 
### BOELIK

Amy Lehigh

Published by JLB Creatives Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 Amy Lehigh

All rights reserved.

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A breeze rippled through the forest and made the trees whisper, the dancing shadows that they created seen only by one person. Boelik sat on a mossy rock beside a burbling creek, staring at his reflection in the stream. The water from the soft moss soaked into his trousers and navy cloak, and his hand squeezed some of the dampness out as he pressed against the stone. On the soft breeze his sharp ears heard the distant sounds of the little village nearby celebrating something. He had no urge to visit.

He continued to sit in silence with his navy cloak draped about his shoulders, covering his left arm completely. He lifted his arm out from under his cloak to inspect the only thing anyone would ever be able to see when they thought of him. "Mother, why did you leave me with this?" he muttered, not for the first time, staring at the silver fur that covered his arm and at the claws that extended from his fingertips.

Boelik then turned his gaze to his reflection in the creek to spy his human hazel eyes, his human face, his human brown hair that fell to his shoulders; all of it said human. His heart said he was human, too. But every time someone saw the arm that his demon mother had cursed him with, he was pinned as a demon himself, no matter what he had done. No matter the truth.

He closed his eyes and slashed the wavering reflection in the creek to rid himself of the memories that threatened to surface. Boelik hid his silver arm back under his cloak as he got up and stalked back through the emerald forest. He stopped at a little grove with a little shed and, next to it, a little house. He remembered building it when he first came here, getting materials from the village over the course of a few weeks so as not to arouse suspicion. He had slept on the ground in the cold nights while he worked on it.

As a finished product, the house hardly reached a hand's width above his head, but he didn't mind. After all, he was also quite tall—any man he'd ever met had stood at least half a head shorter than he. In addition, the house was full of cracks and holes, and the door was a series of branches tied together and placed in the doorway. Not to mention a singular room. "Not the worst first attempt," he said as he stared at it.

The shed was added as an afterthought; Boelik liked the idea of being able to store 'extra' things, even though he had none. Instead, he used it for food storage, all of it spiced and preserved to last as long as possible. The shed, too, was quite poorly crafted.

Moving the slat that was the door, Boelik sighed at the few morsels of meat left. This, of course, meant that he had to hunt. Boelik had at least managed to make deals with the butcher and tanner in town for these occasions; he would come in with two deer, give the hides to the tanner and one deer to the butcher for some money and so that the butcher would dry and salt the other for him for free. It was how he managed to make this meager life work.

So, grabbing his carving knife from the house to whittle while he waited, he climbed a tree to lie in wait for his quarry. Stars shone in the heavens by the time Boelik managed to get his two deer. He hefted one over each shoulder and carried them back to the shed to string them up for the night. He yawned, exhausted, as he trudged back to his home. As he trod past his cold fire ring, he tossed in the fox that he'd carved.

In the morning, Boelik was awakened by sunlight streaming through one of the cracks of his house onto his face. He stretched and yawned, sitting up from his bed of deer hides. After casting a glance at the door, he picked up his beige cloak from beside the hides and, standing, put it over his navy one. He doubled the normal little brass clasp over the golden fox one that held his navy cloak.

Boelik walked out and grabbed the deer from the shed and put them onto a makeshift sled of branches, hefting the rope over his right shoulder, careful to only use his human arm. As far as the villagers knew, he didn't even have his left anymore. "And into the kettle once more," he said to himself as he trekked, his baritone voice resonating in the still air.

In the village, Boelik avoided the people who milled around as much as possible, keeping his head low. He first went to the tanner, who doubled as the skinner. Once the deer were skinned and the hides turned over as equal exchange, he headed toward the butcher's shop. On his way, a young woman danced by him, oblivious, her golden-brown hair flitting in her wake. She accidentally danced over his foot as she did, causing him to stifle a grunt as pain shot through him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she apologized swiftly, stopping. Her brown eyes shone with guilt as she faced him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Boelik replied in a soft voice, trying to stifle the groan of pain in his throat.

"Are you sure?"

"It was just my foot. I'm fine."

"All right," she said, looking at him with doubt beside her guilt. "Farewell then. Good day!" And with that, she waved as she stepped back, turned around, and started off again.

"Good day," he called after her. "Though I don't know how you can manage stepping on a stranger's foot so easily," he muttered.

Boelik soon made it to the butcher's without another mishap, had his meat cleaned and salted, and returned home with enough to last him a good while. To make it last longer, he'd mix it with the berries and fruit he foraged and the vegetables he grew in his small garden, for which he used the money from his hunts to get the seeds. For his meager dinner, he started a small fire and ate some of the new meat, listening to the birds singing in the forest. "It's peaceful here, isn't it?" he said to a little sparrow that was in the branches nearby, and it give a small chirrup in reply. "Lonely, are you?" Chirp. "I suppose I am, too." Chirp, chirp. "Would you care to join me?"

Silence.

Boelik sighed. "I suppose not, then. I'm not surprised. To you, after all, I am simply some monster who happens to be talking to you. I would wager that you could sense what I am, too. You don't even understand how I could exist, a monster like me, hm?" He heaved another sigh in the silence that answered. "Yes, I thought so." He stood and snuffed out the fire.

The familiar creek burbled as Boelik came closer. His blue cloak was tossed about by the wind, only kept in place by the fox clasp his father had given to him not long before Boelik had lost him forever. Boelik fingered the clasp, his tall frame pushing easily against the wind despite its eager endeavors. He sat on his rock and stared at his reflection in the creek, watching as little fish swam by, the spring-green moss tickling his hand when he placed it on the rock. Boelik pulled a carving knife from his boot and accompanied it with a small log he'd taken from his fire-pile. Time passed by without him as he was lost in tedium, and it was night before he finished.

"Well, it's nice to see a familiar face," Boelik said to the little wooden fox in his hand once he was finished, its small face staring back at him blankly. "Mildly familiar, I suppose. Mother had a bit more emotion to her." He sighed. "How long has it been since I had a true conversation?...I don't know." Staring at the little fox, he said, "Well, you wouldn't know, would you? You were just born."

Boelik rose and trudged back to his small grove, dogged by the shadows of the forest and his loneliness. As he passed the dead fire, he instinctively threw the small carving into the pit. He entered his pathetic home and moved the 'door' back behind him and soon fell asleep on his bed of deer hides.

As dawn's light began its sweep through the forest, Boelik stretched out of bed. "What does the morning bring me," he yawned. "Little birds again today, or shall I find some large game by chance?" Boelik walked out of his home, finally able to stretch his arms all of the way without the low roof. He made himself a breakfast of meat and berries near a small fire. When finished, he put his fire out once more and began to head for the heart of the forest, opposite the traveler's path to the village. But no further than a few steps from his grove, Boelik heard a young woman's scream come from the path.

Whipping around, his cloak fluttering absentmindedly behind him, he wondered if he truly heard what he thought he did. But while he hesitated, another scream assaulted his ears. Boelik dashed for the path, speed beyond any human's causing him to be no more than a blur in the forest. He stopped just short of the path to crouch in the bushes and assess the situation.

The young woman who had bumped into Boelik in town the previous day screamed again, eyes wide with terror. In front of her lithe frame, sprawled back on the ground and gaping in fear, was a large brown-black wolf. The beast snapped at her, and she beat its muzzle back with what seemed to be the only thing on her: a basket of apples. The fruits rolled across the ground as the wolf stumbled back for an instant, toward Boelik's hiding place. He took the chance to leap onto the wolf's back, hooking his arm around its neck and locking his long legs around its waist. It snarled in reply and was quick to retaliate.

Air whooshed out of Boelik's lungs as the wolf used its weight to crush him and make him release its throat. The maiden stared in fear as the two then stood and glared at one another. As Boelik glanced over to check on her, the wolf charged, eyes glinting with hunger as it bit into his human arm. Screaming as teeth dug into his flesh, Boelik twisted so that the woman would not see his furred arm flash out from beneath the cloak to punch the wolf between the eyes. When he was not released, he cried out and put his claws in the soft part between its chin and throat. The wolf made a gurgling growl as it stared at him with wild eyes, their light fading.

At last the beast let go, dropping to the ground, its crimson blood mixing with the red apples. Boelik cast a quick glance at the woman before running off, much closer to a proper human speed, toward his creek. He had no desire to let her see any more of him lest she run and tell the villagers of the monster in the woods. Images of fire and swords and screaming horses swept through his mind; he shoved them away and kept running.

"Wait!" the woman called. She ran after the man who saved her, the man whose foot she had—regrettably—stomped over the day before. She ducked between branches and weaved through the forest after him without hesitation. Slowing as the soft sound of flowing water appeared in her ears, she peeked through the trees to see her savior sitting on a large, shallowly slanted rock. He turned and spotted her and, in an instant, stood poised to run again.

"Don't run, please!" she said quickly as she stepped into clear view, her eyes drawn to the blood dripping from his arm.

Boelik paused. Everything in him screamed run, but instead of listening he asked, "What do you want?"

The woman gave him a strange look. "I wanted to....to, um, thank you. For rescuing me."

"Well, you've thanked me. Now you should go home."

"But... you're hurt," she said softly, her eyes shaking as she gazed at his arm, much to his surprise.

"I'm fine. It will heal."

"Not like that, it won't. Not unless you want to die of an infection."

"The creek water is clean enough. And I have cloth."

"I have better," she said, walking out to meet him. He stepped back, nearly tripping and falling into the creek.

"I'm fine. Truly," Boelik insisted, his heart pounding, yearning to accept her kindness, but he couldn't bear the thought of what her kind face would look like once it was full of fear and disgust.

"Nonsense. Come here and sit," she commanded, patting Boelik's stone. He hesitated. "I promise I won't crush your foot this time," she added with a tiny, guilty smirk.

Boelik smirked for an instant as well before tentatively stepping around her to keep her on his right when he sat. Then the woman ripped off a strip of her long, brown village skirt. The hood of her short, tawny cloak had fallen back and Boelik could clearly see her warm, brown eyes.

"What is your name?" she asked as she ripped off a second strip and soaked it in the creek to wash his wound.

"My name is Boelik."

"Boelik? A strange name, that."

"For you, maybe. I come from far away." He flinched as the cold cloth was dabbed onto the wound.

"Ah, I see," she said, continuing to clean the bite and putting her hand on his wrist to keep him from moving again. "My name is Olea."

"Olea?"

"It is inspired by the Oleander. My mother is fond of greenery of all sorts."

"I see," Boelik said, repeating Olea's words. She smiled.

There was silence between them for a while. Boelik watched as she took care of his wounds, the sounds of the wind and birds filling in the silence between them. Olea eventually glanced up at him, her gaze flicking to the clasp on his cloak. "That is quite beautiful. A fox?"

Boelik nodded. "My father was... fond...of foxes." So much so that he fell in love with one that had nine tails.

"I see." Then, as she finished cleaning the wound, "There. Now we can wrap it up. Hold still just a little longer."

"All right," Boelik yawned. Fighting and running with such ferocity had drained him for the day; now that his adrenaline was draining, fatigue was taking its place.

"It isn't even midday. Are you tired already?" Olea said, a mild tease in her voice.

Boelik looked at her with a hint of amusement. "It is exhausting saving the damsel in distress, you know."

