1. Shackles of the Brave
Thirteen-year-old Aspen walked at her father's side holding a torch and her little Monster Pistol, while her father led their carriage horse and hoisted the heavier-duty Large Bore Blunderbuss rifle. They were part of the rear unit as their Havenshire mare pulled the prisoner wagon.
It was her father's day off from patrol, but the Wrens had a second purpose to culling threats. They regularly captured Nightbane worgen for rehabilitation. It was a cause dear to their hearts as Gilnean and as a family affected by the Curse.
So far no feral worgen caught in these woods had surfaced from their savagery. Yet they kept trying in honor of her brother Cameron who campaigned at Raven Hill, and their extended family nearby in Darkshire and far off in Teldrassil.
In the permanent dimness the party found themselves confronted by several members of the Nightbane pack. The soldiers instantly reacted, flexing outward to engage the savages. All citizens of former Gilneas Royal were experts against worgen, and most were Tainted Ones themselves. "We've come to the right spot, we have!" the guttural voice of a Night Watch worgen shouted.
"Oi! You don't leave my side!" Graham told Aspen as she kept a watchful eye through the muzzle flashes. Hunting alongside her father was her favorite thing, she grinned as she fired one round after another.
Their mare's sudden head thrashing against the reins alerted the girl to a feral coming up the side of the carriage. She swirled around just in time to shoot her gun but heard the terrifying empty click of the trigger.
Her torch lit the brandished maw descending right for her face. "Light!" she yelped, instinctively jabbing the flaming pitch into the jaws. The burning column of fire suddenly sprouted, searing the feral to the ground. The torch stayed flared like a fire lance, the brilliance flushed the entire area in light, throwing the overhanging branches in stark relief.
"Aspen!" her father's deep voice growled in her ear as she was suddenly grasped by burly arms and crushed to a soaked chest. Graham's heavy breathing was all she heard as he worked the extramundane torch from her stiff fingers. Once the handle lost contact with her it shrank to a regular length of fire. "Are you hurt?" He panted with adrenaline.
She shook her head mutely, eyes wide with shock. The scrimmage was coming to an end but someone called for a light and their torch suddenly disappeared from view. Graham used both hands to spin her around for a full examination by the carriage light. They both stared at his singed knuckles, where the hair had burned on his wrist and turned to ash on his lower arm.
Aspen's delicate little hand was unmarked. "Love..." he trailed off, voice hoarse from shock. He turned her hands over at the wrists and revealed her palms and finger pads aglow like heated iron. His blue eyes bore into her face as he evaluated her porcelain skin and overbright eyes for signs of pain.
"I think I'm alright Da, but I can't say what happened," she admitted breathlessly.
"It's alright, it's alright. Chin up, eh?" He snuggled her to his sweaty tunic as tears started to spill.
"Da, is it magic?" Aspen whispered stunned, staring at her smoldering hands. They were speckled white and red now, resembling the embers in a fire pit.
"Nothing less. We'll talk when it's calmer, love."
"Long live Greymane!" came the familiar battle cry, signalling the end of the fight.
"For Gilneas!" the calls echoed.
"All right?" a grizzled worgen asked in a deep, rumbling voice. His large fangs gleamed in the darkness as he sloshed water into his maw.
"Bit of fright but quite alright - was magic!" Graham explained, accepting the waterskin the worgan passed down to him.
"Cheers, mate."
The party captured several Nightbane and brought them to the pillory stand to be shackled at the stocks. Aspen walked down the cobblestone streets tucked under her father's arm, while he led the chestnut mare and their hounds trotted around them.
Her father fenced off questions from group members walking toward the tavern to wind down with refreshments. "No time for dallying!" he told them. They would be discussing the amazing incident with the matron of the household first, Audrey.
The mare was walked to the barn-side of the house to a roomy stall for her bran-mash supper. The mastiffs sank to the dirt floor to lick their legs and paws of blood stains. Audrey opened the window on the shared wall and poked her head into the sweet smell of hay. "Good hunting, darling?"
