Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

GeminiTay skipped as best she could through the ankle-deep snow. The thick alpine woods were a muffled landscape of winterberry pink and frigid blue, fractured in jagged lines by the setting sun streaming through the trees, sinking somewhere over the horizon. It was a hard hill to climb, especially for someone so young, but Gem was raised in these mountains and forests. Though the chill of the landscape bit and clawed when it passed her, it felt like home, and she was warm in her sweater and cloak. Warm for now; night was coming, and the specter of it brought a cold that even the heartiest of the mountain-valley folk both respected and feared, herself included. But she kept on skipping, leaving galloping footsteps in the snow behind her, a clear marker of how to get home. The sky was frigidly clear, and she had plenty of light to see by. Besides, she knew exactly where she was going.

Near the top of the snow-capped ridge, where the pallid blue shadow of crested snow met the yellow-orange sky, clumps of ash trees huddled against the wind, bowed so close together Gem could imagine they gossiped, like the old ladies in town around their weekly sewing circle. Clumped in their snow-laden branches were bright red berries, ripe for the picking. They were bitter right off the tree, too bitter to eat, but they would do wonders for the pantry as the winter ran its course and they were baked into breads and jams. Gem crested the hill, scattering some birds away from the base of the tree with her presence. The ground was red-stained from fallen berries and speckled by the footprints of woodland creatures who, like her, relied on the ash trees for food in the winter. She felt a little guilty snagging a few handfuls for her basket, but she resolved to leave plenty behind for the local fauna and made sure she left any of the unripened berries behind for anyone who came after her in the later weeks - or even her future self, if it came to that.

The wind pulled at her cloak, teasing the bright purple ribbon woven into her braid. It was getting colder. She should hurry.

When her basket was full, Gem began her descent, following her galloping trail with a much more boring but much more necessary walk. There’d be no use in spilling her hard work all over the ground, after all. Especially not with nightfall fast approaching. Though the sky was still streaked in orange and red, the sun had passed below the scraping teeth of the mountains, casting the world in frigid blue shadow. Her nose and ears were starting to ache already, despite her hood pulled up to cover them, and her gloved fingers were starting to go numb. Gem decided maybe it was worth the risk to walk a little faster.

She crunched on her way, reveling in the odd, muffled quiet a snow-covered world afforded her. The sound of her steps died out close to her feet, and in the dark of the evening the birdsong was pittering to a stop in the trees. She thought it was peaceful, the frozen twilight on this side of the mountain. Beautiful and cold, but mostly beautiful, dip-dyed in blue and purple as the light faded from the sky. Absolutely splendid, honestly. She thought it would be even more splendid when she was back inside her cabin, drinking cocoa near the fireplace and waiting on dinner to get ready. 

Gem pulled up short as she followed her trail past a thick copse of trees. Well… that certainly wasn’t right. Rather, it was right, because those were definitely her footprints in the snow, and definitely the light from her cabin shining in the distance just outside the tree line. What wasn’t right about it was the massive slog of footprints that passed right over her trail. Big prints, twice, or maybe three-times the size of her own. The trail of them barreled across her path, leaving a winding trough in the snow like it had half-dragged its massive body through. Or maybe not its body, but something else’s, because Gem was pretty sure that was blood staining her perfect, white snow. 

Gem approached the trail, clutching her basket tight to her chest, and before she could have the chance to even begin to wonder what had made it, a long, low growl rumbled. Gem turned her head to look, wondering quietly how she hadn’t noticed sooner. Hadn’t noticed the massive shadow rising up from between two of the trees that lined the path. Hadn’t noticed the billowing mass of fur that rose up, up, up, until she was craning her neck to meet the bright golden eyes glaring down at her. Hadn’t noticed the bright white teeth, flashing as they bared themselves in the dying light of the evening, long and wicked, seated in a muzzle that dripped blood redder than the berries in her basket onto the ground.

It had been a long, long time since there had been a wolf in her woods. Since before Gem had even been born, in fact, but she knew a wolf when she saw one. She’d heard the stories. She knew-

The wolf lurched in her direction, and Gem screamed.

Chapter Text

Ren woke up slowly, stretched out across his bed, warm. There was light he could see trailing through his eyelids, the rising sun pouring honey-golden through the window. His quilt was a heavy weight on his limbs, enticing him back to sleep. He was still in that hazy in-between, where if he just managed to shut his brain off enough, he was sure he could slip back under the fog of wakefulness and drift away; the kind of comfortable stasis he figured cats lived the majority of their lives in, curled up on the backs of couches and in rays of sunlight. He sure felt like a cat, his arms mingling with the tangled mess of his hair high over his head, fingers curled against the cool headboard and his legs tangled in his quilt where he’d turned in his sleep. Curiosity was tugging at him though, twittering with the morning birdsong, which he wouldn’t normally be able to hear, because normally the house would be too loud. Yes, that must have been what woke him. The house was quiet, and he could hear the birds. Ren yawned a deep breath, curling onto his side and pulling the quilt around himself tighter. No reason to wake then, no cause for alarm. It was just the birds in the air of a quiet house. How rare that he’d wake before anyone else did. How rare - the sunlight was warm and streaming, the grandfather clock in the living room chimed. Ren counted the bells as he lulled himself back to sleep again. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eig-

Ren’s eyes snapped open and he came gasping into wakefulness like a zombie resurrected by the setting sun. A quiet house? The sun was up? He was late! 

Ren leaped out of bed, remembering his legs were still tangled in the quilt only when he tripped and went crashing to the ground in a clumsy sprawl. He came tearing to his feet again, kicking the blanket off as he sprinted through the house, grabbing clothes and gear at a run. He stuffed himself into the first outfit he could find, growling impatiently at the care it took to loop a belt through his jeans and cinch on his suspenders. He dragged a brush through his hair, glancing at himself in the mirror to make sure he was at least mildly presentable - he could stand to go without shaving, right? Sure, fine. Whatever. Ren straightened his shirt, wincing at the wrinkles in the unkempt clothes but moving on to lace up his boots anyway. At least he didn’t have to pack a lunch - was he supposed to bring something? Oh gods, he couldn’t remember. He didn’t think he was supposed to bring anything? There were a few supply stores in town, surely he could - did he even have any emeralds? He’d been doing a lot of labor in exchange for goods recently. 

“Doc’s gonna kill me,” Ren moaned and, picking his battles for what they were, made for the door. He curled his hand around the handle, wincing when his sharp nails scratched lines into the wood, and then stopped. There was a bright ribbon tied around the doorknob: a reminder. Ren sighed. “Gods I’m a mess.”

He turned back to his room, grabbed the red ribbon he’d forgotten, still sitting on his nightstand. He crossed back to his mirror, taking special care as he tied his long brown hair back in a bun. It always sort of surprised Ren, seeing how long his hair had gotten; he wore it tied back so much, it was easy to forget to cut it. When he pulled his hair up it swept across the small of his back, and took a few passes from the ribbon just to tie it all together. He could probably get a pretty braid out of it, if he had enough time to sit and preen. At least he had the good fortune of choosing a red shirt - he and the ribbon matched. He could pretend it was planned, and not just a serendipity of convenient wardrobe choice. Ren took a bracing breath, checked to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything else important, then sprinted out the door like the devil itself was after him. 

Outside it was morning, glory. Bright, warm, vibrant. The smell of grass and dew hit him only a second after the deeper smells of tilled and trodden earth. The goat pen was open and empty, one more sign Ren was running horrendously late. He took a deep breath and jogged off down the dirt road, eyes squinted for any sign of the cart in the distance. With the sun to his back, Ren’s shadow preceded him, mirroring his jog in long movements. 

From the size of his shadow alone, most folks would guess Ren was a bigger man than he was, but he wouldn’t exactly call himself small either. He was broad shouldered and a bit leggy, a lot of sharp edges, slightly rounded out from use. He didn’t tower, but he had a good inch or two over most folks he came across, and he had big hands good for holding axes and rakes and shovels and really for working in general. He was the lithe sort of strong that came from working hard with calloused hands, chopping wood, gathering branches, sawing timber - a chore he’d been doing a lot of the past few days. It was one of the reasons he was so exhausted. One of the many reasons he’d slept in late. One of the reasons he was jogging down the road this morning, powered by adrenaline and the desire to be on time for once in his life. 

Still. His shadow was larger.

His shadow, stretching far in front of him, was the first thing to meet the cart he finally came in view of, dappled by the overhanging of a copse of trees it was rumbling towards. It was a cart, not a carriage, though it did have two passengers on it. There was room for one person to sit in the front on an uncomfortably small stool of a seat, which made it a far more comfortable ride to stand unless you were desperate. The cart on the back was long and brimming with timber, hewn from the fast-growing spruce and oak that grew around the valley Ren’s home was situated in, refined into cross beams and bars for building.

The man driving the cart, Docm77, stood tall and straight-backed, taller than Ren if he were standing in the same place. Doc was very nearly the tallest man in the village, with just as tall a reputation for how much work he put into keeping the place looking pretty and feeling safe. His skin was tanned from long hours working outside, and coupled with how dark his hair was, it gave Doc the look of someone carved straight from a dark-oak tree, broad and strong and deep-rooted. He held the reins of the cart in his right prosthetic, the wire-and-scratch apparatus chipped and dented from daily use on a farm and ranch. It was more a tool than a hand. He seemed to prefer it that way. At the very least, Doc was more than capable of making something impressive, yet actively chose not to. He’d joked many times before that the gods had put him in his place by taking his arm, and he’d be doing them a great disservice in showing them up a second time by simply building a better one. Next time they might take something a little less replaceable, like his great sense of humor.

GeminiTay sat on the host of logs in the back of the cart, balancing with the practiced ease of someone who’d ridden in the back of the bumbling, rumbling wagon many times before. Currently, she was re-making her braid, red and yellow ribbons winding through her pink-orange hair like she was trying to set it on fire. She had a few flowers braided in as well, matching the flowers she’d embroidered into her overalls. She looked adorable, as was her habit: a disarming tactic to put folks at ease about her overwhelming mischief. There were few mornings that went by where Gem didn’t disappear from a task for a few hours, sidetracked by a flight of fancy that inevitably snowballed to involve the theft of something precious, the scavenger hunt or obstacle course necessary to retrieve it, and the startled reminder that she’d stopped in the middle of something important earlier and needed to complete the chore in a mad dash of last minute frenzy, often with a handful of new wild animal “pets” in tow, who seemed just as enchanted by her warm presence as any of the village folks were. One of Ren’s fondest memories of Gem was finding her interrupted in the middle of an apple-picking mission, quietly chastising a hungry bear for stealing her basket - and then riding the thing around for a few hours, using its extra height to reach ripened fruit high up in the branches. The bear had startled off when it smelled Ren coming, much to Gem’s disappointment. 

When she spotted Ren running up the path, Gem grinned and hollered up to Doc, “Well look who the dogs dug up!”

Doc waved a hand. “He’s lucky Vigenere was in a slow mood today, or he’d be walking all the way to town.”

He made sure to yell the second half of his sentence, loud enough for Ren to hear - but there was a grin in his voice as he did so and he pulled the cart to a halt. Vigenere, the massive white goat pulling the wagon, lowered her head, ears back, impatient. She was full of all the stubborn fire most goats were known for, and given she was as tall as some horses, that was a frightful thing indeed. Four of her offspring, only slightly shorter but every bit as cantankerous, pulled the cart along with her, and one of them stomped an impatient hoof on the ground. Another gave a loud moaning bleat and tossed its head, jingling it’s harness in a sound not unlike sleigh bells. Ren finally caught up to them, vaulting into the back of the cart and clambering atop the wood pile next to Gem. He barely had time to settle in before Doc was spurring them off again, Vigenere leading her team at a stiff trot.

Gem whispered to Ren conspiratorially, though noticeably loud enough for Doc to hear, “I'm pretty sure he was slowing Vi down on purpose.”

“Why didn’t you guys wake me up?”

“We tried man, but you just kept rolling over and going back to sleep again,” Doc chuckled.

“I told him we should just draw up some cold water to dump on you,” Gem added with an innocent smile. 

Ren winced at the thought, a shiver threatening to crawl up his spine just at the imagining. “I think I preferred the morning jog.”

“We thought you would.”

“It’s a good thing you did get up.” Doc waved away a trio of butterflies that were fluttering near his face. They swooped around to Gem, one of them landing for a moment on the flowers in her hair before flying off again. Gem hurriedly got back to finishing her braid. “The whole reason this is on today is because of your hunting trip.”

“You say that like Gem isn’t also going,” Ren pointed out.

“Gem can go hunting any time,” Doc said, and Ren shrugged, conceding the point. “You have to go this weekend.”

“They still didn’t have to move the wedding just for me.”

“You underestimate the usefulness of a pair of strong hands,” Doc chuckled, and Vigenere picked up her pace a bit more. “The village needs good builders.”

“Half the town’s a better builder than me.”

“Well, it’s a good chance to learn from the masters then.” Gem flashed him a mischievous grin. “Or it would be, except I’m not building today.” She sighed dreamily and flipped her finished braid over her shoulder. “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten to make a whole garden from scratch!”

They bantered on into the morning, trundling noisily down the dirt path that led from their side of the valley into the sparse woodlands beyond, and further, until that woodland opened into fields again and the wide bowl of the valley they called home distinguished itself from the blue-white spine of peaks surrounding it. Ren saw a creeper weaving between the trees, and it glanced in their direction in a cursory way before walking off again, leaving them in peace. On their left they passed Horsehead Farms, massive fields of wheat, carrots, and potatoes broken up by tracks of grazing land for cattle and sheep. Half the town worked there in some capacity - including Ren, who after several years now ran the sawmill with minimal oversight from the farm’s owners. Gem often joined the rest of the village around harvest time when all the crops were brought up to the granary and storehouses, where the edge of the farm property brushed against the edge of town. 

Horsehead Farms was co-owned by Hypnotized and xBCrafted, and would be a rather perilous monopoly of goods if the two weren’t so disinterested in turning a profit. IOU’s, some repaid and others subtly ignored, were a frequent currency of the farms, especially to the many folks that helped to work them. Where that failed, the two farm owners donated most of their overproduction to the town hall, where it was distributed amongst the community during hard times. Really it was less a co-owned farm, and more a massive community project, one many folks in the town relied on in some capacity.

Ahead of them, trundling along in their own horse-pulled cart, the owners of Horsehead Farms were also striking out towards town, taking up a solid half the road with how massive their supply cart was. Vigenere’s quick trot brought them alongside boxes of nails and building bits-and-bobs, different types of decorative woods, stacked glass panes, and a few barrels of unknown contents - though likely seeds for the garden beds Gem was so excited about. Hypno, tow-headed and strikingly pale in comparison to the black jacket and headscarf he wore, was lounging with his ankles crossed over the top of the buckboard, arms pillowed behind his head. xB, the selected driver for the morning, wore an identical black jacket, and he scratched at his beard as he bickered with his associate.

“Listen, I’m just saying, it’s not that great of a farm idea if we can just outsource it, right?”

“Etho doesn’t deal in bulk, dude,” Hypno pointed out, “and if they’re really thinking about letting us access potion breweries? We’re gonna want some bulk stock. Do you have any idea how much some swiftness potions would help with the harvest this year?”

“Right, I get that, but the Powers That Be have been threatening to let us get potions for like, three years now? I don’t think it’s gonna fly with the brass, you know, and they’ll probably regulate that sorta thing anyway - oh! G’mornin’ Doc!”

Hypno cracked an eye open and waved as Doc reined in Vigenere beside their leading horses, the two carts matching pace. “If it ain’t the Goatfather himself - figured you’d be in town already, buddy.”

“We had a straggler.” Doc jabbed a thumb in Ren’s direction.

Ren huffed indignantly, sitting up a little straighter on the wood pile. “Well I still made it, didn’t I?”

Gem elbowed him in the ribs. “Just barely.”

Ren opened his mouth to argue, but a particularly nasty bump in the road cut him off. Ren noticed the Horsehead Farms cart was edging ahead of theirs slightly. He and Gem exchanged a look.

“How’s everything up at the ol’ 8-Side?” xB asked pleasantly, fiddling with the reins as the cart creeped forward a little bit more. “Last we heard you guys were expecting?”

“The Octagon’s got four strong kids in the barn and one more on the way, if the pregnancy goes well,” Doc hummed, letting his reins slacken a bit. Vigenere took the hint and picked up her pace a tad. Their cart crept forward, until Doc was passing the Horsehead wagon just slightly. “Gem and I were talking about maybe trying our hand at some goat’s cheese for the town soon, you know, it might be a nice change from all the cow products going around.”

“Right, right, yeah.” Hypno slowly straightened in his seat, uncrossing his ankles from the buckboard and planting them more firmly beneath him. He reached around to grab a tighter hold on the cart, and he grinned. “Variety is the spice of life and all that, but you can’t really make a warm cup of hot chocolate with goat’s milk, yanno? Or bake a cake - speaking of which, I heard one of the folks in town is thinking of making a bakery. It’ll be good for our business - like most things are.”

“Right, your business, speaking of - ahm - when do you plan on selling the saw mill to Ren? He does a great job running the place for you. He’s got that down to an art, right brother?”

“Doc,” Ren said warningly. Gem grinned and grabbed onto the backboard of the cart. Ren thought that was probably a good idea-

With a whoop, xB suddenly spurred the horses forward, and their cart lurched into a rattling run as the goods piled in the back clattered together. Doc called to Vigenere not a second after, and throwing all her weight behind her first lunge she broke into a loping gallop, half-dragging the rest of her team along as she went. The sudden lurch forward nearly tossed Ren off the wagon, if Gem hadn’t managed to grab a fistful of his shirt and one of his suspenders. The two carts pounded down the rough road, clouds of dust and dirt flying as the two animal teams raced towards the village - the first houses of which were coming into view on the edges of the Horsehead property. Vigenere’s team found their rhythm behind her, and they started gaining on the other wagon.

“Do you guys have to do this every time you meet on the road?” Ren shouted over the jostling and rumbling, clinging both to the cart and to Gem as though his life depended on it - and given how quickly the ground blurred in his peripheral vision, he thought it might. 

xB laughed loudly over the wind. “No idea what you’re talking about, Ren!”

“Yeah, it’s not every time!” Gem was grinning gleefully, leaning forward over the backboard and holding onto Doc’s shoulder like she could somehow save him if he suddenly slipped off the wagon. “Just, you know, most times!”

The two carts were fairly evenly matched, gaining and losing ground to each other in seconds and strides. But that was the thing about cart races: it was always the best rhythm that won, and Vigenere was a strong lead goat. Her head was down, nostrils flared, her massive curling horns bobbing with every loping gallop and her team mirrored her movements. Slowly they started to edge forward and keep their lead, while Hypno shouted for xB to go faster, and xB did his best to urge the horses forward without being too rough on the reins. Doc was laughing in a way that Ren could only describe as maniacal, his hand clasped on Gem’s like she was his lifeline while his prosthetic tangled in the reins. He leaned forward, like pitching his weight could actually help the team of goats as they thundered down the road. The houses on the outskirts of town were getting closer, and through the blur of jittering movement on the cart Ren could make out startled people clearing the road.

“We’re almost there, Vigenere!” Doc called, breathless from laughing. “Show them what you’ve got!”

“Look back there Vigenere!” Hypno shouted over the noise, leaning off the side of his cart like he had a death wish. “I think I saw a tin can - you should totally stop and check it out!”

“My goats don’t eat cans! They feast on the best wheat that emeralds can buy!”

“Wheat from our farms!” xB pestered, and he laughed when his horses gained a bit of ground. “Give it up Doc! Those little goat legs can’t keep going that fast for long!”

“You’ll eat those words with my dust!”

“Gentlemen,” Gem said with altogether too much calm in her voice than what the situation warranted. “The road?”

The whole group looked to the front, where the houses were approaching at rapid speed, and with it, the bend in the road where the path leading into town connected with the main street. Doc and xB shared a look that was much more akin to a dare. The turn in the road was sharp, and while it could certainly handle two wagons going at a plodding pace, their breakneck speed would be too sharp a turn. Ren looked down at the heavy timber he sat on and wondered how bad it’d feel to tumble off the cart with it.

“You know, a responsible person would be hittin’ the breaks right about now,” Hypno dared.

“You see any responsible folks around here?” Doc bared his teeth in something that was half grin and all snarl.

“I kinda don’t wanna die today,” xB piped up, and Ren thought he perfectly mirrored the anxiety growing on the other man’s face.

“That would spoil the wedding a bit, my dudes!” Ren chipped in.

“Nonsense, red is an epic accent color for a white wedding,” Gem giggled.

“We can make that turn,” Hypno shouted defiantly, “we’ve got the agility!”

“Not carrying around all that weight you don’t!” Doc spat back, bracing one foot forward like he was preparing for something. Ren gripped the cart tighter, and considered his chances if he bailed.

“Says the guy with half a forest of lumber in his cart!”

“This is about control,” Doc said as smoothly as he could with the potholes in the road threatening to toss him from his seat, “and I have plenty.”

“Uhm! Excuse me! What about us?!” Ren shouted, and Doc blinked at him like he’d just remembered he was there.

They were still running at a full gallop, and Ren was counting the seconds it would take them to go belting past the first houses on the block, guessing the seconds it would take them to hit that treacherous bend in the road. Someone on the street, sheltered on the porch of their home, was yelling at them to slow down. xB pulled back on his reins and with a command his horses began to slow just as they passed the first house. Doc laughed, clearly figuring himself for the winner.

“Doc,” Gem reminded, alarm finally making its way into her voice. “The road.”

“I got it I got it,” and he was pulling back on the reins as well, but stubbornly Vigenere galloped on, her gait only shortening just barely. That turn was fast approaching.

“You two, get on the far side of the cart,” Doc shouted suddenly, pointing to the inside of the turn. “We’re gonna tip!”

“Slow down then!” Ren yelped.

“I’m trying, man! You wanna take the reins and do better?”

Gem was already clambering where she’d been pointed though, and Ren joined her, hanging off the side of the cart perilously as they neared the turn. Doc pulled back on the reins a bit further, breaking into the turn as much as he could. Vigenere finally seemed to heed the command a bit too late. Her team rounded the bend, and then the wood-laden cart did. Ren gasped as he was suddenly swept into the air, the wheels he was crouching so dangerously near yanking off the ground. They skidded around the turn, and Ren got a good hard look at the blur of color that was going to be the new bakery storefront.

With a startled scream from he and Gem, peppered in between by more of Doc’s howling laughter, the cart slammed back down on all four wheels, bouncing hard enough against the ground that Ren well and truly lost his hold this time and went tumbling into the dirt - gratefully out of the way of the wheels. He landed on his back, losing his breath as he rolled across the street, dizzy. Vigenere and her team cooled down to a trot and a walk, and then finally a complete stop, snorting and panting. Gem hopped down off the side of the wagon and jogged over to him. “Oh my gosh! Ren! Are you okay?”

She skid to a stop just short of him, and Ren, still half-dizzy from the fall, didn’t realize why until a pale-gray hand reached across his field of vision. Ren was pulled to his feet abruptly, and someone was patting the dust off his shirt. Someone gray-skinned and beaming, with blue eyes like spinning whirlpools and enough scars criss-crossing his skin to imply a life of violence and misery, or maybe just violence and a proclivity to unfortunate accidents, but definitely violence was in there somewhere.

“Haha, wow! And here I thought we were the only airborne folks around here! You doing okay there little guy? No concussions? Broken bones?” The person - were vex people? - currently dusting him off and shaking him down, was Scar. If Ren weren’t so dazed and confused by the fall itself, he might have panicked and recoiled away, so it was probably good then that he was stunned; he couldn’t think of a better way to insult a vex, really, and insulting a vex was a very good way to shorten your lifespan. Or so he’d been told. He wasn’t really sure. Ren made it a habit to stay as far away from the vex as possible, when given the choice.

A shadow passed over the two of them and with a kick of dust, Cub landed beside Scar, his jagged, gargoyle-like wings folding with surprising neatness against the small of his back. He was the shorter of the pair of vex that often haunted the town’s rooftops, but his presence always seemed… bigger. He carried himself like someone who knew violence like the house they grew up in, comfortable and warm, and only bittersweet when warped by hindsight. Scar mostly carried himself like someone who enjoyed it, like standing over an anthill with a magnifying glass. The pair wore loose cloaks that slit down the sides for their wings to fit neatly in, Cub’s white and Scar’s brown. Ren thought together with the gray skin, they looked a bit like winter, and winter felt a good bit like the vex, come to think of it. 

“Oh! Here,” Scar grinned - he rarely didn’t, honestly - and held up his hand, two clawed fingers and a thumb splayed outward. His voice was sing-song as he asked, “how many fingers am I holding up? I’ll give you a hiiiint! Hm-hm! It’s fewer than you probably think.”

Ren stammered for a moment, wading through his own mind like it was quicksand. “I-i-i uh… thr-three?” 

“Oooo, so close! Might wanna get your head checked there, buddy.”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Doc cut in with a warm smile, saving Ren from the mire of his own confusion and panic, and worrying about the possible ramifications of answering the innocuous-but-probably-somehow-insidious finger question wrong. Doc stepped between him and Scar, moving forward to shake Scar’s hand cordially, but in the moment the positioning stuck out to Ren as something purposeful. Protective, if he chose to read it that way, an obstacle between the vex and Ren. “Come to oversee the wedding?”

“Oh! A wedding? That’s beautiful! Oh, I always cry at weddings, right Cub?” Scar laughed, elbowing Cub like there was some great inside-joke no one else was in on.

Cub shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was also smiling - it seemed to be a vex trait, really, the constant smiling - but while Scar’s was brimming with enthusiasm and mischief, Cub’s was much firmer in the realm of easy sauntering and hiding motives, a place-holder for his thoughts. His voice was softer too, when he spoke, but no less unsettlingly pleasant. “We’re just here to keep an eye out on the town. So many folks all in one place, there’s bound to be trouble stirring up.”

Doc chuckled nervously. “Ahm… trouble? In Haltvale? Who would ever stir up trouble here?”

“Indeed, indeed.” Cub’s smirk twitched and he narrowed his eyes at Doc. “Who ever heard of trouble in Haltvale? It’s not like someone would crash a cart on the main street, or anything.”

“I had everything under control.”

“Oh absolutely, absolutely.”

Ren felt a hand on his shoulder, and Gem pulled him away from the pair of vex, leading him towards the cart while Doc continued the conversation. There she busied herself with checking on the goats, whispering in his direction, “You okay, Ren?”

"Great, I’m great. Got kicked off the wagon, got manhandled by the vex. Just your standard Thursday," Ren groaned, finally managing to take some inventory of himself after the tumble. His lower back felt bruised, and he stretched with a grunt, feeling something in his spine pop uncomfortably. Ren rubbed the sore spot, glowering, and then as subtly as he could manage, checked his pockets for anything missing. Not that it’d matter if Scar had nicked something off him - the vex didn’t give back much that they took, unless they were repaying something in kind.

Gem flashed him a sympathetic look. “Nothing’s broken right?”

“Oh, just my pride maybe. Jeez. I’m surprised Doc didn’t crack the axle with that stunt.”

Gem giggled as one of the goats butted its head against her side, and she scratched the top of its head. “Yeah… Next time, maybe one of us should drive the cart down the valley. Especially if we know we’ll meet Horsehead Farms on the road.”

With that, Gem hopped up into the cart again, taking up the reins and waving for Ren to join her. He did, hanging off the side of the cart and casting a backwards glance in Doc’s direction as he did so. He was still chatting up the vex, and Ren had to wonder how Doc could hold a conversation with the pair of unsettling creatures for so long. But he did, with relative ease in fact.

Ren wasn’t sure why it surprised him anymore - he wouldn’t exactly say Doc and the vex were friends. He didn’t think vex could have friends, in the same way that normal people could, but they were on friendly terms. Friendly enough that most disputes the town had with the vex and the folks they worked for could be negotiated, instead of ending in some kind of bloody altercation; which was good, since Haltvale had nothing to write home about as far as arms and fighting was concerned. Sure, most folks in town knew how to shoot a bow and arrow, and there were folks like FalseSymmetry and Doc himself who’d seen fighting at some point in their lives. But compared to the vex with their claws and teeth and wings and magic? The evokers they worked with? Their vindicators and pillagers? The monsters they rode with?

Ren caught the tail end of something to do with some bird sightings as the cart began trundling up the street. Scar was babbling about the exciting possibility of some monster in the region with a massive wingspan and a penchant for mischief. Doc asked if it was another vex from a rival pack invading their turf. Cub shrugged, seeming unimpressed with the idea. If it was, he said, he would handle it. The jagged wings on his back twitched, clawed digits flexing.

Yes, it was good the vex liked Doc - or liked Doc as much as a monster could like a person. It was good he could talk to them easily, and untroubled. It was good the vex saw him as something like an equal, with some measure of respect. It made life in Haltvale a lot easier, even when they threatened everyone with their presence on the regular. It could always be worse.

They’re still scary as heck, though, Ren thought.

Cub’s gaze suddenly flicked in his direction. They made eye contact, and Cub winked, showing sharp teeth on the edge of his smirk. Ren valiantly pretended it was a bump in the road that almost startled him off the cart again.

Doc caught up with them when they were further down the road, and he walked alongside Vigenere, speaking words of encouragement to her after the morning’s run. She occasionally flicked an ear in his direction, the only indicator that she was even paying him cursory attention. Such was a life working with goats.

“So are the vex going to attend the wedding?” Gem asked pleasantly, as though it wouldn’t be a nerve-wracking inconvenience if the vex crashed a wedding party. “Scar seemed pretty excited.”

“The vex can’t step foot in the town hall.” Doc shook his head. “They might find a nice rooftop to watch from, though, if they think it’s worth their time.”

“Oh, I didn’t know they like, physically couldn’t enter town hall,” Ren hummed, glancing down the street to where the top of the aforementioned building peaked out above a couple of house roofs. “I just sorta figured they shook down everyone individually if they needed something.”

“They’re not incapable.” Doc waved a hand dismissively. “They don’t enter because of the er, contract? Between False and the baron. She pointed out we have no safe space or neutral ground, so it’s a designated safe house now, for - ahm - negotiation purposes, I think. If the vex got it into their heads one day to enter, they could walk right in through the front door just like anyone else could - if the baron let them.”

“Oh.”

Doc thought for a moment and added, “It’s probably why they corner folks so much, you know, they can’t just ask for things in town hall. I should bring that up to False.”

“I don’t think they’d go through the front door,” Gem mused, adding to the conversation absentmindedly as she twisted the reins in her lap. “Scar strikes me as the kind of person to break a window for dramatic effect. And Cub would too, probably, but he’d be more threatening about it.”

Doc shrugged. “I’m pretty sure they can walk through walls, man. They’re magic.”

“Can Cub read minds?” Ren asked suddenly, gleaning him a confused look from Gem.

“Do you feel like he read your mind?” Gem spoke slowly, like she was still deciding if a vex mind-reader sounded possible or not.

“If Cub could read minds…” Doc’s voice dropped low and grim, and he muttered like he was speaking to Vigenere and not the two of them, “we, ahm, we would have been run off or killed a long time ago.”

Ren and Gem exchanged glances. Doc didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.

Chapter Text

While they might have beaten Horsehead Farms into town, they were behind them pulling up to their destination. The folks of the village had cleared out a place where a clump of forest edged around the south side of town, felling trees and pulling stumps and slashing brush until they had a chunk of space big enough for a new building project. There was already a gathered crowd of folks when their wagons pulled in, and a third wagon full of supplies already set up and unloading, the dark grey canvas telling of whose it was. Jevin called to them pleasantly as he passed off a box from the back of his wagon to one of the villagers waiting nearby. He dusted off his hands and meandered over, a very new looking blue hoodie nearly glowing from how bright it was. It matched the equally new-looking blue dye he’d colored his hair with. Ren thought it was a nice departure from the green he’d worn previously.

Jevin was a trader, normally prone to wandering, but since the truce had been called between the village and the baron, he’d been contracted as the middleman for trading between the two. Ores and metalworking provided by the baron went to Haltvale, and in return farm goods and lumber was shipped to the baron. In between the running back and forth, Jevin kept up a shortened version of his previous trading route, providing the village with some rarer materials - mostly to the tune of exotic dyes and monster-farmed materials like gunpowder and slime. 

“So, who won the race today?” Jevin hummed at Ren with a mild smile as he hopped off the wagon.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hypno laughed as he unhitched his horses, fixing to lead them to a patch of shade and grass nearby to rest.

“Doc won again, didn’t he?”

“Oh hush . We’ll get him next time.”

“The jacket looks new, Jev,” xB grunted under the weight of a barrel as he slung it out from the back of his wagon.

“Yeah, I was testing out some cyan dye that came in from one of the outposts.” Jevin smiled, pulling on the edge of the hoodie to splay out the color. Looking a bit closer, Ren could make out some faded patterning on the hem resembling slimes. “It’s a strong color. If you guys think you’d be interested I can stock up next time I’m out that direction.”

Then Jevin seemed to remember himself, and added sheepishly, “Uh - some other time though. Everything today is free of charge.”

“Oh hey, what, really?” Ren was surprised. Not that Jevin was a ruthless entrepreneur - but his goods were often hard to find, or dangerous to gather, or both, and Jevin knew his worth. Jevin shrugged, and fidgeted with a beaded bracelet on his arm.

“I mean, hey, weddings are a celebration right? And so is house-raising.” Jevin smiled. “I can appreciate that.”

“Well, thanks, my dude,” Ren beamed. “That’ll definitely make the building easier.”

“Alright everyone!” a shout raised itself above the rest, and the group of them turned to the center of the clearing where a man stood on a crate, blueprints under one arm. Out of all the folks gathered, he seemed the most ready to start the day, equipped with a builder’s vest and a carpenter’s tool belt already laden with tools. It took Ren a second to remember his name: Keralis. “Let’s get this build a-building! We’ve got a lot to do and only a day to do it! Everyone line up we’ll get some teams assigned- oh! Angelface!”

Keralis gave a full-body wave in xB’s direction, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Did you get all the furniture the bride ordered?”

“Yeppers. It’s ready to be assembled.” xB kicked the nearby wagon wheel. “Me ‘n Hypno will get right on it.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Keralis said with a high-pitched giggle. “Amazing! Doc, I’ll have your help with the prints-blue. Now, for those teams-”

All told, there were about thirty of them that showed up to the house-raising, and they all lined up so Keralis could divvy them out jobs. Keralis had the esteemed position of head builder because he was the best carpenter in town, and seen the most house-raisings out of them all, and was the most experienced in organizing something that wouldn’t fall down in five years. 

House-raisings were a love letter from Haltvale to its villagers. It was a work day, a holiday, a chore, and a gift all at once, where the whole community came together and made a day of raising some walls. This specific occasion was for the marriage of the Smithsons, now that the couple would be moving out to try and start a family of their own. Both husband and wife had been sitting down with Keralis for the better part of a month, putting together the blueprints of their dream home - within the constraints of what the community could donate to the project - and with their vision laid out on paper, and their wedding planned, they were ready to build. As was customary, neither were allowed on the site until after their wedding tomorrow, and then the whole town would flock down with them to watch them walk across the threshold and into their new life. 

Of course, house-raisings and barn-raisings were done for a thousand other reasons too. If a fire tore something down, the community came together to raise it. If a flood washed it away, the community remade it. They were builders - and their answer to most problems in life was to simply build it again, build it better, and get ready to build in the future. They were damn good at it too. Or at least, Ren thought so. Then again, he didn’t count himself among the best builders in town, so maybe his opinion wasn’t worth much.

Keralis and Doc got to sorting the gathered people. Ren found himself with the group meant to raise and place the walls, a job he was well used to after the handful of house and barn raisings he’d been a part of before. Gem waved a pleasant goodbye to him as she joined the gardening and landscaping crew. There was another crew designated to build furniture, and another to lay chimney bricks and foundation. With the clap of his hands, Keralis got them started, and the first stones for the foundation were laid. Concrete was poured. 

Someone tossed Ren an axe and he got in the lineup of folks readying the logs for the walls. He waited patiently for a pair of markers to go through, measuring and re-measuring cuts according to Keralis’s blueprints, before he and a few others got to work hacking away at them. After his bump off the cart that morning, the work started a bit sore for Ren. His back ached over the first few cuts, and he moved stiff and slow. He got into the groove of it though, letting his mind wander over the monotonous work. Somewhere on the other side of the worksite, a stonecutter ground to life, screeching as stone brick was laid across it. Hammers struck in tandem as the cut lumber was fitted into a wood frame, ready to be set to foundation. 

By mid-morning the foundation was laid and settled, and a skeleton of the walls were raised. They laid them flat on the ground, lined up with holes in the ground where eventually the frame would slot into place. Everyone lined up on one edge of the wall to lift it skyward.

“Ren!” Doc ordered as they began to hoist. “Stand on the beam there, we’ll have you lay the timber for the second floor.”

Ren did as he was told, clambering onto the frame as it was hoisted upwards. The frame jolted as someone joined him, and he looked over to see FalseSymmetry perched on the opposite side from him, clinging to the rising timbers like they were a ship’s mast. Given her leather-heavy outfit choice, she looked rather pirate-ish as she clung to the beams, blonde hair kicking up with the breeze the higher they went. Ren waved to her.

“Mornin’ False!”

“Heyo Ren!” she smiled back at him. “Beautiful day to build a house, huh?”

“Sure beats raising Doc’s barn in the drizzle last year!” Ren chuckled, and then yelped as the frame slammed into place in the foundation, jostling both him and False where they were perched at the top. The two of them talked weather and woodwork while the far wall was lifted into place, and then worked together to get the first beams of the second floor lifted and hammered into place. He had to admire her confidence in the air - running across newly laid timber frames with all the trust of a sailor in the ratlines of their ship. Ren followed behind her a bit more cautiously, though he counted it a point of pride that he didn’t lose his grip or trip once.

The morning progressed into an afternoon blur, dappled in golden sunlight and the ever-present hum of stonecut and hammerfall. As the walls found themselves hammered into place and the floors laid, as foot traffic outside the house slowly made its way inside to interiors and furniture and window panes, outside Gem and her team got to work landscaping. Shovels piled and moved dirt around the house, sod was rolled in carpets across the ground, leaving earth churned by dozens of footsteps overlaid in patchwork green. In the back they sectioned off a portion for a sizable vegetable garden, while others in her team got to work on flower beds around the front of the house. It was good work for Gem, who seemed to be constantly trailed by butterflies and bees; it was work she took pride in. She handled seedlings and transplants into the vegetable garden with all the care of a proud parent sending their kids off to their first day of school, doting over stem and leaf, building the perfect fence around them to keep them protected from the many pests that made the valley their home. He’d heard quite a few “fantastic!”s and “perfect!”s from her direction as she worked. Currently she seemed to be instructing someone on how best to plant an apple tree sapling. Two of the younger villagers got to work building a chicken coop on the opposite side of the backyard, taking joy in making it look like a miniature version of the house still actively being built in front of them.

Ren joined the roofing crew, six of them all working together to lay shingles to keep the rain off. Their trade with the baron had recently brought them into deepslate, and this would be the first house in the valley with a deepslate roof. Ren found he liked how the tiles sounded when he tacked them in place - a pleasant cracking noise that reminded him of kicking rocks down the road. Underneath him he could hear Keralis directing people and the sound of scraping and hammering as the interior was put in. He’d glanced at the plans a few times as the day had progressed, normally over Keralis or Doc’s shoulders as he walked by carrying timber, and he knew there was an attic, two upstairs bedrooms, and several rooms downstairs. 

As he shifted on the roof to hammer in another row of shingles, he wondered idly what kind of house he’d build if he ever had to plan a house-raising of his own. Maybe something with a skylight, so he could see the sky from his bedroom. Though windows would probably work fine for that, if he were forced to compromise. Obviously the house would need to be east-west aligned, to make best use of the sunlight. He daydreamed about a house centralized around the fireplace. What about a house that was circular? Wouldn’t that be interesting? A bit impractical, and probably hard to measure for. How would you even lay logs for that sort of thing? Ren started another row of shingles.

Around noon they broke for lunch, and in lieu of scrambling down the ladder just to have to scramble back up again, Ren and a few others sat on the shingles eating sandwiches. If Ren weren’t already so hot and tired from the work he’d done, he’d probably enjoy the chance to stretch out on the sun-warmed deepslate. Instead, he found himself wiping sweat from his brow and desperately wishing the sun would go down lower so the trees could offer some shade. He felt eyes on his back once, and glanced Scar and Cub chatting in a tree nearby, occasionally one lifting off to survey the build before landing again. Ren took a second to make sure his hair was still tightly tied back, and got back to shingling the roof, valiantly pretending to himself that the vex watching him work was completely normal and not unsettling in the slightest.

Mid-afternoon brought with it some clouds and a slight breeze, and Ren ran out of places to put shingles, which he figured meant the roof was done. Walking along it he got a good view of Gem’s finished gardens, now complete with a quaint little stone path leading from the home out towards the village street. There was a shed being erected on one corner of the property for tools and storage. There were three chickens exploring the new chicken coop. Spare lumber was being packed away on the wagons. Jevin, xB, and Doc were all standing in a circle discussing stocking the house with food and necessities. Someone was carrying some flower pots in through the front door. Someone else must be testing to make sure the flue in the fireplace was working, because smoke was starting to drift from the chimney.

“Looks like we got it done,” False spoke up suddenly, standing beside him where the shingles met the gutter. Her pants were dirt smudged, and Ren reached over to pluck some sawdust out of her hair.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” he agreed, taking a second to dust his hands off on his pants. There was a tear in the knee of his jeans where he’d snagged himself on a nail at some point, and he’d skinned his knuckles catching a bag of falling shingles earlier. His back was sore again. 

“They’re gonna love it,” False hummed, stretching her arms behind her head like she was also feeling the day. He’d seen her laying flooring earlier - a job he thought ranked up there with laying shingles and brickwork on how unpleasant it was, “and I’m going to sleep for the next week I think.”

"Oh, dude, no kidding," Ren laughed somewhat ruefully, wincing a bit at limbs already threatening to stiffen. "Between this and my bump off the cart this morning, I'm surprised my spine didn't come crawling out of me at some point."

She laughed at him, a high and happy sound, full-hearted. "Yeah, I heard about the race this morning. If you want my advice, next time you meet Horsehead Farms on the road, bail before it even gets started. That's the only way of winning that scenario I think."

"Yeah I might just have to, jeez ."

"Speaking of this morning," False put her hands in her pockets and looked down at the people milling about below them, and Ren thought he saw something in her shoulders stiffen. He frowned as she continued, "I heard you had a run in with the vex. Anything I should know about?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so." Ren mirrored her, picking someone carrying a barrel across the yard to track with his gaze. He got the feeling she was going for discretion; just in case the vex, somewhere, were watching. "Mostly Scar was just having some fun, I think. They talked to Doc for a while. Something about a rival vex showing up, maybe?"

"Yeah, Doc told me." She ran a hand through her hair, knocking against the goggles currently serving as a convenient hairband, before slipping it back in her pocket again. "I was wondering why they've been hanging around town so much lately. Do me a favor, yeah? You all live up the valley a ways. You mind keeping an eye out for anything flying through? If there's a rogue vex around, they'll pick off folks on the outskirts first."

The image of a vex landing on the barn, jagged wings splayed, while those swirling blue eyes threatened to pull him in flashed through Ren’s mind. He'd never seen a vex attack anyone before; he never had to. Cub and Scar were scary enough that most trouble tended to scamper off when they landed. But those claws, those hungry grins - in spite of the warm sun on his skin, Ren shuddered.

"Yeah… I'll make sure Doc and Gem keep an eye out too."

"Thank you." False smiled at him warmly. "Try not to worry about it too much - I’m sure when whatever-it-is gets a look at our resident gargoyles, they’ll move on. But I'll keep my sword sharpened just in case. If you need anything, just give me a shout."

"Uh, sure thing, Falsey."

"Oh! And if you don’t make it to the wedding tomorrow I guess I’ll say it now - good luck on your hunt." She meanered away from him, making her way to a ladder propped against the side of the house. "If you find any cool antler sheds, bring them back for my collection."

“Will do!” He flashed her a mock salute, and she laughed as she descended from view.

Ren let out a bracing breath, scanning around the trees and rooftops to see if he could glance the vex again. He didn’t. He let himself wonder idly where they even disappeared to, when they weren’t making menaces of the town’s shadows. Then he climbed off the roof to join the folks putting on the finishing touches below. Most of what was left was busy work: polishing surfaces, sweeping floors, scrubbing walls, and stocking pantry shelves. He picked whatever tasks he thought wouldn’t add to the cumulative aching in his back, and worked with the rest of them until everything shone and sparkled, and smelled faintly of pine resin. 

It really was a beautiful house.

Chapter Text

It was good that False took the time to say goodbye at the house-raising. As it turned out, Ren and Gem had no intentions of going to the wedding the next day, though not for lack of desire to. In fact, Ren had been looking forward to all the good food that folks would bring during the celebration, and Gem had several flower arrangements she’d been excited to see placed in the town hall. Their hunting trip, however, was more pressing. Or rather, getting up to the cabin past the snow line without getting caught in bad weather was more pressing. So first thing in the morning they were both up and getting ready to go.

Ren was, predictably, sore. Every muscle protested climbing out of his warm bed, stooping to grab scattered clothes and belongings off the floor and shoving them into a pack. Doc had kindly gotten to work on the goat pens for him, saving him the groaning chore of shoveling mess and baling hay. Ren thought Doc enjoyed the work anyway. Normally he was too busy making runs into town or entertaining guests to spend one-on-one time with his precious goats. Through his cracked bedroom window, Ren could hear Doc singing to a group of leggy kids as he cradled one to bottle feed it, helping it along while its mother rested in a nearby field. Ren didn’t look outside to check, but he was sure Vigenere was hovering over his shoulder - she often followed him around the farm like a dog on his heels. A big dog the size of a small horse, with long spiraling horns and an affinity for headbutting or kicking anything that even mildly inconvenienced her, but still very much like a dog.

Ren stretched out his sore muscles for probably the eighteenth time that morning and made his way into the kitchen to make breakfast. He had eggs frying by the time Gem meandered out to join him, yawning tiredly and shuffling like she was still half asleep. He slid her a cup of tea across the counter that she caught deftly just before it could tumble off the side. She took a long sip and sighed.

“I’m not ready for the snow,” she whined pitifully, pillowing her head in her arms.

“I thought you loved the snow?”

“Oh I do love the way it looks,” Gem said, carding a hand through her hair - she hadn’t tied it back yet, and it cascaded in tangled waves far past her shoulders, “but I don’t like the cold. Or the wind. Or everything being wet all the time. How am I supposed to live-laugh-love under those conditions?”

Ren chuckled, taking a canister of Gem’s favorite tea down from the cupboard to pack away for the trip. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

He slid a plate of food to her in much the same way he’d sent the cup in her direction, and she picked away at it tiredly, pausing occasionally to pass her fingers through her hair again. Some of the tangles were pulled loose. Ren swept a stray hair off the table and set out a second plate for Doc, who would surely smell the breakfast cooking through the open window and make his way inside at some point. A bird swooped inside, a sparrow by the looks of it, and landed on the table beside Gem. She waved it away, and it deposited a button on the table beside her before fluttering back out the way it came.

“You should probably tie your hair back until we leave town,” Ren hummed to her, narrowing the crack in the open window so nothing else could come flying in, “especially since the vex are in the valley.”

“Oh I know,” she sighed, “but it was back all day yesterday - and I think I made the braid too tight. It gave me a headache.”

Ren smirked sympathetically. “Why don’t you ask Doc to braid it for you today?”

“I’d get covered in goat fur.”

“Wouldn’t you get covered in goat fur anyway? I feel like that’s an occupational hazard of living on a goat farm, my dude.”

Gem shoved him lightly, though still managing to tilt him off-balance enough that he nearly dropped the honey-covered spoon he was holding straight into the teapot. He recovered and tapped it into his cup instead.

“I’ll just put it in a ponytail or something,” Gem said, resigned. “What about you? Going for the bed-head style today?”

Ren glanced upwards at the wisps of frizz he could make out floating around his face. He scratched a hand through his hair, wincing at the sharpness of his nails and the pull of a tangle. “Maybe I’ll just cut it?”

“No!” Gem gasped, eyes wide with mock horror. “What am I supposed to braid flowers into during the harvest festival?”

“Uhm? Your own hair?”

“I braid flowers into my hair all the time, Ren. The harvest is special."

“You know, it’s times like these I’m glad my hair is so short,” Doc interrupted from the open back door. He kicked his boots on the side of the house, knocking the mud away before stepping inside to take them off.

“What’s the matter, my brother, scared of putting some wildflowers in your hair?” Ren chuckled at him from behind his cup.

“Of course not,” Doc scoffed. “I would just look so good in them you know, I’d put you both to shame.”

He passed by Gem on his way to his plate, paused as if considering something, and then shook out his jacket. Gem gasped in horror as a dusting of white and brown goat fur wafted onto her shoulders. Doc laughed and dodged her swipe at him, scooting into his chair and spooning some eggs into his mouth like he’d done nothing wrong.

“Respectfully, Doc, you’re the absolute worst,” Gem scowled as she dusted off her shoulder, and there was mischief in her voice as she added, “I will have my revenge.”

“Be careful of the enemies you make, Doc,” Ren chuckled. “Gem’s a force of nature.”

“So am I,” Doc grinned. “I’ve fought a war before, I can do it again.”

“Mm-hmm,” was all Gem returned with, but Ren could see her smiling around her teacup as she took a drink.

“You two almost ready to head out?” Doc changed the topic with an easy smile, settling in to enjoy his breakfast. “Need me to run into town for any last-minute supplies?”

“Nah, I think we’ve got it covered,” Ren said, flipping his pack open with his foot and eyeing the contents. “We’ve got food and drink a-plenty, and there should still be dry firewood up there from the last trip. You sure you don’t wanna come with us, my dude? It’ll give you a chance to loosen up a little.”

“What do you think I’ll be doing with you two out of my hair?” Doc laughed, nudging Gem gently with his elbow. She nudged him back. “Besides, someone’s gotta be here in case Porta starts kidding. Take Vigenere with you, if you think you’ll miss me.”

Gem and Ren exchanged a look that Doc pointedly ignored.

“Uhm, Doc,” Gem began gently, “don’t you think maybe it’s better for your health if you, you know, relax a little?”

“Yeah, you work all the time,” Ren chipped in, trying to sound supportive, or at the very least like he wasn’t being too mothering. “I know you’re all about the grind, but you do a lot. Me and Gem can teach you some of our tricks, maybe have a snowball fight or something. Have a little fun…?”

The more he spoke, the more Doc’s eyebrow arced up as he watched him from down the table. Ren got the feeling he was digging a hole for himself, or like he was spinning wheels in the mud, or maybe both. Doc was fidgeting with the beaded bracelet on his wrist, twisting and untwisting it around one of the fingers of his prosthetic. Ren thought he looked impatient. 

"Don't you have someone else you'd trust to watch the farm for a few days?" Ren asked hesitantly.

Doc scoffed, any trace of his previous good mood vanishing from him like a spark on cold ice. "No. Not while the vex are in the valley."

He stood, clearly signaling an end to the conversation, and grabbed his empty dish. "You two have fun. I promise I'll take it easy while you're gone."

Ren had a hard time believing the promise, but figured debating it was probably a waste of time and breath, so instead he kept wisely silent, his only expressed skepticism manifesting as one more quickly exchanged look with Gem who seemed to be of the same mind. Doc calmly crossed over to the sink, placed his dishes inside like they were made of the baron's finest silver, then grabbed up his boots and swept out the door in the same fluid motion. Ren leaned back in his chair, watching Doc through the window until he disappeared from sight behind the window pane, Vigenere trotting to keep up with him, bleating insistently. 

"Hm. That went well," Ren said flatly. Gem snickered. After a pause he muttered, "I guess I forgot about the vex. Well, I forgot how much he, uhh…"

Ren thought for a moment, and then settled gracelessly on, "how weird he is about them?"

Gem shrugged. "It was worth a try anyway."

"You'd think he'd trust them a bit more, since he talks to them so much." Ren picked at his plate with his fork, poking aside a bit of eggshell he'd accidentally fried into his eggs. "Well, maybe not trust. We can't really trust vex. But he seems on friendly terms with them."

"Well you know, Ren, keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Gem said in a decent mimic of Doc's grim tone of voice. Ren stifled a snicker as she continued, "I’m pretty sure he's got them right where he wants them - which is out of his hair. Speaking of, we should also be getting out of here, if we want to make decent time up the mountain."

They quickly finished what was left of their breakfast and scattered across the house, grabbing last minute necessities and getting dressed for the day. Ren packed a coat and some gloves for when they left the valley. As soon as they passed the snow line, it would be a frigid walk up to the cabin, even for someone like him who coped rather well with the cold. Even more so if they got caught walking at night, and it was looking more and more like they would, given how slow they were to get started.

Doc wasn’t the sort of person to hold grudges - or rather he was, but only for things more important than silly not-arguments over breakfast - so by the time Gem and Ren finally stepped out of the house to face the day, he had one of the goats hitched up to their little sled-wagon, ready to go for their departure. Vigenere was hovering over Doc’s shoulder jealousy while he checked the harness, making sure everything fit comfortably. She would occasionally butt her nose against his shoulder, trying to steal his attention. He shoved her back gently and continued his work. Ren and Gem slung their packs into the little wagon.

“Last chance to change your mind and come with us, Doc,” Gem offered one more time, smiling at him pleasantly. “Speak now or be cursed with the world’s most boring weekend!”

“I’m staying here,” Doc said firmly, ruffling her hair and loosing a few strands from her newly completed braid. She swatted at him indignantly. “You two crazy kids have fun.”

Ren raised an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t we the same age?”

“My soul is older.” Doc shrugged dismissively. “Anyway, have fun, stay safe, bring back tons of food for stew this week. Keep the ribbons on until after dark.” He dropped his voice for the last sentence, more a growl than anything, like he was worried someone would listen. He squeezed both of their shoulders, willing the words to sink in with enough gravity. He reminded them one more time: “The vex are in the valley. Don’t take chances.”

Vigenere butted her head insistently against his back, actually putting some force behind it this time and sending Doc stumbling. “What! What? Alright I’m coming-”

They split, Ren and Gem walking off into the morning while Doc meandered after Vigenere, who seemed fairly pleased with herself for finally getting his attention.

“Two emeralds says she found a hole in the fence she wants him to patch,” Gem said.

“Four emeralds says she made it,” Ren countered.

“You’re on.”

Ren caught sight of a single creeper hiding in the tree line on the edge of the farm property, but otherwise the way was clear. The sky was diamond blue, with ominous clouds on the far horizon where the mountain’s spine scraped the sky, but so far, they stuck there, impaled on the high peaks. There would probably be a blizzard up there, or at the very least falling snow. Ren basked in the sunshine of the valley while he still had it. Their goat, Beaufort, was one of Doc’s tamer ones, and seemed quite content to plod along beside them, pulling the little sled-wagon. A few birds swirled around overhead, one of them swooping close enough to Gem to tickle her arm with its feathers. Gem heaved a melodramatic sigh and, glancing around them to make sure no one else was in sight, began unwinding the ribbon from her hair. Ren watched her struggle with the bow for a moment before stepping behind her to help. They were stopped on the path for barely a handful of seconds before they were walking briskly up the path again. Ren tried his best to stand lookout, scanning the woods for movement and occasionally turning to look behind them as they walked. If Doc were there, he might be proud of their vigilance - after he got over the horror of Gem taking her ribbon out in the first place.

“Have you considered just, you know, wearing your hair down and asking Doc for one of his bracelets?” Ren asked her, breaking the drone of the cart wheels and the plod of footsteps. “It might save you some work, my dude. And stop the headaches.”

“Well, I’ve tried that before,” Gem hummed, running her hands through her newly loosed hair. The handful of swooping birds overhead were joined by a flock of starlings, their cacophony overhead getting loud and grating. The fresh smell of warm earth filled Ren’s nose as the breeze shifted, and just underneath it, something like honeysuckle bloomed. Gem pulled her hair back in a messy bun and tied it in place. “It gets worn out too fast. Or it gets snagged on something and breaks. I snapped it on the fence once.”

She tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear, “I don’t think Doc minded making me new ones all the time, but it was getting a little inconvenient, so I just tie the ribbons in my hair instead.”

Gem clasped her hands behind her back as she walked, smiling brightly. “They look cuter in my hair anyway.”

The birds overhead suddenly scattered as a pair of dark shapes swooped down among them, a blur of winter gray. A tree nearby the path swayed as Cub landed in the topmost branches, circled briefly by Scar who landed a bit less gracefully on a branch below him. The pair of vex roosted there, vulturous in their watch as Ren and Gem passed underneath them. Ren was suddenly aware of his pulse in his throat, quickening with the spike of panic that lanced through him. He stepped closer to Gem, who had gone stiff and silent. He wanted to whisper something, words of encouragement maybe, or some other acknowledgement of the vex’s horrific timing, but his mouth was dry. All he could think was the vex must have been drawn here for a reason, and that they were watching them. Ren could feel their eyes burning holes in him, and his ribbon felt heavy and tight in his hair. 

The tree creaked and rocked, raining twigs and pine needles as Cub and Scar took off into the sky again. They circled, seemed to find their bearings, and then flew off, sweeping low over the treetops. Ren thought he heard Scar’s voice laughing about something, too distant to make out the words.

“Oh. My. Goodness,” Gem sighed loudly, letting out the breath she must have been holding through the whole encounter. Ren put a hand to his chest, like he could will his heartbeat to slow. “I mean of course they swooped by just then, why wouldn’t they? How- I mean- just-! How very kind of them to check in on us right then, you know?”

“Yeah,” Ren finally managed to find his voice again, cracked and worried as it was. He cleared his throat. “That shaved a few years off my lifespan, my dude. That was scary.”

“Oh, just a little,” Gem huffed, slipping her skinning knife back into its sheath on her belt - which Ren only just realized she’d unsheathed in the first place. The absurdity of it ripped a laugh from him, overly-loud and filled with nerves.

“What the heck were you gonna do with that?!”

“I don’t know!” Gem threw her hands in the air indignantly, and Ren flinched a step away from her to avoid getting hit. “Defend myself? Threaten them maybe?"

"Or poke your own eye out."

"Oh, and what were you going to do if they flew down here," Gem crossed her arms, which Ren was sure was supposed to look angry, but looked a lot more like she was hugging herself for comfort, "stutter them into submission?"

"Beg for mercy maybe?" Ren said, a bit too truthfully for his own comfort. "Run?"

"And just leave me?!"

"Well I’d expect you to run too!"

“We can’t outrun flying vex on foot, Ren!”

Ren threw his hands in the air, or shrugged, or really just generally flailed in exasperation, because he didn’t know what else to say. He just knew he was scared, and sort of shaky, like he’d just gotten done sprinting a mile. Uphill. While being chased by bears. During a lightning storm. Yeah, that sounded about right.

Gem suddenly giggled beside him. He gave her a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised, and she said, “It could’ve been worse.”

“Well, yeah. You could’ve still had your ribbon off.”

“No, not that,” Gem smirked. “Just imagine if Doc had come with us.”

Ren barked a laugh, “Oh no.”

“See? Could’ve been worse.”

Ren shook his head, but he had to agree. He didn’t know exactly how, but panic on Doc certainly would’ve made things worse. That, and the I-told-you-so of not taking the ribbons off while there were vex in the valley would’ve been insufferable. Maybe it was good that Doc chose to stay home like he always did.

Ren looked up and into the distance where Scar and Cub had flown off to, barely making them out as a pair of dark points on the horizon that wheeled and circled. He noticed they weren’t heading towards town, but they didn’t seem to be rising out of the valley either. Instead, they combed over the woods and fields in cyclical motions, making their way around the rim in a slow, methodical scan. He thought of vultures again, scavengers circling, searching. He thought of Doc’s conversation with them the day before, of he and False worrying about a rogue vex in the valley. He thought of Cub, flexing the claws on his wings and his self-assured statement that he’d take care of it - whatever it was. Ren hoped they dealt with it and left as soon as possible.

Chapter Text

There was something… vaguely indescribable about the mountains when compared to the valley. Ren felt… tall, like he was hanging off the side of the world. He wasn’t, but it felt like it. His feet were firmly planted on the ground - crunching through a dusting of snow, in fact. Even still, he felt like a strong wind could pluck him off the side of the mountain and toss him back into the valley again. The angle they were walking on wasn’t steep. It was a jagged path upwards that wobbled and plateaued and curled past the snow line. He wasn’t in danger of losing his footing, he wasn’t standing on a cliff’s edge. There were swells of trees scraping the sky with their tallest branches, pin-straight, and only one or two of them leaned precariously at an odd angle, knocked by wind and heavy snow. The feeling persisted regardless - the drop-hang feeling of being so much closer to the sky than he was used to, where the air was thin and crisp and clear, and the world seemed fragile as a glassy lake; still and shallow on the surface but deceptively deep, like falling into the void.

If Gem was bothered by the climb upwards, she didn’t show it, outside of the general strain of a persistent walk uphill. Before she lived in the valley, she was raised on the mountains. She’d told Ren stories of her and Doc running these woods when they were younger, of hiding and hunting and fending for themselves, of mapping the spine of the world with their footprints. She made it sound fantastical; living like robber-rogues, rugged and precarious. Ren mostly thought it was a bit dizzying and tiring, being so close to the sky all the time, though the idea of living feral in the woods certainly had its appeal. 