"Well, at least this damsel doesn't throw herself at you," she replied with a huff. "I like to repay favors."

"Rather than simply accepting them?" Boelik said, and she nodded, wrapping the large strip of cloth around his arm.

"There we are. Feel any better?" she asked. Boelik stretched his arm a bit before nodding. It still throbbed, but the pain had dulled.

"Thank you," he said, putting his arm down. Olea gave him a small smile.

"You're quite welcome." Glancing back through the trees, she said, "I should return home now. Though, I will need to get more apples before that. They all became soiled after the fight and being thrown about."

"I saw that. You didn't do too badly fending off that wolf. Though I wouldn't recommend using a basket as a consistent weapon," Boelik suggested with a smirk.

"Oh, come off it; I only had the basket," Olea muttered. Boelik laughed.

When was the last time I laughed? He thought vaguely.

Recomposing himself, he said, "Well, either way, I'll need to go and fetch that wolf later. That pelt should make for a nice bed, if not fetch a pretty price." Olea nodded. "But, before then, I could accompany you to the apple trees and to the edge of the woods again. That way you needn't worry about predators."

"That would be nice," she agreed.

The pair walked back to the path, and Olea picked up her basket. Boelik took a moment to kick the apples off the road and drag the wolf off the path as well. Then they walked to the apple trees, and Olea began to fill her basket, which was surprisingly intact.

While she picked, Boelik and she talked amiably, a spark of friendship igniting. Eventually, Olea adorned Boelik with a shorter name: Bo. "It's quite long and strange to me, your name," she had said. "Could I call you 'Bo' instead?"

"Of course," he had replied. "I don't mind."

Finally, Boelik escorted Olea to the edge of the woods. "Shall I see you in town tomorrow?" Olea asked, her golden hair shining like a halo in the evening light. It would be an understatement to say that they'd dallied in their errand.

Boelik shook his head. "I won't often come into the village. I enjoy my life out here, away from people," he explained. It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't quite a lie, either.

"Then shall I come back and see you?" Olea asked. Boelik shifted and bit the inside of his cheek for a moment as he avoided the woman's gaze.

"You can if you like."

"I would like to. How shall I find you?"

Boelik looked at her. "If you call for me, I'll come," he replied at last. He was hesitant to show her his home. Fire and blades still danced in his memory from when he was last discovered.

Still, Olea nodded. "All right. Then I'll see you tomorrow about midday," she said, waving a farewell. Boelik waved a small farewell in return, hiding the fire in his arm as he did. Then he turned to fetch the wolf's carcass, and he brought it back to his home.

He ended up taking the rest of the day carefully skinning the wolf despite his fatigue and pain. Boelik didn't want to waste the fur, but he didn't want to go into town for the skinner, either. And once he did finish, he decided to try the meat. It wasn't exactly his best meal, but Boelik refused to waste food, so it was stored in the shed and salted to keep from spoiling.

The next day Boelik woke and rekindled his fire to have his breakfast. He ate and then went to the edge of his grove to find a broken branch, bringing it back so he could sit next to the fire as he pulled his knife from his boot. As the sun inched higher in the sky, Boelik listened to his surroundings and carved into the branch. Around midday, his ears caught a strange sound on the wind.

Someone was calling his name.

Tossing the stick in the fire, the scrolling picture of a bird flying was consumed by the flames as he ran to the edge of the forest.

Reaching the end of the trees, Boelik slowed. As he emerged, Olea smiled at him. "Hello, Bo," she greeted him.

"Hello, Olea," he replied.

"How is your arm?"

"Fine."

"Still sore?"

Boelik shrugged. "Not the worst I've had."

A few moments passed before Olea said anything. "Why did you look so surprised when you saw me?" she asked, an amused glint in her warm eyes.

"Did I?" When she nodded, Boelik said, "Well, I suppose I didn't actually expect you to come."

Olea shook her head, tutting at him. "I said I would, didn't I? What, did you expect that I would lie?"

"No, that's not it," Boelik said, taking a step back. "I was just..." he sighed. I was just expecting to be alone again. "Never mind. You are here. What do you want?"

Raising an eyebrow at him, she replied, "Nothing. Well, not really nothing. I just wanted to talk, I suppose."

Boelik glanced around a moment, making sure that this wasn't some sort of trap. Returning his attention to her, Boelik said, "Then talk."

"What?"

"You said you wanted to talk. What about? I certainly don't have anything to converse about."

"Oh. Well, um... hm..." Olea started, putting a hand to her chin. "Can we walk while we talk, then?" Boelik shrugged and followed her as she led the way down the trail between the trees, making her way to a hill where Boelik liked to sit to watch the sun set.

"Do you come here often?" he asked as she sat on the hill, the green grass spread in fields before her.

"No, not anymore. I did some time ago, but I've been staying in the village more as I've aged."

"I see," Boelik replied, sitting on her left, some distance away from her. "That's a shame. These woods are quite beautiful, especially around this time of year. As are the sunsets," he added, nodding out to the horizon where the sun would be.

"And you said you had nothing to talk about," she accused.

"I don't."

"Hah! Liar."

"The forest is not a conversation topic that most would find interesting, I believe."

"Well, am I most? Because, the last time I checked, I was a singular woman. And I like the forest," Olea said.

Boelik snorted. "You like your family and your friends and your village celebrations and hunts. That is your home, after all, as this forest is for me. And in the same way that you describing the village to me would be redundant, my describing the forest to you would be redundant. We've shared nothing of each but for this and the plaza."

Olea glared at him, scrunching her nose. "Now, see here; it may be redundant to share words on one another's living place, but we've shared more than this and the plaza now. We shared the orchard, the trail, the stream, and the woods between it all—in each other's company, nonetheless." Her eyes sparkled as she seemed to think of something. "And, speaking of village celebrations, we're having one tonight. We could share that together, and then we'd certainly have something to talk about."

"I think not."

"And why not?"

Now it was his turn to glare. "I am not fond of people, Olea. Least of all large gatherings of them."

"Oh, come on. There's a dance as well."

"That is worse," he replied, his statement blunt.

Olea sighed, turning her gaze out to the fields. "All right. I won't force anything."

"When will you be leaving for that, then?" Boelik asked after a few moments of silence.

"Leaving?" Olea scoffed, facing him once more. "Boelik, you honestly expect that I would leave you all alone out here on a night of celebration?"

Boelik blinked. "Yes?"

Olea shook her head, her golden hair bobbing. "No. Now, where's that playful, bantering Bo that I met yesterday?"

A small smirk tugged at Boelik's mouth. "You mean the one that suggests that you get a sturdier basket from now on?"

Giving him a flat glare, Olea muttered, "Yes. That's the one."

Laughing, Boelik guarded himself from a pebble that Olea tossed his way. "You asked for it," he laughed.

"You are a mean man." Olea crossed her arms and turned her head away from him, and he laughed harder. She glanced back at him, smiling herself.

"Ah, I suppose you do deserve some credit. After all, that basket did hold up for you," Boelik sighed finally, his laughter fading to an occasional chuckle.

"Thank you. I don't know that that is actually a compliment, but I'll be taking it as one," she said. Overhead, the sun crept across the sky as their words filled the air, the atmosphere warming and cooling as the day passed by. The blue above paled and turned to yellow, and slowly to a harmless fire.

Olea finally glanced up to see the sunset, and gasped at the sight. "What?" Boelik asked, glancing out to the sun as well. The fields shimmered in gold from the light and the breeze, and the forest beyond was rimmed in a bright orange.

"It's beautiful," she replied, staring out at it. "I remembered it being so, but it's been so long...the village doesn't see this, not as it is here, now."

"There are a lot of things you people see differently," Boelik said, following her gaze.

"Why did you say that in that way?" Olea asked, turning to furrow her brow at him.

"In what way?" Boelik asked, turning back to the forest as his ears picked up the sounds of music on the breeze. The celebration was starting in the village.

"Like you were sad, or bitter. Why?"

"I believe that that was your imagination, my lady." Boelik turned to her and gave her a gentle smile. "Anyhow, I believe you're missing your dance. I'm sure someone is waiting for one with you at your celebration."

"Fie on the celebration!" Olea said, standing. Boelik blinked as she approached him, holding out her hand. "We can dance right here. Or am I more frightening than a wolf?" she asked, brown eyes glinting with mischief.

"Ha," Boelik huffed, standing. "You, Olea, are no more frightening than a butterfly. But, you must promise me one thing if I dance with you."

"What?" she asked, her mischief turning to honest confusion.

"No stomping on my feet."

Laughing, Olea nodded. "Do you know the steps, then?"

"I have watched. Though you should still lead, I think."

"Oh, I will," she said, taking his hand.

***

Days passed, and the two continued to meet. They took strolls through the forest, and Boelik shared his favorite spots with her. Weeks continued, and Olea taught him how to dance. Months began, and Boelik's bandages came off.

One evening as the pair watched the sunset from the hill, sitting near one another, Olea leaned her head against Boelik's shoulder. The light from the sun burned everything in the plains red, making it almost like a crimson sea beneath them, the trees whispering at their backs. "Bo?" Olea asked.

"Yes, Olea?"

"I love you."

Boelik started, hesitating a moment before even opening his mouth. "I think you should go home now."

Olea was silent. Then she rose, and Boelik walked her to the edge of the forest, silence enveloping them as even the forest had nothing to add but the scent of blossoms. Olea began walking down the path to the village when Boelik said, "Olea?" and she turned around.

"...I love you, too."

Olea beamed so widely that she seemed to be a single ray of light. From there, she ran up and hugged him, and as he wrapped his arm around her she said, "You should talk to my father and tell him you want to marry me then! He'll accept, I know he will. Especially if I tell him that I love you, too."

"I have nothing for trade, though," Boelik said, furrowing his brow.

Olea pushed herself back from him in a moment of inspiration. "The wolf's pelt!" she exclaimed. "You didn't sell it, did you?"

Boelik shook his head. "No. I will give him that, then. But are you sure you will settle for this imperfect man?" he asked.

Olea looked at him in adoration. "Every man is imperfect, Bo. None can ever be otherwise. But you are the closest there is." Then she put her hand on his cheek as he glanced away sheepishly. "Promise me I'll see you in the village tomorrow?"

"I promise. Now go home, before you anger your father and he never lets you marry any man. Or worse, gives you to the next one he sees."

The next day, Boelik walked into the village, his beige cloak draped over his frame and hood cast over his face, carrying the wolf hide over his shoulder. He was greeted by the sight of a large crowd in the village plaza, waves of voices churning in the late afternoon air. Fortunately, he could see over most of the people with ease. In the center of the crowd was a man riding a horse that was black as sin adorned with the royal crest of a raven, followed by several sword paladins on bays. Curious, Boelik tuned into the whispers of the crowd.

"It's prince Mar!"

"Captain of the King Olamis's knights and a prince!"

"Isn't he a handsome one?"

At last, Boelik tuned into something interesting. "They say he's a hero."

"What for?"

"Saving villages or something."

"What's he here for, then?"

"Patrol, I'd wager. Captain of the guard out to patrol the whole kingdom once in his life. Double if he's prince, too. Not like it's a big one to begin with."

