The beauty of the clearing was a shock after the cave—an Idyllic place after the horrors of this pass.

But I find my mind wandering back to the cave. It pulled our memories, bringing them to life before our eyes. If I go back, could I see them again?

It is a greedy thought to indulge when we are this close to the end. But I do not know if I can help myself from visiting that remembering place once more.

~<>~<>~

Blair gasped as they broke through the trees. A small clearing straight out of a fairy tale stretchered out before them.

The grass rippled as a gentle breeze swept past. She followed its tack through the clearing, and it was almost as if it were trying to show the place off.

It swept over to a crystal clear stream burbling through the center of the clearing, then past it to the handful of trees that provided shade for a set of stone chairs and a table. It kept going, circling a gentle hill covered in purple and green flowers, a tiny valley, and a small circle of stones before settling down.

“Yeah,” Alder said. “It never gets old. And it stays like this year-round.”

Blair stepped onto the grass and gasped as her foot sunk in slightly.

She took another step just as springy as the first. The ground didn't give enough to throw off her balance, but it was far more than normal.

Alder took a few steps in, let out a deep sigh, dropped his pack, then collapsed into the grass.

Blair laughed and joined him, dropping her pack to sprawl out on the almost pillowy ground.

She sighed, letting herself relax for the first time since they got to the pass.

She wasn't sure if she had really believed Alder when he said there was a completely safe region. But now that they were here, she could feel something different.

Blair had a strong sense of smell, even for a werewolf, but her sense for magic was below average at best. Even so, she could feel something—an inexplicable sense of safety and comfort.

Blair breathed in the smells around her, relaxing further.

Even the dirt felt clean and comforting to her senses. At that moment, Blair finally let some of her worries go. She didn’t know if it was the influence of Alder’s presence, something about this region, or a mixture of the two.

But for a few wonderful minutes, Blair rested. No plans for the future, no Bond growing out of her control, no tests.

It was just her, the grass on her back, and the wind on his skin.

The moment ended as Alder climbed to his feet, swearing softly under his breath.

He hauled his pack up and carried it to the stone table, his motions stiff and awkward.

Blair climbed to her feet as a new, unfamiliar worry sunk its teeth in.

Fear for someone’s physical health.

It was her job to look out for her Pack's physical and mental health. But the physical side of that was almost always kept to fights.

She needed to make sure Laurel or Simon didn’t catch a silver bullet in the side or something similar. But that was contained. Once a fight was over, Blair didn’t have to think about the hits her Pack took since they would heal from almost anything.

But with Alder, she could smell his pain. It hung around him like a cloud, one that had grown worse as the day went on.

It was…alien, seeing his injuries linger. Blair knew, on an intellectual level, that humans healed slowly. But she had barely spent time around humans for much of life, and it had never sunk in.

She was no healer, and this wasn't a problem she could punch.

She was…helpless.

Blair shook the thought away and snatched her pack. Marching over to the table she claimed the seat across from Alder and started pulling food from her pack. She decided to grab a few travel board games while she was at it.

Alder looked over the games as she continued to pull out food. He tapped the small chessboard before digging into his own pack. She quickly set up the board while refusing to look at the disorganized mess that was his pack.

“You really brought board games?” Alder asked around a sandwich.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“But you had just gotten into town. And you only had a day to pack.”

“Yeah.”

“…So you just had all this stuff ready to go in the off chance you needed it?”

“Yeah.”

Alder snorted. “Christ Blair, you're built different.”

She eyed him. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“A compliment since I’m befitting from your slightly unhinged level of preparedness.”

Blair raised a finger. “It's not unhinged if it turns out useful.”

“Fair enough.” He reached into his bag and grabbed a ziplock filled with granola bars.

Blair’s nose wrinkled before he even opened the bag. “Those are expired.”

Alder raised a finger as he unwrapped a bar. “True! But these are merely stale as apposed to spoiled.”

“I don’t see why that matter-“ Blair started, only to cut off with a wince as he took a bite.

“Why?”

He shrugged and took another bite. “I paid for these. So I really don’t want ‘em to go to waste. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn't be taking this gamble with something like milk that could get me sick. But granola bars?” he took a third bite. “I figure, why not?”

Blair reached into her bag and threw the man her own zip-lock of trail bars. “Are you sure you can’t get sick from expired granola?”

He shrugged. “Pretty sure?” Thankfully, he switched to the new bag of bars. Alder smiled and leaned back in his seat.

“You know I’ve never been the best at preparing. When I was, oh, twelve or thirteen, I went on a camping trip with Ben.” His smile grew wistful. “You see, Ben is a city boy from the fifties. He doesn’t know squat about camping. And I didn’t either. So we hiked out into the woods a few miles behind the graveyard.”

He grabbed another bar before continuing.

“Of course, since we both had no clue what we were doing, we panicked when it started raining. When Ben started panicking, I asked him, ‘what do you have to worry about? Your dead!’ He turned to me, his face completely serious for once.”

Alder chuckled.

“Told me, ‘I might be dead, but Rogers will kill me again if I bring you back with hypothermia.’ So we started digging through my bag, trying to see if anything could help us. Being the little idiot that I was, I had packed a sleeping bag, a tent with no rain fly, a pack of playing cards, a small sack of candy, and a flashlight.”

Blair laughed.

