The wolf knew it was in danger, a danger it could not fight by tooth and claw.
It was pierced in several places - its shoulder, its flank - and its own blood was seeping through its fur along the pain radiating across its body. Its rib burned, its tail stung, and the silver was still biting into its forelegs.
It couldn’t fight much more, even if it had a chance at winning.
From behind its keeper, ducked down, it saw the other humans creeping closer; it could smell their fear.
1,356 words | The monster of Lindborough (sequel to Winter is coming)
Content| Werewolf whumpee, fear of death (own and others’), death (extras), fighting & resulting injury/stabbing, arson, referenced: bullying, past torture
Notes| *vibrates lightly* Joy tries out a skill! Plot occurs!
Joy went out to fetch coals for the forge, expecting with every step to be ambushed. But before he even reached the usual spot, something caught his eye, distracting him.
In the pale light of dawn, smoke rose into the still, cold air; several thin, distant wisps, too many to be from a small travelling group.
Joy knew what that meant. Marauders, or worse - an army.
William stepped back from the pup, all chained up and trembling with cold or fear or pain or some horrid mixture of the three. He’d shoved down his feeling sorry for him last month, told himself it was only a wolf, he shouldn’t be bothered.
But he couldn’t do that any more. He didn’t wantto do that anymore.
Alastor left to look after his own family once he could no longer help, and now it was just William and the wolf.
Only yesterday, sitting next to the unrestrained creature would have terrified him. Now, he was only torn on whether it was wise to wait for the morning before he cut the arrowheads out, despite everything.
But he had to be sensible. He didn’t want to get bitten, and the wolf couldn’t seem to understand.
He just continued running his hands through the thick fur, waiting for dawn, the wolf melting into his touch despite the pain it must be in.
He could hear noise outside, but no one came to bother him, and he hoped Alastor would keep the rest of the townsfolk in check until he could leave the wolf’s side long enough to explain his actions.
The hours crept by until finally, dawn rose. William pulled back from the wolf just in time before it whined in a new sort of pain, then shifted, the crack of its bones filling the room.
The boy was crying before the fur was all gone, the injuries exposed even more when it was, the bandages coming loose. As soon as he could move, he turned to stare at William.
»Please - please-« He choked the single word out, over and over, seemingly unable to say anything else, terror written plainly across his face.
»Pup.« William tried to interrupt him, but he wasn’t sure the boy even heard.
»Please - please don’t let them - please, please, I’m sorry-«
»Pup.«
»Please don’t - please, if - please, I’d, I’d rather die-«
»Boy.«
The boy opened his mouth again, but then just stared, making no sound, and William wished he’d thought of that before. Why hadn’t he? How couldn’the?
»You saved my life.«
The boy sobbed in agony; William couldn’t even tell whether it was more physical or emotional.
He didn’t know what to say or do. »It’s going to be alright.« They seemed such silly, empty words. He wished he could have simply patted the boy on the head, like he had done with the wolf, but that would have been silly, too.
The boy continued crying, but at least he’d stopped begging.
»Listen, we need to get these arrows out of you.« He picked up the knife again, and the boy’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move away like the wolf had done. »Alright. Bite on the blanket or something, this is going to suck.«
And so it did. William wasn’t exactly a surgeon - no one in the village was - but he worked as quickly and efficiently as he could, trying to ignore the boy’s cries and moans, trying not to think about whether a mere human could even have survived these injuries.
His hands were covered in blood, but finally, he had finished bandaging, the weapons removed, the blood-flow stopped to what seemed a survivable rate.
The boy’s eyes were closed, and his breath was shallow. William wasn’t sure he was conscious anymore, but he still told him, »That’s it. It’s going to be alright.«
* When Joy came to, his body was still wracked with agony. And underneath it, still, terror clawed into his heart. It’s going to be alright, the smith had said, but that was easy for him to say.
Boy, the smith had said.
Slowly, the world around him came into focus as well, albeit blurred by tears he couldn’t stop - everything hurt so much. He was on the bed - the smith’s bed.
The smith sat next to him, his eyes on him.