Boelik returned his gaze to the man on the black—to the prince. "A hero, huh?" he muttered under his breath.

The prince had pale skin and black hair, a lean build, and pale green eyes that seemed to analyze everything and find it all to be lacking. A sword was sheathed on his belt. Then he spoke, hushing the crowd. "Hello. I am prince Mar, as you may well know." His voice resonated with a cold tone that made Boelik scowl from under his hood. "As you may not know, I am searching the land for a wife," he said, pausing as he locked his gaze onto something. "And I think I may have just found her." He walked his horse over to the side of the crowd and held out his hand.

"No, no," a woman's voice said, bashful. She was obscured from Boelik by the prince's steed and the crowd. "I'm quite fine here, thank you."

"Nonsense. You shall be my bride and have the most wonderful jewels to accent your beautiful frame and never go hungry in the winter. Does that not sound like a good offer?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not interested in jewels, and I love my life here." The woman was quite firm now.

Mar's face darkened. "I'm afraid you do not have a choice, my dear. You will be my bride, and you will love your life with me." The rat that masqueraded as a prince began trying to pull the poor woman to his horse's back.

Forcing his way through the crowd, Boelik growled at the man. "Leave the woman alone."

"And who commands me?" Mar challenged, glaring at Boelik, who removed his hood, careful not to drop the pelt draped over his shoulder.

"I do."

"You?" the prince sneered, not letting go of his woman but turning his steed enough to face Boelik, giving him a good view of her. She saw him as well. "You look like a mere robber. I would bet that you have stolen from half of these people."

"You're wrong!" Olea cried, tugging her wrist in vain to break free of Mar's iron grasp as she looked with pleading eyes to Boelik. "That man is fair and honest and kind! He has stolen nothing from the people here!"

"Oh, nothing you say?" Mar said, his cold eyes boring down at her. "Because it sounds to me like he has stolen your heart; I think I shall just have to take it back."

Casting Olea aside, Mar trotted his steed over to Boelik and leaned into his face. "You are undeserving of such a beautiful woman. She will be mine, you filthy lowlife," he hissed. "And then if still she is not content, I will put her to work in the kitchens until she appreciates the life I gave her."

Boelik's lip turned up in a snarl as fury pulsed through him, and in an instant his fist had met Mar's face, the pelt dropping from his shoulder. As Mar jerked back Boelik snarled, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I mar that pretty face of yours? Maybe you should say that again so that I can make it look like it should, you vagabond." Boelik was quivering with anger, and Mar was staring at him, wide-eyed with rage, his hand on his jaw.

"How dare you hit me, rat!" he yelled, jerking his horse forward and attempting to grab Boelik. But, without thinking, Boelik stepped backward into the crowd as Mar grabbed his beige cloak and the navy one underneath.

As they pulled free of him and floated to the ground, Boelik felt a breeze around both arms. In another instant, a woman began to scream and Boelik slowly looked down at his left arm as if in a dream. Then, as he realized what was happening, everything sped back up to reality.

Bo glanced over at Olea, frightened for a moment of what she might think of him. But before either got to say anything, Mar yelled, "Monster! Men, kill this beast!" and Bo was off running to the woods, the knights on his heels.

"Wait!" Olea screamed after them, stumbling to a run, picking up Bo's things on the way. She ran after the knights and the man she thought she'd known, hoping to stop the absurd hunt. "Wait!" she yelled again, bursting through the hole that the men had made in the crowd and up to the forest.

Olea made it into the woods following the horse tracks, discarding Bo's belongings by the edge. "I can't carry these things fast enough, Bo, I'm sorry. They'll be there," she muttered as she continued to run. She followed the trail of destruction the horses left behind in the forest at a pace she knew she couldn't keep, hoping with all of her heart that Bo wouldn't be caught and quartered before she got to him.

***

Bo's heart pounded as he ran just fast enough to keep ahead of the horses. That was the good thing his mother gave him, he'd always thought; the speed to get away from those who saw his defect and desired to rip him apart as if he were some beast. As far as he was concerned, it was the human race that was the beast—if something was unfavorable or difficult to understand, they lashed out to kill it just the same.

Bo raced through the bushes and over rocks and branches, finding the narrowest routes he could to try and stop the horses. But they were relentless. The knights were fox hunters, and Bo was the prize that they would stop at nothing to gain and destroy.

He remembered well the first time he had been chased like this. He had been no more than eight. A village mother had seen his arm and had shouted about a monster trying to attack her son. Then she had pointed at him. And from there, the hunt was on. The village had picked up every torch and sharp blade it had, hoping to destroy him. Bo had only wanted to have a playmate. Living with his fox-demon mother and seeing the boy play with parents that looked like him, Bo had wanted to join. But he'd left his arm uncovered, despite his mother's warnings, unperturbed himself by how it appeared. That night he had been chased back to his mother's side. At the sight of the villagers, she had made herself look the size of a home and had whipped her nine tails menacingly. And when she couldn't scare them off...

Bo had kept his mother, but the village had paid the price. As soon as he could after that, he left her side, and she bade him a tearful farewell. But Bo resolved then that he would find a way to live in coexistence with humans. "I don't want anyone else to die because of me," he had told her, stroking the tears from her fur.

Now, though, he had no mother to defend him, and he was going to die.

***

Olea stumbled through the woods, desperately trying to find the trail that she lost. "Bo!" she cried into the woods, branches whipping her in the face as she rushed. She finally stumbled over a root and dug into the ground. Trying for a moment to get up, she was suddenly tackled by despair and hopelessness. Olea began to sob then, her feelings washing over her as she curled into a ball. "Bo..." she wept, "...I'll never make it. I can't save you. I can't even keep myself from getting lost, let alone stop Mar."

Just then, though, Olea heard a muffled sound. Her gaze shot up and she blinked away the tears in her eyes to see something she wouldn't have noticed before; a little home. It was overgrown with plant life—so much so that it was hardly recognizable as someone's dwelling. But there was a little light shining through the crack of a door.

"Bo?" Olea whispered, staggering to her feet with a sniffle. She walked over to the house and knocked on the grassy door, the sound echoing in the woods.

Soon the door was opened by a lithe, young woman. "Yes?" she said in a kind voice, gray eyes scanning Olea in a way that betrayed her tone. Her hair was a silvery white, and she wore a simple dress adorned with flowers and herbs. She smelled of them as well.

"I'm looking...for a man named Boelik," Olea choked.

"I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name," the woman said. "But come in. You seem like you've been through quite the ordeal."

Olea shook her head. "No, I can't. I have to help him."

The woman gave her a quizzical look, cocking her head slightly and raising an eyebrow. "What for?"

"The prince thinks he's some monster, and so Boelik is being hunted by him right now."

"And is he a monster?"

Olea paused. "He has a strange arm. But Bo is no monster."

"And?" the woman pried, sensing something more.

"And I love him."

The woman smiled. "Now, that is worth my help. My name is Helena. Come in, and we'll see how I can help you."

Olea stepped in tentatively, and Helena closed the door. There were workbenches and strange herbs and liquids in vials scattered through the house. The house itself had a hundred different scents that assaulted Olea's nose.

"So, do you know where he might be?" Helena asked, going over to a shelf filled with the vials, lifting and turning some to better inspect their contents.

"No, I lost the trail some while back."

"Well, then I have just the thing," Helena said, bringing over a golden liquid in a small gourd-shaped vial. "Hold this, please."

"Okay," Olea said, carefully taking the bottle between her hands.

Helena grabbed a long, twisted stick from where it leaned against a workbench.

"Why are you bringing a stick?"

"Staff," Helena corrected. "I'm a white witch, dear." She walked over to Olea's side and held her around the waist. "Now, drink the vial and imagine your Bo on his given path. We should appear a few strides ahead of him, so be prepared to step aside."

Olea looked over at her and nodded, uncorking the vial and downing it. She closed her eyes and envisioned Bo. A breeze churned around her and there was a bout of nausea for a moment, and then both were gone. Opening her eyes, she and Helena instantly parted as Bo ran through them, skidding to a stop.

"Olea?" he exclaimed, breathless, whipping around.

"Bo!" she cried, throwing her arms around him. He started at her touch.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he refrained from returning the embrace.

"Helping you. This is Helena; she helped me find you."

Helena did a little wave as Bo peered over at her. "Hello. Now, I believe we have a prince to throw off?" Bo and Olea separated and nodded. "All right then. Now, hide behind those bushes, both of you," she commanded, pointing to some bushes next to a broad tree. "I'll be up in the branches of this tree. Don't come out until I tell you to, and then seem as threatening as you can."

"What are you going to do?" Bo asked.

"I'm going to shake a powder from my staff that I mixed to scare off troublemakers. It makes a person see anything as its most horrifying possibility. For example, I would seem a horrid black witch," Helena said with a mischievous smirk.

Bo nodded. "I understand. You don't want us to fear one another."

"Right. Naturally, the effects wear off after some time, but by then you may have damaged the way you see one another." In a moment, the trio heard crashing coming from the surrounding forest and heading straight for them. "Hurry!" Helena hissed, sprinting to the tree and rushing upward.

The three got into their spots and hid, keeping even their breaths to a minimum. Soon Mar and his paladins were in earshot, and the horses had come to a halt. "Where is it?" Mar yelled. Bo tensed beside Olea, who sidled closer to him and stifled a whimper. The leaves almost completely blocked the pair's view. "Where did the creature go?"

"I don't know, sir. The tracks seem to end here."

"Then it must be—" Mar was interrupted by a bout of coughing, and his men soon joined him. Even the horses began to sneeze.

"Now!" Helena's voice came. Bo and Olea jumped up and jerked around, trying to look as frightening as possible. Bo even made animalistic noises that alone would have scared Olea. The men and horses screamed, immediately bolting in the other direction.

Once sure that the hunters were gone, the trio regrouped on the ground, the stars winking into existence in the dusk. Crickets surrounded the group, their chirping filling the air.

"We did it," Olea sighed.

"Barely," Bo said. Helena smacked him on the shoulder with her staff. "Ow! What was that for?" he growled, shooting her a glare.

"What do you say to the lady?" Helena pressed, unperturbed by Bo's cranky face.

Bo looked at Olea, the irritation already gone from his gaze. "Thank you for the assistance."

"You're welcome," she replied, coming over and leaning against his left side, putting his clawed arm over her shoulder.

"I'm glad you aren't afraid of me," he mumbled. He pressed his face to the top of her head and closed his eyes as he breathed her scent.

"Why would I be afraid of the man I love?" she said softly, burying her face in his fur in turn.

Helena gazed upon them quietly, a small smile on her face. She came over to Bo and whispered a proposal in his other ear. He looked at her and nodded, a sparkle in his hazel eyes. He turned his eyes back to the exhausted Olea beside him and gave a soft smile.

Bo whispered back to the witch, "We will do it by my creek," and gave her directions. "Olea?" Bo asked then, turning to his friend.

"Yes, Bo?" she said, her voice muffled through his fur. She turned her face so that one of her warm brown eyes was visible.

"Would you like to stay with me, at least for the night?"

Olea nodded. Then, "Bo?"

"Yes?"

"Your things are about where you entered the forest in the chase."

"All right."

