Andrea paced up and down nervously. It was past noon and Dagen was still nowhere to be seen. To make matters worse, the twins were both eating a cheery meal over the fire while joking about him hanging high. But Dagen was too smart to be caught, thought Andrea with a hint of concern. He couldn't be caught. As she turned away from glaring at the chuckling twins, she saw a tall figure coming over the rise.
"Dagen!"
She flew across the ground towards him. Dagen looked up and raised a hand, acknowledging her cry. Andrea slid to a stop. Something was wrong. Dagen would normally holler out a greeting, not wanting to startle them with his arrival. But that was not the only thing that appeared to be off. Andrea noted that his mouth was set in a hard line and that he seemed to be walking stiffly, almost limping. And he barely even glanced at her as he passed by her, his shoulder bumping into hers. Keeping a safe distance between them, Andrea followed him back towards the campfire.
When the twins saw him, they both called out a greeting with Ronan adding something about giving him up for dead. Dagen ignored them, heading over to where Andrea's bed rug lay. Bending over it, he grabbed her pouch, and tipped it upside down. Several books fell out, tumbling across the ground.
Andrea stared at them, her gaze shifting as Dagen moved his foot forward to kick the smallest of the books in her direction. It was the one on portals. Andrea's nails dug deep into her hands as she eyed it. Then raising her eyes, she met Dagen's. To her shock, they were no longer a pale ice-blue, but burned a fiery yellow. She stepped back, shaking her head.
"It... It's just a book." Her voice was low and unsteady, and she could feel her hands trembling.
"Just a book?" snarled Dagen. "I thought we all agreed going to the library was off limits. And I thought we were doing this to help Felan."
Something inside Andrea snapped. "No, that's what you are doing. I also want to go home. You didn't want to go to the library because you can't read. But, I can. And I wasn't afraid."
Dagen lunged forward, grabbed her shoulders, and began shaking her roughly. "You little insolent brat. You could have been caught."
Andrea stared at him with wide eyes. Up close and out of the shadows of the trees, Andrea saw for the first time, his swollen cheek, and the wild, almost maniacal glint in his eyes. She had never seen him this angry.
"I'm sorry," she blurted out, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
Dagen's grip tightened, his fingers locking around her arm like iron. "Sorry? Sorry for what? Sneaking out in the middle of the night? Sorry for doing exactly what we agreed not to do? Sorry for making us worry? Don't you realise the mischief you caused? You could have been caught. Damn it, Andrea. Have you no brain?"
He let her go with a shove and turned away, breathing heavily. He seemed to sway on his feet, and he leaned over, one hand pressed to his chest, while the other gripped his head until his knuckles turned white.
"Dagen, I-"
Andrea reached out and touched his shoulder. Before she had time to react, he swung around slamming her to the ground. Her head smashed back onto the forest floor, stunning her. Trying to sit up, her vision blurring, and the world swaying around her, she was aware of the sounds of panicked shouting. She stumbled dazedly to her feet and turned as she heard an enraged snarl. The sight that met her eyes, caused her to freeze and time seemed to still. The memories flashed back through Andrea's mind as she unconsciously backed away.
It was the wolf. The wolf who had attacked her that night. Its glowing eyes were like fire and its jaws gaped as if hungry for her blood. Ronan and Rodarn were holding it back, their arms straining as the wolf struggled against their grasp. Spinning around, Andrea fled.
How long she ran, she didn't know, but she eventually stumbled to the ground, exhausted and well away from the camp. As she sat hugging herself and crying in terror, she heard a noise. Lifting her head slowly, she listened.
Andrea, Andrea, it called.
Andrea rose unsteadily to her feet. It was the voice. It was calling her home. She followed it willingly, her heart feeling light and her breath coming evenly as it sounded louder. Soon the trees parted, and Andrea found herself back in the clearing with the pool. It was as if her feet moved of their own accord, as the voice drew her closer to the water's edge. But just as she reached its edge, something grasped her about her waist, pinning her arms to her side and drawing her back.
Andrea screamed and kicked at her captor, but it was to no avail.
"Let me go." Her voice was high with desperation as she thrashed about wildly.
"Quit it, Andrea."
It was Dagen's voice that commanded her, but she didn't stop.
"It's calling me," she begged, trying to escape from his grasp. "I can go home. I can finally go home."
Dagen's arms tightened around her. "You can't go, Andrea. I won't let you."
"You don't understand. The doorway is open. I can go home."
Dagen shook his head. "If you go home, the people here will die. Are you really willing to let that happen?"
Andrea faltered and her attempts to break free, ceased. She went limp, held up only by his arms. The voices faded. A tear rolled down her cheek as she laid her head back against Dagen's shoulder, exhausted and disheartened.
