Private Tales The Space Between

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
"Sheep tes-- Joseph!" She was fighting laughter and pushed him away playfully as she turned back to her squash. "You're so vicious. If you're not interested in the squash, then go ahead and bathe while the water is warm," she offered, waving her hand at the tub.

The squash was amazing. She ate her half of it and snuck a bite or two from Joseph's before he finished his bath. Pleasantly full, she bathed and sat in the water for some time. The silence in the room was comforting, a lull that they'd all sorely needed. There wasn't anything watching them from the trees, nothing was trying to seduce them to their deaths, and nobody in this room would betray them with clever words. Sighing, she laid back in the tub and soaked in the water until it became cool, a hand idly running over her belly. Was she getting a bump, or was that just her belly distended from eating half of an entire squash? She was so slight, but there was a sure curve to her stomach.

Rising from the bath, she had Joseph help her fasten the buttons at the back of her dress and sat at the vanity, asking him to brush and braid her hair. The steady pull of the comb through her long hair and the soft brush of his fingers as they worked elicited a contented sigh. Yes, this was a good reprieve from the road, and she would be glad to double down their travel to compensate for what they lost here.

The companionable silence stretched until he spoke, his caution breaking the quiet. Though she disagreed, she nodded. He was right. No matter how much she wanted to trust the physician, he had a sure link to fae, and there was no way to know where his loyalties might lie. It felt unfair to assume the worst of Matthias when he'd been so kind, but she knew it would be better than to blindly trust him.

Donning her boots and cloak, they collected Trahaearn and the three of them returned to the clinic. There was a set of stairs ascending the side of the building, leading to a small landing and a bright green door into the second story. Matthias greeted them with a bright smile and Risu poised on his shoulder.

"My friends! Welcome, please -- come in, come in." He held the door and welcomed them in, making a point to loudly announce his guests. As they stepped inside, the shuck's eyes caught a flash of movement and the closing of a small door in the wall. Neither Joseph nor Trahaearn seemed to notice, but she watched the door closely as they walked past it. The scent of brownies was overwhelming.

But when they were led to the dining room and seated, the presence of the other faerie was not concealed. The height of a child and donning a simple, loose white silk dress was a faerie with white skin and hair. She was standing near the hearth, her hands twisting together and pupil-less black eyes cast downward. Slimmer than even Joseph, her strong cheekbones made her dark eyes all the eerier. Her nose was a slight ridge with sharp slits angled downward, her eyes were too far apart, and her mouth was wide. Ears so long they flopped downward at the ends stuck out of her thin, pin-straight hair.

"This is Oona," Matthias said, gesturing to the faerie as he walked over to her. A gentle hand stroked her hair and he smiled down at her. "Oona, this is Joseph, Trahaearn, and..." He faltered, looking up at them.

"Shuck," she offered, a proud smile warming her face as she looked at Joseph. She hoped he didn't mind sharing his pet name. Mal and Malice didn't fit her very well, in spite of Trahaearn's insistence to call her thus.

"Shuck," Matthias repeated with a bright smile, glad to have the fumble remedied pleasantly. "Oona is a bwbach, so you'll forgive her for being quiet. She is a timid creature, but she'll not harm you. You are, after all, guests in my home."

He said the words firmly, and the bwbach looked up at him, her face expressionless as she looked up at him before turning slowly toward the group.

"Welcome, guests." Her voice was soft, sweet. Matthias gave her a pat on the head and came to the table, gesturing at the seats. Oona watched them for several more moments before turning to the hearth and withdrew a kettle, which she used to fill a teapot. Shuck's eyes lingered. She'd never seen a bwbach before, but knew they were similar to brownies -- and easily became boggarts, if crossed.

"Please, sit down," Matthias was urging them, a broad smile lighting his features. "Oona and my kind helpers have assisted me in preparing a splendid meal. I hope you don't mind salmon pie? I presumed such would be a refreshing change from salt pork and wild game."

Taking his place at one of the four places at the circular table, he gestured for Shuck to sit to his right and for Joseph on his left. She took her seat, looking up at Joseph with a measure of confusion. She knew absolutely nothing about human ettiquette, but she assumed there was something dictated in their seating that she didn't understand.

// Joseph Meier // Trahaearn //
 
Joseph wasn't quite so sure about the meal when he saw the guests, but the menu calmed him. He was happy for the squash; he'd eaten what his lover had left over, and it had been quite good. He liked roasted vegetables, and squash was no exception. If she liked that, he'd have to get her to try pumpkin pie. Shuck was looking a little lost. He pulled out her chair for her and leaned in, giving her a kiss on the ear. "The guest's position of honor is on the host's right. He's honoring you, me to a lesser extent." he told her quietly, trying to clue her in on the etiquette.

He took his seat, looking at the other fae with curiosity. Oona. She was an interesting creature, even if he didn't know much about bwbachs. He was happy about the salmon pie. Fresh fish was a delight of his, and he loved the idea of a home cooked meal after being on the road. Apples and jerky could only get a man so far. He plunged into his meal with gusto, devouring his vegetables and his share of the pie. He refused whiskey, though it was offered. He wanted to stay sober with Shuck to look after. Gods, he was thrilled she had introduced herself as such. Hearing her say it over Mal had gladdened his heart.

Joseph smiled at her across the table as they ate. "So how did you end up here? A half-breed in a human village?"he asked. The question was blunt, but there was only the barest hint of malice in it, and he did listen as Matthias told them about his past. He felt better after dinner, exploring Matthias' home and looking through his books. He did enjoy reading...it was one of the things he had hated about being away from home. He'd never been able to keep a book at hand on the road. Not that he was doing much reading between drinking himself to death.

He found himself idly standing in Matthias' home, reading quietly. He loved books. He'd have to get more of them. Maybe...when he had a stable home. He set the book back and looked at Shuck. "Ready to go?" he asked. "We have to get some sleep."

Sleep they'd get, but in the morning Joseph was up early and ready to go. He opened up one of the windows to look outside...and stopped. He stared. A blanket of white confronted them, the icy breeze brushing his cheeks. The world was swathed in quiet. "You have got to be fucking kidding." Joseph growled at the still air. "Snow."
 
Trahaearn had taken his bath after receiving the kind gesture from Joseph, merely shaking his head after eating the food. If Joseph thought it was a slight, the man was sorely mistaken as Trahaearn gobbled them up with a slight chuckle. When they fetched him, he couldn't help but wear a large smile as they walked. His change of clothes consisted of green pants, paired with a soft white shirt and his leather boots. He wore his leather belt as well without the sword frog, leaving it and the sword at the inn.

Matthias greeted them, and took them upstairs. He ignored the small door that closed upon their arrival, taking an educated guess as to what might have use of a door that small. A faerie the size of a child, dressed in a simple white dress and attending the hearth. Matthias introduced them as Oona, and after a brief exchange of names, Oona greeted them as well, and he carefully took her hand before placing a small peck upon it.

"Juräf, shu ä tshe ga," Trahaearn greeted the bwbach with sincerity, a smile appearing before speaking again. "Us lädävo gaba shu ä." Hello, my white friend, the pleasure is mine. Trahaearn took the far seat when the rest were assigned, and before the meal started, addressed Matthias when he remembered something that Joseph had said.

"Rïnärishe krïtshä shu ä," Trahaearn began with mock alarm, looking to the meal and back to Matthias quickly. "If I recall, fish was on the list of things to avoid for an expecting mother?" there was the tiniest hint of sarcasm in his question, with hint of a smirk also present as he watched Joseph out of the corner of his eye. My kind healer.

With that small detail out of the way, Trahaearn began to tuck into the meal. He listened to Matthias's story after Joseph's curt prompting. A human and a fae wasn't uncommon, but the blending of Wisp and human had certainly made attractive offspring. It was a shame that they didn't reproduce more often. To this end, he expressed interest in Matthias in subtle ways, eyes that lingered a moment longer than usual. When Matthias came and offered the whiskey, his first stop was Joseph who declined.