Olea stifled a yawn as she glanced over to Helena. "Thank you."

Helena nodded once, a smile on her face.

"Let's get you home," Bo said, sweeping Olea off of her feet, startling her to full wakefulness.

"I can walk," she protested. "And what about Helena?"

"Already home," Helena said, disappearing before them in an instant, only an echo of her voice remaining to vouch for her existence.

"All right," Olea relented.

As Bo carried her to his home, he hummed a lullaby to her to put her to sleep. He was careful not to jostle her too much as he walked. Her hair cascaded over his arm as he cradled her head, and he found that for the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged where he was.

When Bo finally put her in his bed, she was deeply asleep. He smiled and went to fetch his things from where Olea said they were, returning quickly and putting the wolf fur over her as a blanket. He pulled a separate deer hide from the shed and put it on the floor to sleep on that beside her.

In the morning, Bo was up at dawn and found the wolf fur draped over him and Olea sitting up in bed. "Up so early? You seemed exhausted," he yawned.

"I was. But light shone onto my face from a crack."

"Oh, that's right. I'm sorry; I usually use that to rouse me so I can make the most of the day." Bo sat up and stretched from the hide. Looking out toward the leaks of sun from the walls, he asked, "Would you like to come with me on a walk?"

"Yes," Olea replied. The two got up, and Bo put on his cloak with the fox clasp over his left arm as usual. Olea stared at him, one eyebrow raised. He looked himself up and down before giving her a quizzical scowl in return. She rolled her eyes and adjusted the navy cloak so that it was even on both sides.

Outside, the two walked to the creek, where Olea took a seat and Bo sat next to her. She was on his left. "Would you marry me?" he asked, his heart full of unfounded fear.

"Of course," Olea replied, leaning against him without the slightest hesitation.

He grinned, his heart now lighter than air, and shouted to the woods as he wrapped his arms around her. "She said she would!"

"Bo!" she laughed. Suddenly, Helena appeared before them, emerging from behind a large oak. "Helena!"

"Hello, dear. So, you said yes, did you?"

Olea grinned at Bo, who beamed back. "I did."

"Well, would you like to take your vows?"

"Oh, yes, please!" Olea said.

The pair stood and took their vows with Helena as their priestess, the birds singing in the branches as the light of the sun cascaded through the trees. They kissed to tie their bonds, and as Olea leaned back, she grinned with sparkling eyes as she looked into Bo's. "And they lived..."

Bo grinned. "...happily ever after."

***

Olea sat at the table Bo had crafted for the new cottage he built in the first year of their union, her hand on her growing belly as she stared at the hearth. Bo sat on the other side, sharpening his knife. The only sounds in the cabin were the crackling of the fire and the sound of Bo's knife as he struck it against the whet stone in a practiced rhythm.

"Bo, I know you won't age like me," she said without warning. Bo looked up at her from the other side of the table, his eyes wide with surprise, his carving knife poised for another strike against the stone. Olea only gazed down at her belly with loving eyes. "In only five years I can see that."

"Yes?"

"So, how much older are you than I?" Olea asked.

Bo sighed and put his blade and stone on the table. "You are of five and twenty years, correct?" Olea nodded, eyes shining with curiosity. "I am only about ten years ahead of you."

"Ten! You look no further than three."

Bo shrugged. "That's when I stopped seeming to age."

"Well, then, will you outlive me?"

"Surely."

"Our child?"

Bo nodded.

"And further?"

Bo finally looked away, his hazel eyes dark. "I will live for a very, very long time if it is only age that tries to take me."

"But you don't want to?"

Bo met her gaze, his hazel eyes level with her brown ones. "If I were to die, and our child after comparatively few years, would you want to continue to live?"

Olea broke eye contact this time, giving another motherly glance at her belly. "I suppose not. No; I know I would not." Bo sat back in his chair with a sigh and put a hand through his long hair. "But Bo, you could watch over our children," Olea suggested. He tilted his head, and she laughed at how he looked like a wondering puppy.

"What do you mean, Olea?"

"I mean, you can watch our children after I am gone. And their children after them. You can be a family protector," she insisted. Bo leaned forward and put his elbow on the table, his human hand holding his chin as he thought.

"It would be a long time before you saw me again."

"I would wait. I am patient. And I could watch over you."

"I'd miss you," Bo admitted after a moment, an apologetic smirk on his face.

"And I would miss you," Olea agreed. "But you'd see us both in every child, if you looked. So you could always see me, whenever you wanted to." Bo's mouth twitched into a smile.

"How did I end up with such a lovely woman?" he asked.

"You asked," Olea replied with a grin.

Bo stood and leaned over the small table to give her a peck on the forehead. "And I received. I'll be back in time for dinner," he said as he stood back and donned his two cloaks.

"Going hunting?"

"Of course. How do you feel about rabbit for tomorrow?"

"I feel like it would go wonderfully with some fresh vegetables if they'd grow quickly enough."

"We've only just finished planting the seeds. It might be a while before we get anything worth eating."

"I know. But you did ask how I felt about rabbit." Her eyes sparkled playfully in the light of the candle that sat on the table.

Bo grinned. "I'll be back soon." And he opened the door to head out.

True to his word, Bo was back by dinnertime. His silver hand carried two rabbits as he walked back into his grove. He put the prey in the little shed, glancing over at his old house. It was tiny, with hardly enough room to stretch. It was also quite pitiful in appearance, with a barrier of branches as a door and cracks everywhere.

Inside he'd had a small place for his pelt-bed, a place to pace, and a chair to sit on while he carved whatever he needed along with the little figures that he crafted to talk to from time to time. He'd taken the chair to the new home. The little figures were long burned—often the night they were made—though Bo had made a few for Olea now.

He turned away to look over at his new home. It was a stark contrast to the little hovel he'd built. This home was far larger: with room enough for a bed of hide, an area to cook indoors, a place to sit and eat, and room enough to dance on Olea's whim.

It held a stew pot and fireplace, and Bo had made a table and another chair. Any cracks in the walls were filled with clay, the door was a real door, and Bo could at last stretch his arms indoors.

Bo walked inside and saw Olea tending the stew. He was thankful that she'd returned to the village and gotten supplies from her parents. Of course, Mar hadn't come back through the village after he was scared off, so it was easy enough to convince the villagers that he'd killed Bo and given up on her as a wife. Then she managed to convince them that she'd married a farmer not far from the village, and Bo had bartered for a calf with the wolf pelt, and he traded the calf for Olea.

Of course, Bo being 'dead' meant that he had had to have Olea remake his deals with the skinner and tanner in his place, and that she had to act as though he were a sickly sort of man. This was the only way the people would not question her coming alone every time she came into the village. But it still gave her pleasure to visit her family on those trips, and it was that alone that kept Bo from moving again.

Olea turned from the fire with a smile as Bo entered, her lithe form broken by the lump in her belly. Her golden hair was lit up by the fire behind, which was now the only light in the house, and Bo smiled at her while he replaced the door behind him. She glanced down at his hand and her smile disappeared, replaced with a raised, speculating eyebrow and a hand on her hip. Bo looked at his now-crimson-furred hand, covered in rabbit's blood.

"Boelik?"

"Yes?" he replied sheepishly, avoiding her eyes.

"Wash yourself before you eat, please."

"Right," Bo said, an abashed smile on his face. He moved over to the little urn of water beside the table and dipped his hand in, rubbing the other over it for a minute before pulling it out relatively clean. He looked over at Olea quizzically and held it up to show her. She nodded.

"Now we can eat," she said. She ladled some stew into a bowl and handed it to Bo. He set it at Olea's place at the table and then came back to get the second bowl, which he sat down with. Olea came soon after and they ate in patient silence for a while.

"The sun will set soon. Do you want to go out and see it?" Bo asked near the end of the meal.

Olea swallowed the mouthful of stew she had before answering. "I think that would be wonderful." Bo nodded.

After another few moments of silence, Olea asked, "Was the hunting good today?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry about the blood from earlier as well. I'll change the water tomorrow."

"Speaking of tomorrow, could we go to the apple orchard? I think that they should be ripe enough about now."

"Of course. But remember that a basket does not make a good weapon." Bo's eyes glinted playfully at Olea in the dim light from across the table.

"You cruel man," Olea squeaked, indignant, though a grin was breaking out over her face. "That is five years past!"

Bo laughed. "But I clearly remember. That basket was certainly quite durable for the situation."

"Well, now I have you, I don't need to worry about that, do I?"

"Not anymore."

It wasn't long before dinner was finished. In fact, it was just in time for the two to take the path out of the forest and sit on the hill at the edge of the forest as the sun set. Olea rested her head on Bo's shoulder as they basked in the light of the blazing sky. A breeze made the trees whisper behind them and made the grass ahead appear as though it crashed in waves like a great, fiery ocean.

"You realize I wouldn't trade a day of this life for anything, don't you?" Olea whispered.

"I know," Bo replied, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. He gently laid his other hand on her belly. He couldn't help worrying if he would be a good father, or if his child would be twisted like himself.

And Olea was very good at picking out his doubts. "You'll be just fine," she said. She put her own hand over Bo's. He sighed. "She's almost here, you know."

"She?" Bo asked, blinking at her. Olea was still gazing out at the sunset but nodded against his shoulder.

"Maybe a he, too."

"Two?"

"Yes, Bo. Two. Twins."

"How long?" Bo was getting excited, and Olea could hear it. She laughed.

"Around a fortnight, perhaps? I don't know exactly; they'll come when they're ready, whether or not we are."

"Then I suppose I should do this now," he grinned, standing and bringing her to her feet with him.

"Bo?"

"May I have this dance with you?" Bo asked, pulling her close.

"I'm not sure. Can you keep up?" Olea challenged, brown eyes sparkling. The two separated and wound around each other, Bo's voice humming a melody for their steps. They moved lightly as birds as they danced, Olea's laugh rising in the air. The wind wound around them, leading them in their joy.

As the sun disappeared completely, Bo pulled his tired wife to him. He kissed her, showing his love as she'd taught him how. "You realize," she said, pulling away from him, "you weren't this good when we got married."

"Well, that was my first kiss."

***

It was a week later when Bo went hunting again. He sensed that ground animals were becoming something of a mindless tedium at dinner, so he decided he'd go find some nesting quail for both fowl and eggs. He headed out to the fields where he and his wife would watch the sunset to search. The sun was beginning to set, and still Bo had not found his quarry. He wandered further still, out to the plains where he was sure he would find some of his prize. The trees groaned from the woods as a howling wind began to stir, and thunder cracked overhead. Determined to find something, he continued a bit further.

Sheets of rain began to fall before Bo decided that the hunt was off for today. Thunder cracked again, and he thought he heard something else in the rumble. He paused for a moment, letting himself get soaked as he listened under the wind and rain. The sound came again and sent him into a sprint for home.

His wife screamed.

Bo was a blur through the trees. He prepared his claws for a fight, and emerged in a moment at his grove to find the door of his house splintered on the ground and a creature stalking around outside. It looked like a large lizard, with black fur and red eyes and long legs that gave it an ungainly movement.

Bo shouted and leapt at the demon, catching it behind the head. He realized, as it attempted to snap back at him, that its muzzle glinted a damp scarlet, and its breath stank of decay.

