11th of Fructidor, 1535

Fawksden, Southern Morrigan

Brynn managed to unpack all of her clothing and stuff it all into both a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. Both pieces of furniture were filled to bursting. She only had one crate left; inside were beakers, flasks, test tubes, mortars and pestles, tinctures and syringes, academic textbooks, and a set of translucent bottles containing different liquids labeled with lengthy technical names. Tucked in one corner of the trunk were three bags filled with different seeds.

Constantly buying medicines would be exceedingly costly, so Brynn figured she could grow her own plants, extract the needed chemicals, and purify them herself. It was a project she wanted to try once she graduated, but now she’d have to expedite her idea. She strode outside with the seeds in hand and started surveying the area. The white sage needed to go. It had very minor medical applications, but she remembered how crucial it was during the exorcism. She picked as much as she could and left the large pile of herbs to dry out on the back porch.

With ample space available, Brynn started planting. It was demanding labor; her dress was immediately stained by the broken blades of grass and the moist dirt. “How did the gardeners make this look so easy?”

A noise and then some movement caught Brynn’s attention. She acquired a small assistant digger, Bashaz. The little silver fox mimicked Brynn’s gardening and was now staring up at her with a look of pleased curiosity.

“Oh? Are you a wild fox? Please don’t bite me,” Brynn said as she slowly moved her hand towards the little fox’s head.

The silver fox met her halfway and rubbed her head against Brynn’s hand. Bashaz then jumped into Brynn’s lap and started squirming about making odd noises. Brynn was taken aback, but it at least seemed more playful than angry. She felt bad that she didn’t have a treat for her little helper—suddenly she was struck by a flash of brilliance. Brynn took out a tooth from her satchel; a blue aura surrounded the tooth before bursting onto the ground and taking the shape of her dutiful mastiff, Guthrie. The two animals immediately locked eyes and then started chasing each other across the backyard. Moira jumped over to the two speeding animals as they rounded the corner of the house.

“Oh, morning Moira,” Brynn greeted.

“Guten Morgen, Frau Massengale. What are you doing?”

“I’m planting some poppy seeds, some peppermint, and some cannabis; so I can eventually extract morphine, menthol, and cannabidiol respectively.”

“You are a chemist as well?” Moira asked.

“Well, I’m still teaching myself chemistry. It just seemed significantly cheaper than buying distilled medication at a pharmacy.”

Moira remarked, “Clever. My father was fond of menthol cigarettes, what else can one do with menthol?”

“It’s a strong decongestant when not used in cigarettes,”

“A what?” Moira asked.

“It’s good for opening the nose and breathing passages. Handy for colds and allergies,” Brynn simplified.

“Ah, I understand. What about from the cannabis?”

“I wanted to see if I could make pain reliever medication that uses a mixture of morphine and cannabidiol, instead of just morphine.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, morphine can be quite…addictive if used frequently at high enough doses.”

Brynn saw the look of concern grow on Moira’s face. “Oh! But I assure you, that what I gave you yesterday was a modest amount, nothing to be worried about. I guess you need more, that is why you came by, right?”

“Yes, my arm is still sore. It’s distracting me from building Oleander’s new weapon.”

“Ooo, whatcha building?”

Moira pulled out a blueprint depicting two gauntlets with claws attached to the knuckles. “See here. The claws are on a rail attached to the back of the gauntlet and they can be locked in place. That way Herr Swine can punch with reinforced knuckles or tear things apart with his claws.”

“Wow, that’s actually terrifying.”

“Thank you, Frau Massengale. My work is my pride.”

“Working on anything else?” Brynn asked.

Moira looks around before going up to Brynn and whispering to her, “I have been working on a secret project. The only problem is that I am lost.”

“What do you mean?”

Moira pulled out the spare flare gun she received from Ivy. She explained to Brynn what the gun did.

“What I am having trouble understanding is what causes the fireball in the first place. The gun powder in the shell alone cannot do that.”

“Can I see inside?”

Moira took out a pocket knife and carefully cut open the shell’s paper wrapping. Brynn knew nothing about firearms or their bullets, but thankfully Moira was able to quickly identify what part of the shell's interior made no sense to her. It was a very small wad filled with white powder. The only problem was that there was an abundance of white powders in chemistry.

“Umm, I have some chemistry textbooks I can look through. Hopefully, I can find an answer for you, maybe I can even synthesize the chemical for you.”

“I would appreciate that, Frau Massengale. I have a feeling Herr Swine will enjoy bullets that burst into flames.”

“...do you…do you really need something like that?”

“Certainly. I gained a newfound respect for this flare as a weapon.”

Brynn got up and wiped all the dirt off her dress. She ushered Moira inside to get another shot of morphine. After a painful prick and quick numbing of pain, something crashed in the next room over.