"I just wanted to go home."
Dagen hesitated, then very slowly he rested his head against hers. "I know. And you will. I'll make sure of it, I promise."
The tears began trickling rapidly and she bit down on her lip to keep it from trembling.
"I am really sorry, Dagen. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I didn't know you would get hurt like that." She felt him stiffen and let out a small mirthless laugh. "You didn't have to tell me. It was pretty obvious. Your face is such a mess. I am so so sorry."
She sobbed bitterly, and pulling away from his grasp, turned and buried her face in his chest. She didn't know why she did it. Perhaps she felt the longing to be held in strong arms like her father had once held her when she was a small child. Or perhaps, she was ashamed of her tears and wanted to hide them from his sight.
Whatever the reason, Dagen did not disappoint her. He wrapped his arms awkwardly about her, staring over her head into the distance. Thinking back over his own childhood, he realised with bitterness, he had never been comforted like this. Not once could he remember the warmth of a comforting embrace. It was so foreign a feeling, that despite the sense of security, he felt almost suffocated by it.
But something deep within him told him not to deny it to the crying girl. He held her for a long moment, allowing her to be the first to pull away. She rubbed her eyes over her sleeve and looked up at him. Her gaze seemed to take him in and he looked away uncomfortably.
"So, you were the wolf."
It wasn't a question. But neither was it said in fear or anger. She was too tired for that. Nor could she find the energy to blame him. For she realised now, that hurt and angry, he had been startled by her touch. His mind had obviously been caught up in the suffering he was silently enduring and he had no doubt mixed up the present with the past, mistaking her touch with that of a hated soldier. So now half understanding the action, she stated it simply as a fact.
Dagen nodded. "There is no point in lying about it. Perhaps I should have just been truthful from the start. I am one of the werewolf kind. I am also the one who attacked you that night. I thought you were a soldier and in a moment of uncontrolled anger, I attacked." He looked down at his hands and when he spoke his voice had dropped to a whisper. "I was so ashamed. You were just a kid and I almost killed you." He took a deep shuddering breath, before slowly sinking to the ground.
Andrea sat beside him, keeping silent so he could find the words he wanted to say. After a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke again.
"Ever since I was a small child, I had trouble controlling my temper. And I let my hatred for the king and his soldiers possess me. When I see them, I want to let the beast out. I want to kill them. So, when I saw you that night and mistook you for a lone soldier, I felt the urge to bring you down and tear your throat out. When I saw you were only a young girl, I felt so ashamed. Not just because I nearly killed an innocent kid, but because I had felt the urge to kill in the first place. I had told myself it would never happen again. For even the soldiers are just the king's pawns. But...but when I got caught-"
He broke off and turned away, his hand running over his face. Andrea could hear his deep rapid breathing as he tried to overpower the beast within him. He soon relaxed however, and leaned forward to idly pull out small blades of grass, as if trying to focus elsewhere.
"But after being caught, the way they pushed me around and humiliated me, made me rethink all that. I wanted to kill them so bad, but I couldn't because I knew I would die before I had even finished changing form. So, I forced myself to endure it. I was already jumpy after being released and when you touched me, I imagined myself back at the prison cell and I felt the urge again to kill them. I forgot I wasn't there anymore and that it was just you. I am really sorry, Andrea."
Andrea stared at him, not knowing what to say. How did one even comfort someone in such a situation? She reached out cautiously, making sure she caught his attention, before placing her hand gently on his arm.
"I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have snuck out and I should have been more understanding. But there's one thing though. What you told me that day when we were talking by the fire. Was it the truth? About your father, I mean?"
Dagen sighed.
"Yes, he was one of the village folk. But my mother was from one of the wolf tribes."
He paused and looked away as if ashamed. In that moment, Andrea finally understood his outburst on how Felan might not want to be what he was. Dagen had never been talking about Felan. All along he had spoken about himself. Dagen saw himself as others saw his kind, a monster. Her thoughts were interrupted as Dagen continued speaking.
"I don't remember much about her and I have no great love for my father. Maybe I have no need to be a part of this war because of that, but they are still of my blood. And their people are my people. I wish no bloodshed for either side. That is why it matters so much to me."
Andrea nodded. "I see."
Dagen still avoided her gaze, no doubt regretting having let his secret out. Andrea spoke again.
"Can I ask you something personal?"
Dagen glanced at her, then shrugged. "Depends what it is. Some things are better left unspoken."
"I was just wondering, what did happen to your parents?"
Dagen stiffened and Andrea noticed to her discomfort, his eyes had moistened. For a moment she thought he would keep silent but after a pause, he spoke.