With a well-placed strike to its throat, Bo dispatched the creature before running into his house. He stopped at the door frame as if it were a wall, putting his hand on it to support himself as his stomach flipped. "No," he managed after a moment.

There was blood all over the kitchen.

"No."

The stew put was boiling over.

"It can't..."

Black fur was scattered around.

"You can't..."

Olea was lying on the ground.

"You can't leave me."

Her eyes were open and blank.

"You can't just leave like this."

Her belly was ripped apart.

"You can't just leave me!" Bo wailed. His knees gave out and he slid to the ground and stared at his wife, at the cavern in her body where his children once waited, through wavering vision. He wailed to her, the wind and rain drowning out his cries. He felt sick, from the sight, from the blood of his wife's murderer on his hands.

"Why do I have to be alone?" he asked in a trembling whimper.

Because you were never supposed to be in the first place, something inside of him hissed back as thunder clapped.

He stared at Olea's pale corpse, her beautiful face, once full of life and warmth, contorted in horror. He looked at her open belly and the blood that seemed to be everywhere, even on himself. The beast hadn't just killed her; it had devoured her in the most barbaric way it could, ripping her apart from the center. It had only feasted from there.

His children. Twins. Like Olea, and like him.

He didn't even have the bodies to bury.

Bo cried himself to sleep in the doorway, letting the storm drown everything out. When he woke, the morning was cold and gray. No birds sang. He looked at the kitchen; everything was as he'd last seen. He staggered to his feet and walked outside. The beast he'd killed was where he'd left it.

He passed through the woods without a word. No tears bothered him as he staggered through the trees, and his gut was tight. Even the air was stagnant.

Emerging through the forest at the hill where Olea and he so often watched the sunset, Bo let himself slide to the ground. He sat there, legs crossed, his blue cloak still over his back, and stared out toward the fleeing darkness of the night. It was some time before he dimly realized that something was poking him.

Bo reached into his boot to remove the irritant, finding his carving knife. The blade was sharp as he held it in his hand, fingering the tip with his thumb as he looked at the sky. The sun crept slowly across the heavens from behind him. I was used to being alone once. I don't want to get used to it again.

Finally Bo came to a decision as he heard something like thunder approaching. He pressed the tip of the knife over his heart and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he drew it away from him. As he readied to break his own heart for the last time, the land shook beneath him, and his eyes flung open, the weapon falling from his hand.

Before him was a large beast, a huge golden eye on par with Bo's hazel ones, an equine's pupil in the center, its head turned like a bird's. A single horn graced the middle of its forehead, an undulating ivory spear. The beast was covered in white fur, a long tail swishing behind it; not as though on a hunt, but more as in patience. Two large, feathered wings emerged from its back, arched peacefully. The only revealing feature of what lay beneath the behemoth's fur was its lower jaw; it had no fur, and instead lay beset with black scales.

Bo sat like a statue and looked into the dragon's eye. They stared at each other for some time before one spoke.

"You are sad," came a breathless voice. Bo started. The beast had not moved its mouth, and the deep, calming voice had seemed to come from everywhere. "Why? What has moved you to believe your life has no worth?"

"I am alone," Bo replied, his voice trembling. A tear fell from his eye as his heart ached. The dragon tilted its head.

"I am also alone. Why is this so sad? Many creatures live alone."

Bo shook his head, closing his eyes. He saw Olea's face, alive and happy. "I am not alone by choice. My family was killed." Never again would he see that smile.

"That is sad. But, you are not your family." Bo looked at the dragon, furrowing his brow and scowling. "You have a purpose."

"What? To be a monster, and to live my life alone? I would rather finish what I started." Bo turned his gaze to the fallen blade for a moment.

"No!" The dragon said, attracting Bo's gaze again. Then, "I have seen it. You have a duty to fulfill. It is why I am here."

"A duty?" Bo asked.

"Yes. Do you think I would be here otherwise, talking to you in daylight where humans can see me?" Bo just blinked at him, skeptical.

"What duty do I have? Could I possibly have?"

"That of a mentor. There are others like you, you know. Others who do not understand themselves, who fear themselves. Who need to understand how to control what they've been given rather than hide from it. One in particular will need your guidance."

"How can I help anyone? I am broken: look at me. Do I look like I can train anyone in anything but misery?" Bo clutched at his heart with his furred hand, his eyes pleading for release.

"Do not pity yourself. You had a family; that is more than some can say. Do you understand?"

Bo lowered his gaze to his lap. The dragon was right, as much as he was loathe to admit it.

"You knew joy, and you know control. Others need that. And would your family want you to join them so soon?" Bo thought back to the conversation that seemed lifetimes past already. I would wait. I am patient. And I could watch over you.

Olea would not want to watch Bo kill himself.

Finally, Bo shook his head. "No."

"I expected not."

Curiosity began to prick at Bo as he returned his knife to his boot, glancing up to the dragon. "Who needs me?"

"One who is not yet born. You will meet him if you look for him, but you will have to live until then. Do you understand?" Bo nodded. "Good. This boy will be important. He will be a new breed; an alteration to the rule."

"Rule? What rule?"

"The rule of mixed blood." The dragon seemed to gather its thoughts for a moment, closing its eyes. "The rule that says that a half-breed will show both sides. The rule that says that if demon blood fights for its place, it will always win. This rule—the one your body so obligingly accepts." Bo removed his left arm from his lap as the dragon opened its eyes again and turned them to it.

"So, he is... not yet born?"

"No. And he will remain as such for a long, long time. You will need patience." The dragon's eye seemed to search Bo for something—seemed to expect something.

"I will wait." The dragon lifted its head and nodded, content to simply lie beside Bo and look at the sky. Bo finally heard the birds in the trees.

"Good. Now, what is your name?" The dragon glanced at Bo and swiftly turned away, avoiding eye contact.

Bo gave him a skeptical look, but was mildly amused, despite the new emptiness that still throbbed within him. "You know so much about me and my future, but you do not know my name?"

"I am prophetic, but this does not mean I am omnipotent."

"Then, I am Boelik."

"Boelik? You seem as though the name is estranged."

"I have been called...something else by my wife these last five years."

"I see. So you are returning to who you were before, are you?" The dragon stared him down now, anticipating his answer.

"For now. But I will remember what she taught me."

The dragon nodded. "Remembering is good. Never forget, even the things that hurt. In fact, those are the most important to remember."

"I know," Boelik sighed. He then turned his gaze up to scrutinize the beast before him. "And who are you? And, after that, what are you? You seem like a dragon...almost."

The beast snorted. "My name is Dayo. I am a unicorn-dragon."

"A unicorn-dragon?" The very thought of such a creature made Boelik snort in amusement.

"Laugh if you please. But my mother was a dragon and my father a unicorn." Dayo shifted in place, and seemed to set his jaw. It was difficult to tell under the fur.

"I'm sorry," Boelik apologized, though now he was more amused—if only by the dragon's pouting. He saw Dayo relax some. The two sat and watched as the sun burned through the dreary clouds, bits and pieces of its rays reaching the ground near them. Eventually they both fell asleep.

Boelik woke underneath of a heavy layer of feathers. He shimmied his way out and saw the dragon sleeping. "Dayo?" he asked softly. It was getting to be evening. "Dayo?" The dragon's eyes flew open and darted to Boelik, their gaze immediately softening.

"Boelik. What is it?"

"I need to bury my wife. And I need to know—should I stay here? Is there any reason?" Dayo raised his head and swung it over to Boelik.

"Unless you want to stay near your wife's corpse, no. There is not any reason for it. And I doubt your wife would want you to stay just so you can be near her bones. Let her body fall to nature: you can live and keep her alive in your memory."

Boelik nodded and got up, guilt and relief swirling inside him. "I understand." Then a nagging curiosity caught his tongue. "Also, how do you speak?"

Dayo rumbled, and Boelik discovered that it was a laugh as a wave of foreign amusement ran through him. "I use a method that allows me to connect with another's mind and speak."

"I see." He didn't understand, but he had enough of an idea. Magic.

"Is that all?"

Boelik nodded. "I believe so." And he turned away.

"Oh, and Boelik?" Dayo said as Boelik began to walk away.

"Yes?" Boelik asked, turning back around.

"If you happen to find any demons and kill them, it is best to erase evidence of their existence. Demons are attracted to carcasses of their fellows. And..." Dayo said, hesitating for a moment. "...the human race is fragile-minded; demons and dragons are falling to myth. It may be best to keep it that way. You understand?"

Boelik gazed at Dayo for a moment before answering. "Yes, I understand."

Boelik walked back to his grove and his house. He brought out his wife, carrying her like the day he first brought her home. Boelik carried her to the hill and laid her there while he dug her grave with his bare hands. Dayo was long gone.

Once the soft dirt covered Olea for her eternal rest, Boelik went back to the house and dragged the dead demon inside.

He moved to his shed, removing his beige cloak and putting dried meat in it in a bundle. After he was finished, he looked at the garden, at the home he'd made for himself and then at the one he'd made for more. And he set it all on fire.

Glowing ashes lit up the sky like smoldering stars as they rose. Screams echoed in Boelik's head, and crickets outside of it. Staring, he watched for another few moments as the fire burned all that he'd known for the last five years. The first place he'd deigned to call 'home' since he'd been a child. The first place in a long time where he felt loved. And then he pulled his cloak tighter and walked away, letting the fire consume all evidence of his life there.

That night, he sat in the calm breeze by Olea's grave and whittled until the sun rose. In the morning, he took his supplies and checked on the forest to make sure his fire eliminated everything it should have. It had, and only just: the rain before had prevented its spread. Boelik left the pile of coals behind, walking over to his creek and looking down at it for one last time as his shadow passed over.

He eventually ended up at Helena's house. Outside of her door he placed his night's work—a small wooden fox. With that done, he left the forest for the last time, headed away from the village.

The trees moaned behind Boelik as he left their protection once and for all. He glanced back at them for a moment before turning around and putting the hood of his navy cloak up and walking away. He did not look back again.

***

"Look at this: 'Colonies claim independence'," a man said in the pub. There was a lively racket in the building, swathes of men drinking away their short lives.

"Ungrateful," someone else growled. Boelik glanced over at the two men having the conversation, but he soon turned away and walked out. He strolled calmly into the night-blanketed streets of the town.

"1776—the United States of America emerge," Boelik mumbled under his breath. He looked around at the small English settlement. "Maybe I should go visit once everyone is done fighting in their petty arguments." He turned as he heard a fight break out in the pub, and he shook his head. "Wonderful treasure troves of information, pubs; but not full of very good people." He shook his head again. "I don't even drink."

A man passed Boelik on the street, not even giving him a glance. Still, Boelik moved deeper into the shadows out of habit. His hazel eyes scanned everything about his location, always watchful. He had had more than enough surprise attacks in his life.

"Come on, Dayo," he muttered. "It's been four hundred years. Where are these people that need me? Am I doing something wrong here? Did you lie to me?"

He'd asked the same questions thousands of times by now, and, naturally, he still didn't have an answer. He had no idea why he was still waiting.

"No."

Boelik stopped in his tracks, now on full alert. "Not one time in four hundred years, and now you finally say something?"