Aspen stopped rubbing down the horse and sidled behind her great hindquarters to the window. She looked up at her mother, haloed in the warm light of the house, and burst into tears. "Alright then, what's this? Graham, what's happened?" Audrey cried, reaching awkwardly across the wooden sill to reach her daughter.
"Cabbage?" The man turned from the horse, concerned, but he understood his daughter's emotional outburst and simply grinned at his wife. "Nothing short of a miracle, love."
"I'll be sent away!" Aspen's voice hitched with a hiccup. She was confused by her own crying, not understanding it was shock. She pressed the heel of her hands to her eyes, trying to stop the overwhelming aftershocks.
"What's this? Come 'round, darling, come inside!" The lovely raven-haired woman ushered with her hands, distraught.
"I'll be a spell, just let me settle the beasts." Graham stroked a hand down Aspen's back as she rounded the stall's gate. "It's alright, Cabbage," he told her. Audrey set a deep pail of mixed table scraps and meat on the window frame for the dogs and one of warm water for the horse's meal, then disappeared.
They were soon seated at the table near the stone hearth with Audrey filled in on both accounts. The woman's green eyes mirrored in her daughter's paler shade as the words finally started making sense. She motioned for her husband's hand again. She'd already smeared bacon fat on the burns, but wanted to see the evidence again.
Graham lowered the arm elbowed on the table until it rested in her hands. "And this isn't some rubbish you've both concocted out of the circumstance?" she asked again. Aspen shook her head slowly, and Graham grunted mid-chew. "...I do see why you think we'll send you away, but darling," she said slowly, peering at her daughter's face, "don't you want powers? It's a tool few Gilnean claim and a testament to our Old Ways."
"That's right Cabbage, take pride. Witchcrafting is your heritage," Graham chortled. He put his fork down to pat Aspen's back soothingly, softening the joke.
"So...I'm a druid?" Aspen asked quietly, staring at the dwindling food on her plate.
"Likely not, but who's to know in this day and age?" Audrey said, getting up to dredge the last tasty bits of stew out of the pot. "You must to be evaluated...that seems scary..." she allowed, reading her daughter's face as she ladled broth and vegetables into bowls.
"We must face our fears," Aspen's voice warbled on the infamous Greymane quote. "But aren't I needed here?"
"Of course!" Graham said lightly, "but there's only so much you can do, now as a spellcaster..." He watched his daughter absorb the words, watched color fill her pastel face.
"What would I be?" the girl asked again, livelier now.
"Well," Audrey started, taking up the figurative banner, "you learned how to manage the cooking fire quickly, took you less than a fortnight." She'd been flipping through possibilities, looking through memories for evidence of magical powers and had confirmed the fire inclination. "You were only seven then.
Lanterns always seem to burn brighter after you repitched them - we thought it natural, fresh fuel and all, but it doesn't happen with us - we assumed you wiped the glass but later noticed you hadn't...and I can't say you've ever had trouble lighting candles, wouldn't you say, Graham?"
Graham stared at his wife in wonder as the words clicked certain unnoticed observations in place.
"Never found you in the dark when you called from a nightmare." He switched his bright gaze to his daughter. "Even when there was only a nub left of a candle, it'd be lit. You've always rekindled the embers too fast, I've noticed - when the chill has taken over at night I've heard you rush downstairs and rush back up, and thought I'll have to get up and stir the hearth properly but I've never had to...torches too, you've never lost a light even with the wind blowing. Cabbage, you may be a mage..."
The girl looked equal parts thrilled and terrified, causing her father to resume the comforting pats as he stacked dishes one-handed.
"Am I good at other things?" Aspen asked seriously, thinking of the possibilities.
"Of course dear, I've never seen anyone wash up as well as you," Audrey said cheerfully, encouraging a sly smile from her daughter.
"I believe Cameron can." It was said easily, but her mother seemed to remember something and grew sad.
"Cameron won't be coming home 'til winter, not enough relief came," she answered the question on their faces.
The burly man shook his dark head. "Och! That won't do, he's been in the thick of it too long. I'll round up reinforcement - can't let the boy work himself to death!"
"And you, darling? Patrolling on your days off instead of relaxing in your hard-earned home?"
"Bah!" Graham dismissed it, "have to imprint a work ethic on this girl, Pickle."
