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You know what? Kid brains were amazing. They rolled with new information better than any adult, meaning once Kyle rejoined Aiden in the barn's attic, he found the little dude curious and excited, rather than stressed or freaked.
"So you are both werewolves?" was the first question Aiden tossed at him. Hey, at least he'd waited until Kyle had sat his weary bones down.
"Mhm."
"Then why was he bigger?"
Excuse me. "Why're you a shrimp?"
"What's a shrimp?"
Kyle's mouth half-way opened, ready to explain crustaceans in painful detail, but had himself immediately interrupted by Aiden scooting through the hay and planting himself right in front of Kyle.
"Does it hurt?"
"Does what hurt? Turning into a wolf?"
"That, too. But I mean the scratches. You're still bleeding."
Truth. Shifting in and out of his fur typically mended most of his wounds, either by turning a fresh cut into a neat, pink scar or by downright erasing them if he was lucky. Not so much when wolf fought wolf. It was a deterrent, he'd been told, put in place by whatever god or godling had assembled the first pack of werewolves.
Did that mean they all got along? Hell, no. But they'd come to rely on other ways to sort out disagreements that didn't involve stuff like, ya know, biting off ears that wouldn't grow back.
Such as talking about it. Very maturely.
"Yes," Kyle said and cast a glance at his left arm. He'd looped a strip of cloth over the gash there. The cloth had been grey. It was now very red. "Turning into a wolf hurts. But the bleeding? Eh, I'll be fine. I heal quicker than you do."
At that, Kyle regarded Aiden with an arched brow. "Because, child, stomping on a sprained ankle like you did tonight, that's not normal. You always bounce back quick like that?"
"I guess," Aiden admitted, before his eyes went wide and his mouth did another of those OOOO-routines. "Healing quick is a werewolf thing?"
"Totally."
"Am I a werewolf?"
"… no."
Then came the typical quiz of "Are insert critter of choice here real, too?" which Kyle entertained all the way until the night's excitement finally caught up with Aiden. Tuckered out, the kid rolled up on his shoddy bedroll and was out cold a second later.
Kyle? Kyle stayed awake, his back to the wall, his legs stretched out, and his eyes set on the ladder.
Just in case.
The refugees didn't pop out of their shelter until late in the morning, when the sun was well up and able to slide around most corners.
It gave Kyle a chance to mop up a bunch more Biters that'd strolled in late while he'd held vigil over the kid. By the time he was done, the soldiers were left to comb through a secure but otherwise thoroughly ruined campsite.
Kyle winced. He'd parked himself on a turned over bucket, his shoulder resting against the barn's outside wall, and watched glum faces pick through the rubble. Some looked his way. Some did their best not to.
But no one bothered him. Not a one. They must have known he hadn't been down in the bunker with them, and spotting him sitting there, his arms bandaged and still bloody, well, yeah, that must've gotten the imagination running wild.
Okay. Scratch the no one. There was still Aiden, who eventually brought a bucket of his own and sat by his side. Right before he offered Kyle a cracker, which Kyle took with a grateful nod.
"They're going to leave," Aiden observed.
"Mhm."
It hadn't even been ten minutes since the doors had opened, and the first people mover was already cranking its engine. With one caravan down, the group'd probably end up having to squeeze. But squeezing was miles better than suddenly having too many seats, huh?
"Not me, though." Aiden made a quiet, thoughtful noise. "I mean, I'm not going with them."
Kyle rolled his head to the side and looked down. Aiden's legs bounced while he stared at the people milling about their upended lives. He was leaning forward, his elbows propped up on his knees and his hands clasped together. The head of his driftwood bunny stuck out between his fingers.
"Do you want to?" Kyle asked.
Oh, cruel, cruel illusion of choice.
Aiden sucked on his teeth. "I can't remember much from before I joined up with them. They're—they're like the only people I know. So, yes? Kind of? But it wouldn't be safe for them, would it? Not if the douchewolfie comes back."
Unhappy pride chewed on Kyle's heart. "You know, kids your age really shouldn't be having heroic thoughts. That's grown-up stuff."