"Yes." Dayo's voice resonated in his head, familiar and strange after all this time.

"Do you have someone in mind? Is he born?"

"Yes, I have someone in mind. No, your primary pupil is still not yet born."

"Well, will you take me to whoever it is that needs me?"

"Of course. Find me in the fields to the south." With that, the old dragon's deep, rich voice was silent. Boelik dashed for the fields, everything else in slow motion in comparison to his unnatural speed. He was in the fields within ten minutes at Dayo's side.

"You were extraordinarily difficult to find for being a behemoth of fur and feathers," Boelik huffed, bending down and putting his right hand on his knee. He let his left arm dangle limply under the cloak. The moon shone above the two, bathing them in its gentle light, turning Boelik's brown hair silver just like his fur.

"I was wondering why you were so slow. Are you out of practice with your speed?" Dayo asked, bending his serpentine neck down to put his face at Boelik's level.

"No: I just had to sprint around to try and find you before we both got impatient. I checked three different fields to make sure I didn't miss you."

"I see. Well, onto the matter at hand," Dayo said, lying down like a patient cat.

Boelik glared at him and huffed before sitting himself, crossing his arm over his chest. "What do you have for me after all of these years? I have been patient as you asked."

"I know," Dayo said with a nod. "And I am glad of it." Boelik realized then that his voice sounded more raspy—older, in a way. And he realized then that even Dayo aged faster than he did. Continuing, Dayo said, "Your new charge is in Ireland."

"Ireland?" Boelik asked. Dayo nodded. "Great. Potatoes."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"I don't know," Boelik replied sourly, wrinkling his nose. Dayo moved his tail out and flicked Boelik across the back, sending him sprawling into the grass. He laid there, still for a moment. Then he turned his head to the side so it wasn't in the dirt.

"Ow. Sorry. I apologize," Boelik muttered, keeping his eyes low.

"I know," Dayo replied, his voice level. "It's just that it's been four hundred years since you've had a clear purpose. That can be hard on a soul."

Boelik sighed and sat himself back up. "So, do I have to find my own transportation?"

Dayo shook his head, closing his golden eyes for a moment. "No. I will fly you nearby and direct you the rest of the way."

Boelik's eyes widened in disbelief. "Fly? You mean, on you? Like a steed?"

"The best you will ever ride," Dayo replied, a playful glint in his eye as he ruffled his wings.

"Oh, no." Boelik shook his head, scrambling to his feet and turning away, hands raised. "No, no, no."

"What? Are you afraid of heights?"

"I don't know. But I certainly don't want to fall!"

Dayo spread his wings and shuddered in irritation. "If you fall, I will either catch you, or you will be low enough to the ground to be fine."

Boelik sucked in a deep breath, folding his arms. "It's been four hundred years. I don't know why I still trust you."

Gazing at Boelik's turned back and folding his wings back in, Dayo said, "Because you know you can." Boelik gave a small sigh, his shoulders sagging some, and faced Dayo. Turning his gaze up to Dayo's equine eyes, the dragon pressed, "There you go. Get on."

"I cannot believe that I'm doing this," Boelik muttered, grabbing the soft white fur between his hands and clambering up onto Dayo's back. "You'd better not drop me!" he called out.

"Hold on tight and press close to me." Dayo shifted beneath Boelik, so he did as he was told.

The warm fur surrounded him, creating a thick insulation. Boelik looked up towards Dayo's head as it began stretching to the sky, and he both felt and heard a joyful rumble in the dragon's chest. "Uh, Dayo...?" he began. Before he could say anything else, the dragon thrust his wings in a downward stroke and the two started off. As Boelik glanced back at the ground and, with wide eyes, saw the world shrink, he felt nauseous. "Oh, not good," he groaned.

"Don't let your stomach loose, now!"

"I certainly won't try to!"

The two soared high into the night, clouds eventually coming between them and the ground. Dayo's fur kept getting in Boelik's face, but it kept him warm in the cool atmosphere.

Once Dayo was confident in his speed, he slowed his wings and let the two of them glide, only adjusting his wings once in a while to keep the flight steady. The moonlight graced the clouds and made them look like snow. Boelik was almost convinced that they were, and that if he fell on one that it would catch him in a white plume. He reached out with his human hand but soon jerked back from the cold vapor.

"Don't be fooled," Dayo warned. "The clouds are not solid, even if they appear to be."

"I know," Boelik replied. "I was just curious."

"That can be deadly."

"Or useful."

Dayo snorted. "Or useful."

After a matter of a few hours, the two arrived over the land they sought. Dawn was just arriving, bathing the land in a golden light. Boelik yawned, the sun shining in his eyes past Dayo's neck.

"Are we almost there?" he asked.

"Almost," Dayo affirmed, banking left.

"Whoa!" Boelik yelled, gripping tighter Dayo's fur, turning his knuckles white. Dayo's rumbling laughter spilled into the air as he tucked in his wings and dived towards the ground. Boelik screamed and shut his eyes as they accelerated. At the last moment, Dayo whipped his wings back out and sent them at an all-too-fast glide parallel to the ground.

Boelik opened his eyes to see the green land going by in a blur; almost exactly how it would look if he ran. They were close enough now that Boelik would almost certainly live if he fell—had they been traveling slower. In his chest, his heart pounded an insane beat, now from excitement rather than fear. Sunlight shone in his eyes if he tried to peer ahead, so instead he looked down and mentally marked whatever he could. There was very little to mark—they were flying over hilled plains. There was, however, a lot of green.

Dayo slowed over a small cottage that seemed all but abandoned and landed just out of sight of it. Boelik scanned the plains, feeling small and exposed even as he sat on the dragon. The lack of trees or buildings was new to him. As least wherever he'd stayed before there was something to break the flat horizon somewhere. Here, trees were as rare as half-demons.

He slid off Dayo's back and immediately his face was in the grass. His legs were like honey underneath him; entirely insubstantial. Boelik growled and tried to stand again, Dayo putting his foreleg beside him so Boelik could use it to balance himself. He noticed that Dayo was laughing again and gave him a glare from the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry," Dayo apologized, though the rumbling continued. "It is quite humorous to see the effects of a first ride, though."

"Oh, be quiet," Boelik grumbled, the strength beginning to return to his legs. Dayo moved his leg and Boelik stumbled to the ground with an "Oh!"

He quickly regained his composure and stood again, still shaky. And again his baleful glare was turned to Dayo.

"I couldn't help it: I'm sorry," he rumbled. After a moment, he became serious once again and shifted to better face Boelik as he said, "Back to the matter at hand. You saw the cottage, did you not?"

"I did." Boelik let himself relax, managing to stay on his feet.

Dayo nodded. "That is where the student is hiding. The nearest village is to the south. Good luck."

"Wait, wait," Boelik protested as Dayo spread his wings. "That's it? No fundamental details? Not even their name? Their appearance?"

"Did I know your name, Boelik?" Dayo lowered his head to stare Boelik in the eye.

Boelik waited a moment before responding. "No."

"There is your reason why I didn't give you any more. I, myself, have only heard of the child. I witnessed their departure to this house in a vision. This is all I know."

"Fine, all right," Boelik conceded, lifting his human hand in acceptance as he adjusted his cloak with his demon one. He put his hands down then, finishing the adjustment with his human hand to cover his left arm.

"Then, good luck. Don't let it get the better of you," Dayo said, taking off.

"As if I would let that happen!" Boelik called to him as he left. And then he turned around and headed toward the cottage.

Boelik was within earshot of the cottage when he realized he heard snarling sounds from inside. He ran to the door, pausing for a moment outside to listen. He could tell that there were two beings inside. One was snarling like a beast, and the other was a shouting man. The two were causing quite a ruckus, banging against walls and shouting. Boelik knew as he spotted a boot print in the dirt that some villager must have come to face the 'beast'.

He attempted to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. In an instant, he figured that the man must have sealed the door to prevent the half-demon's escape. Thinking fast, Boelik stepped back and slammed his shoulder into the weak wood, splintering the door rather than flinging it open like he'd hoped. Inside, a man and a ragged boy turned to face him. Both looked terrified.

The boy was on all fours, naked, and his face was defected. The right side was paler than his already light skin and seemed to be permanently stuck in a snarl, the lips parted and showing canid teeth. The eye seemed to be forever dilated, making it look like there was only pupil, at least from what could be seen underneath his scraggly, sandy-red hair. His legs were pale as well, and were long and twiggy and...backwards? The joints were those of a four-legged animal, but the feet seemed right, if rather gaunt and somewhat pointy. Boelik also noticed that the boy was bleeding from his shoulder.

The man seemed normal, and a bloodied dagger had slipped from his hand. There was an overturned bed area, blood on the floor around it. He seemed to have stabbed the boy while he slept and now had him in a corner.

"What's going on here?" Boelik roared, remembering to keep his left arm still. The man stared in shock, and the boy leapt for the door. Boelik moved into his path before he could leave, however. "I'd like an explanation," he demanded, directing the phrase towards the man. "Why were you trying to kill this boy?"

"That is no boy," the man spat in an unfamiliar brogue, his eyes bugging as he appeared to be scared witless, pointing at the boy who stared up at Boelik with equally wide eyes. Boelik looked between the two and finally settled his gaze on the man.

"It is indeed a boy. A strange boy, maybe, but that certainly does not change his sex." Boelik tried to keep his tone as flat as possible regardless of the spite that was running through him.

"It is a monster, and it must be killed!" The man had picked up his knife, and his eyes were wild. The boy glanced at him and scrambled to the opposite corner as the madman came after him once more.

Boelik's hand darted out and grabbed the man's hand holding the weapon as he passed, and he held it with all the ferocity of his irritation. The man looked at him, his rage being replaced with fear in his brown eyes once again. He had reddish hair like the boy's, but much darker. His beard was ragged like the rest of him, but he seemed sane enough despite his current endeavors.

In fact, Boelik knew he was sane because of them.

"Enough." Boelik stared him straight in the eye, though he had to look down a bit to do so. The man gawped back at him and dropped the knife again. Boelik considered it for a moment before gazing back at the man and stepping on the knife, pulling it outside with his foot. "What did he do?"

"He terrorized my flock and family," the farmer entreated.

"Did he do anything?" Boelik pressed.

"What do you mean, 'did he do anything'? He terrorized them!"

"Did he touch them? That's what I'm asking!" Boelik shook the man's arm as his fury and impatience mounted.

The man paused. "No."

Boelik nodded and looked over at the boy. "Then he's mine." He glanced back at the man. "Tell a soul about this, and you won't have enough time left to live to take another breath. Understood?" He shook the man's wrist some more as he asked, and the man was quick to nod. "Then leave, and don't return." With that, Boelik released the man and let him run outside, watching him go for a moment to make sure he left.

Turning his attention back to the boy, Boelik walked nearer to him before realizing the boy was practically squishing himself into the corner. Boelik stopped and crouched on the floor about three paces away from him. "Hello," he said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could manage as his temper cooled.

The boy continued to stare at him with wide eyes from behind his hands while he held them up in self-defense, as if waiting for an attack. He was trying to keep the right side of his face turned from Boelik. "You speak English?" Boelik asked, ducking his head to try and get a better view of the boy's face, covered in dirt and blood now. The boy nodded a little.