Ren wasn’t raised in the valley or on the mountains. His earliest memories were of dense forests and rolling fields on flat lowlands, where the highest point on the horizon was the tallest tree he could climb. His mind still bent over the height of the mountains when he stood on them, and looking down at the valley from so high was something he had trouble comprehending. He would look at the lush grass below, the stands of trees and the patchwork patterns knitted on the countryside, and be possessed by the overwhelming feeling that if he just walked a few steps forward, he could reach out and touch it. Then he would see a familiar house, or a jagged line of what must be fence posts, and be startlingly reminded that no, if he walked forward a few steps he would still be hours away from the valley. As many hours as it’d taken to hike up here in the first place; maybe a little less if he could find a ledge to fall off of. 

“We’re almost there, I think,” Gem called, shoving her free hand in her coat pocket as she trudged up the rise they currently meandered on. She held a stick in her other hand and swung it boredly at saplings and bushes as they passed, knocking loose puffs of snow. “Or at least, we better be. I’m getting cold.”

Ren trudged a little faster to catch up with her, patting Beaufort’s side as he came around him. The goat shook out his fur, unbothered. “Do you want my coat, Gem? I feel fine.”

“Oh to be as hot blooded as you.” She let out a long sigh, her breath freezing and curling in a cloud in front of her face. “No, keep your coat on. Doc will kill me if you catch a cold up here and can’t help on the farm for the next week.”

Ren chuckled. “But I’d get to lay around in bed all day drinking soup, which sounds like a win to me, my dude.”

“You’re just lazy.”

“Hey, I work hard! I just wish I didn’t.”

Gem rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling. “What would you even do all day if you didn’t have farm work to do?”

“Well, I’d have more time to bother you.”

“Of course.”

“Maybe I’d convince False to teach me some cool fighting tricks?” Ren hummed thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the tree-line like the standing woods could give him ideas. “She’s pretty sword-proficient, right?”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe?”

“I mean, I’ve never seen her use a sword, just threaten to,” Gem pointed out, “though I think during the war she was called something - Queen of Hearts, maybe?”

“That doesn’t sound very sword-maiden-y.”

“Maybe she was stabbing them? The hearts, I mean.” Gem nudged him in the ribs with the stick, feigning a stab. Ren swiped at it but she’d already snapped it away. “I mean, she’s got to be at least a little scary if she could go make deals with the baron, right?”

“Or maybe the baron just isn’t as scary a guy as everyone thinks he is?” Ren said disbelievingly, mostly for the sake of argument. He knew the baron at the very least had to be scarier than the vex, if he could order them around. Or… well… he figured as much, anyway. Gem considered for a moment, swiping her stick at a clod of snow and missing. The breeze kicked up around them, and Ren raised his shoulders against the chill.

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” Gem said finally. “I’ve never met the baron. I think Doc’s met him once maybe? I feel like he told me he did one time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was before you came to the valley though.” Gem tilted her head to the side, searching for a more precise memory and coming up short. Finally, she shrugged. “We’ll have to ask him next time we see him.”

“I doubt he’ll talk about it.” Ren yawned, and he glanced up at the sky, trying to gauge the time. He figured there was still an hour or two until nightfall, but the day had become increasingly overcast as they’d walked, and it was getting harder to tell.

“Oh, no, he definitely won’t talk about it,” Gem agreed, giving another swipe with her stick and this time hitting a small evergreen bush beside the trail. Snow sprayed in every direction, a finely powdered glitter-dust that shimmered as it floated to the ground. “But we could still get a vague one-word answer! Or some body language cues that imply there’s more going on than the surface level. Or some other weird Doc-ism that might as well be talking about it, if you squint really hard.”

“I didn’t know you were fluent in Doc-isms,” Ren chuckled, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“I’m fluent in Ren-isms, too,” Gem smiled at him pleasantly, her hands clasped behind her back in that innocent, disarming sort of way she always did when she was thinking about some kind of mischief. It struck Ren that he was passably fluent in Gem-isms, if that was a thing someone could actually be. She tossed the stick she’d been holding, and Ren tracked its arc to a pile of bushes it landed in. When he looked back, Gem was running up the trail at a full sprint.

“Last one to the cabin has to unload the cart!”

“Wh--! Hey!” Ren sprang off after her, only belatedly remembering to call Beaufort to follow - the goat stubbornly kept its plodding pace up the rise, flicking an ear boredly. Gem sprinted past a few gangly trees and Ren lost sight of her for a second, before rounding the same place and watching the rise they’d been climbing plateau out into a snowy field circled by trees. At the far end of the clearing, nestled against a pair of massive pines, was a tiny cabin, so small as to nearly go overlooked, if you didn’t know what exactly you were looking for. The snow here drifted a bit, and it tugged at Ren’s ankles as he plowed after Gem, who was gaining distance between them. Gem was quick, and she knew how to run in the snow without slipping or turning her ankle. Meanwhile Ren felt like every other step he was nearly losing his feet. Once his boot came down on a patch of ice hidden beneath the powder, and he skated forward, nearly slipping off his feet entirely, before he managed to balance again and regain his stride. He set his eyes on Gem’s back, on the bright color of her hair, and dug his boots into the ground. He was grinning, his stride was getting longer, following nearby her footprints. He thought the ground between them might be closing. There was a tugging on the back of Ren’s mind. He could run faster. There was a swelling in his chest, past the stinging cold of the mountain air in his lungs, a burning right around where he thought his heart was. He could run faster. There was a tugging. The top of his head itched uncomfortably, and he felt like there was a string pulling him backwards, gentle but persistent. He could run faster if it weren’t for that pulling him backwards. He could run faster-

Gem slid to a stop, slamming both hands on the door of the cabin. “I win!”

Ren slowed his run to a tired jog well before the cabin door, doubling over with his hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. “That- that wasn’t- fair!”

Gem laughed at him breathlessly. “Did I say it would be a fair race?”

To his credit, Ren really did try to come up with something witty to return with, but between catching his breath and how uncomfortably cold his lungs felt, he had trouble finding something. Instead he meandered inside the cabin while she went to fetch Beaufort, content to put off unloading their supplies for as long as he could.

The cabin was a tiny, one-room affair, barely big enough for two people to stand in, much less live in. There was a single cast-iron stove in one corner of the room, a makeshift cot big enough for two people to sleep on if you squeezed close enough, and a hand-woven rug which served as the only dash of color in the otherwise gray-brown interior. There was one window on the east side of the cabin that was so small and frosted over that the light it cast on the room was thin and pale. It made him think of crescent moonlight: silvered and dim, and never quite enough to see by.

Ren loaded some of the wood stacked by the door into the stove and got it burning. Heat radiated into the room, and Ren stripped off his gloves to drop onto the tiny square table shoved against the window. The table was draped with some kind of animal fur to serve as a tablecloth, and stacked in the center were two plates, two cups, and two bowls ready for use - all handmade, all bearing the unsteady chips and gouges of shaky fingers. The first time Ren had seen them, Doc had apologized and bashfully remarked he’d made the little dining set while he was learning how to be left-handed. Gem had insisted they were too sentimental to replace. Ren didn’t mind either way, as long as they didn’t give him splinters, and for as many times as he’d used them they hadn’t yet. There were little knife-marks on the windowsill with carved initials and dates on the wall right beside them, which Ren thought was a bit redundant, because they were all for Gem, measuring her height. The dates didn’t mean much to him - it was all month and day, with no year attached - but Gem must have been young when they started, because the first mark was barely chest-height. Gem knocked on the door, paused, and then opened it cautiously, careful not to hit Ren with it.

“Gosh, I always forget how small it is in here.” She stepped inside, squeezing between Ren and the stove to stand on the rug in the center of the room. “I mean, I know it’s small? But I always remember it being bigger than it is.”

“You know, we outta drag Doc up here sometime and build something a little more comfortable.” Ren hummed, tracing the walls with his gaze and trying to imagine the changes they could make. “We could just make an addition, you know? Keep this as a bedroom but maybe put in a bunk bed? Have the doorway open into a kitchen and living room, add a shed for tools storage… I mean, we’re here every month.”

Gem huffed out a breath, surveying the tiny space before saying, “Yeah, but it’s got so many memories like this. It’s a bit nostalgic, isn’t it?”

Ren shrugged. He really didn’t mind either way; it wasn’t his cabin, after all, nor were they his memories to be nostalgic over. He made his way outside to Beaufort and got started unloading, shivering now that he’d cooled down from the run. Looking up at the sky again, the slate-gray gave him no indication of time or weather other than it was cloudy out, but he’d never been good at telling the weather. He thought it looked cold, but it also felt cold, so that stood to reason. By the time he made it back inside, the tiny stove had managed to warm up the cabin enough for Gem to shed her coat and gloves, and she stacked their supplies on the table while he went out to grab the handful of blankets they’d brought up with them. Then he led Beaufort around to the little shelter they’d set up for the goats and tethered him there, out of any wind or snow that might fall - not that the goat would’ve minded much. All of Doc’s goats were bred from mountain stock that called the high ridges home, and they all probably felt comfortable in the snow and chill. Ren looked up at the sky again. He thought maybe it was getting darker? They’d planned to be at the cabin well before sunset, but they had dithered a bit in the morning. He thought he could feel a tugging, like a cord gently holding him back. His limbs itched like he was ready to go running out across the snow, but for the feeling of being held in place, an odd push and pull, back and forth, uncomfortable. 

Beaufort snorted beside him. Ren blinked at the goat for a moment, before curling his fingers into fake claws and doing his best impression of a growl. The goat regarded him with something like disdain, if goats could feel that sort of thing, altogether unimpressed. Ren shrugged and scratched uncomfortably at his arm, frowning at how blunt his fingernails were. Hmm. Maybe he was just imagining things.

Ren meandered back to the cabin, grabbing a few logs for the stove as he went. He made a mental note of how low the woodpile was getting and reminded himself to chop some more tomorrow. He put his hand on the doorknob and paused, tracing his gaze across the snowdrift that had pillowed itself by the window. He eased the door open quietly and grabbed a fistful of snow. Gem was too busy getting a kettle boiling on the stove to notice, not until he was dropping the snow down the back of her shirt anyway.

Chapter Text

“How are you feeling, Ren?” Gem yawned boredly, doodling stick figures in the frost on the window.

“Well, tired from the hike up here,” Ren answered, standing in the center of the room and taking inventory of himself. His legs were a bit sore. He had a scrape on his knee where he’d stumbled at some point, but it was already healing. His back had long stopped aching from yesterday, and he stretched, reveling in the painlessness of it. “But I feel, uh, fine?”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s getting pretty late.”

“I did notice that.”

He looked at the window, and her reflection raised its eyebrows at him.

“I still feel fine though.”

“Hm,” was all she replied with.

He… did feel fine. The ribbon was starting to feel a bit more annoying though. Tugging him backwards, it felt like, with increasing regularity. A lead he could feel tightening as he walked towards its end.

He couldn’t see the sky; it was still too overcast. He wished he could see the sky clearly. It would be a little more reassuring if he could. Less feelings and impressions, more timekeeping concrete. But the clouds were too thick, and Gem was fogging up the glass with her breath to make way for another doodle, anyway.

Gem was laying on the cot swaddled in blankets, trying her best to keep warm. Ren had his back leaned against it, rereading one of the two books they kept here. This one was a collection of nursery rhymes and folktales, the pages a bit faded and crisp with age. He had about half the book memorized by now, for how many times he’d read it, but he had nothing else to do so he read it again. The floor was cold even with the stove burning, but currently Ren thought the chill was sort of soothing, so he endured it. He and Gem had covered the window with a blanket to better keep the heat in and it worked… a bit. Sometimes the walls were just too cold and thin for the wind outside, especially at night when the temperature on the mountain dropped. During the height of winter, ice would collect inside the walls even with the stove burning at all hours. Ren was grateful it was still summer. It’d started snowing earlier, and the wind had picked up a bit. According to Gem, there was no storm coming. He had to take her word for it. Weather wasn’t something he was particularly good at reading.

“Hey Ren?”

“Hm?”

“How are you feeling?”

Ren laid the book in his lap and thought for a moment. Where his back touched the cot, he could feel goosebumps prickling his skin.

“I feel warm? And itchy,” he settled on finally, shifting positions on the floor uncomfortably, “but only kind-of? Under my skin.”

Gem stuck her tongue out and shuddered, probably trying to imagine what it felt like.

“Well, you asked," Ren laughed.

“I did ask,” Gem agreed, “you didn’t have to say it itched under your skin though. We could’ve stopped at itchy.”

Ren shrugged. “It’s not that bad right now anyway.”

He flipped open to a random story in the back of the book and resumed reading.

Ren didn’t sleep that night. To his credit, he tried to. He curled up next to Gem, making himself as small as possible on the tiny cot, which was a problem all on its own because Ren was generally not a small person, and he was feeling larger by the minute. Larger than his skin should allow for, honestly. He closed his eyes and drifted into something like a doze, his mind swimming dangerously close to sleep. He was itchy, though. Itchy wasn’t a great word for it, but it was the closest thing he had. Mostly it was on his arms and along his spine, crawling like ants under his skin, like something was scratching under the surface, tickling his nerve endings. It felt a bit like when he’d been running with Gem earlier, and beneath his scalp started crawling, except it had spread. It made him want to move or to rub or scratch the offending limbs, but none of the fidgeting actually worked to solve the problem. It was only a temporary comfort, and he only felt worse after the second or two of relief.

He had thought it was a mild enough thing to sleep through, but every time he felt himself start to sink into something like unconsciousness, he’d feel a prick of pain, like an itch unscratched for too long, and he’d jolt awake again. Then he’d tell himself to rest, because even if his mind wasn’t exactly sleepy, his body was definitely tired after the hike, and he’d worm his way back down towards unconsciousness again, shifting positions to ease the crawling a little, his back pressed against Gem’s like feeling the pressure would help. It happened again, a little twinge of pain, like a pin pressed in his skin, keeping him awake. His leg twitched uncontrollably, and he felt the itch crawl beneath his skin down his thigh like the movement alone was making it spread.

Ren turned to a slightly less comfortable position and tried again. 

Around midnight he gave up, and as soon as he stood on his feet, he felt the overwhelming urge to go outside. To run outside, impulsively. It washed over him, even though his hair was tied back in a ribbon still. Maybe that was why his skin was crawling so much? The ribbon. But if he untied it now, well… it was the only thing keeping him together right now, he was pretty sure. So he should keep it in. Gem was asleep. And the vex were in the valley. He should keep the ribbon in. 

He walked outside barefoot, because the compulsion was a bit too strong for him to wait on grabbing boots and coat. The snowing had stopped, but there was still a bit of wind. The night was bright. Moonlight reflected off the snow and misted shadows on a silvered landscape. It was cold. He knew it was cold, but it was a bit hard to feel past the overwhelming relief of the itching having finally stopped. Standing in the moonlight, in the cold, Ren felt soothed like a burn under cold water, but there was still something tugging him back, push-pull. He wanted to step forward. He wanted to run. His toes curled in the snow, and he wanted to sprint and tumble and roll in it - but he instead stood rooted in place, tugged backwards, gently, a little ribbon tethering him, a chain and collar snapping taught as he reached its end, deceptively fragile.

Ren reached up to the ribbon in his hair and gave one of the ends a tug.

The door to the cabin slammed open, startling him out of the fog he hadn’t even known had settled over his thoughts. He spun to face the noise, and realized he was a lot farther from the cabin than he’d thought he was. When had he started walking? There was a clear track in the snow leading from his feet to the door, where Gem was halfway through undoing the knot on her own ribbon. They made eye contact across the distance, and she froze.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoed.

“I thought you…” Gem trailed off, regarding him with something like concern. She finished untying her hair, and held the ribbon in her hands delicately, like she wasn’t sure what to do with it, or with Ren either for that matter. Finally she said, “Do you want to go?”

Ren looked up at the sky. The moon was big, but not quite full. Still, it felt soothing standing underneath it, burns under cold water. Or maybe just an itch under cold water. He wasn’t burning yet.

“I mean, we don’t have to,” Ren offered finally, and the words were difficult. He was starting to feel vaguely foggy again, more emotions and reactions than anything resembling coherency. “I was just feeling kind of…”

A groan sounded in the woods somewhere, a zombie wandering in the dark.

“Well, if you’re not going, come back inside. You’ll catch your death out here - or catch something’s attention.”

“Right.” Ren felt, well, a bit confused. It was starting to sink in that he did feel cold. His feet hurt from it, and so did his hands. How long had he even been standing out here? Logically he knew if he kept standing out in the snow, he’d probably get frostbite or something. He’d never had frostbite before, but he’d seen it on other people, and it looked pretty upsetting - but he also knew as soon as he walked in the cabin, he’d start feeling that itch under his skin again, and at the moment he sort of preferred the idea of frostbite to that.

“Ren, we can go now if you want,” Gem smiled at him kindly, “I mean, I get it.”

Ren could feel the ribbon in his hair, half undone, the long strands of it tickling the back of his neck. He could go. He could run. There was a strong, familiar something telling him to go run out into the snow and not look back, and something gently stronger rooting him in place. The ribbon. But Gem looked tired. He’d woken her up, and she’d walked all day just like he had, and if he went now, her weekend would get a lot longer. Well, that sort of settled it for him really. About the only thing more important than the thing pulling him out into the snow was his family.

“No, it’s fine,” Ren said, and he picked his way back to the cabin on cold, sore feet. “I can wait.”

“Are you sure? The vex won’t find us up here.”

Ren glanced at the moon one more time. It was big, but it wasn’t full. It would be full tomorrow though.

“Yeah, I can wait.”

Ren laid on the cot beside Gem and didn’t sleep. She kept the ribbon out of her hair, and Ren watched the ceiling as moss, long dead, started to slowly green in the woodwork. He wondered if he laid beside her long enough, if the green would creep over his arms and legs, and bloom flowers from his skin. It was an odd, delirious sort of thought, driven by the itching under his skin. He thought maybe things growing on his skin would itch more than he currently was, though at least it would itch somewhere he could actually scratch it. Outside, he could hear overly loud, something walking through the snow. He thought it was probably a deer, and he’d love to chase it. He’d love to run out into the snow and keep running. He’d love to-

Ren’s hand was on the door to the cabin, and he blinked at it dumbly, trying to figure out when he’d stood up and walked over and put his hand on the door. The only thing that stopped him opening it was Gem’s ribbon tied around the doorknob. He couldn’t say it shocked him, but he felt a jolt of something that brought him back to his senses.

He always hated the night before the full moon. 

Ren wandered back to the cot and sat down, his head in his hands, his mind foggy, his skin itching.

“Stay,” he muttered to himself, feeling a bit stupid, but not really knowing what else to do. At least it was less demeaning than telling himself to heel. Gem shifted and muttered gibberish not-words in her sleep. Something in the ceiling shifted, blooming, and there was a smell like wild roses prickling the inside of Ren’s nose. It was going to be a long night.

Ren only knew the sun rose because the delirious itching finally, mercifully, stopped. At some point in the night, he laid down on the floor with his face near the crack in the door, taking some relief from the cold air radiating onto his face. There was moonlight he could see as well, and he watched it like it could move and speak, like a prisoner in a cell waiting on their monthly meal from a particularly cruel jailor. The sun rose, the itching stopped, but the bound up feeling of the ribbon in his hair persisted. It made him feel like he took up too much space in his own body, bloated and swollen and uncomfortable. In spite of himself, he whined, a high-pitched and keening noise that dragged from the back of his throat, awkwardly human.

Gem shifted on the bed, and the noise seemed overly loud - like most noises did at this point. Human ears weren’t meant to hear this well. Every sound was a lance, quick and jagged and much more than it should be. He’d let the fire die down because the crackling was slowly driving him insane, and the frost on the window had crept across the windowsill, warring with the flowering moss that radiated from Gem like a pocket of spring. She sat up on the cot, and after a few minutes getting her bearings, or maybe watching him pitifully - his back was turned to her so he couldn’t tell - she got up from the cot and laid beside him on the floor. Or rather, she tried to. The cabin was a bit too small. Ren only managed to lay on the floor like he was because his knees were curled up under the table. She laid with her head next to the stove and her feet propped against the cot, one arm extended to rub circles into his back. The whole thing was awkward and uncomfortable for the both of them, but there was solidarity there.

“Rough night?” Gem whispered tiredly, and Ren could have cried for how thankful he was that she was speaking quietly.

“I don’t want to move.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

“The cabin smells nice,” Ren said mournfully, burying his face in his hands like it could keep the smell out.

Gem laughed, “Sorry about that. But I thought just in case you wandered off I shouldn’t put the ribbon back on.”

“Yeah, no, it makes sense.” He sighed and flipped over to lay on his back, trying his darndest not to be melodramatic and finding it a harder fight than he thought it would. “It’s just a lot.”

Gem yawned and stretched tiredly, tracing the patterns of growing things on the ceiling with her eyes. He could tell, because everything she looked at seemed to grow just slightly, like it was pulled towards her presence. Some of the flowers began to wither, replaced by less aromatic mushrooms and lichens. Ren rubbed his face like he could itch the smells out of his nose.

“Did you sleep at all last night, Ren?”

“No.”

Gem sighed. “We should’ve just gone ahead and went for it. Sure you would’ve been running wild for the next few days, but it would’ve saved you a bit of trouble.”

Ren pressed his palms to his eyes and shook his head. “The vex are in the valley.”

“They won’t find us up here. They have no reason to come this far into the mountains. And even if they did,” Gem interrupted him when he opened his mouth to speak, “it’s too cold and windy for them to fly after us, and we run way faster.”

Ren took a moment to consider her words before saying, “Doc told us not to take any chances.”

She sighed defeatedly. “Yeah, he did.”

“And he would know - about when we should be taking chances, I mean.”

“Yeah…”

They laid on the floor in silence, Gem watching the ceiling bloom, and Ren wondering distantly if he tried to sleep during the day what kind of success he would have. The more he thought about it though, the more he thought he didn’t feel tired. Not really. Logically he must be. He hadn’t slept, and it’d been a long hike up the mountain yesterday - but outside of feeling generally emotionally miserable after the bad night, he felt awake. He might even feel good, just as soon as he committed to crawling off the floor and greeting the morning.

Gem eventually made the decision for him, standing and brushing the wrinkles out of her clothes. The floral embroidery looked much more vibrant with real flowers slowly pushing through the stitching, though Gem would be annoyed with them later, when she was forced to resew seams weakened by withering stems.

“Alright, I’ll get some tea going I guess. Unless you’d rather I go gather the firewood this morning?”

Ren moped on the floor for a few more seconds before groaning and getting to his feet. “No, I’ve got it.”

Gem laughed mischievously and reached up to pat him once on the head. “Good dog.”

Ren smacked her hand away. “You’re the worst.”

She simply smiled at him, pleasant and warm, folding her hands behind her back. “I know.”

Ren chopped wood. It was a chore he did every time they went to the cabin. In fact, he wondered sometimes if Gem was even capable of getting the firewood herself. Well, he knew she was physically capable as far as strength went. While he’d never seen her swing an ax, it wasn’t exactly a hard thing to learn. Maybe with her ribbon on, she could. Without it though…

Ren glanced towards the cabin, where poppies and cornflowers were emerging from the fresh snowfall like the living dead under bright moonlight. There was some sort of ivy curling around the doorframe, and dozens of bluebirds and chickadees danced through the branches of the overhanging spruce trees. The spruce trees themselves seemed to have grown a bit since they’d arrived, which was a feat already, since they towered over every other tree surrounding their glade, coaxed towards the sky every time Gem slept in the cabin nestled beneath their boughs. A pair of foxes skated across the snow, chittering as they wrestled with each other. As long as Ren didn’t move, they probably wouldn’t notice him. As long as the wind didn’t shift.

Ren brought his mind back to chopping wood, splintering logs with every ax fall. He liked working on the day of the full moon. He felt… stronger. The ribbon was still firmly in place in his hair; he felt that persistent tug whenever he moved, restraining him. It would get worse as the day went on, until it couldn’t hold him anymore. There would be too much of him to tie down. He could feel it under his skin, not an itch, but a swell, like his skin was too small for him.

He carved through another log.

For now, he felt strong, if a little restrained. He figured if someone gave him the materials, he could raise a house all on his own the day the moon was full. Only during the day though. Only in the sunlight.

Ren was warm, like snowmelt. The sun was warm, but the mountain was cold. He should feel cold. He didn’t have a coat on or gloves, but he felt warm. Granted, he was working, chopping wood, but it didn’t feel like the warmth of movement. It was just… there. Like the cold on the mountaintop couldn’t really reach him anymore. He felt warm and his mind felt sort of foggy. Thoughts came and went more like emotions than anything structured. He thought it smelled nice out here, with the breeze running through. He thought he could hear every individual bird landing on perches in the tree overhead. Beaufort shifted his weight in the pen nearby, and he could hear the grass curling and breaking under the goat’s hooves. He split another log, shatteringly loud by contrast.

If he listened hard enough, he thought he could hear Gem working inside the cabin - the occasional scrape or knock of her shifting things around, the kettle on the stove starting to boil. She was humming something under her breath, a song he couldn’t really place, but which sounded distinctly familiar. He split another log. If he thought about it hard enough, he might be able to identify it, but right now it was just cursory sounds knocking against the mire of fog in his head. The breeze shifted, and he heard the foxes in the field suddenly scatter as they became aware of him, barking warnings to each other. 

The distinct call of a raven croaked at him from overhead, murmuring observations about the mountainside. If it flew away, he should follow it. That made sense. He split another log. A couple more ravens joined the first in the sky, while one fluttered down to land nearby him. The two of them looked at each other, the raven trying to puzzle him out while he quietly acknowledged its familiar presence. Well, probably not this raven in particular, but he’d run with them before. They were valuable partners to have, after all. It seemed to come to some conclusion about him and lifted off into the sky again, wheeling overhead. He was brushed with the thought of a nursery rhyme, sorrow and mirth, but couldn’t hold onto it long enough to remember it properly.

“Ren, the tea’s ready!” Gem called, once again breaking through the fog he hadn’t really noticed had clouded his thoughts until she was brushing it away. He became aware of his ribbon tying his hair back, uncomfortably tight, anchoring him in place. “Make sure you feed Beaufort before you- jeez Ren! Did you chop down the whole forest?”

Ren looked down at the rather impressive wood pile he’d made his way through. Hm… well… hm. Yeah he probably should’ve stopped working a while ago. At least they would have wood ready for next month?

“I guess I wasn’t? Paying attention?” he said awkwardly, nudging his boot against the nearest log like he couldn’t really process it was sitting there. “I’ll get it stacked.”

“Right, thanks, you do that.” Gem watched him for a long moment, and then said again, “Make sure you feed Beaufort before you come inside.”

“Right. Feed… the goat,” Ren said more to himself than Gem, trying to cement it in his memory somehow. It was getting… really hard to focus. One of the ravens had lost interest in him and was angling off westward. He really should follow it. “You might want to, uh, check on me in a few minutes.”

“Yeah, I was going to do that anyway,” Gem smirked at him. “Stack the wood. Feed the goat. Get some tea.”

“Stack the wood, feed the goat, get some tea.”

“Great.”

“Sure.”

Gem laughed brightly. “I believe in you Ren, you’ve got this.”

He wasn’t entirely sure he did, but he took her word for it.

It took him too long to stack the firewood against the cabin. He kept getting distracted. Mechanical tasks were… difficult. He needed something engaging, or he’d get lost. Foggy. But he got it done. Feeding Beaufort was a bit more his speed. He had to concentrate on measuring feed, challenging himself to not spill anything, even though his hands were starting to feel clumsy. He carried the feed to Beaufort’s pen. The goat snorted angrily at him as he approached, lowering his head warningly to brandish his horns. Ren was a little conflicted about it. On the one hand, Beaufort shouldn’t be scared of him; they had walked all the way up the mountain without incident. On the other, he’d always sort of wondered what fighting one of Doc’s goats would actually be like. Horns and hooves were a problem, but his teeth were sharper. The thought swam in his head, more an entertaining impulse than anything concrete, an idea of teeth and fur.

Beaufort butted his head towards him, knocking his horns against the fenced enclosure with a loud slam that nearly made Ren jump out of his skin. He fumbled the feed he was carrying, only just managing not to drop it. Beaufort bleated at him warningly. He was suddenly very aware of his ribbon, holding his sense of self in place, a sense of self that kept floating off only to yank on its tether and meander back again.

“Eheh… sorry my dude.” Ren dropped the feed in the pen, careful not to catch his nails on the cloth of the bag. Gem would be upset if she had to mend yet another hole he’d managed to tear through something. Beaufort brandished his horns in Ren’s direction again, and Ren backed away, his hands up like he could somehow convince the goat he meant it no harm. Then he waited, his head swimming, trying to remember what he was doing. A knocking sound caught his attention. Gem looked out at him from the tiny window in the cabin, an eyebrow raised.

“Right… tea.”

“Okay, so!” Gem clapped her hands together. “Let’s go over the plan.”

“Right,” Ren hummed distractedly, “the plan. The same plan we have every time?”

“Yes, but every time we assume you’ll just remember the plan without going through it first, you forget it,” Gem pointed out, and she leaned back on the stool tucked against the table, letting the front legs come off the ground precariously, “so we’re going to go through it now, before the sun sets completely and you forget, like, everything.”

“Right.”

Ren was having trouble focusing, and he would’ve pointed that out if it weren’t so obvious. As the afternoon had crept into evening, he’d gotten more restless, and now he found himself pacing on the center rug - which, given how small the cabin was, left him nearly turning in circles. He could only take about two steps before he had to change direction again to complete the loop. It didn’t help that he was deeply uncomfortable. His shirt was off, because his skin was starting to itch again, and if he had to live with the fabric clinging to his skin for a moment longer, he thought he might just go ahead and scratch his skin off - and with how sharp his nails had gotten, that was well within his skill set currently. But he already had one nasty scar decorating his ribs, and adding his own claw marks to the mix didn’t sound appealing, so the shirt was off - which was fine anyway, because he was also incredibly hot. A glance at his reflection in the window showed him his face was flushed, and he felt feverish. Outside it was getting darker, but the telling streaks of colorful sunset told him it wasn’t night yet. Not technically. No, he’d know when it was night, well and truly. He’d know.

“So, we’re going hunting,” Gem told him, and it was hard to focus on her words, but he tried his hardest. Her heartbeat sounded louder than her voice did at times, the two noises warring with each other. It was an even and slow noise, a muffled drumbeat. Distracting. Though he did prefer it to the panicked quickness he’d heard the first few times they’d come up for a hunting trip. “What are we hunting for?”

“We’re hunting for, uhm,” Ren shook his head, it was the same thing every time, “deer, right?”

“What kind?”

Oh boy.

“Uh…”

“Brown deer,” Gem clarified for him, “specifically. Only brown deer.”

“Right, only brown deer.”

“Nothing else.”

“Nothing else.”

“So, Ren, what are we hunting for?”

“Brown deer.”

She smiled at him.

“If you say ‘good dog’ I will maul you, Gem.”

Her smile broke into a laugh, and the legs of her stool clacked loudly on the ground as she stopped leaning, “I’d like to see you try!”

Ren stopped walking, feeling stiff. He knew she was messing with him, mischievous. And something in the back of his mind, the vague persistence of common sense, said fighting her was a bad idea. Either because he would lose or because he would win he couldn’t tell, but it was a bad idea. Still, she was challenging him, and he was about twice her size, or he felt like he was, and he was all sharp edges and sharp teeth and bright eyes. And she was just smiling. 

“Don’t actually maul me please,” Gem said calmly, like she’d dealt with this before - and she probably had. He just couldn’t really remember. Everything was a bit too foggy. “Wait ‘till we’re outside first. I don’t wanna break anything.”

Ren balled his hands into fists, and then smoothed them back through his hair like he could soothe himself. His ribbon was still in, so his hands tugged awkwardly at his tied back hair instead. The movement, predictably, made everything itch under his skin. His nails were uncomfortably sharp when he scratched, so he tried not to. Tried. 

“Sun’s down,” Gem pointed out to him, “but the moon isn’t up yet.”

“I’m going to die, Gem.” He muttered distractedly, but with a decent amount of certainty behind it.

“Well, yeah. But probably not today. Today you just feel like you will,” she reassured him. “You’ll feel so much better in a few minutes. But until then - what are we doing tonight?”

“Going hunting.”

“What are we hunting for?”

“Brown deer.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Perfect,” Gem praised him, smiling contentedly to herself. “We’ll get the hang of this eventually, Ren, I promise.”

Ren shook his head. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were getting the hang of. He knew this was a routine, he knew they did it every full moon, he knew he should be used to it. He really, really wasn’t. He gave in to the need to scratch his arm, only regretting it when the sharpness of his nails broke his skin. It bled less than he expected it to, so probably the scrape wasn't as nasty as it looked. Still, he shouldn't do it again.

“I’m going outside,” he grumbled, already turning towards the door. “I’m… I can’t-” he huffed out an annoyed breath, “I feel like I’m going to tear my skin off.”

“Well, you probably are, figuratively speaking,” Gem agreed with him, and he thought she was trying to be funny, but he was a little past humor right now. In the same motion he reached for the door, she tugged the ribbon out of his hair.

It felt like a dam breaking. Ren stepped out the door with a lightness and a rush that left him nearly breathless, straining against a lead all day, all week, all month, that had finally snapped. He spilled onto the snow, unable to balance on two feet, a thousand sharp angles in his insides, every itch under his skin making a break from his body like it could turn him inside out. He was hot and feverish and he was screaming in discomfort, but the moon was peeking over the far horizon, full and magnificent, and it soothed every ache and itch like he’d been tossed in cold water. Muscles stretched and bones snapped, he heard them but he couldn’t feel them, not when the moonlight soothed every ache and pain. Teeth fell from his mouth, filled by sharper, stronger replacements in a muzzle that elongated itself so quickly it broke his skin and then healed over just as fast. His long hair grew thick and coarse and mane-like, spreading across his neck and shoulders. The bones of his fingers cracked and rearranged themselves into something stuck between hands and paws. Ren found himself lying in the snow, breathless in a new body; one familiar and foreign in equal parts, but one that made sense. He stood, joints protesting after the massive change, but quietly, like he’d been asleep in the same position too long and needed only to stretch. He shook out his fur and pushed himself onto his hind legs, half-standing. It was uncomfortable to stand this way, like his spine and shoulders were only halfway made for it. He towered over Gem, who stood watching him from the cabin door. He towered, but no part of her seemed scared of him. Faintly, he thought that was good. He thought he was strong and sharp enough to snap her to pieces if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to, and she should know that by now.

“Feeling better?” Gem asked, smiling up at him with something like relief. “You definitely look more comfortable.”

Ren dropped himself back down on four legs, and even still the two of them were eye level with each other. His tail wagged slowly, ears up and forward, the best indication he could give that yes, he felt much better. No more itch beneath his skin, no more feeling trapped in a body too small, restless to contain him. No more tugging, push-and-pull, with a ribbon holding him in place.

“You remember the plan?”

Ren snorted out a breath through his nose. It was a bit… foggy. But he remembered standing in the cabin a few minutes ago. He remembered Gem making him repeat what they were hunting for. So he nodded his head. It felt weird to do. This body wasn’t really supposed to communicate that way. But his mind knew that’s what she was waiting for.

“Alright Ren, I trust you,” Gem said, mischief playing in her tone. “Let’s go hunting.”

She shed her jacket, gloves, and boots and then stepped outside to join him. Her hair, as it had been all day, was down and ribbonless. In the moonlight it looked pink and purple, like snow at sunset. She ran her hands through it, considering for a moment, then began to shift as well, long and lithe and graceful, but still a little sharp. It always made Ren think of a willow tree, wreathed in bone. She was antlered and tall, shoulder to shoulder with him, a white stag crowned in ivory. White. The wrong color. He needed to remember that. He needed to screw it to the front of his mind while he still had one.

Gem tilted her head in the direction of the woods and trotted off, leaving delicate, pinhole footprints in the snow. Ren followed, devouring her tracks beneath the size of his massive claws. A wolf and a stag joined the woods, a monthly tradition, carried on the light of the full moon.

Chapter Text

Ren ran, and it was the best thing he’d ever done in his life. His stride devoured distance recklessly, chasing whims and half-thoughts that were more emotions than anything else. Chasing free , whatever that was. Chasing limitless. The snow was nothing to him, he barely felt its chill or damp. It tumbled off his fur before it could even settle. Beside him, Gem kept pace, a flashing of white and silver on the edge of his vision, bending and leaping nimbly, a willow tree. She always reminded him of willow trees. She was on the edge of a bank surrounded by muddy water, white and gray and green in sunlight and he loved running beside her. He couldn’t smell her though, which was good, because he wasn’t hunting her. Though through half-thoughts and impulses he thought someday it might be fun to see if his teeth could break willow bark. Maybe if she weren’t Gem, he’d be tempted to try. Tempted. But he would never. It was Gem, after all, and she knew his name if he forgot it.

The smell in his nose was warm and red and brown. They were hunting. That’s why they were out here, hunting. Not running forever in the snow - though he thought he could run forever if he tried. He needed to focus, he needed to shake off the fog in his head. It was always creeping up on him, smothering him in scents and feelings. Always creeping, comfortable, like a blanket. But he needed to think. 

They were hunting, and the smell was red and brown in his nose, and it clashed warm and bright with the smell of cold and green of the trees and snow. He followed it, nose to the ground, following the warm against the cold. He could have run forever, but he didn’t. He held himself back, a gentle trot, keeping pace with tracks that overlapped each other in the snow. Gem trotted beside him, her head following her antlers as she looked around. She saw better than he did. Her eyes were made for spotting moving shapes in the dark. His eyes were capable, but not as good as his nose or his ears, so he let her do the watching while he did the smelling and listening. They were a good team. Working together. Filling the spaces the other had trouble occupying. He had hazy memories of running alone for days and weeks and months and maybe even years, of filling his own blank spaces. He was meant to run with something else. Something like family, or friends, or brethren, or pack. It felt nice, running with Gem. There were fewer spaces to fill. 

The smell of warm and red and brown was getting warmer and more colorful, and Ren knew they were getting close. He slowed to a walk, stepping quietly, because he didn't want to scare anything. Then he'd have to chase it, and he could run forever, but he hated the feeling of losing a chase. It felt like an empty stomach and uncertainty, and wandering pale into the dawn, unfulfilled.

Gem was beside him still, willow sprigs dancing in his peripheral vision. He thought she found him amusing. Something in her body language, in the way she dipped her head and flicked her tail, like she was smiling at him. He probably did look silly, a monster the size of a bear with the face of a wolf, picking across the snow like he could somehow make himself vanish. But this had worked before, so it would work now. He’d hunted before. He was good at it.

The trees were getting sparse this high up on the mountain, so it was easy to glance the herd of deer when they neared it, delicate willowy legs dancing on white snow. They were downwind of them, which was good, because then they wouldn’t smell Ren coming. Everything that smelled him always ran, rightly terrified. He’d grown to find it annoying. He hated losing a chase, but he dared himself not to lose this one. He pressed his belly to the snow and stalked forward, eyes fixed on the nearest warm brown shape, ears trained on the sound of its heartbeat, unhurried, unalarmed.

Gem stepped a leg down in front of his nose, stopping him in his tracks. He looked up at her, bristling. He didn’t dare growl, but between the fur and the wrinkled muzzle she could see his impatience. She didn’t budge though, instead lowering her head to prod him with her antlers, like she was shoving him gently aside.

Wait here.

He dared a step forward, then paced the same step back, restless. A soft whine crawled its way up his throat. She flicked her tail, amused, but stamped her hoof down again insistently. 

Wait here .

Ren paced in a circle and thought long and hard about ignoring her. Thought about it, but ultimately didn’t, laying down with a disgruntled huff in the snow. He pillowed his head on his claws and glared up at her. She blinked down at him, and he could imagine her human face, grinning from ear to ear, her arms crossed behind her back, smelling of mischief and springtime. He watched her go, emerging from their little stand of trees into the clearing the herd had gathered in. 

There were, clustered and bowed like jabbering crows, several ash trees where the herd had gathered, and the deer picked at their bark and their berries in the shelter the night afforded them. Gem joined them, wandering amongst deer like she was one of them, and they seemed mostly unaffected by her presence. Mostly. There was a buck there that caught her eye, and the two of them lowered their antlers towards each other. It was a weird language, whatever language deer spoke to each other. Ren didn’t understand it. To him, the two lowering their heads meant submission and acceptance, asking permission and giving it. To deer, it must mean something heinous, because the two rushed each other. Their antlers met with a shattering crack, and the sharpness of the noise made him blink. It was familiar. His willowy white deer pinning this brown one in her antlers, so those sharp points couldn’t turn in his direction.

The two broke apart, and Gem let herself be pushed in Ren’s direction, dodging sharp striking hooves. They lowered their heads to each other again and rushed. This time when they crashed, Ren found himself up on his feet, half-crouched, muscles tensing. Gem’s back was facing him, and the buck she sparred with pushed her backwards again, their antlers disentangling with relative ease. She ducked its sharp hooves again and charged. This time when their antlers locked, Ren watched the points of hers tangle in the buck’s, too locked together to simply tear apart again. Gem yanked backwards, sending the both of them stumbling a few steps. Ren burst from his hiding place, all teeth and claws and impulse. 

Every deer that saw him scattered, and the buck caught in Gem’s antlers tried to as well, but she set her stance and held it still, willow legs rooted to the ground, immovable as the mountainside they stood on. Ren pounced, his teeth found where the flesh of its throat lay closest to its pulse, quick and fearful. Gem was calm by comparison, a constant rhythm beside his ear as his weight dragged both her and the deer she was locked with into the snow. It was over quickly and quietly, the pulse in his ears turning into a smattering of red on the ground, flickering dim, and then flickering out. A warm smell more red than brown, growing cold beneath his claws and teeth, and he was filled with glowing satisfaction. Gem was still caught on the buck’s antlers though, and he reached with paws that were halfway to hands, helping to pull them apart.

Movement caught the corner of his eye, quick and fleeing. All impulse and no sense, the wolf didn’t even realize he was chasing it until Gem’s bellows were calling after him - but he was already gone, her cries silent in the back of his head against the roaring in his ears that told him he hated, above anything else, to lose a chase. He didn’t even really know what he was chasing. It was a blur of movement above him, dark and quick, diving through leaves and boughs and sometimes landing long enough to leave a track he could follow. Tracks that blurred in his vision as he barreled past them, tracks his own massive pawprints devoured. The air was filled with the smell of mountain wind, tall trees, and something else - something that bit his nose like a spark. He followed it, jaws hungry to rip and tear, and leave that biting smell soaking into the grass like the deer he’d left behind.

It ran him on a wild hunt, the whatever-it-was that kept swooping through the trees. He found himself running down the mountain, bursting through drifts of snow and stands of trees, the moon high and bright overhead in a sky so clear he wished he could swim in it. The creature he followed stayed stubbornly ahead of him, undaunted, though he thought it should have tired long ago. Not that he was tired - he could run forever - but his lungs were starting to burn from the cold air, and his breath came in gaping mouthfuls past his teeth, cloying every smell with the color blue, ice, and snow. He was starting to lose the chase. He could hear the thing in front of him, but he was starting to lose its smell. It was frustrating. Infuriating. He hated, hated, losing a chase.

A new smell hit him, frigid, dark, black, only seconds before he hit it. It was a blur of movement first, of his pounding footsteps and a sudden pulse close enough that he could hear it spike, and then they were tumbling over each other in the snow. The dark and frigid slipped away from his claws deftly, and the wolf made out the form of a man, hair snow white, hood falling over his shoulders in his rush to stand. The chase was over. The wolf had caught something, and he didn’t really care that it wasn’t an animal, or some odd shape diving through the trees. All he cared about was that it was in front of him, looking up at him with mismatched and fearful eyes, with a pulse that was quickening as panic set in. The wolf lifted onto his hind legs, towering over the unlucky person he’d tumbled into, and the man took a step away from him, trying to decide whether it would be best to run. It was a deadly hesitation.

The wolf was tired of chasing things. He craved the satisfaction of blood and bone in his teeth. He lunged towards the man in front of him, claws and teeth bared, and with a wail the man dodged him, nimble and quick, and well used to running in the snow. The wolf’s jaws closed on the back of his jacket before he could run, and he tossed the man into the nearest tree. No bones broke, but he landed painfully, winded and dazed in the snow. For all his jaws and teeth not made for human expression, the wolf bared his best grin. Good. The man couldn’t run if he couldn’t catch his breath. He dragged the man towards him, pinning a shoulder to the ground beneath his claws. The man blinked up at him, confusion turning to realization turning to fear, a cascade of emotions the wolf took pride in ending between his teeth. The man was screaming something at him, but he couldn’t hear it past how quick his heartbeat was, and how loud in his ears, and-

The wolf was kicked off the man with enough force to send him rolling into the snow. He was back on his feet in an instant, bristling from nose to tail and barring his teeth. The thing that had kicked him was a stag, tall and willow thin, but strong as a mountainside. It stood over the man bravely, antlers lowered in his direction, a dozen points ready to send his blood onto the snow. He thought it would be a fun thing to hunt, if he could just get past those antlers. He prowled around it, circling, growling, daring it to run, but it didn’t. It stood its ground, only moving to keep those antlers angled in his direction dangerously. This was going to be a fight then. It didn’t matter. He was strong, and he was fast, and he had killed a thousand deer in his lifetime. This would be no different - and it would be quite a prize, killing a deer with a coat so silvery white.

Ren froze. A fog he hadn’t realized had settled over his head cleared. He was staring at Gem - well, he was staring at her antlers, ivory on willow white - and he was Ren, out hunting brown deer and nothing else. The distant human parts of him felt what the wolf in him was incapable of feeling: first horror at the realization that he’d almost attacked her, and then shame as it settled in. He laid down in the snow, jaw firmly shut, nose buried beneath his paws like he could hide the teeth he’d ferociously bared not moments before. Gem gave a long-suffering sigh and straightened, stepping away from the poor frightened man still lying beneath her hooves. Or, well, Ren didn’t really smell fear from the man, now that he really stopped and took stock of his surroundings. His pulse was quick, but it wasn’t really panic; it seemed more like what remained from the initial surprise and the attempt at flight. He was curled up as small as he could in the snow, arms around his head and neck, staring wide-eyed into the middle distance like he was rehearsing his best play-dead routine. Ren might be convinced, if he couldn't hear the heartbeat and see his chest moving. Ren recognized him distantly, but the fog had left him forgetful, and he couldn’t place a name to his face.

Slowly, the man seemed to decide he was no longer in danger of being mauled to death. He sat up in the snow, and with his eyes locked on Ren, slowly got to his feet. He dusted himself off and glanced at Gem, who still stood protectively nearby him.

“Oh… snappers,” he said with nervous brightness, “this was the wrong night to go for a walk, huh?”

Gem snorted in agreement. She stepped away from him, and as she did she shifted, ivory fur and long features bluntening into the familiar, very human Gem she spent most of her time as. She kept the antlers, wreathing her head gently, small and fragile compared to what they’d been before.

“Sorry about that, Etho,” Gem said, brushing off her arm like she could rid herself of what remained of the deer she’d been. “I think Ren got lost in the hunt there for a sec.”

Ren . Not a wolf, not really. He felt a bit stupid for feeling otherwise. Ren didn’t get up from where he lay in the snow. He watched Etho apologetically, trying to convince the man he was harmless, for the time being at least. Etho regarded him with something like suspicion; it was hard to tell his emotions fully. 

Etho looked and smelled like winter, like something colder than winter maybe, if such a thing existed. He was white and pale and thin in ways that made Ren think of bird bones - easily snapped in the teeth, but so small and buried in fluff they were difficult to find. Ren also thought that, like bird bones, Etho would shatter when snapped, leaving sharp splinters stuck in his throat. He wore shades of gray and white, a patchwork of furs and wool and warmth, only broken by black leather boots and the black scarf he kept pulled around his face. He had one eye that was black, and one eye that was red, and it reminded Ren of an open wound, always bleeding. Between the eye and the scarf, his expressions were almost impossible to read, rendered more impossible by his habit of standing with his hands in his pockets and his heels clicked together, so still as to be made of stone, and all gilded in a voice that could be best described as “tiredly pleasant” at all times.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve snapped out of it buddy,” Etho hummed, his voice bright. “I don’t think I would be too easy to stitch back together.”

Gem giggled. “I’m just surprised he got the drop on you, really. Are you losing your touch?”

“Maybe I’m a little rusty,” Etho’s eyes narrowed to slits, something smile-like, and he shrugged, “but in my defense, he is a werewolf, and I’m just a guy, you know.”

Ren did his best imitation of a laugh, a sound that was more like a broken growl than anything else.

“What? I am,” Etho scoffed, “or at least I try to be. So, what’s brought you two to my side of the mountain?”

“The hunt,” Gem answered simply, hugging herself, clearly cold. Her breath billowed in front of her mouth every time she spoke, and she’d left her coat and boots behind. Ren rose to his feet slowly and padded over to her, and she buried her hands in his fur to keep them a little warmer. “Speaking of which, we did actually catch something. It’s probably crow food by now.”

Etho tilted his head up towards the sky, reading something there Ren couldn’t see. “Well, if you make good time I’m sure you can get back to it before dawn. That’s when Ren turns back, right?”

Ren snorted.

Gem shrugged. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“It’s mostly a choice? Except on the full moon. Then he’s like this if he wants to or not.”

“Huh,” Etho smirked, or his voice did at least, “the more you know.”

“Oh gosh, I’m freezing. We should start heading back.” Gem wrung out her hands and shivered. Ren huffed at her sympathetically. He was starting to feel the cold seeping into his fur, so he could only imagine how she felt, no coat, boots, or gloves, and cooling down from a hard run. She’d be warmer shifted into something else and moving, warmer still if the direction they went was far, far away from Etho. Etho always seemed to haunt the coldest parts of the mountains - enough that it seemed more choice than habit. At the very least, the world was always cold around him. “D’you want to come with us? We’ve got tea back at the cabin, and we’ll have venison soon.”

Ren bared his teeth in a grin, trying to imagine the three of them squeezed into the tiny cabin where he and Gem barely fit. It would be… cramped. Gem might call it cozy if she were being kind.

“Ooh, that’s tempting. Maybe next time,” Etho said brightly, narrowing his eyes in Ren’s direction, “but uh, I think I’ve had enough excitement for today.”

“Right, I forgot you’re a hermit.”

Etho clutched a hand to his chest like he’d been wounded, stumbling back a step dramatically. “Oh man, you two are vicious. First, I’m almost mauled and now this?”

“You’re absolutely right Etho, I’m sure tonight is very traumatic,” Gem giggled at him, and Ren snorted a laugh of his own, his tail wagging a trail into the snow. “You know what helps me when I’ve had a hard day?”

“Couldn’t be tea, could it?”

Now it was Gem’s turn to feign dramatics, gasping loudly in surprise. “Wow that’s exactly right! How did you guess?”

“You know, I had a hunch.” There was a smile in Etho’s voice that, as far as Ren could tell, sounded genuine. Etho shook his head. “That’s very kind of you Gem, really, but I think I’m going to head home for the night. There are scarier things than you two in these woods, and I’m done pushing my luck for now.”

Gem shrugged, finally giving in to his insistence. “Whatever you say. Would you like us to walk you home at least?”

“Nah, I live nearby.” Etho jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be home quicker than you will. You two be safe though - we don’t get a lot of undead up here, but they do stray through sometimes.”

“We will, Etho.”

They broke away from each other, Etho waving them off as Ren and Gem trailed off into the night, Gem shedding her human form as they went. She seemed more comfortable covered in fur, though she still huddled close to Ren for warmth. Ren glanced once over his shoulder, curious to see what direction Etho would leave by - only to find he was still standing where they’d left him, hands in his pockets, watching. Etho didn’t move, only vanishing from sight when the trees of the forest obscured him from view.

If Ren were of a more human mind, he would find it unsettling to be stared at for so long. He might find it even more unsettling knowing whenever they met Etho, it was always stumbling upon him in the woods, high up in the mountains where the chill was more ice than snow. He might worry how every time they offered to host Etho, he found a way to refuse - and to Ren’s knowledge, there were no homes on this side of the mountain that Etho could possibly be living in.

Ren wasn’t human enough to worry about such things. Now he was doing his best to remember his name and that he wasn’t a wolf, no matter how he felt under the bright light of the full moon. He was reminding himself that they had come out here to hunt brown deer and nothing else, and that the willow-white deer beside him was a friend, a part of his pack, and barred from his teeth and claws no matter how badly he itched to see who would win a fight between them. He focused on retracing his blundering tracks through the snow to the clearing they’d hunted, in the hopes that when the moon finally sunk behind the horizon and the sun bloomed pale light onto the sky, they would be back at the cabin, tired and mostly human, and Ren in full control of his mind again.

Chapter Text

They spent two more days on the mountain: a short hunting trip compared to their many previous, but they both agreed that leaving Doc alone while there were vex in the valley had them a bit on edge. Of course, Doc could take care of himself, but the worry persisted.

They spotted Etho one more time while they hunted - at a far distance, tracking something with his bow half-drawn through the high mountain snow line. The woodsman howled when he spotted them, which Gem found hilarious. Ren took it as a good sign that if Etho could joke about their encounter, then he didn't hold it against him. Etho was one of the few people who knew about Ren's full moon sickness, and he thought it would be a shame to lose him. They might not talk much, but being genuinely known was nice sometimes. It made things seem more normal.

The trip down the mountain was as uneventful as it could be, given Gem left her hair down until they stepped into the valley proper. Being unbound for so long put a swelling of magic in Gem, like whatever-she-was took time to get warmed up. There were grass and flowers blooming through the snow where she walked. Flocks of birds circled and roosted in trees nearby her, occasionally bringing her trinkets that she thanked them for with a laugh and a smile. Most of them were useless bits and bobs; acorn caps, mushrooms, shiny rocks, and chips of flint. An impressively large raven dropped off a clump of redstone dust, which Gem pocketed excitedly. "Oh! Doc can use this to make more of his ribbons! Thank you!" Encouraged by her reaction, any gifts the birds brought to her after tended to be red. Ren helped her braid the poppies into her hair. Beaufort was also affected by whatever aura Gem seemed to have. He walked faster, and even laden with their hunting over the last few days, pulled their small cart tirelessly, only getting nervous when a bear wandered through the trees beside them, keeping its respectful distance but seemingly guarding them as they traveled. 

Ren had asked Gem, when they'd first started their trips up the mountain, what exactly she was. She knew he was a werewolf, so he figured it wouldn't be too rude a thing to ask. She had laughed and told him she didn't know. She figured herself for some kind of forest spirit. Certainly things bloomed around her, and she claimed the goats Doc raised only got their size because she was around. Ren could only admit to himself that he knew nothing about nature spirits, or really magic in general outside of how his own worked. He decided Gem was just Gem, and that was that.

Eventually they came to the old brick chimney that marked the entrance to the valley, and they sat beneath it eating lunch while Gem braided her ribbon into her hair. There used to be a house here at some point. The old property line was marked by a pair of broken fence posts nearly lost to climbing ivy, and the edges of the house’s foundation crept from the ground with the rusted hues of sunbaked brick. If it weren’t for the chimney, blackened in arcs by the specter of the flame that took the rest of the house, they might have missed the ruin entirely. Now it stood out as their landmark, a halfway point between the cabin on the mountain and home, and a reminder to bind their magic before marching onwards. Sometimes when they sat in its shadow, bracing themselves for the remainder of the walk home, Ren would wonder who used to live here. He wondered where they might be now, if the fire took them or if they’d escaped somewhere. Maybe they lived in Haltvale, having rebuilt their life somewhere closer to hands that would stop any fire that should happen again. Maybe they’d fled into the wilderness, past the mountains to some other village, their only reminder of their old valley home the traders who wandered through. 

Gem finished tying back her hair, and when she did, her entourage of woodland creatures began to disperse. Hawks and sparrows remembered their feuds with each other, corvids gossiped and meandered, a pair of deer startled and galloped for shelter in the woods. The bear that had taken an interest in them considered them for a long moment, until Ren untied his own ribbon and threatened to transform. It caught a whiff of his moon-cursed magic and promptly decided those were claws and teeth it had no desire to challenge; which was good, because while Ren was pretty sure he could fight off a bear, it would give him a good thrashing in the process. Ren wasn’t too keen on getting any more scars.

It was late evening in the valley when the Octagon Ranch finally came into view. The sky was painted in darkening hues, and the sun had slipped behind the mountains. The cool evening breeze wafted through, though it was nothing compared to the cold of the mountaintops and didn’t trouble them when it brushed by. Ren’s brow creased in a frown as they approached, and he scanned his eyes across the property, concerned.

“The lights are out,” Ren observed, and Gem nodded, having noticed as well. “I wonder what Doc’s up to?”

“Well, I don’t see Vigenere,” Gem tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “and the gate is closed. He probably wasn’t expecting us back for a couple more days - d’you think he decided to stay in town for the night?”

“Either that or he’s coming home late. Guess we’ll have to get unloaded and wait and see?” 

Gem shrugged, agreeing that was probably their best course of action. Ren was stuck feeling a bit silly they’d come home so early, and then worried, because the whole reason they’d left was to make sure Doc was okay, and here he was missing. Granted, Doc being out late wasn’t really abnormal. He often made himself handy around town. Some poor sod had probably come knocking on his door fretting over a leaky roof, or a falling well, or a sick horse, and Doc had meandered into town to help only to be accosted by more well-meaning people who needed an extra pair of hands for something or other. It had happened a thousand times, and Ren assured himself it had probably happened again.

They were unloaded by nightfall, and Ren gave Beaufort a quick brushing down before letting him wander in the field for the evening. The barn door was cracked open enough for the goats to come and go, and most of them had already meandered in that direction to bed down for the night. Ren leaned on the gate and scanned the field, searching for any stray kids who might have wandered out without their mothers, and found none. Vigenere was still nowhere to be seen, and given how watchful she was of the property, Ren took that as a sign that she must be wherever Doc was. He turned and looked up the road, scanning it for any sign of Doc coming from town, and then finally gave up when Gem called him inside for dinner. 

When he reached the doorway, he remembered what False had said about keeping an eye on the sky. He searched the tree line, noting the handful of bright stars making themselves known in the purple-blue and the lack of any ominous shapes swooping across the horizon. His ears picked out the dry, hollow clatter of bones as a skeleton, beckoned back to life by the sunset, shambled through the darkness, and he made a mental note to make sure it moved on before starting on chores in the morning. Then, Ren turned in for the night.

Chapter Text

Ren was up with the sunrise the next morning, finding it hard to sleep soundly when Doc was missing. At some point in the night, it occurred to him that Doc could’ve been carried away by something, and as silly of a thought as it was, it wouldn’t leave him. He would rationalize it away just long enough to catch a few minutes of sleep, only to jolt awake, heart racing, as a new terrible scenario lanced through his head. What-ifs cycled through his thoughts like scratched records, skipping on themselves only long enough for one or two details to change, forcing a new, worse disaster into his head. By the time he crawled out of bed, he had very nearly convinced himself Doc had been devoured by a passing dragon, if it weren't for the fact that no dragon had been heard of outside of bard's tales for the past century.

Ren forced himself into a slow morning routine, like it would stop him from worrying. He tied back his hair, he ironed his shirt, he strapped on his suspenders. He made breakfast for himself and Gem, biscuits and gravy. It was something he had to make with patience so it wouldn't burn, which meant he did in fact burn it when his anxiety made him wander; though he salvaged it enough to still make an edible meal. He cleaned the living room, noting that Doc hadn't taken his jacket with him whenever he'd left for wherever he'd gone. On Doc's chair, a plain white ribbon sat, a thread of red halfway through a line of stitching on one side. He’d been in the middle of making a new ribbon for Gem. Ren reminded himself this didn't mean anything, Doc stopped in the middle of projects often, especially if he was asked to help with something in town.

Ren worried about it anyway.

If Gem noticed his nervousness when she joined him for breakfast that morning, she didn’t comment on it, instead elaborating on a dream she’d had last night. It was a pretty nonsensical one, involving ridiculous amounts of tadpoles in an infinitely deep water bucket. She said it put her in the mood to go down to the creek and look for tadpoles, which he warned her against, because there was maybe a monster in the valley? A monster that he was slowly convincing himself had eaten Doc? To which she’d brightly replied, “No monster would ever eat Doc, Ren. He probably tastes too much like carrot greens. Besides, Vigenere would stomp anything to death that tried.”

He begrudgingly admitted she had a point - about the Vigenere bit anyway. Ren made his way outside to start on the morning chores while Gem cleaned up after their breakfast. It was warm outside already, and Ren figured that meant it was shaping up to be a hot, sunny day. There were a handful of clouds high up in the sky, but they were too sparse and thin to offer any meaningful shade.

Ren noticed the goats weren’t out yet, and that was concerning. Normally they wandered into the field to start grazing by now. Sure, sometimes they needed a little encouragement, but he should still see a few goats roaming around. The door to the barn was half-open as he'd left it the night before, though from the fence, all he could make out of the interior was the yawning black of the barn's shadow. He made his way over, pausing to watch the barn pensively for a moment before shoving the door open wider. Ren caught a glimpse of bright green, and with a scream he slammed the door closed. In nearly the same motion he leaped away from it, tripping tail-over-teakettle on the fence in his scramble to get away. 

Gem was at the front door of the house in an instant, wiping soap suds on her pants in her rush to get outside. “What?! Ren what happened?”

“Dude there’s-” Ren scrambled to his feet, backpedaling away from the fence like it was a snake about to bite him, “there’s- Gem, my dude, there’s a creeper in the barn.”