Matthias offered the whiskey to Trahaearn, a nod before the man placed a hand on his shoulder. The small shift in the warlocks body, the slight inclination of his head toward the hand as he thanked Matthias for the glass. The subtle signs continued on over the dinner table. When the empty plates were exchanged for dessert, and his second glass of whiskey appeared, a grin appeared as he spoke.

"I am so happy that this is here." Trahaearn spoke as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a small sip. After finishing dessert, they separated, Joseph finding a pleasant book to become lost in while the other three began speaking on a number of things. Trahaearn continued his campaign, which seemed to go well over Mal's head. Joseph signaled that he was prepared to leave, which did not make Trahaearn stand from his seat. He lifted his glass to Joseph, bidding him goodnight and they would see him in the morning. He was going to stay in the good company of the doctor and continue their conversation.

In the morning, they would knock on Trahaearn's door at the inn, but no reply would come from it. His belongings are not in the room, and when they went to the doctors clinic, he would be waiting for them, his mood significantly more cheery than it had been.
 
Joseph was happy to leave Trahaearn to his flirting with Matthias. Ergh. Just when he thought he couldn't dislike the man any further, he went and did something like that. Joseph figured what would happen when they left Trahaearn behind with Matthias. He couldn't be trusted, and yet their warlock had gone and fucked him. Joseph sighed and led Shuck away from Trahaearn's room in the morning. If he was betting right, the man had spent the night with Matthias and would probably be there saying his goodbyes. Joseph rolled his eyes and kissed Shuck. "Come on, let's pack the horses." Joseph muttered.

The snows had put him in a fouler than foul mood. He could already feel the steel biting up his leg, gnawing and tingling against his skin. The throbbing, dull aching would start next, the type that a man felt in his bones. He packed up Shuck's horse and his own, helped her up onto hers, and rode to the clinic. He didn't bother waiting. He gave Trahaearn a foul look, and spurred his horse with a heavier kick than he might have. "You're late, you stupid shit. I hope you caught something." he snarled, urging his horse into a trot.

He seemed to be perfectly content to run Traahearn ragged. Joseph, despite his leg, was a good horseman. He made several passes near Trahaearn, close enough that if the other man didn't get out of the way, he'd get a hoof in the paw or hip. "Move, you stupid bastard." Joseph hurried ahead.

The pace he set was hard. He had to keep up a steady trot to keep the horses warm without sufficient blankets. He made stops every ten miles or so, to chip away ice from the horses' shoes and make sure they weren't about to slip in the road. The snow started falling again, gentle and white. While there were only a few inches on the ground, the warning was clear. They were out of time to mess around. Now was the time to put the nose to the grindstone and keep a grueling pace. He kept a close eye on Shuck. The hard pace was something they hadn't experienced yet. They'd ridden fast, but they weren't stopping to rest as much this time.

Joseph unpacked some blankets from the back mid-ride, offering one to Shuck to keep her warm. "Let me know if we need to stop." he told her. "And listen to your horse. If he starts slipping, we need to warm his feet up and get rid of the ice buildup."
 
"A good mood." Trahaearn replied to Joseph's snarl, blissfully ignoring the little mans foul blustering. Joseph decided to run the horses, and Trahaearn ragged. Passing by him several times close enough to clip him had he not moved. He didn't bite back, simply ignoring the little man's contempt. If he was going to be in a bad mood, so be it.

It tickled him when the man shot ahead only to fall behind again, since only he knew where they were going. He kept the destination to himself out of spite, the little mans ire being the only motivator for an amused dog smile to appear. The snow was the hardest part of the whole thing, as it clumped in his paws and made life more miserable than Joseph could.

When they stopped to chip ice away from the hooves at noon, Trahaearn went ahead and caught a pair of hares that had the misfortune of making themselves known. He didn't bother bringing them back to skin. Rather artfully, he ended the hares suffering quickly with a solid chomp, spitting out the forefront of the critter. He made quick work without a knife, the skin almost sliding off with his beginning at the legs. He was left with fur less hare corpses, and silently presented them to Mal when he returned.

He requested the cup for tea, and poured enough water from the skin to suffice steeping. Holding it by the handle in his right, his fingers snapped and he willed the fae magick into a flame that softly warmed the cup, bringing it to a boil after a short time. Once it was ready, he handed it back to Mal and shifted back into dog form, ready to go again.
 
Matthias was a gracious host. He was lively and conversed with them on a broad range of topics. When prompted, he explained that he'd been born of the union of a human mother and a will-o'-the-wisp -- admittedly a very strange affair. He was born and raised not far from this very village and had taken Risu as his familiar at a young age. He had gone to Elbion College (whatever that was) to train to be a doctor and a mage, and had spent the last forty-or-so years doing what he loved: helping people and fae.

The dinner was pleasant. Shuck couldn't remember smiling so much in their whole journey thus far, having done so much in this one evening that her face hurt from it. She hadn't known it could hurt to smile so much. And the food! Matthias had remarked at the simplicity of the meal, and she kept her compliments to herself. A brownie could take offense to praise, and she was not about to chase away such fine cooks as these. She nursed her small glass of wine, and had shamelessly helped herself to two servings of tart with -- bless the man -- cream on the side. Her faerie sensibilities were well cared for, and she had a cup of her tea when they retired to the sitting room.

She watched Joseph. He seemed happy, content. Matthias had shown him his personal library, and the rest of them had sat around talking to one another. Trahaearn and Matthias were laughing at something funny that she didn't quite get, but she smiled along. Looking toward Joseph, her smile grew. There was a peacefulness here, not unlike that they'd found in Yaste's cottage, and it was going to be hard to leave.

But leave they did. Shuck waved goodbye to Trahaearn and Matthias, walking back to the inn with her arm twined with Joseph's. The night air was crisp, and she took a deep breath of it before they entered the inn and climbed the stairs to their room. She dressed down for bed and, lulled to sleep by the sound of her lover's heart, fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Joseph's curse the following morning was a dark harbinger. She rose, helping him pack away their things and dressing for the snow. She had her morning tea, having the last of the pastries Joseph had ordered for her the day before, and they had packed up the horses to depart. Trahaearn wasn't in his room, but rather at the clinic. She frowned at Joseph's irritation at that, looking between the men as Joseph hastily rode off and Trahaearn shifted into dog form and gave chase.

Whatever was going on, she wasn't privy to it, so she waved to Matthias and bid him farewell with the assurances that she would see him again when they returned from the journey to reclaim her heart. Risu didn't make an appearance, for which she was grateful.

The road was rough, but not unbearable. Trahaearn was right -- her tolerance for the heat and cold had returned to normal. With her cloak and boots, she was fairly comfortable. She did her best to dismiss Joseph's concerns, assuring him he'd let her know if she was uncomfortable, but in truth, she was faring quite well. Their moods, however, were putting a damper on the happiness that still hung around her from their previous day with Matthias.

Human males grappled for dominance; it was something she'd seen repeated over and over in the streets of her village. She did her best to cheer up Joseph on their stops. Stretching and relaxing while he picked at the horses' feet, she dug out little snacks and adjusted his hat to make sure it was covering his ears. She rubbed her hands together to warm his and pressed his nose against her cheek to help warm it up. When he offered her blankets, she took one but made sure he had one as well. He was so cold while she burned with an inner warmth, a reminder of his human frailty.

At noon they stopped once again, and while Joseph picked at the horse's hooves, Trahaearn went hunting. Shuck was grateful. Her stomach had begun to complain and it was time for her tea, but she waited patiently for her caretakers to do their various jobs. She felt rather useless, recalling when she had been a dog and had hunted for her and Joseph, had done the perimeter sniffs and had contributed whatsoever. Not that she was going to voice that opinion; she was clever enough to know that was a losing battle from the beginning.

