TIWAZ AWOKE WITH a start, sitting upright between Doom and Tracker. Her sudden movement startled the males awake, both grabbing weapons. Seeing nothing untoward, they looked at their pack-mate. Despite repeatedly asking what was wrong, she ignored them, heading to the pile of bones and beginning to dig through them.

“Tiwaz!” Doom shouted loud enough to make small clods of dirt fall out of the ceiling. “What are you doing?”

“Magic,” she stated distractedly. “I smell magic. Like your new staff. Nothing like what Alimar ever had. I did not before. It is like it just awoke from a long sleep.” She stopped to stare for a heartbeat, then began clearing bones from the top of the pile while Doom examined the humorously-named Boomstick. The males stared when her efforts revealed a very large skull buried beneath the other bones.

“Dragon?” Tracker asked in disbelief. “Man-bear killed dragon?”

She ran her hands over the surface, then shook her head. “No. The other bones have its claw and teeth marks. This is very old. But I can still sense the magic it once had.” She looked back at the others. “Help me move it. There’s still something else under here. It will drive me to distraction until I find it.” Excavation complete, she pulled out a heavy two-handed sword. She held it possessively as she examined it. “It is still sharp after so long neglected.”

Tracker considered the weapon, then looked at the pile of bones. “Many lost hunters’ weapons.” He began to gather the various items. “Cat-Sister keep sword. Deserve more, but sword good.” He crouched by the pile of bones. “Sad knowing hunters dead, but glad knowing what happened. Now mourning howls can be sung. Must take man-bear to shaman to free souls of dead.”

“We still need to figure out how to get that stag back,” Doom stated. “The winter has been too lean to leave anything behind, but I can’t haul either of those things far.”

Tiwaz looked outside and sighed. “Travel will be even harder, too. It snowed while we were sleeping.” She looked back to her companions. “It comes up to my knees now.”

Doom stared at the dragon skull in thought and snapped his fingers. “I have an idea.” The other two looked at him with quizzical curiosity.

THE EXCITED BLARE of a horn drew wolflen and humans both outside to the main road. Everyone started talking in shock, amusement, and awe at the sight that greeted them. Hitched like a horse, Doom pulled the upside-down dragon skull, his cloak’s hood fallen and head fully exposed. Inside were the corpses of the man-bear and the stag.

Between his greater body heat and the cold weather, it appeared as though smoke rose from the gromek’s head, adding to his unearthly appearance. At the other end of the skull, side by side, Tiwaz and Tracker pushed to ease Doom’s burden. If that were not enough to set tongues to wagging, the sight of the stag’s magnificent antlers caused a considerable stir.

The trio stopped in the town center, followed by most of Bralden’s population. Kerk approached, his expression a mixture of relief to see them and bewilderment. “We were beginning to think we should send hunters out to find you three. What in the hells happened out there?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as Pack Leader and Shaman joined him.

Doom and Tiwaz traded uncertain looks, neither wanting to publicly reveal her personal troubles to the town. Tracker stepped forward, offering a gesture of respect to his chieftain and sire as well as the shaman. “Cat-Sister hunted stag by self. Man-bear tried taking stag, nearly killed Cat-Sister. Doom-Not-Demon and Tracker kill thief.” He crouched, upending the backpack filled with the personal items he had gathered. Family members of the lost cried out in dismay as they recognized items, realizing what had happened to the missing wolflen and human hunters. “Blight on Bralden gone now.”

Shaman squinted, approaching the stag to inspect it. He touched the antlers with deep reverence. “First hunt alone earns adult rights in tribe,” he stated. He looked at the woman, troubled. “Still much needing learn.”

Tiwaz lowered her eyes in respect. “I know, Shaman.”

He grunted. “First kill as adult usually goes to tribe. Cat-Sister,” he stated slowly, “not wolflen.”