"Good," Boelik said. "I'm Boelik. You have a name?"

The boy shook his head.

"No name?" Another shake of the head. "I'm not going to hurt you, you know. You can put your hands down." The boy was slow to do it, but he brought his hands away from his face. "I'm not afraid of your face, either. Go ahead: you can show it to me."

He shook his head.

"Okay," Boelik relented. "I won't press you. But you truly have no name?" Huddled in the corner, his arms now wrapped around his strange legs and his entire right side turned away from Boelik, the boy shook his head again. He stared at Boelik from the corner of his human, blue eye.

"Then why don't you pick one? I can't just call you 'Boy', now can I?" The boy just looked at him. "Okay, well, I could, but that's no name. A name should be something that you want to be called. Go on; pick one you like."

"Ryan?" The boy spoke, soft and vague, seeming almost to be asking Boelik's permission.

"Ryan? That's the name you want?" Boelik asked.

The boy nodded.

"Okay. Ryan it is. Your shoulder hurting, Ryan?" Ryan nodded, his eye flicking away from Boelik.

"Let me see." Ryan only shuffled to face the wall a little more, keeping the hurt shoulder and his face away from Boelik. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

When the boy didn't turn around, Boelik added, "Do you want it to get infected so you have a fever tomorrow and die in your bed in a week?" That made Ryan look at Boelik again, and he turned enough so that Boelik could see his shoulder. "That's a boy," Boelik praised. He scanned the room for a cloth to use and saw none. So instead, he turned his attention to his trousers and ripped a long strip off in a spiral from one leg with a bit of help from his knife.

"I hate this century's fashion," he muttered. Pulling his water flask from his jacket pocket, he pulled another strip from his other pant leg and scooted close enough that Ryan was in reach. He folded one strip into a square and dampened it, then reached over to clean the wound. "This may sting a little," he warned. "Don't move, all right?" He pressed the cloth to Ryan, who shuddered immediately but did as he was told and didn't move. "Good. Just let me clean it," Boelik said in a soothing voice, dabbing the cloth around the wound to remove the filth as much as possible.

"There. Now, I'm going to wrap this around your shoulder. Okay?" He held up the clean strip of cloth to dangle in a straight line, and Ryan gave a tiny nod. "All right." Boelik gently wrapped the strip around the wound and tied it with a bit of help from the boy before backing off to crouch where he'd been before. Ryan stared at his shoulder but stayed still. "Feel all right, Ryan?" Boelik asked. Ryan's gaze shot back to Boelik, giving him a nod.

"Ryan, how old are you?"

"Fifteen," came the small answer. He had a similar brogue to the other man.

"Fifteen?" Boelik asked. Ryan nodded. "Are you alone?" Another nod. "And you live here?...Of course you do. Well, Ryan, I'll have to go to a village tomorrow and get you some proper bandages and both of us some proper...well, everything else. Clothes for you, dishes and food for us both."

Boelik glanced down at his pants as Ryan did. "Okay, clothes for me, too." Looking up at Ryan again, Boelik sat down and crossed his legs. "Ryan, what animals can you hunt here in this country?"

"Deer. Stoat. Otter. Hare. Other small things."

Boelik rested his chin in his hand. "I see. This will make things harder. Do you know where to find these animals?" Ryan nodded. "Would you let me stay the night here with you, and show me tomorrow? We'll need meat to make money to buy supplies. Would you do that?" Ryan hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded. "Good. Thank you. And Ryan, do you know how to walk on just your back legs?" To answer, Ryan rose to his feet. Boelik scanned him up and down to check that it looked at least somewhat natural. "All right, good. That will help."

Ryan sat once more and Boelik said, "All right, Ryan. I think we're both pretty exhausted. How's about you fix your bed, and I'll go sleep over there." He pointed to the other side of the cottage where Ryan and the man had had their standoff, next to a workbench. Ryan nodded, and the two separated to either part of the cottage.

Boelik laid down and pretended to fall asleep. Once he heard Ryan's breathing become regular, he got up and walked over to the boy. Ryan was so peacefully asleep that Boelik was speechless. He was curled into a strange ball, the left side of his face up and looking gentle and innocent. How could someone attack this?

Then he peered back down at Ryan's legs. I suppose that's how.

Boelik turned his gaze to the open door, which he knew would invite biting air in once night hit. His eyes wandered back to Ryan, and he unclasped his cloak and lay it over the boy. Then he meandered over to the door and, silent as a mouse, lay the largest pieces over the opening; the wood plank that had blocked the door he put outside. After he finished blocking most of the wind from his new charge, he followed through on his promised sleep.

In the morning, he woke to Ryan sitting up in his makeshift bed and holding the navy cloak, staring at him. Boelik sat up and stretched his arms upward with a yawn. "Good morning," he said after he relaxed his arms.

It took him a moment to realize that Ryan was staring at his demon arm, and he glanced over at it himself. "Oh, this." He held the clawed hand in front of him, showing off the sharp claws. "Yes, I'm like you. That's part of the reason your face doesn't scare me, or your legs."

"Like me?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, like you," Boelik repeated.

"What am I?"

Boelik was a bit taken aback by the question, and gave Ryan a level stare for a moment before he was able to respond. He had always assumed that people like him knew what they were. "You are... half demon." Boelik paused for a moment, letting his hand fall. He added, "But that also means you are half human, remember."

"Half demon? Why don't I look like you?"

"Because there are many different types of demon. From the looks of it, you have goblin blood. As for me, my father met a fox demon."

"Why?"

"Why are we like this, you mean?" Ryan nodded. "Well, because demons and humans weren't meant to have children. Most animals have a smooth go of it when they can have children between species, able to make something that incorporates them both without making them look like a badly done puzzle. A mule is a good example.

"But, most animals come from the same world. Demons don't come from the land of man, and their blood and abilities often want more than their share. So we have disfigured bodies. Our bodies also mark us as something that should not be: a warning."

"We had no choice, though," Ryan said, his voice quiet as he turned his eyes to the floor.

"No one does. Children live with the consequences of their parents. It makes life difficult sometimes, but it does not mean we were not meant to live."

Ryan was silent. He stood and returned Boelik's cloak, walking on his two strange legs. They bent in an awkward fashion, but one that was obviously natural to him. He was about a head and a half shorter than Boelik was as Boelik stood to take his cloak.

"Ryan?" he asked. Ryan had begun walking back to his bed, but turned around. "Who taught you to speak?" Ryan's eyes lowered, and Boelik quickly noted that the memories that the question dredged up were painful. "Never mind. We can talk about that at another point in time. For now, those hunting grounds?"

Ryan glanced back up at Boelik and nodded. "Follow me," he said, motioning with his hand. He led the way out of the door, setting aside the broken pieces.

"I will fix that," Boelik promised. Ryan cast a tight-lipped glance back at him but said nothing, instead continuing across the open space. He was headed toward the area where Boelik had landed the previous day.

The air was warm; a tell-tale sign of the late summer, and a slight breeze blew by constantly. The plains were all emerald grass, with gentle, sloping hills. Boelik never stopped looking for trees, but evidently, wherever they were, trees were a distant memory, not a whiff of the familiar scents to be had. And wherever they were headed seemed just as barren.

***

The pair made their way up yet another hill, Ryan falling to all fours and motioning for Boelik to get down as well. Once he did, Ryan led the rest of the way up. At the top, they peered down and saw a small, scattered herd of deer. Ryan lay on his belly on Boelik's left, his gaze fixed on them.

"All right Ryan," Boelik said softly. "Thank you."

"Will you hunt them?" Ryan asked, tearing his gaze away from the herd to stare at Boelik, who nodded.

"Yes. You think I should not?"

Ryan shrugged. "I think you should hunt little."

"You want to leave some, do you?"

Ryan nodded, his gaze swiveling back to the deer. "The families are peaceful. It would be... sad, to see them all dead."

"I understand. I planned to only take three, anyhow. Do you see three good ones to hunt?" Boelik asked. Ryan seemed to stretch a little further toward the deer, his black eye ticking all over as he scanned the herd for what he thought was good prey. Boelik examined his face, glancing between it and the deer to see if he could discern where the boy was looking.

After a moment, Ryan pointed to three deer on the edge of the herd by the bottom of the hill, two young bucks and an older doe. "Those three."

Boelik looked out to the three. "Why do you say that?"

"The doe is old and slow. That buck, with the smaller antlers, he has a lame leg. The other buck's eye is ruined; it looks like it got caught on another's antlers." Boelik tried to see what Ryan was talking about, straining his vision to try and notice such details. He saw how sluggish the doe was, of course, but the smaller things were invisible to him.

"You have extraordinary vision. Is that all due to your eye?"

Ryan nodded. "My right eye can see like a hawk's."

"Well, do you want to see what I can do, now?"

Ryan gave him a quizzical look.

In a flash, Boelik was gone. Ryan turned his head as he noticed the doe go down, its throat torn. The two bucks followed suit. All the while, he could only see a blur around them. The others panicked and bolted, away from the dead and away from the hill.

Boelik was beside him again then, and showed him his claws. Blood stained his silver fur, and he patiently awaited Ryan's verdict.

"That's amazing," he whispered.

"We don't have to whisper anymore. Only the dead can hear us now," Boelik said, putting his hand back under his cloak. "Anyway, I'll take the carcasses to town and see if the butcher and skinner will give me much money for two of the deer."

"You... don't seem to be from around here," Ryan ventured. "Do you know where the town is?"

"I have a general idea. South."

Ryan shook his head. "I'll show you the way there, too.

"Thank you," Boelik said. He was gone for a moment and returned carrying the doe and older buck over his shoulders. "Can you get the last one?"

Ryan looked at him, eyes wide in disbelief. "You expect me to carry that?" He pointed to the remaining buck carcass at the foot of the hill.

"You can't do it?"

"Well, I don't know. I've never tried."

"Now's your chance, then. Go on." Ryan sighed as he stared down at the carcass and started to run to fetch it.

"Wait," Boelik said. Ryan turned around, blinking. "Unclasp my cloak and put it on for now. I don't think I can stand seeing you bare much longer."

Once Ryan slid the cloak out from underneath of the carcasses, he donned it and began down the hill once more. Soon he was back with the deer over his shoulders, grinning. "It's lighter than I thought."

"There you are," Boelik said with a smirk. "You never know how much you can take until you try." Pausing, he asked, "Is your shoulder okay?" Ryan nodded. "Come on then, let's hurry up. How fast can you go?" Ryan blinked at Boelik then looked down at his own feet.

"I don't know."

"Well, start running!" Boelik cried, starting off without him.

"Wait! I can't lead you if I'm behind you!" Ryan shouted, stumbling to a start.

"Then you'd better hurry up!"

Within a moment Boelik was eating his words and Ryan was ahead of him. "Don't fall behind," Ryan taunted. Boelik snorted in a laugh, accelerating to catch up. As it turned out, Ryan also had extraordinary speed, though it didn't quite match Boelik's. And he wasn't particularly durable.

Boelik's endurance would have let him run the route in one shot even with the two deer, but Ryan wasn't used to exerting himself so much so the two had to stop periodically to rest. They would break and drink from Boelik's flask or from a stream where they would also refill the often-empty container.