Trahaearn returned with two skinned hares, holding them up to her silently like an offering to a goddess. She blinked at them.

"Aren't you going to-- Oh." She recalled Matthias' advice, and she stared at the hares. Try it. She took off her gloves and cloak, just in case, and took the first carcas from him. Listen to your body.

Matthias, of course, had not been wrong, and with a great deal of inner conflict and confusion, she supped from the rabbit's body. Its blood was still warm, and she was glad she'd thought to remove the cloak; blood ran down her chin, dripping onto her dark vest. Trahaearn offered her a kerchief when she was finished, passing the first carcass back to him, but she made him wait while she licked her hands clean and washed them in the snow. It was exactly what her body had been asking for, and the small blood offering left her feeling fuller than if she'd eaten both of the hares.

She finished washing her hands and face, then put her cloak and gloves back on to resume drinking her tea. Shuck cast nervous eyes toward Joseph, heat coloring her silver cheeks pink. It was one thing if she'd been eating rabbits as a dog, but as a human (ish) woman? The apprehension was plainly written on her face.

// Joseph Meier // Trahaearn //
 
Joseph was grateful for Shuck. She showed him she loved him in those little moments, making sure his hands weren’t frozen or taking time to adjust his hat. Though his mood was foul and pain spiraled up his leg, he treated her gently. Most of his explosive temper was taken out on Trahaearn. He treated the man alternatively like he didn’t exist or worse, that he did and just wasn’t worthy of any kind attention. He saw the ice building up on Trahaearn’s paws, and ignored it. Dogs needed to bite the ice out from between their toes. He was grateful Shuck wasn’t one at the moment. Travelling like this was difficult even on all fours, and the weather made it ten times worse.

He watched her eat the raw hare. That explained a lot. She was hungerin for raw flesh and blood, not just meat in general. That explained the snake heart obsession at Kitty’s. He sighed, and put his arm around her waist. Whatever she needed. Pregnant women got strange cravings, and fae were even stranger. Just so long as she stuck to wild game, he’d not have a problem with it. He kissed her cheek reassuringly, and kept them moving.

The snows dogged them for days. It was hard to stop and make camp, because all the tinder they gathered was soaked in wet. Joseph took to drying moss in his jacket, packing it in along his ribs to dry it out. Any dry tinder he could find, he wrapped up and strapped to the horse. Firewood was becoming precious, as was game. Most herds had moved south or were happily avoiding their loud crunching through the snow and ice.

Joseph caught small birds for Shuck as a bobcat. His magic was behaving better outside of the faelands. It was a pretty sight; he’d slink away as a small, fluffy brown cat and emerge leaping several feet in the air to catch sparrows and woodpeckers. Rabbits became rarer, and soon game became hard to find at all.

They were on a straight line to Heinrich’s compound, and that thought was all that kept Joseph from losing his temper. Packing blankets around his brace didn’t help the cold, and he took to sleeping with it on. That presented its own dangers. It kept the metal from freezing, but it was starting to rub and chafe. Not to mention the nightmares were getting worse. Fears of Shuck getting her heart back and falling for another plagued him. Fears of a miscarriage. Fears of breaking her heart. Fears of her existing through his own death. He would be but a blip in her existence, a mere 70 or so years. Less, after his payments.

It was wearing on him. Nightmares meant less sleep, which meant control of his temper frayed. He kept them to the pace. Protecting Shuck and his child mattered more than his own misery.

In hindsight it meant his guard was down. He went hunting for them, determined not to lean on Trahaearn for their meat. He wanted to be a provider to his lover. It was hard to concentrate on his forms without sleep. He kept losing the idea of the fox, finding himself on all fours as a man when the magic bled through his fingers. Submerging his brace in foot-deep snow felt like plunging his leg into acid. The pain drove him to stand, his mind trying to scramble and command the magic. He leaned against a tree for a moment, rubbing his eyes.

The strike came out of nowhere. A weight slammed him into the tree, and teeth closed around his throat. Joseph panicked, kicking, punching. Through the panic of being choked and the haze of sleep he realized he was punching a man. He attempted to shift, his head extending and wolf teeth filling his mouth. His attacker responded simply. He yanked his head to one side, pulling Joseph off kilter, and slammed his head into the tree. Joseph had to begin again...and earned another slam.

Volker felt the shapeshifter go limp in his jaws. He dropped him into the snow and shook his head, blinking. He was stock still, ears pricked for any sign someone had heard their struggle. Thankfully, Joseph had wandered too far from the camp. Volker presses a few fingers to Joseph’s bruised throat. Still breathing.

‘One down, two to go.’ Oor muttered, leaning against the tree. ‘I wouldn’t worry about the girl, but that warlock is going to be a problem.’

Volker snorted. He was an older human, creating sixty, but only a fool would dismiss him due to his age. He was muscular, the body of someone built to haul corpses. A knife roll was strapped around his upper thigh, the hilts made of human bone. He was quite proud of his toolkit; the largest blade was the size of a short sword and hilted with a femur, giving him an easy club. The smallest was made from a toebone, a simple spike for gouging. The others all had a range of uses from skinning to torture to cooking. Volker was dressed painfully simply for the weather. A white shirt, black pants and leather boots.

The resistance to cold was due to his companion. Oor looked like a burned corpse. His flesh was paper thin, and he wore only a funerary shroud around his skeletal body. A red glow shone from his chest, matching the gigantic black wound in Volker’s. The pair were tied together, a shade tethered to the mortal realm by his companion.

Volker picked up Joseph and threw him over his shoulder. Now to follow. Quickly, quietly, keeping out of sight. The brace gave him an idea, and given a few moments of peace he’d follow through on it.

_____Sundown___________________

Joseph woke sharply, with the distinct feeling of pressure around him. He blinked. Fur? He was swaddled in furs, tied up with rawhide like an infant. He blinked, drawing a ragged breath through his swollen and bruised throat. He had to get out of here...he couldn’t see the monster that attacked him but the man would return for him. He hadn’t been strangled outright, only knocked out...he scowled and shifted.

The pain that rolled up from his leg made him scream. Spots hovered on the edge of his vision and his hearing went dull. Panic rose in his chest and he fought the swaddling, yanking his thin arms out. He has to grab ahold of an animal, any animal! The weasel came to him, but the second he felt fur crawling over his body, it vanished with a horrific blackening pain. He couldn’t use magic!

The source of the curse made his gut twist. He sat up, and stared. A blade was impaled in his calf, straight through muscle and between two struts of the brace. It hummed, sending tendrils of nausea up his gut. A warning. He wasn’t to use magic. The pain was indescribable. He sat up, slowly, and touched the blade. The end was bound with rawhide like an old fur trapper’s tool, and staked into the ground safely out of his reach. The sun was going down, and cold was creeping into the furs. Joseph swore. He was trapped.

Volker wandered the edges of the camp. The first thing he took notice of were the horses. Horses, and many animals as a general rule, didn't like him. The gelding lifted his head sharply and whickered nervously, looking to and fro in Volker's general direction. The horse were nervous, dancing at the end of their leads. A predator was in the woods. Volker opened his mouth slightly, inhaling deeply, tasting the air as well as smelling it. She was here. The one he'd been sent for. Her scent was thick, mixed with the scent of the shapeshifter and the warlock. His information had been good.

He circled the camp again, learning what he could with scents. She shared a tent with the human. He nuzzled the canvas briefly, snorting and heading into the trees again. They'd find the shapeshifter. He'd be awake by now, and screaming in pain. All Volker had to do was wait for the snows to cover his tracks, and wait until he scented them on the wind. The female would come for her mate, and that was who he'd been sent after. The warlock was his major concern. He'd been told specifically to avoid the man if possible, or take him down quickly.