“What?!” Ren thought if her voice were any higher in pitch, it’d set dogs barking, if there were any around to hear. “What do you mean there’s a creeper in the barn? How did a creeper get in there?!”

“I don’t know! Maybe there’s a hole in the fence somewhere?”

“Oh man,” Gem moaned, “what if it explodes?”

“It won’t explode if we don’t go near it,” Ren said, taking another step away from the barn for good measure.

“Well we can’t just leave it in there!”

Ren growled in dismay, or at least, he did his best to with his ribbon in his hair and his voice trapped in human octaves. He and Gem stood awkwardly beside each other, eyes locked on the barn door like the creeper who’d wandered in would suddenly decide to come bursting out, hissing and flashing all over the place. Gem was right, they had to do something.

“Are you sure it was a creeper?” Gem whispered, like she was afraid the creeper might hear. “Like, could it be a zombie or something?”

“Zombies aren’t that bright green, my dude.”

“Oh man. Okay. Okay.” Gem let out a bracing breath, screwing a determined look on her face. She smoothed out her shirt like it could put her thoughts in order and said, “This is- this is fine. We can deal with this. Oh boy, oh-kay. Where was it in the barn?”

“I’m gonna be real honest here Gem, I was a little too busy getting away to notice,” Ren huffed, crossing his arms and watching the barn door. “I mean, it was far enough away that it didn't notice me, I guess? It didn’t hiss at me anyway.”

“Great, so it’s probably in the back then?” Gem leaned on the fence and scowled thoughtfully for a moment before finally committing to vaulting over it. Ren cursed under his breath and followed suit, shoving his hands in his pockets once he was over, so he could pretend they weren’t shaking. Approaching the barn, his heart hammered in his chest, and he stopped several steps away from it while Gem continued tip-toeing onward. The barn had a few small windows on its longest side, and Gem crept over to the closest one, biting her lip nervously as she passed by the door, still firmly shut. She gingerly peered over the windowsill; face pressed against the glass as she looked around. She stood on her tip-toes and leaned, trying to get a good look at the dark interior.

“Ren,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, “we’re in trouble.” She turned to look at him. “Doc is in there.”

Ren opened his mouth, but anything he would have said lost itself immediately. He blinked at her, mouth agape, dumbstruck. She blinked at him back, looking just as lost. Finally he whispered, “Doc is in there. With a creeper.”

“Yep.”

“He’s… is he dead?”

“No?”

“Don’t say it like that Gem.”

“Well! I don’t think he’s dead,” she snapped at him, “but it’s a creeper Ren!”

There was too much of a question in her voice for Ren’s comfort, and he found himself moving to join her at the window, stomach churning in knots with every step. Glancing inside, the barn interior was all dark shapes and gloom. His eyes made out the familiar outlines of stalls, a few feed and water troughs. Various tools and coils of rope hung on hooks and pegs against the far wall, and the loft he knew was filled with hay and straw. A few goats were huddled in the stalls, nannies with kids that needed to be looked after with a little more care and attention. The main bulk of the flock was spilled into the main aisle where they surrounded the unmistakable shape of Doc pillowed against their fur. His back was pressed against Vigenere, head slumped against his chest as he slept, hands clasped over a book he’d been reading when he’d fallen asleep out here - whenever that had been. Vigenere, unlike Doc, was awake, but she laid there patiently for as long as he slept. Ren might be convinced she was keeping watch over him, if goats had the mind to do that sort of thing. Scanning the room again, Ren finally caught sight of the creeper he’d seen when he’d opened the barn door. It was, like Gem had guessed, crouched against the back wall of the barn, head occasionally swiveling to check for movement. The large black eyes and sloping scowling mouth seemed impossibly black in the darkness of the barn, voids that Ren pinned his gaze to, easy to trace. 

Ren cursed.

“No kidding,” Gem moaned, yanking on her braid in dismay. “Ren, what do we do?”

“You’re all nature-y,” Ren said, blinking down at her, “can’t you, I dunno, convince it to leave?”

“Ren, I make plants grow,” Gem scowled at him, hands on her hips, “and animals mostly tolerate me. Creepers are neither of those things.”

“Aren’t creepers plants?”

“I have no idea!”

“They look plant-y though.”

“Sure Ren, I’ll go walk over to it and ask it if it’s a plant,” Gem said condescendingly, rolling her eyes so hard he was a bit surprised they didn’t get stuck like that, “and while we’re at it, why don’t you turn into a dog and bark at it until it leaves.”

Ren held his hands up, conceding her point. “Alright, jeez, it was a dumb idea, I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

Ren leaned against the window again, startling himself when he realized the creeper had moved. It had crawled a bit closer to Doc - though it still hadn’t noticed him. Its gaze swept across the glass of the window and Ren ducked out of view when it did, afraid of attracting its attention.

“The loft,” Gem said suddenly. Ren raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued, “One of us can climb into the loft and get its attention, and the other can wake up Doc and get him out of there.”

“Right, okay, great. Problem,” Ren ushered in the general direction of the barn, “creepers can climb ladders, and even if they couldn’t, how do we get in there without making it go off in the first place?”

“Uh… well…” Gem stepped back away from the barn. “The roof is lower over here. D’you think you could give me a boost?”

Ren mirrored her, stepping back away from the barn to look up. There was a single window on the loft level of the building covered in wooden slats instead of glass. Really it was less a window and more an opening for ventilation, so on hot summer days the inside of the barn was bearable. Gem had her gaze fixed on it, sizing it up with a determined look on her face.

“Yeah, I can do that. But what about the ladder problem?”

“I’ll just stack some bales of hay by the ladder.” Gem shrugged. “If it can climb past all that, it deserves to get me, to be honest.”

Ren nodded, not agreeing in the slightest, but it seemed to be the best plan they could manage right now. Maybe with enough time and a few pairs of hands, they could manage to do something better, but there was an invisible time limit pinned to the task. Ren figured the only reason Doc hadn’t been spotted yet was because he was asleep, and surrounded by lumbering goats the creeper didn’t see as a threat. As soon as he woke and started moving…

Ren swallowed hard and then nodded to Gem, making himself as ready as he was able to. He followed Gem to the edge of the roof and made a step for her with his cupped hands. It took a couple of tries, but eventually he managed to lift her high enough for her to grab onto the roof’s edge and haul herself up. She stood there for a moment, smoothing out her shirt nervously, and then whispered to him, “Okay, I’ll knock on the wall when I’m ready. Be quick okay?”

“I’ll try,” Ren nodded. “Be careful, Gem.”

She grinned down at him nervously, flashed him a thumbs-up, and then dashed across the roof to the loft vent. It took her a few minutes to pry the slats loose and wriggle inside, but she did. Ren stood in front of the barn doors and waited, ear pressed against the wood, listening for his cue, or for disaster, or for anything really. He heard Gem’s footsteps in the loft, receding into the distance; some of the goats shifted their weight and let out curious bleats at her presence. There was a good deal of shuffling and some noises Ren nearly convinced himself were creeper hisses, but there was no following explosion. He was getting nervous again - or becoming aware of it again. His hands were sweaty, and his heart was in his throat, and he really wanted to be anywhere but here right now? Because he was pretty sure as soon as he opened the door, he was somehow going to get Doc killed, and that was the furthest thing from what he wanted.

Gem knocked on the floor of the loft so loud it made him jump. Ren flinched away from the doors, swore under his breath one more time, and then barged his way in. Sunlight flooded the space in front of him, illuminating Doc and his protective circle of wool and fur. A few of the goats startled at the sudden movement and got to their feet, scattering further into the barn. Vigenere stayed loyally beneath Doc, glaring at Ren with a look of quiet annoyance. At the back wall, the creeper had its front paws braced against the wood, making little hops and hissing angrily at Gem, who was leaning over the loft and talking to it in a sugary-sweet and shaking voice. Ren didn’t catch what she was saying, only noting that she had its full attention. He bolted into the room, shoving his way past one of their rams and grabbing a fistful of Doc’s shirt and his arm. Doc gasped awake to Ren half-dragging him to the open doors. Doc stumbled but managed to get his feet underneath him, clinging to Ren just as tightly as Ren was clinging to him.

“Ren, what the hell-?”

“Go go go!” was all Ren managed to stammer back, repeating the single word over and over again like a mantra.

“Ren!” Gem shouted suddenly, and both Ren and Doc looked over their shoulders to see the creeper had spotted them, and with angry hisses was charging in their direction. Ren screamed, a spike of adrenaline corkscrewing its way through his guts, and he threw Doc out of the barn, sending him stumbling into the dust. Ren followed at a sprint, slamming the barn doors shut behind him again, his last glimpse of the creeper a bright flash of light as it skated around one of the goats and leaped in his direction. The creeper thudded heavily against the doors as they closed, hissing loudly, and Ren screwed his eyes shut and braced himself against the wood, fully expecting the doors to suddenly come blasting off their hinges.

Much to his relief, they didn’t. Instead, the creeper pawed at the door for a moment, the scraping of its claws against the wood setting Ren’s teeth on edge. It rumbled close to his ear, a tinny sort of growl, and finally settled. Ren realized he felt light headed, and the shaking that had started in his hands had managed to progress to the rest of his body. He stood there gasping for breath and blinking in the sunlight, and listening for any sign the creeper might try to attack them again.

While Ren reigned in his panic, Gem retraced her path out of the loft, shouting as she went, “Ren that was perfect!”

“Sure, perfect. I’d call it terrifying.” Ren huffed out a long breath, and scowled. “Hey Doc, what the heck were you thinking, my dude?”

Doc hadn’t moved from where Ren had tossed him in the dirt. He sat there looking dazed, caught somewhere between waking and dreaming, and he watched Ren with open confusion on his face, like he was having trouble processing what he was saying. Finally he said, “You guys are home early.”

Gem barked a laugh from where she stood on the roof. Ren sighed.

“Sorry,” Doc stammered sheepishly, finally starting to get his bearings. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, “ahm, the house was a little too quiet. I needed the noise.”

Ren sighed and offered Doc a hand, which he took. He pulled Doc to his feet. “Yeah well, next time you decide to sleep with the goats my brother, shut the barn door. You’re lucky it wasn’t a zombie or skellie that wandered in.”

“No, I think a creeper was probably the worst-case scenario there.” Gem smiled wearily, sitting on the edge of the roof to patiently wait for some help down, “You’re really, really lucky all it saw was the goats, Doc.”

“I would’ve been fine.” Doc sounded a little unsure as he said it, and Ren smirked at him. “Well… I could’ve handled it, anyway.”

“Alright mister could’ve-handled-it,” Gem laughed, “You can lure it out of the barn then.”

“Alright, alright. Give me a minute.”

To Doc’s credit, he did succeed in luring the creeper out of the barn. He stood in front of the doors while Ren and Gem opened them, and as soon as it saw him, it took off in his direction. He jogged with it to the gate, letting it chase him out into the forest where it lost interest in him in the trees. Vigenere waited impatiently at the gate for him to return, occasionally stamping a hoof on the ground to voice her annoyance.

“Guess we’ve got a hole in the fence to find and fix,” Gem hummed, leaning against the fence while Doc caught his breath, “and Doc, you need some breakfast.”

“Man, and here I thought we’d have a nice, boring rest day once we got home.” Ren sighed and stretched, feeling pretty tired after the morning’s events already. If it weren’t such a worry that another creeper might wander into the pasture with the fence broken, he might press a little harder for them to call it a day already. Not that Doc would allow it anyway. If Ren and Gem stayed inside to rest, Doc would inevitably find a reason to go outside and busy his hands. The man refused to sit still. Even now, freshly back from being harassed by a creeper, he was inspecting the gate to make sure the latch was locking right, reassuring himself that some creature, or goat, couldn’t just kick it open.

They dithered for a few minutes, discussing the morning chores. Sometimes one of them would glance back towards the tree line, keeping watch for the creeper on the off-chance it came wandering back. It was a valiant game of pretend, acting as unbothered by the whole event as they were. Eventually the conversation turned towards the hunt, and how it went, and what Doc had been up to while they were gone. They might’ve found reasons to stand there by the gate and talk all morning, pretending that the goats needed to be watched, or that there was more to get caught up on than there was, or that they had nothing else to do but stand there and chatter. It was, predictably, Doc who brought them back to the present, and to things that needed done. There were folks in town who’d asked for help with repairs once Ren and Gem were back from their hunting trip, and the regular chores around the Octagon that needed doing. Ren groaned his annoyance, but went about the work regardless. Together, they found the hole in the fence at one of the far corners and got it repaired, Gem pointing out Vigenere's signature chewing marks on one of the broken beams as they did so. The offending goat simply tossed her head when it was pointed out to her, and Ren thought she looked about as smug as a goat could about the whole thing.

Chapter Text

By mid-morning the three of them were making their way to Haltvale, Doc driving the cart at a brisk pace. Instead of piled high with lumber as it had been the day they’d taken it to the house-raising, it was cluttered with various tools for fence fixing; wires and ropes, shovels, fence posts, nails, hammers, and an assortment of fox traps. Ren laid on the floor beside them, half-dozing with his arms pillowed behind his head. They were cage traps, wishful thinking for catching the animal without harming it. In Ren’s experience foxes tended to figure them out a bit too quickly. Gem would be distraught if they used anything else though, so they didn’t. 

“So who’s got the fox problem?” Gem asked, crossing her ankles overtop Ren’s knees like he was a convenient footstool. He got the feeling she was trying to annoy him, a symptom of boredom, but he was too busy enjoying the morning sun to care. A woodpecker drilled a cadence on a nearby tree, and Ren stuck his tongue out at the noise.

“Joe and Cleo,” Doc answered, interrupting an off-key tune he’d been musing. “Cleo said they’ve had a few chickens carried off and holes are popping up all around the fence.”

“That’s rough,” Ren yawned. “Fox-proofing is hard.”

“Lucky for us, we have something foxes are terrified of.” Gem nudged him with her heel, and Ren gave a melodramatic sigh. “Oh come on, Ren, it’ll take you like, thirty seconds.”

“Is that the only reason I’m being dragged along for this?” 

“No,” Doc chuckled, “I also need help building the new pen. But while we’re talking about it, ahm, there should be an old shirt back there, if you wouldn’t mind…”

Ren begrudgingly sat up and rummaged around the back, finding the aforementioned shirt buried underneath a pair of shovels. Gem stood in the cart, looked around for a moment, and shot him a thumbs-up when she judged there was no one to see. Ren quickly pulled his ribbon out of his hair. He didn’t transform; it wasn’t a full moon anymore, so he had more say in what his body did when the ribbon was gone. Someone looking closely might notice his ears sharpened a bit, as did his canines. His eyes, instead of dull brown, crept closer to gold. One of the goats in their team let out a nervous bleat, and Doc had to shush and reassure it so it didn’t spook and run. Ren quickly tousled the shirt against his hair, and then rubbed it across his arms for good measure before dropping it into the cart and tying his hair back again. He held his breath and waited, half expecting the vex to suddenly come swooping out of the sky. They didn’t. Ren laid back down and steadied his nerves.

“It’s good to know Joe and Cleo are doing okay,” Gem spoke up after a long pause, resuming the previous conversation. “I noticed they weren’t at the house-raising. Did they make it to the wedding at least?”

“Ahm… well… I think they wanted to be there,” Doc cleared his throat uncomfortably and lowered his voice a bit, “but I don’t think they were, you know, allowed to be there.”

Gem gasped, “Doc! Is this gossip? Are you gossiping right now?”

“Gem, I would never-”

“Ren! Doc is spreading rumors!”

“I’m not-! GeminiTay, are you spreading rumors?”

Ren found himself laughing, and the rest of their bickering was lost on him. 

Eventually they made their way to Joe and Cleo’s, cutting through the main bulk of town to do so. The Joe-Cleo household was a tannery first and a living arrangement second, and it was situated near the far edge of town for just that reason. Very few people willingly put down roots by a tannery; no one with a functioning sense of smell did, anyway. The main building was a squat two-story brick affair with a large open yard filled with vats and stretchers. The vats themselves were filled with the most rank liquids Ren had ever had the displeasure of smelling - and that included the many times in his life he’d been wolf-nose deep in rotting animal carcasses, which was generally more times than he would comfortably admit to. Skins slowly fermented inside the vats, turning into the valuable leather goods the town used for just about everything: shoes, belts, saddles, harnesses, gloves… even colorful decoration, when dyes were available and Cleo wasn’t too begrudging of extra work.

Cleo was out front now, bloodied hands at work on a stretcher, scraping down a hide to add to a pile she’d already prepared. Her long orange hair was tied back in a messy bun, half-fallen down already, but her hands were too gory to pull it out of the way again without spreading blood through her hair, so it stayed where it was. Her clothes were similarly messed, and it seemed she’d given up on using an apron at some point, consigning her shirt and pants to the odors and stains that came from processing dead things all day. It didn’t seem to bother her any though, and when Doc pulled the cart to a stop outside of the tannery, she dropped her scraper in a nearby bucket and waved brightly, her smile a warm and friendly contrast to her otherwise grim and bloody appearance.

“You’re here early,” Cleo greeted them as they clambered down from the cart. “I thought you guys just left for your hunt a few days ago?”

"We weren't having much luck," Gem lied smoothly; the only indication she gave the mischievous cross of her arms behind her back. "We caught two deer before we called it quits though."

"Sounds like you got more luck than I normally do," Cleo smirked. "Be careful Doc, they might be getting lazy on you."

Doc chuckled. “Maybe I should have them come work over here then. A few weeks making leather will, ahm, cure most lazy problems, I think.”

“I’m good thanks,” Ren interrupted them, unable to hide his disgust as he took a step away from one of the vats scattered around the yard. He and Gem had wandered over to the closest one, and between the slimy brown-gray color of the contents and the sharp ammonia reek, his stomach was already churning. Gem didn’t recoil quite as fast as he did, instead staring down at the soup-ish mess with morbid curiosity and a hand over her nose to block out the smell. She kicked the side of the vat gently, watching the brackish stuff swirl.

“That’s brains, Gem,” Cleo hummed pleasantly, answering her unspoken question.

“Brains?”

“Well, yeah, waste not, want not, and all that,” Cleo shrugged, like having a vat full of brains in your front yard was a perfectly normal thing to have. “D’you got any better ideas for softening leather?”

“With literally anything other than brains?”

“Kids these days,” Cleo scoffed, “no respect for the craft.”

She looked to Doc, searching for some solidarity only to find that he too was starting to look pale standing in the tannery yard. Cleo rolled her eyes and made a shooing motion with her hands. “Alright, alright, enough dawdling. Joe’s waiting for you lot at the house. D’you need any help carryin’ anything?”

“No, I think we’ve got- okay,” Ren bit off his own sentence as Cleo shouldered her way past him. She grabbed a stack of fence posts, hoisted them over her shoulder with the ease of someone who was used to dragging around massive tubs of questionable liquid and furs all day, and marched off across the yard. She hollered back at them as she went, “Watch your step, lovelies. If it looks and smells like a dead thing, you probably don’t want it on your shoes!”

Wrinkling his nose against the smell, Ren grabbed an armful of supplies and followed her, wincing whenever he stepped in something unrecognizable. The overwhelming smell of the tannery dulled a bit with distance, and Ren was grateful to leave it behind. The second structure on the property, Joe and Cleo’s house, was much smaller than the tannery, though it stuck out as cozy and clean when compared to its less hospitable neighbor. It was a one-story cottage, cobbled together stone and red brick making a sturdy, if a bit patchwork facade, of which cucumber vines devoured one side. The chimney was wafting a thin trail of smoke into the morning air and a lantern flickered on the front porch, a sign that Joe and Cleo had started their daily routine well before the sun was up. A vegetable garden grew out front, the plants in various states of flowering and withering; it seemed to be having a hard time. Joe was tending it as they approached, a pile of dead leaves and vines cluttering the grass around his knees.

Instead of announcing their presence, Cleo dropped the fence posts beside Joe with a loud clatter, startling him out of his work.

“Wh-! Cleo!”

“The Octagon crew are here,” she said matter-of-factly, wiping her hands on her pants as if she’d just realized they were still covered in the leftovers from her leatherworking. “Weren’t you supposed to be getting the chicken coop ready?”

“I’d like for you to define ‘ready’ exactly,” Joe huffed, standing and brushing the dirt off his knees. “I mean, the chickens are ready to not be eaten, but they were ready for that before I got up this morning.”

Joe was about a head shorter than Cleo and full of sharp, bony angles only softened by the worry-lines around his eyes. His hair and beard were long and a bit unkempt, moreso from thoughtlessness than laziness. Joe was the sort of person who always had something more important to do than keep up his appearance. His clothes were plain, defined by a handful of colorful patches where they wore thin at the joints. The only truly personal item he seemed to have were his triangular glasses, the bright green frames hand-crafted with jagged wire that Ren figured Joe had shaped himself. 

Joe dusted off his hands, smiled warmly to greet them - and then promptly frowned when his eyes rested on Doc. "Oh. Well howdy Doc-m. I didn't figure you'd... uh… be coming here? Personally, that is."

Ren glanced at Doc, who seemed content to return the comment with a shrug and a smile; pleasant, but oddly quiet given how he normally greeted folks. Ren looked to Gem for some kind of social cue he must be missing, but she was too busy fretting over the floundering garden to notice the awkward exchange. 

Cleo rolled her eyes and elbowed Joe. "Well he did come here personally, so make sure you use him for something important before he scarpers off. If you need anything, I’ll be elbows deep in brains, so don’t ask.”

She said the last sentence far too enthusiastically for Ren’s liking, but she was gone before anyone could question it, only slowing her walk enough to re-tie her hair as she went.

“She’s not actually going to be elbows deep in brains,” Joe said with a nervous smirk. “She just likes messing with people. None of the hides are gonna be ready for brains for another week and a half.”

“Right, that’s exactly as reassuring as I thought it would be,” Ren shuddered. “Joe, my dude, with all the stuff the tannery has going on, how can foxes even stand to get near this place?”

“Well, it’s the tannery that’s the problem, I figure.” Joe motioned for them to follow him, picking up a few fence posts as he went. “Y’see, all the scavengers think there’s a feast out here for ‘em, and when they figure out Cleo’s tanning supplies are inedible, they settle for the next best thing.”

Joe led them around the back of the house. Their chicken coop and the fence around it was a harrowing story of trial and error, but mostly error. The fence was too short to keep out anything but the oldest, lamest foxes you could imagine. There were claw marks and chew holes on just about every piece of wood in sight, and where whatever determined animal failed to chew its way in, it opted to dig. Burrow holes scuffed up the dirt and grass anywhere two posts were too close together for something to wriggle through, and while some had been filled, others had clearly been given up on. A spray of feathers on the ground just outside the coop was all that remained of one ill-fated hen, Joe and Cleo's latest casualty in their ever-losing battle against nature's most cunning pests.

Ren let out an impressed whistle. "You guys have got it bad, Joe. I don't think this is just foxes dude. You sure you don't have a badger den around here?"

Joe shrugged defeatedly. "Knowing our luck? Probably."

"I'm surprised you have any chickens left," Doc hummed, equally impressed by the devastation. 

“Joe,” Gem hummed, “I noticed the garden out front. Is everything okay?”

“Well I’ll be honest here Gem, not much really goes okay ‘round here. That’s sort of a symptom of me being me.” Joe laughed tiredly, slipping his glasses off to rub his eyes. "Cleo - bless her heart - is a lot better at handling dead things than keeping anything alive, and I’m not much better. As it turns out, half the critters that’s been after the hens also like squash and tomatoes. We've been trying to guard the place the past couple weeks, but even the dead gotta sleep."

Doc frowned. He looked down at Joe with an incredibly solemn sort of sympathy, akin to regret, and Ren once again found himself wondering if he was missing something between the two of them that he should've picked up on by now. Sure, the whole situation was pretty bleak, but Ren didn't think it was really all that grave. Doc raised a hand to put it on Joe's shoulder consolingly, paused, and seemed to think better of it. Instead he cleared his throat and said, "Gem, why don’t you give Joe a hand with the gardening. Ren and I can handle this."

“Are y’sure?” Joe asked. “I mean, I’d feel bad makin’ you do all the work. Not too bad to stop you, but still bad.”

Doc waved his hand dismissively. “It’s just digging and filling holes, Joe. Nothing too hard. You can help Ren set the traps later, if it bothers you.”

Joe didn’t need any further prompting. He nodded, thanked Gem preemptively for her help, and led her to the garden. Ren noticed Gem fiddled with the ribbon as she went, loosening her hair a bit. He smirked. She was going to get the garden growing again, one way or another. He tried not to be nervous about it. Ren hadn’t spotted the vex once today, and even if the vex were here, Joe and Cleo’s place was on a pretty undesirable side of town, where gliding overhead meant being suddenly hit by the wave of rotten smells the tannery made. He didn’t figure the vex did a flyover of the place too often, and if they did, no one would notice Gem with her ribbon a little loose, coaxing a few plants into growing better. Besides, Doc would never ask her to help if he didn’t think he could keep her safe.

Doc and Ren started work on the chicken coop, tearing down the battered old fencing and putting up new, taller fencing with fewer gaps in between the posts. It was hard work; less because it was complicated, and more because of all the lifting and digging, but it was work Ren had done a dozen times before, and so had Doc, so between the two of them they made quick time of it, only stopping once to break for lunch. By then, Joe was astounded at how quickly his plants seemed to be springing back to life after what Gem called “just a little tender love and care.” Cleo joined them for lunch as well, though she sat at a respectful distance away from them, aware that her gory attire wasn’t conducive to a good appetite in most folks. 

Cleo and Joe had an interesting rivalry of a relationship, one that Ren found as puzzling as it was warm. They seemed to be at each other’s throats constantly, bickering about this and the other thing with the same ease by which most folks made small talk - all the while flipping back to cordial warmth whenever Ren, Doc, or Gem entered the conversation. Ren got the feeling that might be how they showed they cared for each other, the playful battling back and forth, like a pair of cats who scrapped but ultimately still slept in the same ray of sunlight every day. He also thought for all their brightness, they seemed a bit lonely.

Ren had slowly but surely been learning the ways of small-town politeness over the past few years living in Haltvale. There was Doc’s polite, which was a kindness of authority. He helped everyone with everything, because at some point folks started looking up to him. If he didn’t help with something personally, he’d surely find someone else who could, mostly to the tune of enlisting Gem and Ren but not exclusively them. There was broadly polite, where you were just generally pleasant, because being a bad person meant folks might repay you in kind in a time of need. Then there were also a thousand smaller polites, neighborly politeness, friendly politeness, the thin facade of polite you gotta put on because if folks know you and someone else hate each other they’ll start to gossip, and so on. But for all those polites, Ren noticed it wasn’t neighborly polite that was fixing Joe and Cleo’s chicken coop, even though they lived in town and had neighbors, even if their houses were a few steps further away than most. While Ren didn’t know much of the goings on of Haltvale privately - he was an out-of-towner for the most part - he did know how it worked broadly, and the tannery smelling bad shouldn’t be enough to dissuade folks from helping a neighbor when they needed it. 

After lunch, they scattered again. Gem made the excuse that she was going to work on the garden a bit longer, but Ren saw she had the shirt he’d scented folded nearby, and he figured she was going to bury it beneath the chicken coop once no one was around to watch. Doc got to packing up the wagon with what remained of their building supplies while Ren and Joe ambled out into the nearby woods, setting out fox traps. It was easier than building the new fence, so Ren found it a pretty restful walk. He pointed out animal paths to Joe and showed him how the cage traps worked. They weren’t complicated, and Joe could probably figure them out on his own just fine, but it at least gave them a safe topic of conversation.

“You’ll have to check these daily,” Ren told him as he placed the bait in one. “About the worst thing you can do is forget they’re out here and come back to a starved animal later.”

“Yeah, I figure that’d be pretty unpleasant for everyone involved,” Joe grimaced.

“If you and Cleo do catch anything,” Ren continued, obscuring the trap as best he could in the leaf litter before stepping back to survey his work, “just send someone up to the Octagon and we’ll come get it. Next time me and Gem go up the mountain we can release it up there where it won’t make it back to your hen house… probably.”

“Well yeah, I’d hope not.”

“But even if it does, the fence is high and we’ve got a heck ton of wire around it. Something’s gonna have to fight to break in now.”

“Okay, great. Thanks.”

Ren turned to Joe, who had his glasses in his hands and seemed to be fiddling with one of the wires nervously. Ren raised an eyebrow at him. “Is there something wrong, my dude?”

“Well, no actually. This is great,” Joe said, but when he laughed he sounded miserable. He didn’t look up when he spoke to Ren, keeping his gaze trained on his glasses while he pretended one of the wires was bent out of place. “Uh, really, you have no idea how grateful I am. The last few years have been… uh… really hard. And Doc being here, it feels like maybe we’ll finally get to move past all this mess. I mean, don't get me wrong, you guys have always been friendly, but you're friendly with everyone, and Doc doesn't really get involved with us- I don't know. But he is right now and it just feels like the town’s finally healing a little."

Ren blinked, confused and overwhelmed. For a long moment he didn't really know how to respond. Finally he settled on, “Uhm… healing from what, Joe?"

Joe watched him like he was just seeing him for the first time, and Ren got the feeling like maybe he’d stepped into something he wasn’t supposed to, a mold that clung to the dirt, invisible until it spoiled the harvest. Joe had the look of someone considering to open a door, but fearful of the unknown locked on the other side, and it took him a great deal longer to think about his next course of action than Ren could comfortably sit through. But Ren also had no idea what he should be filling the silence with, if anything at all, so instead he waited awkwardly, putting up a valiant effort not to fidget and make his discomfort known. FInally, Joe came to a decision. He put his glasses back on, closing off his expression behind the idea of something unpleasant. 

“Right, you weren’t here, were you?” It was a fact phrased as a question. Ren didn’t bother answering. “Well, for the sake of fairness, just in case you have some moral offense you don’t know you’re stepping over right now, I guess…” Joe took a bracing breath and admitted, “I was a pacifist during the war.”

He said it like it was supposed to mean something important. Unfortunately for him - or maybe fortunately? - it didn’t. Not to Ren anyway. Though, some of Joe and Doc’s awkwardness was starting to make more sense. Doc hardly ever talked about the war, but Ren got the distinct impression that when whatever had happened, happened, he hadn’t been a pacifist for it.

“Oh, well… yeah, I don’t know anything about that, my dude.” Ren scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “So, we’re good.”

“Are you sure?”

Ren shrugged. “Pretty sure.”

“Oh thank heavens!” Joe sighed with much more relief than Ren thought the conversation warranted. “I was gettin’ real worried I was about to scare you off.”

Ren laughed, because he wasn’t really sure how else to react to that. He picked up the last trap they had to set and began leading them down an animal path, looking for a good place to put it. “You uh… you scare off a lot of people with that?”

“More than you’d guess,” Joe said tiredly, following Ren through the wood. “I don’t regret it, mind you. That war was a terrible thing Ren, and don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. I stood against it the only way I thought I could, and I’m still firm in my conviction. But the community has a way of punishing folks they think have sinned more than their fair share, and like I said, it’s been a rough few years.”

Ren thought about Joe and Cleo living on the outskirts of town with neighbors that hardly visited. He thought of Cleo working a hard, thankless job that was only successful because of its necessity. He thought of how neither Cleo nor Joe knew how to grow a garden, and no one had come to help them figure it out. They had a chicken coop that was necessary for survival in the winter months that they needed help to fix, and no neighbors or friends who had stepped in to help with it. He thought of a wedding they may not have been invited to, and the house-raising they probably weren’t wanted at, and how if you were going to make friends in the community those were some of the places you’d start. He wondered how many other things had slipped through the cracks for Joe and Cleo; things they’d gone without, hardships endured, preventable but ignored by anyone who could’ve done something about it. He wondered how many times the community had come together to celebrate something, and turned their backs to them in the same motion… all over a war no one even talked about anymore.

“Yeah,” Ren said quietly, “I bet it has been.”

“Listen, I really appreciate you guys coming out to help us,” Joe said, and Ren had to force his thoughts back into the present moment. “Truly. If there’s anything you folks need, anything at all, me and Cleo are happy to help you. We might not have much, but what we do have, we’re willing to share.”

Joe held out his hand to Ren, and Ren shook it. Joe’s hands were cold, despite the work they’d been doing.

“The same to you, my brother.” Ren smiled warmly. “If you ever need an extra pair of hands, you know where to find me.”

Chapter Text

Cleo escorted them off the property, mostly because she happened to be walking the same direction by the time they left. She had tidied herself up as best she could; clean clothes and a bath worked wonders, but the smell of rot followed her relentlessly. She walked with them to the edge of town, talking pleasantly with Doc and thanking the three of them again for their help with the hen house. She looked tired, bone-deep in a way that was fundamentally different from the fatigue Ren felt after the day’s work. She didn’t complain about it though, or explain the worry lines on her face. She simply waved to them, bid them a pleasant evening, and departed from them when she’d reached her destination at Haltvale’s graveyard. Doc made an off-handed joke to her that she should be wary of bringing something home. Cleo simply smirked and said she was scarier than any dead thing that could come crawling out of the ground.

The first time Ren had ever seen Haltvale’s graveyard, it had struck him as odd. It was far larger than a village their size had any right to have. It was ramshackle and rushed in places, markers made of weathering wood or indicated by large stones, uncut, simply present to mark. The clusters of stones huddled in bunches and groups, sometimes only differentiated by a shared day, week, or year, most of them unmarked completely besides the stone that declared they existed. They wilted and tumbled amongst each other, sinking into tall grass that reached with winding hands to hold them close, set to be consumed completely should they be left neglected a few more years. Newer graves had proper headstones, carved with names and gentle epitaphs, the frequent visits from those in town leaving the grass stunted and tamed; a drastic difference from the careless sprawl that came before it. Ren wondered who Cleo might be visiting in the graveyard so late in the evening, but the cart had turned at a bend in the road before he could make out where she was walking to. The most he could glean was that she’d passed the first row of stones.

“They’re not doing well, Doc,” Gem said, breaking the silence that had settled over the group. Ren looked ahead to where she sat perched on the front board of the wagon, precariously balanced just over Doc’s shoulder. Doc watched the road ahead, looking somber. Ren, for the second time that day, was struck with the feeling of sitting beside a deceptively deep unknown he wasn’t meant to see.

“They’ve had a punishing few years,” Doc responded. “Life’s been hard.”

There was something unspoken at the end of the sentence, stuck in the corners of Doc’s depending frown, mantled in the tiredness on his shoulders. Gem pressed a hand against Doc’s back comfortingly, and she whispered something to him that dripped with a similar exhaustion. Like a curtain falling, a wall draped itself between Ren and the two, sober and thoughtful, and Ren found himself lonely on the other side of it. The trundling of the cart wheels grew loud in the silence left behind. Ren focused on the sound of it.

They’re talking about the war, Ren thought.

The war he knew nothing about. The war that no one talked about, really, outside of quiet, uncomfortable, fleeting moments like this. Like a superstition or a particularly vindictive curse, like invoking its name would force its presence upon the world again. The boogeyman of Haltvale, haunting folks like Doc and Gem and Joe and Cleo.

As someone who came to the valley years after the war had ended, Ren found it easy to forget it ever happened in the first place. Even during quiet moments like this, where Ren was on the edges of knowing what they were worrying over, he didn't ask. It was a show of respect, he told himself. He was allowing folks their privacy. Gem and Doc would tell him if they wanted him to know. And… if he were completely honest, he would admit this was something he didn’t really want to know anyway. The way his friends' shoulders hunched, the way they both seemed to age and tire, the grim tone of their voices as they whispered… it didn’t paint a good picture. Thinking about it too long brought up a lot of uncomfortable questions Ren didn’t like addressing. Today, it confronted him with the fact that he lived and worked in a community where refusing to fight in a war was punished more than killing in one. There was ugliness there he'd rather ignore.

Still, sitting mutely in the back of the cart while Doc and Gem looked mournfully ahead, whispering about things he had no business knowing, it was hard not to feel a little bitter. Ren and Gem were thicker than thieves, and while his relationship with Doc was a little more formal, they were still close friends. He might even go so far as to say they were like brothers. It was easy to forget that there were massive stretches in their lives he had no knowledge of, things they refused to talk about outside of small scattered moments when their voices hushed and they turned their backs to him, taking solace in each other and each other only. Perhaps when he’d earned enough trust, or maybe earned the right place in their lives, he would know. Until then he kept his silence, patiently waiting for a chance to rejoin them in the present, distracting himself with the long shadows from the scattered trees as what was left of the golden-hour sunlight laid across the valley. The sun would sink behind the mountains soon, casting them in an early twilight, but for now the light was still strong. They may even make it home before the first of the undead started groaning awake.

As the cart passed Horsehead Farms, Ren saw xB and Hypno leaning against the fence, talking around a pile of freshly pulled weeds. They both bore the scuffs and scrapes of a long day’s work, and he recognized in their voices the tired drawl of folks killing time before getting to any final evening chores. As soon as the two noticed them coming up the road, they called Doc and his cart over. Ren looked to Doc, who seemed reluctant to partake in any of the regular shenaniganry Horsehead Farms always offered. They were all tired. It had been a long day. Doc waved politely, and then sighed when xB called him over more insistently.

“xB! Hypno! Good evening,” Ren greeted as the wagon pulled up beside the fence, figuring he was the best equipped for polite conversation right now. “What’s happenin’ gentlemen?”

“See, that’s what I like about you guys, always willing to help,” Hypno chuckled, elbowing xB as the two exchanged a look. “We noticed you and Gem didn’t make it to the wedding, Ren. The hunting trip couldn’t wait one more day?”

“We were trying to dodge the bad weather.” Gem offered a pleasant smile that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “Did we miss anything important?”

“You missed a good time, is what you missed,” xB hummed, scratching at his beard absentmindedly, “but hey, that just helps us out. See, we’ve got a bit of a situation here with the baron and vex.”

Ren felt his heartbeat speed up a tick, and he tried to keep the nervousness from entering his voice. “O-oh really? What problem?”

“Y’see, the baron’s got a lot of stipulations on what can and can’t be made around here. Especially when it comes to home-brewing.”

“Right, and we finally convinced him to let us do some light brewing for special occasions,” Hypno interjected, “but we’re only allowed to keep so much of it. And the vex dropped by yesterday, and they’ve decided that we brewed a bit too much for the wedding festivities. The rest of it has to be dumped.”

“Ah, what a waste,” Doc smirked, placing his chin in his hand as he waited for the conversation to meander to its point.

“That’s what we said,” xB nodded, “but they agreed with us that it was unfair ya’ll didn’t get to partake since you were out of town.”

“So what we’re saying is,” Hypno ushered behind him in the vague direction of the house, “we’ve got two barrels of wine and until the vex come knocking tomorrow to get rid of it. Feel like joining us?”

Well, Ren was tired. And to be honest, he’d been kind of looking forward to a quiet evening with some supper and some tea before winding down for bed. But he also thought that the evening at the Octagon was shaping up to be a miserable one, with Doc and Gem already making somber recluses of themselves. And it had been a terribly long time since Ren last had any good wine.

Ren hopped off the cart. “Well, I’m in.”

“Aw yeah! I knew we could count on you guys,” xB chuckled, offering Ren a hand to help him spring over the fence. He turned back to Doc and Gem, raising an eyebrow. “Any other takers?”

“I’m good, I think,” Gem smiled apologetically. “I’m not a big wine drinker. Doc, I don’t mind taking the cart back if you want to stay.”

Doc considered for a moment with a familiar nervousness in his expression.

“I’m not scared of walking home alone, Doc,” Ren chuckled.

“I know, I know. I worry, though.”

“Jeez, Ren, I didn’t know you had a curfew,” Hypno joked, earning a few scattered laughs. “Worst case scenario Doc, he’ll just crash here for the night. We’ve got room.”

 “Or we can send him home with a lantern,” xB chipped in. “The zomberts don’t like the light all that well.”

Doc sighed, scratched the back of his neck apprehensively, and finally said, “Be careful, Ren.”

“I will,” Ren reassured him, trying not to sound too impatient. “Go get some rest, old man.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Your soul is older.”

Doc rolled his eyes, but nudged the cart into motion, muttering a quick apology to xB and Hypno for not joining. Ren followed the owners of Horsehead Farms onto their property, walking along a path shielded by wind-ruffled wheat. In the fading sunlight, it seemed to Ren like he was walking between lakes of liquid gold, the faint shimmer of wind across it like soft waves making for shore. Harvest would be coming in a month, two at the most. Then Gem would be braiding flowers into Ren’s over-long hair, and he’d spend a few weeks repairing sickles and hoes and bailing hay. They’d count the weeks until the potatoes and carrots came out of the ground, watching the days shorten into fall and winter and the first snows buried the countryside. By the time he was walking up the steps of xB and Hypno’s house, Ren had managed to lull himself into a nostalgic sort of melancholy, the kind brought on by a tired body and an idle mind.

“Go ahead and leave your boots at the door,” Hypno said, discarding his own muddy boots on the porch and tethering Ren back to reality. “There’s no sense ruining the floors.”

Ren did as he was told, kicking his boots off at the door before entering the residence - a place that was familiar to him after his frequent work in their sawmill. Hypno and xB’s house was a two-story log cabin that Ren always found luxuriously big for just two people. The ground floor consisted of a kitchen, a living and dining area, and a guest bedroom. All three rooms were separated by sliding doors, and every room’s floor was a different, hand-laid pattern blocked in colorful woods. There was a precarious staircase lining one wall, more aesthetic than function, that led to a lofted second floor where two more bedrooms and a sitting area huddled. Hypno made for the kitchen pantry, rolling out a small cask of wine while xB took a few extra moments to scrub his shoes off and stack them neatly in a bin near the door. They were lined up amongst nearly a dozen assorted boots and shoes, all the same size. Two pairs showed the wear of regular use, while the rest were pristine, likely reserved for special occasions. Some were cut and dyed with patterns and designs, sporting brightly colored leathers accented by shimmering embroideries. Ren recognized a slime pattern on one set that reminded him of Jevin, and he wondered if the trader had procured them for xB at some far-flung corner of the earth.

Ren raised an eyebrow at the assortment. "xB my dude, d’you think you've got enough shoes there?"

xB laughed. "What? Can't a guy appreciate a good pair of shoes?"

"Twelve good pairs?"

xB shrugged, and then squeaked in surprise as Hypno uncorked the wine cask with a loud pop. He started pouring wine, taking care not to spill any of the precious drink on the counter top.

“It feels sorta sacrilege, drinking wine out of regular cups like this,” Hypno observed as he pushed one of the cups across the counter. It slid easily on the hard surface, coming to a rest in front of Ren. After he finished pouring for himself and xB, Hypno smirked and held his cup aloft. “A toast. To a wedding you missed, for a pair of folks we barely know.”

“And to the baron, for giving us a reason to drink too much,” xB interjected, elbowing Ren playfully. Ren chuckled and clinked their cups together: “Here here.”

Hypno's cup joined the chime, and the three of them threw back their drinks in unison. Ren took a long pull from his, stopping to breathe and lick the aftertaste from his teeth. The wine was bitter and dry, with a sweet bite near the end that he found pleasant. He thought maybe that meant it was supposed to pair well with dairy? Or cheese? He didn’t really know a lot about wine, come to think of it; but he’d heard folks were supposed to eat cheese with it at some point in his life. Hypno and xB drained their glasses in a few long gulps, and xB let out a satisfied sigh as Hypno moved to pour him another cup full.

"You really outdid yourself this time, Hypno," xB beamed, taking his newly refilled drink back gratefully.

"Blackberry wine," Hypno winked in Ren's direction. "Old family recipe. Enjoy it while we have it, because I doubt I'll be making more anytime soon."

"I didn't know your family was in the wine-making business," Ren observed politely, taking another sip from his glass. "I figured it was all farming for you guys."

Hypno wiggled his hand in an "eh" sort of gesture.

xB’s eyebrows furrowed, frowning as subtly as he could manage. “It’s still a family business.”

"Not really," Hypno shrugged. He pulled his glass up to his mouth again. "Anyway, it was nice getting to make it again."

"How did the wedding go?" Ren offered, making a mental note to avoid talking about the wine business from here on out.

“Well, it was fine, I guess. The vex stayed away, which lightened the mood some,” xB explained as he hopped up on the counter. Hypno mirrored him, and Ren reclined against the cellar door lazily. “Let’s see… no one forgot any vows. The ring bearer actually walked down the aisle, which was a pleasant surprise.”

“Vigenere launched some kid.” Hypno noted, smirking.

xB chuckled. “Vigenere absolutely launched some poor kid. Well, it was the kid’s fault. Doc told ‘em not to pull her tail.”

Ren barked a laugh. “Some folks have to learn the hard way, I guess. Are they okay?”

“Bruised tailbone and ego, but in one piece.”

“Well that’s good.”

“The bride tried to throw the bouquet at False, for the bouquet toss thing.” xB continued, tracing his gaze up towards the ceiling as he tried to remember the full day’s events. “That went as well as you’d imagine. A really excited little girl got her hands on it by the end of the evening though. Gem did a great job on those arrangements by the way. How the heck did she find orchids?”

“Knowing her? She probably grew them,” Ren smiled warmly, and he tried to stamp down his nerves at the astonished looks they gave him. Right, most people couldn’t just… grow flowers out of thin air. “I mean… she’s got a lot of, you know, spots in the woods where she keeps track of flower patches. She tends them when she’s not doing farm work.”

“Seriously?!” Hypno exclaimed, and Ren hid his nerves behind the rim of his cup, taking a long drink and fervently hoping he could dodge any further explanations.

“Jeez, that girl can do everything, huh?” xB laughed, “Vegetable gardens, wild flower cultivation, goat herding, sewing-”

“Her back must hurt from carrying the team so much,” Hypno joked.

“Hey! I do work too,” Ren laughed, though really he was just relieved the conversation had moved on so quickly. “I fixed a chicken coop today.”

“Right, get back to me when you can grow enough wild orchids to decorate a wedding.” Hypno laughed. He extended a hand for Ren’s cup and refilled it. Ren hadn’t even realized he’d gotten to the bottom of his drink yet. “Guess she’s gotta keep herself busy somehow. Idle hands are a spirit’s playthings, and she’s full of mischief all on her own.”

The evening continued in lazy cycles of drinking and talking, until they were nearly done with the little barrel and Ren was covered in the thick blanket of a wine buzz. It was a pleasant, swimming, foggy feeling entirely different from the fog of the full moon he’d felt himself stifled under a few nights ago. This was heavy and comfortable, weighted with a giddy murk that kept a smirk on his face and surface-level thoughts on his mind. xB and Hypno talked on and on about the wedding, how pretty it was, and perfect, save for the odd hiccup here and there. The bride had wanted a painting done of her and her husband to memorialize the occasion, and so the wedding had started far later in the evening than anyone thought it would. It threatened to rain, but never actually did. The food was good, the people were happy. Everyone loved a wedding, after all, and Ren and Gem’s presence had been missed, but not enough to damper the spirits. Someone made pumpkin pie, but there’d been no leftovers remaining. Ren really wished he’d gotten a chance at the food. That was one thing about village living he’d come to appreciate: food. A wolf in the woods would never know the taste of a hot stew, or a warm pie, or freshly churned ice cream after a rare spring snow, but Ren certainly did.

“It was nice to see Doc there at the wedding. We were kind of worried he wouldn’t show up, since you and Gem weren’t coming.” Hypno yawned, and xB mirrored him a few seconds later. “He danced with the groom once.”

“Really?”

“Waltz,” xB chipped in, “with a full dip at the end and everything.”

“He looked like he was enjoying himself,” Hypno said. “Speaking of, is everything okay? Doc and Gem seemed a little uh…”

“Grim?” xB offered.

“Tired,” Hypno corrected politely. “We didn’t miss anything in town, did we?”

“No, everything’s fine. We’ve just been busy,” Ren sighed and rested his chin on his hand, the taste of the wine starting to turn bitter on his lips. “We helped down at the tannery today.”

xB let out a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat. Hypno shuddered. “That’ll do it. The tannery’s a lot of work.”

“How’s Cleo doing?”

Ren shrugged. “She seemed alright? Kinda downtrodden. Her and Joe both were. Can’t say I blame them. A whole town of folks and it’s the out-of-towners who have the decency to help them repair their chicken coop? That’s madness, my dudes.”

Ren took a long sip of his wine and watched Hypno and xB, trying to gauge their reactions to that. Tried to. Wine buzz aside, the day left him pretty insecure about his ability to pick up on social cues, what with Doc and Joe managing to hide their mutual drama so well. xB seemed to be mostly unphased, looking at his cup with the quiet disdain of someone who’d just realized it was empty again. Hypno’s nose was wrinkled in disgust, probably, but Ren figured that was just the memory of the tannery smell hitting him.

“Hypno, you think maybe we should run by their place tomorrow and see if we can’t lend a hand?” xB asked, setting his cup aside. Hypno scowled. “You can go. I’m not.”

“Come on, man. The farm’s for everyone.”

“And they’re absolutely welcome to it,” Hypno sniffed, crossing his arms stubbornly, “but I want nothing to do with Joe. You go right ahead without me.”

“You’re not gonna let Doc show you up, are you?” xB laughed. He elbowed Hypno gently, trying to break the tension. Ren, having nothing else to do but sit still and become increasingly uncomfortable, finished his glass. “If that man can work his way past a grudge, surely you can.”

“Doc’s allowed to win this one.”

xB shrugged, admitting defeat.

“So, not to make this conversation any worse than it already is,” Ren blurted out, surprising himself nearly as much as he did xB and Hypno, “but why is this a big deal? Like, the Joe thing? And Doc? And apparently you two now?” Ren tried to keep his voice even, or at least a little less indignant. He thought he sounded angry, figured xB and Hypno thought so as well, given the looks they were shooting his way. “My dudes, I can’t even begin to tell you how out of the loop I am right now. Joe’s a pacifist? Is that really such a big deal?”

“Yeppers,” xB said at about the same time Hypno said, “Absolutely.”

The two owners of Horsehead Farms glanced at each other, surprised this was a topic they agreed on. Hypno was the first to break eye contact, pouring what remained of the wine in his cup down the nearby sink drain.

“I mean, it’s not like we can really judge Joe’s decisions all that much,” xB spoke slowly, meandering out onto the thin ice of a dangerous topic. “We wouldn’t have the farm without the war.”

“Really?” Ren looked to Hypno, who scowled like he’d just tasted curdled milk.

“There used to be a small village here,” Hypno explained, gaze pinned to the wall somewhere over Ren’s left shoulder. “It got burned down at some point. Pretty sure everyone died. That patch of field behind the sawmill we don’t let you use? That’s a mass grave.”

“I- seriously?”

“Yeah. No one wanted the land around here because of it. We bought it super cheap from the baron.” xB seemed to be relaxing a bit. He didn’t sound quite as tense as he spoke, though Ren noticed his gaze would slip in Hypno’s direction frequently, like he was scared Hypno would disappear if he stopped watching for too long. “The first couple years, every time we passed a plow through, we dug up stuff. Broken bottles, bits of wood and brick, scraps of clothes and tools-”

“We found a box of teeth once,” Hypno added, an afterthought, far too casual for what it implied.

“Monster teeth, we think.” xB smirked at the disgusted look on Ren’s face. “They were all sharp and jagged.”

“That’s terrible, guys.”

xB shrugged, “That’s the valley.”

“You don’t get it, Ren. You wouldn’t. You’re not from here,” Hypno said gently, something like sympathy etched on his face. The comment still stung. It sounded to Ren like an accusation - you’re not one of us. “Jevin and the baron and his men… the vex… they’re the same way. You guys weren’t here for, you know, most of it. All of it.”

“I mean, I’d like to get it.” Ren spoke honestly. He did want to get it, as much as there was for him to get. “Nobody here talks about it. This is the most anyone’s ever said outright to me, and I still don’t know anything, my dudes.”

xB and Hypno exchanged another look.

“I mean throw me a bone here guys,” Ren pressed on, the wine in his head making him a bolder than he had any right being. “I don’t even know what I don’t know, you feel me?”

“What do you want to know, Ren?” xB asked, somehow managing to make a smirk look miserable. “It sucked. It was terrible. A lot of people died. That’s war for you. Really if you want to know more about it, you should talk to Doc. From what I hear, he actually fought in it.”

“You two didn’t?” It was a stupid assumption, Ren thinking everyone touched by the war had fought in it, but for some reason the news that xB and Hypno hadn’t, caught him off guard. xB swung his feet idly, and his left heel knocked against the cabinet door in an awkward, off-beat rhythm. He let out an uncomfortable wheeze of a noise, mulling over his discomfort. xB came to a decision, finalizing it with a sharp sigh. “Sure. Why not.”

xB cleared his throat nervously, ran a hand through his hair and said, “I was still a punk kid when everything went down. So, old enough to want to swing a sword, but young enough to have never touched one in all my dang life. Too poor to own that kind of thing anyway. And in true heroic fashion, the one time I picked up a sword off some dead guy, I just tripped over the frickin’ thing. Saved my life probably - the guy who was trying to kill me probably thought I stabbed myself and passed me over.” xB chuckled like that was funny, a universal, silly childhood experience like catching fireflies or chasing grasshoppers. Ren had trouble seeing the humor of it past the troubling mental image of a young xB prying a sword from someone's bloody fingers. xB soldiered on, heedless of the growing discomfort in the cramped little kitchen; “I’m a mean son-of-a-gun with a bow, but bows are tools, yanno? If you kill someone with a bow, it might be broken when you need to kill something to eat. And there was like, nothing to eat, man. Like I was used to not having much, but that was something different entirely. The forests were empty. Completely. I think it’s all the noise? Anything with a brain runs from all the screaming and smoke, up out of the valley and past the mountains. You could tell something big had gone down, because you’d see just flocks of birds flying away from it, and then a day or two later you’d see flocks of crows and vultures and stuff coming back. ‘S like watching the tide.”

“And the monsters,” Hypno muttered to the cup he held in his lap. Ren felt a nervousness twist in his gut, and he stifled the impulse to check his ribbon. 

“Yeah… that too,” xB agreed. “You know, when all the forest spirits die, or get angry and start killing things, the wildlife runs off. Crops wither. Fires spread further. And you had big beasts coming into the aftermath of places, eating with the carrion birds, and then getting hungry for people, ‘cause you know, they’re pretty easy pickings all things considered. Not like the monsters really needed an extra excuse. We- you know uh- well that was what the war was over in the first place, folks and monsters killing each other.

“Course, when the war hit my village, we knew it was coming. Whole villages were getting wiped off the map left and right. It was only a matter of time before we got got. And we did get got, uh, pretty good I think.” xB shrugged, “Village is gone now. Last I headed out that direction I think there was a well standing? Couldn’t tell you whose house it was from. When stuff gets destroyed that much, even the landmarks are gone.”

xB propped his elbow on his knee and dropped his chin into his hand, gazing thoughtfully into the middle distance. “Most of that stuff is a blur. I don’t really think folks are supposed to be able to remember that kind of thing? It’s like, lower than low, losing everything like that. And everyone, even.”

xB dwelled on that thought for a moment, and the quiet that stretched after his words was heavy, more shroud than silence. His eyes moved, searching the space in front of him, putting thoughts in boxes like he was trying to figure out what to say next, deciding what was worth telling and what was better kept for himself. Then, xB jabbed a thumb in Hypno’s direction a smiled fondly. “After the village burnt down and I was left wandering the place, I ran into this guy. Fresh off the winery getting destroyed, right Hypno? He was lost in the woods- well we both were. I stumbled into him, and he just about scared the life outta me. We bumped into each other and I… I uhm…”

xB frowned, watching Hypno expectantly. He was clearly expecting him to chip in on whatever harrowing or heartwarming event had brought the two of them together. Instead, Hypno’s gaze was pinned to the floor between his shoes, his hands clasped tightly in his lap like he was holding on for dear life. He cleared his throat, and his voice wavered just above a whisper as he said, “Can we, uh, not talk about this?”

Hypno was… crying? On the verge of it, valiantly holding himself together despite the tired misery that seemed to be seeping from every breath. Hypno brushed a hand up to his face, and it shook as it wiped his bangs away from his eyes. xB slipped off the counter and crossed over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Ren jerked upright from where he was leaning against the wall, his stomach tying itself in knots. “Oh jeez! Hypno I’m so sorry man! I- I wasn’t trying to-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Hypno batted xB’s hand away. He hopped off the counter in a rush, like he was suddenly seeking a hiding place. He laughed weakly, busying himself with the dishes in the sink, his back turned to Ren and xB where he could pretend he wasn’t as bothered as he was. “This is just- you know it's bad luck to talk about… this kind of thing… over wine made for a wedding.”

“Right, sure, bad luck,” xB hummed gently, stepping back to give Hypno his space. “You did a great job making it, by the way.”

“Yeah, it’s really good, my dude,” Ren chipped in overzealously.

“Thanks guys,” Hypno muttered, clearly annoyed at their attempts to be reassuring, but humoring them regardless. He swiped a hand across his eyes, trying to rid himself of the rest of his emotions. “You know, I’ve been thinking about asking Doc if I can put some grape vines on the edge of our properties. He’s got some fields over there that get good sunlight. And everything on the land out there grows so well.”

“I mean, we’d have to find a way to keep the goats out of it,” Ren said, and then winced at the disappointed slump in Hypno’s shoulders. “But hey, that’s not impossible to do! We’d just have to get creative with it.”

“Worst case scenario, Hypno, we can scope out some place on the farms for next season to put down some vines.” xB offered smoothly, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I was meaning to talk to you about rearranging the property anyway. The soil’s going to need a reset next season, so we’ll have to do a crop rotation.”

Hypno clung to talk about the farms like it was a lifeline, and once the conversation started, he pursued it doggedly, refusing to let it deviate back into its previous topics. Emotion still quivering his voice every few words, he launched into a speech about how the east field would be the best place to put the carrots next year, and how beetroots might replenish the soil in the north field. Some mention was tossed in about culturing mushrooms in the cellar. xB nodded patiently as he listened to Hypno talk, occasionally adding something or another about the cows and sheep, and how they’d need to be shifted to a new grazing field to prevent overgrazing. It was an intentional, jarring turn in conversation, and Ren humored it.

Honestly Ren felt… pretty guilty about bringing up the war in the first place. He should’ve known better. Ren wanted to blame the slip in conversation on the wine making him talk about things he normally wouldn’t. Making him think something was a good idea that he shouldn’t. The folks in Haltvale didn’t talk about the war for a reason, and he was ashamed he’d pushed that idea only to watch Hypno crumble because of it. He found it promising, though, that xB had been willing to tell him something, anything really. One more grim piece of a puzzle he’d only glanced the edges of, a dark lake he’d stepped a toe into, finally. His thoughts tread circles around the wine in his gut, and he decided it would be a long time until he asked anything like this of someone else.

The conversation lulled, tired and thoughtful, and the specter of the previous grim conservation sat on Hypno’s shoulders like he’d been soaked in it, a downpour on a heavy cloak, weighing him down. Ren could tell he was thinking, deep set in troubled memories that carried his gaze towards the floor when he was left idle for too long. xB had mercy on the three of them, and quietly suggested they all call it an evening. Hypno bid Ren goodnight and excused himself upstairs. xB pulled a lantern down from the shelf in the living room.

“I can’t walk you all the way up to the 8-side,” he said, “but I can at least get you to the edge of the property.”

“You don’t have to do that, xB,” Ren put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him as he wrapped a hand around the door handle. “You should get settled in for the night.”

“I don’t mind, really,” xB insisted, looking back up at the loft where Hypno flopped into bed. He called up the stairs: “If I’m not back in an hour, assume I got eaten by something.”

“Will do,” Hypno called back with a chuckle in his voice.

Smirking to himself, xB ducked into the night with Ren a step behind him, blinking against the pitch black that had rolled in after the sunset. They were only a few days out from the full moon, but clouds had rolled in over the mountains and the moonlight hadn’t broken free of them yet. They meandered down the road silently, xB’s lantern their only safety from the dark. The distant rattling of skeletons and zombies pricked on the edges of Ren’s hearing, but none wandered close. Not with the lantern to scare them off.

“Don’t beat yourself up over tonight,” xB said quietly, trying not to draw too much attention from the undead nearby. “You didn’t know he’d react that way.”

“No, I get it, my dude, it’s okay.” Ren ran a hand through his hair, belatedly remembering it was still tied back with the ribbon. His fingers caught on it awkwardly. “I should’ve known better than to bring it up.”

“It makes sense to be curious. I can't blame you for that.” xB laughed nervously, the noise clipped and strained. “You weren’t there. You probably think we’re all nuts for burying it. I'd think we're nuts.”

Ren opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. He wanted to reassure xB that he didn’t mind, really. That he didn’t think they were crazy, or that they were bad people. Mostly he just felt bad for spoiling an otherwise nice evening. It occurred to him though, that xB was trying to tell him something important, or at least something he found unpleasant.

“And about Joe, you’re right to feel- it's unfair. I mean, I’m pretty new to the forgiveness thing, as far as that’s concerned, and I thought it was kinda unfair when I still resented him. It's not like he was wrong. The stuff folks were doing, what was being done to them, it was cruel. It shouldn't have happened.” xB’s eyes darted across the road nervously, like he was scared of being overheard. He cleared his throat. “It’s just… it’s hard not to be resentful of someone who says you’re wrong for wanting to fight back. Like, we call it a war. It wasn't a war, really. War implies there's two clear sides, and they're fighting each other. And we kind of were but it wasn't that- people thought the world was ending. I can’t- I can’t describe it to you, Ren. It’s something you gotta live through. It’s uh- it’s actually a good thing you’re out of touch with it, in my opinion.”