Father and daughter took turns bathing in the single wooden tub, then relaxed into after-supper chores. They sipped tea by the hearth, and read, and polished their many guns until it was time for bed. Aspen expertly banked the fire and shrugged self-consciously at their scrutiny.
She freshened the water pitchers in both rooms upstairs and checked the candles, matches, and chamber pots while her parents checked on the animals for the night. They also locked windows and doors and set dough to rise and beans to soak.
Finally they all snuggled into their soft beds and thick quilts, and all thought of Cameron who was likely stalking through Dawning Woods or Forlorn Rowe as they slept comfortably in their beds.
It was early when Aspen and Graham faced the sticky morning gloom to survey the livery. They made a quick scan on their way to Town Hall but were stopped by neighbors for news of the magical incident. Aspen walked through the barn, taking a closer inspection as the chats grew lengthy. There were plenty of rouncy-type horses and some tall and fast coursers like their mare.
Several hulking beasts caught her eye, they stood out from the sumpters by their elegant bone structure and fiery eyes. These were no Elywnn Evendale steeds, they were knight mounts, only wealthy Scarlet Crusader's could afford destriers. The heavy logging and plow horses out competed the Chargers in might, but not in beauty and agility. Horses of this caliber were almost unobtainable and were trained to fight which of course costed more.
And just like their Havenshire mare, the breed was going extinct. The breeds were heavily influenced by Gilneas' wild horse, and it would be nice to continue the line, however morphed, and keep a piece of her homeland alive.
All-in-all there were plenty of suitable horses for a decent sized group to ride for Raven Hill. Hopefully the commander granted enough members of the Night Watch. She could afford it, in a town of almost four thousand people; most were enlisted in her militia and any that weren't would defend their homes regardless.
The commander permitted less than half of what they'd hoped, only six soldiers could take leave for the abandoned settlement and only under conditions: refilling the lanterns, putting down any visible threat from the road, and scouting the road to the Vale for Horde. They were only given a month, which meant they'd have two weeks at best to support the operations before heading back.
Graham decided to go with them, it wasn't something the commander thought she could stop him from and didn't forbid it. Aspen shadowed him around the house as he packed, while her mom scrambled to pack canned meals and lock up the hounds before he headed off.
A flurry of new thoughts had been running through her mind since waking. If she were a mage, she could teleport him there and back, could teleport Cameron every night so he could be home for supper. She would be powerful enough to help in the fighting as well and conjure food and drink so they wouldn't have to eat squash or broccoli stew every day.
She might even bring in money by transporting people and who knew what else? "Da," she said breathless with trepidation.
"Yes, darling?" He was busy stuffing folded clothing into saddlebags for him and Cameron.
"I need to get trained immediately." He paused at the tone, glanced over. "The earliest the better - I could teleport you as a mage," she explained. "I could teleport the whole company leaving today."
"Maybe you could, but we'll have to wait - your brother needs help."
"I know but Da, I don't have to wait," she simplified, "I just need to be evaluated first, then-"
"Yes, Cabbage," Graham said, out of patience due to the stinginess from the commander and Aspen's lack of concern for her brother. "We'll find you a trainer as soon as we can, for now be careful-"
"But Da-"
"You're not starting anything until I get back, alright? Your mother will ask around in the meantime, once we know where to take you, we'll see."
"Couldn't you just send me to Stormwind?" She hated to ask, knowing they couldn't afford it, but the words were out before she could stop them.
"I'm sorry," he said after a second. "I can't afford to take us on gryphons all the way to Stormwind."
"What about just me?" she asked, hearing a loophole in 'us.' She ignored the cold sweat starting at the thought of flying and being without her family.
Graham stared in bewildered irritation. "Not ever. You know that!" he insisted. "You're a young lady, never forget dangers for you are heightened. One careless mistake and people will take advantage of you."
"How will you take me to be trained?"
He was binding the saddlebags shut with cord, they bulged but were fairly balanced for the horse's comfort. "Horse and cart, darling," he said, exasperated. "We'll just have to find where to take you. Trainers require payment just like anyone else. You'll have to be patient."