Volker was prized over other serial killers for one solitary reason: his sense of patience. He sat in a tree overlooking Joseph, watching the small man try and cover himself as much as possible with the furs. It was a good trap. Even if Joseph did manage to yank the knife from his leg and stand, he'd never be warm enough to survive the night. He didn't have to worry about baiting; the man cried out for her intermittenly, bellowing echoes into the trees. All he had to do now was wait. He was safely out of immediate sight, he'd placed Joseph upwind of himself, and had sat still enough for the snow to reduce his tracks to subtle divets in the snow. The trap was set.
 
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The road was not kind. To avoid having to ford the cold river they had traveled upstream for days, putting as many more between them and Heinrich's. Two weeks, Trahaearn had explained, to get what had taken them one when they had crossed this way the first time. It was time they didn't really have, and she could see how it was wearing on Joseph.

She did what she could to keep him warm, suffering under three blankets and both of their cloaks at night to keep him as warm as she could, forcing him to wear both of her socks over his brace, and thawing out his frozen hands when they made their regular stops. He was working hard, but she knew there was something else. Too often she was pulled from her own dreamless sleep to comfort him when nightmares dogged him. Though she could do what she could to keep him warm, she could neither combat his bad dreams nor his campaign against Trahaearn any more than she could banish the snow and cold. She wasn't about to put herself between the two -- they had to figure it out on their own. They would sort out their place with one another when they were read, and not a moment sooner; her intervention would only stall the inevitable. So it was in nature, and so (she assumed) it was between human males.

He was miserable, and she was concerned, but she didn't dare try to coddle him. Joseph might have been a small man, but his pride wasn't. She couldn't blame him. Her own pride bruised rather easily, and it was all she could do to watch the two of them running ragged to care for her. It chaffed her to sit patiently while one (or both) of them went out for game and kindling. The shuck could only stand by and watch as Joseph cared for the horses and as Trahaearn used faerie fire to light a meager campfire or warm her tea. She was as useless as the doormat of an abandoned home.

The hours dragged on into days, and she was never so glad to have a week pass as the one they had endured. Five days separated them from Heinrich and she was eager for them to come and go. As Trahaearn made their night's camp, Shuck stood with her tea cradled in her hands and watched Joseph wade into the forest snows before shifting, his sleek feline form bounding away into the fading light. She watched after him for a long time before returning to the camp with a sigh.

But night crept toward them, and Joseph didn't come back. Her eyes kept scanning the trees, waiting to see Joseph return with his prize, but he didn't. Dusk descended, and she stood to pace around their camp for what must have been the tenth time that hour.

"Trahaearn, I'm worried," she said -- again. "He's been gone too long." Once more, her eyes followed his tracks into the woods.

Joseph wouldn't have stayed out so late out of stubbornness, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn't have abandoned her now. A hundred different things could have happened to him. He could have fallen through ice, been startled by a larger predator, or -- worse -- found by human hunters in the woods. Each fear came with a tremble that was becoming a frantic shaking that she couldn't stop once it had begun. She whirled back toward Trahaearn.

"If you won't leave me alone to go look for him, then I'm going." She didn't give him a chance to argue otherwise. Joseph's trail was easy to find but difficult to track in her current form. As a dog, she would have had no difficulty leaping through the snow banks, but her humanoid shape was ill-suited to wading through the drifts and banks, even with her long legs. The wind had obscured a great deal of his tracks, but they were always able to pick up his scent and find it again.

They both smelled it long before they saw it, and her throat was tight as she rushed forward. When they came upon the first signs of struggle, Shuck stood frozen in a panic that clenched her whole body. Her eyes raked over the disturbed snow, the impressions of two bodies tangling together and the crimson spray of blood in the snow and on one tree nearby. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and it took Trahaearn pulling on her sleeve with his teeth to yank her out of that paralysis. Her chest was tight as they followed the single set of tracks away from the scene -- a stride that wasn't Joseph's. She tried to collect herself, but the wind burned the tears in her eyes.

Night fell, and they followed the trail for what must have been a mile. The bitter wind picked up, biting at even her resilient body. Her mind was filled with nothing but fear and worry; he wouldn't make it in these severe temperatures if he was alive yet at all. She felt sick, but she was too desperate to know to stop. She couldn't stop, wouldn't. Joseph needed her, and she needed him.

She saw him before Trahaearn did, her eyesight sharper than his in the darkness, and her breath hitched.

"Joseph!" Shuck called, scrambling past Trahaearn to follow the trail. She could see him lying in the snow, bundled up in furs and something tethered to his leg, staked nearby. Though she hadn't gotten far before her warlock bounded past her, shifted to human form, and threw his leg in front of hers.

Hitting the snow on all fours, she stared at the snow inches from her face for several long moments before she slowly turned her head to look up at him. Her eyes were crimson with rage. He'd knocked her down. He dared knock her down. A violent indignance coiled up from somewhere deep within her, and she bared her teeth as he spoke. Trahaearn was trying to caution her, that it was an obvious trap.

"I don't care," she seethed between sawing breaths. He was almost certainly right that this was a trap, and whoever had set it knew she wouldn't be able to leave Joseph to suffer. They were right, but they were wrong to think she'd be too afraid to go to him regardless. Slowly rising, she didn't tear her eyes away from his, livid.

"If it is, then it's time you did your damn job." He was supposedly her retainer. It was time he proved his worth.

Challenging him to stop her, she turned back toward Joseph. He didn't stop her this time as she rushed forward. Before her knees hit the snow she was already peeling back the furs.

"Joseph? I'm here." She struggled to breathe. His lips were almost blue and his nose and eyes were purple from the cold. Frost clung to his skin and he was ice cold when her hand touched his face. She hastily pulled off his gloves, sucking in a breath. The tips of his fingers were blackened, his hands so pale they were almost blue in places.

"Gods, Joseph," she breathed. Her concern had eclipsed her anger momentarily. Her eyes blazed red as she took stock of him, recognizing a human who was suffering from hypothermia and frostbite. The human world was often unkind, and she'd seen many pass in the hard winters. He had been cracked in the head -- numerous times, if the blood was any indication, and his throat was swollen, brused, and covered in bite marks.

Shuck peeled off her own gloves, putting them over his hands to try and return some warmth to his frozen digits. She hastily pulled off her cloak and her coat, and had pushed back the furs in preparation to bundle him up, when she saw the knife. It was through his calf, the blade wedged between the iron bars of his brace. Shadows curled at the edge of her form and her lip peeled back from her teeth as anger flashed through her, hot as coals and virulent as a wildfire. Somebody had done this to him. Someone had tethered Joseph to this place to lure her here.

// Joseph Meier // Trahaearn //
 
They rested as much as they needed to make sure Mal was healthy. Ensured that she had received the fresh, uncooked game In her meals, and the combination had done wonders for her. She looked far better than she had when he had first seen her, seeming far more lively than before.

He and Joseph took turns finding game for her, their only true jobs apart from each other being the faerie fire and chipping ice from the horses hooves. He hadn't messed a whole lot with hooves for a good long while now, and while it was likely he could easily remember his time as a stable boy, it gave them separate tasks.

Kept the two men apart and focusing on something other than each other.

When the task of fetching game came up this time, Joseph went out and Trahaearn set about on the tea. The flame flickered into existence, and he kept his attention on it while Joseph disappeared into the trees. He continued with camp tasks while Mal began to worry about the man, and admittedly, he began to worry as well. Nightfall came upon them, and Mal expressed her concern once more.

The black fur shone its silver tint as he stood and shook, his dog form being more comfortable in the cold as he looked to where Joseph had walked out of sight. He had been gone for too long for it to be pride, and being close enough to human settlements in his fox form, he may have been mistakenly shot for his pelt. It wouldn't make their trip any easier had he been shot by another ignorant mortal, but the alternative was far more alarming.

The possibility of him laying out in the snow dying from catching a badger at the wrong time also made him wonder. She expressed that she was going out if her wouldn't leave her alone to go find Joseph, to which he slipped the bag on with his sword and followed closely behind.