“Then why talk about it, dude?” Ren asked, unable to stamp down the guilt crawling into his voice. “If it’s that bad- like, I’d understand if you told me to piss off.”

xB barked a laugh, and Ren splayed his hands out in front of him, “Well-!”

“You asked, Ren.”

“Well I didn’t know what I was asking. I’m sorry.”

xB shrugged, “And now you do.”

They stopped in the middle of the path, and looking around, Ren realized they’d made it to the fence edge that marked the property’s end. xB shoved his free hand in his pocket, and the two stood in silence for a moment, save for the distant moans of undead wandering through the trees. Ren tracked their movement, wary of approach. The halo of light they stood in was less reassuring so far away from anything like safety. 

“D’you know why I have so many pairs of shoes, Ren?” xB asked him suddenly.

“I dunno dude, because you like them?”

“Sorta,” xB held the lantern out to him, and Ren, not knowing what else to do with his hands, took it. “Shoes are really important, Ren. I had one pair of shoes growing up. They were hand-me-downs from the neighbors, ‘cause I couldn’t afford to get my own. My family was really, pretty poor. Uh, I hated them.” xB chuckled, and his smile was genuine. “They were the worst shade of puke green I’d ever seen in my life.” His smile faded. “When the house burned down in the attack, I ran out without those shoes. There wasn’t any time to grab ‘em. There wasn’t any time to grab anything. Not when everything’s on fire, and every shape in the smoke has a sword, or a crossbow, or an ax, and it’s killing everything that moves.”

“xB… man… I’m-” An empty I’m sorry died out on the edge of Ren’s teeth. xB didn’t look like a man seeking solace. He had a look like tired determination on his face, squaring his jaw and his shoulders. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You wanna know about the war, right?” xB shrugged. “Not a lot of people is gonna tell you, man. I collect shoes, because you don’t know what you’ve lost until you’re on day three running through the woods barefoot. But I don’t talk about being barefoot, Ren. I talk about shoes. Nice boots by the way. They look like they could carry you far in a pinch. Hard to lace up in an emergency though.”

xB looked out into the dark, facing the general direction of Horsehead Farms. “Hypno doesn’t think wine-making is a family business anymore. What d'ya figure that means?”

Ren clutched the lantern in his hands, and let that statement fall with his gaze to his feet.

“You’re curious. I respect that,” xB said, and his voice was pleasant despite the hard lines of his posture. He was still looking towards Horsehead Farms, feet firmly planted like he was weathering a strong wind. His hands were in his pockets, and his voice was even. “The culture of this place will tell you more than the people though. People don’t like to remember the end of the world, Ren, but they do. In little things. It’s in how they build their houses, and the clothes they prefer, and the superstitious things they do. It’s in the stuff they know, that, by all rights, they shouldn’t.”

Ren nodded, and xB reached around to give him a good-natured shove to his shoulder.

“Hey, man, don’t look so grim. You know, whatever monsters are left in the woods, and in our closest and under our beds…” The ribbon in Ren’s hair started to feel heavy, and for a glancing moment, Ren thought about his hunt that weekend. He watched xB, suddenly worried that somehow, he knew. Knew he was one of those monsters in the woods, still hunting. Almost getting people killed. Trying his hardest not to. xB sighed, a motion that wracked his whole body for how tense he was, and he seemed too caught up in his own exhaustion to notice Ren’s worry. It seemed to Ren like xB had aged ten years in the time they stood there talking. “Well… in spite of it all, the war ended, didn’t it?”

Ren didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even rightly know how to feel, outside of somber and kind of stupid - and a bit humbled as well, knowing xB trusted him enough to tell him what he had. xB for the most part seemed to be pulling into himself again, like he suddenly realized he’d left half his soul spooled out on the ground between he and Ren, and he needed to get it all tucked away again where no one could see it. The rattle of an approaching skeleton pulled their attention. Ren swept his gaze out into the night, trying to catch a glimpse of it in the trees.

“I should go,” xB whispered, suddenly conscious of how loud his voice was. “Keep the lantern on you, and you should make it back to the Octagon safe.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” xB gave him a reassuring smile, “The lights from town keep most stuff away from the farms anyway, and I’ll be quick and quiet. You just worry about yourself. Doc will have my head if you get hurt out here.” Then xB shed his jacket, saying, “It’s a beautiful night out, isn’t it?”

“Oh uh… I mean, I actually thought it was kind of chilly-”

“Thanks for having the wine with us, by the way,” xB interrupted him, folding his jacket over his arm and taking a step down the path. “It was nice to get to share it with you. Make sure you tell Hypno how much you liked it later. He’d appreciate that.”

“Yeah of course-”

xB dashed off into the night, devoured by the dark just as soon as he left the ring of lantern light. Ren stood there for far longer than he should have, feeling lost and confused in xB’s wake. He probably would’ve stood there for longer, if not for the sound of the nearby undead finally prompting him to move.

It was a lonely walk in the dark with only his spinning thoughts for company. Ren shivered as the night breeze whispered by him, and the lantern light fluttered. It was cool compared to the warmth of the house he’d been in, but aside from the scattered cries of undead, it was still. Only the highest tree branches swayed with the gentle wind, and the movement combined with the soft bobbing of his lantern made Ren feel like the path beneath his feet was bending. Bending like his thoughts, the way he skipped around his memories of the evening like a broken record. He thought, ultimately, he’d acted pretty stupidly tonight. Dredging up bad memories. Talking about the war. He wondered if xB would sleep soundly tonight after re-living so much, or if he’d do what Doc often did after a bad day, and dig for a suitable distraction. Those words from this morning, I needed the noise. Would xB and Hypno find themselves in need of some noise, when the house was quiet and all they had were their thoughts?

Ren rubbed the side of his face tiredly, stopping to wait as a creeper crossed the road far ahead of him. It slunk into the woods, not even bothering to glance in his direction. He waited for a few more moments before continuing, wary of it circling back to him, the hollow pits of its face lighting with rage. 

… when xB and Hypno talked about the big, scary, terrible monsters… did they think about him, or the idea of him, the same way he regarded the creeper on the road? Dangerous. Deadly. Best avoided at a distance if there was no clear way of killing it. Ren’s stomach turned. How quickly would they turn on him if they ever found out? He… was a monster, wasn’t he? Would he even resent them for turning on him, if that ever happened? Even after talking to xB about the war and how much he’d lost. And Ren found it funny, really, that so many people in town knew Doc fought in the war, but none of them knew he fought on the wrong side. He was a monster, too. Just like Ren. Just like Gem. Monsters in the woods. Herding goats. Helping the community. Slinking around in the dark. Afraid for their lives. Afraid of the vex. Afraid of the baron. Afraid of what would happen if someone found out…

Ren clutched a hand to the scar on his chest, and in the distant moans of the zombies in the dark, he could hear the phantom echo of a shot fired, and a howl ragged with blood. His hand clenched on the fabric of his shirt and he walked faster.

Ren never should have asked about the war. Or he should have asked Doc and Gem. Monsters. Like him. Even if he didn’t know exactly what either of them were, there would be at least the softened edges of familiarity. Then maybe what he heard would be gentler. Then maybe he wouldn’t be walking home in the middle of the night, guts full of bitter and tired and self-loathing. Then maybe he could pretend he wasn’t somehow the bad guy in all of this, even though he hadn’t been here when everything happened. He couldn’t remember much of his life outside of the valley, but surely it had been better than this? Surely there had been places he’d met humans and they weren’t terrified by the idea of him? Surely?

Ren’s hand reached for the doorknob of the Octagon, and it was only then that he realized he’d made it home, his feet carrying him where his mind didn’t. The house was dark, but he hadn’t really expected Doc and Gem to wait up for him. Ren looked up at the house in front of him and sighed. He needed to stop chasing his thoughts. He was tired, and thinking about things he had no control over, and really once he’d slept off what was left of the wine he’d feel much better about tonight anyway, so-

Something moved in Ren’s peripheral vision and he froze. Hand still clenched around the doorknob to the house, Ren turned slowly to look out to the field. The barn door was open.

Chapter Text

Ren watched the barn, unsettled by the feeling it was watching him back. There was a great black, gaping mouth where the doors should be, and the tiny windows on the bottom floor were far too close a parody of eyes for Ren’s tired mind and nervous imagination. He could see nothing in the darkness there, no hazy gray-tinted shapes of goats, nor the glint of light off the tools he knew to be hanging inside. It was only pitch black, a tunnel to the void, or a particularly nasty creature’s stomach. Maybe it was good that Ren couldn’t see the glint of anything in the darkness of it, if only so his imagination couldn’t run screaming and terrified from the specters of teeth. Ren held his breath and watched the yawning dark, trapped by the fear that the barn would come lunging for him just as soon as he looked away. He stood there for far longer than he should’ve, daring the barn to flinch, or devour him, or really do anything besides crouching there pretending to be inanimate. Eventually, after arguing with himself over how ridiculous he was being, Ren managed to look away.

Ren leaned to look around the side of the house, the barn looming in his peripheral vision threateningly, and blinked in quiet dismay at the goats he counted in the field. It seemed to him the whole herd was outside, or very nearly. He even recognized the spindly legs of one of the kids huddled against its mother’s side. It wasn’t… completely unheard of for the goats to wander out of the barn at night. Doc left the barn door cracked for exactly that reason. But to see the whole herd outside was… well it just didn’t happen. Even weirder still, the bulk of them were huddled against the back fence, as far from the barn as they could get. This was a problem for a number of reasons, the main one being that the woods were too close to the fence on that side. Anything could be lurking out there at night, and many of those lurking things had a taste for goat. Some of those things also had a taste for people, but Ren firmly shoved that thought away just as soon as it came to him.

Ren stood on the porch and chewed on his lip nervously, before piecing together what little courage he had and creeping towards the gate. He set the lantern on the nearest fence post and, pausing one more time to try and swallow his unease, hopped over it. Maybe… maybe Doc had just gone out to sleep in the barn again? It seemed pretty irresponsible of him to leave the doors completely open… maybe one of the goats had kicked it or something? Then again, after the creeper scare this morning, it’d be a stupid idea to leave the doors open at all.

“Doc?” Ren called as loudly as he dared, wary of drawing the attention of any undead. Sure, nothing could jump over the gate, but a skeleton could shoot past it with ease. Should he maybe… untie his hair? Just in case? Ren reached up for his ribbon and stopped. No… no the goats would just scatter if they smelled him. Or trample him maybe. Beaufort had been pretty aggressive the day of the full moon. As fun an idea as fighting Doc’s goats had been when he’d been moon-drunk, his current more rational mind knew those goats could tear him up if he wasn’t careful. Probably best to keep the ribbon in then. Ren rubbed the back of his neck and looked around the field. His eyes settled on the yawning black of the open barn again. 

“Doc, you in there, brother?” Ren called again, and then swallowed hard when he got no reply. It was too dark to see movement within, and when he held his breath and listened… Well, all he heard was the goats, and the forest. Ren could feel his pulse fluttering quicker in his chest, and he swallowed again. It’d be nice if he could see, if only to make it less scary. A wolf could see in the dark. He could see, if the sky weren’t so overcast. What he wouldn’t do for a stiff wind right now, something to keep the clouds moving on their way.

“Right. I’ll just… get the goats,” he said to nothing in particular. He crept to where the herd was huddled on the far side of the field, keeping one hand on the fence and the barn in his peripheral vision, just in case. Just in case. He shivered. 

“Hey you guys,” Ren whispered as he approached the herd, “what are you doing out here? You’re one strong zombie away from getting yanked into the woods. Not to mention coyotes and bears and- Vigenere?!”

Vigenere rushed him, horns swinging threateningly at his chest, and Ren scrambled away from her as quickly as he could manage. He tripped over his own feet, flailed and half tumbled, but somehow managed to stay on his feet. She pulled up short a few paces from him and snorted, content that she’d gotten him on the defensive. She stamped a hoof on the ground and lowered her head threateningly, warning him of her horns. Ren checked his hair - no, his ribbon was still in place.

“Woah, hey, it’s me,” Ren shushed her. “I’m not gonna hurt the herd, come on. Why aren’t you in the-?”

Ren blinked, and it was hard to see in the dark, but he thought there was something dark blotched against her fur. Ren held a hand out and approached slowly, and this time Vigenere let him, though her ears were pinned back and she kept her head low. If she were a dog, Ren figured she’d be growling at him. Honestly, he was a bit surprised she didn’t growl at him anyway. Growling definitely seemed like a thing Vigenere could figure out how to do.

“Hey, it’s alright, we’re good. Don’t, you know, launch me over the fence or anything.” Ren pressed a hand against Vigenere’s side to let her know where he was standing, and took it as a good sign when she didn’t immediately spin and try to trample him again. He reached up to the side of her face, and she yanked her head away from him just as soon as he’d touched her. The dark came away onto his fingertips, and Ren scowled down at it.

“D’you get your head stuck in something?” Ren asked her, wiping the blood off on his pants before the smell could bite his nose. Ren put a firm hand on the side of Vigenere’s neck, turning her head in the direction of the barn. “See? This is why we can’t have you guys sleeping outside. Now come on- hey!”

Vigenere swung her shoulder into him, and Ren tumbled into the rest of the herd. Vigenere stepped in front of him, a sharp hoof coming down dangerously close to his hand. She lowered her head in the direction of the barn and stood. Ren’s heart was in his throat as he got to his feet. He swallowed, and he locked his eyes again on the barn. 

“Something’s in there… isn’t it?”

Vigenere, of course, didn’t answer him. Even if she could, she didn’t have to. It was pretty clear to him that she was keeping her body between the barn and the rest of the herd, and had decided after she recognized him, that he counted as something worth protecting. Ren might find it touching, if he weren’t thoroughly terrified by the fact that he was now obligated to shoo whatever had wandered into the barn, out of it. Ren placed a hand on Vigenere’s flank and came around beside her again, this time managing to step out of the way when she shoved her shoulder towards him. He stepped nervously towards the barn, stopped and looked back at Vigenere. It occurred to him that having a bad-tempered, horse-sized goat would be a good thing against whatever thing could be sneaking around in the darkened barn.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to come with me?”

She blinked at him quietly.

“If I were Doc, you’d come with me.”

Vigenere snorted.

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Ren huffed out a long sigh. He squared his shoulders and continued up the field, hoping if he pretended he wasn’t scared, at some point his fear would just… leave. He tried to focus less on the dark barn, and more on the flickering lantern light, which at this point seemed more like a beacon of safety than anything else. He wondered how much oil xB had put in it, if it might be in danger of suddenly snuffing out and leaving him in near-complete darkness. He stamped the thought down as best he could, fighting a losing battle against his own anxieties. As he neared the barn he slowed, and his heart fluttered quicker in his chest with every step forward. There must be a hole in the fence somewhere… a zombie had gotten in, that was all. Or, sure it could be a creeper, but he could outrun a creeper. He’d already done it once today! And really if it were a creeper, it would’ve seen him coming by now. A skeleton would be making more noise… Maybe it wasn’t some scary undead? Maybe a fox had gotten in, or Vigenere had gotten spooked by some noise and shooed all the goats out of the barn, and it was really just nothing. It could be nothing. He really, honestly, hoped it was nothing. His heart was a trapped bird in his chest, and his breaths shook, and really this wasn’t as scary as all that. He just needed to calm down. He just needed to-

Ren stopped, and he stared at the open barn, and he told himself he wasn’t afraid. The reason his heart was racing was because he was tired, and he was walking around at night, and that was hard work. The reason he felt so shaky was because of how cold it was, and the goosebumps on his arms proved nothing past the chill in the air. He wasn’t scared, really, he wasn’t. He… He peered into the interior of the barn, and he told himself it really wasn’t all that blindingly dark. It was just darker inside than it was outside, and it was pretty dark outside. That’s all it was. He should go get the lantern. The light would help. And the idea of lighting up the inside of the barn wasn’t scary at all, because then he’d be able to see, and no terrifying creature would be revealed when the light fell on the interior, because if there were some terrifying creature, he would’ve heard it by now. And even if there was some creature in the barn hiding from him, deadly silent, lying in wait to pounce and rip him to shreds, he shouldn’t be scared, because he was, probably, a much bigger, scarier thing than it was. So Ren retrieved the lantern, and he turned, and he took a step towards the barn. And-

And something moved on the roof. Something moved on the roof, and at first, he thought it was just a strand of his hair that had fallen into his face, or some leaves knocked loose by a breeze that didn’t exist, or any other number of things he fervently preferred it was. Vigenere, from the other side of the pasture, let out a loud call, warning her herd that something was wrong. The thing on the roof moved again, fluttering like Ren’s heartbeat, quick and jerking. There was a long scratch, claws raking across the shingles, and Ren took a step back. He clutched the lantern to his chest, like the light could somehow protect him. Like it could ward off whatever things crept in the dark, a flimsy halo of safety. The thing scratched again, and then it rose, and it was standing hunched on the edge of the roof looking down on him. It was standing, and its eyes caught in the lantern light, glowing bright and wicked, and Ren found himself unable to move. His breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat, and his pulse was quick against the cold metal of the lantern in his hand, and the hair on his neck pricked in spite of the ribbon in his hair. 

I should run.

He couldn’t move. He was stuck staring, pinned by the eyes on the roof. And the dark silhouette against the gray-black of the sky moved instead, unfurling great wings on its back, long and thin and jagged on the ends. 

I should run, he thought again, and he wrenched a step back with the same monumental effort he figured he’d need to move a mountainside. I need to get to the house. The thought was airy and distant, and so far away from what his body seemed able to do. He was rooted to the ground, and he was begging himself to rip free, and he was certain it wouldn’t matter either way. I need to get inside. He felt sick. It’s going to get me. He felt frozen. It’s going to- He felt- it’s- He was scared-- I need to-- He was frozen--- I--- He couldn’t-- it’s a---- 

“Vex,” Ren breathed.

The vex leaped off the roof, and whatever spell holding Ren in place shattered. He spun on his heel and ran, and he must have screamed for help, because a light flickered on in the house, and there was a silhouette passing the window, and there was a rushing in Ren’s ears as the thing beat its wings. Ren looked back over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of claws just before they slammed into him, digging sharp into his skin. The full weight of the creature landed heavy on his back and shoulders, and Ren plowed into the ground, barely managing to throw the lamp away to keep from landing on top of it. He and the vex tumbled, and his face slammed into the side of a fence-post that he swore wasn’t there a second ago-

“Alright, so, just to make sure we’ve covered all of our bases,” False said, her notebook open and a pen poised to take the same notes she’d already taken, “one more time. What exactly happened last night?”

“The story hasn’t changed from the first five times you asked me, False,” Ren grumbled bitterly. He had a rag full of mostly melted ice pressed against his face, nursing what was surely swelling into a black eye. He was perched on the fence impatiently, baking in the mid-morning sun, wishing he could just go inside and sleep off the rest of the day- all while everyone else was determined to keep him from doing just that.

When he'd come to after his crash into the fence post, it had been to a pale barely-dawn that saw Gem relieved he was awake, and Doc making the long trip into town to get help. By the time the sun was cresting the mountains, False had arrived to help Doc clear the property of any further menace, Cub and Scar in tow, picked up along the way as they’d headed to check in at Horsehead Farms. Once everyone was reasonably sure no creature was still stalking the farm, False settled in to get Ren's account of what happened, pointedly ignoring the pair of vex swooping around the property like they owned the place. 

Ren didn't want the vex anywhere near him, but Doc hadn't asked them to leave yet, so they stayed. Presently they were doing whatever passed as a “barn inspection”, which mostly consisted of Scar annoying a cat he’d found romping in the straw. Presently, he was cradling it in his arms like a particularly sharp and hissy baby. Cub combed the loft for any clue of the creature that had attacked Ren last night, though so far, he’d turned up nothing. Between the pair of vex, the sword sheathed on False’s hip, and everything that was last night, Ren was all nervous exhaustion and little else. His stomach twisted in knots, turning persistently whenever the vex made any new, startling noises. He wanted them gone. 

“I’ve gotta make sure we got everything,” False insisted, giving Ren a good-natured smile. “This is the last time, promise. So, you got attacked by something.”

“It came off the roof and tackled me,” Ren kicked a foot in the general direction of the skid-marks in the grass by the fence post, “and I smacked my face.”

“What did it look like?”

“Like a vex, False.”

“What exactly did it look like, Ren?”

Ren sighed and screwed his eyes shut. He placed his head in his hands and thought for a moment. “It was really dark last night, my dude.”

“You’ve gotta try.”

“I dunno- I mean it was big, obviously. It shoved me into the dirt.”

“Not necessarily,” Scar chipped in suddenly, looking up from the cat squirming to get out of his grasp. “I mean, I could knock you over but I’m way bigger than you so-”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cub agreed, leaning down from the loft. “Anything jumping off the roof could. I could. Gem’s the smallest person here, right?”

Gem paused halfway through tugging a brush through Vigenere’s fur, suddenly very aware both vex were watching her. She hesitated for a long moment, gaze trailing up to the roof of the barn. “I mean, if you push me off the roof I’ll probably die, guys.”

Scar snickered. Cub flashed her a bemused smile, like tossing Gem off the roof hadn’t been his original intention, but once mentioned the idea sounded intriguing enough.

“That’s a good point, actually,” False hummed. “Anything coming off the roof with speed will probably take you off your feet. What do you think, Doc?”

Doc was standing on the porch, leaning against the wall and keeping silent watch over the world in front of him. Since False and the vex had arrived, he hadn’t said much. He simply stood, arms crossed, looking vaguely intimidating in the shadow of the house - or at the very least looking aloof and hard to read. Ren couldn't really tell for sure, but he figured this is what passed for anxiety on Doc. Doc considered for a long moment before answering guardedly: “Probably yeah… especially when Ren was running away from it."

Ren scowled. "You say that like running's not a reasonable reaction to an angry vex on the roof."

"We don't know if it's a vex yet," False corrected him.

"I know what I saw, False."

Doc cleared his throat. "I just meant that most folks lean forward a bit when they run. So if you were leaning forward, and they were swooping, you know, they would take you off your feet easier."

“Ren, you said it stood on the roof,” False pulled the conversation back to her again. “Do you remember how tall it was?”

“Uh… I mean… it was sort of hunched over, I think?”

“Scar, Cub,” Doc called, and then gestured towards the barn. The pair of vex exchanged a look. Scar gave a long, over-dramatic sigh and sat the cat down he’d been holding.

“I always have to do all the work around here don’t I?” Not bothering to wait on a response, Scar jumped into the air. He wobbled for a moment on unsteady wings before landing on the rooftop. He slipped on the shingles, claws scrabbling for purchase, and Ren flinched at the familiar sound.

“It made that noise,” he pointed out to False, and she nodded and made a note.

“Woo! Okay.” Scar called. He crouched dramatically, claws and wings splayed, grinning, “Ooo I’m a big scary monster, coming to eat you Ren.”

Cub barked a laugh. “Be careful dude, you might scare someone.”

Ren scowled and rolled his eyes, wincing when the motion sent a throb through the growing bruise on his face. He measured Scar against the sky and shook his head.

“Scar’s too tall.”

“Well, obviously.” Scar said haughtily, raising himself up to his full height again. “If someone like me came swooping down, a little guy like you would probably get a concussion.”

"At least," Cub said.

"At least," Scar agreed with a nod.

Cub hopped down out of the barn loft, landing crouched in the straw before leaping skyward and circling the roof to join Scar. The shorter vex mimicked Scar’s pose, wings spread and claws bared, nearly knocking Scar off the roof in the process.

Ren cleared his throat nervously. “I… guess that’s closer? It looks more right… I think.”

False jotted down something else on her notepad, probably Cub’s height. Ren tried not to squirm too much under Cub’s gaze as the vex watched him, calculating something behind his swirling eyes. Cub glanced over his shoulder at Scar, who was making a show of stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“Hmm,” Scar hummed. "Ren, where were you standing when it swooped down?”

Ren looked to False, who shrugged. He hopped to his feet and walked over to the scuff in the grass that marked where he’d fallen. When he looked up at the barn roof, Cub was still half-crouched there, wings out for balance, and Ren swallowed hard. His stomach twisted nervously. If it weren’t for the light, and the people around him, and the fact that he could actually see Cub on the roof… this could be last night again. Ren was certain of it. Cub noticed his unease. His ever-present vex smile sharpened around its edges. Cub dove for Ren, a single fluid leap that turned rapidly into a streaking blur of gray, blue and white. Ren gasped, a now familiar, frigid horror rooting him in place. Before he could think of running, False grabbed his arm and shoulder and ripped him towards her. Her hands against the claw marks the creature left on his shoulders burned. Cub landed heavily in the space Ren had been standing, tearing up the grass as he skid to a stop on the ground, long talons leaving grooves in his wake. He straightened, folding his wings neatly against his back and clapping the dirt from his hands. Cub looked up at Scar expectantly, and Scar nodded back.

“Yep, that settles it then,” Scar crowed smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. “The thing that attacked you last night wasn’t a vex.”

“Really?” Ren asked, his voice higher and more strained than he wished, but he was finding it harder and harder to keep his composure. “Because that looked like a pretty perfect recreation.”

“Yeah, no, if it were a vex, you’d be dead, dude,” Cub said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He flashed Ren an easy smile that contrasted dissonantly with his words. “Claws aside, I could break your neck from that high up, easy.”

Ren suddenly found it hard to breathe. He didn’t like the way Cub was talking, like killing him was just a simple thing, and last night would be easily repeated and followed through with. Cub was watching him, and Ren was starting to feel frozen in place again, like he wouldn’t be able to turn and run if Cub lunged at him again.

“The whole house was unawares,” Cub continued. “Doc said he heard you talking but didn’t get up until you were yelling for help. Gem was asleep. If it’s a vex, they kill Ren on the dive, and if they miss, they have twenty, thirty seconds before Doc shows up to help. That’s plenty of time. Plenty of time.”

Cub gave Ren a sidelong glance, gauging his reaction, and then looked to False, “Do you know of any flying creatures that could do this kind of thing? Something lightweight, and about my height on average.”

“I’ll have to check my books,” False replied coolly. She closed her notebook and tucked it away. “Well, I think we’ve traumatized the Octagon enough for today. Ren, thank you for speaking with us.”

“...right.” Ren breathed, trying to reign in some of his nerves. He leaned against the fence behind him, feeling like he’d just run a marathon. “You’re uh, welcome I guess.”

“You two vex want to fly ahead and make sure there’s no monsters to ambush me on the road?” False asked, and her voice was kind, but there was a bite to her smile that Cub and Scar heeded quickly. Scar only paused to grab the barn cat before flying off, shushing it pleasantly as he flew. Ren might find the whole picture funny, Scar wobbling through the air with an angry cat hissing at him the whole way, if he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up into the grass at any moment. When the vex were out of sight, False put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, I think it’s probably a vex too.”

“What makes you say that?” Gem asked, reminding Ren she was still there, hiding behind Vigenere. She’d long stopped brushing the goat’s fur, and was watching him over her back with wide eyes.

“Because for all of Cub’s talk, he failed to mention vex like messing with people,” False scoffed. “I mean, that’s pretty obvious, I think. He knew he was scaring you guys. But that’s a very vex thing, giving folks a good scare before coming back for them.”

“You think it’ll be back?” Ren laughed tensely, because it was the only reaction he had left that didn’t involve running into the house and hiding in the nearest closet.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” False said as gently as she could. “You lot live the farthest out from town. You’re easy to go after.”

“Oh brilliant.”

“The good news is, you know it’s out here now. Make yourselves really hard to hunt. Stay in pairs at all times, keep the place well-lit, try not to go out after dark,” False instructed them, looking to Doc, who nodded his understanding. “We’ll keep an eye out in town as well. If we go a few days without hearing from you three, I’ll get a group and we’ll visit.”

“You might want to let Hypno and xB know, too,” Doc suggested. “They’re our closest neighbors.”

“I’ll do that on the walk home,” False nodded. She took a step to leave, thought for a moment, and then asked: “Doc, do you have any weapons in the house?”

“We’ve got some hunting bows, but ahm, not really, no.”

False nodded. She untied her sword and sheath and passed it over to Ren. “Hang onto this until things blow over.”

Ren swallowed hard and took it, and the weapon was heavy and cold in his hands. 

“One last thing,” Ren clutched the sword to his chest and turned to face Doc as he spoke. His voice was quiet and stern, and he looked ominous in the shadow of the porch, arms crossed. False leaned on the fence, offering him her full attention as well. “And False you can tell me if you think this isn’t necessary but… people are going to talk, you know. It’s a small town, it’s hard to keep secrets. And really, an attack like this shouldn’t be secret anyway. People need to know there’s danger.”

“But?” Ren prompted him.

“I think we shouldn’t tell people it was a vex.”

“But False just said-!”

“No, he’s got a point,” False held a hand up, cutting Ren off. “If there’s a monster attacking people in the woods - vex or otherwise - we need the community to band together. If things escalate, we’ll need to contact the baron.”

“The first thing folks around here think of, when the baron gets brought up, is the vex,” Doc gestured in the vague direction Cub and Scar had flown off to. “But if people think there are vex attacking people, they’ll stop trusting our vex, and they’ll stop trusting the baron. Which will, ahm, well it’ll get pretty messy if the baron has to send his troops over for a hunting party.”

False nodded her agreement. “Yeah. Just… drop the vex part for now. Until we know for sure that’s what it is.”

“If it is a vex though,” Gem asked nervously, “what then?”

“You let me handle that when it comes to it,” False said firmly, though her voice was still pleasant. Ren thought maybe she was trying to be reassuring - it was her work to deal with, so they shouldn’t worry. Looking across to Gem though, Ren thought she was definitely still worrying, and so was he. False waved one last farewell and began the long walk down the road, leaving the Octagon alone once again. Ren thought he’d much prefer if she stuck around. A sword didn’t mean much when no one knew how to swing it.

Chapter Text

“Scar’s right,” Doc said, breaking the silence of the house. “The thing that attacked you wasn’t a vex.”

The three of them had settled into a nervous silence as the day turned to evening, peppered with small talk but ultimately a bit too miserable for their regular joking and bickering. Ren had tried to sleep, but every time he tried, he saw specters of eyes and wings, and he’d jolt back to full wakefulness with his heart racing. It was hard to get comfortable, when his shoulders reminded him of their scratches every time he shifted his weight and his face stayed persistently sore. The bruise had only gotten bigger throughout the day, and the deepest parts of it were steadily purpling. He figured the black eye would swell his eye shut by tomorrow, if it weren’t for Gem.

Gem put her nervous energy to use sewing, mending first Ren’s torn shirt and then a few of her own. She had a small pile of clothes in the living room, unfolded, wobbly stitches lighting up the fabric with bright colors. She was in the habit of mending tears with clashing colors - red shirts had blue and purple thread darning them, green was sewn with yellow and red, and so on. It was a cute bit of color, but she was too nervous to concentrate on it for long. She rushed through the stitches thoughtlessly, habit the only thing guiding her hand. Eventually, after listening to Ren moan and complain about his various aches, she’d set about mending him instead. She untied her hair and made him sit at the dining room table while she laid her hands on his shoulders.

Ren had been healed by Gem before. It was a rare thing, an act of magic that took time and effort that normally wasn’t worth it in anything but the harshest of circumstances. Her magic was faster than a body healing in its own time, but even something as shallow as the cuts on Ren’s shoulders would take an hour or two of work. Gem was worried about him though, and probably scared of how close she’d come to losing him the night before. She sat beside him and waited for the magic to take effect, occasionally pestering him to sit still when he shifted.

With her ribbon off, her magic bloomed. The breeze swaying in from the open kitchen window was thick with the scent of grass and flowers, and in the ceiling old wood creaked as it greened. Moss shivered its way across the table, and Ren picked at it with his nails, fighting boredom.

Doc had tended the herd in the morning and, seeing their needs were met, settled into his chair to do some carving, offering any comfort he could with his watchful presence. The carving was a habit he’d picked up when he’d lost his arm, trying to teach himself some much-needed dexterity in his left hand. He had a particular knife he carried on his person at all times, a white blade with a blue-green handle, and often when they were working out on the farm, on a trip to town, or any other idle chore where he had a few minutes to himself, Doc would pull it out with a small block of wood scrap and carve. For today’s session, Doc made a line of three little wooden goats that he propped up on the arm of his chair, the last of which he placed as he spoke. Its head was bowed, much like Vigenere’s had been last night when she was charging.

“I know what I saw, Doc,” Ren said defensively. “Even if I wasn’t sure before, Cub diving at me earlier- my dude, it looked just like that.”

“I’m sure it did,” Doc agreed, unphased, “but they weren’t a vex. I don’t think so, anyway.”

Ren scowled. He opened his mouth to retort, but Gem beat him to it. “Well, Doc, what do you think it is, then?”

“I don’t know,” Doc admitted with a shrug, and he picked up a new scrap of wood to carve. “Whoever they are though, they’re probably one of us.”

One of us. A monster. Something in Ren's already sour mood started to curdle.

“If it’s-” Doc raised an eyebrow at him, and Ren snorted out a breath through his nose, “if they’re one of us, then why the heck did they attack me?”

“Well Ren, we do a good job of hiding,” Doc shrugged. “They probably don’t know-”

“They shouldn’t be attacking anyone,” Ren scolded, and Doc smirked like he’d said something funny. “What? I mean, they’ve gotta have some common sense, right? You don’t just walk into the valley and start killing people.”

“They might not have been trying to kill you,” Doc pointed out, shaving off a rough shape on one side of his carving. “They might have just been trying to scare you. Or maybe they were trying to kill you and they’re not very good at it, I guess. But Cub was onto something. Anything coming in that fast would have a hard time not killing you. And while maybe your yelling scared them off, if they were hungry, or I dunno, cursed or something-”

“You think it was a werewolf?” Ren laughed bitterly.

Doc shrugged. “I think they could’ve been a lot of things. But vex, when they get the chance to kill something, kill it. That thing? Didn’t.”

“What about what False said?” Ren asked, moving to stand, but Gem pulled him back down again irritably. “It could be a vex messing with us.”

“Why not attack the goats then?” Doc countered, brushing some curled wood shavings from his lap. He slipped the point of his knife across one of the corners of his wood block, defining something that might eventually be a leg. “Sure they’re big, but we have kids around you know, and one of the nannies is still expecting. They’d be an easier target, and there isn’t much more unnerving than waking up to dead livestock.”

“Vigenere had a cut on her face this morning,” Gem noted, and Doc stopped his carving mid-stroke.

“What?”

“It was right behind her eye.”

“She was bleeding last night,” Ren chipped in. “You think maybe she tried to fight whatever-it-was off?”

Doc fell silent, his eyes searching the floor as he mulled that over. “Maybe,” he settled on uncertainly.

“Maybe?”

“It could be a number of things,” Doc shrugged and resumed his carving. “Though her chasing around a flying thing that might kick with clawed feet - ahm, it is a possibility. Tactically though, it makes no sense to go after the biggest goat in the herd. You’ll pick off something small first.”

“Tactics, Doc?” Ren barked a laugh, and Doc glanced up at him, an eyebrow raised. “This isn’t organized dude, it’s a crazy vex in the woods!”

“We don’t know if they're a vex yet.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Ren shouted, getting to his feet. Gem grabbed for his shoulder again but he yanked away from her. “I know what I saw, guys! I mean-! Jeez, have I ever lied to you before?”

“No one’s calling you a liar, Ren.”

“You’re not believing me either!”

“Ren, you said so yourself, it was dark out. And you’re scared of vex, man,” Doc set his carving aside and brushed a few more shavings from his lap. “Of course that’s what they’re going to look like. But-”

“No one’s even managed to name one other thing it could be!”

“Just trust me on this man, I know how vex work.”

“Well I know what one looks like when it’s dive-bombing me!”

“Ren, you’re being-”

“You know, there’s an easy way we can settle this.” Ren and Doc both turned to Gem, the calm stern of her voice a sharp contrast to their arguing. She had her arms crossed and a chastising sort of frown set into her face. “Since someone won’t sit still.”

Ren cleared his throat and looked away apologetically. 

“You’ve got claw marks on your shoulder.” Gem jabbed a finger at Ren. “And Doc, you… well you got a little bit of everything."

Doc scoffed and sat back in his chair.

“We’ll just compare and contrast, guys. Simple.”

Ren looked to Doc expectantly. “Well?”

For a few seconds, Ren thought Doc would say no. Eventually though, he shrugged and got to his feet. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.”

Gem nodded, satisfied, and went to fetch the standing mirror from her room. Ren peeled his shirt off, wincing at the sting when the motion pulled on his shoulder.

“Ahm… it’s a good battle scar,” Doc spoke appeasingly, trying to ease some of the tension away from them, an awkward smile in his voice. Ren rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want any more scars. I don't pull them off as well as you do,” Ren said, allowing himself some good-natured melodrama. Doc laughed at him, and Ren preferred it to the previous bickering, no matter how right he felt about it being a vex. The day had been quiet without laughter around. “Besides, I got them running away. I feel like that says something about being a coward, maybe?”

“There’s no shame in wanting to stay alive.”

Ren turned to face Doc, who was folding his shirt on his knee. As Doc moved to place his shirt in his chair, Ren had a clear view of the network of scars that tattooed themselves across Doc’s back and shoulders, a roadmap of harms long healed. Ren knew about Doc’s scars - there were many hot summer days that saw the both of them working with their shirts off, or going swimming in the nearby creek. He had even been there for some of the smaller ones, like the notch in Doc's knee he'd gotten when Vigenere kicked him last spring. The ones he hadn’t been there for though, Ren had never asked about. It always seemed rude, in the same way it seemed rude to ask Doc how he lost his arm or what the war had been like. Those were conversations Ren felt Doc should start and share willingly, because he trusted Ren to know and to not judge him. 

Looking at the scars now though, Ren’s mind was starting to walk itself in circles. Circles that started and ended with his conversation with xB last night, about people sometimes knowing things they really shouldn’t, and what that said about how they got that knowledge in the first place. Dots were connecting in Ren’s head about why Doc was so sure it wasn’t a vex, and how, apparently, if a vex wanted to kill you they would, and there was nothing you could do about it. Ren was starting to feel… kind of stupid, actually, for pursuing this argument. Really, Doc would know, wouldn’t he? He’d know more than Ren would.

Ren also thought it was too late to take it back now, since Gem just returned with the standing mirror and Doc was moving to help her set it up.

“Okay, so Ren, you go this way-” Gem directed him to stand with his back facing the mirror. Peering over his own shoulder, Ren was a little disappointed by the thin scratches that were giving him so much trouble. They were an angry looking red, scabbed over from the work Gem had put into healing them. Still, they looked more like he’d tripped and scraped himself up on the barn door, than they did a vicious attack by some unknown creature. The claw marks were splayed widely, three long, j-hooked lines with a point at the bottom where a thumbed claw tried to grab him. They tore into his skin, a glancing blow on a grip too shallow to really grab and drag him, which was likely what had saved him. The two sets of marks almost perfectly mirrored each other on his shoulder blades, though the right side was deeper where the creature leaned its weight on the favored leg.

Doc stepped up to the mirror beside him, studying himself for a moment, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered, like he hadn’t looked at his reflection closely in a while and he was undecided on whether he still liked what looked back at him. Finally, he lifted his prosthetic arm and pointed out a series of four lines that slash-marked themselves across his side and down into his abdomen. They were broken and a bit uneven, starting and ending at different points, but vaguely aligning themselves in the shape of a splayed hand. They were thicker than Ren’s, and moved more-or-less in a straight line, very different from the fish-hook curves carved into Ren's shoulders.

"Oh jeez," Ren muttered.

“Well that makes this easy I guess." Gem leaned around the side of the mirror and peered into the glass, not bothering to look at either of them directly. "Those look nothing alike."

Doc made a noncommittal humming noise in the back of his throat. Gem raised an eyebrow at him through the mirror.

"Mine is from a hand," Doc explained, roughly aligning his fingers with where the claw marks ended on his stomach. Each of the scarred grooves were the width of his fingertips, only thinning where they were the shallowest. "Something swooped down and caught Ren with their talons. They wouldn't match up, necessarily." Doc pressed his hand against Ren's shoulder. His fingers dwarfed the thin claw marks. "They should be bigger though. Vex have big claws. They leave thicker slashes- well, you saw where Cub tore up the grass today."

A brief image flashed through Ren's head, of skin splitting and tearing like the ground when Cub shredded through it. He shuddered.

 "So this is either a very small vex or they are something else with thin claws." Doc concluded.

“It’s probably not a vex though?” Gem asked him.

Doc shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Well thanks for humoring me, I guess,” Ren muttered, quickly shuffling away from the two of them to yank up his shirt. Gem shooed him towards the table, and Ren begrudgingly sat so she could resume healing him.

“You know, you really are pretty lucky,” Doc remarked as he slipped his shirt back on. He took up his knife, content to resume his carving. “There’s some big veins in your shoulders, you know. Important muscles, too. If they had gotten a good grip into your shoulder there, they could have done serious damage.”

Ren grimaced, flinching at Gem’s touch as she laid her hands on his shoulders again. 

Doc chuckled. “I could’ve made you a pretty cool prosthetic.”

Ren laughed uncomfortably, nervousness crawling around in his chest. He tried not to imagine what it would feel like for those claws to really sink in, for something vital in his shoulder to tear. He tried not to imagine it, and then he would glance in Doc’s direction, at the noticeable lump on his shirt where his prosthetic met his shoulder, and Ren’s stomach would start to turn.

Outside, the breeze rustled the grass, and it poured the warm smells of the pasture in through the open window. One of the towels hung on the stove fluttered. They should start dinner soon. Or maybe they would all be too nervous to eat as evening fell. Ren was nervous. He fidgeted with a plate set out on the table for a lunch none of them ate, filling the silent room with a clattering cadence that drowned out the scratching of Doc’s carving; scratching that grated on the edge of Ren’s hearing in similar tones to the sound of claws on the barn roof. 

“Why does it matter?” Doc asked, and it seemed obvious to Ren he’d been thinking too, turning thoughts in his head over and over, just like Ren himself was. Doc flipped his little carving upside down, cutting away some of the block to shape the belly of whatever it was he was making. “About them being a vex. Or, you know, not being one.”

Ren hesitated. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You seem pretty upset about it, for something that doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not upset.”

Doc smirked and said nothing. He pulled his knife across the little carving's side, defining a shoulder from the rest of the block. He blew off the shavings and cut again. 

“I’m just nervous.”

“Ah, well, it’s nice to meet you, Just Nervous. I am Just Curious.”

Gem groaned. “Doc that was the worst.”

“It’s just, they’re giving us a bad name attacking people like that,” Ren found himself saying. Doc turned his little carving in his hand, found a place it was missing detail he wanted to add, and set his knife to it again. “People are going to think-”

“This is Haltvale, Ren.” Gem doodled on Ren’s back with her fingertip, clearly bored. Every time she touched him, his skin tingled, magic curling from her hands like crawling vines, searching for harm.“We already had a bad name.”

Ren scowled. “We’re not evil.”

“Speak for yourself.” Gem hummed, a mischievous smirk in her voice.

Doc looked up from his carving, “Who said we were evil?”

“I- no one.” Ren set his eyes on the plate he’d been messing with, earnestly pursuing a speck that only his fingertip could scrub out, and ignoring Doc’s thoughtful stare boring into him. If he concentrated hard enough, he might be able to ignore his conversation with xB and Hypno last night, and how it kept creeping back into his head, and the way they talked about beasts eating corpses with the carrion birds, and the axes and bows and swords they carried when those same beasts burned down towns, and-

“It’s nothing.”

Doc shifted in his chair, leaning forward and letting his carving once again go forgotten. His knife hung like a claw from his hand, following the line of his pointer finger towards the ground. “Ren, it’s okay. I get it man, you’re scared. And things are confusing with how… well… this place isn’t exactly easy for people like us.”

Ren let the plate clack back down on the table.

“But bad people just happen sometimes,” Doc continued gently. “It’s, ahm, bad luck that they might be one of us, and it’s uncomfortable. It would be a lot easier if we could just point and say all the vex are evil, and the baron, and his hunters… but you know it isn’t like that. There are good and bad people everywhere. Sometimes those bad people are monsters. That doesn't make us evil. Mostly it just means whoever those bad people are, they're doing what bad people do best: making bad decisions."

"But they don't know that." Ren surprised himself with how small his voice had gotten. "Haltvale, I mean. They can't tell the difference."

Gem drew an upside-down heart between his shoulder blades. The wounds in his back were starting to itch instead of sting, soothed by the steady progress of her magic. Doc stood, brushing the curled wood shavings from his lap and calmly placing his knife in the little sheath on his hip. He pulled up a chair in front of Ren and sat down. Ren kept his gaze screwed to the plate on the table, filled again with the feeling he was being stupid.

"You're not evil, Ren," Doc said, his voice low and stern. “You’re right, Haltvale can’t tell the difference, but that’s their problem. Not ours.”

Ren huffed out a breath. He tried looking at Doc, tried to make eye contact and actually give the moment the weight it was due, but the grim seriousness of Doc’s expression made it hard. All he could think was he was being stupid, childish. He wanted to hide away in his bedroom until the feeling passed.

“Ren, you know I’ll keep you safe, right?”

In spite of himself, Ren laughed.

“I am being serious man,” Doc smirked at him. “You know I won’t let some weird maybe-vex-something carry you off.”

“Doc-”

“And, if it comes to it and Haltvale goes crazy, and the baron’s men show up here,” Doc continued, “I will make sure nothing happens to you. Either of you. I want you both to be happy, to live the best lives you can. And, ahm, you know I would do whatever I had to, to make sure you got the chance to do that.”

Doc took Ren’s hand and placed the little carving he’d been working on in his hand. It was rough still, in desperate need of some sanding to smooth the quickly carved edges and splinters, but it was very clearly a little wolf sitting in Ren’s palm. Ren looked down at it, and he still felt ridiculous, like he’d been overreacting, and Doc shouldn’t be soothing him as much as he was. But… he also felt warm. Between Gem’s healing touch and Doc quietly trying to convince him he’d look out for him… well, he felt a little less nervous at least. Ren cleared his throat, feeling suddenly emotional.

“Uhm… thanks, Doc.”

“Don’t mention it,” Doc chuckled. He leaned back in his seat, a smug grin making its way to his face. “We’re your pack after all, right dog boy?”

Gem wheezed and laughed. All the previous warmth Ren was feeling vanished. Doc lunged out of his chair, cackling maniacally.

“Get back here Doc!” Ren shouted, tearing after him through the house.

“Ren!” Gem cried in dismay, “I just healed your shoulder-!”

It was a small house. There were only so many places for Doc to run. The two collided in the hallway, nearly knocking a picture frame off the wall as Ren shouldered Doc into it. Doc wrapped his arms around Ren’s chest and heaved, and the two of them fell to the floor.

“I’m not a dog!” Ren growled, trying to get a hold on Doc’s midsection. Suddenly, the height difference between them made itself much more challenging.

“Ah, well, you wrestle like one,” Doc grinned, sweeping Ren’s legs out from underneath him. His elbow pinned Ren’s shoulder to the floor, and sensing defeat nearing him rapidly, Ren called out for the only help he had left.

“Gem! Get him!”

“You two are ridiculous,” Gem said, a wicked grin blooming in her voice.

“Gem!”

Doc cackled. “He made his bed, let him lay in it!”

“I’ll do the dishes for a week!” Ren cried desperately, trying to wriggle free of Doc’s grasp. It felt like trying to move a brick wall. All he really managed to do was mildly inconvenience Doc by pushing his face away, and even that only lasted until Doc grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the floor. 

“Two weeks,” Gem was already hovering over the two of them, arms crossed pleasantly behind her back, her smile mischievous.

“Deal!”

“Gem don’t-!”

Gem leaped into the fray, and the three of them tussled in a heap, laughing and spitting good-natured insults and knocking stray limbs into the walls of the cramped hallway. Eventually Doc made a mistake, and Ren and Gem managed to pin him to the floor, holding him there until he promised to make dinner in exchange for his freedom. 

For two days, things returned to normal. They tended the herd. They tended to each other. They stayed in pairs, not daring to be alone unless they were inside and there was daylight. xB and Hypno came by to visit, making sure all was well before passing the news on to the folks in town that nothing else odd and mysterious had happened. 

On the third day, False showed up on their doorstep looking for Doc. Something was wrong in Haltvale.

Chapter Text

“So your chickens are missing their eggs?” Doc asked, a bemused smile upturning the edge of his voice.

“Yep! Past two mornings now, not a single egg has been laid.” Joren Tommy said, standing amid the many gathered disgruntled townsfolk in Fountain Square. Normally domestic problems would be taken inside the Town Hall, not more than ten steps away from the crowd, but the vex weren’t allowed in the Town Hall, and given recent events at the Octagon, they had requested to be present for… whatever the discussion of this odd phenomena was. It was a pretty day outside anyway, the pinnacle of late summer. Currently Scar and Cub were perched on the weathered spruce roof of the tailor’s shop, Scar picking boredly at one of the wood shingles with his claws. Cub sat with his head in his hands and listened intently, eyes sweeping the crowd to track whoever was speaking. It was an unnerving gaze to be locked under, but Doc and False were the ones taking complaints and questions, and they were far more personable to talk to. They stood side-by-side in front of the Town Hall steps, False scribbling notes as fast as Doc could glean details. Ren didn’t envy her job. It was hard keeping track of thirty-some-odd complaints, especially since folks had a habit of talking over one another when they were scared.

Ren and Gem sat on the edge of the fountain in the center of town square, waiting patiently for… something. Honestly Ren wasn’t sure why they were here exactly, except that Doc could make the trip into town with False just fine, but he couldn’t make the trip back alone, given there was a monster-maybe-vex on the loose. With the fountain at his back and the sun on his skin, Ren was starting to get a longing to go swimming. He also wanted to shove Gem in the water, and the feeling was mutual, since she kept looking down at her reflection and then back at Ren again, calculating how much of a general disruption it would be to splash him during a town meeting. The scattered children in the gathering of folks would probably appreciate the chance at some fun, instead of nervously clinging to their parents. Parents who, it seemed to Ren, were worried about a lot of nothing. They were just eggs, after all.

“It’s absolutely unheard of!” someone else in the crowd was saying. Ren thought it was the lady who owned the tavern, but he wasn’t too sure. He wasn’t a frequent patron. “Especially this time of year. My hens have all laid an egg a day for as long as I’ve had them.”

“Right,” Doc hummed, looking sidelong at False. “Have Horsehead Farms checked their granary? If so many people are affected it’s probably an issue with the feed.”

“I checked with them this morning,” False hummed, flipping to a page in her notebook. “There’s no mold or rot in the grain, and they feed their chickens from the same stock and they’re doing fine.”

“Well of course they’re doing fine,” someone from the crowd chipped in with a derisive snort. “They keep all the best grain for themselves.”

“Everything they have goes to the community,” Doc said dismissively, “even their best. They are out of town though, and this seems to be a town-centered problem. Joe and Cleo were having fox problems last week-”

“I haven’t seen any foxes,” Joren Tommy said. “No fox prints either.”

“You might not. Foxes are tricky.”

“My hen house is fox proof!” someone called, and a few other voices agreed.

Ren yawned and whispered to Gem, “We have such engaging problems in Haltvale.”

“Oh hush,” she shoved his shoulder good-naturedly. “It is a problem. That’s a lot of food lost over two days.”

“Give it a week and it’ll fix itself,” Ren shrugged. “Animals don’t follow people's agendas. They do what they want.”

“This is like half the town, Ren.” She dared to splash at him lightly with water from the fountain. It was cold, but a glancing enough blow that he could ignore it. The impulse to shove her inside was getting more intense though.

"I'm telling you, a ghost took the eggs!" That was Tenley, the kid who opened the new bakery. "I saw it!"

"Tenley, ahm, I mean no offense," Doc chuckled politely, "but we do not have ghosts here. Ghosts only happen if-"

"I saw a ghost carrying off those eggs!" Tenley insisted for probably the fourth time this morning. "A whole armful! Bright and early yesterday morning!"

"My bets on the ghost," Ren whispered to Gem.

"How much d’you wanna put on that bet?" She dared him.

"Not enough.”

“Pfft, you’re no fun.”

“I don’t know of any fox that’ll take eggs and not the whole chicken,” Stacen, one of the folks that worked with Ren at the sawmill on occasion, piped up from near the back of the crowd. She stood with her arms crossed, expression sour. “Let alone hitting half the chicken coops in town.”

A few murmurs of agreement rippled through those gathered. Shouting broke out on one side, some accusations thrown at the local coyote population, some others thrown at local kids. A few folks in the back corner were accosting Tenley for what he thought a ghost could even look like. Ren shrugged to himself. They didn’t keep chickens at the Octagon. The last time they made a concerted effort, a zombie got tangled up in the chicken wire and tore the fence down. It had been quite reasonable then, when their chickens were unable to lay eggs. Getting eaten by a zombie, or any of the critters that got in after the fence was brought down, would cause an egg shortage. And if he were being perfectly honest, Ren didn’t like chickens all that much. Sure, eggs were nice, but chickens were mean when they wanted to be.

A shadow fell over Ren, and he blinked up at the vaguely Cleo-shaped silhouette towering between him and the midmorning sun. Then he was hit by the persistent smells of the tannery wafting off her clothes, and couldn’t stop himself from wrinkling his nose against it. If Cleo noticed, she didn’t seem to take offense, instead surveying the crowd in the town square with a raised eyebrow. She had two large bags of chicken feed draped over her left shoulder and one more under her right arm.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Cleo asked.

“Good morning!” Gem smiled up at her, raising a hand to shade her face from the sun. “There’s an egg phantom on the loose.”

Cleo blinked for a moment, clearly taken off-guard. “An egg phantom? Right… and next you’ll be telling me there’s moonshine on the water?”

“It’s stolen all the eggs on the north end of town,” Ren told her, pulling a leaf out of the fountain as it floated by him. "Tenley saw it carrying off eggs yesterday morning. Just a whole bundle of eggs floating down the road on their own."

"Haltvale doesn't have ghosts." Cleo spoke with a similar assuredness as Doc had earlier, though hers was accompanied by an eye roll. "Ghosts only happen when a revenant wants them to."

"What's a revenant?"

“An undead beastie that was pretty thoroughly dead-ified along with all the other scary and crawl-y monster-things.” Cleo shifted the bags on her shoulder, getting a little better balance of them. “But you lot are too young to know about that stuff”

“Uhm, I’m the same age as Doc, my dude.”

“And I’ve lived here my whole entire life, Cleo.”

Cleo smiled down at them patiently, and she reminded Ren of a school teacher entertaining a pair of unruly kids. “Right, sure you have, Gem. But Ren hasn’t. And you were what? Two? Three years old when everything went down?”

“I was eight years old!”

“Oh wow, eight years old?” Cleo mocked the best curtsy she could, given she was carrying three large, heavy bags of chicken feed. “Well I bow to your aged wisdom, then, old wise-woman.”

“I will drag you into this fountain Cleo.”

“I’m not scared of you, Gem. Your brittle old lady bones will probably snap in half trying to push me over anyway.”

Ren cackled a laugh, cutting through Gem and Cleo’s banter and attracting a few disgruntled stares from the gathered crowd. Someone standing nearby shushed him, and he did his best to reign in his laughter, chuckling his apologies. 

“So all these folks have had eggs come up missing?” Cleo asked in a brave attempt to get the conversation back on track. She scanned around the fountain, mentally tallying the families clumped in the square.

“Just about everyone on the north side of town.” Gem shrugged.

“That’s a lot of eggs.”

“And one really tenacious ghost,” Ren noted.

Cleo rolled her eyes and scoffed, opened her mouth to make another disparaging comment about ghosts, and then seemed to realize something. She looked around the square again, calculating something quickly in her head. Her eyes went wide and she squeaked out a horrified gasp. Cleo dropped the two feed bags she’d been holding off her left shoulder, “You know, suddenly I’ve realized there’s no way I can carry this to the house all by myself.”

Ren and Gem exchanged a curious glance.

“Oh Ren, Gem, how kind of you two to volunteer to help me,” Cleo’s voice lilted into a false sugary-sweet, and she jerked her head in the direction of the tannery. “Come on, don’t dawdle now.”

“Well wait,” Ren got to his feet, “shouldn’t we tell Doc where we’re going?”

“We’re adults, Ren,” Gem reminded him, shouldering one of the feed bags with a grunt. “We don’t have to ask Doc’s permission to go places. Besides, I’m curious now.”

Ren scowled and took the other, walking quickly to catch up with Cleo. “Well, I am too… but we’ve been trying to stick together, right?”

“It’s broad daylight in the middle of town Ren,” Gem huffed, struggling a bit under the weight of her own bag. “I really don’t think the monster-thing will attack us here.”

“You guys were attacked by a monster-thing?” Cleo asked, and at first Ren thought she was angry for some reason. Her voice was harsh and overly-loud, and it took Ren a few seconds to realize that was what her worry sounded like. “What-- when did this happen?!”

“A couple nights ago,” Gem shrugged. “It swooped down off the barn and sliced up Ren’s shoulders.”

“Oh that’s- that’s just great news isn’t it?” Cleo laughed high and tense.

“You okay Cleo?”

“Oh I’m fine, this is fine.” She responded, and Ren got the distinct feeling things weren’t fine. “Since we’re tallying up oddities though, I’ve got one more for the list.”

“And here I thought you really wanted our help carrying things,” Ren laughed breathlessly. "Doc and False are the ones keeping track of this stuff. Why don't you just-?”

“No, no, this is really something you’ve got to see.” Cleo insisted, and then grumbled under her breath, “No one would ever believe me if I told them anyway.”

Cleo seemed content to drop the conversation there. She led the way down the street at a stiff pace, Ren and Gem barely managing to keep up with her. Ren was really starting to think Cleo could’ve carried all three of the bags back to the house by herself and still beat them there. Only burdened with one she was solidly outpacing them, constantly having to stop when she’d pulled too far ahead to wait on them to labor after her. At last they turned down the final street and the tannery came into view. Somewhere behind it, Ren knew Joe and Cleo’s house was nestled - though for now the tannery’s big brick building hid it from view. Ren frowned. Several of Cleo’s stretchers were knocked askew, the few hides hanging on their bars were shredded and poked with holes. One of the vats of questionable liquid was tipped over, spilling contents that were already browning the grass. It looked like a tornado had hit the place.

Ren grimaced, “Jeez Cleo, what happened?”

“You won’t believe it.” Cleo insisted again, and hummed a high-pitched distressed noise. “It’s chickens, Ren.”

“Chickens?”

They rounded the side of the tannery and Ren and Gem stopped dead in their tracks. Cleo walked a few more steps before stopping and looking back at them. “Chickens.”

Milling around Joe and Cleo’s house was the largest flock of chickens Ren had ever seen in his life. It was a swaying, running field of white-dappled-red, fluttering about, jumping on anything climbable and pecking and scratching through the garden and lawn. There were so many chickens, it was impossible to tell where one chicken ended and where another began. The flock formed its own new, massive animal, one that breathed and acted as one, rippling and fluttering in masses of birds every time one or two of them startled. They were unsettling too. Watching them move made Ren nervous, and it was several long moments before he finally placed why. All the chickens were identical. White feathers, red comb, black eyes; a repeating pattern without a speck of alternative shape or color, all the same height, all the same size. There were one or two birds that sported a broken feather from running in circles all morning, and Ren clung to those small differences where he found them, only to lose them again when the pattern of white breathed and shifted. 

“Cleo,” Gem said after a long pause made loud and awkward by all the clucking and crowing going on in front of them, “absolutely no judgment here… but have you been stealing the eggs in town?”

“Now I know where you might get that idea-”

“Oh good.”

“But y’see, the eggs have been going missing for at most three days,” Cleo noted. “And well, it takes a bit longer than three days to hatch an egg.”

Ren resituated the feed bag onto his other shoulder. “She’s got a point.”

“Plus, unless there’s a rooster around, chickens don’t lay eggs with babies in them?” Cleo said uncertainly, “Or at least, they shouldn’t. So even if I had been stealing eggs - which I haven’t - and even if they had all hatched in three days - which is impossible - I shouldn’t have this many chickens. I should have, like, maybe ten or twenty?”

“Yeah, this is… a lot of chickens,” Gem sounded impressed. Ren was too.

“Is… my dude, is Joe on the roof?” Ren asked, suddenly becoming aware of the form sitting against the chimney. It certainly looked like Joe, hair disheveled and glasses askew, dozing quietly in the slanted shadow of their chimney. 

“Oh, yeah well, y’see, when we got up this morning, the chickens were eating everything,” Cleo kicked a nearby fallen stretcher, and the shredded hide fluttered like a tattered flag in the wind. “Wherever they came from, they got here hungry, I guess. And so Joe threw some feed out to get them away from the tannery stuff. Well, after that all the birds sorta figured he was the one carrying the food, and they chased him up there. So I ran off to go get some more feed and try and sate them a bit? Or at least keep them from eating Joe.”

“Man-eating chickens,” Ren laughed, and tried not to sound as anxious as he felt. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

“Well they’re not any more man-eating than any other chicken,” Cleo shrugged. “Chickens just eat everything, and this lot is hungry. I figure we just cut open the bags and toss them around, and then get Joe down, and then we’ll uh… make a lot of chicken pot pie, I guess? Or run them all off.”

“You’re not going to keep them?” Gem gasped. “But Cleo! They chose you!”

“Oh sure Gem, we’ll keep them,” Cleo rolled her eyes. “The whole town hates us already and is currently convinced there’s an egg thief around, and we’ve suddenly popped up with like, a hundred chickens. There’s no possible way keeping all of them could go wrong!”