Aiden sighed, then finally turned his eyes up to him. "Can you help me find Pey-ter before we leave?"
"Huh?" Hello there, comment-out-of-left-field. Kyle's think meat was way too mangled after the last two days to keep up with a kid's attention span.
"Pey—" Aiden made to repeat, which Kyle interrupted by patting him on his spiky-haired head.
"I remember him, sure. Wanna go now?"
Aiden took a moment before he ducked out from under Kyle's hand, a delay Kyle noted with a small grin.
"Yes," said the mock-offended child and got up so quick, his bucket fell over.
Florence found them first. She looked tired enough. Kyle was convinced her glamor had probably failed, leaving her to rely on her sea-given gifts. Which was to say she was still real pretty, but the Instagram filter had finally fucked off.
They thanked each other. Politely. Then they shook hands. Politely.
And then Aiden got a hug. And his hair ruffled. And left to stand there with a big smile on his face (rather than the fake glare he'd given Kyle earlier).
Unfair.
When would Kyle get his hair ruffled and his sore bones hugged?
"Good luck out there," was the last thing Florence said to them before she turned around and got back to looking after her people. Because that was what they were, wasn't it? She'd chosen them when she'd decided to stay, and they'd be better off for it as long as she was with them.
Hey. They might even end up making it. Prove Kyle wrong (it was the kinda wrong he very much enjoyed being). Especially now that the eyes of whatever mysterious antagonist Death had been so cryptic about were no longer going to be on them.
No. Those eyes were going to be on Kyle now.
. . .
No pressure whatsoever.
You probably guessed by now why it'd been important that Aiden would find Peter before they left. Because how else was he going to fumble his way through awkwardly apologising to the old man for everyone being so mean? And offer him a tiny bunny carving as a parting gift at the same time?
The apology Kyle coached Aiden through on the way, word by word. But the bunny? That was all Aiden, and judging by the look on Peter's face when he cupped his old, leathery hands around the tiny thing, he hadn't needed the words. The bunny'd been enough to put tears in the man's eyes.
Once again, Aiden got a hug, while Kyle was awarded a grateful nod.
And that was it.
Aiden's ties with the camp were officially severed. His best friend was gone (dead most likely, Kyle had to admit). His abduction mystery was (kind of) resolved. And amends had been made. There weren't any more goodbyes to be said, either, and soon enough, Kyle left the camp the same way he'd approached it only a few days ago. Except this time he had a kit walking next to him, which was a notable enough adjustment.
A quiet kid. A solemn kid. One who didn't look back even once.
Depressing, huh?
"Hm," that very same kid eventually hummed. They'd popped out of the valley's mouth by now and were walking among wide, overgrown fields of all kinda crops popping up at the same time.
The Hm had been Aiden's first notable noise, and it came at the tail end of him having grown even quieter. Suspiciously so. You know, the type of quiet you'd associate with puppies or toddlers suddenly getting so damn still in the next room you just knew they were up to no good? Yeah. That.
"Hmm?" Kyle hummed back at him.
"We'd probably go a lot faster if you carried me."
AWWW. "Yeah? You really got used to that, huh?"
"Maybe," Aiden replied, every bit as coy about it as he could possibly get. "But I don't mean like—" He gestured at Kyle. "That. It'd go so so much faster if it was the other you."
. . .
Oh my god. The kid wanted to ride a wolf. How cute was that?!
"Uhm," Kyle managed while he struggled with the whiplash of going from being tragically depressed over how he'd just uprooted this unfortunately child who'd managed to get screwed by the narrative, to being glad he didn't have a tail right now since that'd be wagging up a storm.
"That's a yes, right?"
Kyle showed restraint. "If you can get up that tree," he said and pointed at one of the apple trees lining the road they'd been following. It looked tall enough for stashing children for a few minutes. "And if you stay in the tree until I'm back."
"I am very good at climbing."
"But you are not very good at staying."