The followed his trail until they came to a scuffle, his nose hitting the ground and staying there to try and identify the strange scents that had stirred around the area. It smelled familiar, but it was just off enough that he couldn't place it. Like grasping at a dragonfly, it would keep itself just out of reach when he tried to think of who that smell belonged to.

She stood staring at the tree that had been marked with blood, which he could only guess who the owner was since there seemed to be two in the struggle. Strange that they would attack him, unless he had shifted in front of some humans. Very possible considering the amount of times he had heard them both startle awake at night. He gave her a solid yank with his teeth to get her moving again.

"Let's go find him then." Trahaearn sighed, not knowing just what to expect at the end of this strange trail. The gait was wrong for Joseph, and the first sign that things were wrong was when Mal called for Joseph. He spotted the shape shifter a moment later than Mal had, forcing himself to charge ahead when she took off into a sprint.

Shifting as his arms touched ground, a solid roll brought him into a position to trip her. And he did. She fell forward, and he could see the subtle shift in her form as a little bit of Malice began to shine through.

"Do not waltz into a plain as day trap." Trahaearn explained as he locked eyes with Mal, the crimson color of her eyes sending a shiver down his back. She slowly stood, eyes never leaving his as she explained that if it was a trap, then it was time to do his job. A faint hint of a smirk appeared, his eyes squinting into the night as he rushed forward with her, keeping the sword sheathed for the time being. She took care of Joseph while he kept his eyes moving, his gaze like that of an owl as his eyes went between the forest floor into the treeline all around them.

His looking never failed until Mal peeled back the furs and he caught a glimpse of something protruding from the other mans leg. He peeled his eyes away, still looking for someone, something. They had walked into the trap, now they just had to wait on the hunter to return.

"Get him warm Mal, fuck, cuddle up with him if you have to." Trahaearn hissed, one hand on the leather sheath, the other comfortably on the hilt, waiting. Trahaearn seemed for all intents and purposes relaxed, his face adorned with a smile as he never stopped slowly looking around them. His movements were measured and calm, his breathing steady.

Malice had done this to him several times, walking into traps with him in tow. She hadn't been wrong when she told him to do his job. They had played this game before, it kept things interesting dancing with death, at least for him anyway. She never truly had to worry about it in the past, considering her powers. Now though, the danger of her mortality was more prevalent with her lacking.

HIs salivated a little, waiting for the predator to present themselves.
 
The next few hours of Joseph's life was a half-conscious swirl of misery. He was aware of just how much danger he was in. His leg had stopped responding. No pain, no cramping. It had simply gone limp, and that terrified him more than any pain ever would. The knife in his calf was cold, lancing ice into his very skeleton. He had never really understood the meaning of the phrase 'cold to the bone' until he felt it burning along his living frame. He was also aware of the hunter in the trees. The stranger wasn't impatient. He didn't shift around, or snack, or drink water, or stretch, or go to piss. He sat there, unmoving. He might have been frozen to the tree for all he moved. Any of his questions, swearing, or demands were ignored.

He passed out again. He was cold, so cold he was shivering uncontrollably. His hands curled up against his chest, turning shades of purple and blue he might have thought pretty if it didn't hurt so badly. He swam in and out of consciousness, but only truly woke when he heard snow crunching and the sound of his name. Someone peeled back the furs and a wall of cold struck his stomach and ribs. His Shuck was putting warm gloves on and pressing warmth to his body. Through the haze of pain and cold he remembered the one who'd brought him there. He put his frozen hands against her and shoved. Hard. "Get....away." he hissed at her. "Trees. Up in the...fucking trees. Go."

A wretched scream rose in his throat as another blade thudded into his shoulder, dangerously close to his back. Blood trickled, hot and burning over his frozen skin. He laid there, shivering, the burn of the cursed metal biting into his bones. Thankfully, he passed out again. He was too weak.

Volker stepped out from behind the tree he'd been crouching in. Trahaearn and Malice's argument and her tripping had given him time to come down slowly and quietly. He looked at the pair of them. He'd heard about them from Oor. The deep, black well inside of him knew them. Oor tore apart memories when he left a host, storing pieces of them in the next one. Memories. It made both Trahaearn and Malice familiar to him, more so than the contract he'd been hired for. He stood, waiting, silent, blades in hand and focused on Trahaearn.

He had time. He had weeks. The shapeshifter had maybe half a day if they didn't warm him up. It was a pity. Volker didn't normally hunt men like Joseph. He thought it unsporting of him. He outweighed Joseph by nearly eighty pounds, and the corpse would go to waste. Volker stood, unafraid. He'd been trained and raised well from a very young age, and knew his limits. He'd been preparing for this fight. He slowly circled, angling towards Joseph. If Malice lost her temper, he'd engage her first. She was blazing bright, but her magic was as faded as he'd been told. Here, in this rare moment, he was capable of overpowering her.

'Malice, as I live and breathe.' Oor chuckled at them. He appeared to Trahaearn's left. Enough to make him turn his head. 'You know, I thought long and hard about accepting this contract. I always had a thing for you. Both of us take humanity and actually wash the shit off to make something useful....though why you gave this one boggart magic I'm still puzzling over. Really didn't think malnourished cripples were your type.' The fae eyed Trahaearn. 'Back off, junior. I'm not here for you.'

Volker crept closer towards Joseph, his eyes on Malice.
 
She was still reeling with anger when Joseph began to stir. He was whispering something, and she leaned in to begin wrapping him in her coat and cloak when he shoved her. It caught her off guard and she fell backward, blinking. In the trees? What was he saying? Shuck turned her head, sitting upright to look around, and a blade whizzed past her head, striking Joseph in the shoulder.

"Joseph!" She rushed forward, disregarding the direction of the blade. That would be Trahaearn's problem. Joseph was unconscious but his breathing was labored and the knife was firmly embedded in his shoulder. Without hesitation, she reached out and grabbed the handle and tugged.

A pull, strange at first and then suddenly yanking the power through her. Not unlike the feeling of Saturninus taking those years of life, Shuck felt the dagger demanding, taking. She held on for only a moment before the pain overwhelmed her and she cried out, her fingers springing back. Cradling her hand to her chest, she braced herself as she recuperated.

Cursed. The damn thing was cursed.

She turned slowly toward the voice and the crunch of approaching steps. As she did, the shadows began to curl away from her shoulders once more. The whites of her eyes had gone dark, the crimson rings of her eyes settling not on the man walking toward her, but the shade that appeared nearby.

Shuck didn't move from her place over Joseph. Fur was springing up on her shoulders and peeking out from the neck of her shirt and vest. Her fingers lengthened into points like talons and the skin of her hands darkened, the black bleeding at first through her nails and fingers then up her wrists toward her elbows.

"What do you want?" she asked. Her breath billowed out of her mouth as it opened, the corners splitting up her cheeks.

// Joseph Meier // Trahaearn //
 
Trahaearn had not seen the dagger in time. When the man came into view, Trahaearn kept his hand on the hilt. He carefully placed himself within striking distance if the man bolted for Joseph or Mal. It would only be one swing, and he guessed the one before him was human, but it only took one good swing to drop a man.

It also only took one missed swing to fuck the entire thing up.

He heard Mal cry out, but ignored her, his eyes never leaving the man. The smile was still there, hands never moving from the blade as her voice took an odd tone behind him. He wanted to look, but knew better. The scents made sense now as he spied the spirit out of the corner of his eye.

It began to speak, making it known that it was well aware of who it's prey was. Still keeping his eyes on the man with the daggers, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. The speaking continued as it made them aware of a contract, which only made the smile grow. It dismissed him, which elicited a laugh from Trahaearn.

"Oor, always the neutral party. I must say, I am surprised you took the contract. Then again, you also know Lady Malice can pay you better than whoever sent you." Trahaearn told the spirit dismissively. He hoped Mal would calm down and let him speak.
 