“Oh, well… when you put it like that,” Gem laughed nervously. Then she waved, “Joe! Hello up there! We’ve come to rescue you!”

Nearly every white and red head turned in her direction. On the roof, Joe startled awake. He staggered to his feet, arms out to keep from slipping on the shingles. “Oh thank heavens! For a second there, I thought Cleo left me to my fowl demise.”

“Now come on Joe, you know I’m the only one allowed to kill you,” Cleo said with a vicious grin. Then she howled, “Alright you lot! Stop harassing Joe, I’ve got your food right here.”

She broke open the bag and tossed it, scattering feed in a wide arc towards the army of chickens scratching away at her yard. Ren and Gem followed suit, clouds of seeds, grain shaft and dried corn sifting into the air and hitting the ground in a hollow sound that reminded Ren of rainfall. Some of it dusted onto his shirt, and he busied himself brushing it off.

“Time to move guys!” Cleo said, grabbing Ren’s shoulder roughly and half-dragging him into a run around the yard. His shout of protest died in his throat when the surge of chickens fluttered in his direction, feathers scattering as the flock rushed for the feed. He caught his stride and kept pace with Cleo, Gem on his heel as they circled the tide of feathers and beaks. Where the chickens been standing around the house, the ground was scratched and torn and the garden well and truly mangled. Ren grimaced at the devastation - it would take a lot of work to salvage what was left behind. Work he and Gem would probably end up helping with, given recent trends. The three of them slid to a halt at the house, Joe already tip-toeing his way across the shingles in their direction. He stopped a step away from the gutter and wrung his hands nervously. 

“Well! Jump down!” Cleo bellowed. “We’ll catch you!”

“We will?!” Ren took a step back away from the roof, measuring the distance. It was shorter than the barn roof, but still tall enough to be a nasty fall, he figured.

“Cleo, as much as I applaud your enthusiastic rescue,” Joe stammered, running a hand through his hair, “if I jump from here I will break your neck and mine.”

“I’m with Cleo on this one, Joe,” Gem called up, casting a pensive look back over her shoulder. “Just hurry up before the chicken-pocalypse comes back!”

Ren winced as something sharp hit his shin, and he stepped back away from whatever hit him- and stumbled into a chicken. Another peck caught his ankle, and Ren looked down to see four chickens had walked over to surround him, pecking at the cornmeal that had blown onto his clothes. “Ow! Wh- hey quit that!” He reached down to shoo them off, only to watch as some more stragglers broke away from the rest of the flock and started fluttering in his direction. Slowly more of the little red and white heads were turning in his direction, scratching through the feed on the ground and curiously wandering after the chickens that couldn’t find any.

“Uh… guys…” Ren said warningly.

“Last chance Joe!” Cleo shouted. “Jump or stay up there for the rest of your life!”

Joe grimaced, screwed his eyes shut and jumped. He crashed into Cleo and Ren, and as soon as his full weight came down on their outstretched arms, the three of them crumpled to the ground in an inglorious heap. Ren felt one of Joe’s knees jab him in the stomach, and his breath left him in a rush. Cleo scrambled out of the pile and dashed for the front door, and Ren might be fooled into thinking she was unphased, if it weren't for how she held her arm as she ran. 

“Everyone inside!” Cleo commanded, diving for cover inside the house. Gem paused long enough to help Joe to his feet and ran after her, a pair of chickens pecking at her ankles as she went. 

“Ren!” Joe gasped, stumbling an unsteady step towards the door. “Hurry up! They’re coming!” 

Ren managed to pull himself onto his knees, waving Joe onward. “Go on man! Save yourself!”

Joe lunged for his outstretched hand, and with a heave that was more body weight than strength, he hauled Ren to his feet. Chickens were pecking around their feet, and the pair of them stumbled through their sharp beaks, wincing at every pin-jab to their ankles and shins. One flew in Ren’s face, startled by the giants stumbling towards it, nearly knocking him over. Then he and Joe were within a stride of the door, and Cleo grabbed them both by the front of their shirts and hauled them inside. The door slammed shut as soon as their feet cleared the threshold, Gem standing wide-eyed and gasping, her back braced against the door like she was scared the chickens would try and peck it down. Ren and Joe collapsed onto the floor, Ren far more out of breath than he figured he’d be. He wanted to blame it on Joe winding him earlier, if only so he could avoid admitting to himself he thought the chickens were… kinda terrifying? Very terrifying, actually.

“Joe, man, I think you bruised my rib,” Ren groaned from where he lay on the floor. “I’ll let it slide since you came back for me though.”

“Oh brother.” Gem smoothed down her shirt, plucking white feather-fluff from where it clung to her clothes and dropping it to the floor. “You act like he saved you from a warzone, Ren.”

“I mean, have you seen it out there?” Joe asked with a tense laugh, stumbling to his feet and looking out the window. Already the flock had closed in on the house again, pecking at anything that even remotely resembled food. One flew onto the windowsill and peered inside before fluttering back to the ground again. “What chicken god did we offend to incur this dreadful wrath?”

“Well whoever it was, they can come down from the sky and fight me,” Cleo snarled, and Ren had a hard time telling if she was angry angry, or if this was more of her worried angry at work. “I oughtta throw the whole lot of them into a stewpot.”

“Go for it,” Ren laughed, brushing away a stray feather that had caught on his pant leg. “I’ll help you even.”

“Can’t. Pretty sure the hatchet’s in my workshop, and I’m not getting my eyes pecked out running back there,” Cleo groused, staring longingly out the window at the tannery. “They’ll get bored and leave eventually.”

“Well I hope they move on soon,” Joe sighed and moved to stand beside her. “Let’s hope they don’t eat any more of the tanning supplies. That’s a lot of work down the drain.”

“S’fine Joe,” Cleo said miserably, the inconvenience of it all finally setting in. “It's nothing I can’t redo, I guess.”

“Well sure, but you shouldn’t have to. I can help, you know, once we get them all scattered off.”

Cleo gave a rueful sort of chuckle. “You helping with the tanning, Joe? You’re too squeamish.”

“Just don’t put me on brains duty.”

“As opposed to what? Scraping duty? With all the blood and stuff?”

Joe grimaced.

“Uhm… Joe,” Gem interrupted as politely as she could, “since we’re stuck in here for a minute… could I maybe put some tea on?”

“Oh! Well sure I’ll get the kettle-”

“I’ve got it,” Gem beamed at him, and Ren watched cautiously as she crossed her arms behind her back, scheming. “You and Cleo just figure out how we’re going to get rid of these chickens.”

Joe pointed her in the direction of the kitchen and Gem dashed off, pausing momentarily to usher for Ren to follow her. Ren waited a few more seconds for Joe and Cleo to get dug back into some thoughtful conversation before sneaking silently after Gem. It was a small house. It didn’t take more than ten steps to walk from the living area into the kitchen, though the place was cluttered. Scattered about on every surface were leather working tools and small projects, probably Cleo working on small orders of materials for the folks in town. Most of them were too early in the process for Ren to really recognize what they were. In the windows someone had hung glass suncatchers, lime green and turning slowly in the sun, casting the interior with yellow-green splinters of light. The kitchen held much of the same clutter, though stacked pots, pans and dishes took the place of the scattered leatherwork. One of the cabinet doors hung crookedly on its hinges, a screwdriver on the counter marking an attempt to fix it. Gem pulled a kettle from the scatter of kitchenware, checked to make sure it was clean - it was - and filled it with water from the pump at the sink.

“So what-” Ren’s question died off when Gem rounded on him, a finger pressed to her lips, motioning for quiet. She glanced into the living room, waited to make sure Cleo and Joe were deep in conversation, and then mouthed to Ren. “Your ribbon.”

Panic knifed through Ren harsh enough to yank a gasp from him. His hands flew up to his hair- and his ribbon was still in place. One or two stray hairs had managed to break free of the tie, but otherwise it was secure. He flashed Gem a questioning glare.

“The chickens.” She whispered to him, so low he had to lean in to hear. “They’ll get scared off if you take your ribbon out.”

“Uhm, absolutely not!” Ren hissed, miming an X over his chest to accent the point. Gem scowled. “I can’t turn all, you know, in the middle of town Gem!”

“This is hardly the middle of town,” Gem rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. She mimed pulling her own ribbon out and mouthed. “You don’t have to do it all the way. Just pull it loose.”

“That’ll work?”

“I do it all the time.” She shrugged. “Sure, your magic’s a little weaker-”

Ren scoffed.

“Well it is!”

“Those chickens were just attacking me two seconds ago, Gem,” Ren pressed, crossing his arms stubbornly. “You don’t think it’ll be a little weird if I just stumble out there and suddenly start scaring them off?”

“Don’t be such a ninny, Ren.”

“There are vex in town, Gem. This isn’t me being a ninny, this is me being reasonable!”

“The vex are busy right now. Just let your hair out a little-“

“So, how’s the tea coming?”

Ren’s heart stopped in his chest. Gem gasped. The two of them snapped around, staring wide-eyed at Joe who hovered like a wraith in the kitchen doorway.

Chapter Text

Joe’s voice was loud and close beside them, and they must have looked ridiculous, startling like a pair of surprised deer. Gem nearly dropped the kettle, and she hissed a swear under her breath as she struggled to catch it again. Joe swept his eyes across the both of them, then smiled lamely. “Oh, uh, am I interrupting something?”

“Joe,” Gem shouted indignantly, “warn someone before you go sneaking up on them!”

“That defeats the purpose of sneaking, Gem,” Joe pointed out matter-of-factly. He moved to clean off an area on the stove for the tea kettle. “Also, this is my house.”

“But you were sneaking,” Gem accused, scowling.

“I just walk quietly.” Joe lit the stove and held a hand out expectantly to Gem. It took her a moment to realize he was asking for the kettle. He took it from her gently, and the clatter as he set it on the stove seemed overly-loud to Ren. Ren became aware of his heartbeat, a nervous flutter in his chest, and he tracked Joe’s movements through the kitchen, searching for any hint he’d overheard their conversation. Joe ignored him, searching the nearest cabinet for a tea box. He opened one, tsked when he realized it was empty, and placed it back in the cabinet. The second one he opened had a few loose leaves inside. He hummed thoughtfully, shrugged, and then put the box to the side. His movements were slow and oddly purposeful, like a man trying to convince a wild animal he meant it no harm. Ren glared at him tensely and refused to fall for it. Beside him, Gem leaned against the counter, gripping its edge like she wished she could disappear through it. It was silent past Joe’s shuffling and Ren’s pulse throbbing in his ears so intensely he was sure everyone else could hear it too.

“You know, it’s too bad we don’t have any chicken repellent around here,” Joe remarked casually, denying the intensity of the room around him. He leaned back against the counter and opened another tea box. This one, too, was empty. He frowned at it like it’d insulted him.

“Chicken repellent?” Gem asked cautiously.

“Well yeah sure. Garlic, pepper, cinnamon… most things off the spice rack really.” Joe looked up at Ren, and his gaze was unnervingly piercing. Ren, already anxious, found it hard not to squirm beneath it, forcibly stifling the urge to back away. It wasn’t like there was anywhere to run to - it was a small kitchen. Joe cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. In the pale sunlight streaming through the window, the bright green of the hand-made glasses was striking and vibrant. For just a second as light glinted across them, Ren thought he saw a thin line of red on the inside of one of the wires.

“You know,” Joe said, “chicken repellent.”

Ren blinked. Joe went back to fiddling with the empty tea box like if he turned it over enough, dried leaves would suddenly appear inside. Gem crossed her arms behind her back. On the stove, the kettle started to boil.

“Well, I noticed you had a tin of salt over here,” she said slowly. “That’ll work, right?”

Ren was on the edge of saying no, of course it wouldn’t. Salt didn’t have the kind of pricking, biting smell Joe was talking about. Joe spoke first though. “Yeah, actually, that’d be perfect. And I doubt it’d take very much.”

“Well no, of course not.” Gem agreed, watching Joe with an intensity that didn’t match their conversation.

“It’d probably only work once,” Joe hummed, “but we only need it to work once. We’d never really need that kind of help again, and even if we did, I wouldn’t ask.”

“Right… of course you wouldn’t.” Gem narrowed her eyes at him. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Because, you know, people around here don’t like strange things - thus the chicken problem. But we’d be getting rid of the chickens. It’d be a big help. The salt, I mean.”

“Yeah, it would. And you’d return the favor for that kind of thing, right?”

“Oh of course. Really, I’d be deeply indebted to, well, the salt, for removing the chicken problem. But it’s just salt at the end of the day. That’s not a big deal. And if anyone were to ask - which they wouldn’t, since there’s nothing to ask about - there’s a lot better options of the repellent variety I’d tell them about.”

Gem nodded, a wary smirk lighting the edges of her features. Joe returned it conspiratorially, and with noticeably more enthusiasm. Ren looked between the two of them, wondering at what point he’d been ejected from the conversation. “We’re not really talking about salt, are we?”

“Of course we are, Ren.” Gem grinned at him, all teeth, her arms still crossed behind her back. “What else would we be talking about?”

Joe grabbed the salt tin from where it sat by the stove and placed it purposefully on the counter beside Gem. “I’ll uh, see if Cleo will go help me with something in the cellar. Why don’t you two try the salt trick while I’m gone?”

Joe ducked out of the kitchen at about the same time the kettle started screeching on the stove. Gem took the kettle off the heat and dropped the handful of tea leaves inside to steep. She and Ren stood in silence in the kitchen, waiting patiently for the creek of the cellar door. Cleo and Joe vanished downstairs. 

“Ren,” Gem whispered. “Your ribbon.”

“I can’t.”

“Joe just gave you an excuse,” Gem said quickly. “Listen, d’you wanna be stuck in this house until the chickens leave?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind it my dude.”

Gem rolled her eyes. “Ren. Fine. Do you want to be here when the rest of the town mobs Joe and Cleo?”

Ren scowled. He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back to stare at the ceiling, like an alternative plan might drop out of the sky and spare him from Gem’s insistence. One didn’t, of course, and even if it did, there was a roof in the way.

“The vex are in town,” Ren said weakly.

“I’ll keep a lookout for you,” Gem said, her voice noticeably gentler. “I do this all the time, Ren. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

Ren rubbed his face like the action could soothe him, like he could wash off his anxiety if he scrubbed hard enough. Then he heaved a heavy sigh and tugged at his ribbon. A few strands of his hair came loose, falling in his face. He waited, gauging if he felt any different, and then tugged again. This time a few larger bunches fell onto his shoulders. Everything around Ren seemed to sharpen in a way that was very outside of himself. The smells in the house came into focus, distinct and intimate. Gem had a smell like wildflowers that seeped from her pores just as surely as sweat. The tea in the kettle was warm and round. Joe and Cleo’s house was an odd mix of red and green and black to him, stubborn rot and tenacious mundanity battling for dominance in the clutter of the kitchen. The sounds, too, were sharper. He could hear clearly the chickens scratching outside, and the muffled sound of Joe and Cleo talking in the cellar beneath their feet, and Gem’s breathing, stable and sure. He could not hear her heartbeat. His bindings weren’t quite loose enough. But if he had to guess, he would say she was calm. 

All these things snapped into focus, but just underneath them, Ren became incredibly aware of how stifled he felt. He could smell more, hear more, if the ribbon were gone. He could run, too, run fast and far without the ribbon. Even human. There was a lead pulling him backwards, tight against him as he was suddenly at its end, and he could feel its presence like a belt just barely too tight around his waist. It was a horrible itching feeling not unlike the full moon, and he grimaced just as soon as he felt it.

“What?” Gem asked, and her voice rang sharp and loud in his ears.

“I feel like my skin is crawling,” Ren whispered, gentle on his own hearing.

“Yeah, it’s a bit uncomfortable.”

“You could’ve warned me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Gem giggled at him, trying to lighten the mood. “Now hurry up! I’m right behind you, I promise.”

Ren made for the door, muttering. “This is just an excuse to get me mauled by chickens.”

“Well yeah, of course. I have to entertain myself somehow.”

Ren opened the front door. The wave of chickens milling about the front stoop reacted immediately. Like a wave, the lot of them fluttered away from him, rippling as each reacted to the next in a flurry of white feathers. 

“Alright you crazy birds!” Ren shouted. “Get out of here!”

The chickens didn’t move, though a few of them did look boredly in his direction. Ren rolled his eyes, and then, feeling a bit ridiculous, he growled and charged at them. It was an odd noise that dragged itself from the back of his throat, stuck halfway between wolf and human. It rumbled in his chest as he ran, and the chickens exploded away from him in a surge. The flock dispersed a bit, breaking away from him in different directions, a splitting flood of white feathers. Gem cheered him on from the open doorway.

Ren found himself grinning. He loved, above all else, a good chase, and there were so many things to chase here. He lunged for a clump of chickens, and in a cacophony of clucks and crows they fluttered away from him, scurrying off towards the woods. Ren followed them, herding them away from the tannery, not stopping until the birds had dispersed into the trees. Then he spun on his heel and bounded back, running for the chickens scratching away at Joe and Cleo’s cucumber vines. They fluttered away from him, spraying white feathers, and Ren herded them again, laughing as he chased them off into the woods. It was an intoxicating feeling, chasing chickens around the yard, and he must have looked absurd for taking so much joy in it but he did. He dared himself to try and catch one, chasing the unsettling white birds now terrified by his presence. They were a bit too quick for him, but that didn’t really matter. What mattered was getting them off the lawn, and he made short work of it.

Finally, Ren stopped in the yard, panting, and when he looked around there were no more chickens where chickens weren’t supposed to be. There was only a yard dotted in white feathers and the general devastation of nearly a hundred chickens scratching away all morning. A few of the disgruntled hens still fussed at the edge of the forest, looking offended at being run off, but too scared of Ren to dare approaching the yard again. Ren laughed breathlessly, and then startled when Gem was suddenly behind him, pulling at his hair. In the moment it took him to realize what she was doing, she had already re-tied his ribbon again. The world dulled, smothered in the magic of the binding ribbon, and Ren found himself blinking dazedly at the muffled feeling that collapsed on his shoulders. He could no longer hear the chickens in the woods, or Gem’s breathing, or the distant village bustle. His sense of smell confined itself to the grass at his feet, and the downy reek of scattered pinfeathers, colorless.

Gem patted him on the back. “That was fantastic Ren!” She grinned up at him mischievously. “Did you enjoy being off the leash?”

She was trying to get a rise out of him, dog jokes and all, but Ren had trouble feeling anything about it. He was too disappointed in the wake of the ribbon being back. It occurred to him that it had been a long time since he’d just… let his hair down for the sake of it. For one all-consuming moment, the only thing he wanted in the world was to do it again. Do it properly this time. Drop the ribbon on the ground, revel in the freedom, and run. Then Joe and Cleo walked outside, and Ren was forced to rejoin the relative normalcy of the present. 

“You’ve scared them all off?!” Cleo said incredulously, blinking around at the empty yard. “You’re joking.”

“I told you, it’s the salt,” Joe said smugly, and he shot Gem an unsubtle wink. “Thanks for volunteering to try it, Ren.”

“If I’d known it would work this well, I would’ve done it myself. Salt of all things?” Cleo snorted. “Only you would come up with something like this, Joe.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Looks like we’ve missed one though,” Gem pointed to the chicken coop. Sure enough, huddled between a pair of much more mundane-looking brown chickens, one more of the unsettling white birds roosted. It gazed at them with wide black eyes, head tilted slightly, like it recognized they were talking about it. Ren found himself feeling nervous again. Right, now he got to deal with one of those things with his ribbon back on again. But it was just one chicken. He started approaching the chicken coop, and then frowned as something caught his eye.

“It’s got a tag on it?” Ren called, stopping in front of the battered chicken wire and peering into the enclosure. The white chicken watched him, shuffling around its wings into a more comfortable position. Around its neck was a thin wire with a glittering little name tag attached. The others stopped at the coop as well, peering inside curiously.

After a few moments, Cleo scoffed. “Well, we’re not learning anything standing around like a bunch of chickens.”

“I’m not sticking my hand in there,” Gem laughed. “Those things are vicious.”

“It’s a chicken, Gem.”

“Uhm, I remember someone being scared of getting her eyes pecked out, earlier.”

“That was when there were like, a thousand of them,” Cleo tutted, “and if you ever tell anyone I was scared of a bunch of chickens, I will use your brains for leather softener.”

“Rude.”

“Be careful please, Cleo,” Joe said nervously. “I can’t run the tannery without you.”

“It is a chicken, Joe.” Cleo rolled her eyes. She crossed around to the little gate on the fence and let herself in. The white chicken stared up at her placidly, allowing itself to be gently scooped up in her hands. It looked surprisingly small and frail in Cleo’s grasp, a shadow of the terror the rest of its flock brought. Cleo gently turned the little tag on its neck and squinted at it.

“A gift for you,” she read aloud, voice thick with confusion, “PM.”

“PM?” Ren asked. “Are those initials?”

“Do we even know someone with the initials PM?” Gem wondered. Cleo let the chicken loose in the coop again, and it watched her quietly from where it was placed on the ground, small black eyes unblinking.

“Maybe they mean the afternoon?” Joe guessed, scratching his head. “I mean, they did strike in the night, whoever they are.”

“Well whoever they are, when I find them I’m gonna…” Cleo trailed off angrily, slamming the fence closed and startling the chickens inside - save for the white chicken, who merely cocked its head to the side. “Well, I don’t know what I’m gonna do, but it’s going to be nasty.”

Ren and Gem spent another few hours at the tannery helping salvage what was left of the place. It was a large mess to clean, but by the time they left they had made a sizable dent. Most of the feathers were swept off the lawn, both by the wind and by Joe’s persistent brooming. The chickens had made short work of the seed tossed in the grass, and aside from a few stretchers that needed to be reassembled, most of the tannery’s damage was just picking up scatter. The foul liquid from the one tipped-over bin made a rank mud pit on one side of the lawn, but there wasn’t much that could be done about it. Cleo, mercifully, handled picking up the spilled hides herself. She complained loudly about how they might be ruined, setting back her work.

The garden was destroyed, well and truly. It was beyond even Gem’s ability to salvage; to salvage something, there had to first be something left. Every vine, plant, and root had been pecked, scratched, and mangled. Every growing squash or tomato or beetroot was devoured. Not even the cucumber vines had been spared, everything within the chickens’ ability to reach having been torn off the wall. Joe looked over the devastation mournfully, hours of hard work all gone to waste, and so late in the season that planting again risked it being killed off by the autumn frosts. Of course, there was always Horsehead Farms, whose surplus enthusiastically provided for anyone that needed it. The loss still stung.

Eventually, Cleo waved Ren and Gem off, thanking them for their help but gauging that the time had passed for social visits. Ren was forced to agree. It was barely past noon, and already he was starting to feel the wear of the day. All of them were, but Ren specifically was starting to get sore. That bruise Joe had kneed into his ribs was protesting every time he moved, and he figured by now Doc was wondering where they’d vanished off to. They’d need to get back to him soon anyway, to make sure they made it home before nightfall. That was a new problem they were still getting used to.

Before they left, Joe pulled Ren and Gem aside and said: “You guys really saved our bacon today.”

“Well, we’re happy to help, my dude,” Ren responded warmly. “I told you, if you ever needed an extra pair of hands-”

“And I appreciate it. You guys have no idea.” Joe ran a hand through his hair and offered a tired smile. “We have to repay you guys somehow.”

“Joe you really don’t have to-” Gem began, but Joe held up a hand to cut her off.

“No, really, we owe you,” he said sternly, and there was a fierceness there that Ren wasn’t expecting. “We owe you guys a lot. I mean, we owed you for fixing the chicken coop, but this goes beyond that. I’d still be stuck on the roof right now if ya’ll hadn’t shown up to help.”

Ren wanted to mention that Cleo was perfectly capable of dragging all those bags of feed back to the house herself, but he held his comment for now. Joe seemed to have made his mind up about this, and Ren thought it’d be rude to fight him on it.

“So consider this an I-owe-you.” Joe placed a little bundle of wire in Ren’s hand. It was green, the same bright green as Joe’s glasses. It wouldn’t surprise Ren at all if it was scrap wire left over from when he’d made them. It was twisted into a knot, a promise waiting to be kept. “Anything you folks need, no matter the circumstance, Cleo and I will help you. Well… within reason anyway. I can’t do impractical things like murder, or paying library fees exceeding three months old. I get squeamish.”

“We’ll try not to check out too many books then,” Gem laughed.

Ren and Gem left, Cleo and Joe still trying to organize all the chaos that had whirlwinded its way through that morning. Ren gave the little wire knot to Gem for safe keeping, and they made their way back towards the town’s center. They walked no more than two blocks before Gem said, “D’you know what this means, Ren?”

“That I’ve discovered a new and inconvenient poultry-based phobia?”

“No. Well, maybe. That’s a you-thing to sort out.” Gem dropped her voice to a whisper and grinned. “Joe is one of us.”

It took Ren a second to register what she meant. He opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“The pacifist thing,” Gem continued, stepping closer to him to keep from being overheard. The street was mostly empty, but the precaution was still welcome. “It makes so much more sense now! And his glasses. Ren, did you see-?”

“We can’t- we don’t know that for sure,” Ren stammered. “I mean we can’t just assume-”

“Why else would he be okay with the whole, you know…” Gem glanced meaningfully at Ren’s ribbon. “He knows, Ren. And he’s keeping it secret. And he’s one of us.”

“But- I mean-” It made sense. It made a lot of sense. The way he acted. How much he played with his glasses. The pacifism. It made a lot of sense. “How can he be? He lives with Cleo.”

“You think Cleo doesn’t know?”

“If she knew, why would he pull her aside for the ribbon thing? He’d just tell her, wouldn’t he?” Ren asked, fighting to keep his voice low. There was a giddiness rising up in him making things difficult. It was starting to sink in. Joe might be- Joe probably was-

“Ohmigods you’re right.”

“RIght?! It makes sense!”

Gem shushed him quickly, and the two of them hurried down the road, dodging curious stares.

“How the heck has he kept it secret for so long?” Gem whispered furiously. “How can Cleo not know?”

“Maybe Cleo just thinks he’s weird or something? You know, I noticed when we fixed the henhouse, his hands were cold even after we’d been working all day.”

“I wonder what he is,” Gem babbled excitedly. “Cold. Cold. Maybe he’s something snow related?”

“What about all the green glass?”

Gem clapped her hands together. “Ice monster. Ice works like glass.”

“Ice is more blue though, isn’t it?”

“Maybe green’s his favorite color? If he grew up somewhere super cold, green would be rare and pretty, I bet.”

“Joe’s an ice monster,” Ren said incredulously. “There’s no way-”

“We should tell Doc!” Gem grinned suddenly. “Oh my gods he’ll be so excited!”

Ren grimaced. “Oh man… should we tell Doc?”

“Of course we should!”

“But- well, wait.” Ren stopped walking, and Gem walked a couple more steps before stopping as well. “Doc- I mean- he was pretty torn up about how he treated Joe, wasn’t he? With the pacifism stuff?”

Gem looked away from him, brows knitting together in a soft frown.

“My dude, how’s he going to feel if he finds out Joe was one of us the whole time?”

“I mean- but we can’t do anything about that, though.”

“Well, what’s the point in telling him anyway?” Ren asked, chasing the thoughts as soon as he had them. “We don’t know for sure Joe’s one of us, right? He could just be really sympathetic. And even if he is, it’s not like we can go make a monster club together. That kinda defeats the point of hiding.”

“Right. Yeah… you’re right.” Gem looked crestfallen, and he really couldn’t blame her. He could feel his own disappointment creeping up as well. Ren put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. 

“I’m sorry, Gem.”

Gem sighed. “No, it’s fine… you’re right.” Then she gasped. “Wait! No what if he isn’t…?! Oh no, Ren! I just basically told him-!”

Ren shushed her quickly, and the two of them resumed walking. They were getting closer to the city center now. Ren could see the steeple of the town hall in between the rooftops.

“I mean, Joe seems reasonable,” Ren said, trying to hide the growing nervousness in his voice. His stomach was starting to tie itself in knots again. “And he feels indebted to us. If… you know, if he was going to rat us out, he would’ve just told Cleo, right? Cleo could probably take us if she wanted to.”

“We don’t know that. Well, we know Cleo could probably take us - but we don’t know if he’ll keep a secret. People are crazy, Ren!” Gem yanked on her braid in dismay. “And he has every reason to turn us in! The town hates him. They’d hate him a lot less if he got rid of the resident ghouls.”

“I don’t think he’d turn us in,” Ren said firmly, more for himself than for Gem. “I mean… he’s still a pacifist. He told me-”

“Can we trust him?” Gem snapped. “Honestly Ren, can we?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Oh man.”

“But we’ve got the I-owe-you. Could we turn it in for something like that?”

“Ren, if he was going to tell someone, I don’t think a dumb little knot is going to stop him.”

The two of them fell into pensive silence, broken only by the sound of their footsteps, and the general background noise of Haltvale. A few streets over, some kids were playing, laughing and screaming with reckless abandon. Someone whistled while they baked near an open window. There was a murmur ahead, a signal the crowd gathered around Town Hall might still be there.

“Well, if he does tell someone,” Ren said quietly, “it’s just me, right?”

“What do you mean, ‘just you’?”

“I’m the only one he knows about.” Ren swallowed past a lump growing in his throat. Fear, sharp and lancing, was twisting into the knot in his stomach, and he did his best to keep it buried away from his voice. “So… use that to your advantage, I guess?”

They fell silent again. Gem slipped her hand into Ren’s and interlaced their fingers together. It was a comforting gesture, and one he appreciated. It saved him from the darkest corners his mind was starting to spiral into.

“We’re- honestly we’re being kind of ridiculous,” Gem mumbled, and she squeezed his hand once. “This is worst-case scenario stuff. Nothing will probably come of it.”

“Right.” Ren said doubtfully.

“... should we tell Doc?”

They stepped off the road and onto the edge of the Town Square. There was still a crowd gathered, though it was noticeably smaller than when they’d left it hours before. Doc and False still stood at its head, the pair of them looking exhausted. The vex had moved on at some point. At least, Ren didn’t see them on the rooftops anymore. He couldn’t decide if that was reassuring or not.

“Doc’s got enough on his plate,” Ren said.

“Yeah…”

“We’ll… the second it looks like things are going wrong, we’ll tell him.”

“You promise?”

Ren took a second to breathe, reaffirming himself before answering. “I promise.”

Chapter Text

A week passed by in a nervous haze, filled with the general anxiety that came from watching for peril in any place it could possibly manifest. Ren found himself jumping at shadows, a nervous coil in his stomach every time they entered town or someone knocked on the door to visit. They had several visitors in that short week, much to Ren’s chagrin. Word spread around Haltvale of Ren’s attack and people were curious: curious and scared and bored and in need of good gossip. They cared too, that was in there as well. Folks wanted to make sure the Octagon was still standing, and the trio was greeted warmly the one time they came back to town to pick up groceries. Folks left them gifts of food and drink and company. One bawdy hunter offered to teach Ren how to wrestle. Haltvale’s universal love language was lending a helping hand; the same hands that built homes for those displaced or newlywed came in turns to comfort the Octagon, and repay them for the help they’d given out in kind over the years. Despite how it wore in Ren’s nerves, he appreciated it. 

There were a few more sightings of the “egg phantom,” generally from tired or intoxicated townsfolk wandering home at night and seeing shapes in the corners of their eyes. Otherwise, though, it seemed whatever had attacked Ren had vanished back into whatever aether it’d first emerged from.

That was until Doc knocked loudly on Ren’s door, jarring him awake to a gray and miserable sunrise. 

“Get up,” Doc ordered. The tone in his voice left no room for protest. “One of the goats is missing.”

Doc stormed off into the house, and the door shut itself behind him. Ren scrambled to get dressed, tripping over the general scatter of his room in his rush. By the time he was stumbling out of his bedroom, Gem was up as well. She tied her hair back in a bun as she walked, and the pair of them staggered through a living room Doc hadn’t bothered to light a lamp in. The back door was open, and in the field Ren could already see Doc jumping the fence into the pasture, Vigenere dogging his steps as he marched towards the barn.

“Doc, slow down brother,” Ren yawned, rubbing what was left of the sleep from his eyes. Gem beat him to the fence, slipping smoothly over the bars. Ren stumbled his way over, limbs still clumsy from the rude awakening. He jogged to catch up with Gem and they fumbled past a pair of goats snuffling around the barn doors, looking for their breakfast. 

"Who's missing?" Gem called, looking over the gathered flock and mentally counting heads. Ren stretched, trying to knock some of the stiffness out of his limbs. His back popped uncomfortably.

"Porta," Doc said curtly, leaning over one of the stalls to search. 

"Now Doc," Gem said as politely as she could manage at the crack of dawn, "you do remember Porta is pregnant, right?"

"Yeah, like fit to pop any day now," Ren yawned. "I bet she’s hiding to have her babies in peace, dude."

"I have checked all the hiding places," Doc snapped, running a hand through his unkempt hair. In the dim light of the barn interior, Ren could just make out the bags underneath his eyes. “She’s not here. And Vigenere is all in a tizzy-”

“Doc it’s only just sunup,” Gem interrupted him, crossing her arms.

“Yeah aren’t we supposed to be staying indoors at night for sky-monster-avoidance purposes?” Ren chipped in, brows knitting with concern. “Why in the world-”

“I was worried about her,” Doc said defensively, leaning over another nearby stall to check for a goat he already knew wasn’t there. “Besides, I’m fine. All in one piece. Now, we need to-”

“You need to sleep, Doc,” Ren insisted. “I swear every time one of the goats is kidding it’s the same thing.”

“It is not the same thing!” Doc yelled, startling a few of the goats standing nearby him. “She’s missing! We need to- just- fine.” He shoved his way past them, storming out into the pasture. “If you two are so sure nothing is wrong, go back to sleep.”

Ren and Gem exchanged a long-suffering look. Gem sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Every time,” Ren whispered to her indignantly.

“I know Ren,” she whined, scrubbing at her face tiredly. “And it looks like it’s going to rain, too.”

They followed Doc outside. Ren tracked him with his eyes as he lumbered over to one of the many shelters they’d set up for the goats to hide in, scattered across the pasture. Gem tapped Ren’s shoulder and pointed him towards the back fence to look, and then she broke away to check by one of the feeding troughs. Ren sighed, cast a doubtful look at the clouds above, and made his way across the pasture.

“Find anything yet?” Ren asked with forced enthusiasm as he passed Doc. He earned himself a disgruntled mutter in reply and nothing else. He hadn’t really expected anything else, really. Ren tried not to get too annoyed by it. Doc was allowed to be a little eccentric when it came to his goats… he just wished it didn’t happen so early in the morning. Ren swept along the back fence, investigating every ditch and climb for signs of a hiding animal. Goats were surprisingly easy to lose, and when one didn’t want to be found, it was pretty good at accomplishing that. Even the massive ones Doc had milling around his farm were deceptively good at making themselves scarce. He could remember at least two other times the goats had gone kidding, and no one had been able to find them until the goats meandered out of hiding later. Of course, Doc had been inconsolable then, too. It was probably unfair of him, but Ren thought Doc was a bit too attached to the goats.

Ren sighed as he ducked down to search around a rock pile the goats liked to climb and dig around. He found a few scuffs, but nothing substantial enough to hide anything. Then he hopped up on the climb himself to look around, hoping he didn’t invite a king-of-the-hill battle from one of the nearby herd in the process. He got a few longing stares, but none of the goats were fixing to tackle him off yet, so he counted that as a win. A large raindrop landed on Ren’s shoulder and he scowled up at the sky in time for a second drop to land on his nose. Ren scowled and shook his head, and was about to climb down off the rocks when a flutter of something caught his attention. Across the fence, the woods approached the property in a persistent tangle, thick and unkempt. It was a dark wood, and it wasn’t uncommon for undead to wander beneath the branches well into the morning, the sun having to work harder to send them back to slumber again. That was his first assumption when he saw the flutter of white moving amidst the branches. Then he noticed how high up it was, and a sinking feeling crept into his chest.

“Guys?” Ren called over his shoulder nervously, “Uh… I think I see something.”

He heard Doc running up on him, Vigenere thundering just a pace after. Doc stopped beside him, peering into the woods in the direction Ren pointed. There was a flickering there, something that could’ve been a bird if Ren weren’t staring right at it. Doc swore loudly and vaulted over the fence.

“Doc!” Ren gasped. “We’ve got to stay together-!”

Then Gem leaped over the fence, having sprinted from the far side of the field, and with a muttered curse of his own, Ren followed. The rain was starting to pick up, jerking tree leaves and chilling Ren’s shoulders as it wet his shirt. The wind would be cold if the trees didn’t break it up just as soon as he entered them. Ren stumbled over a tree branch, and quietly marveled at how easily Gem maneuvered the ground in front of them - though Doc had them both far outpaced. He skid to a halt at the base of a tree, glaring up at the fluttering thing Ren had spotted. Gem was a few strides behind him, and Ren slowed to a jog to keep from tripping over stubborn roots.

“Oh man,” Gem sighed breathlessly. “That’s not good, is it?”

“If we give you a boost, Ren, can you climb up?” Doc asked.

“What’s the matter old man,” Ren joked, trying to lighten some of the grim mood he could already see coming, “too scared to climb up there and look yourself?”

“I am not old,” Doc scowled at him, and Ren cheesed a grin in return. “I just don’t want to test the carry weight of my prosthetic on a tree this tall.”

“Climb it one-handed?”

“Why don’t you climb it one-handed, since you think it’s so easy.”

“I already got attacked by a vex once. I’m not going to just straight up invite it a second time, my dude.”

“But it’s fine if I break my neck up there?”

“Your butt’s too big to get carried off, I’m pretty sure.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Gem grunted, her voice already high above their heads. Ren and Doc looked up in unison to watch as she made quick work of the tree, hauling herself up branch by swaying branch. She slipped once, the spattering rain making the bark slick. Ren bit down a cry of alarm as she caught herself.

“Gem! Be careful!” Doc called up to her. She flashed a grin and a thumbs-up and kept climbing. About halfway up the trunk she came to the thing that had drawn them all to the tree in the first place: a scrap of white, waving in the wind, caught on the high branches. Gem inched her way out towards it, grimaced as she grabbed the scrap off the tree, and sat for a moment turning it over in her hands.

“Well, the good news is,” Gem called down to them, “it’s not bloody.”

“And the bad news?” Ren asked.

“This is definitely goat fur.”

They waited impatiently as she clambered down, taking care not to slip, and once her feet were firmly on the ground again, she passed the fur over to them. Doc held it in his hands, with a look on his face like someone just told him his dad died, all bricked-up grief. Ren put a hand on his back consolingly, but Doc shrugged him off. 

“Um…” Gem spoke falteringly, not entirely sure what to say. “She could, you know… she could be okay, right? Maybe it just blew up there?”

“There’s no holes in the fence,” Doc glowered, his voice low. “The gate was closed when I got up. We found fur in a tree…” Doc sighed defeatedly. “She probably wandered away from the herd and got carried off by whatever attacked Ren.”

“I dunno. I mean, she’s a big goat, Doc,” Gem said, arms crossed thoughtfully. “Sure, she was a little on the smaller side for our stock, but you’d still be hard pressed to find anyone strong enough to lift her, let alone fly off with her.”

“Hard pressed, but not impossible.”

“Most folks aren’t as strong as you, Doc.” Ren smirked.

“I don’t even think Doc could carry one of the goats, honestly.” Gem shrugged.

The two watched Doc, waiting for some kind of dare from him, the arrogant and good-natured 'I could so carry one of the goats!' or something similarly Doc-ish in enthusiasm. He said nothing though, only frowning down at the scrap of fur in his hands, disconsolate. Ren and Gem exchanged a miserable glance, and Ren found himself feeling guilty, knowing he'd been convinced Doc was overreacting just a few minutes ago. He’d much rather have been proven right. There was… something wrong about all this though. Ren had trouble putting words to it exactly. 

“Do you think… that might've been put there on purpose?” Ren wondered out loud, his gaze tracing back up the tree again. He felt the others’ eyes on him, and clearing his throat uncomfortably, he elaborated. “I mean, from where I was standing, that fur was right at eye level. And it’s just loose fur, right? No blood? You’d think if it got torn going through the trees, it’d be messier. There’d be broken branches at least, and probably a trail of hair or something, right?”

Doc squinted up at the branches, one eye wincing shut when a smattering of rain fell on his face. Gem shielded her eyes and did the same.

“What would be the point in putting it there, though?” Gem asked.

“To get someone looking, I reckon?” Ren shrugged.

“It is a good way to ambush someone out here alone,” Doc hissed out a long breath through his teeth, an unsettling, out-of-place sound that reminded Ren of the times he’d tried to growl with his ribbon in, “and I fell right for it.”

Ren’s stomach dropped into his shoes. Suddenly the woods around them seemed so much darker than they had before, the trees pressed-in and looming, caging them in. The world was overly loud, the clatter of rain through the leaves drowning out any other noise and the branches hiding the sky from view. Would they even be able to hear something flying for them? Every shuddering branch in the rain was suddenly a new possible threat and the phantom eyes of something watching him crawled up Ren’s back. He stepped closer to Gem, like being pressed together might somehow keep them safe. Gem shivered as their shoulders brushed each other. Doc scanned the branches above them, his expression grim.

At length, Doc said, “Well, there’s a chance Porta’s alive then. We need to find her. But we need to go prepared, if we’re going. Stay close to me.”

Doc led the way back, marching to the cadence of increasing rainfall. Ren’s back and shoulders were soaked by the time they made it to the house, and he had to kick mud from his boots before he could walk through the door. It was a miserable day to be out searching for a lost goat - lost, because admitting she’d been taken just to lure them out was too terrifying a concept for Ren to think about right now. They grabbed their raincoats, and Ren changed into a fresh shirt so he wouldn’t be shivering the whole walk. Then he raided the cabinets for something quick and easy to carry for breakfast, eventually settling on slicing some bread and cheese for everyone. There was a loud clatter, and he turned to see Doc pull False’s sword from the hook it’d been hanging on by the front door. Doc slid the sword halfway out of the sheath, inspecting the blade before clicking it back in again.

Ren swallowed nervously. “You sure we’re going to need that?”

“We need to be prepared,” Doc said curtly. “Are you ready to go?”

“Uh… ready as I’ll ever be I guess.”

Doc looked to Gem, who was just shouldering on her jacket. The minute their eyes met, she scowled.

“Gem-”

“If you’re about to tell me-”

“-you’re staying here.”

“No, I’m not!” Gem snapped angrily. “If Ren’s going, I’m going.”

Ren focused on the task of packing food, trying his best to make himself invisible. This was a fight he didn’t want to be a part of. 

“You’re staying here,” Doc repeated, his voice stern and fatherly. It was a tone he didn’t use on Gem often. “Someone needs to watch after the herd and make sure no one else gets taken while we’re gone.”

“Didn’t we just establish that thing is trying to get people alone?” Gem pressed on adamantly, advancing on Doc a few steps. “And you’re just going to leave me here and give it what it wants?”

“That’s why you’re going to stay indoors where nothing can get to you,” Doc instructed, belting False’s sword around his waist, “and you’re going to lock up as soon as we go. Keep an eye on Vigenere through the window. She’ll let you know if something is wrong.”

“Why me?!” Gem shouted indignantly. “Ren doesn’t even want to go!”

Ren gave a startled yelp. “Please don’t drag me into this.”

“It’s because you’re the smallest,” Doc said calmly.

Gem rolled her eyes. “Doc, this is ridiculous. No flying thing is going to carry me-”

“If you have to get help,” Doc interrupted her, frustration raising his voice, “Vigenere will run with you faster.”

Ren felt a chill prick his spine with goosebumps. For a moment, the only sound that could be heard in the house was the patter of rainfall on the roof, frenetic and tense. Doc's stern insistence competed with the indignant scowl flushing Gem's cheeks, and they watched each other with mirrored stubbornness. There was worry as well, so thick and present Ren was sure he could cut it with the knife he'd used to slice the bread. Gem broke their quiet standoff first. She scowled at the dining table like it'd insulted her, wilting beneath the severity of Doc's gaze.

"This is important, Gem," Doc told her, the edge in his voice softening. "If one of us gets hurt, or we aren't back by nightfall, time will be working against you."

"If one of you gets hurt, I could just heal you," Gem muttered falteringly, crossing her arms. It was less of an act of defiance, and more like she was holding herself together. 

“Your magic doesn't work like that. If there is danger, we can't wait for you to stop and heal for an hour. It is more important that you can run to get xB and Hypno, or even False. We need to be able to control as much of what happens as we can." Doc studied her a moment longer, waiting for an argument that never came. Some of the tenseness worked its way out of his jaw and he sighed. “Besides, I know for a fact you can read my signs after dark. Ahm… Ren has trouble finding them sometimes. And no one else in town would even know what to look for.”

“Ren can find them fine.” 

“Not as good as you.”

Gem scratched at her arm nervously and shook her head. “I hate this. I hate everything about this.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want…” Gem huffed. “You’re leaving me behind to wait, Doc.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand the waiting. You know I can’t.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do it if I thought there was a better option,” Doc said consolingly, a hand resting awkwardly on the pommel of False’s sword, unused to its impeding presence. “You won’t be waiting long, I promise. Ren and I will just sweep the woods, and we’ll be back before sunset.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“I expect you to.” 

Ren watched them, and was struck by the sudden feeling he’d been displaced in time. Maybe it was just the grim topics of conversation lately, but the way Gem and Doc stood, the way they talked, there was a hauntedness to it that hinted at familiarity. He could see them standing like this years ago, Doc about to march off to a battle somewhere, and Gem stuck behind waiting, spiteful of every second of it. That… probably wasn’t what it was actually like. Gem would’ve been much younger, and Doc too for that matter. He wouldn’t have his prosthetic, and maybe he would’ve worn armor. Ren was starting to feel dread, cold and consuming, pooling in his guts, because Doc was about to drag Ren with him out into the woods, and they weren’t going to war or anything, but suddenly it felt like it. Ren blinked, remembered he was supposed to be packing breakfast, and did his best to swallow his nerves.

Doc reached for the knife belted on his hip and held it out to Gem. She frowned down at it, thoroughly unimpressed. “And just what is that for?”

“In case you get attacked?”

“Um, no.” Gem gently pushed his hand away from her. “I’m the one staying home alone. I think I should get the cool sword, thank you very much.”

Ren barked a laugh, more relieved at the return of some of their normal banter than anything else. Gem stuck her tongue out at him.

Doc smiled dryly. “Is that what you think?”

“Why yes. It is.” She replied, crossing her arms behind her back. “The better to defend our lovely farm with.”

“Right. So tell me, Warrior Gem, between the knife and the sword, which one have you used more often?”

Gem let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Doc, come on.”

“My second question would be, between the two, which are you less likely to poke an eye out with in the heat of the moment?”

Gem snatched the knife from his hand bitterly, and Doc chuckled. “Be careful with that, it’s my favorite knife.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“And don’t throw it at anything, you’ll chip the blade.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be rescuing a goat?” Gem made a shooing gesture with her hands, made mildly threatening by the knife she was holding. “Get out of here before I decide to go do your job for you.”

The trio split, and Ren shouldered on his hood as he and Doc stepped out into the rain. The sky was a dull and endless gray, and Ren thought it suited a miserable trek through the woods looking for a lost goat. Gem locked the door behind them, and Ren could feel her eyes on their backs as they made their way to the woods.  

“Stay close,” Doc told him needlessly. Ren stepped closer anyway. “Let’s hope we find some good news out here.”

Chapter Text

Ren normally liked the woods, and maybe he would like the woods again soon, sometime a few weeks from now when the sun was shining and the circumstances were different. Right now, though, Ren never felt more menaced by the woods in his life. It was dark; the cloud cover and the interwoven branches worked together to shade the woodland floor in a false and guttering twilight. There was a strong chill. Even with his raincoat on, the dampness soaked into every breath, slicked his hair against his head and ran down his neck like crawling fingers. The trees broke up the wind - that, at least, he could be thankful for - but the waving branches caught at the corners of his eyes, scaring him with phantom impressions of some baleful creature swooping by. He felt watched, less because he thought he actually was, and more from the paranoia of jumping at shadows too long. The mud that caked his boots made his footsteps heavy. He thought it’d be awfully hard to run if something dove for him right now. He tripped over a branch he didn’t see because he was too busy looking up, and cursed at it under his breath.

“This would be a lot easier if we could fan out to search,” Doc said, startling Ren with the broken silence. “I’d rather us not get out of sight of each other, though.”

“What are we even looking for?” Ren asked him, casting a wary glance to a moving branch to his left. “If that thing just stuck some fur in the tree, there’s no guarantee Porta’s even out this way, right?”

“Maybe not, but I’m not about to give up on her,” Doc said dutifully. “These animals depend on us to keep them safe, you know.”

“Right… but they’re still just animals, my dude.”

Doc ignored him, grabbing up a curved stick from the ground and turning it in his hands. Satisfied with it, he used it to hook a branch from overhead and pull it within reach. He scratched a quick sign into the branch and released it again, showering them both in falling leaves and heavy raindrops. Ren shuddered and shook out his hair, as though it would help.

“I’m leaving a two-lines mark,” Doc told him, “just in case we get separated.”

Ren grimaced. “Oh jeez.”

Doc chuckled and continued onward into the forest, shouldering his way past some low hanging branches as he went. “Try not to worry too much Ren. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst - it’s better to have a backup plan than not.”

“You always put your markers so high up,” Ren whined.

“Yes, well, they’re supposed to be a little hard to find,” Doc shrugged. “Random people aren’t supposed to know they’ve stumbled on a path.”

“Well, I’ll leave marks lower, just so you know. And somewhere sensible, like on a tree trunk.”

"And you'll get yourself lost while you're at it."

The murmur of the creek made itself known on the edges of Ren’s hearing, and then the ground curved down suddenly to its bank. The shore was a slick of gray-green pebbles, sand, and mud, and hanging from one of the trees was a rope Doc had tied up years ago for swinging into the muddy waters. They had good memories here of hot summer days splashing around in the water and skipping rocks down the stream. Now, the rainwater rippling the creek’s surface drew out the fish, and silvery minnows flashed like shards of glass near the surface of the brackish water.

Doc slid his way down the embankment towards the shore and Ren followed a step behind him, reaching for a nearby tree to help him balance. Doc picked one direction to walk and Ren meandered the opposite way, not entirely sure what he was looking for, but looking regardless. He kept a careful watch over his shoulder to make sure Doc stayed in sight, and glanced regularly up at the trees for any sign of… well… the monster that’d attacked him. Or more fur. He figured the white should stand out in all the green and brown of the landscape around him, though so far the only spots of color he noticed were tangles of wildflowers bunched at the bases of some of the trees. Ren kicked a stone into the water and kept looking.

He was about halfway to a bend in the creek, on the verge of turning back and rejoining Doc, when a scuff in the mud caught his eye. Ren studied it for a moment, trying to pick out a hoof-track in the shape of it. He found another track in the mud at the water’s edge, more clearly defined, and let out a thoughtful tsk! through his teeth.

“Huh, well how about that.” Ren stepped back away from the tracks and called Doc to join him. He got no reply. Ren looked around, and his pulse spiked in his chest as he suddenly became aware of the fact that Doc was nowhere to be seen. He turned in place, scanning the woods and riverbank for any sign of him, only to be met with empty woods and the sound of running water. Ren swallowed hard and called again, louder this time.

Then Doc appeared around a bend in the creek, and Ren nearly fainted with relief. Instead, he shouted irritably, “What happened to staying in sight, Doc?!”

“I could ask you the same thing!” Doc snapped, brushing mud off of False's sword and slamming it back in its sheath. Ren looked him up and down, taking in a very new smear of mud up the side of Doc’s boots and splattered across his pant leg, and the water soaked well past his knees. In spite of himself, Ren laughed.

“Did you fall in?”

“I thought you were in trouble!”

“And you decided swimming to me was the best option?”

Doc wrung out the end of his jacket, trying to rid himself of some of the offending water. “Oh, whatever! Next time you call for me when there’s a monster around, I’ll just ignore it. That sharp tongue of yours can save you instead!”

“You slipped in the mud, didn’t you?”

Doc threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. “Yes, I slipped in the mud. What do you want, Ren?”

Ren pointed wordlessly down to the tracks at his feet. Doc studied them, the annoyed scowl on his face melting away in an instant.

"Looks like she came this way after all," Ren observed.

"Thank heavens. I was really beginning to think, you know-" Doc shook his head. "Nevermind. Looks like we cross the stream then. Step carefully, the water's probably deeper right now."

"Not sure I'm the one who should be worried about slipping."

Doc rolled his eyes and Ren chuckled. The two of them found a shallow part of the stream - or as shallow as they could get, given all the rainfall - and waded their way across. Ren took off his boots before he waded in, and winced at the feeling of mud and pebbles slipping between his toes. Once he slipped in the mud, and probably would’ve gone for his own swim if Doc hadn’t caught his outstretched arm. They hauled themselves out of the water on the other side of the bank, and Doc parsed around for more tracks while Ren put his boots back on. The rain was starting to slow a bit, he noted, casting a wary look up towards the trees. Fewer drops made it through the canopy to spatter his head and shoulders, though the sky past the leaves was still a threatening slate gray.

Doc waved Ren over when he’d picked up the trail again. On the firmer ground away from the river, the tracks were increasingly shallow. They’d get harder to find soon, but that didn’t bother Ren much. He glanced around, and deciding he was reasonably safe in the woods, raised a hand to his ribbon to untie his hair.

Doc caught his wrist, stopping him.

“What?”

“Maybe we reserve that in case we really need it.” Doc wasn’t looking at him, instead scanning the treetops, searching for anything that might be watching back. Ren’s stomach gave a nervous twist.

“You think we’re being watched?”

“Can’t tell,” Doc said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He picked out the tracks and followed them. “If they are watching us though, the less they know about us the better. They come swooping in to attack us, the element of surprise will mean everything.”

Ren figured that made sense. He also thought Doc’s preparedness was its own kind of ominous. It made him uneasy, and the nervous twinge he was feeling started turning his guts in knots. He followed close behind Doc, trying not to fall back into the habit of staring at the treetops. 

“I don’t know what you are,” Ren said, talking more to keep his mind off of his anxiety than anything else.

“What?”

“The element of surprise thing,” Ren laughed tensely. “I don’t know what you are.”

“Yes you do.”

“I’ve only ever seen you with your bracelet on, my brother.” Ren looked pointedly at the string of beads on Doc’s prosthetic. In the low light of the drenched forest it was impossible to see, but he knew lining the inside of each of the beads was a small thread of redstone, Doc’s alternative to a binding ribbon.

Doc hummed thoughtfully under his breath. “Huh… I guess I haven’t really- no, wait, the night we found you. You saw me then.”

Ren barked a laugh. “There’s no way I remember that, dude.”

“Really? I thought it was pretty unforgettable.”

“I was bleeding out, Doc.”

Doc opened his mouth to say something, frowned thoughtfully and then closed it again. He paused to pull a branch down from overhead and mark the path. “How does that affect anything?”

“How does-?! Do you remember every second of losing your arm?”

“Yes?”

Ren blinked incredulously. “My dude, you’re insane.”

Doc shrugged.

“Anyway, no, I don’t remember that.”

“Well, all the better to surprise you with, if you ever go moon drunk through the countryside.”

“Oh.” Ren’s breath left him, a feeling like betrayal creeping in its wake. It must have shown in his face somewhere, because Doc was suddenly backpedaling. 

“Ahm, that was a bad joke to make, I’m sorry. I trust you Ren. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be sending Gem alone with you up the mountain every month.”

“Right. Sure,” Ren agreed doubtfully.

They continued their walk in tense silence, Doc noticeably uncomfortable. He scratched at the back of his neck and ran his hand up through his hair, and it spiked at odd angles because of the rain water. Ren busied himself with searching the ground for tracks and balling his hands in his jacket pockets to try and warm them. All the damp was really starting to get to him, and his knuckles were beginning to ache. A feeling of misery, inflated by all the gloom and nervousness, wrapped itself around his shoulders like a heavy blanket. Doc marked another tree branch, showering them with heavy raindrops when he released it back into the air.

“It’s… more practical you don’t know,” Doc said finally, haltingly, like he was still undecided if this was something he wanted to talk about. He soldiered on regardless, committing to whatever unpleasantness was on his mind. “If the worst were to ever happen, you know, and the baron ever caught you or something. You could maybe tell them I am also a monster, but you couldn’t tell them what I am. Same for Gem. I mean, she probably remembers what I look like, but we haven’t really discussed-”

Doc bit off the end of his sentence with a disgruntled huff and stopped walking. He had smacked his knuckles against the sword hilt as they walked. Doc wrung out his wrist, making a pointed effort not to meet Ren's gaze. Instead, he focused on turning over some brush, searching for more hoof tracks. He found what he was looking for and started walking again. 

“Prepare for the worst, hope for the best,” Doc concluded.

“You’re paranoid,” Ren retorted after a measured silence.

“Ahm, yes, probably.” Doc cleared his throat. “I would argue I’m reasonably so.”

“Not really?” Ren said, unable to hide the bitterness creeping into his voice. Doc watched him from the corner of his eye. “I mean, what makes you think I would-? Honestly, I’m kind of insulted you think I’d betray you guys if something like that ever happened. The worst, or whatever. I mean I like to think-”

“Gods above, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” Doc hissed, pinching the space between his eyes. “It’s not a question of loyalty Ren. But good intentions mean nothing when- you know what? I don’t want to talk about this. Can we drop this?”

“You’re the one who started this whole conversation!”

“I know and I regret it,” Doc said firmly, shoving his way through some underbrush rougher than he needed to. A small sapling snapped under the weight of his boot as he crunched through it.

“Well why stop now? You’ve already got all your misguided pessimism out in the open.”

“It’s not pessimism.”

“My bad, your paranoia.”

If Doc had hackles to raise, he would, and Ren figured his own would be bristled as well. “I’m being realistic, Ren.”

Ren crossed his arms stubbornly and squared his shoulders. “What part of ‘I won’t tell my family and friends anything about myself for fear of being betrayed to the baron’ sounds realistic to you, Doc?”

“It’s not betrayal I worry about-”

“I mean even Gem?” Ren snapped furiously. “Even Gem?! Like jeez Doc, I get me, I guess. Well, actually, no, I don't get you not trusting me. I mean sure, I'm not village folk or whatever, and I'm not from the valley and I wasn't here when your local Armageddon happened- but I've kept everything about us secret well enough! And you’ve known Gem for way longer than you’ve known me. What makes you think she’d ever rat you out? She'd move heaven and earth to make you happy! That's just insulting, dude. I'm insulted on her behalf."

Doc's mouth was set in a hard line, but if he had an argument, he kept it to himself. He only paused long enough to mark another branch. Doc’s stubborn muteness was unbearable, full to the brim with every angry and bitter thought Ren could possibly think, and he could no longer tell between his yelling and the resounding silence afterwards which was louder. He was cold, and nervous, and miserable, and becoming increasingly aware of the uncomfortable squelch of his left boot where water had somehow gotten into his sock, and he thought if Doc ignored him for another second, he might threaten to turn around and walk home.

"Ahm… are you done?" Doc asked awkwardly. 

Ren let out a sharp breath through his nose.

"Is that a yes?"

"Give me a few minutes,” Ren muttered petulantly. “I'm sure I'll think of something else."

"I didn't realize trust was such a big thing for you," Doc said cautiously. It was a very purposeful olive branch of a statement, an apology he was still measuring against his own convictions. "I'm sorry I've made you feel… ahm… untrusted?"

Ren rolled his eyes. “But?”

“But, ahm… I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Right.”

Doc sighed and looked up at the sky, like he was beseeching it for a new conversation topic. “I mean we can. It’s just very unpleasant.”

“That tracks with the weather at least.”

Doc ran a hand through his wet hair, and Ren thought he was a little more distressed about whatever he was thinking about than he needed to be. Or maybe what he was thinking about was really just that unpleasant. Regardless, on the list of reactions to his outburst that Ren had expected, Doc being fidgety and uneasy hadn’t really made the list. Fidgety and uneasy weren't really - what had Gem called them? Doc-isms? Nervous Doc-isms were pacing and talking out loud to himself and long, from-the-bottom-of-his-soul sighs that hissed more than they breathed. Doc didn't fidget, or if he did, Ren had never noticed it before. 

Ren let out a breath, and decided maybe he should pick his battles a little more wisely. "Don't worry about it."

Doc chipped at the bark on the stick he’d been using to pull down tree branches, exposing the white-green underneath. "Too late, I think."

"No really, it's fine. I'm being unreasonable."

"I don't think so?" Doc got his nail underneath the bark on the stick and pulled. A thin strip ripped away for a few inches before breaking. "You just don't know. And here, I could tell you, and then you'd understand that this isn't… some weird trust thing that you haven't earned yet, or something."

"But it's… unpleasant?" Ren finished for him after a considerable pause. Doc nodded, and it seemed to Ren like he was sizing up something in his head as he did. It was a calculating look that Ren was starting to become familiar with: it was the same look Joe had fixed behind his glasses when he’d decided to tell Ren he was a pacifist, the same look xB had grimaced just before explaining what had happened to his village. It was Doc balking right before a rough conversation, and then finally resigning himself to it. He pulled another strip of bark from the stick.

“So, the baron,” Doc started falteringly, like he was still trying to figure out how to put his thoughts to order, “he’s a very scary man. The baron has a village to care for, a village he’s sworn to protect at all costs from monsters like us. We’re the enemy. We’re the thing they fear the most. That kind of fear and desperation makes good people do very terrible things. ‘At all costs’ goes a long way, Ren. So does fear. So does desperation. Ahm… so does pain, for that matter.”

