The words from Sir Hans' son still reverberate in my mind on the trek home.

I have a feeling Lorenth is more than he seems.

Gifts come in all shapes and sizes, and nobles are blessed with such things often, or so Momma once told me when I asked about a young nobleman juggling fire in the streets to impress the ladies.

I'm not a noble, but I have a Gift. That simple fact creates more questions than answers.

I'm not sure what speaking to animals will do in the long run. It's slightly useful, sure, but... it's talking to animals. Couldn't I have received shape-shifting, invulnerability, or something more useful in the fights I often find myself in?

I shake myself back into the present and tune my mind to my surroundings. I run a hand down my cause brown dress, back to plain Aria, and I'm glad to have the itchy wig and stiff corset gone.

A figure catches my eye. It would indeed be hard to miss the man surrounded by purple cloaked guardsmen. On his arm is a middle-aged lady wearing a silken purple dress. Her hair is a circular crown waterfall braid, a gem-studded tiara nestled in the center.

The man himself is tall and slim, wide chested with a white silken shirt easily making most of the girls around the noble market swoon. Not me, of course.

Ran snickers in the back of my mind.

Don't you start, I warn the wolf.

She stays silent, but her amusement comes through the bond.

I decide to take a peek at her like she's always doing. Maybe, just maybe, I can annoy her much as she annoys me.

A flash of red and the smell of iron mixes with something strong and has an undertone of warm death. The ripping of muscle and bone, the taste of warm coppery blood on my lips that somehow tastes divine on my hungry stomach.

I pop back into myself, heaving, chucking up the fine dinner Jenny just fed me.

Now I remember the reason I don't peek into Ran's mind. Never again... I shudder in revulsion. My stomach heaves.

Hands pull back my hair and offer me a handkerchief. It's white and soft, almost feathery in my calloused hands. My stomach sinks and my cheeks grow horrifyingly warm.

I wipe my lips, and the hand with long, strong fingers offers me a cup. I sniff the drink, then wet my lips. Once I find it does not tingle, I swish it around in my mouth before spitting it back out.

Only then do I look up into lapis lazuli eyes sparkling in an otherwise straight face. He holds my hair back with one hand as he crouches down beside me. A smile teases at his lips, and I once again notice the large muscles under his shirt... I quickly draw my eyes back to his face.

Guards with royal blue tunics and capes fashioned with a golden dragon seal circle us, some with smirks and others with stony faces and hands near swords.

"Am I so repulsive?" Crown Prince Arin says, a smirk edging out his lips.

I quickly stand and try to bow, but the world tips. He grabs my upper arms, keeping me upright.

"Whoa there."

A hand feels my forehead, and a feminine voice, both soft yet commanding and slightly high-pitched, says, "Is she sick? An apothecary is around the corner."

I pop open my eyes, blood pounding in my ears. "N-No. I'm fine," I say.

"Then let us be on our way, Arin."

"Mother, would you have us rush back to the castle for boring tales of tirades from the nobles?"

She straightens her shoulders, but a smile lingers at the corner of her lips. Her eyes are the same blue as her son, but where his face is strong and carved of stone, hers is, frankly, perfectly amiable in such a way I find it contrived.

It seems both mother and son wear masks, one expressionless and carved from stone while the other has a consistent approachable softness.

"As if this is any more exciting," I mumble.

My blush somehow deepens at the straight look from the queen and the barest twitching smirk from the prince.

"Watching white-wash dry would be more exciting," he says dryly.

"Thank you for comparing me thus, your highness," I reply before I can bite my tongue, nodding my head in a bow.

A deep, throaty chuckle escapes him, and he looks surprised at the sound, covering it with a cough.

He seems to remember he is still holding my upper arms and releases me quickly, stepping back even with his mother in her beautiful purple dress lined in silver. A golden dagger rests at her waist, somehow blending with the dress instead of looking out of place.

I want a dress like that.

With a bow and mumbled apology, I scoot between the guards and back into the crowd. But I feel eyes boring holes in my back all the way until I turn the corner and am out of sight. And hopefully out of mind.

I try to rub away the tingles of his touch, remembering those fascinating eyes. His eyes aren’t nearly so unreadable as his face. He showed surprise, annoyance, and a hint of humor before the laugh. A small smile tips my lips.

I groan, beating my head against the wall at my back, berating myself for my infatuation with the prince. I am an idiot.

But I can't seem to stop thinking about it... so I duck into a back corner, scaling the side of a building. Some things you want to learn. Other things you learn by necessity.

Ran would leave me halfway up a building and make me climb either down or up. She found it hilarious. I put a mixture of beet and blueberry jam on her mane and stained it purple in retaliation.

On the rooftop, I easily spot the direction the queen and prince's entourage went. It's easy to see the berth the soldiers make around the two royals as they talk with store owners, making small purchases along the way. An ostentation of ladies in all manner of colors and wide skirts make their way after them, pretending to look in shops and venders, but mostly fanning themselves or throwing furtive glances toward the prince.

I almost scoff at their infatuations before I realize what I am doing is much the same, just in a less flashy way. Warmth flushes my cheeks.

I follow, watching the stuffiness at which the queen and prince interact with shop owners. They bow before the royals, doffing caps and smiling broadly. The two have practiced smiles on their faces and interact with grace, but they never clasp hands with the folk, nor do they touch unless receiving a gift or looking over products. It's strange to watch when most people I know give hugs as greeting.