Knowing her parents would have to sacrifice their savings or go in debt for her training didn't sit well.
She stood wrapped in her mother's arms as her father rode out for a week-long journey through danger-choked forest that human eyes couldn't penetrate to an active battleground haunted with wraiths and undead-!
She had to get trained, the need to help ached like a bruised muscle. This new path destiny had provided was the answer to her family's problems. She couldn't wait for her father to return, and she couldn't put them through weeks of traveling as they searched for a suitable mage trainer.
Aspen waited while they visited with family, patiently retelling the magical event until they finally went home for lunch. She opened the doors to the half-barn for the dogs to run loose since her father was miles away by now and went inside to clean up.
They ate in silence until Aspen couldn't take the suspense anymore. Oh Light, help me! she thought, and her palms tingled to life, glowing dimly. "Mum, I need to get trained, every day I'm not learning how to do magic is crippling. Something is going to happen -because it always does- and I won't be ready!"
Audrey paused, taking in the tone and adamancy. "We can't help that, dear. Your father and I have to find where to take you, it'll take some time...you're being unreasonable," she said as her daughter grimaced. "Training takes years, you couldn't rush these things even if you had a trainer."
"That's all the more reason to start immediately-"
"Yes, darling!" Audrey cried, pleading for her daughter to understand this time, "but we can't just head off to somewhere unknown indefinitely until we find someone. Your father and I will ask around and, in the spring we'll be able to go, Cameron as well, I imagine."
"I can't wait that long!" the girl shouted, frustrated. The need to go overwhelming, as if someone was calling for help mere feet away.
"Manners, Aspen Wrens." Audrey sat back in her chair, placing her fork down to stare undividedly at her daughter.
"Something's different, Mum. I can't explain it but I can't wait," Aspen whispered past her mother's stern gaze, quaking at disappointing her and adding stress to the family. The woman was quiet for a time, studying her daughter's face. The girl glanced up from the table several times, furtively reading her mother's expression.
"Something is different," Audrey agreed, feeling her blood quicken at the realization that her daughter's relentless nature would find a way, even if it meant somehow sneaking off. "Your father just left. How could I face him after sending you away behind his back? Honestly, Aspen!" She was met with silence. "This isn't like you at all."
"I've always known my own mind," Aspen argued quietly.
"I speak of the disrespect you've shown me and the disregard for your father's feeling, and your brother for that matter. Honestly!"
Aspen raised emotion-drench eyes to meet her mothers. "I'm sorry."
They ended the discussion shortly after so Audrey could get ready for patrol with the Night Watch. Aspen kept herself in sight and busy by clearing the table and cleaning the dishes, feeding the dogs, and mucking the empty stall. It was only once her mother left that she thought of visiting the inn. She wasn't allowed far from the house alone, but decided if she really was leaving, she might as well practice.
It was evening by the time the girl finished chores and cajoled the wary mastiff back into the half-barn. Her mother had taken the younger dog on patrol, leaving Gorelett to guard the house. Deep canine-grumbling sounded on the other side of the wooden doors as Aspen slid the wedge home, effectively locking the giant dog in.
Snorting as indecision crept up for the millionth time, she turned for the wrought-iron gate of her tiny yard and walked as casually as she could manage with blood pounding in her ears and adrenaline lightening her limbs. At this hour streetlights were already being lit by the Night's Watch, one by one.
Snippets of dinner conversation along with light from hearths and candles spilled out of opened doors and windows. Townsfolk mingled over fences and walked the cobbled streets, children played their last games for the night in their small yards, and livestock stirred for their last feeding.
Standing at the gate allowed for view of the entire street, both downhill to the Square on the left and uphill to the gryphon post on the right. The girl spied a lone man walking downhill. He looked dirty even with the distance and held a sack to his back with one arm. Dogs barked and charged at fences as he reached the first houses lining the street.
Aspen decided to wait for him to pass before leaving the sanctity of her home, and -by now- the watchfulness of her neighbors. She tried for nonchalance by leaning against the gate post, seemingly waiting for someone. Gorelett started up aggressive barking from inside, and indecision gripped the girl's heart. Am I really doing this? The man was closer now and Aspen could see he carried only a mace at the hip and a buckler on the forearm.