He had no way of knowing how much time had passed, whether he had been unconscious for minutes or days. The smith looked tired, but then, neither of them had slept that night.
»Boy,« he said, again, when he noticed Joy open his eyes. »Are you there?«
»Please, sir,« Joy whispered past lips that barely obeyed him, the weight of what he had done crashing down on him. »Please, I’m sorry. Please, I c-can’t do that again, I’d rather…« He couldn’t say it - had he really said it out loud earlier? But it was true. He knew he would be put through the ritual again - he had to, when its primary purpose had failed, when they knew he could shift forms at will - and he couldn’t, he cou-
»You’ve saved my life. No, listen to me.« The smith leant in, looking earnestly into Joy’s eyes. »You saved my life, and probably a few dozen more. You have nothing to be sorry for. No one’s going to hurt you, not while I have anything to say about it.«
It sounded too good to be true. He knew it was to good to be true - he was a monster, and he had just proven it, and- »I could have killed you,« he sobbed.
The smith remained unfazed. »Well, you didn’t. And without you, I wouldbe dead. You made a hard choice.« He breathed a soft sigh. »I get why you’re afraid. But it was the right one, and I’ll argue that with anyone who doesn’t want to agree.«
Joy found no words to say, but maybe this time, there simply were none.
Some precious moments passed in silence, and Joy tried to wrap his head around what the smith had said. He was safe.
He was safe, as long as the smith had anything to say about it.
But would he? Wouldn’t the others simply think he had gone mad? Was he risking them both; should Joy talk him out of it? Kill it, a fearful voice echoed in his mind.
Before he could bring himself to speak, the smith did, his voice even softer. »Those hurt you, don’t they?« He was pointing at the manacles.
It took Joy a moment to figure out an answer. Why was he being asked? Of course they hurt; was the smith worried they didn’t work anymore either, now that the ritual had been proven to have failed? But that didn’t line up with anything else he’s said so far, and Joy didn’t want to believe-
»Yes sir,« he finally whispered, truthfully. The pain was constant and unrelenting, and it had been so long it became a part of his existence - he was a monster, and monsters had to suffer, had to be reminded of their place.
»Right.« The smith hesitated for a moment, then pulled open the drawer in the nightstand, and took out a key.
Joy whimpered when the smith reached for his wrist, his mind refusing to believe what was happening, and so fearing the worst as the smith’s hand, warm and rough-skinned, shifted the manacle slightly, renewing the pain.
The smith threw him a glance, then opened the manacles and let them fall to the floor. The clinking as they hit the wooden boards seemed over-loud, as if Joy were listening with wolf-ears.
They were gone.
He couldn’t believe it. They were gone.
The pain didn’t disappear entirely - his wrists were rubbed red and sore; he had never even noticed over the horrid burning. But the relief was instant, and being as weak as he felt now, he couldn’t hold back a sigh, couldn’t stop tears from rising to his eyes.
The smith eyed his wrists for a moment, then leant back in his chair. »There, that’s better. Get some rest now.«
Joy’s eyes flickered to the window, to the outside, where the rest of the village, no doubt, was assembling to finish off the monster in their midst, only waiting for the right moment to strike-
»It’s alright, I’ll keep watch over you. You need to rest, you’re badly injured.«
The wolf knew it was in danger, a danger it could not fight by tooth and claw.
It was pierced in several places - its shoulder, its flank - and its own blood was seeping through its fur along the pain radiating across its body. Its rib burned, its tail stung, and the silver was still biting into its forelegs.
It couldn’t fight much more, even if it had a chance at winning.
From behind its keeper, ducked down, it saw the other humans creeping closer; it could smell their fear.
»Pup?« Its keeper’s voice sounded breathless, trembling.
It whimpered in response. Its keeper had protected it before, it knew nebulously. It could do it again.
It saw the other humans coming closer. Some had stopped, but some were still approaching, holding weapons beyond nature, like humans were wont to.
It might have to fight. It wasn’t safe, but it might have to. Its lips pulled back.
»Wait!« its keeper called out, the sudden loud sound making it flinch. But it wasn’t even looking at the wolf, it was addressing the other humans.
They hesitated.