When they emerge on the other side of the market square, the prince actually seems to breathe a sigh, his shoulders drooping minutely. I only saw because... well, phooey, because I was watching him closely. It's possible I'm worse than the noblewoman who flocked after him in the square... I'm officially a stalker.

At the thought, I almost turn back, but a movement from the queen draws my eye. She points down a dark alleyway, and two guards branch off to search it before they allow her to go down. During that time, I hop over the few roofs to be directly above the alley so I can see what caught her attention.

A muffled meow rises from below. I peek over and color me surprised. The queen plunks her hands down a sewer drain, drawing out a small cat, the poor thing half drowned in the murky water and refuse.

One guard provides his cloak for use as a towel, as if used to such side trails for his monarch.

The prince gently scratches the cat on the top of the head. When it doesn't respond, he takes it from his mother and blows into its nose and mouth, vigorously stimulating around its chest and lungs.

I almost gag, but I will also never be able to look at the prince the same ever again. Beneath that stoicism... he's a sweetheart.

The cat coughs weakly, a weak and slightly wet meow escaping its lips, and the queen laughs, her shoulders loosening and her hands gesturing. The prince chuckles at something she says, spitting the foul taste into the alley. He wraps another cloak around the cat, then hands it gently to his mother with a mocking bow.

She takes the cat and pulls her shoulders back, the regal queen and stoic prince returning as they emerge from the alley back into the public eye with a new pet in tow

I'm left with a hanging jaw and a very confusing look into the lives of royals.

~~~

As soon as I exit Upper, a feeling about makes my breath catch in my chest. A wall catches me as I stumble over and adrenaline tingles through my hands. I have a deep impression in my soul that says I need to be home.

A growing dread is rising, but I try to tamp it down with thoughts of Ran. She was going to check in with them before going hunting, so I have no doubt she would’ve picked up on anything strange. She would've let me know if anything was wrong.

But the growing pit rumbles like a pool of acid in my stomach. I throw my red cloak over my head and hasten home. I practically run through the back streets, startling a couple of beggars.

I’m sure the worry is unfounded, but will feel better once I lay eyes on my home.

Once I hit the shadows of the forest, I call out to Ran. She’s snoozing contentedly beside a brook on the other side of the massive forest. With a full belly she could sleep for days, the lazy pants. The thought drives a small smile to my face.

What’s wrong? I feel her mentally perk up.

It’s just a feeling, Ran. I doubt there’s anything wrong, but could you start to head back this direction... just in case?

Rider, your feelings are hardly ever wrong. I’m on my way. Her words help ease my pounding heart.

Thanks, beauty. Just to be taken seriously helps. She knows me, and she knows I’m not for unfounded fears. But this... it’s different.

I slow as I get to my home. The place is dark. No laughter from the twins, no pots clinking from Momma’s cooking. The herbs are slightly wilted, as if Jack hasn’t watered them today.

With growing trepidation, I stop at the edge of my clearing. I turn at the rustling of leaves.

Behind me stands a creature. I would call it a man, but for the beaklike nose and the long, clawlike fingers. A black cape rustles along its back like feathers... or scales.

It sniffs. Black, beady eyes look at me with a sneer as the pointed teeth show with a parting of its lips. “Here at last, my young prey.”

I draw my swords. “What have you done with my family?”

“Tsk tsk. Can have none of that.” It lifts a hand and my swords are pulled out of my grip to land in the forest loam.

I gasp as my swords glint golden in the full view of the evening sun, far from my reach. The creature who has yet to make a step since I saw it.

Aria, RUN! Ran screams into my mind. The deep, animalistic fear races from her being to my own.

But this thing has my family. As foolhardy as it may be, I run. At the thing. The grin widens, as if taunting me further. I slip a knife into my hand.

Before I get to the thing, I slide. And sure enough, a tree limb misses my head by inches. I slip the knife into my right hand and draw my blade along its leg. What I don’t expect is the black as night blood that pours out, nor the way his hand reaches out and roots burst from the ground to capture my legs and arms. One slimy and grainy root takes its time growing over my throat and pinning my head to the ground.

I’m frozen. Nothing but my eyes can move as I watch the creature swipe a hand over the gash I made in the leg as if it’s a minor inconvenience. He pulls the hand away and only pale skin is where the cut was.

Shock courses through my system; a numbing sensation that draws away from the fear curdling in my gut.

Stupid, foolhardy, crazy human. Why can't you just listen to reason and do as you're told? You better not die on me before I get there.

As if coming from a distant memory, I see the creature in the library who spoke of the Timber Wolf. Ran, stay away. It’s you they want.

Never, sister.

Ran, I need you to go for Sir Hans. If anyone can help, it’s him. This creature would have killed me by now if it so wanted. Go for Hans.

I feel the battle in her soul. Raging is the beast who wants to tear this creature limb from limb, but the knowledge it may do no good tries to slip itself to the forefront. Even I know she likely couldn't beat this creature without help... not if they're prepared for her.

I send her a bundle of all my love and joy and pride. I need you to do this for me, beauty. If I don’t survive, find my family. Protect them. Promise me this.

She sinks in despair, but turns her paws to the city and deeper within to Sir Hans’ home. Stay alive. I’m coming back for you.

Something hard hits my head, sending pain flaring through me for a split second, and I know no more.