“Herr Swine? Lizard? Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine!” Oleander called out from the storage room. “I know I had it in here somewhere—Aha!”

Oleander walked into Brynn’s room wielding a rusted rifle with a wooden stock that was eaten through by termites.

Moira grimaced. “I hope you do not intend to go into public with that gun?”

“Nah. This ol’ girl is at the end of her rope. It was the first rifle I used when I started hunting back when I was twelve.”

"Does it work?” Moira asked.

Brynn followed with another question, “Just how long have you had it?”

“About eighteen years at this point.”

Brynn whispered to Moira, “That’s as old as I am.”

Moira whispered back, “And I’m only one year older.”

“But…uh…what are you going to do with it?” Brynn asked.

“I’m taking you hunting. I saw a large buck out in the woods, if we’re lucky, he might still be nearby.”

“Say what?” Brynn blurted out.

“Look lass, if you can shoot this rifle and get a kill, you can shoot just about anything Moira can build.”

“I’ve never even touched a gun before,” Brynn remarked.

“If that is the case, have her practice on the dummy.”

Oleander nodded and led the two outside. After Oleander and Moira gave Brynn the basics of rifle safety, loading, and shooting, they let Brynn get in several practice shots. The first nearly knocked Brynn off her feet; she wasn’t expecting the gun’s kickback. After another shot, Brynn swapped hands so she could pull the trigger with her left hand.

“I don’t want to injure my scalpel hand,” Brynn explained as she shot the dummy’s abdomen.

It didn’t take long for Brynn’s shoulders to get sore, but she eventually got the hang of shooting while looking through the gun’s iron sight.

“How do you feel?” Oleander asked.

“Not very confident, but we still got that deer to hunt, right?” Brynn tried to feign some enthusiasm.

“Exactly, c’mon lass,” Oleander said as he led the way.

“Do not worry Frau Massengale, killing something is remarkably straightforward,” Moira called out to reassure the sheltered rich girl.

The two trekked into the Patchwork Woods. Though Brynn wasn’t a botanist, she tried to take stock of all the trees she passed by. She knew the bark from certain trees, like white willow, could be used to make medicine. She quickly lost track of how many different varieties of trees there were, there would be different clusterings of foliage all over the place.

After pushing through some thick bushes, they discovered a moderately sized lake. Fish sounded really good to Brynn, all she had the night before was jerky that Oleander had preserved, which was fine—but it certainly wasn’t a meal. They stopped for a moment while Oleander looked for tracks. Brynn surveyed the shore and noticed several small crabs scuttling about. It reminded her of a holiday she and her family took to Sterling years ago; the smell of fried blue crab came back to her nose. One of them scuttled up onto her boot, and without thinking, she kicked it out onto the lake. It landed in the water and gently disturbed the serenity of the lake. Suddenly the top half of a head and pair of eyes peered out from the water for a brief moment. Brynn jumped back.

“Aye, let’s keep moving,” Oleander said, “I picked up some track—you alright?”

Brynn shook off her nervous jittering, “Uh-uh-yeah, sorry, let’s get going.”

Just as the two were about to leave the lake behind, Brynn looked out but she couldn’t see anything out on the lake.

“Mr. Swine, is there anything that lives in the lake?”

“Crabs, catfish, trout, maybe a couple of different frogs. Why? You wanna go fishing?”

“I swear I saw something else in there, it like popped its head out. It looked kind of scary.”

"The only dangerous thing in that lake was an alligator. I had him turned into a nice pair of boots, and a nice meal.”

“What does an alligator taste like?”

“It’s like chewy, greasy chicken.”

Brynn made a brief disgusted noise before steering the conversation back, “Well it didn’t look like that, it kind of looked like the top of a person’s head.”

Oleander stopped. He turned and looked down at the trainee physician with a serious, almost somber look. “Did it have black soulless eyes, gray skin, yellow fins with red cartilage?”

“N-no.”

“Then don’t worry about it.” Oleander turned his focus back to the trail; his eyes were glued to a series of hooved tracks. He led Brynn through the foliage and into a clearing. On the other side of the clearing, a large buck stood above a strategic pile of berries and nuts.

“That should keep him occupied for a little bit,” Oleander whispered.

“He looks…kind of big…shouldn’t I have started off with pheasants or quails? What if this thing charges at us. It’s got massive antlers.” Brynn noted the fourteen points across the beast’s antlers.

“One or two birds aren’t going to feed the four of us for very long. That buck will.”

Oleander instructed Brynn to get into a kneeled shooting position as it gave her more stability. He told her to account for the wind and how to breathe while taking a shot. He also importantly stressed, “He doesn’t know we’re here, so you can take as long as you want.”

“Do I—Do I aim for the head?”

“No. Behind its front set of legs, the lower part of the torso is where you want to aim. That’s where its lungs and heart are.”