Aiden pouted. "I'll practice in the tree."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"You really shouldn't leave the child alone," Kyle muttered at himself while he shoved through the underbrush of the nearest crop of trees growing between the fields. They were meant to block wind and help with water retention or some such thing, but today, they'd serve the purpose of giving Kyle a patch of dirt to turn in while shielding Aiden from having to see him twist himself into new shape.
"But, like—" Kyle dropped his pack. Grabbed his shirt. Pulled it up. "—unless Westin found another fancy magic-eating artifact, I'd know he's around. So, I mean—"
"He hasn't. The child is well out of harm's way. For now."
Kyle froze. Awkwardly. With his head still stuck in his shirt. He tucked it down and shoved his head back out.
"Hi," said Death.
"Hi."
They'd wandered onto the same patch of dirt as him. Dirt, which'd grown a thick blanket of flowering moss Kyle swore up and down he had not seen a second ago.
He cleared his throat. "You've gone from ignoring me for years to checking in on me twice in twenty-four hours. Is that a new perk I unlocked for taking your deal? Or you keeping tabs on your newest investment, making sure I play ball?"
They tilted their chin up at him. "It's news I bring, not a performance review."
"… kay." Kyle's fingers—those restless fuckers—began tugging on his shirt and stuffing it into his belt. "Shoot."
"Our adversary is one of Us."
Kyle's fingers stilled. "I bet you don't just mean a supernatural critter. But, like, the royal we kinda us? You? Death?"
Death nodded. A chill squirmed down Kyle's spine.
"Well. Fuck me, right? What's that mean for me? What do I do?"
"You keep doing what you've always done," they said and raised one arm as if to hold a bell over their head. Or, like, really fumble that Cha Cha Cha pose where you stuck your hand in the air. "Protect the child. Save who you can. Meddle."
Kyle offered them a grunt in response. Fair. He could meddle. He was a great meddler. But couldn't they have given him a little more?
"If I had more, you'd know," they said, and then they wagged that hand they'd been holding up high. "Now will you get in here or do I have got to stand here all day?"
. . .
Oh.
Oh.
Coughing up a quiet laugh, Kyle leaned forward, straight into Death's waiting arms. Not in the, ah, final kinda way, but in the hair ruffling and sore bones hugging one.
Their presence rolled over him like a tumble of well-behaved, newborn stars. It leeched every ache from his body, pressed his soul into shape, and almost had him forget he had legs.
But the best part?
The best part was their fingers lightly scratching at his scalp.
That shit felt so good, he might've made an unflattering noise or two. (He absolutely had made an unflattering noise. Or two.)
So fucking enthralled (not in the bad way) he was, that Kyle nearly missed the bit where, all of a sudden, they were gone.
Like. One second he'd begun to malfunction, his knees wanting to give in and his hands wanting nothing more than to grab on to Death as if his life depended on it (ha.-ha), the next their familiar scent and otherworldly warmth vanished, leaving him with his skin prickling and his eyes catching on a small origami bird suspended in the air.
He snatched it up before it could fall.
"One day," Kyle muttered with a smile. "One fucking day." (*)
Aiden had stayed in the tree. Which was great, because it meant Kyle could prance his freshly turned butt over there and stick himself under the lowest branch, his back an open invitation. He'd slung his gear on at a lopsided angle, which'd hopefully give the kid room on his back and give him a strap to hold on to.
(Yeah, he'd thought this through. Very thoroughly.)
"Do you always scream that much when you turn into a wolf?" Aiden asked as he climbed from the branch. His feet slid down Kyle's neck.
Kyle gave an affirmative huff.
"Damn. I'm sorry, I think I totally forgot that it hurts when you do that."
That's fine, Kyle'd have liked to say, but settled for a big old shrug that made Aiden scoot down further on his back. The kid grabbed two fistfuls of fur to steady himself.
"Okay. I think I'm on. Wow, I'm real far up."
He-he. Kyle's tongue lolled out happily, and his tail whipped the air.
"So," the kid—kinda sorta Kyle's kid now, huh?—said. "How fast can you go?"
Well.
Really fricking fast, of course.
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(*) 'But, Kyle, what exactly were you gonna do one day,' you might ask.
Well. Maybe you'll get lucky and find out one day.