»Just let me…« It turned towards the wolf again. »Pup?«
It reached out a hand, too careful and slow to be a threat, even to the wolf’s nervous mind. And this was its keeper. The wolf raised its snout towards it. It hesitated, then touched its head, gently rubbed between its ears for a moment.
It felt good. It felt like family.
The wolf could almost forget what danger it was in, forget the blood staining its fur.
»You’re injured. Let’s get you home. Come on?« Its keeper moved away, but slow, keeping its eyes on the wolf, waiting for it to follow.
It stepped forward, not wanting to leave the protection of his shadow, to be exposed to the glaring eyes of the other humans without a shield.
But it only took a few steps before it collapsed again, its sight blurry and twisting, its legs almost numb under its body.
»Shit.«
It whined for its keeper not to abandon it, leave it to its enemies, and its keeper heard, came back.
»Are you sure about this, William?«
»Shut up.« It bent down. Caressed the wolf’s head again. »You won’t like this. Please don’t bite me.« Its voice was quiet now, even the wolf could tell.
It carefully reached out, and slipped its arms under the wolf’s body.
The wolf yipped with surprise and pain as it was lifted up, its wounds being pulled and shifted. Its jaws snapped of their own accord, but it kept them well away from its keeper, who now stood, and carried it away.
* William considered himself to be a strong man, but the beast was huge, and even he found himself struggling to carry it.
But he couldn’t drop it. It had saved his life - probably had saved a dozen lives or more in the town. The snap had startled him, but it was nothing he hadn’t seen before from a frightened dog, and it wasn’t near as bad as what he had feared.
Alastor followed him home with a few steps’ distance, and made a ridiculously wide curve around him to open the door for him.
Which was unnecessary, it turned out. Of course - the wolf couldn’t have very well closed the door behind itself. William was glad for some to open the other doors in the house, though.
»Bedroom,« he said, and Alastor only briefly glanced at him before he led the way.
He gently put the wolf down on his bed. It whimpered, looking up at him.
»Are you - are you going to transform back?«
The wolf gave no sign of understanding, only whimpered some more in response. Maybe it couldn’t. Maybe it didn’t understand what he was saying while it was a wolf. He should have asked the pup before, but then, who could have known?
»Alright. We’ll have to get these out.« But for a long moment, he only stared at the weapons sticking out from the fur. One of the spears had already dropped out, the wound it had left behind bleeding profusely; it was wiser, then, William decided, to bandage it first.
Alastor helped him wordlessly, handing him fabric strips from as far away as possible. William didn’t call him out on it. He’d been there too recently.
The wolf twitched and whimpered when he pressed the fabric down on the bleeding wound, looking at him pleadingly.
»Shhh.« William took a moment to pet its head, again. It had worked the first time, and he didn’t know what else to do. »It’s going to be okay, pup.«
»Don’t you want to. I don’t know. At least muzzle…« Alastor didn’t finish the sentence, so William didn’t feel compelled to glare at him. Which was for the better, because he had his hands full and he needed to focus.
Once he was done with the first wound, he moved on to pull the other spear out of the wolf. It knew what he was planning to do; he could tell from the desperate whine and the way it pressed its head against the mattress in an almost human fashion.
»Okay, pup. Here we go.«
It yowled in pain, but at least the spear slipped out fairly easily. He knew the arrows would be worse.
But one step after another.
* The wolf was panting. It was in pain, but it was safe, but there was a stranger near, but it was its keeper who was hurting and, at the same time, reassuring it. It was wholly out of its depth; it could only trust its keeper, and it knew, from where, it did not care, that it was doing the right thing, covering the wolf’s wounds.
It still hurt, though. And when the other human brought another weapon, short, but sharp, and handed it to its keeper, and its keeper approached another wound with it, it scrambled away as best as it could, pressing itself against a wall like it had done so many times now, whimpering for pity.
Its keeper hesitated, then, with a heavy sigh, set the thing aside. »Okay. Right. Let’s wait with that until dawn then, and I’ll explain it to you.«
The wolf relaxed, and its keeper reached out bare-handed once more, stroking and rubbing through its fur, its calm voice filling the wolf’s ears.