Volker easily kept pace with Trahaearn, his eyes never breaking from the other man’s. His head was low on his shoulders to protect his throat, and despite his age he moved slowly and fluidly. He was used to the stance of a fighter. He was pressing, slowly, toward Joseph. The trap sprung, the other was useless to him. He knelt, grasping the long dagger and yanking it free from Joseph’s leg. There was a horrifying squeal of metal on metal as the blade slid free. It would have taken Shuck a while to get the blade dislodged. Volker removed it like it had been stuck in cheese.

‘There are other concerns here besides money.’ Oor said with a shrug. He made a tsking sound at Shuck. ‘You know better than to touch those. Enjoy the nightmares. Unless you’ve got something better to offer me, were done here.’

Joseph felt consciousness come roaring back. He was teetering on the edge of blacking out again, more unconscious than not, but he was acutely aware of Volker standing near him. Rage bubbled up in his chest. If he’d hurt his Shuck, he’d feed the old man his own cock. He summoned up his last small scrap of strength and reached up. He yanked the dagger out of his shoulder and swiped drunkenly at Volker’s leg.

The other easily kicked the dagger out of his hand, and followed it up with a sharp boot under the chin. Joseph’s head snapped back and his teeth clicked shut loudly. He was out again before his back hit the snow. Volker snorted dismissively at him, and made a lunge for Trahaearn’s side. He was testing the waters. It wasn’t a true attack, just enough to bring him into range and back out again. It would help him read Trahaearn better. He was faster than the other man with his sword, but Oor had warned him not to take the warlock lightly. He needed to know more about him. He watched him move, made several feints toward his side or attempted to circle him.

‘Malice baby, you’re still shacking up with the half breed wonder and now you’re picking up crippled humans? Even if he is a feisty little bastard. I’ll give you a quick death, don’t worry.’ Oor reassured Shuck.
 
Shuck watched the shade, even as the human came closer, but there was a familiarity to Trahaearn's voice and her eyes slid toward the warlock. He knew it. There was a smile on his face and he spoke casually like this was over tea and not Joseph's body. The red ring of her eyes watched him carefully, considering the alliances she'd made. A moment of caution preceded the shift in her gaze finally toward the human as he slowly approached her and Joseph. She watched him keenly as he reached down and pulled the knife out of Joseph's leg. The other -- Oor, Trahaearn had called it -- spoke to her, and she dared took toward it.

"If you don't want money, then do you want?" she asked again. She could have ripped both of their throats out if she were a dog, but she wasn't. She was trapped in this form, a small show of reason reminding her that she dared not shift. The cost was the tiny life she carried, all the more precious as Joseph lay unconscious and freezing while they negotiated with these--

She heard him moving too late, whirled first to look at the human in time to see his foot sweep the knife out of Joseph's hand before swinging back and cracking him under the chin. Her body shimmer, her upper body shimmering with darkness as she lunged toward the man's foot. The snap of her teeth mirrored Joseph's as she narrowly missed the man's foot, a minor miscalculation that spared him from the rows of teeth that looked more canine than human in her too-wide mouth. And just as quickly the human swung away, swiping at Trahaearn.

Only sparing Joseph a moment's glance, she watched Oor as she wrapped him in her cloak at last as the shade spoke to her once more. She didn't dare look longer, knowing what she saw would be bad. Blood was already soaking the furs and his breathing was shallow.

"I'm not dying here," she said stubbornly. She hastily tucked her coat and furs around her cloak before finally standing. Though she didn't move from Joseph's side, she spread her stance.

"I hope whoever sent you has paid you well to die. That is, unless you want to discuss the terms of abandoning your contract."

She lifted her chin indignantly. Time was precious; Joseph wouldn't have long in the cold like this before his heart and lungs stopped working. As reluctant as she was to speak in civil terms with Oor, she recognized that Trahaearn was fairly matched -- he had yet to draw his sword, but she didn't know if it would offer him many advantages in the close-quarter fighting the other human appeared to prefer. Her voice was low and confident, and she bit back her desperation well, but it was obvious why she was willing to make a deal for the sake of time.

// Joseph Meier // Trahaearn //
 
He had not drawn the sword, and was reluctant to do so. The smile was still present as he dipped and weaved out of the way of the man's assault. They were pretty evenly matched, and his sword would do little with the man pressing close quarters so hard. He wouldn't need the sword though, save for the odd deflection now and again. Lovely thing winter, considering how dry the air was. How much they were both moving, how the earth felt like it was humming to Trahaearn.

"She does have a lot of clout Oor." He was waiting to see if Mal could strike a deal. Oor and his host were always a good thing to have on ones side, and they might even have their help on the return to court if a deal could be struck. For now, he waited, continuing to avoid the attacks but prepared to strike if the other man choose a different target.
 
Oor laughed at Shuck. ‘You really have lost your memory if you think a fading fae and a half breed warlock aren’t something I can handle. Now, when both of you were in your prime I wouldn’t spare it a thought; it would be impossible.’ He chuckled, watching his host play with Trahaearn. Neither of them were serious about fighting, but he knew Volker liked to minimize distance. It made swordsmen nervous and gave them no room to draw, and got him close enough to bring teeth into play. The shade considered her question, smirking knowingly at her. ‘Well I’ve been trying to get you to stud out Trahaearn forever, but you know as well as I do he has female descendants. Give me one. A decent one to improve what Volker lacks, without weakening what he does have. The contract I’ve been working for has a girl in play, but there are concerns with her...with one of Trahaearn’s line, I’d not be worried. I even sought out that stupid human pet you were dragging around. Too bad she was in the ground before I found her. Good waste of a womb, that one.’

Volker calmed his feinting. He didn’t need to strike so hard or so quickly when Oor was negotiating. He continued to sweep back and forth, keeping an eye on Trahaearn and keeping close enough to press his advantage.

‘Give me a girl of sixteen or eighteen, and I’ll happily aid you. I have gold. What I can’t buy so easily are breeding stock.’ Oor told Shuck. ‘Volker, back off. Occupy yourself, I’ll call you if I need you.’

Volker gave him a look, and seized Joseph’s leg by the brace. He dragged the man toward him. ‘Sorry about the damage to your pet, but business is business. I’ll replace him with another and dispose of this one.’ Oor told her, grinning as he apologized.
 
Oor laughed, an awful sound, and her lip twitched back in disdain at his remarks. Volker and Trahaearn continued to dance at the edge of her vision, but she didn't look away from the shade. What he wanted--

"One of Trahaearn's descendants?" she repeated, incredulous. He spoke of the girl he wanted like she was breeding stock, as if Trahaearn was nothing more. A human girl, presumably stolen from this family of Trahaearn's. Her confidence faltered and she dared look over at her warlock. He wasn't asking for a favor at Court or for years from her own life. Was she willing to offer up an innocent human life for Joseph's?

The answer to that question rankled her, and as Volker backed down, Shuck's dark eyes searched Trahaearn's. She looked for anything, some violent denial that such a thing existed, but the truth was there -- a momentary flash like lightning in his eyes as he looked back at her, surprise and horror making his smile fall away. He schooled himself quickly, gritting his teeth as if bearing a great pain as he looked away.

Do it.

She felt a prickle like a sharp nail drawn down her spine as his voice fell into her mind. Trahaearn wasn't looking at her, focusing once more on his opponent slowly approached her and Joseph once more, but she heard the words as clearly as if he'd whispered them in her ear. Baring her teeth at Volker, she didn't look back at Oor when he spoke.

"He lives," she insisted, taking a half step closer. "You take away whatever curse was in those knives, and if he dies this deal will be immediately broken." There was no room for negotiation in her voice as she stared Volker down.

The muscles in her jaw worked as she struggled to continue. Loathing was wrapping around her throat, making it difficult to find her voice. "You'll abandon your contract and won't come after us again. You won't help whoever sent you find us. You will go back to where you came from and there will be peace between us henceforth. And when my mantle has returned to me, I'll get your girl."