"My mother was one of the ones who suffered for being a mage. The villagers killed her. Shot an arrow through her side and left her to crawl into the woods to die. She took me with her knowing that the villagers would try to kill me too." He took a deep shuddering breath. "I was only two."
Andrea felt a chill run down her spine. A depressing realisation passed over her, as she realised she was not even surprised by the disgusting inhumanity. The human race here was no different from her own human world.
"What happened then?" she asked gently. Although it filled her with unease to push him to talk, Andrea could tell this was something that had been boiling within him for many years, almost driving him to the point of insanity.
Dagen continued, the words spilling out one after the other, as if he was trying to get them out as quickly as possible.
"We were found by an old hunter. He buried her and took me back with him to the mountain where he lived alone. He was hard on me, but he taught me everything he knew. How to hunt, how to shoot, how to fight. He taught me all I needed to survive. On the day of my fifteenth birthday, I told him I wanted to go back to my people and find my father. He let me go. Didn't even try to stop me once. He even gave me a map and circled the village where I could find him. I-"
He broke off abruptly and turned away.
Andrea watched him closely. "Did you find him? Your father, I mean."
Dagen's mouth tightened and a hard look came into his eyes.
"Yes, I found him. But when I told him who I was, he turned his back on me. Declared he didn't know me and said that I was no son of his. I was hurt and felt betrayed. I was too ashamed to go back to the old hunter, so I fled to these woods. Lived here ever since."
"Do you ever think about going back?"
Dagen shrugged. "I don't know. There wasn't any fondness between us really. He looked after me and gave me all I needed, and I was grateful to him. He was gruff and stern, but he wasn't unjust. Maybe I will go back one day, just to see how he's doing. I don't know." He ran his fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture. "Sometimes I want to, sometimes I don't. I have mixed feelings about it."
"Is there a particular reason you don't want to?" Andrea wanted to know.
Dagen hesitated as he thought about it.
"Well, I have a feeling he knew what would happen. Like he knew my father would turn his back on me. When I told him I was going, he looked me in the eye and just said 'You are really sure you want to do that?' I told him I was, so he gave me what I needed for the trip. What if he was expecting me to come back to him? Or even worse, what if he's glad I stayed away? I was only ever a burden to him. I mean, he treated me decently enough. He let me eat as much as I wanted, went to the bother of building a bed for me, bought me clothing, and even repaired the clothes I tore, but if I did something bad, like if I got into a fight with the village children when we went down to buy food, disobeyed him, or lied to him, he thrashed the living hell out of me without mercy. He was hard on me, but I guess I respected him. He could have left me there to die. He knew what I was. Yet it was him who patiently taught me how to control my shape-shifting. Looking back now, I realise he was practically a father to me, even if he wasn't the most loving. But I am afraid it won't be that way anymore."
Andrea moved her thumb gently over his arm, before giving it a gentle squeeze. Dagen glanced down at her hand, then raised his head to meet her gaze. Meeting his questioning eyes, Andrea searched for the right words.
"You won't ever know, Dagen, unless you do it. Even if he does turn you away, at least you will have done your part. Wouldn't you rather have it over and done with, then to go on forever wondering?"
Dagen looked down at his hands and for a long moment was silent, as he pondered over his thoughts. When he looked back up, Andrea saw with a sinking heart, his eyes had taken on the familiar cold look, and his voice sounded strained as if he was holding something back.
"Maybe after this war, I will go back. But for now, there is too much to do." He went to rise, then hesitated. "Now you know the truth that I hid for so long," he murmured, in a low voice. "It's of little importance. The twins already knew. I couldn't afford to keep it from them."
"So, that's the real reason you live alone in these woods? And why you knew so much about the packs?" Andrea wanted to know.
Dagen nodded. "Yes, but despite that, I rarely ever change form." He opened his mouth to say more, then clamped it shut and rose to his feet. "We had better get back and get some rest. It probably won't be that long until sunset." He turned and strode away, leaving Andrea to wander along slowly behind him.
* * * * *
That night Andrea dreamed of the young soldier. She thrashed about in her sleep as the pale face with pained eyes haunted her. She cried out as ravaging wolves surrounded him. But as she watched, the wolves turned into whimpering creatures with frightened eyes, cowering in terror as soldiers with eyes like steel, slaughtered them.
It wasn't until Felan came to her and snuggled by her side, that she finally drifted into a deep and comforting sleep. But unbeknownst to her, she wasn't the only one who suffered that night.
Seated by the campfire, head buried in their arms, someone else fought the demons in their head. But for them, there was no peaceful end.