1,356 words | The monster of Lindborough (sequel to Winter is coming)
Content| Werewolf whumpee, fear of death (own and others’), death (extras), fighting & resulting injury/stabbing, arson, referenced: bullying, past torture
Notes| *vibrates lightly* Joy tries out a skill! Plot occurs!
Joy went out to fetch coals for the forge, expecting with every step to be ambushed. But before he even reached the usual spot, something caught his eye, distracting him.
In the pale light of dawn, smoke rose into the still, cold air; several thin, distant wisps, too many to be from a small travelling group.
Joy knew what that meant. Marauders, or worse - an army.
There was still a chance they were harmless travellers, pilgrims, perhaps. But at home, no one had ever believed that - they would only hope the strangers passed without disturbing the peace.
Joy felt his fears take a different direction. The smith - he had to tell him.
For a moment he debated to turn back immediately, but he couldn’t just abandon his task, and anyway there was probably no rush. The campfires were still burning.
Probably.
When he got back - unharassed, today - he didn’t know how to bring it up. The smith looked at him when he noticed him lingering in the doorframe. »What is it, pup?«
»I - I saw smoke.« He wanted to apologize, as if he were the cause for the bad news and not just the bringer, but he wasn’t. Not this time. »Some ways north.«
The smith set down the hammer. Joy could tell from his expression that he, too, immediately assumed the worst, but he sounded calm when he said, »I’ll go tell the others. You just get back to work, pup. It’ll be fine.«
So he did.
The day passed without incident - except Joy could hear occasional bursts of excited or worried chatter outside. When he took a moment to look outside, no longer afraid the smith would punish him instantly, the neighbours were working on barricading their windows.
He felt queasy. What if- now that finally things were getting better-
»Don’t worry about it, pup.«
Joy still flinched when the smith caught him at the window.
The smith pretended he hadn’t noticed. »They probably won’t even come here. Get your mind off of it. Go on.«
But he was wrong, and Joy felt like he had known.
They were having supper when the sound of hooves - many hooves, travelling swiftly - came.
It was past sunset. If they had peaceful intentions, they would have come long before.
And soon, there were sounds of breaking wood, of screams… of fire.
Joy felt sick with fear. He looked at the smith for some empty reassurance, but he didn’t return the look, staring into nothing while listening intently. There were shouts. Fighting.
The smith got up with clearly forced calm. »Stay here, pup.« He moved towards the workshop, then paused and repeated, »Stay here, whatever happens.«
And with that, he left the kitchen.
Joy stayed where he was, frozen, and only listened to the front door open and close. He couldn’t just stay here doing nothing, he couldn’t just - what if the smith never came back?
He felt the wolf underneath his skin, the beast who knew how to fight. It was night, he could - but no. Who knew what damage it might do?
He decided that heremeant the house; he had to, or he would go insane. He snuck into the workshop like a thief. The hammer was gone from its place by the anvil.
He crept to the door and peeked through the crack.
It did nothing to reassure him.
What he could see of the village was in uproar; several of the inhabitants had come out to fight back against the multiple armed riders - soldiers or rogues, it didn’t make a difference. At least one roof was burning, and Joy thought he saw smoke from further back as well.
It took a moment before he spotted the smith in the chaos, and his heart skipped a beat when he did.
The smith was yelling at one of the riders who was pressing someone else, and threw a rock at them when that didn’t work.
That was enough to make the soldier turn against him. Joy saw his sword flash in the light of the fire, and he felt dizzy; this couldn’t be happening, the smith only had his hammer to defend himself and he couldn’t die, what would happen to him if he died, he deserved to live-
Joy couldn’t just stay here. He opened the door a crack, but then he stayed frozen in place, he couldn’t fight, with what would he fight?
Teeth. The wolvish thought pushed into his mind.
But he couldn’t do that. They would kill him, and if they didn’t, they would put him through the ritual again, and he couldn’t, he’d rather die-
And then - could he trust the wolf to want to protect the smith as much as he did? What if the wolf turned on him, too?