Doc peeled another strip of bark away, revealing more of the bone-white of the stick underneath. The more Doc peeled at the bark, the better he got at it. What started as small, easily broken strips were starting to turn into long strings that ran its entire length. Doc dropped the strand he’d peeled to the ground and then reached for a branch overhead to mark their path. “If the baron catches you, or me, or Gem, ahm… it’s not… Ren, you understand that the baron will not just ask you if you’re the only one, and take you at your word if you say yes. And if, in that position, you’re feeling brave and say you won’t tell him anything - he will not just kill you and move on. That is not how scared, desperate people who have promised to protect other scared, desperate people at all costs handle the thing they’re scared of. There is too much risk involved.”

The rain was starting to pick back up again. Ren measured it in the jerking of the leaves in the canopy overhead, and the larger raindrops that drenched his shoulders. He shivered.

“When you say no, sir baron, I’m the only monster in town,” Doc continued, peeling away another long strip of bark, “he will probably do something like break your fingers one at a time. Or pull your teeth. Or some other very painful thing. And he will keep doing it until you decide you would tell him anything to make the pain stop. Lies. Truths. Complete nonsense, probably. Anything to make it stop hurting. That kind of thing has nothing to do with loyalty. You can love someone with every fiber of your body and still break under something like that. I would, I think.” Doc laughed, and it was hollow like the rainfall on the leaves overhead. “People are not as resilient as the heroes in storybooks, Ren. We fear painful things, we cry when our bodies break, and we beg for mercy far sooner than we think we should. So… when I say it’s better you don’t know-”

“I get it Doc.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

The two of them fell silent, and the silence was loud and full and intense in a way Ren wasn’t expecting. It was full of rain, a cacophony over their heads that hit every branch and leaf. It was full of damp snapping of twigs and leaves, like breaking bones beneath their feet as they continued doggedly on through the brush. For Ren it was also filled with feelings of stupidity, shame, and his long cautious vigil over Doc’s emotional state. Ren didn’t know what he was waiting for, exactly. For Doc to cry like Hypno had, maybe. For his face to grimace or break with some kind of regret like xB’s. For him to wince and change the subject like Joe. Doc didn’t. He merely pulled another long strip of bark off the stick he was carrying, revealing more bone-white than brown. His voice stayed even while he spoke. It didn’t waver or break, or fill with any barely-contained emotion. Everything Doc said was with the same casual tone by which he might talk about the weather or relay news from town. Ren thought it was weird, unsettling almost, how calm Doc was about the direction the conversation had turned, purposefully distanced from the reality behind the words.

“You’re right. That was really unpleasant, Doc.”

Doc shrugged. “Hopefully it gives you a little peace of mind - about the trusting part, anyway.”

“Right…”

“Because I do trust you, Ren. And honestly, if it ever got to the point where one of us was taken by the baron, how much we know probably wouldn’t matter anyway. The baron would already know there’s more of us hiding. It’s just… this is the only thing I can control.” Doc pulled at another strip of bark, slow and careful. There wasn’t much left on the stick anymore. His hand picked at what little was left regardless. “There are some things I can’t protect you and Gem from. I’m just not strong enough, no matter how much I’d like to be. And let’s be honest here, if the baron captured one of you two, well, I am probably dead at that point. I would hope so, anyway.”

“Uhm… I wouldn’t.”

Doc shrugged again. “We are talking in worst-case scenarios here.”

“...Right.”

“But in all of this worst-case scenario, where one of us is taken to some dark dungeon somewhere, and broken within an inch of our lives…” Doc trailed off. He stopped picking at the bark, and his gaze pinned itself somewhere in the far distance. His brow knit into a frown, and he swallowed quietly. “There’s a special kind of fear that happens, when you know you’re going to die, and you have suffered a great deal, and you realize that because of you, someone else is about to suffer the same way you have.”

Doc stopped walking. He reached up to a branch overhead, pulled it down slowly, and marked their path. Instead of letting the branch go like he had all the others, Doc hooked his stick around it and slowly raised it back up again, saving them from the spray of water.

“I cannot control if the baron finds us, or takes one of us, or what he might do to us when that happens. But… I could save you from that fear, I think. So, you don’t know what I am, or what all I can do. Maybe I’m not a monster at all. Maybe I’m just a person who’s incredibly sympathetic. Whatever I am, you’re not telling the baron about it, so you can’t blame yourself for it later.”

Doc picked at the stick in his hand, frowned, and turned it over. He’d completely debarked it. With nothing left to fidget with, he shoved one hand deep into his pocket, while the other rested uncomfortably on the pommel of False's sword. “That was a very unpleasant conversation.”

“I’d say warn me next time, but you tried to,” Ren said quietly. “Well… you sucked at it. But you tried to.”

Doc gave him another shrug.

“How in the world did you say all of that with a straight face?” Ren swallowed hard and tried to steel his nerves. “I kind of want to cry, and I’ve just been walking here. I think this is legitimately the scariest conversation I’ve ever had in my entire life, my dude.”

Doc chuckled, but didn't say anything more. Ren thought he looked… dark. It was probably just the rain, or the ghost of the previous conversation, or the tired hunch in his shoulders, or a thousand other inconsequential things Ren tried to point out to himself. But Doc looked dark. He had a grim set to his jaw, a kind of glare beneath his furrowed brow, like he was chewing on bitter thoughts, and the conversation, for as scary as it was, didn't sit well with Ren. He didn't like the way Doc talked, the way his eyes dipped to the side like he was searching memories. It just didn't sit well. 

Ren got the feeling he should let it sit. He really should. He should ignore that this whole conversation happened, past the uneasiness. He should be thankful Doc was on his side and leave it at that. Doc was obviously done talking anyway. He'd fallen silent enough. But it was another loud silence, like they were standing on the skin of a soap bubble, waiting with bated breath for it to pop. Ren's thoughts were starting to wind themselves up into a circular chase, the edges of his conversation with xB and Hypno that refused to be forgotten crawling into his head, but he found himself opening his mouth anyway.

"So you've- like- uhm…" Ren suddenly realized he had no idea how to ask the question in his head. Doc was watching him from the corner of his eye, and it seemed to Ren like he was holding his breath. "I mean- it's just- its- you've-- Gem said you've met the baron before."

"I have."

"So is that how…? I mean. The baron, he captured people during the war, obviously. Or you wouldn't know this."

"Obviously," Doc agreed patiently.

"So are those the… uh… circumstances by which you met him, then?" Ren winced, and he thought he sounded stupid asking it the way he did, but he also couldn't bring himself to string the words 'Doc have you ever been tortured before?' into a sentence.

Doc snorted half a laugh and fixed his gaze on the woods ahead of them. "I've never been captured, no. If I had, I'd be dead. I thought I made that pretty obvious."

"Right," Ren laughed, because he was starting to get even more nervous. "It's just- I mean- you talk like you learned that stuff from experience."

Doc nodded, but he didn't elaborate. There was another very obvious question here, and it was on the edge of Ren's teeth: he was caught between morbid, train-wreck curiosity, and the glaring knowledge that he didn't want to know this. He was pretty scared of the answer, and he was scared of Doc. He was scared of the fact that, if you were going to admit some horrible truth about yourself, out in the middle of the woods somewhere where no one else could hear you was a good place for it. Ren also had the creeping feeling like Doc was testing him, or measuring him up, or at the very least content to say nothing while Ren squirmed in his own thoughts. 

Finally, Ren broke.

"Doc you- have you ever…?"

Ren broke again.

Doc was a scary person sometimes, but he wasn’t that scary. He wasn’t allowed to be that scary. He was just… intense. And quiet sometimes. And he didn’t talk about the war, because no one in Haltvale did, and also because he was on the wrong side of it, technically, according to the rest of them. Doc’s hands were caring hands. They were out here looking for a lost goat that really, they shouldn’t be, but they were out here because Doc cared. When Doc thought Ren had been in trouble earlier, he’d come running, almost face-planting in the mud in the process. He had carved a little wolf for him, and told him he’d protect him no matter what. He had just explained what “no matter what” and “at all cost” meant to some people, and the harm that could justify, and how you could be incredibly loving but still break under the pressure and-

Ren decided he didn’t want to ask the question he’d started to ask, so he asked a different one instead.

“Did you… know someone that that happened to?”

Doc smirked, and Ren got the distinct feeling that whatever invisible test had been laid out in front of him, he’d just failed it.

“Ahm, yes. I did.”

Ren let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Doc marked their path, checked the tracks they were following, and altered their course slightly to avoid a fallen tree in front of them. They trekked on, the rain persisting in its intensity overhead. They skirted around the hollows between the trees, where the ground was turning to mud and standing water. Ren figured most of the roads in Haltvale would be mud pits by now, as would the road into town. He hunched his shoulders against a breeze that murmured its way through.

“That other question you’re too scared to ask,” Doc said, quietly enough Ren almost didn’t hear him over the sound of wind and rain, “the answer is no.”

“Oh,” Ren said, because he didn’t know what else to say. “Uhm… good to know.”

He wanted to say something else. Anything else, really, besides letting the silence hang between them the way it did. Saying he was relieved felt like a betrayal though, and saying he already knew the answer was a lie. He wanted to justify his thoughts, to point at the horrible scary thing they’d just talked about, and say the conclusions he was fearful of coming to were rational. He also thought anything he said now would just make things worse, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

Chapter Text

There weren’t many times in his life Ren would describe as truly miserable, but he thought their walk through the woods was getting pretty darn close. His clothes were wet and heavy and cumbersome, his boots were so mud-caked that he tripped over them every other step, and his body couldn’t decide whether he was sweating hot or shivering cold. The rain seemed to be stopping again, but the slate gray of the sky overhead threatened them with more at any moment, and twice in the far distance Ren thought he heard the tired grumble of thunder. He figured it would make sense for the sky to let loose in a thunderstorm soon. That seemed to be the only logical next direction their fortunes could go. Still, the tracks they were following continued onward into the woods. Ren wanted to point out that there was no way Porta could walk this far while pregnant, let alone all in one night. Sure, they were slow going because they were agonizing over the trail, but even still, they’d walked a considerable distance. Far enough that Ren’s legs were starting to ache and he was starting to get hungry again - two more ills to add to his pile.

He wanted to ask Doc if they could stop and rest for a bit, but every time he looked in Doc’s direction he just… couldn’t. The previous conversation had soured badly, and every time Ren tried to speak past it, a bad taste filled his mouth. It wasn’t that he was scared of Doc, more that he was afraid he'd start a conversation and Doc would talk about more scary things, and Ren had had enough of talking about scary things. At the moment, he was more than willing to admit he was a bit of a coward about it, but also he was wearing himself out on his own tactless tangents. It had been one angry outburst that had got xB talking - and subsequently, got Hypno crying - and now it was a second one that had Ren almost convinced Doc was capable of war crimes. 

Presently, Doc was marking the path for them again, and Ren thought maybe that would buy him enough time to sit down on a tree stump or something and force Doc to stop moving. Of course, it was also possible Doc would just go on without him. Probably not, but Ren couldn’t really rule out the thought. Not completely. Then Doc was releasing the branch he’d marked back into the trees, and Ren had missed his chance to rest altogether. 

They kept walking.

The rain slowed even more, and Ren thought he caught a glimpse of blue in all the gray overhead. That was hopeful, at least. Maybe they would finally get the chance to dry off a little. Then they’d go home, and Gem would have hot tea and something good made up for lunch, or dinner, or whatever time it was they’d be home. Maybe they’d get back and their missing goat would have magically reappeared with the herd. Or maybe Ren would wake up and figure out this entire thing had been a really weird dream because he’d drunk too much milk before bed, and he hadn’t almost accused Doc of torturing people in a war he knew little-to-nothing about, and they weren’t being terrorized by some weird flying creature in the woods who had escalated to stealing livestock, and he hadn’t probably told Joe he was a monster, which was a fact of life he’d forgotten until just now and his mind was looking for more things to worry about. Yeah, Ren was pretty sure this was one of the more miserable days of his life. He was slowly convincing himself they were out here for no reason, and wouldn't even find the goat at the end of the trail, and if that happened he figured he'd make Doc drag him back home, because it certainly wouldn't be worth walking all the way back empty-handed, and-

Ren stumbled straight into Doc, and only then did he realize that Doc had stopped walking. Ren looked past him to the woods, searching for whatever obstacle had halted them, and couldn’t make out anything beyond the swaying trees and what he assumed to be a squirrel scampering off into the brush.

“Everything okay, Doc?” Ren asked.

“I think… I’ve been here before,” Doc answered thoughtfully, scanning around them. “Don’t see any trail markers though.”

“Been here before like we’ve been walking in circles, or been here before like some other time?”

Doc squinted at the branches overhead. “I can’t tell.”

Ren scanned the trees, searching for the marks Doc carved into the branches. He couldn’t find any. Granted, he often had trouble finding Doc’s trail markers, but even after several seconds of parsing through tree limbs, he came up with nothing.

“Well if we were walking in circles, we’d come across our own tracks at some point, right?” Ren asked. "We haven’t done that yet, so we’re still good… probably?”

“There is that,” Doc hummed. He reached up to mark their path, carving two small straight lines into the tree branch he pulled down. “Well, the path is marked now anyway.”

They ambled onward, Doc intermittently stopping to mark branches along their way, and to scan around with a puzzled look on his face. Ren tried to keep an eye out for more marks, but he thought the fact that the woods here didn’t look familiar to him was probably a good sign. Doc had probably wandered through here awhile ago. They weren’t getting hopelessly lost in the woods - even though getting hopelessly lost in the woods definitely made sense according to the invisible laws of their unfortunate luck.

“You know, a thought just occurred to me,” Ren said, grateful for the chance at some conversation that might lighten the mood a little. “My dude, would we even know if we ran into your old trail? I doubt there’s much difference between a mark you made today and one you made a few months ago.”

“Oh, well I use different markers,” Doc hummed absentmindedly, scanning the branches above him again. “I used two lines today, because there’s two of us out here. It's a good shorthand for a search party. If we got split up for some reason, I would switch to a single mark.”

“Huh. That’s… pretty smart, actually.”

“I can’t take all the credit for it,” Doc chuckled. “That’s an old tradition? Tradition sounds like the wrong word - but it’s how my people used to mark the difference between our herds. Each herd had an assigned mark, and if you were marking the path for someone to follow, you would make a tally for the number of people with you. Or an X if there were a lot of you. I think the biggest herd I ever marked for had ahm-" Doc did a quick count in his head. "-fifty of us, all together?"

"Oh. That's a lot."

"It was for a gathering I think. Can't really remember what for now. Probably a-" Doc said a word that Ren had never heard before, something that lacked any hard consonants for him to landmark himself on. If it hadn't been for where it fell in Doc's sentence, and the fact that he didn't immediately try to cover a sneeze, Ren might've mistaken it for, well, a sneeze.

"A gathering for…" Ren fought over trying to mimic what Doc said, and then decided he had no idea how the word even started. "A what?"

Doc repeated the word, and Ren thought it sounded something like ha-shay-frees , or maybe huh-shiff-is. Definitely it started with an H sound and there were some Ss in there.

"Am I supposed to know what that is?"

"I would be very surprised if you did."

"Oh, well good."

Doc shuffled some leaves aside, checking for hoofprints.

"Are you going to tell me what it means?"

"I haven't decided yet." Doc shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged onward. Ren hurried to walk beside him, and tried really hard not to be disappointed by that answer. He told himself he should respect it. Doc had just done a lot of talking about himself, and it'd all mostly sucked, and Ren hadn't taken it well. Ren thought he, very justifiably, hadn't taken it well, but the point still stood. Doc had talked more about himself this morning than Ren thought he ever had, and he was allowed to clam up a bit now.

Ren also thought it was incredibly unfair Doc chose to clam up about probably the most interesting thing he'd heard this morning.

"Well uhm, when you decide," Ren said gently, trying to be mindful and not like an overeager child begging for an interesting bedtime story, "I promise I won't yell at you this time."

Doc chuckled at him, and it rumbled in his chest like a purr. He gave Ren's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm not scared you'll yell at me. It's just ahm…" Doc hesitated, and then shrugged, "Well, I'm the only one left, you know. There's something sort of… sacred is the wrong word." Doc deliberated, sorting out his thoughts before deciding, "Some of these things aren't my place to talk about."

Not really sure how else to explain himself, Doc settled on another shrug. In fairness, Ren didn't really know how to respond, outside of maybe trying to reassure Doc he probably wasn't the last of whatever-he-was left. That felt a bit misplaced though, and probably wrong, so he kept it to himself.

“There’s not a good translation,” Doc said after a thoughtful moment, and Ren watched him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “It’s a bit like… ahm… it’s a social gathering with a function, I guess. Sort of like the harvest. If I had to name it, I might call it a blooming.”

“That sounds… pretty?”

Doc shrugged. “Maybe it is. I thought it was unimpressive at the time - like shearing the goats in the spring or something. It was just a thing we did.”

“But it was a social gathering?”

“Well, yeah. It’s a side-effect of so many people in one place. ‘Hello good morning, yes we survived the winter. Had three new births this year. Oh, you got married last fall? That’s nice.’ That sort of thing.” Doc smiled fondly, reminiscing. “I used to think it was all very crowded. Too many voices going on, you know. But meeting all the new babies was sweet, and there were competitions and things. The last year we had one, I won the ahm- ah… it’s not a cart pull. Though I probably would’ve won that too. We had these carts with a single yoke down the middle, and someone would stand on the yoke, and you would pick up the back and walk it in a circle.” Doc drew a circle in the air with his finger. “So to qualify you had to carry it in a circle with nothing on it. Then every time you made it around, they’d add more weight to the back. If you dropped the cart, or couldn’t pick it up anymore, you were eliminated.”

The mental image was kind of lost on Ren, but it definitely sounded like the kind of fun muscle game a bunch of bored farmers and herders would come up with. He’d done hay-throwing enough times during the Haltvale harvest to know Doc tended to be in a weight class all his own when it came to feats of strength. He thought Cleo might be able to give Doc a run for it, but that Ren could remember, she’d never participated. “Sounds like a blast. And you won?”

“Yeah, it was very surprising,” Doc snickered. “The guy I was up against was from a rival herd, and he was twice my size. Absolutely gigantic . And when he started the cart lift he was doing it one-handed to show off. When he went to pick up the cart for the last round, there were five people standing in it.”

Ren barked a laugh, and Doc smirked at him. “You don’t believe me?”

“There’s not a snowball's chance in heck you can lift five people.”

“Well not anymore. I only have one arm,” Doc said dismissively, as though picking up five people with two arms was a reasonable thing to do. “I could probably pick up two and a half though.”

"Doc, my brother, that’s definitely not how that works.”

They stepped into daylight, bright and sudden, and the two of them stopped in their tracks. Ren winced and shielded his eyes, trying to adjust to the change. They had stumbled into a clearing, wide and open, the stifling jaws of the forest yawning open. The dappled blue of the breaking cloudcover overhead allowed a few rays of sun to shine through, and with the rain still glittering on the wet grass, the view in front of them looked peaceful and picturesque, like they’d strolled onto a painting. Aliums, daisies, and tulips flashed bright colors through the greenery, and the breeze set them bobbing on their stems amidst scatterings of featherweed and switchgrass. Somewhere to their right, a robin started singing.

“Huh.” Doc looked around. “Yeah, I’ve been here before.”

“Well I haven’t,” Ren said, shedding his jacket so he could bask in the sunlight while he had it. He could already feel the warmth seeping into his clothes. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“This feels like a moon thing?” Doc asked the air around him.

“A moon thing?”

“Well, I have to entertain myself somehow when you two disappear up the mountain for a week.”

Doc turned and started trudging around the edge of the clearing, searching the branches for one of his signs. Ren let out a disgruntled huff. “You could come with us up the mountain. That would be entertaining.”

“And stay where? I’m too old for camping.”

“You’re not too- just stay in the cabin, my dude,” Ren laughed incredulously. “If you’re scared of it being cramped I’ll sleep outside. I won’t care by that point.”

Doc grimaced, and Ren got the feeling staying in the cabin was exactly the problem. Doc didn’t elaborate though, only muttering a disgruntled “I’ll pass,” before letting the conversation drop. Ren rolled his eyes and thought long and hard about starting another argument about it, before eventually deciding it wasn’t worth it. He’d rather focus on how pretty the scenery was while the sun was still out. The clouds overhead were moving pretty fast, and once or twice the sunlight threatened to blink out again.

“Ah! There,” Doc pulled down a branch from one of the trees lining the clearing, grinning triumphantly. “Told you.”

Sure enough, there was a quickly carved symbol, followed by a single tally mark.

“Oh, neat.”

“This is old,” Doc observed mostly to himself, letting the branch flick back into place. “This was back when I was still using herd markings.”

“You don’t use them anymore?”

Doc shrugged. “Not really much point. I thought maybe if someone found one and recognized it, they might know there was another one of us in the area? But that’s kind of silly. They’d know if someone from their herd was nearby, you know?”

Ren didn’t. Trying to attract other groups with a friendly symbol seemed like a logical thing to try, especially if all the herds were scattered to the four winds - and it sounded like they were. “Why not mark for your own herd? You could try and start a family reunion or something.”

Doc laughed in that hollow way people did when someone just told a particularly pessimistic joke. “No. My herd is gone. It’s a nice thought though.”

“Well… you don’t know that.”

Doc pointedly ignored him. “We should be able to see each other well enough here. If you want to continue your search along the treeline, I’ll see if I can’t find tracks in the grass. Stay within sight this time."

They split up, Doc wading out into the sea of flowers and grass while Ren clung to the edges of the field, sweeping around for any signs of goat life. He was undecided at this point on whether or not he actually expected to find any. Probably not, if he were being realistic, but the little optimistic part of him that told Doc his herd might still be out there somewhere was still alive in the back of Ren’s mind, and it also insisted if Porta had walked this far out into the woods, she might as well keep walking. This was definitely on the list of longest hikes he’d ever taken in search of a goat though. He thought maybe the only time he’d even come close, was that one time three springs ago when a storm took out half the fence, and three of the herd managed to make it to Haltvale. They’d lost a goat to zombies when it happened, and Doc had been inconsolable. Not loud and blubbering inconsolable: it was that kind of broken, quiet inconsolable, where he gazed longingly out into the pasture for hours on end, brooding about what he could’ve done better. Ren wasn’t looking forward to revisiting that side of Doc if they found Porta in anything less than perfect health.

A bit of white in the tree branches overhead caught Ren’s eye, and he smirked when he realized it was another of Doc’s marks. It was the same symbol as the one he’d just shown him: a stickman looking thing, missing its head. He’d have to ask Doc what it meant later. It was pretty smart of his people, coming up with a bunch of symbols for all the herds. Probably no different than naming a town or making a sign post, but Ren found it impressive they had a universal shorthand, something quick and simple enough to be carved on a branch and memorized by several different roaming groups.

Ren swept his gaze further into the woods and froze. Something between instinct and observation rooted him in place, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

I’m being watched .

It was like someone had stepped on his grave. The feeling of eyes on him was so intense and so sudden, so physical , they could’ve been hands on his shoulders, shoving him backwards. The worst part was, he got the distinct feeling he was watching back. He’d made eye contact with something out in the trees, something he couldn’t see, something that could definitely see him. He couldn't make it out though. It was all just dappled sunlight on the bending lines of tree trunks and branches, broken by leaves that could have been hunched figures, but were probably just leaves. Still, something in there was staring at him. Ren was starting to feel pinned to the ground again, frozen in place, and he thought this time when that thing swooped for him he'd yank out his ribbon even if he had to rip out his hair to do it. Then he'd run. He'd run and he'd keep running until he was far away and over the mountains, as fast as he could until he was racing the sun on its track across the sky and-

-and then Doc called for him and the freeze in Ren's joints unlocked itself. Ren bounded toward the open field, towards Doc's voice, and there was a rush in the leaves in the woods. Ren looked back over his shoulder, and he could see far back in the tree limbs where the dappled sunlight ended, the branches shuddering like something had leaped from them. Leaves spiraled towards the ground in a shower of green and gold, the entire top of the tree they fell from swaying on its trunk. He couldn’t see what had leaped from it, nor was anything swooping towards him. It’d simply flown away. 

Doc called for him again.

“I’m- I’m right here!” Ren answered breathlessly, scanning the meadow around him one last time. No swooping monsters, no vex. 

Ren spotted Doc near the center of the clearing, on his knees in the grass, and his heart dropped. That probably didn’t bode well. Ren picked his way over to him, the smell of wildflowers flooding his senses. The closer he got, the more he could make out shapes in the grass, the brilliant white of the goat fur against all the green and brown. Ren covered his nose, fearful of smelling blood. He took a bracing breath and prepared himself for the ordeal of consoling Doc and- and was pleasantly surprised when Porta lifted her head to look at him, tired but alive. She had a leggy little newborn curled up against her side, and it let out an annoyed bleat when Ren’s shadow blocked its sun.

“Hello little one,” Doc crooned, his voice thick with emotion. Relief, or maybe just the wonder of seeing a soul new to the world. It was kind of funny: all the sour conversation from earlier that morning, all the charged emotion, and it was a newborn baby goat that had Doc tearful. 

Ren chuckled. “You okay, Doc?”

“They’re so strong, Ren,” Doc told him, wiping at his eyes with the collar of his shirt. “Look at them! All bright and alive and happy even after the long walk and the rain. Let me look you over, little one. It’s okay.”

Doc picked up the little goat in his arms, careful not to move it too far from its mother. It let out a few disgruntled bleats at being manhandled, but settled down quickly when Doc released it back into the grass. 

“Big and strong, perfectly healthy. And you-” Doc ruffled a hand through Porta’s fur, and she blinked at him tiredly, “-congratulations momma! You’ve done so well!”

“Will they be alright, do you think?” Ren asked, kneeling down beside Doc in the grass. He didn’t dare touch either of the goats - it was probably the werewolf in him, but he found they weren’t quite as forgiving with him as they were with Doc. He didn’t want to chance getting kicked should Porta decide he was a threat. It’d be a long limp home.

“I think so,” Doc murmured, checking Porta over a little more earnestly. “Looks like we’re a couple hours out from the birth, and Little One here has definitely been nursing. She’s cold though, and Porta here looks pretty exhausted, poor nan. We need to get them back to the barn where they can recover in peace.”

“You think Porta can walk that far back?”

“Ahm… maybe?” Doc brushed the grass from his pants as he stood. Yellow specks of pollen from the flowers he’d knelt in smeared into the fabric of his clothes like captured sunlight. “We will definitely  have to carry Little One, though. You stay pretty warm, Ren. You think you can carry her?”

Ren sized up the little goat and shrugged.

“Good enough,” Doc hummed. “If you carry her over your shoulders, we can put your jacket over her, keep her a bit warmer.”

“It’s going to be a sauna walking home,” Ren said with a miserable smirk. “Alright, up you get-”

The little goat made much more fuss when Ren picked her up than when Doc had, which Ren found unsurprising. Porta didn’t try to fight him over it though. She just tiredly blinked and waited for her baby to settle down on Ren’s shoulders, reassured he wasn’t trying to harm her in any way. Ren figured the little thing would probably be asleep in a few minutes. Doc stepped up to Porta and nudged her, trying to coerce her to her feet. She ignored him.

“Come on, mamma,” Doc insisted. “Don’t you want some nice food and your herd? Vigenere has been worried sick about you, you know.”

“I don’t think she cares, Doc.”

Doc ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah… I don’t think so either.”

They stood awkwardly over Porta, watching as the tired goat settled further into the grass. Ren really couldn’t blame her. A long walk and then giving birth would take the wind out of most things. Even herd animals, which tended to plod on for as long as they thought they needed to, had to rest eventually.

“So what do we do?” Ren asked, rolling his shoulders beneath the weight of the kid. Its fur was coarse and itchy against the back of his neck. “I mean, I guess we just gotta wait until she decides to go, right?”

“Well, I worry about the time,” Doc hummed, looking up at the sky. “We’ve got a while until nightfall, but I’d rather get going sooner rather than later. If we get lost on the hike back we’ll need the time.”

“Do you think we’ll get lost on the way back?”

Doc shrugged. “Some crazy creature dragged one of our goats out here. I wouldn’t be surprised if they also messed with our markers.”

Ren… honestly hadn’t thought of that. He glanced out towards the woods where whatever-it-was had flown away. “Oh jeez…”

Doc put his hands on his hips and looked down at Porta, and it seemed to Ren like he was sizing her up. In spite of his nervousness, Ren chuckled.

“Doc… you can’t.”

“I think I can.”

“Sure, maybe you can lift her,” Ren said disparagingly, “but I doubt you’ll make it more than ten steps before you have to put her down again.”

“I will make you eat those words.”

“You’re going to throw your back out of spite, old man.”

“My back will be fine,” Doc tutted at him. “It’s the prosthetic I worry about.”

“What, you didn’t bring your premium goat-lifting prosthetic with you on the goat-finding expedition?”

Doc rolled up his sleeves and, when the fabric was out of the way, started inspecting his prosthetic. It was a pretty ingenious gadget, made all the more impressive knowing Doc had made it himself. Ren didn’t know much about how it worked really, outside of the fact that it was controlled by a bunch of harnesses around Doc’s shoulders, and he could lock up the arm and hand with a bunch of pins. There was redstone involved as well - minute amounts of it, since it was hard to completely seal and waterproof a prosthetic worn every day. Every time Doc was caught in the rain without a jacket on, the redstone bits threatened to wash away. The finickiness of it all was made up for by the extended range of motion, and the fact that Doc could actually use his fingers. They weren’t nearly as dextrous as a living hand, but they were a bit more nimble than a static hand or armhook.

“You know if you break that thing,” Ren pointed out, “you’re gonna be stuck in the house for weeks fixing it.”

“If I break it, I won’t be fixing it,” Doc responded, tightening one of his harness straps. He checked False’s sword on his hip as well, reassuring himself it wouldn’t come unbuckled. “I’m out of redstone. You and Gem will have to bargain with Etho for more, next full moon.”

“Doc, this is a bad idea. You know this is a bad idea, right?”

“Is anyone watching us?”

The question took Ren so far off-guard, it took him a few seconds to process it. “What?”

“Is anyone watching us?” Doc watched him earnestly, his hand hovering over his bracelet. Ren realized he was about to take it off. “You have a better sense for that kind of thing than I do.”

“I…” Ren blinked, bewildered. “For a goat , Doc?”

“You’re being very unhelpful right now.”

“No, no one’s watching us.”

“Thank you,” Doc said pleasantly. He snapped two of the beads off the bracelet and put them in his pocket. Ren held his breath, waiting for Doc to somehow shapeshift; gain a few inches in height maybe, or have eyes that flashed a new and interesting color. He even spared a glance at Doc’s shadow, like he expected something about it to warp out of shape. None of those things happened, though. Instead, Doc winced like he just became aware of a migraine, shook his head, and picked up Porta with trivial ease. His prosthetic creaked and groaned in protest, but he managed to wrangle the goat onto his shoulders. Ren gaped at him, at the goat nearly twice his size blinking in quiet bewilderment on Doc's back. Doc winked.

"Told you I could carry her," he said smugly.

"Doc, you're insane .”

Doc shrugged, and Porta bobbed up and down once on his shoulders. “Probably.”

He turned and started walking, and it was a solid beat before Ren could gather himself together enough to follow. “I don’t know if I’m impressed you can actually do that, or if I’m insulted.”

“Insulted?”

“Yeah! We have a big long argument about why you won’t tell me what the heck you are,” Ren scolded him, “but one of your goats- ”

“Oh please, Ren,” Doc rolled his eyes, but he was grinning good-naturedly. “You think I would hesitate for a second if something happened to you, and you needed me to carry you home?”

“I don’t think you would,” Ren laughed back at him. “I think you’d take one look at me and tell me to suck it up.”

“Well most times you should!”

“I cannot believe this. I rank lower than the goats to you, don’t I?”

“Well the goats can’t take care of themselves. You can!”

“Are you hearing this shit, Alberti?”

“ Alberti? Who the heck is Alberti?”

“The little one on my back! Her name is Alberti. I've decided just now.”

“Ahm, no , her name is not Alberti. She’s going to be Caesar.”

“ Caesar?! My dude, that’s a terrible goat name.”

“Bro, no it’s not. She is a conqueror and her name is Caesar.”

“It’s not even a girl’s name!”

“Oh, and Alberti is?”

They argued and they laughed, and they walked through the woods. The rain finally stopped completely, and the only water that dappled their shoulders was whatever shook from the trees with the wind. They made quick work of the return trip, retracing Doc’s trail markers on the scattered overhead branches. When they came to the river they breathed a sigh of relief knowing none of the signs had been tampered with. They crossed the water carefully, and when their conversation fell silent, Doc took to whistling harvest songs. Most of them Ren knew, and the ones he didn’t, he didn’t ask about. When they finally broke from the woods and the Octagon stretched before them, Ren breathed a sigh of relief. The sun committed fully to emerging from the clouds, scuttling away the gray in favor of white and blue. The breeze was warm with the afternoon heat, and Gem ran to meet them at the back gate.

She told them they should name the little goat Cipher. Ren and Doc agreed.

Chapter Text

Wakefulness came to Ren in fading bursts, waves of sensation clouded by his quiet longing to return to sleep. He caught the sound of clattering in the kitchen, someone awake in the thin hours of the morning - probably Doc - starting breakfast for the rest of the house. Ren wrinkled his nose at the bickering cacophony of birds outside his window, the growing number of their song pestering him with the knowledge that Gem, too, was trying to sleep in, and her unbound magic meant increasing flocks of birds would be gossiping on the roof with every passing minute. He smelled food, hair untied for sleep allowing his own boundless senses to bring him a sharp relief of what Doc was making for breakfast. He could smell the downy fluff of biscuits rising in the oven, which should be the color brown, but were closer to white and yellow like the butter and flour they were made with. There was the low thick simmer of homemade sausage gravy, a heavy smell that cloyed the back of Ren’s mouth, sweetened by the tang of jam from a freshly opened jar and haloed by the wafting damp of the cellar that Doc had pulled the jar from. The tea kettle bubbled, nearing its shrieking boil, and the faintest tin-whistle shrill was beginning to rake at the edges of its spout.

Still determined to stay asleep for as long as possible, Ren found himself dreaming. He walked down an impossibly long banquet hall hosted by faceless people, all holding trays of breakfast foods. They twittered in a language he didn’t understand, but his dreaming mind made up words anyway. He was content to fade back into sleep, surrounded by the floating nonsense of his muddled senses - until his stomach let out a hungry growl, kicking him firmly into wakefulness.

“Breakfast is ready!” Doc called, as if on cue.

Ren groaned. His stomach growled again, louder this time.

Begrudgingly, Ren committed to starting the day. He quietly lamented the fact that Doc insisted on being awake so dang early in the morning, even if that early morning came with the promise of food. Ren yawned and stretched, wringing out the stiffness from his long hike the day before. He put on a shirt that was reasonably unwrinkled, clipped his suspenders onto some jeans, and emerged from his room, rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand and clutching his ribbon in the other.

“Doc, my brother,” Ren mumbled tiredly as he slid into his seat at the table, “the roosters aren’t even up yet.”

Doc glanced out the open window, where the colors of the sunrise had already faded from the sky, defining the silhouettes of the mountains from the clouds behind them. “It’s not that early.”

“You hear that? The low rumbling sound?”

Doc tilted his head to the side curiously. “Ahm… no?”

“Well I can,” Ren yawned. “Pretty sure the sun’s still snoring, my dude.”

Doc chuckled, shaking his head, and pulled the finished biscuits from the oven. He threw two onto a plate with some gravy and slid it across the table to Ren. Ren poured himself a cup of tea and blew the rising steam off a forkful of biscuits and gravy. Gem’s door creaked open, and she finished tying her hair up in a loose ponytail as she stumbled into the kitchen. She pulled her chair next to Ren’s, grabbed his ribbon off the table and a handful of his hair. Ren tilted his head closer to her hands, watching as the steam curled lazily away from his plate.

“Does my hair look that bad this morning?”

Gem ran her fingers through his hair, combing out some of the tangles before sectioning it off into pieces. “I couldn’t get my braid to turn out right.”

“So you’re going to braid my hair badly instead?”

She yanked a little too hard on a section of hair near the base of his neck, and Ren grimaced. “I’m practicing,” Gem informed him matter-of-factly, weaving a ribbon into his braid. “Just pretend we’re trying out options before the Harvest Festival.”

“I thought you were putting flowers in my hair for the harvest?”

“Well, yeah, of course.” Ren couldn’t see Gem’s face, but there was an obvious smile in her voice. “I’m not about to go out picking flowers just for practice, though.”

Gem paused about halfway through her work, decided it wasn’t good enough, and shook the braid out again. Ren passed his fingers through his hair a few times before letting her get back to work. This time she only sectioned off the top part of his hair, opting to weave the ribbons in but leave half of his hair down. The odd half-up, half-down style made his skin prickle, the binding in the ribbons having trouble taking effect. Ren wrinkled his nose uncomfortably and tried to focus on eating. At least the magic didn’t mess with his sense of taste.

“So what all needs done today?” Gem asked, pausing to take a few bites of her breakfast before getting back to braiding. She incorporated a few more sections of hair from what she’d left down, adding in a third ribbon as she did so. Ren felt his sense of smell blunten, and he sneezed.

“Well, you’ll be happy to know I’ve already fed and watered everyone, and done a round with the kids,” Doc informed them pleasantly, dishing himself a hearty portion for breakfast and settling with a clatter and a huff at the table. “No one is missing, no one is injured, and Cypher is playing king-of-the-hill with the rest of the little ones, like a good little goat.”

Ren glanced out the window at the morning sky. He raised an eyebrow at Doc. “Question, my dude.”

“You’re handing out a lot of those this morning,” Doc observed.

“They’re a gift,” Gem agreed.

"Well when you're doing questionable things at the crack of dawn, I have questions,” Ren insisted, trying to stay on-topic.

"Breakfast isn't questionable,” Doc hummed, but it seemed clear he already knew where this conversation was going.

"What did we say were the house rules when there was a vex-thing in the neighborhood?" Ren asked, propping his head in his hand and raising an eyebrow. "Something about not being alone after dark?"

Doc paused with a fork full of gravy halfway to his mouth. He searched the air in front of him for a suitable excuse, and couldn't seem to find one.

"This is two mornings in a row, my brother."

"Have you been sleeping okay?" Gem asked, finishing what had turned into a rather plain braid in Ren's hair and turning her attention to Doc.

"Have you been sleeping at all?" Ren challenged.

"I sleep," Doc frowned, then sputtered indignantly when only skeptical silence answered him. "What? I do! I sleep every night!"

"That's exactly what someone who doesn't sleep every night would say," Gem smirked.

"Guys-"

"Now, listen Doc," Ren reached a hand out to cover Doc's, his voice parroting the tone Doc used whenever he tried to be reassuring, "I get it man, you're nervous, what with that big scary vex-something running around-"

Doc yanked his hand away from Ren's, scowling. "Gods you two-!"

"But really Doc," Gem joined in past a barely contained grin, "we'll protect you. You don't have to lose any sleep over it."

Doc threw his hands up in annoyance. "I try to do something nice, get the chores done so you two can enjoy your day, make you breakfast-”

Whatever he said next was drowned out by Ren and Gem’s laughter. Doc crossed his arms, feigning scorn, but there was a smirk tugging on the edge of his mouth that was undeniable. Ren shoveled a few more bites of his breakfast into his mouth, and Gem caught her breath before saying, “Seriously though Doc-”

“I know,” Doc interrupted her.

“-if you get carried away by something-”

“I know.”

“On the bright side, if you are having trouble sleeping,” Ren chimed in, “I hear vex-things are really good at knocking you out cold.”

Doc opened his mouth to quip back, when a noise outside cut him off. All three of them fell silent as they listened. Ren decided it sounded like a voice, and he strained to recognize it while Doc got to his feet. Gem shoveled half a biscuit into her mouth and glanced up towards the roof, trying to pinpoint the noise.

Something slammed into the front door so hard False’s sword fell off its hook on the wall, along with one of the picture frames in the hallway. Ren yelped in surprise. Gem pressed herself back against the table, like she could find a way to hide inside it. The door flew open with a loud bang, smacking the wall so hard it threatened to rebound closed again, if it weren’t for the flurry of flailing limbs and wings already scrambling through the open doorway. Someone more silhouette than form took three quick steps into the house. Ren froze, terrified at first that the monster that had attacked him had come swooping in - and then a fresh wave of fear, when he recognized the gray-blue of vex skin.

Scar stuttered, cartwheeling through syllables that sounded stuck between angry and incredulous, before finally he settled on yelling, “You!”

Ren gaped. Adrenaline and fear were a pair of trapped birds fluttering around in his chest, and for a brief, terrible moment, Ren thought this was it. Something had happened, and Joe had told the vex about him, and Scar was here to do something about it. Or else some other thing had gone wrong, some small slip. Something, something, and-

“What are you three doing in here?!” Scar yelled, his flailing wings knocking over a - thankfully unlit - lantern they kept on a table by the front door. “You’re supposed to be outside with the goats! That’s where you always are!”

Gem stammered half a word, Ren’s only reminder he wasn’t alone in the room, cornered by a screaming vex. Then Doc rose in front of him like a dark tower, placing himself between Scar and the rest of the room.

“Scar, what are you doing in my house?” Doc growled, and Ren thought that was probably one of the weirder questions to be asking at this current moment in time. If a vex ever busted down Ren's door, he would do everything in his power to become as small and non-threatening as possible. Doc, however, was doing his best impression of a vengeful mother bear stepping between a startled dog-walker and her cubs.

“What-what--! What am I doing--? What are you doing?!” Scar demanded, and Ren thought he was starting to sound less angry, and more frantic. “I thought you guys were dead! What the heck?!”

It was about then that two more people spilled in through the front door, and Ren was grateful neither of them were sporting wings.

“Oh thank heavens!” Hypno gasped, shouldering past Scar to overtake Doc in a hug. “You’re alive! Oh my gods you’re alive.”

Doc stumbled back a step in surprise, his protectiveness melting away like a candle beneath dragon’s fire. He shot Ren and Gem a questioning sidelong glance, as if they knew what could possibly be going on. When neither of them could give an explanation, Doc returned Hypno’s hug and stammered, “Ahm… yeah we’re… fine? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Scar.” xB, by far the calmest of everyone in the room, gently tapped the vex on the shoulder. “Go find Cub. He’s probably still searching the woods.”

“What? But I want to know what’s going on!” Scar snapped, then immediately rolled his eyes. “You guys all stay together, and don’t go anywhere until I get back!”

Scar spun on his heel and dove out the door, taking flight as soon as his skin met sunlight. xB let out a sigh, a tenseness Ren hadn’t noticed before vanishing from his shoulders. He now noticed that xB held a bow in one hand, strung and ready, with a bristling of arrows in a quiver at his hip. Ren swallowed nervously.

“Well, that’s a few seconds of peace, at least," xB sighed, leaning on his bow like a walking stick.

“Great, awesome.” Gem stood, gripping her teacup in her hands, if for no other reason than to give herself something to hold onto. “Is anybody going to explain why the heck Scar just about knocked our door off its hinges?”

xB and Hypno exchanged a glance.

As it turned out, the answer to “why the heck Scar just about knocked our door off its hinges” was as unsettling as it was long.

It started at around three in the morning when Tenley, the new bakery owner, heard a clatter on his roof. Concerned for his family's safety, and worried that perhaps the storm that had barreled through had done something to the gutters, he grabbed up his lantern and went outside to investigate. He found nothing. Or at least, he thought he found nothing. As he went to return to the safety of his home, his boot crunched down on something in the grass, shattering it. As best he could tell, it had been a bottle of some kind. He had no idea what had been inside it, but it smelled vaguely of root vegetables, metal, and some other third thing that he couldn’t place - a meaty, vaguely sweet smell that left a bad taste in his mouth and made his skin crawl. He went back to bed.

 An hour or two later, Stacen was up for the fourth time with her newborn, doing her best to sooth the child. She stood on the back porch tiredly, child in one arm and rejected baby bottle in the other, hoping the sound of crickets and rushing wind might help the little one back to sleep. A trail of water rained down out of a clear, star-filled sky, sprinkling first the top of Stacen’s head, then casting a few scattered drops onto the roof above her. There was a thud and a rattle, and a pair of smooth stones tumbled off her roof and onto the porch. Stacen put down the bottle, grabbed the poker from the fireplace, and patrolled around her house, hoping to scare away a possible revisit from “the egg phantom” - or rather, the teenage idiots she knew had to be the egg phantom. There were no bawdy teenagers on her property. No one was stealing her eggs or throwing rocks at her roof. Puzzled, but finding the walk had put her fussy baby to sleep, Stacen retired back into the house. She kept the poker by the foot of her bed, just in case.

Around five in the morning, early enough for the birds to wake but not quite early enough for the sky to brighten, the tailor’s kid woke up after a sleepover at a friend’s house, which they totally hadn’t snuck out of the house for - don’t tell their parents. They donned their coat, stole a piece of stale bread from the counter, and trudged across the village to make it home before their parents woke for morning chores. When they came to the Town Square, they noticed a dark line of something drawn across the cobblestones. When they moved to step over it, it lit like hot coals, flooding the ground with pulsing red light. The kid first flinched away from it, rightly scared of something that was probably magic. Then curiosity filled the void that harm would've taken, if any harm had come from the dull glow. The tailor's kid squatted to get a better look at the line, and experimentally dipped a finger into the dry, chalky substance.

The tailor's kid learned two valuable things very quickly. The first was that this was redstone, and it was feared for a reason. The second was that the reason had less to do with the fact it was magic, and more to do with the fact that it started to burn once it had the chance to bind to the oils in someone's skin.

False awoke to the sound of wailing. She had fallen asleep in the Town Hall, pouring over the books shelved in its old south transept. Their access was restricted to the public for the most part; it was a fun game for some of the young children in town to see how far into the room they could get before a watchful adult shooed them away again. As soon as her tired mind registered the noise, she sprang to her feet, went tumbling over a footstool she had forgotten she pulled out the night before to reach the higher shelves, and cascaded out the door to investigate the commotion. By the time she'd figured out what was happening with the tailor's kid, a dozen other townsfolk were peering out their doors and between their shutters, drawn to the fuss below by concern and idle curiosity. False had the Town Square cordoned off, made sure the tailor's kid washed all the redstone off their hands, and sent a bystander off to fetch the vex.

Ever since Ren was attacked, the vex had taken to shaking down random townsfolk for their spare rooms and attics to roost in town, watchful for any sign of the monster from the woods, so they were pretty quick at hand when False sent them up into the sky to get a better view of what had happened. By dawn, the vex were flying with haste across the valley. They stopped first at Horse Head Farms, catching Hypno as he let the cows out for their morning graze. They were hale and healthy, and xB had just finished breakfast, but when asked when they'd last visited the folks at the Octagon, they could only admit they hadn’t checked in for a few days. That brought them to Gem, Ren, and Doc, sitting around the table, an ominously still house beside an empty field where normally there would be the bustle of morning chores and bawdy goats, to Cub flying off into the woods to check for signs of a struggle, and to Scar diving through the front door, fully expecting monster-made carnage on the other side. 

Hypno told them he'd always known they'd be fine, which Ren found impossible to believe, given how he’d pounced on Doc when he burst in the door. xB joked dryly that it wouldn't do to start a morning identifying corpses. It was a grim joke. Doc was the only one who laughed.

Chapter Text

Fear is a funny thing. Ren found himself measuring it, standing in the steepled bell tower of the town hall, looking down at the square below. He knew many flavors of fear; he was generally a fearful person. He wasn’t like Doc who, upon descending the belltower to allow Ren and Gem the chance to climb it, stayed tight-lipped and stoic in the face of adversity. Nor was he like False who, aside from a new and infrequent stutter, commanded herself and the people around her with firm assurance. Ren could hear her voice bouncing up across the cobblestones below, telling townsfolk to stand back from the line of redstone painting the square, directing people to look out for any more of the faintly glowing material that may be sprinkled around town. Ren swallowed hard and clutched the banister, leaning over the edge slightly further to get a better look. Gem leaned with him.

The flavor of fear Ren was feeling now was incredibly different from the fear of walking through the woods with Doc the day before or the panic he felt when he'd been attacked by the vex-thing. The fear he'd felt in the woods had been creeping and tense, the kind that set a shiver in his limbs and an ache in his jaw. When he'd been attacked, it had been more like a livewire, a lightning strike. It froze him, released him, and vanished. This, he decided, was the kind of fear that filled you up like a trickle of cold water drunk too fast. His mind could think and his limbs could move, but he was filled with a dread that lay cool and still just a few layers beneath his skin, waiting for a reason to burst into something more emotive and catastrophic. He wasn’t holding himself together because he willed it, but because he was standing on the knife’s edge of not being able to, and nothing had pushed him over. Yet. The morning was still young.

“This is insane,” Gem’s voice shivered, and she and Ren pressed a little closer together, trying to convince themselves they were cold. They stared at the town square like they were waiting for it to blink. It nearly could.

Painted in a slurry of redstone dust was a massive eye, the fountain in the center serving as its wide and staring pupil. From the top of the belltower, in the middle of the day, the redstone lost its ominous glow. Instead, the color turned Ren’s imagination to thoughts of blood, spilled in wide and pooling arcs like the spatter from a sweeping blade. The two great curves of the eye were dusted with crude eyelashes, and the nearly perfect circle of an iris was laid out in smooth river stones. On the surrounding city rooftops, written in blunt letters made of more river stones, was a single simple phrase repeated over and over.

I’m watching you.

Looking down at the eye in the square, Ren was reminded of the locked-limb feeling of being watched in the woods. The longer he stared back at the massive, unyielding gaze, the more he felt stuck in place. He worried that if he moved, it would blink.

“Doc was right,” Ren whispered, like he was scared he’d be overheard. “We shouldn’t have come up here.”

“Yeah it’s… it’s freaky. I’m a little freaked.”

Gem sounded more than a little freaked. Ren opted not to point that out.

“It’s a shame though,” Gem swallowed thickly, and tried to force some pleasantness into her voice. “Wasn’t Doc just saying he needed redstone?”

“Too bad everyone here thinks it's evil,” Ren laughed half-heartedly.

“I mean, they’re not wrong, exactly,” Gem hummed. “Anything that glows red, burns when you touch it, and does weird magic stuff has evil vibes.”

Ren shrugged. His only knowledge of redstone started and stopped at the trinkets Doc made to keep them hidden. It was a bit too precious of a resource for them to experiment with. He didn’t even really know where it came from, besides the vague idea that if it was stone turned to dust, it probably came out of the ground somewhere.

“Well,” Gem let out a bracing sigh, “this is one staring contest we can’t win. Let’s go down and see if they need help cleaning things up.”

She tugged him along after her, and Ren yielded, casting one last glance at the eye below before moving on. They descended into the Town Hall, eerily empty of people, given most folks were currently taking in the spectacle outside. Light streamed in through the stained glass windows, painting the stone brick floor in vibrant kaleidoscope patterns. It was bright enough outside that none of the high chandeliers were lit, and the ceiling looked dark and distant, stained by years of candle smoke. The walls were thick, blocking out the noise of the crowd Ren knew was outside.

While they crossed the building, he felt incredibly alone, swallowed up by the stones and glass around him. They opened the door to the outside world and emerged blinking into bright sunlight, and the illusion of solitude abruptly ended.

“How’s the water coming?” False called to a bucket brigade running to the nearest well. Freshly pumped water was being passed down the team of people, hand over hand until it could be splashed across the cobblestones. A few folks armed with brooms swept the slurry of redstone dust and muddy water into gutters surrounding the fountain, where it disappeared into the overflow cistern below. They worked their way slowly around the perimeter of the eye, making sure no dust was left between cracks or cobblestones to burn someone later. Ren found Doc and stood beside him, trying not to get in the way of the clean up.

"So what do you think?" Ren asked him quietly. "Some kind of spell?"

"Hmm?" Doc blinked, like Ren had jarred him from his thoughts. He was playing with his bracelet absentmindedly. Ren noticed one of the beads was missing. "Did you say something?"

Ren cast a meaningful glance down at Doc's wrist. Doc reached a hand into his pocket and snapped the missing bead back in place. 

"I was just checking something," Doc explained, giving Ren's raised eyebrow the vaguest answer possible.

"I asked what you thought the redstone was, my dude."

"Oh, ahm… mostly I just think it's a well drawn eye. Better than I could do. The overhead view probably helped."

"But is it a spell, or…?"

"What? No, definitely not," Doc snorted, like the question was ridiculous. "It takes more than a few lines of redstone to make a spell. And they would've ruined it with all the rocks anyway."

"I didn't know you knew so much about redstone, Doc."

Both Ren and Doc startled as False walked up behind them, dust-stained broom in hand. Ren's stomach gave a nervous twist. Before he could begin to think of an excuse, Doc brought a hand to his shoulder, rubbing where his prosthetic met his arm, and flashed False a dry sort of smile.

"I have, ahm… disarmed a few redstone traps in my day," Doc said simply.

Ren blinked, confused. It took him longer than it should have to realize Doc was lying. He couldn't even really place how he knew; it was just something about the tone of his voice, how disjointed the words sounded. 

"Oh… oh ," False gasped, eyes widening as realization hit. "Jeez Doc, do you need to leave? You can go wait in Town Hall until we've got this cleaned up-"

She was so honestly concerned, and Ren felt bad. He wasn't even the one who'd lied, and he felt bad. If Doc was bothered by the exchange, he hid it well.

"No, thank you False. I'm okay. Ahm... besides, it helps me to keep an eye on things." Doc smiled sincerely at her, wearily, like just the short conversation was exhausting. Another lie, done with such frightening grace, Ren almost thought it was genuine. False patted Doc reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Well, don't put yourself out if you don't have to. Those memories come back when you least expect them to, you know.” Her voice was quiet and stern, like she was speaking from experience. “If you feel up to it later though, I’d love to have your advice on this.”

Doc nodded. False strode away, directing some water buckets to more redstone on the other side of the square.

“ Doc,” Ren started, but stopped when Doc put a finger to his lips. When he was sure Ren wasn’t going to say anything more, Doc waved for him to follow.

“I’ll give you a boost up,” Doc instructed, “and we can get these rocks cleared off some of these roofs.”

With no idea what else to do except feel conflicted and nervous, Ren did as he was told.

Cleaning up the Town Square and the roofs surrounding it turned into a long morning of work, peppered by nervous laughter and the broken-record of gossip. “Can you believe it?” and “That’s one way to start a morning!” and “A monster in Haltvale… there’s really a monster in Haltvale…” and every variation uttered their way past each mouth in town. That was how polite scared people processed these things. They all gossipped amongst themselves, sharing news like their individual opinions and experiences were wholly new and important to everyone else around them.

People mentioned what they were doing when they found out something was wrong, what they saw and heard, who they thought was to blame. Ren thought it was funny how normal it all sounded. He tossed rocks off the tavern roof with the tavern keeper's niece and she told him about how she’d had a dream she could hear falling rocks. Must have been the monster. The smith’s wife helped him haul a load of river stones to a pile of rocks slowly accumulating by the main road, and she talked about how she thought she’d heard wings. Did he remember what the wings sounded like, when he’d been attacked? Maybe it was the same creature. Ren could only quietly nod along as people talked, and processed, and tried to retain some normalcy.

It all reminded him of the weather, or people talking about the weather. It was like when a big storm rushed through the valley; someone remembered hail while someone else remembered the rain or the wind. It was like walking outside to see the neighbor’s roof collapsed, and having a relative inform you there’d been a crash around noon no one else had heard. It was the whole community reminding itself it wasn’t dealing with this alone, that there were a hundred other people who had all witnessed and felt the same thing. It was comforting, and it was deceptively mundane. A monster passing through Haltvale was measured on the town’s calamity scale up there with a flood or a hailstorm. It was a force of nature, and aside from pouncing on Ren, it hadn’t even hurt anyone yet. What calamity would it become if it did anything worse?

Ren clambered down from the last roof and turned to grab the wheelbarrow he’d tossed the stones into. He stopped short when Joe picked up the handles for him. Joe beamed, green glasses flashing in the sunlight.

“Howdy Ren. Good to see ya’ll made it into town okay.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Ren stammered. He glanced across the square, looking for an excuse to do anything that wasn’t helping Joe. Their last conversation was still looming between them, or it loomed over Ren at least. Doc, False, Cleo, and the vex were all huddled by the fountain, talking. Gem was playing with some village kids while their parents got to belatedly opening shops, tickling them with a pair of long goose feathers she’d picked up somewhere. Ren scowled nervously, and with no good excuse to leave, walked quietly beside Joe. The two made their way to the now sizable rock pile.

Joe cleared his throat. “Just to save you the bad news from someone a little less pleasant… you should know you’re probably not going home tonight.”

“What?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not either,” Joe laughed, as he flashed Ren a smile that was more grimace than grin. “That’s what Cleo’s talking to False about now. They think maybe the critter that did all this will attack people.”

Joe dumped the wheelbarrow out at the rock pile. It was honestly impressive, what one monster had managed to do overnight. The rock pile was almost knee high, and some of the rocks used to write were bigger than Ren’s fists. It would’ve taken several trips to carry all of this, unless the monster was an incredibly strong flyer.

“Why would it attack people?” Ren asked quietly. “I mean, if it wanted to, it would’ve by  now, right?”

“Well, it already did attack you,” Joe pointed out. He grabbed a few loose stones from the bottom of the wheelbarrow and tossed them. “False seems pretty convinced this is an escalation. Get everyone scared and then do something worse.”

Ren frowned. “But scaring everyone just means we’ll be more alert, right?”

Joe tilted his head questioningly, and Ren felt like he’d said something foolish. Not because Joe was being judgemental, but because he knew he didn’t make the best decisions when he was scared, so he couldn’t imagine anyone else did. Right now, for instance, the only thing he wanted to do was run home and hide under his bed covers and pretend he didn’t have any problems to worry about. Of course, there was the issue that running home right now would mean being alone on a long path surrounded by woods, where anything could ambush him if it wanted to.

Ren swallowed nervously.

“Yeah, Cleo’s not happy about it either.”

As if on cue, Cleo’s voice suddenly cut across the square, loud and angry. She was a bit muffled by distance, but Ren caught a snippet of “absolutely not'' and “I have things to get on with!” followed by the loud cackling of a vex, like her complaints were somehow funny. Joe’s whole body grimaced, from the look on his face and the hand he ran through his hair to the way his posture slumped tiredly.

“Joe, dude, you think maybe you should be over there leveling heads?” Ren asked with a nervous laugh.

“Bold of you to assume I’m the rational one out of the two of us,” Joe smiled dryly. “Besides, it’s Cleo’s tannery. I just help where I can - which includes crashing with her in the Town Hall for the night, probably.”

Chapter Text

Crashing in the Town Hall was exactly what Joe and Cleo ended up doing, alongside a dozen other families the community thought would be in danger on the outskirts of town, Horsehead Farms and the Octagon included. The Town Hall became a claustrophobic cacophony of disgruntled parents and restless children, ill equipped to shelter so many displaced people but still valiantly trying with what little it had. The houses bordering the Town Hall came together to cook dinner for everyone. People helped move blankets and bedding into the main foyer. Toys and puzzles were gathered up for the children to borrow and entertain themselves with. The desk beside the entry doors where they cataloged food storages had been dragged into the closed library room, making space for one family to set up a sleeping space. Hypno and xB tied some hammocks between the two support columns that flanked the main aisle of the building, and people took turns flopping out of them like it was a game. Most families picked a wall to nest against, regaling their children with dreams of camping, and blanket forts, and anything to make the inconvenience more pleasant.

Ren and Gem picked a space beneath one of the massive stained-glass windows and did their best to make the space liveable. They hadn’t had the chance to return to the Octagon, so they relied on a pair of borrowed blankets and pillows. The technicolor stained glass windows had darkened with the sky, and now the images were lit by candle and lantern light, their colors cast outward from the flickering heart of the building instead of inward with the sun. There was a baby crying on the far side of the room, one of many noises insulated by thick stone walls. Even beneath the window, Ren found himself deaf to the outside world. It was loud and busy and he had never wished for his own bed on their quiet ranch so much in his life. He never realized how truly isolated the Octagon was until just now, sitting with his back against the cold stone wall, his thoughts drowned out by dozens of people chattering. 

Gem sighed and sprawled out on the blanket they'd laid on the floor. "Well, there's no way I'm going to sleep tonight."

Ren cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm starting to figure out why it's called peace and quiet."

Gem chuckled. She was twirling the feather in her hand that she'd picked up earlier, eyeing it quietly and glancing sideways at her hair like she wished she could braid it in. Now that he was closer to it, Ren didn't think it was a goose feather. The warm brown color and patterning didn't quite match, or at least he thought it didn't. He wasn't an expert on birds. 

"You're going to give yourself lice," Ren teased her half-heartedly.

"Umm, no, I'm not."

"Bird lice." Ren nodded. "Twice as bad as cooties."

"Says the man who gets fleas once a month."

"I don't get fleas!" Ren snapped louder then he'd intended to. A pair of kids who'd been wrestling nearby stopped to stare at him with wide eyes. Ren grimaced. "She's kidding."

Gem put a hand beside her mouth, pretending to hide her words from Ren as she whispered loudly: "They're super contagious."

"Gem!"

"Do you feel itchy yet?" She asked, exaggeratedly scratching her arm.