Shuck finally looked toward Oor, her eyes blazing with hatred. Toward the thing, toward his pawn, toward herself, toward Trahaearn for not fighting for what she so selfishly took. She didn't do this for herself; for Joseph, she'd sacrifice a hundred human girls, and the truth of that was a knot in her throat that nearly choked her. But she swallowed it. She wasn't a good person; no matter what he thought of her, no matter how good she tried to be in this incarnation of herself, that dark shadow hung over her and she couldn't escape it. Malice would do it, and she truly hoped that she was dead and gone when the time came to do so.

But for Joseph's life, the shuck raised her hand toward the shade.

// Joseph Meier // Trahaearn //
 
Volker stared back at her. He had no problem meeting her eyes, and when she bared her teeth he did the same, bristling at her. He didn’t consider Joseph worth the effort. It wasn’t as if Trahaearn was on the ground. He dropped Joseph’s leg unceremoniously back to the snow, sheathing his weapons. Whatever deal this was, it wasn’t concerning him. He picked up the blade Joseph had ripped free from his shoulder, cleaned it, and slid it back into its place in the knife roll.

“You cannot remove it.” Volker told her. “The dreams will come for a few nights. Nothing more. We can abandon the contract for two months. Sixty days. No more, no less. If you are not restored, then it is done. Your human is very weak. It is no fault of mine. He is not part of the deal.”

Oor smirked. ‘I think that’s a good way of ensuring you don’t go and fade off on me, leaving me with a pissed off client.’ He said. ‘Listen, I’ll do you one better. We can fix the pet if you’re that upset about one human.’

Volker didn’t look pleased at the prospect, but once Oor shook her hand, the deal was made. Oor dealt with the fae lands, while Volker kept them alive. Neither could exist without the other but while Oor was bound by fae laws, Volker was not. The killer knelt, picked up Joseph, and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Oor vanished in a small cloud of ashes.

Volker’s camp wasn’t far. He had a kill hung, some poor farmer or hunter that had strayed too far into the woods. Much like Joseph, he was alive, but barely. Tendons in his knees, ankles, and shoulders had been cut, leaving him without usable limbs. He was tied to a tree, blue and shaking.

The rest of the camp spoke of someone who had been on the road for decades. Volker’s tent was oilcloth, and the interior coated in furs. A lamp was burning low outside of it, and a large iron cooking grate was mounted over a campfire. It was warm, undisturbed and calm, aside from the dying man tied to the tree.

Volker took Joseph into the tent and took off the brace. He had a curved needle and thread, and began stitching the man up. In the warm tent in furs, color slowly returned to Joseph’s face. “Come embrace his chest. If warm blood from his arms and legs rushes back to his heart, it will fail.” Volker told Shuck. His voice was flatlined, emotionless, but held little room for argument. He clearly expected to be obeyed.
 
He couldn't remove the nightmares, but she grit her teeth. Fine. He'd suffered nightmares before. That was something she could actually do for him. But she couldn't get her name back in sixty days -- not when she had at least half again as much before she would even begin thinking about giving birth, let alone returning for her name postpartum. And if Joseph died...

But it was sixty days with them off of their backs, sixty days of security to get where they were going and hunker down. If they came back, she would have to make the deal more lucrative or fight them outright, but those were the options she was left with. They didn't stand a chance here, like this. Joseph would almost certainly die, even if they lived.

It seemed that Oor recognized the importance of Joseph's survival, however, and conceded at least that. She was that upset, though she didn't deign to confirm it to him verbally. The hatred was plain in her eyes but she maintained the hand. Oor took it, and the deal was struck. The familiar tingle of magick passing between them ran from her fingers to her spine, and she was bound to it, body and soul. In two months time, she would break this deal, and she knew it, but until then it would stand.

Oor vanished and Volker slung Joseph over his shoulder like fresh game, and she had to bit her tongue. She struggled to reclaim her usual features as they walked and she didn't dare look at Trahaearn. Her eyes remained fixed on Joseph alone, though occasionally following the drip of his blood to the snow below. Nausea coiled in her gut, and she didn't bother trying to untangle what the cause of it was; the deal had been struck, and whether she paid what was due or not, she'd learned something dark about herself this evening.

Volker's camp would have seemed normal if she could have ignored the human tethered and wounded, freezing in much the same way Joseph had been. She gave him one look before turning her eyes away and following into the tent. It wasn't her problem. She couldn't save him any more than she could have saved Joseph from such a fate.

She watched the human carefully. Her eyes, at least had their whites back, though the color was still a deep, cautious red. Her hands were no longer clawed, but the black hadn't receded, and the corners of her mouth still cut into her cheeks. Volker, to his merit, seemed well adept at what he was doing, the needle and thread moving effortlessly through Joseph's skin, which was reclaiming a small bit of its color.

The command elicited a moment of eye contact, but she obliged, putting her arms around Joseph's narrow chest and holding him tight. The proximity, being able to feel his body warming up, the steady beating of his heart against her own chest... It all did her more good than anything else could have in those moments. Trahaearn stood in the tent with them, so she dared to close her eyes momentarily and breathe in Joseph's scent. He was alive. At what cost didn't matter to her. She'd chastised him once for attempting to offer anything to the hag to keep her and their baby safe, and yet she'd done the same -- with someone arguably far worse.

Her arms trembled a little as she held him close, and when she opened her eyes they were bloodshot from holding back tears. Stubborn as she was, however, she glowered at Volker, refusing to exhibit any further emotions until they were away from this awful man and his awful patron.

// Joseph Meier // Trahaearn //
 
Volker was utilitarian in his treatment. He went out to put a bowl of cold rice on the grill, letting it warm while he checked on the stitches and bound Joseph’s leg. He examined the club foot with interest, turning it slightly. He clearly didn’t think much of what he saw. When there was little more else he could do, he went outside, and added a little broth and sliced vegetables to the rice. Warming the human from the outside would do little good without warm water and food to follow.

Joseph recovered slowly. While color returned to him and he stopped shivering, his fingers still had black at the tips. The brace being so cold had left burn marks on his skin, adding to welts and sores from wearing it in the snow. He was still asleep. The pain had been enough to lay him out, which he might have been grateful for at what came next.

Volker opened Joseph’s limp mouth and craned his head back. A length of leather tubing he normally used to filter water was carefully pushed down Joseph’s throat. Volker tipped water down it, warm from the tent, and then the rice thinned down with broth. He worked the food down the tube, his powerful hands squeezing downward. “He must be warmed from the inside.” Volker explained simply. “If he begins to retch, do not remove the tube, or he will breathe it in and choke.”

When he was satisfied the majority of the warm, mushy food was inside the smaller man, he slowly withdrew the tube and laid it aside. He watched Joseph for a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to vomit, and looked at her. “You are foolish to choose such a weak mate. We are not the only ones. Others will come, and he was too easily caught off guard. You must become useful, or perish. Come with me.”

Volker swaddled Joseph up again, piling furs on him, and looked expectantly at Shuck. He led her outside and to the half-frozen man tied to the tree. “Why can this man not move? Look closely.” He asked her, nodding to the human.
 
Her anger cooled as she watched the man stitch up Joseph's wounds. A bit remained, simmering on what the very same man had done to him just hours prior at the behest of his patron. His movements were intentional, succinct, but he wasn't unkind. Shuck watched him curiously. He stepped outside for a moment and she finally shared a silent look with Trahaearn. She still felt sick over what she'd agreed to do, but it wouldn't matter if they wouldn't have her name for far longer than that.

But they weren't going to get a moment to talk any time soon. Volker left the tent intermittently, but never for long enough for Shuck to find the words to even begin wading into the conversation she needed to have with him. So she simply held Joseph, watching the color returning to his skin and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. She could handle the fallout of her choices later.