But it seemed he barely had a choice. The smith blocked a sword blow, but it hacked the hammer’s handle apart, and he was backed into a wall with nothing left to defend himself with-
Joy closed his eyes, and, trembling, crying with fear of what he might bring the villagers, and by consequence, himself, he pulled the wolf from inside of him until he felt the terrible, familiar shift of flesh and bone, and broke apart.
The wolf’s pained whimpers changed into a growl once it knew what was happening. Its keeper. Its own. It was being threatened.
And this time, it was free.
* William was sure he was about to die.
It wasn’t the worst way to die, fighting to defend his community, but he didn’t wantto, and his body struggled against it with every fibre of its being, and who’d take care of the pup when he was gone?
The horse and its rider took up his entire world as the soldier raised his sword for the killing blow.
It never came down.
A huge shadow slammed into the soldier, its growl vibrating in William’s bones even as the attacker’s skull cracked like a nut between sharp-toothed jaws. The newly-riderless horse screeched like William had never heard from a horse, and dashed off madly.
»Werewolf!«
The wolf stood before him, its withers the height of his waist, blood dripping from its jaws, a picture of the monster he had been taught to fear since childhood - safe for the silver manacles.
But it made no move to attack him.
They barely had a chance to exchange a look before a spear lodged itself into the wolf’s shoulder. The wolf yipped, but in a moment, the growl returned as it whipped around.
The soldiers had brought no silver weapons, and werewolves were hard to kill.
William had no more room to back away, so he could only press himself into the wall, still breathing heavily from the fight, and watch as the wolf massacredthe soldiers who didn’t have the good sense to leave immediately.
It was a monster.
The fighting was done, the remaining soldiers on the run, before William even had had time to properly process what had happened.
It wasn’t the full moon. The wolf shouldn’t be a wolf - the ritual had been supposed to - it couldn’t-
The wolf collapsed in the town square, not far from the very linden tree where they supposedly had stripped it of its powers, whimpering with pain. Two spears and at least three arrows were lodged in its hide. It wasn’t enough to kill it, not if they weren’t silver, but clearly, it was plenty to affect it once the heat of the fight was gone.
It was a monster. But it had saved his life.
»Kill it!« someone screeched from inside a house, panic in their voice.
The wolf jerked its head, still whimpering, and its eyes found the smith. It got to its feet and hurried over to him, incredibly swift for how injured it must be, and-
It crept behind him, squeezed itself between him and the wall, whimpering still, its ears and tail tucked like he had seen before.
It was scared. The monster who had just mauled multiple armed soldiers, had saved his life, was scared.
As promised, the baker arrived an hour before sunset.
Joy had been scared of the smith leaving the whole day, even when the pain coursing through him should have been more than he could handle. Maybe he just had gotten too good at handling pain.
He knew the baker was afraid of him.
He also knew what fear made people do.
It took all his self-control not to burst out a »Please don’t leave me!« when the smith walked out the door, the baker taking his seat by the bed. But he knew the smith trusted the baker, and asking he trust the wolf more would go too far. He just laid back and stared at the ceiling and traced the grain in the wooden beams and waited for what the baker would do. His tension made the pain worse, but he couldn’t help it.
* William still felt bad about leaving the boy behind. He could tell he was terrified, and Alastor wasn’t exactly comfortable either. But they both must understand how important it was that the wolf’s keeper speak up for him after what had happened. He knew Alastor did, and the boy… well. He probably did too, even if he was still scared. He wasn’t stupid.
The town hall was already filled with voices when he arrived, heated, scared, and everything in between.
If he had needed any confirmation that the wolf was the main source of contention, the way things quieted down when he was spotted would have been it.
He made his way over to Lizzie, who nodded at him curtly. She didn’t look happy to be here - or maybe she wasn’t happy he’d left her husband with the wolf - but he trusted she’d support him; she wasn’t petty.
A civil discussion wasn’t about to begin, though. Where many had quieted down upon William’s arrival, expecting his testimony, Eliza - composed, well-mannered, eloquent Eliza - was engaged in a shouting duel with the millers.
»It’s a monster!« the elder miller screeched, his sons by his side like hounds.
