Little Ant clung to Nuncio’s arm in the backseat while Sal drove like a demon dragging them all to hell. His insane laughter could be heard over the roaring engine while he soared down the road.

“Make him stop! Please make him stop!” Little Ant screamed.

Nuncio held on to the car door and prayed to whatever higher power would listen that he would make it out of this alive. It was weird not feeling safe when a literal god was acting as your chauffeur.

“Sal! Maybe I should drive!” Nuncio yelled.

Sal’s laughter did not inspire confidence.

“Why?! This is awesome!”

The only one of the passengers… or hostages who seemed to share the sentiment was Old Badger who drove shotgun and was just looking at the passing scenery contently. Her grey hair blew in the wind, and she had the smile of a woman in love.

“Let him have his fun.” Old Badger said.

Nuncio and Little Ant cling to each other like rocks in a storm. Mercifully they had to stop for the night and Nuncio stumbled out of the car with Little Ant, grateful to be alive. Standing still had never felt so sweet. Then he turned to glare at Sal who was helping Old Badger out of the car.

“I’m never getting in a car with you again!”

Sal just flashed that boyish smirk of someone who didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

“Not with that attitude you won’t.”

Nuncio chewed his lip furiously. He wanted to punch him. He wanted to kiss him. But he didn’t do either and just cursed under his breath.

Money was tight which meant that they couldn’t afford to stay in inns… which would have drawn too much attention anyway but luckily goblins carried their homes on their backs. Once Little Ant had gotten over the shakes, she started setting up the tents while Sal and Old Badger lit the fire. Nuncio sat on the hood of the car and felt a midge useless. He couldn’t even remember when he had gone camping the last time. Not since grandpa had died.

Once their resting place for the night had been set up, Old Badger looked at Sal and Little Ant.

“My friend, Little Ant, could you be so kind and hunt us some food?” Old Badger said.

“Of course.” Little Ant said.

Old Badger and Sal kept their eyes locked a bit longer and you could feel them have a conversation with a single look. Only people who had known each other intimately for years could do that. Then Sal nodded and followed Little Ant into the woods. Nuncio watched them go and tried to think of something to say.

“I… uh… guess I’ll make sure the fire doesn’t go out.” Nuncio said.

“That can wait. First we need to have a look at your wounds.”

“My…?”

Nuncio bit his lip when he realized what Old Badger meant. He stepped away from her and put up his hands.

“No.”

“Nuncio.” Old Badger said and looked him in the eyes.

It was… odd. Her gaze had something similar to Pietro’s glare. When you locked eyes with either of them, it was impossible to look away, but Old Badger’s power wasn’t some malign force that bound others to its will. It was warm and comforting like a nice bath that washed away shame.

Nuncio’s hands fell to his sides.

“Come.” Old Badger said.

She took his hand and Nuncio let himself be led into the grandmother goblin’s tent. Despite being just cloth and leather that could be set up anywhere, it felt like a home with history.

“Could you take off your shirt, please?” Old Badger said.

Nuncio hesitated for a moment but one look in Old Badger’s warm, brown eyes made him remove his tie and drop his overcoat. When he took off his dinner jacket, he realized how tattered his suit had gotten. Leather shoes weren’t built for adventure. Father would be so angry with him for…

Nuncio bit his lip.

Not like it mattered now.

He sighed and took off his undershirt revealing the patchwork of vampire’s kisses that had been left in places that could be covered with clothes. They would fade with time but never disappear completely and although some of them were years old they still ached when the sun went down.

For a moment he expected Old Badger to look at him with fear and revulsion, but he saw only empathy and kindness.

“I am so sorry, Nuncio.” Old Badger said and then noticed the fresh bite on his shoulder: “We need to clean that. I might be able to help with the scars too.”

Nuncio could only nod before sitting down so Old Badger could reach all the old bites. He flinched with pain when Old Badger washed the fresh scab with a warm cloth but when she rubbed an ointment on it, the pain began to fade. When she administered it on the old scars, it was a like a splinter he hadn’t known had been there was pulled out and pain he had gotten used to was gone.

“Are you a sorcerer?” Nuncio asked.

“If you mean, have I studied in Scholomance or Domdaniel, the answer is no. But I have dabbled, and I was the student of my tribe’s healer. The Sharp Paw Tribe knows it herbs.”

Nuncio nodded before biting his lip.

“… will I turn into a vampire?”

“Not from a bite. You need the blood too.” Old Badger said while spreading the ointment: “You’re a brave man, Nuncio. Bearing with this for so long.”