“I admit, not my finest moment. Well, we dug and dug, and just before we admitted defeat and headed back in shame, we found a package at the bottom of my pack with a letter taped to it.” Alder sat up and squared his shoulders. “Ben reached for it like he expected a boobytrap, then read the letter.”

Alder’s voice shifted to a Brooklyn accent. And while Blair was hardly an expert, she didn’t think it was half bad.

“I saw what you packed, Alder. And, Ben, I know you didn’t double-check his pack like I told you. So here’s the rest of what you’ll need. Plan better next time.”

Blair smiled. “He put it at the bottom so that the two of you would sweat a little before you saw it.”

Alder nodded. That wistful smile back in place. “Ben was equal parts relieved and embarrassed, but our little adventure was saved. And that’s Rogers for you. He could have made me double-check my pack ahead of time. But…”

“But then the lesson wouldn’t have sunk in.”

He nodded. “It wouldn’t have sunk in. There are a lot of times like that, looking back. And I can’t help but be impressed by the tree-hugger. He always managed to find that perfect balance. Getting something through my thick skull without ruining whatever I had going on.”

Blair draped her arms over her chair as she thought on Alder's story.

Her mother had not found that balance. But she had certainly gotten her lessons to stick.

“The yoke falls to you,” Alder said with a yawn. “Story for a story. Seems only fair to me.”

Blair considered for a minute. A story… while not quite as positive as Alder’s, she thought she had a match.

“My father shared that knack. Always managed to get something to stick without letting me be hurt. At least, whenever he could. But he had to be creative about it. He’s mute.”

“How?” Alder blushed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound insensitive. I-“

Blair shrugged. “It’s fine. We’re known for healing from almost anything. I get why you’d be surprised. Silver knife in the throat. It was a miracle he survived at all.” Blair frowned. That scar was just a white line after so many years, but the trauma remained.

When she had asked about the injury as a child…that had been one of the first times she could remember seeing pure hate on her mother's face. The woman’s hands had shook as she retold the story as if she were looking for a throat to grasp.

“He healed in time, but his voice box never did. I’m good with languages, but I had a lot of trouble picking up signs as a kid. So my father had to get creative to get those lessons across.”

Blair shifted in her seat, idly grabbing for another snack.

“We also went camping a few miles from home. I was…ten, maybe eleven. Winter had come early and angry. Feet of snow piled higher than the doors. So, my father and I, we went camping. The cold wasn’t a problem, but my father didn’t want to just camp. He wanted to teach me how to hunt in the cold.”

Blair smiled at the memory.

“I was a spitfire when I was little, running circles around my father while carrying a pack nearly the size of the one I have now. He’d tried to get me to take a smaller one, but his was big, so I wouldn't settle for anything less.”

Alder grinned. “I would have paid to see little Blair running around.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, the two of us hiked out into the woods, past where any roads or trails lead. After we set up camp, we shifted forms and went hunting. We had everything we needed to set up camp, of course, since we had planned ahead.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?”

“The snow was so deep I had to follow in the trail my father left, though that didn't stop me from trying to run past him a few times.”

The breeze picked up, dancing over the table and threatening to steal some of the bags away.

Alder snatched them before they could be carried off.

Blair went on. “It took two hours, but we found our prey. A great elk, nearly seven feet at the shoulder with a rack that must have added another two feet of height. Looking back, it was probably a magical creature, given its size, but I didn't think about that at the time. I was too busy rushing after the elk, ignoring my father's warning growl.”

Blair’s smile turned sad. “It bolted, but even through the snow, it wasn't fast enough to avoid me all together. I tore into its leg, but it kicked me off and vanished into the trees. My father could have caught up to it in an instant, but he didn't. He stood over me instead. I could tell he was angry, but I didn't understand why at the time.”

She sighed.

“Werewolves aren’t wolves, but we’re not really humans either. To a wolf chasing down an elk and nipping at its heels. Driving it to exhaustion before moving in for the kill... it's natural. And it can be to werewolves as well.

Ancient humans were the same way, running their prey to exhaustion or death. But now that you have better methods? It's barbaric to let the creature suffer more than needed. You go for the head or the heart when you can. Clean kills.”

Blair played with the queen piece, absently rolling it between her fingers.

“Werewolves have those methods. We can go for the throat or the back of the neck kill them before they even have a chance to feel pain. But in my excitement at finally finding the prey, I ignored that. I made it suffer.

We tracked it through the forest, following the trail of blood and disturbed snow. And when we finally found it again, it was barely managing to limp along. My father gave me a look as the elk collapsed. No snarling, just that one look as he walked over to the animal. I understood then, seeing the elk struggling to breathe, why he hadn't chased it down immediately.”

“It wouldn't have sunk in,” Alder said, his voice solemn.

She nodded. “If I hadn’t seen the consequences, I would have done it again.” Blair sighed.

“We put it down, and my father never mentioned it again. He never needed to. He always could tell when a point got across.”

Alder sat up and reached to the chessboard, pushing his pawn forward. “Your dad sounds interesting.”

Blair chuckled. “He’d like you. He enjoys bad jokes.”

“Hey! My humor is fantastic!”

Blair set her queen back down. “You know how to play chess?” she confirmed. Alder sneered at her.

“I’m practically a grandmaster! Albeit one who’s lost more of his games than he’s won.”

Blair smiled. “Let's see what you're made of.”