She took a deep breath, avoiding looking at Kerk, Doom, or anyone else. Her gaze drifted towards a mixed group of young humans and wolflen standing together, all with wide, awe-filled, eyes. “Bralden is my tribe, Shaman. All of it. I give my kill to my tribe to feed all of the children of Bralden, and those who protect them.” She met his eyes. “My pack killed the scourge that bled the life from town and land. We protect our home.”

Shaman grunted in acceptance, then looked to Kerk, Bralden’s de facto human leader. The blacksmith chuckled and held up his hands defensively. “Far be it from me to argue with such a gift.” He looked over to the town butcher. “You need a hand with butchering this beast to divvy up between everyone?”

The man looked at the stag, scratching his head. “Don’t think my shop be tall enough to hang it,” he said ruefully. “Lucky if a five point comes in here.”

Pack Leader’s barking laughter drew all eyes to him. “We have a place in our camp that should suit. My mate’s pack will help you.” Three wolflen approached, heaving the stag out of the dragon skull, waiting for the butcher and his apprentice to get their tools to follow.

The grim shaman stated as he looked to the beast that had taken so many lives. “Souls of dead must be freed.” He waved to the junior shaman. “Must prepare.” Two took the man-bear. The third reverently took the items Tracker had retrieved, placing them on a large piece of suede. She moved among the gathered so they could claim the tokens of their lost ones.

Despite the shadow of grief for those lost, the relief of Bralden’s inhabitants overwhelmed that. Cheers filled the air, sparking an impromptu celebration by both humans and wolflen. Doom startled when a young woman jumped in his arms and kissed the corner of his jaw. “Thank you for saving us!” she told him brightly, looking at him with absolutely no trepidation in her demeanor.

“You’re, uh, welcome,” he replied, putting her back on her feet with care. Several other young women did the same, and some younger men grabbed his hand in gratitude. He finally managed to back out of the thickest part of the crowd, bumping into the wolflen chieftain.

Pack Leader looked amused. “It seems you are now fully accepted as one of Bralden’s people by everyone, not just us wolflen.”

Doom managed a weak smile. “I have never had anyone but Ti look at me with no fear in their eyes. I like it! But it feels…strange, too.” He looked at the revelers in bemusement. “Now I know how overwhelmed Ti feels in crowds.”

“You should go enjoy it! Sounds like well-deserved adoration,” a familiar voice said on Doom’s other side.

He turned in happy surprise. “Gareth Tavarius?” He clasped forearms with the bard. “What are you doing here?”

The bard grinned broadly. “I told you I’d come looking for you and Tiwaz when I could assure you both that bastard was going back under his rock.” He glanced at the humans and wolflen dancing together as those who could play instruments came out. “Causing a ruckus, I see. Where’s Tiwaz?”

Doom looked around and saw the reclusive woman had slipped away without anyone’s notice. Kerk waved him down, whispering in his ear. He sighed with a rueful smile. “She’s in the forge. Not much for close crowds like this.” He began to turn to leave. “I should go check on her.”

“Nonsense!” Gareth smiled, making a shooing gesture. “Go on! Enjoy your newfound acceptance and get to know your neighbors. You deserve it. I’ll go tell Tiwaz I’m in town.” He turned and nearly walked into Tracker.

The wolflen crossed his arms, blocking Gareth’s path. Tracker looked the man up and down, sniffing the air to judge the bard’s scent. He frowned in suspicion. “Doom-Not-Demon trust outsider?”

Gareth looked from Tracker to the gromek, his arched eyebrow a silent question to the moniker. Doom nodded. “Yes, I trust him. He helped keep me and Ti safe.” Accepting Doom’s word, the young wolflen nodded and moved out of the way, returning to the conversation he was having with his family who had gathered around him. Their distrustful gazes on the human changed at a few words from him and they proceeded to ignore the bard in favor of Tracker.

Doom caught Gareth’s arm, leaning down to speak in his ear. “Tiwaz’s temper is not good. Be careful. I don’t want to lose her again.” The human looked up at Doom with a faint frown, but did not ask for details in the public place. He simply nodded and headed to the forge.