A champion then, she guessed but there was something terribly familiar about him. First his size, he was definitely a worgen; men rarely reached that height naturally. Secondly his coloring, from what she could see, was also classic Gilnean; dark hair, pale complexion. Thirdly his bearing, he seemed confident yet watchful, and kept walking even as townsfolk stood in their doorframes, armed, and tracking his every step.
He waved halfheartedly at Aspen's right-hand neighbors and finally stopped outside her gate. "Anything wrong with the hounds?"
"Beg your pardon?" the girl managed before her lips popped open and she scrambled to open the gate. "Cameron!"
"Och! 'Tis only the Wrens' boy -Cameron!" the next door neighbor shouted across the street. The people stood down and some called out welcome. Cameron lifted an arm from around his sister to wave.
"Spread the good word, eh?" he called mockingly, peeling his sister off. "Who are you waiting for?"
She laughed, wiping tears from her eyes and rubbing her nose from the stench saturating him. "No one! I was waiting for you to pass."
"Seemed ready to bark and bite, thought we'd gotten a new dog. Where are you going?" he asked, noting her good coat and hat.
"...Erm, it's a long story-" Aspen broke off, hand flying to cover her mouth in alarm. She took several steps back so she wouldn't break her neck to see his face. "Da just left for you! He's gone to Ravenhill!"
Cameron stiffened at news. "When?"
"Just this morning with a party of Watchmen. Mum said there wasn't enough help for you to leave 'til winter! What are you doing here?"
Her brother's misty eyes had gone flinty in annoyance. "Och! Take this!" He shoved the sack he'd been carrying into her belly not waiting for her to grab hold before he strode away. It was heavy! She could barely keep hold and had to set the bag on her hip and wrap both arms around it.
"Where are you going?!"
"After him. I can catch him, if not by morning, then by afternoon. Go inside-" He was loosening the leather fasting of the buckler and belt as he lengthened his stride. Aspen ran to keep up. "Mum's on patrol?"
-"I'm going too!" she said but was ignored. "Yes, she'll be back tonight. You're taking me with you!"
He stopped at the hard clang of Aspen accidentally dropping the bag. Cameron already looked furious and exhausted, the dark bags at his eyes had blended with the dirt, stains, and bruises visible through the oversized shirt, but after the initial shock she noticed them and the weight he'd lost. He seemed only muscle and bone. She couldn't let him leave in that state, he'd need her help.
"There's no time for this. The faster I stop him, the less distance on the way back. Go home!" he growled, stiffly bending for the sack.
"Wait Cameron, I'm a mage now! I am!" she insisted when he ignored her and quickened his pace further. She had to stop talking to run, but when they passed the livery, she piped up again. "Where are you going? We need horses!"
"No. Go home and wait for mum," he swirled in front of her, "now."
They'd reached the more leveled area of the hill, where the tailor had set up shop and the stable's furthest corrals were. The giant east gate of Darkshire loomed down the long street on their right. They were drawing attention with their haste and quarreling, Aspen flushed red and adjusted the town-hat she'd fought to keep in their race downhill. "I'm going. We can double up -I won't weigh the horse down. Can we just go?"
Cameron's eyes raked down her short stature, sizing her up and weighing their options. "I'll be running wild."
The girl's eyes widen briefly before she could school her expression. That meant Cameron would be running as a monstrous wolf, but she'd consider it practice for all the other daunting things she'd be facing when she left for training. "What of it? Stop gabbing and get going!" The words came out sharp due to her rattled nerves.
Knowing she'd follow on horseback decided for him, taking her along would be the only real way to keep her safe. The neighbors would tell their mother what they'd seen, and she'd guess what they were doing. And she'd be wise enough to stay put, unlike Aspen.
"Right then," he said, storming off with a hand clutching his pants to keep them from sliding off. In proper human settlements nothing untamed was allowed, and usually nothing more exotic than cats and dogs were received well. Not even hunter companions, which meant worgens didn't walk around in pack form. It was one more reason they fought for Ravenhill, the lost city could be a worgen haven if recovered from undead.
The west gate was just closing for the night as they reached it.
