Flynn spent the rest of the first day going from pack to pack, slaughtering the local population of wolves until it became increasingly difficult to find prey. His storage had long been filled with a few carcasses of dead wolves, and he had periodically switched out one corpse for another in search of wolves with less damage to their pelt.

He had also noticed a tail long ago. Periodically, a wolf or two would dash off into the woods during the fight, only to disappear. He had watched one dart away in fear, only to be shot by an arrow a few yards into the woods. For the most part, he ignored his shadow, letting them take his scraps as they pleased, but now as he sat resting at a campfire enjoying a bit of roasted wolf, he felt far less accommodating.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" A familiar voice asked from behind. Flynn didn't answer, putting his hands up as he had heard the pull of the bowstring far before the girl spoke. Instead, he did what he always did I'm a situation like this.

"I'm starting to think you don't like me very much, Selena Ravencrest." A tsk from the girl behind him confirmed his suspicions, and he put his hands down. Setting another chunk of wolf meat on the fire. "Hungry?" He asked, looking over his shoulder. Selena's eyes looked bloodshot from rage, and a snar scared her otherwise beautiful face.

"Answer the question before I decide to stop asking." Flynn let out a sigh at her words.

"An old cripple in the woods," Flynn answered truthfully, although he couldn't fathom why she'd want to know or why she had gotten so emotional about it. She scoffed, seemingly unconvinced.

"When?" Her voice was clipped as if it took all her might not to release her bow.

"About a year and a half ago." This time he lied and carefully considered his heartbeat as he talked so as not to give himself up. In truth, he had learned the sword from the man a year and some change in the future. She didn't need to know that. Her eyes faltered, a sadness filling them as the bow lowered from his chest to his legs.

Flynn saw the opening but decided against taking action; in truth, he had no idea how powerful Selena was now, and he had seen her arrows fly true more than once in his first life. Instead, he decided to tell her more.

"He found me half dead in the forest, having almost killed myself in self-loathing and sorrow. Perhaps he took pity on me, or he saw a kindred spirit; whatever the reason, he turned me from a pup lashing out at the world into someone who could do something about it." It was Flynn's turn to feel a pang of sadness as he remembered the man's death, a death caused by his actions. "One day, he disappeared right after beginning to teach me the art of dual wielding." The words seemed like an attack on Selena's spirit, and the sadness in her eyes deepened as she again pointed the bow toward Flynn's heart.

"How can I trust anything you say? You lie like a master manipulator; you fight with the style only meant for the heirs of my clan, and now you tell me my grandfather trained you?" She spat the words out as if it was a bad joke, but to Flynn, those words let puzzle pieces click into place.

Her grandfather had trained him, perhaps only a few months after Selena had crippled him. Maybe she had even died in the fight. It explained the broken and sometimes distant man. It was as if a fog had cleared, and everything made sense. She had more than likely fought her grandfather in his past life, dying by his hands, but in turn, he had become a cripple, a shadow of his former self. He had found Flynn a kindred spirit in self-loathing and forged him to become his heir, his legacy. Selena's broken voice brought Flynn back to the waking world.

"And what if you're telling the truth." Her voice's anger was long gone as tears threatened to overtake her. "That my grandfather killed my father only to disappear and train some mut in the woods?!" Flynn didn't take the jab personally since that was precisely what had happened, just not in the order the girl had thought. It explained the hostility as well.

To kill his own son? He wasn't wrong when he would say he had much to atone for.

She sat down silently next to Flynn as if all her energy was drained. The occasional sniffle could be heard over the crackling of the fire as the two ate their wolf meat under the stars.

The knots of fate can be quite cruel. Flynn thought as he watched the embers drift into the deep black of night.