BRANCHES BUDDING WITH new leaves created an odd silhouette against the moonless sky above the small camp in the early hours of the sixth day of travel. Doom sat by the campfire while the others slept, keeping watch. He glanced over towards his friend’s back and sighed, keeping his voice low. “You should be sleeping, Ti. You already took your watch tonight.”

“I’m not tired,” she stated in a voice rough with disuse. She rolled over then got up to sit next to him. “I can finish your watch.” He did not say a word to her offer, simply putting his arm around her and pulling her against him. She sighed softly, closing her eyes as she rested her head against his chest.

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” he murmured, tightening his arm around her when he felt her stiffen. “Please.”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” she replied after several minutes of silence.

He frowned and looked down at the top of her head. “Stop it. Trying to protect me from yourself doesn’t do either of us any good. You bottle everything inside until you can’t hold it in anymore then get upset you lose control and I worry myself sick over you the entire time.” She sighed gustily, turning her face into his chest. He stroked her arm. “If you talk to me, maybe we can figure out—”

“There is nothing to figure out. There is no fixing this.” She tried to pull away from him, but he refused to let her go. “Just leave me alone, Doom.”

“Not on your life, Ti. And you don’t know that whatever it is can’t be fixed. You believed the same thing about the glyphs. While you were right about not being able to stay in the Southern Wildlands, we did find a means to get those off of you.”

“This is different, Doom,” she argued with a hint of despairing resignation. “It just feels as though something—” she began when the silence of the night erupted into the sounds of approaching howls and crashing. Mya flew up in alarm, her glow illuminating the area like a small sun. Tiwaz dove towards her gear, rolling to her feet with a long sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

The noise roused the other three. Simpkins and Gareth moved sluggishly, disoriented at the sudden disruption. Tracker jumped to his feet, awake and focused, spear in hand. All but Doom startled, staring as Tiwaz yelled and leapt onto the back of the largest and closest of a group of beasts that appeared to be a violent mutation of an armadillo, a wolf, and a badger the size of a small pony. Doom fired his massive bow, the long shaft sprouting from the heart of the next closest beast. Tracker howled, diverting the attention of the rest of the pack away from the camp.

In the same fluid motion that brought her astride the monstrosity, Tiwaz drove the dagger into its neck where the armor plating separated. As it collapsed, she rolled off it and onto her back. She drove her long sword into the soft underside of another of the creatures. Two more sprouted over-sized arrows and collapsed. The smaller versions of the first four animals suddenly stopped, looking uncertain. They fled when Simpkins threw a pouch that exploded in a flash of noise and smoke.

“What the hell were those things?” the ogre asked, holding his hands up to Mya, drawing the tiny sprite close to calm her.

“Armor wolves,” Tracker stated. “Very territorial.” He grabbed one by the legs to drag it away from the campsite. “Bodies will draw scavengers.”

Simpkins grinned roguishly at Tiwaz and Doom. “And this is why I wanted to hire you.” He almost fell on his backside when the woman jerked her bloody sword out and pointed it at him.

“If not for you, we would not be here walking to our deaths!” She turned away from the blank looks given to her, stripped her clothes and shape-shifted into a panther, bounding into the darkness.

“Bard. Help Tracker. Must move bodies far from camp before scavengers come.” The bard hesitated, dearly wanting to go after Tiwaz. But when he saw his own concerned expression mirrored on the wolflen’s face he turned to help him and wait Tiwaz’s temper out.

Simpkins looked at the worried gromek’s profile, contrite. “I didn’t mean to upset her more.” He sighed, following the gromek’s stare into the darkness. “Seems to be the only thing I’ve been able to accomplish successfully of late when it comes to our shape-shifting companion.”

Doom looked sharply at the ogre. “You know what she is? How—?” A scowl twisted his visage. “Gareth told you. Damn it, he promised he would keep her secret.”

“He did not tell me intentionally,” he assured. “But yes, he let it slip when we were talking about her. I’ve been trying to understand what I’m doing wrong. I usually win people over faster than this.” Doom snorted softly. “Honestly, I’m not surprised she is a shape-shifter. If more people understood the nature of the Southern Wildlands’ magic and really think about it, they would realize one thing. Any human that looks normal and is considered a native has something peculiar about them.”

“You have traveled the Southern Wildlands?” Doom asked, his expression reflecting his uncertainty about this revelation of the ogre.

Simpkins shrugged. “It is a rite of passage for journeymen on the cusp of their mastery to travel the lands with the strongest, wildest magic known.” He looked at Doom. “I haven’t seen gromeks for probably twenty years or so. It took me a while to realize that you are missing your horns and wings.” No levity tarnished Simpkins’ voice as he spoke. “I know gromeks are particularly fixated on them.”

“They are, yes,” he stated tonelessly.

“I heard from many about Alimar the Black during that trip. I vowed then I would have nothing to do with him because of what I could hear behind the words.” Doom’s glower lifted in surprise. “She accused me of working for him.” He chuckled ruefully. “Not in words. I could see it in her eyes. I understand her antipathy if he was the most notable experience with a magic user she’s had.” Blue eyes met yellow. “I don’t associate with his sort for many damned good reasons.”

The gromek grunted at that. “Alimar punished me for attacking him by putting my wings and horns on a dog. She tried to protect me.” He clenched his fists. “She never told me about the glyphs. I think…no. I know she never knew what they repressed until they were gone. But she fought them. As hard as she fights with a weapon. Her hands and arms would be covered in blood when she broke through them.” He frowned and looked at the magic user. “Could they still be affecting her even though they were removed? Still cause her pain?”

Simpkins tilted his head, studying the gromek. “Doubtful if they were removed. Why?”

Doom shook his head. “No reason.” The ogre watched Doom join the others in moving the largest corpses away from camp with an unreadable expression. He remained silent even once Tiwaz returned to the camp. She did not speak, nor did anyone speak to her, as she changed form and redressed. Breakfast was eaten early before they struck camp and resumed the journey towards the looming range of mountains and the ominous Dragons Peaks.