Brynn reluctantly nodded. She took two minutes to focus down the rifle’s iron sights. Every time she lined up a perfect shot, the buck would move slightly or take a step forward or backward.

“It-it won’t stop moving.”

“I have a way to make him stop moving for a second. Tell me when you feel confident. I’ll make my move, but you better be ready.”

After relining her shot, Brynn whispered to Oleander. The monster hunter cupped his hands in front of his mouth and produced a sharp-sounding bird call. The deer turned its head and froze in place for a split second. Brynn took the shot. It went directly into the deer’s side. The buck jumped up and started kicking its legs before touching back on the ground and disappearing into the forest.

“C’mon! You got it good!” Oleander charged across the clearing with Brynn trying her best to follow along. They chased the sounds of rustling leaves and snapped twigs. Eventually, they found the buck lying on the ground, wheezing heavily.

“Lung shot, not bad for your first hunt,” Oleander said.

Brynn was trying to hold back tears as she saw the animal struggling to stay alive.

“You want to finish him off or should I—”

Brynn immediately threw the rifle at Oleander and turned away. One last shot put the buck out of its misery.

“Fantastic. A bit more practice and you’ll be a crack shot in on time.”

“I don’t want to be,” Brynn remarked, “I don’t want to shoot anything.”

“Look, I don’t—” Oleander tempered his words as he saw Brynn was shaking, visibly uncomfortable, and on the verge of tears.

“I figured since you could summon ghosts, you would be used to things being dead. This was your first killing.”

Brynn shook her head. She snorted and wiped her face with her sleeve. “I don’t like this,” she mumbled.

Oleander sighed. He thought his next words out carefully. “I know you signed up to be our physician, and I appreciate that immensely. You said you have no combat experience, then I will help you get that experience.”

“—But, I don’t want to fight—”

“—And ideally, you won’t. If I’m not here, I want to know that you can go out and feed yourself. If I’m not here, or Moira isn’t here, or Cormag isn’t here, I want to know that you can protect yourself. I’m not asking you to be on the frontlines with us, nor am I expecting you to. It’s not easy to take a life, I understand it goes against the physician’s creed or whatever it’s called. But you need to defend yourself—I know you have your blessing, but having extra tools at your disposal is important. Understand?”

Brynn nodded. Oleander patted her on the shoulder. “At least you’re not a complete mess like Caroline was when I first took her and James hunting.”

“Who?”

“Red Wolves members. They were a little younger than you when they first joined.”

“Really, what happened?”

“Caroline wailed the entire time that I carried the deer we hunted, from the Patchwork Woods to Blackburn Hollow.”

“Oh wow, she doesn’t sound much like a hunter.”

“She wasn’t, she was our cook.”

“Really? I didn’t think hunting companies hired cooks.”

“Caroline was our cook, James was our tailor, and Dalton was our physician. They had no combat experience, but we taught them how to protect themselves just in case something followed us home.”

Brynn felt mildly reassured by the story, and by the earnestness of his words. She watched as Oleander grabbed the deer by its hind leg and with one arm, drag it across the forest. On the walk back, she summoned Guthrie to help them find the quickest way back to Fawksden. Once at home, the monster hunter began to field dress the buck. Brynn had done some dissections on small creatures like rats and frogs, and had even been able to witness an autopsy thanks to getting in good graces with the Academy’s physician—but the speed at which Oleander was able to remove the deer’s skin and internal organs both intrigued and terrified her.

“Cormag! Moira!” Oleander called out.

“What’chu’want?” Cormag rudely asked.”

“If I give you the heart, will you stop giving me shit about the exorcism?”

“Only if you bring me along for the next one,” Cormag replied.

“Deal.” Oleander lobbed the blood-filled organ at Cormag’s hands.

“Ah, that’s the good stuff right here,” Cormag remarked as he tore into the morsel.

Moira scuttled over.

“Alright, we’ve got the liver and the kidneys left, which do you want?”

Moira snagged the liver and started taking bites out of it.

“Uhm, Moira, don’t you want to cook that?”

“I don’t enjoy most cooked food.”

“Oh-oh, okay then,” Brynn said as she watched the spiderkin leave a small trail of blood behind.

“Brynn, do you know how to cook?”

“No, not really. The house staff always cooked for us.”

Oleander sighed, he’d have to settle for making deer jerky again. As he started cutting off the deer’s flesh, the postman strode up. He looked around nervously for Cormag but was put at ease when Brynn came up to get the mail. There was only one letter.

“You got a letter from a…Preston J. Ledbetter—”

As soon as the name left her lips, Oleander snatched the letter.

“Is it important, Mr. Oleander?”

“It’s from my uncle.”

He cut open the letter and examined the contents. It was only a single line long, “Come to my home in Oakhaven. It’s watching me.”