»It was out here saving lives while your coward asses hid in your cellar!«
William couldn’t resist. The way the millers had the nerve to still attack the wolf, now that it had not only proven harmless, but loyal, as a wolf could be, after everything they had done to him, made his blood boil. »Fuck knows you did nothing to deserve his protection,« he shot after Eliza’s words.
He hadn’t fully expected the reaction.
The miller extended an arm, pointing straight at him, and announced, as if it were a certain truth, »The monster has bewitched you, William.«
»Horseshit!« someone shouted, and William needed at moment to process it was Lizzie.
Before he could even say anything, Eliza cut in, her voice getting louder by the word. »And has it bewitched me too, miller? Has it, incidentally, bewitched everyone who doesn’t agree with your cruelty?«
»That’s not-,« the miller spluttered, and William took the chance to cut over him.
»It saved my life. It possibly saved your life, too! Now may we calm down and discuss this like civilized people?«
* Too much time had gone by in an uncomfortable silence. Joy could see the darkness creep up outside the window, and he thought he could feel the baker’s discomfort rise along with it.
Even the smith had been afraid of him in the dark.
He didn’t know if there was anything he could say or do to-
»I’m getting a cup of water, do you want anything?« The baker’s voice was quiet, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to speak out loud.
Joy glimpsed over at him, startled out of his gloomy thoughts. Whatever he had expected, this wasn’t it.
»For… for me too, sir. Thank you, sir.« He wasn’t very thirsty - the smith had made sure of it - but accepting seemed less terrifying than rejecting what kindness he was being offered.
The baker got up stiffly. Joy heard him step into the kitchen - it sounded like he knew his way around - and moments later, he returned with two filled cups.
They drank in awkward silence, until the baker set his cup aside.
Joy’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know what the baker was planning to do; he only felt his eyes piercing him, assessing, perhaps, whether he would fight back if he were attacked.
»You’re scared, aren’t you?«
Joy needed two attempts before he choked out a feeble, »Yes, sir.«
»Why?« The baker furrowed his brow. »You can turn into a monster. You could-« He didn’t end the sentence, but Joy knew exactly what he meant. You could kill us all.
He blinked back tears. »N-not in the day, I can’t. And - and I don’t - want to. It hurts, and I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to…«
There was no reason the baker would believe him. He had mauled people to death just last night. He suddenly felt sick, forcing himself to take another sip in hopes of calming his stomach.
The baker eyed him, his expression unreadable. »William trusts you, you know.«
That was not what Joy had expected, and he had no idea how to respond - but his heart hopped with gladness at the words, even now. He just nodded timidly. He so hoped that was true.
»You could’ve - in the chicken coop. You could’ve attacked the boys and ran away. It was night then, wasn’t it.«
It didn’t really sound like a question, so Joy remained silent. There didn’t seem to be anything he could say. It was all true. He could have. The boys could have been dead because of him.
»You didn’t want to? After everything they did to you?«
This time, bafflingly, the baker seemed to expect an answer. »I - I’m… a monster,« Joy choked out. »They just, just treated me for what I was.« He had to fight back tears. It was all true, but he still so wished it wasn’t him.
»Hm.« An uncomfortably long silence filled the room before the baker continued, quietly, »You were hungry, weren’t you?«
Joy could only look at him confused, hoping he would clarify. He hadbeen hungry a lot in during the past few months, of course, but-
»When you attacked the sheep, I mean.«
Joy felt his stomach drop. There were no right answers here; he would only sound like he was making excuses-
The front door flew open, and moments later - dreadful, terrifying moments during which Joy fully expected an angry mob to storm in and lynch him, or worse - the smith entered
Joy had never been more glad to see someone. The rare smile on the smith’s face told him everything he needed to know.
It took him several heartbeats to even notice he had been followed by Eliza, who stopped at the door, smiling at him.
»You’re safe,« the smith confirmed, barely exchanging a thankful nod with the baker. »You’re safe.«
William watched the boy sleep. He was dog-tired himself, but he had promised.
And after everything, this was the least he could do.