"Hey, get back!" a man commanded as he struggled with the massive wrought iron.
"Whatever could you be up to sneaking off." The other man smirked; it wasn't a question. "Plenty of alleys for a tryst, no need to endanger yourselves," he warned, his accent placing him from Elwynn Forest. Aspen looked shocked at being stopped, but Cameron's expression prompted both men to stop handling the gate and face him.
"What's your business then? You're not Watchers."
"Move." The word was a menacing growl, coming from deep in Cameron's chest. His aggression and height declared him a Tainted One, and his coloring as Gilnean.
"Harrumph," one man snorted.
"Worgen business," the other sneered, both native men were of the type that didn't appreciate the former refugees. "But what of the girl? Hey! I'll have you reported!" one of the men shouted as Cameron stalked through them and the gates, pulling a stunned Aspen along.
"Did you have to be so rude?" she wondered out loud. Her brother glanced down at her, fuming as his baggy pants slipped and caught on the tops of his thighs. "We could have left a message with them for mum."
"Are you daft?" He shook his head violently, immediately trying to tamp out the rage. He let go of her hand and snatched his pants back up. "Och, don't scold me -you could have spoken up yourself!" Cameron said, more in control. He dragged her off the road into a tall field of sorghum, his breaths coming in forceful huffs to vent the building energy.
Aspen was completely submerged in the grain; she couldn't make out the wrought iron of the town's fence even if she stood on tiptoe and craned her neck. In all honesty she was nervous, she'd only been around wolf-men on hunts, and only with her father and other humans around to buffer any direct interaction. Now this was family, but even if Cameron was never far from their thoughts, he was very much a stranger to her.
She'd seen Cameron in monster form years ago in Duskhaven but barely remembered - the undead had held her attention. She'd been so much younger then, barely out of tottering age when Gilneas was overrun with worgen. She hadn't really understood what her brother had become then. He'd gone away when they'd landed in Elwynn Forest and after to Ravenhill, seldomly coming home.
Not knowing what to expect, she wrung her hands. She'd never been outside of town without her father either, but remembering her lessons, she dug out the pistol from her coat. And remembering her other lessons she hummed "Um..."
"What?" Cameron was arranging the mace and buckler, threading the bulbous weapon in the buckler's straps for when it would ride on his back. The heavy pack leaned on grain stalks next to him.
"We didn't bring any food," Aspen said, wishing also that she'd tied back her hair. At a yard in length, the black satin tresses would foul and tangle instantly.
Without warning Cameron hunched over with a strangled groan as muscles clenched and spasmed. He gasped sharply and threw his head back, arching his lengthening spine. His whole frame shook with the torture. Black hair sprouted in tufts everywhere, claws grew from his hardening fingers as tendons bulged and strengthened. He stifled the moans when he could, and as his neck and jaw transformed the pitch of his voice strangled and harshened.
After a minute of agony his large body reached full transformation, a furious snarl sealed the process. With ragged breaths he bent over to retrieve a breastplate, greaves, bracers, and a leather gorget from the sack. He avoided his sister's gaze, unwilling to bare her reaction. It allowed her the chance to adapt to the change, to soften the sympathetic blench on her face.
As he fit the light armor over his once-overgrown garments, Aspen correlated the stains on his shirt.
On his wolven frame the disgusting clothes were snug and matched up to large stains at armpits and the deep 'v' of his neck, but a darker, fresher stain dominated everything below the chest and the top of his pants. "You're hurt," she guessed aloud as the realization dawned. Her pale green eyes already looked huge in her amazed, pointy face, now they grew soggy.
"A scratch. Quit your pratting," he said, bristling in ready anger. He crouched onto all fours and waited a few seconds but she didn't move. "All right?" he shifted his four feet effortlessly, turning to face her. His snout was still a hair taller than her head.
"You were going without me, hurt like this. Da will have a strop, at me too for letting-"
"Spare me yours then. No time," he growled, wrinkling his muzzle slightly with speech.
Noticing the gathering darkness prompted her as much as the words, she carefully put the gun back in her coat and walked around to his side. The straps holding his breastplate made for a seat of sorts and she aimed for that as she hopped and tossed a leg over.