The kids scrambled across the room to their parents, scratching at invisible itches and yelling about bugs. Gem rolled on the floor cackling. Ren groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"I hate you so much ," he growled past a rueful smirk.

"Your life would be boring without me," Gem giggled.

The door to the Town Hall creaked open and Cleo stooped slightly to lumber through the doorway, a pair of downy quilts bundled under each arm. Joe shadowed her, a bag of necessities slung over his shoulder. The pair of them looked around the hall, searching for a place to rest. Just about every wall space was full and all the hammocks set up were taken. Ren noticed no one would make eye contact with them, wary of inviting the pair to find a place to hunker down nearby. Ren licked his lips nervously. Well, Joe hadn’t done him any harm yet.

Ren put on his brightest smile and waved. “Joe! Cleo! Over here guys!”

Gem waved as well, motioning them over. A noticeable tenseness sunk out of Joe’s shoulders, and the pair lumbered over. Ren felt a prickle on his skin; people in the hall were watching him, probably wondering what in the world he was doing. Didn’t he know these two weren’t welcome? He pointedly ignored the feeling, opting instead to stand and start making some room. Gem gave a long, cat-like stretch before doing the same.

“You sure there’s enough room for all of us here?” Joe asked nervously, though he set his bag down against the wall regardless.

“Just don’t sleep by Doc, whenever he shows up,” Gem said with a mischievous smirk. “He fights in his sleep.”

“Of course he does,” Cleo snorted. “And I suppose Ren snores?”

“Right, because certainly no one in our household snores,” Joe chuckled. He collected the blanket they had down and replaced it with the thicker quilt. It would do a better job of taking some of the cold out of sleeping on the floor.

“I don’t snore,” Cleo frowned.

“She snores,” Joe reassured them, earning himself an overzealous slap on the shoulder from Cleo. The two of them laughed over it though. They all settled in, each picking different corners of the quilt to sit on, trying their best to ignore the lack of privacy in the crowded space. The chatter made itself loud in Ren’s ears again, since he had nothing to do other than listen.

“Sooo,” Gem hummed awkwardly, drawing out the word while she tried to find a good conversation topic, “what took you guys so long to get here?”

“Uh, well--” Joe glanced at Cleo.

“I had to visit the graveyard,” Cleo said matter-of-factly, digging through the sack Joe had brought in. She pulled out a brush, laid it in her lap, and loosed the black ribbon from her hair. She tied it around her wrist for safe-keeping and got to work brushing, long wavy strands of her red-orange hair cascading down her shoulders. With every long stroke, its color flickered like polished bronze in guttering candle light. Ren hadn’t realized how long her hair was. It fell nearly all the way to her waist, thick like a lion’s made and unkempt even after several passes of the hairbrush. No wonder she kept it tied back all the time.

“Oh! Who were you visiting? If you don’t mind me asking,” Gem said politely.

“I do mind, actually.” The edge in Cleo’s voice threatened to cut if pressed any further. Ren and Gem exchanged a glance and let the subject drop. 

“Do you guys have family buried out there?” Joe asked, picking nervously at a corner of the blanket where a seam was starting to come loose. 

“No,” Ren and Gem answered in unison, then grimaced in unison.

“Right.”

Joe resumed picking at the loose stitching on the quilt. The four of them fell awkwardly silent again, and Ren flashed Gem a nervous sort of smile. She shrugged in reply and sprawled out across the blanket, content to at least pretend she was going to sleep. Ren set his back against the wall and looked up, searching for something to keep himself busy with, listening to the rhythmic sound of Cleo brushing her hair.

“You know,” Ren said after a moment of silence, “I always wondered why they put stained glass windows in here.”

Joe shifted beside him, looking up at the window.

“It seems a bit church-y for a town hall," Ren observed.

Cleo giggled like he'd said something funny. "That's because it used to be a church, Ren."

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” Ren said, feeling his ears heat up with embarrassment. 

Gem giggled into her hand and elbowed him lightly. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know either. I kinda figured, though.”

Ren rolled his eyes and leaned to get a better look at the windows, studying the scenes etched into the glass. The overwhelming majority of them were cityscapes. The two long north and south facing walls had four windows each, all different cities in varying color schemes, bustling with vague silhouettes of people. The window Ren sat beneath was among these, a picturesque view of some quaint market square. At the end of the hall, the east wall, the one that faced the sunrise and probably served as the chapel back when the place was more church-y, held a massive triptych. It was easily twice the size of the other windows in the building, with one main panel and two wings splayed open on either side. The left wing seemed to have something to do with Haltvale’s founding. There were freshly planted fields, barely green, tended to by a weary looking family near the foundations of some homestead, all timbers and loose stones. The right wing was a graveyard, tended to by a massive silhouette with a tangling of hair and a scythe in their hand. The beastly form knelt over a fresh grave, as if in prayer.

The center panel was the inside of a building, probably the church, given the shape of its outline. Standing inside it was a woman with hair wreathed in sunflowers. She held a sword in one hand, its point resting at her feet. In the other she cradled a hoe like it was a child. Where the hoe rested in the crook of her arm, red poured from some unseen wound into a fountain in the foreground of the image, spilled down its tiers in a waterfall. The fountain of probably-blood was overflowing, spilling into a field of wheat that barely poked its way up from the bottom of the window, framing its bottom edge. Five small circular windows arched above the main triptych depicting the moon’s phases, the soft blue-silver glass contrasting the gold and green below it.

Ren squinted at the triptych, trying to decide if he recognized the woman, or if the fountain looked like the fountain in the square. He decided he couldn’t recognize either feature.

“Who’s the goddess?” Ren asked, watching Cleo expectantly.

“Absolutely no idea,” Cleo answered, brushing her hair with a look of general disinterest. “I never worshiped here.”

Ren huffed and leaned his head back against the cool wall behind him. He raised an eyebrow in Gem’s direction, but she was laying with her back facing him and couldn’t share his disdain. She wasn’t asleep. Her head was propped on her arm, and she was staring at the windows, studying them for herself.

“You don’t really have to worship here though, to figure it out,” Cleo continued, much to Ren’s surprise. He figured she would let the conversation drop like she had their last few attempts. “All these churches were built around wellsprings, so if I had to guess, I’d say the girl up there was the keeper of this wellspring. People would come and ask something of the spring, and it would spit out magic according to what they were asking. In return, you’d leave a payment.”

Cleo gestured to the moon phases. Some people on the other end of the hall watched her point and turned to look at the window as well, confused. “Those windows represent the lunar month. That’s the payment for the magic given.”

“A month?” Ren smirked. “How do you give a month to a fountain?”

“Wellspring,” Gem corrected.

Ren huffed. “How do you give a month to a wellspring , then?”

“Depends on what you’re asking for,” Cleo shrugged. “Maybe you want your baby to stop crying, so the wellspring asks for a month where you watch it like you’d watch a baby. You sing it to sleep, and comfort it when it’s hurting, give it warm milk when it’s hungry. Maybe you want your crops to flourish, so it asks for a month’s worth of grain.”

Cleo shrugged again. “That’s how the wellspring in my village worked, anyway. I can’t remember what it asked for. I never used it.”

“That’s… awesome,” Ren said, eyes locked on the fountain in the window.

“Sure, until it’s shaving a month off your lifespan,” Cleo snorted. She was tying her hair back again, and the shift in her movement sent a whiff of the tannery’s smell in Ren’s direction. “Then you’ve got folks dropping dead because they didn’t know what they were agreeing to. That’s the funny thing about making a deal with something that can’t talk. It just takes what it wants and you cross your fingers it doesn’t want what you can’t give. The creatures that tended them, spirits or demons or… whatever got stuck with it… sometimes they could speak for the wellspring. Sometimes they were just as lost as the rest of us.”

Cleo smoothed a hand across the top of her head, satisfied with the way she’d styled her hair. “Anyway, most of them were shattered ages ago. Generations for some of them.”

Cleo glanced at Joe.

“This one was gone before I was born,” Joe said, answering her unspoken question. “My grandparents talked about it once though. I think they bargained with it for some livestock.”

“Did they tell you what it took?” Ren asked before he could think better of it. 

Joe shook his head. “Nah. And they lost the livestock in a flood the following summer anyway. It was a monkey’s paw type shenanigan, it sounded like.”

“What are the rest of the windows about?” Gem looked over her shoulder at Cleo, eyes wide with curiosity. Cleo huffed a long-suffering sigh, but there was a smirk playing at the edge of her lips, like she was glad to answer questions only she knew the answers to. 

“The one on the left represents the people who first settled here. There’s a focus on building and farming. S’not so different from now really. Strong roots make for a sturdy tree, I guess. The one on the right was to honor the town’s revenant. Used to be a long, long time ago, they’d keep the undead from rising in a village.” Cleo rapped her knuckles against the stone tiles. “Revenants used to be a key part of all the villages in the valley. They’d live with the spirits tending the wellspring, and a lot of dead used to be buried under these churches. Catacombs ran from church to church, connecting all the villages with a network. When war broke out, people used the catacombs to flee to safer villages - until all the revenants got killed, one way or another. Ours is closed up; keeps the restless dead down there and us safe up here. Now we've got a graveyard, and a locksmith who outfits more coffins than doors.”

Ren looked down at the ground, like he could somehow see through it to whatever honeycomb of tunnels awaited below. He couldn’t, but he stared anyway.

“Jeez,” Ren said underwhelmingly, because he didn’t know what else to say.  It amazed him how little he knew, even after living here for the years he had. “Just… jeez.”

“It’s a lot,” Cleo agreed. She laid out across her side of the quilt, pillowing her head on her crossed arms. “It’s easy to forget how much we’ve lost. There are kids in this town who have no idea what life was like before. Some parents too, they were too young to really remember it.”

“Is that why we kept the windows?” Gem asked. She kicked her legs idly, staring up at the jeweled glass. “To help us remember? With the monsters… you’d think we’d have replaced them by now.”

“We kept the windows because they were made in Aqua Town, and Aqua Town is gone,” Joe said. The words fell like stones from his mouth, bitter and final. “No one in Haltvale knows how to make leaded glass.”

Ren looked up to the cityscape window he sat beneath. There were eight windows in this room made to look like different villages, villages that all used to be connected by catacombs they could no longer walk, because of monsters that died off years ago. Eight villages Ren had never heard of before, and would never see, because they stopped existing before he'd even found himself in the valley. He remembered xB saying during the war, people thought the world was ending. For eight villages, it did.

Chapter Text

Ren jerked awake to the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. He blinked up at Gem, hovering over him, and was less surprised at being awoken than he was at falling asleep in the first place. The Town Hall was oddly quiet, a great majority of people succumbing to the late hour. The soft murmurs of a few sleepy voices still made their way to his ears, but it was a far cry from the loudness he’d fallen asleep to. He wondered how late it was.

“What’s up?” Ren asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Have you seen Doc?" Gem murmured. "I just realized he never joined us."

Ren glanced around, confirming what he'd been told. Cleo had a length of leather in her lap and was crafting something, looking like she might fall asleep as she worked. Joe was curled up beside her, his jacket pillowed beneath his head, snoring softly. Doc was nowhere in sight; not near their corner of the room, nor anywhere else Ren could see in the dim hall. Sleeping forms made odd shapes on the floor, splayed limbs and kicked-off blankets cluttered their shapes into something nearly indecipherable, like the coils of some large creature sprawling across the floor.

"I don't see False either," Ren whispered, stifling a yawn. "Maybe they're doing town business-y stuff somewhere?"

"This late?"

Ren shrugged. Normally whenever Doc and False started talking about community-minded things, Ren found something more entertaining to do. Not that he particularly minded helping people, he just had better things to do than listen to Doc and False talk about where a grain silo should be erected or what should be done about dry rot in someone’s roof. Granted, since there was a vex-thing about, whatever they were talking about right now would probably be far more interesting. That served as its own problem, though. Vex-things were terrifying, and talking about what to do about them was also terrifying.

Gem looked concerned. She also looked like she wasn’t going to let him get back to sleep any time soon. Ren got to his feet, stretched some of the stiffness out of his back, and sighed. “He can take care of himself, you know.”

“There’s a big difference between can and will,” Gem informed him with the tired sarcasm of someone explaining water was wet. The two of them slunk through the hall, taking stock of the few people still awake. It was mostly adults, miserably shifting on the floors or against the walls, failing to get comfortable. A few children were still awake, though only barely, and all of them were stifled and shushed by the exhausted people trying to sleep around them. It was hard to really see who was who in the dim hall. The chandeliers high above had been mostly snuffed out, save for a scant few candles flickering by the breezy rafters. Ren almost tripped over someone whose leg was sprawled in the main aisle.

After picking through the crowd and coming up empty, they circled back to the transepts, two wings near the back of the Town Hall that probably once held altars and prayer halls but now were outfitted with simple doors and even simpler storage rooms. Ren poked his head in the north transept, getting a lungful of root cellar smells the moment he did. Crates and barrels of excess food from Horsehead Farms were stacked on top of each other, held for hard times when the town might have to fall back on emergency supplies. Ren backed out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Gem had already moved on to the other side of the hall, quietly peering into the south transept, her face backlit by guttering candle light. She slipped inside and Ren followed after her, muttering an apology when he stepped on someone's outflung hand.

"Gem, he's not going to be in here," Ren whispered as he caught up to her. "This room is off limits. We'd be better off checking the bell tower."

"If False catches us back here, we'll just tell her we're looking for Doc." Gem shrugged with a mischievous smirk. "It's not a lie."

Ren thought about arguing, but ultimately decided he was too tired to. He'd rather do the bare minimum of finding Doc, then scoot back to his uncomfortable night’s sleep. Besides, it was a small room to search, and as far as forbidden places went, pretty low on the life-threatening-danger scale. Mostly they were just in danger of a stern lecture from False on the perils of putting their noses in other people’s business.

The room was made almost entirely of bookshelves cluttered with handwritten scrolls, journals, books, and an odd assortment of curios. A case full of model bird wings hung on one wall, with notes about plumage and seasonal molting. A dusty catalog of animal teeth took up an entire shelf. Some jars of questionable liquid with corroded labels were lined up neatly on another. The shimmering specimens of scales, some smooth and softly bioluminescent while others spined and sharp, were laced across the top of a bookcase like distant constellations in the candlelight. A case of bones from some large beast of burden was frozen mid-step against one wall, stark and pale.

The pair rounded one of the bookshelves into the little sitting area at the far side of the room. A candle was lit and sputtering on the single table cornered between two overflowing bookshelves, several books from which were stacked on the table. Enough room was cleared for writing, and a quill sat poised in its inkwell, a spattering of ink stain around its base marking recent use. Gem wandered over to the nearest shelf.

“You’re not going to find Doc on one of these shelves, Gem,” Ren whispered, though that didn’t stop his own feet from carrying him to one of the cases. There were enough feathers to stuff a down pillow pinned inside, all different sizes and colors, some nearly the length of his forearm.

“Yeah we should really check somewhere else,” she agreed, running a finger along the spine of one of the books. “Maybe Doc got chatty with someone and now he’s stuck at their house talking.”

Ren felt a prickling on the back of his neck, and he turned, expecting Gem to be staring at him. She wasn’t. Ren shivered, glanced around the room and tried to shake off the creeping sense of paranoia. Gem made like she was going to pull a book down, grimaced at the layer of dust that came away on her fingers and wiped them clean on her pants.

“Everything in here smells so old.”

“Well, it probably is,” Ren laughed nervously. “Come on, I don’t like it here.”

“You’re just freaked out by all the dead things,” Gem giggled at him. “Alright, let’s go ask--”

The bookshelf she was standing beside creaked, cutting her off. Both Ren and Gem looked up to the source of the noise -- a huddled form that Ren had dismissed as some other oddity in the room was moving. It dropped off the bookshelf, and Ren and Gem screamed.

“Shhh!” the person hissed at them, holding his hands up like he could physically stop the noise. “Are you guys trying to wake up the whole building?!”

“xB?!” Ren shouted, and scowled when he was shushed again.

“What are you doing in here?” Gem demanded, crossing her arms. “This place is off-limits you know.”

xB smirked at her and pulled a small book from his back pocket. “What are you guys doing in here?” he asked evasively.

“We’re looking for Doc,” Gem said matter-of-factly. 

xB chuckled. “Oh, sure. And I’m looking for Hypno.”

“Well obviously not, since you were skulking,” Ren huffed, clutching a hand to his chest like he could slow down his heartbeat.

“xB,” Gem gasped with exaggerated horror, “were you going through False’s stuff?”

“What? No. Me? I would ne-- I would never.” xB grinned wolfishly. He leafed through the book he was holding. “Besides, it's not all False’s stuff. Some of this junk belongs to the town.”

“Yeah, but False is the one that tells people not to go in here.”

“You gonna tattle on me?”

“May-be,” Gem said in a sing-song voice, crossing her arms behind her back mischievously. She rolled up onto her tiptoes, trying to see the pages of xB’s book. He smirked and started reading aloud.

“While it’s tempting to try and hunt them one at a time, they are actually weakest in groups. Incredibly empathetic. Harm to an individual sparks a severe physical reaction in all others present. Therefore, it is best to set an ambush for groups of five to ten, aiming at a target near their center. The rest will be incompacitated, allowing for easy dispatch.”

xB snapped the book shut with a loud thump! and slipped it onto the shelf.

“You were reading a hunting manual?” Gem asked, underwhelmed. “All the cool stuff in here, and that’s what you were sneaking around for.”

xB shrugged.

“It’s a good tactic though,” Ren hummed. “I mean, we ambush deer all the time. I wouldn’t really call them empathetic though.” 

xB stared at Ren wordlessly for a long moment, and Ren cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Anyway, uh, we should probably leave before we get in trouble, my dudes -- and also because Doc definitely isn’t in here.”

“Oh, you were serious about that?” xB asked, slipping his hands in his jacket pockets.

“You know where he is?”

“Yeah. Hypno ran off after him a bit ago.” xB walked past, gesturing for them to follow. Ren waited for Gem to start walking first. Knowing her, she’d find something interesting while his back was turned and stay behind. “Something about doing a look-around to make sure that critter didn't come back.”

“Would’ve been nice of Doc to tell us,” Ren snorted, stepping wide around the case of teeth he’d seen earlier. Some of them looked wolfish, and it made his gums itch.

"He probably thought you were asleep," xB shrugged. "It's like… butts-o'clock at night."

xB led them out of the side wing, through the crowded hall, and into the night. Ren was grateful the lights inside had been dimmed. Stepping outside was dark, but not dark enough to blind him. Ren glanced up, noting a few stand-out constellations hanging overhead, half expecting them to be blocked out by the shape of some flying creature haunting the sky. He found himself longing for a roof over his head again, and walked closer behind Gem, grateful they weren’t going far. Doc and Hypno huddled around a trio of horses on the other side of the square, talking in hushed voices. He couldn’t make out their conversation, but their tone was conversational, stumbling out curiously when Ren and the others approached.

“Oh,” Doc said, bemused. “What are you two doing up?”

“Looking for you,” Ren hummed, casting another glance at the sky. Hypno mirrored the motion, as if he’d just remembered he was standing outside in the dark, where some flying creature was lurking.

“Doc, what are you doing?” Gem asked, glancing between him and the horses, one curious eyebrow raised.

“Nothing interesting,” Doc said dismissively. “Just a walk-around.”

“False wanted us to do a town watch tonight,” Hypno elaborated, and Doc winced. “We’re gonna keep a patrol going for the next few nights - eye on the sky and all that jazz.”

Gem looked back at Doc, who made himself busy inspecting the nearest saddle. When he refused to meet her gaze, she cleared her throat.

“I’m just helping tonight,” Doc said finally.

“You can’t.” Gem smiled, and she sounded pleasant for how dangerous her smile looked.

“Gotta side with Gem on this one, my brother,” Ren said gently. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

“I’ve been sleeping fine,” Doc huffed, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “Besides, It’s not like I’m getting any sleep tonight anyway. I’m saving someone else from staying up.”

“You didn’t sleep last night,” Gem pointed out, “and you barely slept the night before, if at all-”

“I’m fine,” Doc snapped. “I know myself, and I know my limits. You two get back inside before a skeleton sees you or something.”

“Doc, don’t be dumb,” Gem scolded him, her hands on her hips. “You won’t help anyone if you pass out from exhaustion.”

“I’m fine, Gem.” 

“How long has it been since you last slept, Doc?” False asked, and the whole group startled, a chorus of gasps and flinches. No one had noticed her approach. She was just suddenly there, blinking at them tiredly. Doc frowned first at Gem, then at False.

“If you say the words ‘I’m fine’ one more time, I’ll punch you,” Gem said sweetly.

“It’s been a day or two,” Doc admitted begrudgingly.

“That’s dangerous,” False stated in a tone that conveyed no danger whatsoever.

“I’m-” Doc’s sentence winced out when Gem pulled her fist back, aimed threateningly at his shoulder. He eyed her warily, chose his words carefully, and said, “Ahm… I can manage one more night just fine.”

“Alright,” False muttered tiredly, pinching the space between her eyebrows. “Do you know what a phantom is, Doc?”

Ren didn’t know what a phantom was, and from the puzzled looks around their gathered circle, most of them didn’t. Doc’s eyes sparked with recognition though. He scratched the back of his neck and glanced up at the sky fleetingly.

“If I find out all of this is because of a phantom, you and I will be having words,” False warned him.

Doc grumbled something under his breath that Ren didn’t catch before finally throwing his hands up in defeat. “Alright, fine.”

“Self care? Amazing! Miracles really do still happen!” Gem deftly dodged Doc as he batted at her. She escorted him towards Town Hall, xB yawning a few steps behind them. Ren made to follow.

“Ren, before you go--” False stopped him, and sighed tiredly. “How much sleep have you had?”

Ren blinked at her, then past her to Hypno, who was already mounting up on one of the horses. His expression was hard to read in the dark, something caught between serious and nervous.

“Uh, well, I got a couple hours inside just now, so I’m pretty good to go for a bit,” Ren answered, ignoring the nervous feeling creeping up on him. He stifled the urge to look at the sky again. “Why? Do you need a replacement for Doc?”

“I prefer one, yeah.” False sighed. “I would ask xB, but I’m sure Horsehead Farms has work to do in the morning. One of them ought to be rested.”

Ren looked back at the safety of the Town Hall, the door to which was just slamming shut. 

“I understand if you don’t want to,” False continued gently. She sounded weary, bracing herself for a long night with little help, and Ren felt a pang of guilt from his own hesitancy. He ran a hand through his hair.

“No it’s okay, I’ll come.” Ren’s voice cracked ingloriously, and he hoped he sounded tired instead of scared. No one brought attention to it at least. “We’re just checking in on things, right?”

“Sort of.” False swung herself up into the nearest saddle. “I want to do a patrol. We’ll do a couple circles around town, make sure everything stays quiet.” She waited patiently for Ren, smirking. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

“I mean, I’ve ridden the goats before?” Ren answered uncertainly. He slipped a foot into the stirrup, realized it was the wrong one, and stumbled to correct himself. He dragged himself awkwardly into the saddle, grunting as it moved with his weight. There was a moment where the whole saddle tilted, and he worried it would slip and send him spilling onto the cobblestones. It didn’t, and with more effort than he’d care to admit, Ren managed to scramble onto the horse’s back. It shifted its footing, getting used to him. He was suddenly incredibly aware of how high he was, and how odd the world felt when it moved even though he was supposed to be sitting still. Ren swallowed, fixed his eyes forward, and prayed the horse didn’t find some reason to toss him off. He seriously doubted his ability to hang on if it did.

“You sure you wanna join us, Ren?” Hypno chuckled, checking the string on his short bow.

“No I’m not,” Ren laughed, trying not to sound as scared as he felt. “Oh jeez… at least we’ll be able to outrun whatever-it-is, right?”

False grimaced, but didn’t comment. Instead she nudged her mount forward, and the pale white horse took the lead on the road out of town. Ren looked over the side of his horse, trying to figure out how to prompt it forward, but as soon as Hypno’s started moving, it followed obediently, used to plodding along with a group. They were work horses, barely broken for riding but more than accustomed to following in stride with each other. Every step was lazy but sure, and Ren’s horse kept its head low, like it was half asleep and leaning into every footfall.

Riding a horse was very different from riding a goat. For one thing, he only ever rode on goat-back when he was willing to get tossed off. Vigenere tolerated people on her back just barely. The rest of her ilk didn’t tolerate it at all. It was only with great effort on Doc’s part that the ones that pulled his wagon even endured that. They were headstrong and stubborn animals. Goats were also stockier than horses. It seemed to Ren like most of a goat’s range of movement happened at the knee, where most of a horse's movement came from the shoulder. Goats jolted and loped, and you bounced and clung to them for dear life, like playing king-of-the-hill with the boulder you were standing on. Horses glided and galloped. Ren bobbed with the creature’s movement, leaned with every shift of its weight, but ultimately every movement was smooth, like it expected him. Then again, horses had saddles, which was a thing the goats definitely didn’t have.

“Alright, we’ll cut out to the graveyard and circle west,” False said, startling Ren out of his thoughts. She was pointing over the rooftops to the horizon hidden behind them. “I want to patrol the north side of town last. The woods will make checking around difficult, and it’s dark out tonight.”

Ren glanced skyward. There were no clouds, but the moon was a pale sliver in the sky, like a squinting eye, its light thin and weak. It made the stars brilliant and bathed everything past the town’s lamplight in smothering dark. Thankfully, False wasn’t taking them far. Haltvale had a scattered network of fences and lamp posts that ringed the town with reasonable protection. Zombies and skeletons struggled with climbing anything vertical, and where the gates were broken or gapped, the light would scare them away. Once or twice a year something would manage to shamble into town if a light was out, but it was a rare occurrence, and far from anyone’s mind now that there was a flying vex-thing around.

“So, for the curious who don’t wanna get dragged off,” Hypno started as they meandered off the main road and into the grass, beginning their wide circle around town, “Ren, do you remember what that thing sounded like when it attacked you?”

“What it… sounded like?” Ren repeated, confused.

“It flies, right?” Hypno said, and Ren realized Hypno had his short bow sitting across his lap. It was a hunting bow, the kind of thing someone would use for rabbits or birds. As Ren watched, Hypno removed one of the handmade arrows from the quiver at his hip and twirled it in his right hand. “We’ll hear it before we see it.”

“Oh, uh, I guess, yeah,” Ren stammered, looking up at the sky again, searching for breaking constellations. “I’m gonna be honest my dude, I can’t remember. That whole thing is just one big scary blur.”

Hypno made a soft tsk! noise with his teeth. “Darn.”

“I think my life flashed in front of my eyes?” Ren joked, trying to ease some of the tension already gripping its way into his shoulders. “It was kind of a boring show.”

Hypno barked a laugh, and Ren flashed him a smile that was nearing genuine.

“You probably won’t hear it coming,” False informed them. She didn’t bother looking at the sky, instead leaning in to pat her horse’s pale neck. “If it’s any kind of smart, it’ll set its wings and dive in, picking up speed on the way down. That way it can get in and out before whoever’s left can turn around and fight.” She straightened in the saddle and nudged her heel gently into her horse’s side, leading them into a quicker walk. “Pay attention to your horse. It’ll hear the wind off the dive before you will.”

Hypno laughed in that high tense way people do when they’re deeply unsettled. “Let’s hope it’s not smart, I guess.”

“I remember it had claws,” Ren added unhelpfully.

“I got attacked by an eagle once,” Hypno said, trying to force the conversation somewhere less scary. “It was trying to steal a rabbit I caught. It got the rabbit, but I got to keep both my eyes, so that was cool.”

The three of them lapsed into uneasy silence, or the closest they could get to silence among the susurrations of crickets and the low bellows of late summer frogs. Ren swatted away a moth that tangled itself in his hair and nearly lost his balance in the saddle as he did. His horse plodded on regardless of him, following False’s obediently as she stepped between the houses and one of the stretches of fence around town. In the distance, Ren watched a small herd of deer bound across the silver-gray grass, weaving around the meandering forms of a pair of zombies that had wandered from the woods. The undead hadn’t spotted them yet, and probably wouldn’t, given their aversion to the lantern light. They blundered around aimlessly, stumbling a few steps one direction before sniffing at the air and stumbling in another, packing down confused circles in the grass. 

“You ever wonder if we knew them?” Hypno asked no one in particular, nodding to the zombies. 

“I’m not from here,” Ren reminded him.

“Oh. Right.”

“I don’t ask myself those kinds of questions,” False murmured. “It’s not good for the mental health, you know?”

“I guess it is a bit grim,” Hypno admitted, forced to turn away from the wandering undead when their horses passed by a copse of trees. “I dunno, it’s weird that it’s possible. I mean, even Ren, right? Maybe someone you met on the other side of the mountains wandered in? Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Nothing makes it over the mountains without the Baron’s protection,” False reminded him gently. 

“Ren made it in.”

“Ren was lucky.” False smiled at Ren apologetically, and he shrugged. She wasn’t wrong.

“That thing made it in, too,” Hypno pointed out, gesturing vaguely skyward. Ren impulsively looked up. “And so did the big bear-thing.”

“Bear-thing?” Ren asked.

“The bear-thing was before you got here, Ren.” False led them between a pair of darkened houses, the inhabitants either asleep inside or evacuated to the town hall. “It was exactly what it sounds like -- a big black monster from over the mountains, bigger than a bear.”

Nervousness, previously forgotten as the night had worn on, turned in Ren’s guts like the coils of a snake, reminding him it was still there. “Oh jeez. That sounds… uh… scary.”

“It stayed pretty far from town,” False reassured. “It’s probably long dead by now.”

Ren let out a nervous laugh. "Probably."

“False is being modest, Ren,” Hypno tutted. “She’s the best monster hunter around, man. If she says it’s gone, it’s gone.”

The nervousness in Ren’s chest jumped to panic far quicker than it ever had before in his life. He stiffened in the saddle, eyes locked on False’s back as she led them.

“I uh… I didn’t know you were a monster hunter, False,” Ren managed tensely, trying to keep his voice even. False chuckled self-consciously, like she was preparing herself to receive undue praise. 

“I used to be, back during the war. We were in pretty high demand." False flashed him a mock salute with two fingers. "The Queen of Hearts at your service, Ren.”

She said it like it meant something notorious, like Ren was supposed to know who she was by the moniker alone. It did sound familiar in a vague, roundabout way, like he’d heard it before without the full weight of its context. He remembered asking Gem about it, why a soldier would have such an elaborate title in something so bitterly straightforward as war. Now he knew, and the dread of this new knowledge battled with the sobering fear that he’d known her for years but had never guessed. False didn’t look like a monster hunter, whatever those were supposed to look like. She didn’t look like a relentless killer, the kind of murderer who would follow innocent people to the places they felt safest just to kill them and everyone they knew -- but she was. 

His dread wrapped cold hands around him, locking him in place, like if he sat still enough, remained calm enough, she wouldn't see him for what he was. He forced himself to breathe evenly, reminded himself his ribbon was tied securely in his hair. He wasn't in danger. She didn't know. She didn’t know.

“The Queen of Heads, Hearts, and Body Parts,” Hypno corrected her, glowing with second-hand pride, “because she used to collect so many bounties.”

“No kidding?” Ren squeaked, and he hoped he sounded impressed instead of fearful. If he relaxed his grip on the reins for even a moment, he knew his hands would start shaking. False had her back to him, focusing on the task of steering them around town. Hypno kept talking excitedly, oblivious, thankfully mistaking Ren’s fear for awe. 

“Yeah, when things started really kicking off, the different villages would set bounties for the worst of the monsters attacking people, and to prove you made your kill, you had to bring monster bits back. Heads and hearts were the most common.” Hypno leaned forward in the saddle, reminiscing. “You should’ve seen it, Ren. They were heroes.”

“Some people thought so,” False said quietly.

“Our village thought so,” Hypno chided stubbornly before turning back to Ren. “Sometimes there were even parades. The biggest, most impressive kills were put on display, and they’d show it off to the whole village. One set of hunters brought in a dragon’s tooth once - from outside the valley. I don’t think the valley has ever seen a dragon.”

“That sounds-” Terrifying. Disgusting. “-impressive.”

“We hired False once,” Hypno continued. “There was a monster in the fields that kept turning the grapes into poison on the vine. Every time we went out to gather, we’d get sick, and when they fell off the vine they poisoned the soil.”

“I was just trying to help,” False said meekly, the look on her face caught somewhere between embarrassment and pity. Ren realized she too was nervous. Maybe she could tell the thought of her scared him, or maybe these things Hypno remembered so fondly she remembered differently. Maybe it was something else entirely. Ren was seriously doubting his ability to read people. After all, he’d failed to read False as a killer. She wore it so weightlessly, like those lives were nothing.

“You did way more than help, False,” Hypno grinned at her. “You kept the valley safe.”

“I did,” she agreed, and there was the barest glint of pride in her voice, like the flashing of steel in dark water, “and Haltvale’s still here. Guess I did some good at least.”

Ren’s stomach turned, sick with a jumbling of indescribable emotion. Fear and nervousness, and something like anger. Killing monsters. Doing good. He was right here. A very distant part of himself wanted to scream at them, to bare his teeth, his claws, his fur. I’m right here, the distant part of him snarled, what good will you do to me? Instead he kept his silence. He tried to make the bristling in his shoulders look natural, not the intensity of fear and revelation, but of the wariness of the night and the things it held.

False frowned, stiffened, and turned in her saddle. They were nearing the woods on the north side of town, that dense bit of forest she’d expressed concern over at the beginning of the night. Ren noticed a shift in the rhythmic plodding of the horse he was riding. Its ears were pricked, swiveled towards one of the darkened houses at the edge of the wood. Ren searched the branches, the roof, and then the stars, looking for any indication that the vex-thing was there. A creeping feeling prickled his skin, like spiders crawling up his spine. 

They were being watched.

"What is it?" Hypno whispered, having picked up on the cues as well. His bow was in his hands, his arrow knocked. "Do you see something?”

False swept her gaze around cautiously, mapping every hiding place, every possible roost. There was damning intention behind her calm demeanor: honed skill, long abandoned, crawling to wakefulness. She didn't answer him. Instead, she half-drew her sword from its scabbard, like she was unsure whether she should draw it. In the dim moonlight, the blade flashed with vibrant color, and Ren found himself leaning in, trying to decipher what he was seeing.

The hilt was like any other sword hilt: a wood handle wrapped in oiled leather, plain, plunging down towards a crossguard of stained steel. The blade, however, was a crystalline blue, like captured sky. Bands of purple light danced across its edges, and etched where the flat of the blade met the hilt, a handful of spiraling runes sat, thin scratches that glittered with enchanted power. It was a double-edged sword, so sharp and keen it brought to mind the image of broken glass. It was a monster hunter’s sword. A murderer’s sword. It was the kind of beautiful gruesome weapon that was sharp enough to rend limbs from bodies, and strong enough to do it over and over again without need of sharpening or repair.

That’s a diamond sword, Ren thought, staring at the blade with wide-eyed amazement. He’d never seen one before, not that he could remember, but it could be nothing else. He could hardly believe False had one. Diamond swords - diamond anything - weren't allowed in Haltvale. It was one of the laws the Baron enforced with strict regularity. It was a law Ren had never seen broken until now. Even Jevin, who brought his wares from over the mountains, only dared to bring objects painted in its likeness. They were always beautiful facsimiles, but they were fakes nonetheless. 

A form shot from the trees, bolting into the sky in a flurry of feathers and leaves. The three of them flinched towards each other, a chorus of startled gasps ringing between them -- followed quickly by shared sighs of relief as they relaxed in their saddles. It was an owl. It was a large owl with an impressive wingspan and a round white face that maintained a disconcerting amount of eye contact as it flew by them, but it was still just an owl. 

“Let’s all just agree not to tell anyone about that,” Hypno broke the silence first, smiling shakily as he spoke.

“Sure,” False laughed and carded a hand through her hair, trying to calm her nerves. “Oh man, that really had me worried there for a moment.”

They huddled there, filled with a new anxiety of their surroundings. Ren shivered. He could still feel the prickling of eyes on him. He looked over his shoulder, not really expecting to see anything. There were only empty rooftops and treetops, and the fields beyond, and the unsettling crawl of eyes watching. It wasn’t like in the forest, when he and the whatever-it-was locked gazes, but it was there, persistent.

“Ren, is everything alright?” False asked, and he jumped in his saddle when her hand touched his shoulder. 

“I-- I-- um…” Ren stammered, hyper-aware of her touch, scared she would find some reason to harm him. Her hands were cold, he could feel it through his shirt. Was he too hot? Would she know he was a monster just from that? How good of a hunter was she, how small a sign could she read? But she wasn’t looking at him like he was a monster. Her eyes were full of concern, protective, overextended in her saddle like she trusted him not to yank her off it. Vulnerable.

Ren should tell her about the eyes he could feel, still watching them. A good loyal person would tell her. A human would tell her. She could tell he was afraid, and it would be an easy excuse. They’re being watched, and he could send her after the monster like a good monster hunter, and she would pull that diamond sword from its sheath and it would taste blood for the first time in a long time -- and all the better if that creature out there was some vex-thing like he thought it was. Let the monster hunter and her bloodhound fight.

There was a chance though, however slim he thought it might be, that the thing out there was a monster like him. As scared of the creature as he was, he didn’t want to send False after them. He didn’t want her to kill anyone else.

“It’s nothing,” Ren finally answered, offering the shakiest of smiles. “I’m just-- my dude, I’m spooked out of my mind over here.”

False searched his face for a moment, then she smiled at him, warm and sympathetic. She squeezed his shoulder, trying to comfort him, to reassure him, like she didn’t know how terrifying she was. Like she didn’t know she was death given flesh.

“You’re doing great, Ren,” False told him, straightening in her saddle. “Really. I know it’s scary out here, but try not to worry about things too much. You’re a part of Haltvale now, so you’re under my protection, yeah?” False sounded so genuine, so earnest, so kind. A monster hunter telling a monster she’d keep him safe. Ren felt sick. He nodded regardless. It was all he could manage in reply. Then False nudged them onwards, continuing their patrol around Haltvale. Ren felt those eyes watching them until the first colors of dawn streaked the sky.

Chapter Text

Morning broke over the mountains warm, bright, and beautiful, and it landed on Ren’s shoulders like a house falling down. His back groaned, his legs whimpered, his neck whined, and a dozen other aches and pains he didn't know could exist all shouted their grievances at him when he moved. He was stiff and sore and exhausted, and he thought if he were any more tense he'd turn to stone. He wished he would turn to stone. Stone couldn’t jump at the sudden movements of people who thought they were his friends. It had taken everything he had to not flinch when, after they’d dismounted their horses, False patted him on the back and congratulated him on staying awake through the night. He flashed her a thin smile and prayed she mistook it for exhaustion. If she noticed, she ignored it, or else she was too tired to care. False excused herself to some errand Ren was too anxious to remember, and Hypno disappeared to stable the horses.

 The sleepless night was a thick and heavy haze. Little things were harder than they should have been. Slogging one half-hearted step after the next towards the Town Hall was a monumental task fueled only by the promise of collapsing on the floor and playing dead all day. Simple movements winded him, like he was chasing his breath and constantly losing ground. His body was a weight he dragged behind him like a mountainside and his focus drifted like the birdsong overhead. When people greeted him, it took long seconds for him to wave back. He was tired: a different kind of tired than he was used to in the early morning. He was tired like a broken clock, wound so tightly that the cogs jammed and the springs bent, leaving him useless. All he wanted in this moment, and in every foreseeable moment from now, was sleep. As Doc opened the Town Hall doors just before Ren got to them, he realized sleep was a mercy the universe wasn’t ready to give him.

“Good morning Ren,” Doc greeted him brightly, and Ren thought he looked better rested than he had yesterday. “How did your watch go?”

“Fine,” Ren answered, and it felt like he dredged up the word from the bottom of a well: heavy, deep, and colder than it should have been.

“I guess so, or else you would have woken the whole town,” Doc chuckled, and Ren had trouble seeing what was so funny. Last night had been hellish and unnerving, and the monster was the least of his worries. Doc cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Ren realized he’d been staring for… probably too long.

“Right. You’re probably exhausted. Go get some rest,” Doc said with stubborn brightness. He held the door open for Ren to walk through, and it was either unfortunate timing or subconscious serendipity that Ren’s eyes came to rest on the door to False’s study. Through the mire of his fatigue Ren saw the ghosts of teeth, bones, and feathers of odd and unrecognizable form. He saw books filled with hunting techniques for things that definitely weren’t deer and he recognized them for what they were: the life’s work of a monster hunter. Ren’s skin crawled -- or rather it had already been crawling, prickling with his nervousness all night, but now it crawled in earnest -- as though it was trying its best to crawl right off his body and into the overflow grate by the fountain. Ren blinked, and the expression on his face must’ve been horrific, because Doc hovered over him with concern.

“Ren? Are you alright?”

“I’m…” Ren swallowed and stifled a shudder that clung to the base of his spine, “...very tired.”

He said it distantly, like he was only just now observing that single feeling. In reality, he was aware of a great many things, of which revulsion was slowly climbing its way to the top. To tell Doc that though, he’d have to explain everything else that had happened last night, and that was something he couldn’t do right here, right now, in the middle of town where people could watch and listen. Already he was drawing attention to himself, backwards glances at his horrified expression, pinned to the middle distance. Doc too was leaning over Ren’s shoulder and peering into the Town Hall, one eyebrow raised quizzically as he tried to track whatever Ren was staring at. Then he shrugged, smirked, and patted Ren’s shoulder consolingly.

“Go sleep, brother,” Doc hummed. “If you need anything, Gem will be with Joe and Cleo in their garden today.”

The thought of being alone right next to that room shocked Ren out of his stupor. “Where are you going?”

“I’m helping xB today.” Doc wandered across the square and Ren fell in step behind him, grateful for a reason to leave the study behind. “Horsehead needs some work done but he can’t go alone, and Hypno needs his sleep.”

Hypno. Ren’s stomach curdled all over again. Hypno, speaking so pridefully about monster hunters and their bloody work. He had called them heroes. Well, at least Doc wasn’t spending the day with False.

Ren suddenly felt like he’d fallen in cold water. False . She and Doc were friends. Doc didn’t know she was a monster hunter . Panic woke itself in his chest again, a kicked creature quick to bite. Doc spent so much time with False, trying to find ways to help and protect Haltvale. She was going to find him out eventually, inevitably, if she didn’t suspect him already. He needed to know.

I can’t tell him here .

“I’ll-- I’ll go with you,” Ren stammered, and Doc laughed.

“Oh no. You’re going to bed, or I’ll tell Gem and she’ll drag you off like she did to me last night.” Doc grinned down at him. “This road goes both ways.”

“I can’t sleep here,” Ren said, and he meant it. He couldn’t go back to the Town Hall, to the gruesome menagerie just a few stones away. “It’s… uhm…” Ren cast around for a suitable excuse.

“Or I could drag you in there myself.” Doc smirked at him mischievously, in entirely too good a mood to be daunted. He wanted Ren to play with him. He wanted them to share good-natured insults, to laugh and be normal. He didn’t understand.

Ren swallowed, fixed his gaze on the cobblestones and blurted out what he knew Doc couldn’t dismiss: “I’m scared to be alone.”

That got Doc’s attention, and Ren felt guilty for the lie. Or, well, it wasn’t a complete lie. He was scared. He didn’t want to be alone. Doc probably thought he was shaken up from the watch last night, but he had no idea why. Empathy chased away Doc’s good humor, wiping the smirk off his face. He turned a few thoughts over in his head, then said, “Well… I’m sure xB and Hypno would let you sleep in their house. It’s a long walk for a little sleep, though.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ren answered stubbornly. He was tired and sore, and gods above a bed sounded nice, but those were less important things. “Please let me come with you?”

Doc relented, and Ren followed him like a lost dog, all loyalty and instinct and little else. Doc gathered up Vigenere from where he’d picketed his team of goats on the edge of town -- it wasn’t worth it to walk all of them to Horsehead, knowing they’d just be walking right back again. Besides, they did a good job of cropping the tall grass and climbing ivy devouring the fences they were tied to, and Gem would be in town to check on them. They met up with xB and Hypno, and for part of the walk they stayed together. Ren felt on edge near Hypno, like he was one misstep away from being discovered. For his part, Hypno seemed too focused on putting one foot in front of the other to care. He and xB talked in much the same way Ren and Doc had minutes earlier; cheerful one-sided ribbing peppered with yawns.

Ren walked slowly, which Doc matched. Distance opened up between them and the two ranchers of Horsehead Farm. Vigenere tossed her head restlessly, weary of the slow plodding pace. Ren simply watched the road and waited, letting the distance lengthen. Now they were a fence-length apart, now two. Now Hypno and xB’s voices could still be heard, but were fading away from recognizable words to only the formless cadence of distant conversation.

“You know, I could carry you,” Doc said, a smile in his voice.

Ren blinked up at him confused. “...What?”

“If I can carry a goat back to the Octagon, I can carry you up to the bend in the road,” Doc smirked. “I’d offer to let you ride on Vigenere, but she’d buck you off.”

Vigenere made a low noise, and if Ren didn’t know any better he’d say the goat had growled.

“I’m fine.”

“If we challenged a snail to a race right now, we would lose.”

Ren scowled, irritation bolting through him. Doc offered a smile that was more playful than apologetic. “Your sense of humor has fallen asleep without you, I take it?”

Ren looked up the road. Hypno and xB were still in sight, but the road did bend just slightly, and past the trees the roof of Horsehead Farm’s barn was a splash of color against the green. Ren bit his lip nervously. Even dragging his feet, he was approaching 'now or never' far too quickly.

“Doc,” he said quietly, eyes riveted on Hypno’s distant back like somehow the man might hear him, “I need to tell you something.”

“And here I thought you were just enjoying my company," Doc smiled in that tired way people do when they've woken up in a rare, well-rested good mood, and it's about to be ruined. Well, might as well get this over with.

"False is a monster hunter."

Ren didn't know how he expected Doc to react. He was too tired to really plan that far ahead. All he knew was that Doc reacted in a way that didn't make sense. Doc was quiet. Not the quiet confusion of someone caught off guard or the silent horror of someone rethinking a long-standing friendship. Doc blinked once, and then his eyes slid away from Ren down to the side of the road, which was suddenly incredibly interesting and worth studying. 

"She is."

It wasn't a question. It was a confirmation.

"You knew." Ren's voice was calm. He was too tired to muster his outrage quickly. It stoked itself low and slow, like a coal in his guts, but it burned hot as a brand and was getting hotter. 

"I knew." Doc's voice was even and remorseless, stating a simple fact. He still didn't meet Ren's gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me."

"It never came up."

Ren barked a laugh, or a scream shaped like one. "It never came up?!"

Ren's head was fuzzy, his emotions all chasing each other in circles. It was an indescribable feeling, like he was going to throw up a hurricane, betrayal hovering at its center.

"There ahm… there seems to be an echo out today," Doc grimaced, trying to break some of the tension.

"Does Gem know?" Ren growled, voice low.

Doc searched the ground, once again failing to find an answer. “I don’t know.”

“You never told her?”

“I don’t know!” Doc said, and he at least had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sure we’ve talked around it before--”

“But you never told her?” Ren bared his teeth in another miserable laugh which boiled in the back of his throat. “I can’t believe you!”

“Ren--”

“Was she the one that shot me?” Ren demanded, glaring up at Doc, almost too angry to see him. “Did you forget to tell me that too?”

“No, Ren, I don’t--” Doc grimaced, meeting Ren’s gaze for a moment before breaking it again, still searching for salvation in the grass. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“False works best with a sword,” Doc said placatingly, and Ren raked his hands through his hair angrily, because Doc knew False well enough to know her favorite weapons. “I mean, ahm, I’m sure she can use a bow but… I don’t think she could figure out where to shoot you, with all the fur. I don’t think--”

“Gods above,” Ren growled, “just -- gods above -- why am I even asking you? It’s not like you’d tell me, would you?”

“I--”

“You know Doc,” Ren spat, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened, “you talk a big game about wanting to protect us, but I’ve yet to see you actually do it with something that matters.” Doc gaped at him like he'd been struck, but Ren refused to let him recover. Ren stormed a step towards Doc, and if the ribbon weren’t bound up in his hair he knew he’d be bristling fur and sharp teeth. “We’ve been in town how many times? We’ve worked with False-- Gem’s unbound her hair in town and you suggested she do it .”

“I would never put either of you in danger,” Doc protested. “We’ve been fine .”

“No, you’ve been fine,” Ren snarled. “You’ve been off playing human in town, hiding behind your stupid bracelet, and dragging me and Gem along the entire time. All while hiding from us the really dangerous people.”

Doc huffed out a breath and there was a moment where he loomed, and his fists clenched, and Ren bared his teeth at him and he was ready . Ren was angry . Angry like he had swallowed fire and was breathing smoke, and he wanted Doc to do something. To stop standing around threateningly and actually do something . But he didn’t. Doc closed his eyes and he breathed in a long purposeful breath, his fists unclenched, his shoulders relaxed. Ren nearly saw red.

“We’re not doing this right now,” Doc said in a low voice, forcibly calm. It was that familiar, cool, distant voice he’d put on when he told Ren about the baron. That fatherly, authoritative voice he’d used to tell Gem she was staying home alone to wait. Ren was starting to hate that voice.

“Oh? And when are we doing this? Because if it’s on your time--”

“You’re exhausted,” Doc told him levelly. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I wonder why!” Ren snapped, suppressing a furious shudder. “It’s almost like you let me go galavanting off in the middle of the night with some genocidal witch-hunter and her starry-eyed groupy!”

“False isn’t--” Doc huffed out another sharp breath, desperately trying to contain his own temper. His hands clenched at his sides again. Good . Let him get angry. “It’s more complicated than that. And Hypno has his reasons for being the way he is.”

“ Having reasons only works as an excuse if you’re scared of spiders,” Ren spat, “not when you’re talking about hiring someone to kill people .”

“They don’t know we’re people.”

“That makes it worse!” Ren shouted, and then flinched at his own voice. The two of them stopped and looked up the road, but Hypno and xB were small shapes in the distance just disappearing around the bend. If they heard, they made no indication. Regardless, Ren dropped his voice to a furious whisper before he continued. “How can you even defend them? How can you defend False? Have you seen that horror show in her study? She keeps books on the best ways to hunt us, Doc . How many of those fun little techniques do you think she tried out on people you--”

Doc shoved him. Really shoved him. If it weren’t for Vigenere standing on Ren’s side of the road, he probably would’ve fallen into the dust. Instead he stumbled back into a wall of fur, and Vigenere let out an irritated snort. Then Doc was stepping towards Ren, looming like a fortress, his breath a dangerous hiss between clenched teeth as he grabbed the front of Ren's shirt. Ren was suddenly reminded Doc was much, much stronger than him, really just bigger in general, and he might not be the angriest Ren had ever seen him, but he was close.

"Finish that sentence," Doc said in a voice so low it was barely a breath, "and I'll give you something real to be scared of."

There was something mean and bitter in the back of Ren’s throat -- a dare, a challenge, the desire to be vicious and bite back. Another more distant part of him was screaming that Doc just threatened him, and he didn’t know what to do with that. So instead he reeled silently and clenched his teeth until the bones creaked, and Doc measured him with all the patience of a mountain in the breath before an avalanche. Doc let Ren go, and the two of them stepped away from each other. They shared a long brittle moment, waiting to see who would catch or shatter it. The only sound that passed between them was the call of birds in the trees and the impatient shuffle of Vigenere as she shifted her weight. The sun was warm on Ren’s shoulders and his blood was boiling. He wasn’t ready to let this go, to let Doc have the last word. Ren broke the silence.

“It’s not right.”

“You don’t get to decide what’s right,” Doc retorted, not meeting his eye. “You know nothing about it.”

“I don’t understand,” Ren continued stubbornly, “how you can be friends with her knowing what she’s done. How many of us--”

“You weren’t here. There is no us.”

“Fine! I wasn’t here,” Ren snapped, flailing his arms with the outburst. “All the more reason why it’s insane you can even be in the same town as her, let alone be her friend. All of them! They’d kill you if they knew what you were. The only reason they tolerate us is because they don’t know.”

“What would you have me do,” Doc demanded in a voice that could have cut glass, “go charging into town, weapon in hand, yelling for justice? All that blaze of glory stuff will do is get me more corpses!”

“But she’s--!’

“A soldier .”

“A monster hunter, Doc. She killed--”

“And so did I! I fought and killed. What does that make me, Ren?”

“That’s--” Ren shook his head. “You’re different. You were defending yourself.”

“You don’t know what ‘defending myself’ looks like.”

“Well I doubt it looks like keeping trophies and hunting journals,” Ren said, clenching his fists. “And if it does, you’re…” He didn’t have a good word for it, but the first thing that rose to his mind was you’re a monster , and it stung. It hurt him knowing monster was the only word he had for the worst parts of the world and himself. “Don’t defend her just because you think you share some kind of camaraderie. You don’t. She’d kill us , Doc. Maybe you’re not scared for yourself but what about me and Gem? Is her friendship worth that?”

“It’s better than being alone.”

“Putting all of our lives in danger is better than being alone?!”

“You have no idea--”

“Gods above -- I’m an amnesiac, not stupid . I know what living decently is like and this isn’t it.”

“Where else would we go?” Doc asked him earnestly. His question was genuine, even if his voice was still bitter. “Nothing can get over the mountains without the baron’s help.”

“I did!”

“You were lucky , Ren. You got lost in a snowstorm and happened to stumble through. Do you have any idea how many bodies are up there under the snow? Dozens -- maybe even hundreds of people tried to flee the valley during the war. They scattered up those mountains with nothing but the clothes on their backs and froze to death or were killed. You’d have me, what? Drag Gem up there and pray we got lucky like you? At least Haltvale is predictable!”

“You could live literally anywhere else,” Ren countered. “You could do anything. This whole valley is empty!”

“We can’t survive without Haltvale.”

“Doc for heaven’s sakes, you’ve got that cabin--”

“That cabin didn’t exist ,” Doc shouted in exasperation. “It still wouldn’t exist without their help. That pathetic little cot? That cast iron stove? The gods-damned roof steep enough to keep the snow off? Where do you think they came from? You think I made them myself one day out of redstone and a prayer?” Doc carded a hand back through his hair, laughing at how ridiculous it was. “ No . We were just a scared little girl and some -- some idiot who didn’t even have two arms to keep her warm with. We would’ve starved our first winter if Etho hadn’t found us, and frozen to death the winter after, if that monster hunter from Haltvale hadn’t taken us in.”

Doc’s eyes slipped off into the distance somewhere, on the edge of saying something more. Instead he shook his head, shoved his hands in his pockets, and turned to start walking up the road. Ren breathed an angry sigh and followed him, because what else could he do?

“It’s still not right,” Ren said stubbornly, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair .

“Don’t be such a child,” Doc snapped viciously.

“And you’re a complacent, jaded--!”

“Maybe I am,” Doc cut him off with a glare, “but at least I’m not stupid enough to think ‘right’ and ‘good’ have anything to do with this. Sometimes it’s just what you can live with and what you can’t.”

“And you can live with this?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

Ren chewed on that thought for a moment and decided he didn’t like the way it tasted. It was too much like giving up and making do with dregs. He wanted better. He wanted more. He wanted, at that moment, to have never gotten lost in the snow and ended up in Haltvale. He hated the little town fiercely, with all the parts of his mind still awake enough to think. He hated Doc for not telling him False was a monster hunter, for making excuses for her. He hated that once again he’d been lied to, that he’d placed his trust and safety in someone who didn’t deserve it. That Gem had too. He felt betrayed for himself and her.

Doc stopped walking, and only then did Ren realize they’d made it to the little stretch of fence and path that led to Hypno and xB’s house. xB was just opening the front door, having already ushered Hypno inside to rest. He waved to Doc and Ren, his smile bright and dissonant. Ren scowled, balled his hands into fists, and turned to continue up the road.

“Where are you going?” Doc demanded, but his voice wasn’t as sharp as it had been. He sounded tired.

“I’m going home,” Ren snapped. “I want nothing to do with this place.”

“It’s dangerous, Ren.”

“Are you going to stop me?” Ren turned on his heel to look back at Doc, daring him to do something. Doc had a hand on the gate, and he held onto the wood like it was the only thing anchoring him in place. He didn’t meet Ren’s gaze for very long, only long enough to size him up and decide it wasn’t worth another fight. It lit a fire in Ren’s chest, watching Doc run away again, like he always did. 

Ren rolled his eyes and turned away from Doc, reveling in the little victory. At least he’d have the chance to sleep somewhere as far away from Haltvale as possible, somewhere he could let his hair down and be himself.  Ren registered the trotting footsteps behind him at almost the same time the broad side of VIgenere’s horns butted into his shoulder. Ren nearly stumbled off his feet, and glared at the offending goat as she fell in step beside him. Ren turned and looked back one more time, ready to yell at Doc for sending the goat after him.

Doc stood with his hands braced against the gate, staring down at the ground like he’d just run a marathon. He let out a long breath, straightened, and squaring his shoulders he walked towards Horsehead Farms with purpose. He looked bold and confident just like he always did, as though their argument had never even happened. Ren sneered and continued walking again. Doc was a fantastic liar. He had to be. His entire life was a lie, after all.

Ren stormed up the road, replaying their fight in his head over and over, worrying at their words like a bad tooth -- and like a bad tooth, the more he poked at them the more they hurt. Anger and exhaustion battled with seething guilt, and tied his stomach in knots. He should’ve said something better, made his intentions more clear. Or he could’ve been more mean, and damn Doc for being selfish and making the conversation all about him and his struggles and what he’d been through. What about Ren? What about being shot in the snow and nearly dying, and the person who’d done it living just an hour or two up the road? What about Gem, trusting blindly and dodging peril by luck? Stupid. This whole thing was stupid, and Doc was stupid for letting it happen, and lying, and doing the things he did just to appease a bunch of people that couldn’t love him back.

Ren chased himself in circles, and his anger flared and withered like embers in his chest until the Octagon came into sight. Everything else he could possibly feel was replaced by blissful relief knowing rest was so near. Ren ushered Vigenere into the pasture and stumbled inside the house. He tore his ribbon out of his hair and threw it across the living room where it tumbled out of sight behind the couch. Ren kicked his bedroom door closed, collapsed into bed, and slept.

Chapter Text

Ren awoke with the gratifying, miserable feeling of having slept half the day away. His tongue felt like wool and his muscles ached dully when he moved, but at least he’d slept. He had dreamed as well, but they were fuzzy, dark, stressful dreams that faded the moment he woke. As Ren dragged himself further into wakefulness, his eyelids heavy and his head fuzzy, his first thought was they were probably caused by his fight with Doc. Ren stared at the ceiling, confused, because that was his waking thought -- until he thought about it more, and the guilt didn’t so much needle him, but knife him in the gut.

Ren groaned aloud and flung an arm over his face. He’d said… a lot of things he probably shouldn’t have. The betrayal was justified, as was some of the anger, but as he picked apart Doc’s expressions and reactions and words, Ren thought maybe that’d gotten a little uglier than it should have. Okay, it got a lot uglier than it should have. He couldn’t remember a time he’d made Doc so angry he’d laid hands on him. And threats? Threats were reserved for playful roughhousing or good-natured blackmail over chores. Serious threats… scary, harmful threats… they just didn’t do that to each other. It was a line they had never crossed before.

Finish that sentence, and I’ll give you something real to be scared of.

Ren buried his face in his pillow. Now that the line was crossed, he didn’t know what to do about it. What was more mortifying, that Doc had threatened him or that Ren had been mean enough to make him that angry?

How many of those fun little techniques do you think she tried out on people you--

What had he even planned to say there? People you knew? People you loved? All people who were likely dead. Yeah. That was a raw nerve, and he had decided instead of hitting it, he would eviscerate it. No wonder Doc had gotten so angry.

You talk a big game about wanting to protect us, but I’ve yet to see you do it with something that matters.

Ren groaned again and clapped his hands over his ears, like he could stop the fight from repeating itself in his head. He felt nauseous in that way only someone who had no way of fixing a mess they’d made felt sick. It was that hopeless kind of sick that said it would be easier to just go bury himself in the hole he’d dug rather than try to repair it. He didn’t know whether to be ashamed or get angry all over again. He was still right, wasn’t he? Doc should have told him. He deserved to know. Right? There was no justification Ren could think of, no reason why False being a monster hunter shouldn’t be shared with him. No reason besides fear or laziness, or something else equally despicable. 

Good luck getting an apology after all that, though. 

Ren sighed and sat up in bed. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stumbled into the kitchen. He pumped some water into the sink, washed his face, filled a glass, and collapsed onto one of the dining chairs. The house was stuffy and warm from being closed up all day, and the sun pooled in golden slashes across the floor in a way that reminded Ren of the Town Hall’s stained-glass windows. It was late afternoon. No wonder he felt like the newly-awakened dead, he had slept half the day away. Ren spun his cup on the counter and listened to the grating sound of glass on wood, awkward and loud in the empty house. 

Doc does keep a lot of secrets, doesn't he? That's probably what False was: one more secret. Ren didn't have a lot of secrets. The wolf ate them all. Everything from before Haltvale was a foggy lake of brief impressions, colors, and images. It made keeping secrets easy, knowing he had none to share. Doc though, he remembered everything. He would have to be good at keeping secrets, wouldn't he? Maybe he didn't talk about these things because it's easier not to let slip a dangerous truth if you avoid everything to do with it.

I shouldn't hold it against him. It's just the way he is. 

Ren put his face in his hands and sighed. 

But if he kept False a secret, what else is he hiding?

Ren sipped his water obnoxiously, drawing out the bubbling sound like he could drown his thoughts with it. His eyes scanned the empty room, desperate for even the shallowest distraction.