He tried not to think too hard about it, but now, in the stillness of the morning and the gentle ebbing of the shock, it was difficult not to let his mind go whichever places it pleased. Pushing the unbidden thoughts away felt cowardly - after all, the boy had had to actually suffer through what was occupying his mind, while he only felt guilty now for not having stopped it, not having been wiser - but it still hurt.
Sometime around midday, there was a knock on the door, and Alastor came in, bringing him bread rolls. He paused in the bedroom door, eyes wandering from William to the boy to the empty shackles on the floor.
»Come on in.« William kept his voice down. »It’s alright, he’s sleeping.«
Alastor hesitantly came closer, setting the food down on the bedside table. He looked down at the boy, and after a pause murmured, »He doeslook harmless.«
»Yeah.« William shifted to sit on the edge of the bed so Alastor could take the chair, careful not to wake the exhausted boy. He looked deadly pale - he must have lost a lot of blood. His mouth twitched ever so slightly, but he didn’t open his eyes.
A few moments passed in silence, then Alastor asked, »You think he’s going to be okay?« He sounded genuinely concerned, though William couldn’t tell which way; for the boy to recover, or for the monster to become a threat.
»I don’t know.« The truth of the words hit him even as he said them. More quietly, he conceded, »A human probably wouldn’t.«
Alastor only threw him a look, then cautiously said, »But you think it’s. It’s safe to… you know.« He nudged one of the discarded manacles with a foot.
William looked down at the boy. He looked more vulnerable than ever.
Although that was probably only because he hadn’t lookedat him this way when he first took him. The memory of what the ritual - the ritual that had been entirely pointless - had entailed, what they had decided to put him through, clawed into his mind.
»Yes,« he said firmly. »It’s - he said to me… it’s different when he’s transformed. But even then… just… earlier. He was just hurt and scared, is all.«
Alastor eyed him, clearly uncertain, but too polite to say.
»Look, you’ll have to trust me on this. I’ve lived with him for what, almost three months, haven’t I? I’d never… I wouldn’t risk anyone’s safety.«
»No, you wouldn’t.« Alastor sighed. »And there’s others who’ll trust you on this. It’ll be hard to convince everyone, though.«
»I know.«
»Well, we’ll have a meeting tonight.« Alastor got up, running a hand through his hair. »Once everyone’s had a chance to assess the damage and patch each other up.« His eyes flickered to the boy. »It’s going to be best if you’re there.«
William nodded slowly. He didn’t want to leave the wolf alone in the state it was in, but everyone else would probably be at the meeting too. Certainly the millers would want to make their opinion known, but then… »Listen. He’s been harassed non-stop since he got here. I can’t leave him alone.«
»You trust him more than you trust the millers?«
William thought he saw the boy tense a fraction. »Yes. I mean, one party here killed my chickens for no good reason and it wasn’t him.«
»I guess… if you really think it’s safe… I can send Lizzie to the meeting in my place. Keep watch over him.« Alastor didn’t like the prospect, it was crystal clear, and William didn’t want to ask too much of his friend, but he also couldn’t skip the meeting. As much as Alastor trusted him, he hadn’t been there - he didn’t understand the boy’s plight; after all, William himself learned all too recently. He couldn’t just ask him to speak for the boy instead.
»Thank you. Really, I appreciate it.«
Alastor tried a brief smile that only half-worked, then turned to leave. »I’ll be here an hour before sundown, then.«
»Thank you.«
After Alastor had left, William barely had time to reach for the bread rolls before the boy opened his eyes, looking at him fearfully? Pleadingly? William wasn’t sure anymore.
»Have you been awake this entire time?« He took one of the bread rolls and held it out to the boy, like a peace offering. He needed to eat.
»I’m sorry,« the boy whispered, taking the bread hesitantly, only starting to nibble when William took another one for himself.
»You heard Alastor is going to come watch you, then?«
The boy nodded, but tensed, his fingers digging into the bread crust.
»He’s a good friend, you’ll be safe with him.«
»He’s scared of me, isn’t he?« the boy blurted out, tears glistening in his eyes.
»I… suppose, yes. But he’ll learn. Don’t worry.«
The boy nodded, but William didn’t miss the way he avoided his eyes.