The mace didn't seem so large across his expansive back. He'd tied the belt from shoulder to waist, it held the mace and attached buckler securely between his shoulder blades. Once mounted she shoved her hands under the first strap all the way to her forearms, hoping she could stay on without squeezing her legs around his abdomen - the wound was more than a scratch if it'd bled that much!
"Right then-mmmm!" He sped forward and her words died into a nervous hum.
Aspen lost her hat immediately, and caught the indignant shout just in time. She knew better than to make noise in these haunted woods. Sitting on a hunched worgen should have felt similar to riding a horse -they were close to the same size- but horses had straight toplines and ran evenly in a gait one could anticipate.
Cameron ran like a wolf, springing from powerful haunches and catching his fall on clawed hands. The muscles on his back were wrong for riding also, they weren't great slabs like on a horse, they were bunched ridges along his spine, rippling and flexing in a way that promised to unseat her.
I'll learn teleportation first, it didn't take her long to decide.
Aspen's senses also dropped off, one by one. The gloaming took her sight, the stench her scent. Cameron's harsh panting her hearing. The jarring gait turned her numb, and the wind blew her mouth dry as a haystack.
His direction was unprecedented; sometimes he'd throw them off the road into a steep ravine, or leap onto outcrops to avoid whatever threat he'd sensed ahead. His ragged breathing became exponentially louder, until she was sure the whole forest could hear them.
She was terrified, but there was nothing she could do but hang on and keep quiet - both things she was struggling with.
Cameron suddenly slowed, "What is it?" His tone made the question a rebuke. But Aspen wasn't sure what he was upset about, having to carry her, having her with him at all, the talking, or that he had stopped running to ask. She wasn't entirely sure they'd stopped, wrapped around him as she was. The heaving of his sides as he sucked in and expelled great breaths hadn't lessened.
"What?" she managed to rasp out her parched throat.
"Are you hurt?" he growled.
"No?" Confusion turned the answer to a question.
"Stop crying then."
She sat up carefully, so numb she wasn't confident she would notice if she tipped over. "What?" she hissed, and coughed as the action scratched her throat.
"I can hear you, so can any Nightbane, ravager, bear, and boar. The undead too, I can't outrun them forever. If you quiet down I might be able to lose them."
"What do you mean? I'm not crying."
"Whimpering than, whatever," he rumbled between heavy gasps. She unhooked her ankles and felt her feet tingle as feeling flowed into them again and felt the wetness she knew was his blood. She let herself slip off his back and protested as stiff joints and sore muscles screamed and would have crashed to the dirt if her brother hadn't swirled to catch her. "Steady."
The whine had sounded familiar, maybe she had been whimpering without knowing it. Well. "How would anything hear me over your breathing? And anything could track us with you bleeding." And you reek, she almost added, but didn't want to hurt his feelings. If it was strong to her nose, his wolven one was suffering worse.
"Stop grinding your heels into it then."
Aspen winced. She couldn't help it, she'd fall otherwise. "Let's have a look."
"If I told you we didn't have time much time, would it mean something to you?" The regular sarcasm didn't ring true through his exertion. "We don't have a light," he said more seriously, watching her clearly in the darkness as she stared around blindly, wide-eyed, fearful, and lost.
She gulped. "I told you -I'm a mage now."
"No." He snatched the tiny hand she'd raised in case she could suddenly conjure a flame. "We can't afford one. We need to move. Can you ride, or do I have to carry you?"
"I'm fine Cameron, it's you I'm worried about." She stared up where his voice was coming from, but couldn't see a thing in the inky night, and the all-encompassing canopy of grand oaks.
He grabbed her other hand and swung her onto his back. Aspen tried locking her feet around his waist instead but as he crouched back onto all fours she slid forward and knew her feet rubbed the wound. She shouldn't have come, she knew it. Had known it, but he did need her help, or he would. She had a bad feeling.
A/N New inspiration for this stalling two-shot, so changed some things. I'll also be tweaking a few small canon-things for desired effects. Nothing crazy.
9/26/23 I have plans for this fic but don't have the skill to write it the way I see it in my head. Make any sense?