It was weird being home alone. It was rare even before the vex-thing started haunting the valley, and Ren found the quiet strange. The Octagon had a good, well-worn routine. Doc would rise first, always with noise. It wasn’t that he was clumsy, just that Doc always found a way of filling the silence of a house. He would whistle or tap out a tune with his feet while he brushed his hair and trimmed his beard. He would check the goats, then put on a kettle to boil. Some mornings he got started on chores. Some mornings he started breakfast. Then Ren and Gem would stir, and they’d get around in near unison. One would help with breakfast while the other fed the goats. Once fed, the goats would start roaming the fields, playing, and fussing and making a ruckus and generally filling every breath with sound.

There was none of that now. The sink dripped twice and fell still. There was some birdsong, but not nearly the cacophony that came when Gem let down her hair. Even with his hair unbound, Ren found the world too quiet. He looked around the living room, the kitchen, out the window, and he felt alone. It made his already sour mood even more so, and he brooded in the empty house, sipping his water. He should just go back to sleep. That was probably his best course of action. 

Ren stood up and stretched, set his glass on the counter, and peered out the window one more time to check the goats. They were huddled close to the barn, which he didn’t find too strange. They’d been left out to graze for two days, so they were probably huddling around the feed trough. Whenever someone else came home, most likely Doc, they should go put food out. Ren drummed his fingers on the counter and watched as a breeze tumbled through, turning the grass into a waving sea of green and gold. The back gate slammed shut, then screeched open again.

Ren blinked, watching as the back gate wavered on its hinges, unlatched. His eyes flicked to the goat herd, corralled by the barn. Vigenere stood between them and the open gate, keeping the herd from wandering. Ren’s drumming fingertips stilled. Nervousness kicked his heartbeat a little faster, and he breathed deeply to try and keep calm.

That gate hadn’t been open when he came home, had it? Surely he would have noticed. Ren watched the gate swing with the breeze again, listened to the loud clatter as it hit a fence post. Maybe… maybe someone was home, and they were just in the barn? Ren turned away from the window and searched the living room for any signs of… well, anyone. It didn’t look any different from when he’d stumbled in this morning. There were no jackets or shoes stashed anywhere. Nothing was moved or disturbed. All the smells of people were stale with age. It was only by kicking up dust with his own movement that he could smell anyone other than himself.

Ren walked out the front door and peered into the barn, seeing nothing moving in its darkened interior. Vigenere saw him though. She tossed her head and let out that long “something’s wrong” bleat, stamping a hoof on the ground impatiently. She looked towards the swinging gate and then back at him expectantly. It was a very judgmental “Why aren’t you fixing the broken thing?” kind of look.

Ren swallowed, and ran his hands through his hair, wincing as his sharp nails snagged on a knot. Right. He should calm down. The goats chewed holes in the fence all the time, and the Octagon crew had been gone -- or as good as gone -- for almost two days. It really wasn’t all that surprising that the goats had gotten bored or nervous and broken the gate. Ren looked at the clear afternoon sky, and reasoned he was probably safe enough. He’d be quick.

Ren jogged out to the barn, taking care to look it over for any creepers before entering. The goats scattered away from him as he entered, startled by the smell of wolf. He had to shove his way past them to grab a coil of rope from one of the pegs. Then he sprinted outside, across the field towards the broken gate.

It felt good to run, even stiff and sore as he was. With his ribbon out, running was easy. His lungs pulled deep breaths, his stride was long and bounding, and he felt nearly weightless. By the time he made it to the gate, he’d nearly forgotten his anxiety, filled with only the blinding euphoria of a fast run, and then resentment that he couldn’t feel like this all the time.

Ren shook his head and focused on the task at hand. He closed the gate, then frowned at it, puzzled, when it latched without issue. Ren shook the latch and it held. He kicked the gate gently, watched it rattle but remain closed. He kicked it a little harder and got the same result. Nothing seemed to be broken. Maybe one of the goats had figured out how to unlatch it, then? Well, no use taking chances anyway. Ren tied the top corner of the gate to the post beside it, then knelt to tie the bottom as well. 

There was a hoofprint in the dirt beside his boot. Ren blinked down at it, dumbfounded. The unmistakable two-toed print was just outside the fence, and it looked recent. Ren finished tying off the gate and stepped back, following the tracks. They meandered through the grass towards the wood, disappearing into the brush where a tuft of hair clung to a fallen limb like a pathetic little flag. Ren looked out into the woods, down to the tracks, and then back to the woods again. He turned, counting the goats he could see in the field. He counted them again. Vigenere let out another of her long “something’s wrong” bleats and snorted impatiently. Ren swore, loud, long, and as colorfully as he could manage.

One of the goats was loose.

If there were gods, Ren was sure they hated him. They had to. There was simply no other way to explain his misfortune. Of course one of the goats would escape into the woods while he was the only one home. Of course it would happen right after he had a massive argument with Doc, Doc who cherished those stupid goats like they were his own kin. Ren paced in front of the gate and swore again. He didn’t know what to do, and his mind didn’t race to any answers outside of how much of a problem this was, how terrible the timing, and how Doc would never, never forgive him. He’d probably think Ren had done this on purpose, set one of his goats loose, or refused to find it, because he was angry.

Ren ran his hands back through his hair and stopped his pacing. His nails once again caught on a knot and Ren winced. He looked down at his hand, at the long nails that showed themselves whenever his hair was undone. He looked to his left, to his right, back over his shoulder. Ren was… well, he was alone. He dropped to his knees in the grass and gave the ground an experimental sniff. The smell of goat was a familiar one, easy to distinguish from grass and dirt. It was a heavy, shaggy smell, a kind of smell that sunk into things and clung there. He stood, took a few tentative steps towards the tree line, and sniffed again. He could follow a scent. He used his nose to hunt every time he went up the mountain. Normally he was a wolf when he did it, but… well… It's not like a goat was a hard thing to smell, was it?

Ren shook his head, cursed one more time under his breath, and dashed off into the woods.

Chapter Text

Ren jogged through the woods, pulling each breath through his nose in long draws, tasting the air as much as he smelled it. It was a strange sensation, tracking something by scent like this: strange and familiar, in that soft, fuzzy way that a forgotten dream is familiar. Surely this was something he’d done before, another memory the wolf had eaten at some point. There was a part of him that wanted to focus on it, to pick apart the feeling of familiarity in an attempt to remember something. He couldn’t though. This was too important, and time was against him.

He wanted to find this stupid goat before nightfall, before the vex-thing was emboldened by darkness and started hunting. Even more so, he wanted to be back before Doc or Gem or anyone else made it home. He didn’t know how exactly a goat getting loose was his fault, but he was the only one home. It had to be his fault. He couldn’t have this on his conscience on top of his argument with Doc. He just couldn’t. Guilt writhed in Ren’s stomach, telling him if he hadn’t been angry at Doc, this wouldn’t have happened. This was universal retribution for his anger. So Ren ran, and he focused on his nose more than his feet, and he prayed whichever goat was loose was easy-going and compliant when he reached it.

At least this time the woods were pleasant. Well, they were ominous because he was running through them alone and his heart was hammering in his chest, but it was a sunny day. Golden light poured through the boughs overhead, puddling across the leaf litter. Birds chirped and squirrels chattered insults at his intrusion on their turf. He saw a deer flash off into the distance. Running unbound as he was, the impulse to chase it sunk teeth into him, and it was hard to shake off again. He had to focus. He had to be present. He wasn’t the wolf. Not yet.

Oh, but being unbound was beautiful! Ren could run and keep running, not tireless but something close. Something like being too euphoric to care if his chest heaved and his legs burned. When he breathed, he smelled, and the world became twice as colorful. He focused on the smell of goat, on tracking that heavy scent that coated the ground. Sometimes it spiked, clinging to taller branches and shrubs where they’d pressed near the goat’s scent glands by its head. The longer he smelled it, the more he could recognize it too. The missing goat was Beaufort, the goat they’d taken up the mountain a few weeks ago. Smelling him brought back swimming memories of chopping wood while half moon-drunk and the ghost of a skin-crawling itch. It made it that much harder for Ren to keep himself together. The memory of the wolf prowled up and down his spine, while the euphoria of running and chasing something whispered at him to run faster, and it was so, so hard not to give in.

Ren wasn’t used to exercising his own self control. Normally, the ribbon did that for him. If he was scared, or angry, or even excited, the wolf would rear up, but the ribbon in his hair stopped the change in its tracks. It was a brick wall, so sturdy it was nearly infallible. The only times Ren didn't wear his ribbon was when he was home, comfortable and safe and doing little of note, or the full moon had risen and the ribbon no longer mattered. To run so long unbound felt… dangerous. Exhilarating. He was nervous in that way a child climbing his first tall tree is nervous, testing the boundaries of what he was able to control. Ren hung onto his humanity with both hands, even as he reveled in the running and sensing, in the freedom of having no ribbon to stop him. He couldn't turn into the wolf now, alone, where he would run rampant and unchecked with no one to remind him who he was. He couldn't let go.

The smell was getting stronger now, making Ren’s head swim. He had to stop running. He panted, hands on his knees, every sense on fire, his skin crawling. Ren tried to ground himself, to force himself to remain rooted in whatever he had that passed for humanity. His breathing slowed. His crawling skin began to soothe. The impulse to change shape curled itself around the base of his spine, where it brooded, but contained itself. The ground in front of him still smelled like goat.

Ren took a deep breath and started running again. He narrowed his world down to the movement of his body and the scent in the grass, and he followed it doggedly. He lost the scent twice and had to backtrack, following the smell of his own sweat. He didn’t know where he was. He hadn’t paid enough attention to where he was going. All he knew was the golden slant of the sun through the leaves was getting longer and the ground was giving way to stony earth. Once, he stopped long enough to catch his breath and wonder if this was a bad idea, but guilt coerced him forward and fear of the fading sunlight gave him urgency.

It was by chance that Ren heard the sound, carried on the breeze. He stopped dead in his tracks, more instinct than attentiveness, his nose burning from the smells of the forest. As he stood catching his breath, he nearly dismissed it as something misheard, but then it came again. The sound of Beaufort bellowing from… somewhere. It was distant and odd, but Ren was grateful to be able to rely on some other sense than his own tired nose. By now, even his boundless energy was starting to wane, and his legs ached from the pace he’d been keeping, now much slower as the ground turned more and more to stones and roots. He realized he had been going uphill, and wondered just how far from home he’d wandered. Surely he couldn’t be that far? He thought, maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could recognize Doc's trail markers in the trees, but he had no idea how to follow them back home.

Ren crested what he thought was a hill, then abruptly stopped walking when a cave tumbled open before him. Well… it was less a cave, and more a small ravine. Steep, sheer rock walls dropped into a pit that was maybe as long as their barn. It wasn’t a leg-breaking fall, Ren wagered, but it was still deep and unexpected enough that looking down made his head spin. At the bottom, staring up at him and bleating pathetically, was Beaufort.

“Oh, jeez buddy. How the heck did you end up down there?” Ren asked as though the goat could answer. “Just-- sit tight Beauf, I’ll get you out.” 

Beaufort snorted and gave an irritable stomp of his hoof in reply.

Ren put his hands on his hips and sighed. He chewed his lip and searched the rock walls, trying to think of something that could be even mildly helpful. In theory, Doc’s goats were all descended from mountain-born stock. The steep rock walls wouldn’t give any of Beaufort’s distant relatives trouble. Mountain goats made a living on the mountaintops though, not in cushy pastures where they were fed and cared for until they grew to something the size of a horse. Even if Beaufort was physically capable of climbing out, convincing the goat of that would be a feat on its own. Then there was the fact that Ren had no ribbon, and poor Beaufort thought he smelled too much like a predator to be trusted.

The breeze shifted, throwing Ren’s hair into his face. He shook his head to clear it out of his way-- and stiffened. A new smell had carried itself to him on the breeze. New, but still oddly familiar, ghosting to him memories of running through the snow, blindly chasing. It was a subtle smell, round and soft like mountain wind and pine needles, easy enough to ignore if not for the bite of something else at the end of it. Ren sniffed, mouth half-open, trying to place what it was, but the smell of Beaufort was stronger and coated his tongue. Ren turned his head into the wind and cautiously walked a few steps into the breeze, puzzled. A shudder jolted up his spine -- the pricking weight of eyes on his back -- and the canopy crackled with sudden movement. Ren flinched against the nearest tree trunk.

“Well it’s about time I got you alone,” a voice sounded over Ren’s head, and he gasped and stumbled away from the tree, eyes up and searching. Tree branches creaked and snapped as something flitted amongst them. Ren caught a glimpse of a wing that lost itself in the leaves overhead. He was almost too busy tracking movement to remember to be scared. Almost. Panic crept up on him like a spider up his spine, crawling steadily faster with the speed of his heartbeat. 

“Do you have any idea how difficult you are to pin down?” the voice came again, high and indignant, like Ren had personally offended them. “Figuratively, anyway. Like, the getting you alone bit? Really difficult. I was starting to get bored, you know.”

There was another crackling of branches, and something fell on Ren’s shoulders. He yelped, jumping away only to find it was a few spindly sticks broken from the branches as the creature moved. 

“L-listen,” Ren stammered, his voice cracking. He swallowed hard and tried again. “Just… leave me alone, okay? I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Trouble? Hah!” The canopy rasped overhead, and this time Ren could make out a discernible wing beat, a heavy noise that pulsed in his ears. It made him flinch, and then he flinched again when the voice resumed behind him. “I’m not sure it matters what you’re looking for, friend. Trouble’s found you.”

Ren spun to face the voice and winced when he found himself glaring into sunlight. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, trying to see. There was something crouched in the branches above him, their body lined up with the painful gold of the evening sun, the white halo of it sitting squarely over their left shoulder. All Ren could make out was a black silhouette, their form hard to distinguish among clumps of leaves and spidering branches. What he thought was an arm turned into a limb, turned into something that could be claws, turned into leaves that might be feathers. The creature shifted their weight on their perch, and a clump of bark fell to the ground, knocked free by the movement of their talons.

“So what’s your deal, dog-boy?” the voice asked him, a smug grin tangled in their tone. Ren’s expression must’ve shown his shock, because they laughed. “Yeah, I know about your full moon problem. I watched you and the deer-girl go hunting. You two are a right deadly pair, aren’t you?”

Ren didn’t know what to do, and it was getting hard to focus. The panic in him was screaming to run, to really run. His ribbon was gone: he could let the wolf take over and bolt, and maybe this thing would catch him, but Ren would be all claws and teeth and instinct and a better fight, if nothing else. It was getting hard to stay human, to keep everything in check, to stay present . What would happen if he ran with no one here besides this monster threatening him in the trees?

Ren backed up a step as the creature shifted in the branches again. They had a strong grip, he could hear the branch creak beneath their claws.

“Is that why you live down here?” the creature demanded, and their accusing tone made Ren flinch. “Do you two have a deal with the monster hunters or something?”

“I--”

“I mean, why else would you live in Death Valley?” the creature asked, not expecting an answer. “You go hunting with them, don’t you?”

“N-no I--”

The creature took off again, a massive shadow flitting with far more speed and grace than Ren thought was possible. He could barely track them as they flew. Ren found himself stumbling over his own feet as he tried to keep up with them, tried to keep them in sight so he’d at least see an attack coming. He stumbled in the leaves and nearly fell over, his heart lurched, his skin itched. Ren’s chest felt tight and he couldn’t tell if it was fear, the transformation trying to burst through his skin, or both.

“Of course you do. That's why you were hunting me."

Ren had lost track of them again. They were too agile, too good at weaving through the canopy. Ren snapped his head around only to see a shudder of movement with no idea where it was going. He tripped over his own feet again, stumbled, barely managed to stay standing.

"I-- I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't know what I'm talking about?" The voice mocked with another laugh. "You chased me all across the mountains! Did you forget?"

Ren laughed nervously, backing up a few more steps, seeking shelter and finding none. A tree branch above his head jerked as something steps down on it only to spring up again. Ren bared his teeth in something halfway between a smile and a snarl. It was getting hard to breathe, even harder to think past the impulse to run. The creature was talking again, their voice a muffled blur of noise that fought with Ren’s heartbeat and breath as the loudest sounds in his head. The branches overhead became smears of green, gold, and black, and Ren realized he’d lost the thing circling him. His body itched, pins and needles underneath skin that felt stretched too tight over his bones. He couldn’t see the creature.

Something large and heavy landed on his shoulders. Massive wings loomed in his peripheral vision, caging him in with their size. Claws strong enough to break branches, to break bone, sunk into his shoulders for grip. Ren screamed and flailed, but he couldn’t lift his arms against the weight on his shoulders. He staggered, both from the creature’s landing and his own attempt at flight, and his foot came down on air. The ravine . Suddenly, Ren was falling, his hands grabbing at the air in a vain attempt to catch himself. The creature kicked off of him, a silhouette against the sun. Ren tumbled backwards, his fear and panic howling in his head, then howling out loud.

Ren burst out of his own skin, and with an agility only the wolf had, twisted in the air so he landed awkwardly on his paws instead of on his back at the bottom of the ravine. It was a heavy landing, jarring every bone and clacking his freshly elongated teeth. All instinct and no thought, no sense, the wolf’s only compulsion was escape, but the earth had caged him in damp and dark. Fear, thick and red like blood, obliterated every other smell. He scrambled to the nearest wall, snarling and bristling and leaped, claws and hands scrabbling on loose stone before he fell back again. Above him was the sharp staccato of that voice, but the wolf only knew it as the sound of a threat, so he bared his teeth and growled. The wolf trained his eyes on the object of his fear, and with nowhere to run, chose to leap at it, snapping and howling. It fluttered back from the pit, a new gap in one of its wings where the wolf had ripped out a handful of flight feathers. It surged into the air, away from him. The wolf made another powerful leap that nearly took him out of the pit, clawing at the creature as it flitted off into the trees. His claws passed harmlessly through a tail feather before he fell back into the ravine.

Something slammed into the wolf’s side, tossing him into the nearest wall. The wolf shook itself and was back on his feet again, light and strong, for the first time remembering he wasn’t alone in his stone cage. A massive goat stomped a hoof on the ground and bellowed a warning, threatening him with its horns. The wolf was tired of being threatened, tired of being cornered and scared. Besides, he remembered this creature, he remembered thinking how fun a fight with one would be. The wolf snarled, bristled, half stood on his powerful hind legs, and lunged.

Chapter Text

Docm77

There was a phrase Doc’s people used to say: life is a season, and seasons change. When his people finally decided to enter the war in earnest, and Doc, impulsive and hot-blooded, let himself get swept up in the tide of it, one of his elders pulled him aside and warned him, “We have reached our autumn, and winter kills.” Of course, she had followed this up by telling him for every bitter winter there is always a vibrant spring, but in the years since, Doc decided that spring never came. At times, the winter grew bearable and the snow melted, but he lived in the breath between hoarfrost and icefall.

Ever since the monster came, he began to think he was mistaken. Doc had missed a solstice in his life somewhere. Some equinox had passed him by while he was tending his flock, and while he sulked his way through a mild summer, a new winter found him woefully unprepared. Ren and Gem looked to him to keep them safe, keep them warm, keep them sheltered, and he had nothing to give them. The wind was beginning to howl. The season was turning to ice. The end was nearing. He might dread it if it wasn’t so inevitable. Seasons change. Good things end. Winter kills.

 He thought none of this in plain words. It was a quiet voice in the back of his head as he paced around the house, waiting on news, waiting on anything. He had sent the others home hours ago; no sense keeping them here while they waited for Ren to wake. It wasn’t like Ren would be in shape for company anyway.

I should have gone with him, Doc thought bitterly. Damn fool. Why didn't I go with him?

Around sunset, a weary xB and newly awakened Hypno walked Doc home. It was cheerful. They'd talked and laughed, and forgot for a few minutes how cursed they all were -- or at least, Doc had. At least with a host of friends, it would be easier to face Ren.

Except Ren wasn't home.

Hypno was the one who found the tracks. He was a good tracker, and paired with xB’s hunting bow, they made a great team. They tried to get Doc to wait for daylight to search. There was no way they could have succeeded, but they did try. They even followed into the woods as he went crashing through, screaming Ren’s name with reckless abandon, ignoring the sounds of waking dead. The groaning and rattling of death approached him, but blinded as he was by panic and remorse, he ignored it. Doc had a faint memory of xB trying to get him to turn back, telling him he couldn’t help Ren if he was dead, if some monster killed him. It would have been a good argument for anyone not living on borrowed time. As it was, Doc was basically dead already, it just hadn’t caught up to him yet. He didn’t much care if or when it did, so he called Ren’s name again, stumbled in the brush for tracks before storming off in another direction.

At some point, Hypno had run back to get help. Doc didn’t know when. He hadn’t been paying attention. He should have. Anyone fit to lead, fit to help, with two ounces of sense to his name, would have at least kept track of where everyone was so no one else got lost in the dark. All he knew was at some point he was alone with xB, stumbling through tar-black woods. At some point he’d heard yelling, other voices calling for Ren in the night. Dangerous. He shouldn’t have let them do that. It should have been just him out there blundering around, getting himself killed.

Joe was the one who found Ren. He, Cleo, and Gem had been heading to the Town Hall when Hypno came bursting in, having sprinted all the way from the Octagon. They left him gathering volunteers for a search party. When Doc heard Joe’s voice screaming through the woods that he found something, Doc hadn’t even questioned it. He just ran, xB shouting at him to come back, to stay together. 

Finding Ren was almost worse than the search for him. Doc thought he knew his every fear, thought he faced them all at some point. He already lost everything once before. That tends to make a person feel like they’ve already seen the worst of the world. Finding Ren covered in blood at the bottom of a pit, still as death, set a horror in Doc’s guts that he wouldn’t forget for a very, very long time. He would have jumped straight into the ravine if Cleo hadn’t seen him moving and grabbed him around the chest before he could. He would have hit her, if she hadn’t pinned his arms in a bear hug. He didn’t think anyone could be stronger than him when he was emotional. Cleo proved him wrong. Thank the gods for her and Joe. What good would he have been if he broke his leg jumping down there? He hated being that powerless though, kicking and screaming while Cleo dragged him away from the ravine, yelling at him to shut up and think, to keep it together. The only thing that stopped him from trying to break her arm was Gem exclaiming she could see Ren breathing. The rest was a merciful, relief-filled blur.

Doc shook his head, huffed out an angry breath, then shook his head again. He needed to stop thinking about this. He had done nothing but replay the evening over and over again in his head since he got home. Ren was fine. Ren was-- Ren wasn’t fine. Ren wasn’t fine and Doc sent everyone home after dark, knowing that creature was out there. They were walking in groups, they would be safe-- but he had thought Ren was safe, too.

I put so many people in danger tonight, Doc thought bitterly, kicking one of their dining room chairs so viciously it clattered over.

You talk such a big game about protecting us-- 

Doc was no stranger to letting people down and getting them killed. He hadn’t imagined he could get more efficient at it, yet here he was. He hovered over the kicked chair, doing everything in his power to stifle the impulse to break it. He had always been destructive when he was upset. It was in his nature to rend and tear. Even with his bracelet on, he felt barely contained. He wanted to burn something, break something. He wanted to punch the wall until his arm broke.

It was an exercise in self-restraint that Doc did not break the chair he had kicked over. He righted it instead, then stood clenching and unclenching his fists, counting his breaths as he gulped them down, long and slow. Deep breathing had stopped helping ages ago, but he had to try. He was the strong one, the calm one, the one everyone looked to when the world was caving in. He didn’t have the luxury of breaking things and falling apart. He shouldn’t have kicked the chair, but he was alone in the living room and no one could see him having a barely contained breakdown.

I’m not having a breakdown. I’m not allowed to have a breakdown. Stay calm.

With a shaking hand, Doc pulled his knife from his belt, grabbed up a chunk of wood from beside the fireplace, and started cutting into it. He wasn’t calm enough for this, but as long as he didn’t slice a finger off, he would try. He was in his right mind enough to recognize he needed to break the moment he was in, and to do that, he needed something to focus on, to keep his hands busy. 

It seemed like Gem had been in Ren’s room for a thousand years, tending to him. Doc would be in there too, if he weren’t such a nuisance when he was nervous. Gem didn’t mean to brush him off, but she needed to concentrate on healing, and someone needed to keep watch in case the creature came back to finish what it started, or if a neighbor arrived to check on them in the middle of the night. If it was still the middle of the night. Doc had stopped keeping time. It made him too nervous. It reminded him too much of changing seasons, of waiting for dawn, of huddling in a dark place watching for… well… things that didn't matter anymore. That was the past and he couldn't think about it. If he thought about the past he would be reminded how much it was starting to look like the present: sitting in a room waiting nervously for news, for anyone to come back. How quiet it was, deafeningly quiet. How he thought he could hear every snowflake hit the ground, how every creaking tree branch was the ghost of hunters in the woods, or the baron's men. The first snowfall had taken away the reek of blood, but the danger was still there. Gem was finally asleep, had finally stopped asking questions he couldn't answer.

Doc blinked down at his hands impassively, watching a cut on his thumb well up with blood. He didn’t remember when he’d done that, which meant he’d stopped paying attention to his carving at some point. His hand started shaking again. His prosthetic held the knife steady. It didn’t shake when he was nervous, it just ached, a growing tightness in his shoulder. He felt it first as his pulse, uncomfortably fast and close to the skin where his prosthetic neared what was left of his bone. Then there was pain like a vice, slowly closing. It made him want to twitch fingers that were no longer there. His shaking hand dropped the block of wood he'd been carving, and he clutched at his shoulder, set his jaw, screwed his eyes shut.

Calm down, he begged, calm down. You can't do this. Not right now.

The house was too quiet, his breath loud in his ears. His shoulder hurt. His heart raced like running, like fighting, like holding steel, like being caught in it, like-- it pulsed in the cut on his thumb and he tried to focus on that, to ground himself there. He needed to stay present. He needed to stop thinking about his arm, the bear-trap weight on it and the ghost of a voice in the back of his head, I'm with you, I'm with you! It had been quiet then too. Quiet and colorful, an explosion of feelings like wailing that blinked out, one firework after another, never to be made again, until everything was dark and silent. 

You're thinking about it again.

Doc was on his feet, moving so clumsily he kicked his dropped knife and sent it skidding across the floor. He felt an uncanny relief when he saw it, heard it. Right, his knife. He. Needed that. He needed it to-- to carve something. To stay calm. Right. Doc breathed in deeply. His shoulder still hurt. There was. Something. Hovering on the edge of his vision, lurking in shadows half-seen in corners. It was big and shaped in thick, heavy angles, and it just stood there in his periphery, and Doc froze when he saw it.

Doc tried to remember to ground himself in the present, but he couldn't really tell what the present was anymore. The ground beneath his feet was wood, which didn't make sense, because he was outside. Wood. Wood was different. Wood was inside. So he couldn't be outside. He was standing in. His house. He was home. He was. He was holding something in his shaking hands. A teacup? That’s what he’d gotten up for, wasn’t it? Right. Because he. Needed to calm down. Make some tea and… calm down. And he was going to ignore the. The shadow in the corner. Ignore it. His hand chose that moment to shudder violently, and he dropped the cup on the floor. He watched it shatter but it didn’t sound quite right. The high pitched shatter of glass was wrong, like a potion bottle dropped in the distance, the first warning of an attack they were too stupid to flee from. The shadow was closer, and there was weight to it. Shadows casting shadows. And he was standing. He was standing, somewhere. He was doing something. He was… 

It's because of the running, Doc scolded himself distantly with the part of his common sense that still desperately gripped his addled mind. Running in the dark, in the middle of the night. Finding Ren. That's all it is.

He took a deep, shaking breath and let it out slowly. Deep breathing had stopped helping ages ago, but he needed to be persistent. So he stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the broken cup on the floor, swallowing air like he'd been dredged up from half-drowning. He was so focused on his task, on pinning his feet to the floor and breathing and ignoring the thing in the corner and the sounds that weren’t right and the house that was too quiet, that he nearly missed Gem's voice, barely above a whisper.

"Doc? Are you here?"

Doc only realized his vision had been closing in when it yawned open again. Doc's gaze snapped to where Gem was standing, hovering in front of Ren's closed door. She looked tired and guarded, trying to figure him out. He was still trying to figure himself out. She blurred in his vision slightly, hard to focus on but still there, still concrete, a tangible person rooted in the present. 

Doc didn't trust himself to speak, so he nodded. Gem relaxed a little, fatigue slumping her shoulders farther than normal. She had dark circles under her eyes and hugged her arms to her chest like she was holding herself upright. After a long pause she asked softly, "I'm really tired. Could you make me some tea?"

Doc glanced down at the shattered cup at his feet. Gem followed his gaze and smirked. “Hmm, you know, I think I’d rather you chose a different cup.”

Doc let out a soft breath of a laugh, a single syllable that dropped to the floor. "What kind of tea?"

"The birch tea. With some honey, please."

Doc did as he was told clumsily. His left hand still shook, and it was hard to get a grip on the lid of the tin to unscrew it. Gem watched him work for a few long moments before fetching his knife from beneath the table and picking up the block of wood he'd mangled. She wrinkled her nose at it.

"You know, your carvings look better when they aren't covered in bloody fingerprints," she told him. Doc shrugged and winced at the ache in his shoulder.

"I ahm… thought it might add some color."

"What were you making?"

Doc paused in pouring water. "Ahm… I can't really remember."

"That bad, huh?"

She was no longer talking about the carving. He didn't answer.

"You should pour yourself a cup as well."

"Tea doesn't help," Doc said, his voice nearly a whisper.

"Do it because I asked you to?"

Doc poured two cups and spooned generous amounts of honey into them. Gem had stolen his seat in the armchair along with his knife and carving, but he didn't fight her for them. He simply set her cup on the side table near her.

"You want some help taking your prosthetic off?" Gem offered.

"No. You've cleaned up enough of my messes today." Doc kicked out the kitchen chair he'd knocked over earlier, this time gently enough that it merely slid away from the table. He sat in it miserably and stared down at his cup, watching the steam curl. "How is he?"

Gem shrugged and took a long, noisy sip of her tea. He hated that noise, which was probably why she did it. It gave him something to focus on. "I healed him up, mostly. I left a few of the smaller scrapes behind."

Doc nodded. He had a vague memory of telling her to do that. People would ask fewer questions that way. 

"He's asleep now. Uhm… most of the blood was Beaufort's, poor guy."

"It's just a goat."

"Doc, you're allowed to be upset--"

"No. I'm not." Doc's hand was starting to shake again. He clasped the mug tighter. Stay calm.

"Mistakes were made," Gem said gently, “but nobody died. Or, well… no people did?"

Gem winced. Doc didn't. He took a drink of his tea. It was bitter in spite of the honey and made his nose itch. He was pretty sure he'd burned it. He drank more anyway.

"Your herd is important to you, Doc," Gem persisted, her voice filled with undeserved sympathy. "I mean, yeah they're not as important as Ren, but you're allowed to be upset one of them is gone."

Doc felt a flash of something, anger maybe, and it forced him to put his cup on the table before he could drop it. He reminded himself Gem was trying to help, that his emotions didn't make sense right now. He massaged his shoulder with his shaking hand, trying to soothe the ache that was clamping down on him again.

"You should take the prosthetic off," Gem said quietly. "The pressure isn't helping."

"Being helpless will make it worse."

"Taking it off has helped before."

"It won't help this time."

Gem sighed and leaned back in the chair, glancing up at the ceiling with the long-suffering look of someone dealing with a petulant child. "Ren's fine, Doc. Don't punish yourself over nothing."

"You think this is nothing?"

"Well… no. You shouldn't have left him alone." Gem turned in the chair so that her legs kicked over one arm while her arms draped over the other. "But he also shouldn't have followed Beaufort out into the woods, especially with his ribbon off. I mean, it might not have even been the monster-thing, you know? Ren panics, and when he panics, the wolf comes out. He might have freaked himself out trying to get Beaufort and bam! Wolf attack!" Gem made a starburst motion with her hands. "Those sure looked like hoof and horn strikes to me. Those goats are massive, Doc. There are donkeys half their size that kill wolves, you know."

"And what about the marks on his shoulders?"

"Well… um…" Gem looked up at the ceiling tiredly. 

"And the feathers?"

She grimaced. 

"And who led Beaufort out there in the first place? He didn’t climb down into that hole on his own."

Gem shrugged, conceding the point. "Okay, Ren probably got attacked. But still. He didn't get attacked until after he was out there-- probably. And we know he made it back to the house since he left the door open. It didn't drag him two hour’s walk into the woods just to throw him in a hole and leave, is what I'm getting at. He walked out there."

Doc put his head in his hands and sighed. “He wouldn’t have walked out there if I hadn’t yelled at him.”

Gem shrugged, “You underestimate the power of a panicky Ren. I think he would’ve done it anyway.”

“This isn’t his fault.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” Gem said, taking another annoyingly loud sip of her tea. “I’d argue it's the beasty’s fault, whatever-it-is. But I also think Ren made some dumb decisions to help it along.”

Doc snorted a humorless laugh.

“What did you two fight about anyway?”

Doc looked down at the floor, collecting his thoughts. Gem waited, patient and loud. She tapped her foot against the wall, took a few more obnoxious sips from her tea, and hummed a little tune under her breath at times. It was comforting to hear the noise, and it let him sift through the uncomfortable day without being drowned by it. He hated that she had to do that. He hated that she knew enough about him and his issues to do it automatically. Finally, Doc cleared his throat.

“We were talking about False.”

“I see,” Gem said, even though she didn’t. He knew she didn’t, because she followed up her observation with: “False is a bad person, isn’t she?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, she fought in the war, but she definitely didn’t fight on our side, or I would’ve heard of her at some point.”

“I don’t think she’s bad,” Doc sighed and massaged his shoulder again. False was turning into their household boogieman. Gem waited for him to explain further, but he couldn’t. He could try, he should try, but it would go exactly the same way it’d gone with Ren. He was sure of it. “It’s complicated.”

“Right. Complicated.” Gem said as she turned to sit right-way-up in the chair. “Ren didn’t think it was complicated though?”

“Ahm… no. He thought it was very simple. You would probably agree.”

“Oh, good,” Gem snapped, annoyance making itself louder in her voice and the cross of her arms. “I’m glad you’ve decided I’d agree with this thing I know nothing about, that you keep being evasive about, that Ren will probably also be evasive about when he wakes up. I’m glad we’ve all mutually decided what I would think about it, without me having to do that myself.”

Doc glowered at her, “I’m not being evasive.”

Gem scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“I’m not!” Doc hissed defensively. “I just don't want to talk about it right now. I mean gods forbid I want ten seconds of peace after everything from the last couple days?"

"See, that's the thing Doc," Gem smiled at him thinly. "You'll never talk about it later. So I can corner you about it now, or I can give up on getting an answer. Am I the kind of person who gives up, Doc?"

Doc scowled, a flash of anger bolting through him. The impulse to break something rose in him again: to stand and toss the chair over, or slam the front door open, or throw something. Instead, he curled his fingernails into his palm and breathed deeply. They sat in tense silence for several minutes, or as close to tense silence as Gem would allow. She kept fidgeting, tapping, huffing, and shifting in her seat. Doc's anger melted back into guilt and frustration, and he put his face in his hands. Gem was right here with him when she should be resting. She was making noise to keep him calm, and all she wanted in return were the answers to a few simple questions, and all he can do is get angry. Gods above, Ren was right. Doc was a terrible guardian.

At length, Doc gave a defeated sigh. "I'm sorry Gem. I'm not… doing well."

"I noticed."

"False is a monster hunter."

Gem's fidgeting stopped abruptly. It felt like the whole house was holding its breath.

"Oh." Was all she said for several long seconds. Then finally, "Yeah I guess she is."

"You don't sound that surprised."

"I don’t think I am,” Gem said quietly. “I think I kind of knew already. It makes sense for her. I just… didn’t want it to be true, you know?”

Doc nodded. The silence was starting to creep up on him again. He could feel it like a wasp in the room. The ache in his shoulder deepened. The impulse to fill the house with noise, destructive noise, grew in his chest. 

“I liked False,” Gem sighed, and he hated how even that mournful sound was soothing to him. He wished she’d keep talking, or go back to fidgeting. Instead she just sat there looking small, blinking down at her hands clasped in her lap like they were holding all the noise she’d taken out of the room.

“I’m sorry,” Doc repeated.

“Yeah, I am too.”

“You can still like her.”

“No, I can’t. Or… I shouldn’t, I guess. I mean, my parents…” Gem sighed and ran her hands back through her hair.

“We don’t… know if that was monster hunters.” Doc offered lamely, and the words sounded too half-hearted to be genuine. It was a weak defense.

Gem shook her head and sighed again. “What a mess, Doc.”

Gem gave a half-hearted tap on the ground with her foot, like she’d just remembered she was supposed to be making noise. Doc felt a guilty twist in his stomach. He should be comforting her, not the other way around. He should be… gods, why was he so bad at this? How had he let this happen?

“You’re exhausted,” Doc said after the stillness in the room was too unbearable. “You should  sleep, Gem.”

He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to be awake, alone, in this quiet house, but he was supposed to be protecting her and Ren. He was supposed to be looking after them, and keeping them safe, and happy, and he’d done such a terrible job of it today. 

Gem laughed, a joyless sound, and offered him a half-hearted smile, “And what? Leave you alone to have a crisis in the other room?”

“I could go busy myself with the goats or something.”

“At night, while that thing is out there somewhere?”

Doc grimaced and looked away from her, half-started a dozen thoughts that went nowhere. Frustrated, unable to think of anything useful for a solution and growing tired of his own helplessness, Doc huffed a sigh and stood to pour the rest of his tea in the sink. 

“That’s good tea you’re wasting,” Gem told him, taking another long sip of hers. Then she brightened slightly. “We could have a sleepover.”

“I’m not building a pillow fort.”

“I meant like, you could sleep on the couch and I could sleep on the chair.” Gem shook her head, “No wait, I call the couch. It’s comfier.”

“And what good will that do?”

“You need to feel like you aren’t alone,” Gem pointed out. She stood and stretched, and moved to grab a blanket from its place on the back of the couch. “We both need sleep. Plus, if Ren wakes up before we do, we’ll be the first thing he sees when he leaves his room.”

Without waiting for Doc to agree, Gem repositioned a pair of pillows to one side of the couch and curled up against them, sighing contentedly. Doc couldn’t help but smirk. There was something funny and charming about Gem claiming the couch only to use barely half of it.

“Get me another blanket?” Gem asked, watching him expectantly. Doc sighed and did as he was told, stepping cautiously around the broken cup on the floor and resolving to do something about it tomorrow. For tonight, he threw another blanket over Gem’s shoulders and sat his own in his lap. He snuffed out the lamp, and listened to Gem’s breathing as it lengthed and slowed. He listened to the clock slowly ticking and its single chime as it declared the half-hour. He tried not to think about Ren, and the monster out there, and False and Haltvale and all the things he knew but could do nothing about. He tried not to think about how he needed to do better, be better, be stronger. He tried not to think about how winter was coming again, and just like last time, he’d fooled himself into thinking he was ready for it. He tried not to think about how many people died last time he thought he knew what he was doing. 

He needed to keep Ren and Gem safe. 

Doc only knew he fell asleep when he was waking up to a pale gray dawn and the sound of over-loud birdsong. He stood, grabbed his knife from the side table, and walked out to the barn. He had work to do.

Chapter Text

The quiet of the house crept into Ren's dreams to wake him with its wrongness. At first he couldn’t place where he was, and when he found himself in his bed beneath familiar blankets, he couldn’t remember how he got here. The wolf had sighed across his memories, leaving nothing but white fog behind. If he thought hard enough, he could remember going out into the woods, he could remember something circling him in the treetops… and… nothing. It was just a blur of emotions: fear and thrill and then satisfaction. He felt sated, like the morning after a hunt with Gem, and like the quiet house, the gap in his memory brought a deep sense of foreboding. Yesterday he hunted something, but he had no idea what it was.

Ren looked around the room again, this time for any indication of what happened or what he had done. He didn't know what he was looking for exactly. A big glowing sign detailing if he killed someone would have been nice. There was none, nor any hint of the clothes he left the house in with somewhat-clichéd bloodstains on them. Then again, he hadn't woken up in a jail cell, or at the end of False's sword point, or surrounded by a bunch of wolf-eaten carnage. Really, the total lack of indication was probably a good sign, but the unknown tied knots in his stomach.

What Ren knew for certain was that he was sore. Overwhelmingly. Like a blanket of hurts, damp and heavy; the deep, familiar ache in his joints that came from changing his shape. It had been so long since Ren had changed when the full moon wasn’t there to soothe his pains, he nearly forgot what the full-body hangover felt like. He was loath to move, for fear more aches would awaken when he did. His shoulders sent him the itch of scabbed wounds, and he had to resist the urge to scratch at them. Those, he knew, weren't from the change. The monster, circling in the trees. Yes, he remembered that.

A pot clattered from the other room and Ren jumped. Aches traveled up his body in a bitter echo of the movement, and he grimaced as he waited on them to subside.

Well, someone was home and so was he. A sense of knowing that Ren couldn’t place told him he’d been carried here, and he thought, maybe, as if it was a dream, he could remember talking to Gem in the middle of the night. He couldn’t remember what they talked about, but they had talked, and he didn’t remember her being mad at him. Just soothing and concerned. So whatever he did when he was… well… it couldn’t have been too terrible, could it? Ren rubbed his face with his hands, and surprised himself when he felt the ridge of another scab on his cheek. Now that he knew it was there, it stung faintly. Touching gingerly, he mapped its length with his finger, feeling it curve back towards his ear where a second scab joined it. Whatever the wolf had gone after, it put up one hell of a fight. Ren didn’t know if he was comforted by that or not.

In the kitchen, a few more pans banged around, followed shortly by the tinny screech of the teakettle. Aside from the shuffle of cookware in the kitchen and the strangled squeal as the kettle was yanked off the stove, the house was quiet. No talking. No singing. No whistling. It was the cheerless sound of mechanical motion, of doing because doing needed done. Ren didn’t like it. It didn’t sound how mornings in this house were supposed to sound. He hadn’t realized the house could have so much noise and still sound so empty, like in spite of the shuffle, it wasn’t being lived in. 

Ren hesitated a moment longer in bed, thumbing the scab on his cheek. Every knuckle in his hand ached. The sense of foreboding in his chest deepened. Deciding he couldn’t avoid getting up any longer, Ren stood and walked to his bedroom door. Every joint and muscle, even some of his bones, whispered to him their distinct grievances when he moved. He massaged his hands and toed open the door.

The house smelled overwhelmingly of Gem’s presence, floral and earthy scents mingling in her specific blueprint. Moss and lichen latticed the ceiling, adding texture and color to the wood grain, though it grayed and died the further from the kitchen it got. The living room was empty save for a bundle of blankets crumpled on one side of the couch and a notched up wood block left on the side table. Ren rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped when Gem’s outstretched hand snapped in his direction.

“Go put your shoes on,” she said, not looking up from her cooking. “Doc broke some glass last night and I don’t know if I got it all.”

“Oh." Ren backtracked to his room cautiously, watching for the glitter of broken glass on the floorboards. “Uh, good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning!” Gem answered with forced brightness. “I’m making eggs and toast.”

“Sounds--” Ren realized he wasn’t very hungry. He puzzled over whether or not that was normal. “Sounds great.”

Armed with the closest pair of shoes he could reach, Ren found himself a seat at the table, watching patiently as Gem spooned out a plate full of eggs and a cup of tea. The dishes clattered dissonantly as she dropped them down, her mind elsewhere. She glanced out the window, frowned, and shook her head disapprovingly before collapsing into the nearest chair.

Ren asked the obvious question: “Where’s Doc?”

Gem waved a hand in the direction of the barn. 

“Is he joining us for breakfast?”

“He already ate,” Gem said, searching the ceiling. “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know. He was awake before I was. If he slept at all. It’s, you know, I want to be upset, but it’s kind of hard to care this morning.”

Ren looked down at his hands, unsure of how to respond to that. He got the feeling she was upset with him, or, more to the point, upset with Doc because of him. He didn’t know which option he thought was worse, or how to deal with either of them, so instead he took a quiet drink of his tea and let Gem decide where to go with the conversation next. Gem tore a piece of toast on her plate into small pieces, frowning down at her eggs like they insulted her.

“Sorry,” she said finally. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Ren nodded. That was probably his fault too.

“I don’t know how that man functions on so little sleep,” Gem continued, sounding a little less annoyed. “I feel like how you look.”

Ren snorted a chuckle. “Funny, I was just about to ask if I looked as bad as you feel.”

Gem flashed him an exhausted smile. “You don’t look all that bad. A little scraped up is all.” She sighed and leaned her head in her hand, her expression turning sour again. “How are you doing?”

“Mostly just sore. And foggy.”

“How much of yesterday do you remember?”

Ren grimaced. “Uh, well, a bit.”

“A bit?”

Ren squinted in the direction of the window, plucking shreds of memory from the wolf’s teeth. He told her about waking up to the gate banging, about tracking through the woods. He told her about finding Beaufort at the bottom of the ravine, and stumbled over what little he could remember of his encounter with the monster. It bothered him that his memory cut off so abruptly after his fall. Panic and the wolf's impulses formed an impassable wall that he continued to worry at, and continued to fail at parsing. Gem listened patiently, tapping out a tuneless cadence on her plate with a finger. She refrained from commenting, though occasionally her foot knocked into his beneath the table. It struck Ren again how tired she looked, and he wondered if her fidgeting was the only thing keeping her awake during his retelling.

“Did you get a good look at it?” Gem asked at length, when he ran out of memories that weren't vague emotional impressions and smells. Ren relaxed the grip he’d unknowingly clenched around the edge of the table, wincing when the ache in his knuckles bloomed again.

“No. It kept flying above me in circles, so the sun was always at its back.” Ren closed his eyes, trying to remember an image and failing. “I mean, it had feathers. Wings and tail feathers I think? The wings sounded heavy. It smelled… I don’t know. Familiar?”

“Well that’s no surprise,” Gem scoffed. “It’s only been terrorizing us for weeks.”

“I guess.” Ren shrugged. “It pushed me into the ravine after that.”

“Did you tell it that’s a bad way to make friends?”

“I was too busy growing claws and teeth.”

“Gotcha.”

Ren used the pause in the conversation to scoop a fork full of eggs into his mouth. It was hard to do eggs wrong, but Gem had been pretty close to managing it. No seasonings, a little on the brown side of done, with what he pretended wasn’t an eggshell crunch at the end of his second bite. Between the taste and his general lack of hunger, he was starting to feel nauseous… or maybe that was his nervousness catching up to him.

“Um…” Ren started, then hesitated, trying to find a good way to ask the question on his mind. He settled on: “I didn’t wake up hungry.”

“If you’re trying to ask if you ate someone, no,” Gem stated coolly. Before Ren could feel properly relieved, she added, “but you got one of the goats.”

Ren’s stomach gave a twist and he thought he might throw up. He dropped his fork abruptly, his appetite gone.

Gem sighed. “It’s just a goat, Ren.”

“It’s just a goat,” Ren repeated, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Right. And it was just a little fight.”

“Ren.”

“Gods above, how the heck could I have screwed up this badly?” Ren wailed, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so, so sorry, Gem.”

“Ren, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. It’s not okay! Gem, that’s our livelihood. Doc loves those things--”

“Weird, I don’t see Doc sitting at the table crying about it.”

“Of course not.” Ren scoffed and rolled his eyes. “He’s only out there sulking and avoiding me, probably. Trying to figure out if I went moon crazy or-- or-- gods I’m surprised he didn’t just leave me out there-- if he didn’t hate me before--!”

“Ren!” Gem snapped, her tone suddenly harsh. “It was a goat. An animal. Calm down.” She pinched the space between her eyes and sighed -- a little overdramatically, in Ren’s opinion. “Doc isn’t that fussed about it. He’s just glad you’re okay. Everyone is glad you’re okay, when they aren’t wondering how you could be that stupid. Me. Specifically. I’m wondering how you could be that stupid.”

Ren’s brow wrinkled in a frown, indignation temporarily drowning out everything else. “I wasn’t stupid.”

“You’re right. Stupid is an understatement.”

“I wasn’t--”

“I watched you die yesterday, Ren.”

Ren closed his mouth so fast he felt his teeth click together. Gem said it boredly, her voice even and still, but there was an intensity behind her eyes that was cutting. She glared at him with a tired ferocity that made him think of the heavy thorn bushes that broke down pasture gates, only dangerous when you tried to move them. The wood grain beneath his fingertips suddenly felt sharper.

“I’m fine,” Ren said, the words stumbling out of his mouth like he was trying to reassure himself more than her. Gem rolled her eyes at him.

“You’re fine,” Gem agreed, that bramble-thorn stare locking onto him again. “I know that now, Ren. I didn’t know that last night. None of us did.”

Gem’s fidgeting had stopped, her body still and tense in a way that clashed with the deceptive cheerfulness of her voice. “Last night, I found someone who is basically my brother at the bottom of a ravine full of goat bits, covered in blood and scratches. Except I didn’t know it was goat bits, and I didn’t know the blood wasn’t his. Do you have any idea what that looks like, Ren? Doc went ballistic. Cleo almost dislocated her shoulder keeping him from doing something stupid and Joe started hyperventilating--"

"Why were Joe and Cleo there?"

Gem ignored his question, too keen on saying her piece. "You were dead, Ren, and for what? Because I was too excited about gardening to walk you home? Because you and Doc got into a dumb fight? Because you panicked? What a stupid, stupid thing to lose someone over. You have no idea how bad that sucked, Ren. No one I know is supposed to get killed. That’s not how life is supposed to work anymore. We survived that part years ago. It's not supposed to happen again, it's not--"

Gem huffed out a sharp breath, then reached out slowly to wrap her hands around her teacup, holding it in a grip so tight her knuckles paled. She was still staring him down, but it felt less like she was scolding him with her gaze and more like she was glaring through him, seeing the bottom of the ravine somewhere behind his eyes. “You should have waited for us to get back. You knew that thing was trying to bait people out into the woods. Like, yeah, losing the goat sucks or whatever, but we have a barn full of goats. We do not have a barn full of, you know, really dumb werewolves that wear suspenders and go camping with me once a month. You could have died yesterday, Ren. I can’t heal that. You understand I can’t heal that, right? Nobody can.”

Gem’s voice broke on the last sentence. She winced, swallowed, and finally looked away from him, covering her mouth like she could physically hold all her building emotions in. Gem blinked her eyes rapidly, huffed out a bracing breath through her nose, and took a long drink of tea.

“I understand,” Ren said, when he thought the silence had stretched long enough to put weight behind his words. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be,” Gem said, her voice hoarse but soft, the edge of a smirk in her tone. “Otherwise I’ll have to find more impactful ways of getting through your thick skull.”

“Such as?”

“Hitting it, probably.”

Ren nodded, feeling equal parts ashamed and deeply, deeply loved.

Gem cleared her throat, reclaiming the rest of her pleasant tone. “See, this is why I need sleep. I stop being pleasant without it.”

“Gods help us if you ever decide to pull an all-nighter.”

“I think the gods would kill me before they let that happen. I’d become ungovernable.”

Gem laughed at her own joke, and Ren laughed with her, more from the relief at the return of her humor than anything else. It was like balm on a burn. The world wasn’t right when Gem didn’t have a sense of humor. Grim wasn’t an atmosphere she was made to carry. If Gem was laughing, Ren could convince himself things were okay, or that they would be. The moment was short lived.

“False and the vex were here earlier,” Gem informed him, an afterthought that didn’t do justice to the spike of fear it sent down Ren’s spine. A shudder pounced on him quicker than he could stifle it, and he crossed his arms on the table trying to pretend he was just cold. 

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Doc stopped them at the door, and I didn’t hear what they talked about… probably checking on you.”

Ren nodded, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. Of course False would check in on him. She did the same last time he was attacked. Her sword, the unenchanted iron one, still hung on the hook by the door. Ren wagered that Cub's claw marks were still in the pasture, too. 

“I should talk to Doc,” Ren said.

“You should,” Gem agreed, glancing out the window. Neither of them could see Doc from where they sat, just the fence line and a handful of goats grazing at its edges. Ren picked up his fork to pretend to pick at his eggs again, only to watch Gem collect their plates and take them to the sink. She raised her eyebrows at him.

Ren sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and said lamely, “I don’t know where my ribbon is.”

Gem rolled her eyes, shook her head, and turned to wash the dishes. Ren watched her back for a moment, waiting for her to insist he go outside anyway. She didn’t.

Chapter Text

Ren’s conversation with Gem turned out to be the only bright spot in a quiet and distant day, and a quiet and distant night. There wasn’t much to do around the barn that required staying outside until sunset, but Doc managed it. There wasn’t much to do around the house that would keep Ren from greeting Doc when he finally returned, but he managed it. It was the old familiarity of people used to each others’ patterns, knowing enough to avoid them. Doc settled in his chair to carve, a clear demand for solitude that Ren enthusiastically obeyed. He fell asleep to the rattle of wind in the tree branches, the only sound besides the creaks and groans of a withdrawn house.

In the morning, Ren awoke to the sound of Vigenere complaining loudly. He was tempted to roll over and pretend he hadn’t heard anything, given dawn was only a creeping pale around the edges of the horizon. Her bellow was too much like her warning call though, and the more Ren tried to ignore it, the more his mind turned to that first night with the creature in the dark, Vigenere calling as she stood between the barn and her herd. Grumbling, Ren got himself together to greet the day: shirt and jeans and suspenders, and a spare black ribbon he found beneath his bed the day before. It felt pleasantly normal in a way that was almost nostalgic, and it made him stand in front of his mirror longer than he should. The scab on his cheekbone made him grimace, ruining the illusion. He really, really hoped it wouldn’t leave a scar.

The house was quiet as Ren padded through it, but he could tell Doc was already awake. His jacket was gone from the back of his chair, his boots missing from beside the door. It also made Vigenere’s occasional bellows from outside more sensical. Doc was working with his goats already, and given how clean the kitchen was, he hadn't even bothered to make breakfast beforehand. Ren hovered by the cold stove, quietly wondering if he should make something. Then he remembered he and Gem's conversation yesterday, wondering if Doc had eaten or slept, and decided just the wafting smell of good food probably wouldn't make the man sit still. 

Ren should probably… go talk to him. He should probably go talk to Doc about a lot of things, but chastising him about unhealthy habits was at least a well-worn road to start on. It would be an expected conversation, just close enough to normal to not be hair-pullingly awkward. It was also a conversation Ren didn't want to have. Ren sighed, and made for the door.

He walked outside to a world darned in spider web mist; humid and heavy and thick enough to make a ghost of the barn. It billowed out from the tree line, glittering the grass with a subtle shine of dew. The front gate was open. There Doc stood, hitching goats to his wagon like there wasn’t a monster around that had shoved Ren into a pit two days ago. It was almost admirable how much Doc could ignore if it meant not sitting in a quiet house.

“You got a death wish?” Ren asked.

Doc startled, which Ren figured was probably a good thing. At least Doc was a little nervous about his surroundings. Doc huffed out a sigh but didn’t pause in his work. Vigenere -- still loudly complaining -- was the last goat that needed to be hitched, and stopping now meant she would probably find a way to kick herself free. It didn’t matter how much Vigenere liked Doc, she still hated pulling the cart.

"Ahm… not a death wish," Doc muttered, fiddling with a strap he was having trouble buckling. Every time he almost got it snapped into place, Vigenere would shake out her fur, bumping it loose again.

"Then why are you out here alone, my dude?"

"Why are you up this early?" Doc countered, finally managing to get the last buckle cinched. He yanked on it a few times, making sure everything was snug, before stepping back to survey his work. "You should be resting."

Ren didn't like how this conversation was going. Or rather, it was less the conversation, and more that Doc wasn't looking at him. It felt uncomfortably intentional, like he was trying to get Ren to leave.

“I rested yesterday,” Ren informed him, like he didn’t already know. “Did you?”

“If you’re asking if I slept,” Doc said, annoyance making its way into his voice. “I did. Even if neither of you believe me.”

Ren shifted on his feet awkwardly, not knowing how to continue without saying something insulting. He glanced out towards the field, searching for a conversation topic and, finding none, leaned against the doorframe to watch Doc check the harnesses. He shoved a hand into his pocket only to yank it out again when something sharp bit into his knuckle. Ren reached back into his pocket cautiously and felt the pointed shaft of a feather. He had enough time to wonder how and when he picked up a feather, when Doc cleared his throat and started speaking again.

“So, we’re out of eggs again, and a few other things in the kitchen,” Doc said, his voice uncertain, like he was just talking to make noise, “and I need some more wood for carving. Nothing we have here is big enough, or dry. Also, it would be good to show everyone in town you’re well. You’ve got a lot of folks worried-- if you’re feeling up to a trip into town.”

“Well we would have to, right?” Ren asked, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t travel alone, my dude.”

“Shouldn’t,” Doc corrected, and Ren scowled. “Besides, I would only be alone until Horsehead Farms.”

“That’s still a long way to go in what I would describe as perfect ambush weather,” Ren ushered towards the mist-filled pasture.

“Eh, it's not that bad.”

“It’s terrible, actually.” Gem’s voice startled them both, and she grinned and waved innocently from the doorway. “Good morning.”

“I think the only ambush I have to fear around here is from you two,” Doc muttered, only sounding a little bitter. Gem smiled tensely in his direction. She looked tired, though not nearly as tired as she had the day before. Her hair was in a loose ponytail today, the bright yellow ribbon matching the embroidery on her shirt, trying to force cheer that the rest of her didn’t currently have.

Doc clambered up onto the wagon. “Well, if you’re coming, come on then.”

Before Ren could take a step, Gem was dashing into the back. “You’ve got the passenger seat! I had it last time.” 

She was up and into the wagon before Ren had a chance to protest, sprawling out in the back like she was getting ready to take a nap. Ren sighed, rolled his eyes towards the overcast sky, and got into the front seat with Doc. At a command, the wagon started on its way, and the house vanished into mist behind them before the first bend in the road.

It was a haunting ride, and quiet. Ren found himself watching the trees and making shapes in the branches, all ghosts of perils and monsters. With the walls of fog so thick around them, the road ahead seemed less a road and more a bridge; a single path of safety to some indecipherable distance. Ren could almost convince himself the world ended out there somewhere, despite the waking noises of the woods that claimed everything to the contrary. Birds sang, squirrels leaped between the tree branches, and undead, still sheltered from the rising sun, made shambling shapes in the gloom before disappearing again. Ren shivered at the pin-prick feeling of foreboding. He would be happy when the sun rose enough to burn the fog away.

"You okay?" Doc asked. His voice felt too close, pinned in by the mist.

"Yeah…" Ren sighed, tracking the silhouette of something that could have been a deer, or could have been a skeleton. He couldn't really tell; it was all just wiry contours and shadows flickering into the gloom. "I don't like the fog."

"It's pretty," Doc said doubtfully. "Well, it would be any other day, anyway."

Ren glanced up towards the trees and shrugged. "I mean, we would probably hear something coming, right?"

Doc opened his mouth-- probably to say something discouraging, since he seemed to think better of it and close his mouth again. Ren winced. Doc noticed. 

"We would hear," Doc lied weakly, and then a little more surely: "The goats would, anyway. They're good at that, you know. Animal instincts."

"It's not instincts," Ren corrected quietly, hugging himself and squinting at what he thought might be a fence post on the edge of the road.

"It's not?"

"When you're animal stupid, your head isn't cluttered with thoughts. You notice more."

"Really?"

Ren hummed an affirmative. "It feels like… thinking with your body, instead of your brain. All the senses pour in, and you react before you figure out what they mean. If you react quick enough, it doesn't matter if your first thought is wrong. What matters is you have time to react again."

"Huh," Doc gazed thoughtfully at the road. "Is that, ahm… is that what happened the other day? With the ravine?"

Ren felt embarrassment flush its way up his neck. "The wolf thinks quicker on its feet than I do."

"Do you remember what the wolf was thinking?"

Ren flushed hotter, shame joining the embarrassment already hunched on his shoulders. He screwed his eyes shut and admitted reluctantly. "It uhm… it wanted to make the scary things go away, mostly."

And it didn't care what that scary thing was.

"Doc… about Beaufort, I'm so--" his apology smothered itself against the fabric of Doc's jacket, and he found himself suddenly enfolded in a tight embrace. It was a quiet thing. Doc didn't cry, though his eyes were shut tight, and he kept one hand clasped tightly on the reins, like he thought the goats would go bolting off the second he let go. Still, the hug was encompassing and warm, and banished some of the chill of the damp morning. After a second or two of bafflement, Ren returned it, reaching an arm around to gently grab at Doc's jacket. Maybe it was that gesture, or the way Doc seemed to blanket him, but Ren felt childish. Not shamefully so. It was the nostalgic feeling of a younger brother sheltered by the responsibilities of the older, something deep and familial. It made his bones ache and tinged the feeling of safety with melancholy. Ren buried his face in Doc's shoulder.

"You must have been terrified," Doc said quietly, and Ren felt the voice more than he heard it, a rumble in his chest. "I'm so sorry, Ren."

"It wasn't your fault, Doc."

"Maybe not," Doc allowed reluctantly, his voice lingering on the words like he didn't believe them, "but if something had happened to you…"

He didn't finish the sentence, and Ren didn't really want him to. The implication was enough. Doc squeezed Ren's shoulders one more time, and then broke away from him, staring off into the mist forlornly. Behind them, Ren caught the barest hint of Gem muttering under her breath.

"Close enough."