Nuncio hugged his knees while his eyes started stinging from hot tears.

“… no. I’m not. I’m a coward.”

“My eyes might be going but I can see that is a lie.” Old Badger said.

Tears bitter as acid ran down Nuncio’s cheeks but they were just two drops of salt. He had long since taught himself not to cry in front of others.

“… if I had fought harder… if I hadn’t been so weak…”

“That’s what men like your father want you to think. People who worship the Screaming. That you’re small and helpless and deserve what they do to you.” Old Badger said and touched Nuncio’s chin softly so he would look her in the eyes: “You’re braver and stronger than you realize. You didn’t break in all this time. You saved my prince. You did the right thing even when you were scared.”

Nuncio looked at his hands. Hands that held a gun and pulled the trigger.

“… I killed someone… I didn’t want to but… I did.”

“Never trust a man who smiles when he kills.” Old Badger said and then…

… she hugged his back.

The years had worn the grandmother goblin down to the bone, but you could still feel the fearsome power of someone who kept up the pace with a god in her youth. Who still did. When she held him, Nuncio had never felt warmer or safer.

“You’ve pushed it back for so long, Nuncio, but it’s okay now. Let it out. Let it all out.”

There was a moment of silence and then Nuncio screamed when the floodgates broke down and the tears came crashing out. He had held back so long they’d almost drowned him. Blinding tears and snot ran down his face when he trembled in the old goblin’s arms who at that moment felt strong enough to push over mountains.

“There, there. It’s over now. We won’t let him hurt you ever again. We will get your family out and make sure he never hurts anyone ever again.” Old Badger said softly while he sobbed against her chest.

He cried until he felt like a cloth that had been squeezed dry. He wasn’t sure how long he had wept in her arms but after it was over, it was like something vile had been lodged free from his heart and flushed out.

“How are you feeling?” Old Badger asked when she finally stepped back.

Nuncio blew his nose and rubbed his eyes.

“… cleaner.”

“That is good. I wish I had fresh clothes for you, but we have to make do for now.” Old Badger said and lit her pipe.

She blew out a ring of sweet-smelling smoke with obvious pleasure before offering the pipe to Nuncio.

“Wanna try?”

Nuncio shook his head.

“Thanks, but I don’t smoke.”

“You and my prince both. What is the youth coming to?”

Her prince? Nuncio smiled and started buttoning his shirt.

“How do you and Sal… I mean… His Savage Highness know each other?”

“Curious, are we?” Old Badger said and looked at the ceiling of her tent while smoking: “When I was a girl, a princess of the Cat Clan tormented my tribe. We had to pay her tribute, or she would… take one of us. Finally, I grew tired of it and left to look for help.”

“You went to the Fox Clan for help?”

When it came to the skin-changers few would have called the Fox Clan evil, but they did have a reputation for being temperamental and unpredictable tricksters. Hardly anyone’s idea of a hero.

“No. I went looking for the Wolf Clan. Their prince, His Dreadful Highness, had made a name for himself as a hero. Defender of the weak. Instead… I ran into the Fox Clan and their prince took a liking to me. The rest, as you say, is history. After my tribe was saved, we adventured together for years.”

“That sounds like him.” Nuncio said.

There was the crack of a breaking branch when Sal and Little Ant returned with two dead rabbits and some mushrooms.

“You have raised a good hunter.” Sal said.

“Rabbits are nothing.” Little Ant said with poorly disguised pride.

Little Ant started preparing the rabbits while Sal looked at Nuncio.

“How are you feeling?” Sal asked.

For the first time what felt like years, it didn’t hurt to smile.

“Better.” Nuncio said.

“Good. That is good.” Sal said.

The dinner was a rabbit-mushroom stew that Sal had spilled some brandy into for flavor. Even food tasted better when the fear he had lived with for years wasn’t hanging over him.

“We’re going to save the viscount, right?” Little Ant said while they ate.

“You’re goddamn right we are. Christmas bonuses are just around the corner and some vampire is not cheating me out of it.” Sal said before staring at his food: “Also… Cassio is my friend. I am not leaving him at the mercies of some Screaming Beast.”

“I can break the control the vampire has over the viscount, but it won’t be easy under the nose of a master vampire.” Old Badger said.

“So, we need a distraction. Guess that will be on me.” Nuncio said quietly.

Sal, Old Badger and Little Ant looked at him.

“You sure?” Sal said.

Nuncio gave a determined nod.

“Even if this isn’t my fault, I have a duty to help.” Nuncio said and grinned: “I can’t embarrass myself in the company of heroes.”