Here is a line for those who like to note if they are First Time Readers (FTR) or Re-Readers (RR).

A thin haze of smoke from tallow candles filled the air as I asked the tavern keeper, "Since this guide hasn't come to the village yet, do you know of anyone else I can hire?"

"Sorry, M' Lady-"

"Call me Olivia, please. I'm just a trader, and I'd rather not be mistaken for a noble, especially these days," I said, glancing uneasily over my shoulder, but no one else was in the tavern yet. Hedric knew the reality behind my elderly widow disguise, but no one else in this village did.

The burly man shrugged. "Not many will escort people over them mountains, even in summer. The journey's even more perilous in winter, and the few that might have accepted got drafted an' dragged off."

He slammed the heavy mug down on the warped counter to express his opinion of having his patrons taken away by the various feuding war parties trying to lay claim to this area. If this man hadn't also been the village's only blacksmith and tanner, he likely would have suffered a similar fate by now.

I rubbed my temple, wishing the winter storms hadn't rolled in a full moonturn before their normal season. I had envisioned a large profit after an excellent summer with the northern trading caravans, but due to the powerful storms, I wasn't able to hire a ship to sail my load of exotic fabrics and pelts down the coast. Instead, I'd been forced to sell most of it since coins were much easier to carry through the war-torn kingdom I had to cross to get home.

No trader in their right mind would try transporting goods by wagon or cart while various warlords fought for control. It had been hard enough to evade notice riding on an old mule, even while disguised as an elderly widow.

Outside the thick, cloudy window, the Navier Mountains loomed over the village. The twisted, scraggly trees looked like they hid all sorts of dangerous animals and bandits, which they did. It was why people crossing over them hired an escort or traveled in large groups.

"Is the man likely to come to town today?" I asked without much hope, my eyes not straying from the window. Several children in ragged clothing ran down the dirt road, likely heading home for their dinner.

"Haven't seen no knights lurking 'round today, so 'tis likely."

Considering the sun was mere hours from setting, that wasn't the answer I expected, especially not after being stuck in this tiny village for three days.

Seeing my perplexed expression, the man said, "Dunno where his camp is, but he never shows 'til after sunset. Prob'ly how he evaded the soldiers."

I nodded thoughtfully and headed to the stable to check on Milly. When I entered the stable, the scraggly gray mule poked her head out of her stall with a quiet snort. She playfully grabbed the bridle bit off the nail and brandished it between her teeth.

With a smile, I grabbed onto the edge sticking out and tugged it lightly. Milly tossed her head and broke my grasp. Reaching up, I began scratching behind her ears. She leaned into my hand and dropped the bit in her distraction. After a few more scratches, I hung the bit where she couldn't reach it and began brushing her.

I puttered around the stable and also brushed the two old plowhorses to reduce my room fee. They were only brought into the safety of the stable at night, so they hadn't made a mess yet. Horse musk was preferable to lounging in my cramped room or enduring the ale-enhanced male boasting that would soon take over the tavern.

"Hedric said you wanted to talk with me?"

With an effort, I managed to not jump at the stranger's voice or reach for the dagger hidden under my cloak. Silently berating myself for getting lost in the peacefulness of grooming the horses, I lowered the brush and turned to the doorway, where a man leaned against the doorpost.

It was hard to make out his features in the dim lantern light. Mid-twenties, at a guess. His wavy brown hair had been combed recently, but was already going wild. His leather clothing had seen hard use, as had the sword and dagger hanging from his belt.

"I presume you are the guide he spoke highly of?" My voice was calm, as if his unexpected appearance hadn't caught me off guard.

"Hedric speaks highly of anyone who buys his ale, but yes, I am a guide, and I know the safest paths over the mountains."

His faint accent originated from the southern kingdoms, so he wasn't a local like I had presumed. Nor did he clip his words like most villagers did. Perhaps he was a sellsword who decided that life as a guide was easier than that of a fighter.

Regardless of why he chose this career, Hedric mentioned he had been a guide through these mountains for years, so if nothing else, he'd know the safest routes.

"What are your fees to escort myself and my mule over the mountains to one of the larger towns? Hindel or Rivermere, preferably."

He continued to regard me. "Rivermere is the easiest to reach at this time of year. A hundred silver coins."

That was a month's wages for a farm laborer. My first instinct as a trader was to haggle over the price and terms, but the price was wrong. Very wrong. Any other guide would have charged double that, even for an easy summer journey, nevermind a two-week trek during the storm season through a forest so hostile even most war parties avoided it.

"That was not the price I was expecting," I finally said.

"Too many knights have been sniffing around this village, and I'd rather not be shoved into their ranks for their fights over power," he replied coolly. "I planned on crossing the mountains anyway, and I'd rather get paid for it, even if it isn't much. You happen to be the only person even considering such a trip."

His words were reasonable, but not reasonable enough.

"What's the catch?"

"We travel at night."

"What? At night? That's cr-" The distant clatter of numerous horse hooves made me break off my words as both of our heads swiveled in that direction. The stable walls blocked our view, of course, but this village only had a handful of horses.

"And that is exactly why I planned to leave this place," the man muttered, taking a few steps to the side to peer through the open window in a nearby stall.

I had no plans on meeting the owners of the raucous voices and said, "Blow out the lantern beside you. We can hide in the loft. I've already paid my 'taxes' three times this week. I'd rather not pay again."

Mirroring my words, I blew out the closest lantern and darted over to the rickety ladder. There was a quick puff behind me before darkness fell. My hands reached the straw as the ladder shifted with the man's weight.

I edged to the side, laying on my stomach to peer out the open loft. A shadow moved on the other side as the man also watched eighteen horses trot down the road. The riders branched out to check the houses for any strong, young men they or other groups might have missed during their previous visits. I wasn't sure which warlord this group belonged to, but it didn't matter. All of them were bad news.

This late at night, they undoubtedly hoped to catch the villagers off-guard and nab some new recruits. Other than hiding their friends and family, there wasn't much the villagers could do. Any attempt to fight back would be met with steel and likely result in the entire village being burned to the ground, which I had seen several times on the way here.

"Is it safe to travel at night through that forest?" I murmured.

"Yes, because I'm a werewolf." His clipped tone was the type used when revealing something unpleasant and expecting a negative reaction.

I shot a sharp glance at his shadowy silhouette. I'd never met a werewolf, but there were a few stories about people being bitten, who turned into ferocious, bloodthirsty monsters during the full moon.

The blunt revelation surprised me, but such forthcoming made sense since someone hiring him might consider it a dealbreaker and dismiss him without payment, even if they were halfway across the mountains.

"Forget about any stories you've heard," he said shortly. "This is a curse. I wasn't bitten. I control my transformation and can shift at will. Besides, even bandits rarely stir at night, hence why it's best to travel then."

I bit my lip. Why hadn't Hedric mentioned this guide was a werewolf? Down the street, several figures in skirts darted from the homes into the surrounding gardens and fields, ducking down into the shelter of the greenery to evade the unwelcome fighters and their dubious intentions. It wouldn't be long before the men reached the tavern, and this stable was the only one big enough to hold all their warhorses. Staying here wasn't an option, and there was only one guide around right now.

"All you want is a hundred silver coins?" I asked.

"And we leave as soon as you grab your bags."

"Deal."

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