Only once did she move defensively, when Volker moved to put the tube down Joseph's throat. She looked nervously toward Trahaearn before relenting, though she watched and listened with a grimace. When he was finished feeding him, Volker removed the tube and waited several moments before speaking to her.

It wasn't the first time she'd heard the admonishment, and she doubted that it would be the last. She knew by now how foolish she was -- foolish and stupid and selfish. She was a bane upon his life, and she would certainly be the death of him. And yet...

She didn't look at him, her jaw clenching as she watched Joseph's sleeping face. He wasn't as weak as he thought. Not usually, at least. Had he been so easily overpowered? They were pushing too hard for her sake, and she'd known that, but these events underscored a problem they'd seen coming and ignored.

He bid her come outside, and she finally looked up at him, weighing whether or not she wanted to leave Trahaearn or Joseph. But they'd made a deal. She reluctantly released Joseph, her hands lingering over him before Volker wrapped him up and led her outside.

"Stay with him," she said to Trahaearn, her hand resting on his arm for a moment before she passed by him and followed the human outside.

Leading her to the tethered human, she watched him as he spoke before turning to assess the subject. Without knowing him it was uncomfortably easy to not feel any concern for his wellbeing. The obvious, immediate response seemed to be because he was freezing to death, but she did as he instructed, looking closer. He was tethered to the tree similarly as Joseph had been, but his arms and legs hung useless.

"You cut his shoulders, knees, and ankles," she observed, pointing to them each in a sweeping gesture down his body. "He can't stand or walk."

She looked up at the man with a slight scowl. Though she could distance herself from the sight, she still didn't like it. Her conscience was broken, not her decency. Shuck didn't yet understand how this was going to make her more useful. She knew a dozen ways to kill and eviscerate things, but that wasn't the problem -- the problem was that she was pregnant and without her magick.

// Joseph Meier // Trahaearn //
 
Volker nodded. She saw the problem, but didn’t see the lesson. Could she do such a thing without magic? Killing and destroying were so much easier with it, and took the artistry out of it. “I did not need magic to do such a thing and neither do you. Fae use magic as a crutch. I need to take care of food. Fetch wood for the camp. Dry wood. You will need to search carefully in deadfalls under snowpack, but decaying wood heats and dries itself. Your mate cannot move until morning. Use this time to learn. Do not worry about getting lost; you and your pets move as stealthily as blind bears.” Again in that same tone. Matter of fact, honest, and expecting obedience.

Volker approached the freezing man, withdrew his knife, and began cutting. The long, quick sweeps of his hands removed his prisoner’s, prompting loud cries of pain from the frozen man. Two hands, neatly sliced off and discarded, then the arms at the elbows and shoulders. The latter two were set on more oilcloth in the snow. The man shrieked, but his lifeblood spilled onto the snow quickly. He fell silent easily.

“You take only what you need. Everything else is to its own.” Volker told Shuck dismissively.
 
She watched him as he explained, then looked back at the tethered man. Trying to look past her surface annoyance, she began to see the reason he'd showed her this. Though his approach was coarse and harsh, it made sense. She'd allowed Trahaearn and Joseph to let her grow accustomed to feeling useless. She could still do something, even if it wasn't much. Now, especially, with Joseph incapacitated, it would be vital that she pulled her weight. Although, the remarks after bidding her find kindling was a bit much.

Narrowing her eyes, she had been about to go back to the tent to tell Trahaearn where she was going when Volker withdrew a blade and began to neatly carve up the human. Her brows shot to her hairline, and she opened her mouth to say something, but it closed without uttering a thing. What was she supposed to say? The man quickly fell silent, his blood staining the snow as the other man carved off his arms in precise portions, setting them aside.

Shuck grew uncomfortable as she watched him, not because of the human who was being carved alive in front of her, but rather because her stomach tightened, reminding her she had yet to eat this evening. Her mouth began to water as she stared at the first opened shoulder, his blood flowing so freely down his ribs and into the snow.

It was upon his remark that the pieces began to fit together. I need to take care of food. She stared, no words possibly capable of conveying the surprise and mild horror of what she was seeing. Animals ate their own kind in desperate times, but humans eating humans?

Very slowly, Shuck turned toward the tent and met Trahaearn's eyes. She wanted him to go back inside the tent, to spare him the sight and to save some small sense of her pride. They weren't going to be getting any fresh game tonight. This was their dinner. She struggled to master her tongue for several moments.

"I..." She what? There was no point in beating around the bush. She licked her lips and met Volker's eyes, pointing at the unconscious man. "I need his blood," she said quietly. In that moment, she determined that there were a great many things about this evening that she could never tell Joseph. Too many secrets, too many things he'd never forgive her for. But she wasn't a good person -- couldn't be and had never been, in spite of her attempt to be one.

// Joseph Meier // Trahaearn //
 
Volker let her watch, not pausing in his work. Her comment didn't seem to give him any pause. He stopped only briefly to grab a thick ceramic bottle from inside the tent, and held it to the artery he'd severed. Blood pumped into the bottle. Volker filled it, capping it and setting it aside next to the meat. "Wood first." he told her, and took the knife to the man's face. He removed the muscles in his cheeks, and his tongue. Those were laid next to the other cuts on the oilcloth. The rest of the work went rather quickly. Volker removed the man's legs in a similar way to his arms; feet first, then the calf, then the thighs. The kneecaps were added to the waste pile. Volker didn't look at her again. He pulled an entire camp by himself, and he wanted to see how she gathered wood. She needed to learn a lot. How to boil bandages, how to cook, how to butcher properly, gather wood, wash dishes. There were so many things contributing to a camp that Joseph could not contribute to.

Volker set three portions of meat on the fire, along with potatoes he'd dug up earlier in the day from the frozen ground. Rosemary was the easiest spice to find, and had the bonus of being evergreen. It was so simple to just shake the ice off and use it. Salt was much more precious, and Volker used it sparingly. "Your mate will need days in warmth." Volker told her when she returned with the firewood. "It is unwise to move him." They would have to move him, but the best Volker could do was advise against it. "Make a sled, pull him behind the horses. He cannot ride."

He studied her for a moment. "You will not hold him. You should not be lifting something of that size with child."
 
If he'd been bothered by the notion, he didn't show it in the least. As if she'd asked for the maple from a tree, he grabbed a bottle and collected the man's blood and set it aside. Shuck didn't turn around to see if Trahaearn still watched or if he'd gone back in.

Wood first. Shuck stood there and watched as he began his task again and turned toward the woods. She set about her task diligently, all the while keeping her ears and eyes alert. Her hands were cooled from digging in the snow, but not beyond only mild discomfort. After half an hour she'd managed to gather an armful of something, dug out from a couple of fallen trees. She wasn't sure if it was enough, but she also wasn't sure how long she was supposed to be gone with this task.

When she returned, he'd finished carving up his man. Volker was at the fire, three cuts of meat laid out on the grate, and she set down her kindling for critique. She didn't feel especially confident about her find, but she'd followed his instructions -- plain and direct as they were -- and had at least tried. It was the first real thing she'd contributed to camp activities since taking her human form.

Listening to Volker, she nodded and committed the information. If their journey had been a challenge before, it was going to be far more difficult now. They'd only been a handful of days from Heinrich's, but now? She was determined to be useful.

She had been about to argue that she could hold him just fine -- had picked him up with ease at Kitty's even in her reduced strength. But his eyes were sharp, studying her, and his observation sent a chill through her person.

"Tell nobody," she whispered in her immediate breath. Her face wasn't one of threat or confidence, but a moment of vulnerability where her fear showed through. How closely were Oor and Volker connected? If the host knew, did the shade? It gripped her body with the same strange fear as thinking she'd lost Joseph, that something precious would be ripped out of her hands before she ever had the chance to fully know it.

But she curled her hands into fists at her sides, her jaw clenched, and the moment passed. "I'll not carry him, then," she agreed. "But I don't know how to make a sled."

// Joseph Meier // Trahaearn //
 
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