The town was in view by evening, and the two slowed to a stop. There were lanterns up already, shining in the dying light. A shallow ditch ran along the dirt path leading up to the settlement.

"Okay," Boelik said, turning to Ryan. "I'll need my cloak back. You go hide out in that ditch there, away from the town."

"What about the deer?" Ryan asked as he set his down and unclasped the cloak.

Boelik set his own deer down and took his cloak from Ryan's outstretched hand, putting it on and adjusting it to hide his left arm. "Well, I can't carry more than one at a time. The whole point of this," he said, gesturing to his covered arm, "is to make them think I only have one arm. You think you can put the other two over in the ditch with you?"

"All right," Ryan said, picking his deer back up. Boelik dropped the other buck in the ditch with him, and Ryan pressed himself to the ground.

"Now don't come out until I come and get you."

"I won't."

Boelik picked up his carcass and hefted it over his shoulder, walking to the town. In the streets, he quickly got directions to the skinner and the butcher. "Hello," the skinner greeted as he entered. "What can I do for ya?" he asked, leaning on the counter towards Boelik.

"I have three deer. How much would it cost to skin them?"

"Oh, about five coin each."

"If I gave you a skin?"

"Hm," the man said, looking Boelik up and down. "Four coin total. One free, one mine, discount on the last."

"Would you charge me yours?"

"Nah."

"Deal," Boelik agreed. "Here, I'll leave you to this one. You can decide when you're finished which one you'd prefer."

Boelik brought in the two deer and went to bargain with the butcher. The butcher gave him a better deal on the meat; he'd take one, buy one and a half, and leave Boelik with the rest. When Boelik was done and waited for the skinner to do his job, he went to talk with Ryan.

"How are you faring?" he asked, taking a seat in the ditch next to the boy.

Ryan shrugged, staring off at the sky as the sun painted the clouds bright, burning colors. "I'm not dying."

Boelik winced a little at the phrase. "Right. I'll buy you some clothes, something with a hood, and then we'll both go back to the cottage. All right?"

"All right."

The sun gradually went down, turning the sky from a burning canvas to a cool one. Stars soon began winking into existence, watching the two in silence. At last, Boelik went back and got his skinned deer, transferring them to the butcher's. He took his money and only waited for his half a deer before dropping the food off with Ryan. "Watch that," he ordered. And back in he went.

At the clothing store, Boelik bought some trousers, one pair for Ryan and the other for him, a couple of shirts, a pair of shoes, and a hooded cloak. He was about to head out when he noticed a gray farmer's hat with a string to reach under the chin. He bought that, too, and then bought salt for the meat. And a jar of honey, which he put in a pouch with the salt.

Back with Ryan, Boelik tossed him the clothes. "That pair of trousers on top is yours. The shirts, cloak, and hat are yours too."

"Thank you," Ryan said, holding the bundle. He stared blankly at it, as if he wasn't sure it was really in his hands.

"Well, put it on," Boelik said. Ryan started.

"Right, sorry." He set the bundle down and then pulled the shirt over his head and got it stuck, arms askew and his head only halfway through the hole.

Boelik sighed. "Never put on a shirt before, have you?"

"No, not really," Ryan replied, his voice muffled by the fabric. Boelik sighed again, helped him out of it, and then demonstrated how to properly put it on. Soon the shirt and cloak were on, but the trousers...

"Boelik?" Ryan asked, holding the pants in front of him and looking lost.

"Yes?"

"I don't know how to..."

"Well, that makes sense. Just put your feet through the holes, there. There. Now lift one leg and... Oh, never mind. Jumping works too." Eventually Ryan was clothed like a decent human being in a light, simple shirt, shoes, a brown cloak and some brown trousers. "And there we are. Here," Boelik said, handing him the hat.

Ryan took it and stared at it, then up at Boelik. "A hat?"

Boelik nodded. "Put it on. In busy places you can pull it down over the right side of your face—I made sure to get a decent rim for a reason."

Ryan put the hat on and pulled the rim over the right side of his face and turned to Boelik. "Is it good?" His bright blue eye was wide with hope.

"It's perfect. The only thing now is your legs. If you were a girl and had a skirt this would be easy, but as it is... Well, only walking around towns in the dark or standing behind something that covers your lower half in front of people should do fine."

"All right," Ryan said, nodding. "Now, back home?"

"Sure. I'll race you," Boelik said, picking up the deer meat and bag of goods.

"Ah, no. I don't think so," Ryan said, both his gaze and his voice flat.

Boelik laughed. "All right, but let's hurry nonetheless. Dark's already here, and I don't know about you, but running empties my stomach like nothing else."

The pair was back at the cottage, exhausted, just before dawn. "So," Boelik said as he walked in, moving aside the pieces of broken door with his feet, "hungry?"

"Starving," Ryan replied, flopping onto his bed. "Also, exhausted."

"Eating in the morning then, are we?" Boelik spread salt over the meat as he asked.

"I am."

"All right then. Eating a large breakfast." Boelik put the deer on the workshop bench, glancing out the window at the full moon. Then he laid the pieces of the door back over the opening. Looking at it again, it appeared that the door had been somewhat rotted anyway, making it that much more fragile. He moved his attention around the cottage to see if it was worth staying in.

The wood was grayed and dry, and the interior was a mess. Not just from the intruder the other day, either, by the looks of it. But taking Ryan into account, Boelik figured they could at least stay for a little while. At least to get the boy used to having him as a housemate first, before trying to change too much at once. Sighing as Ryan's light, whistling snore filled the cottage, Boelik lay down in his spot on the floor and passed out.

The next day, both woke up around noon with rumbling stomachs. Boelik looked to the hearth on the back wall and found a small stock of wood next to it. He put some in the fireplace to get it started, taking flint and steel from his boot and crossing his fingers in hopes it was old enough and dry enough to light without tinder.

Once a fire was started, he put the flint and steel back in his boot and removed his dagger. He moved to the deer and sliced some meat for two. Ryan watched his movements intently, interest evident on his face.

Boelik rooted around for a pan anywhere, but ended up settling on two metal rods probably meant for a clothesline and spearing the meat to cook it that way. He set the rods to poke the top-back of the hearth and stabilized them with a piece of wood for an anchor.

When it was finished, Boelik motioned for Ryan to sit by him in front of the fire. He moved the wood and removed the rods, testing the heat of the metal by the venison with his hand. "Ow," he growled, tearing his hand back. "That was stupid of me. Don't touch hot metal," he warned Ryan, taking out his flask and pouring half of the water onto the rods, cooling them. "We'll need more water," he sighed.

As they sat around the hearth and ate, Boelik asked, "So, how did that man from the other day find you?"

Ryan swallowed a bite. "Well, I think he saw me watching his flock. Actually, I was watching the dog work. He shouted and ran away to his house, and I just ran. He probably tracked me."

"Have you been chased much?"

"Not really. My first, um, ten years, I think, I lived with my da. I remember he killed my ma when I was little. He kept me inside and treated me like dirt, but I guess he never had the heart to kill me. He was the only one left who even knew I existed then."

"After that?"

"He died," Ryan said with a shrug. "I took the chance to run away then, and I ended up on the step of a blind old woman."

"What did she do?"

Ryan's mouth twitched into a smile. "She thought I was the stray dog she'd been feeding at first, I think. She was out in her chair by the door and went to pet my head. It was pretty quick after I began eating the dog food that was put out she actually got to petting me, and she said, 'Oh, you're a boy?' And when I didn't answer she said, 'Come now, talk to me.'"

"I said, 'Yes, ma'am.' My da never took less than sir, and he pounded that and ma'am into my head. She and I talked for a while, though I couldn't really talk all that well. She managed to make me admit that I was alone. Then she let me live with her."

"Let you live with her?"

Ryan nodded, staring into the crackling fire. The orange light brightened his face, glinting in his black eye. "Yeah. And whenever her daughter came by I always hid and stayed quiet while she brought in supplies and talked with her ma. She taught me how to talk properly, too: my da only ever taught me the simple things."

"What was the woman's name?"

"Nora."

"She didn't find it strange that you hid?"

"O' course she did. I ended up telling her that I was afraid of strangers."

"She didn't notice the lie?"

"Well, it wasn't a lie, but she did know something was off. Actually, that's probably why she let me be."

"I see," Boelik said, taking another bite of deer. "Why aren't you still living with her?"

Ryan's eating slowed visibly at the question, and it took him a minute before he swallowed. "She, uh... she died, too."

"Long ago?"

"The middle of spring."

Boelik nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"What about you?" Ryan asked, turning his gaze from the fire and shaking off his melancholy mood. "Where did you live before?"

"Well, I lived in England until recently."

"Before that?"

"I think it was...Germany, maybe?"

"And before that?" Ryan continued to stare at Boelik expectantly, and he sighed.

"I should start at the beginning, I think. That's where all of the important things are." He took a deep breath and sighed again, looking despondently at his meat. Alas, story time would have to interrupt eating time.

"Well, to start, I was born in a land called Nippon—Japan to you—to a demon fox and a Russian man. My father died after giving me this," he said, raising the fox clasp on his cloak more to the light, the gold reflecting onto the walls.

"My mother had him make this cloak with some of her fur and had him dye it, so I'd always have something to carry around and hide under." And always it has been, he thought, glancing at the old thing, covered in blood and dirt. It was a good thing his mother's fur was difficult to destroy.

"Later, I was careless and went into a nearby village to play with another child. Needless to say, other villagers found me an abomination and chased me back to my mother. She had to wipe out the entire village."

Ryan glanced down at himself.

"I left a few years after that and sailed overseas to...I don't even know where. But I found a little village there and grew accustomed to living in the forest nearby. I even grew to be happy there, eventually." Boelik turned his own gaze to the fire, memories flooding his vision. He closed his eyes and tried to drown them out so he didn't fall into a place he didn't want to be as he remembered the next part of the tale.

"But that did not last as long as I had hoped. And after that, I started living as a sort of nomad. Which is what brought me here." He opened his eyes to look at Ryan once more.

"A nomad?" Ryan asked, lifting his gaze.

"Someone who travels a lot, to put it simply. They don't really stick to one place," Boelik explained as he tore into his meat, his story finished. It was getting cold already.

The two were silent for a while. As the meal was almost finished, Ryan ventured to say something. "Hey, um, Boelik?"

"Ryan?"

"If those townspeople saw me, and came after me, would you have to kill them?"

Boelik shook his head. "No. We could both outrun them in a heartbeat. My mother just knew that those people would have set the forest ablaze had we run, and she had to protect it. But that doesn't mean to be careless," he added, seeing Ryan slump a little in relief.

"I know that. But I wanted to know 'what if'."

Boelik nodded and put his clean rod down. "It's good to know 'what if'. But it's best to just be careful. People are afraid of what they don't understand, and they certainly don't understand us. At least, the majority don't."

"There are some who do?"

"Of course," Boelik exhaled as he rose, putting his rod on the table. "There are those who would mate with demons, so naturally there are those who would tolerate us."

Ryan stared at the empty rod in his head. "Boelik?"

"Another question?" Boelik asked, turning his head. Ryan glanced at Boelik for a moment before turning his gaze away again.

"Is that okay?"

Boelik shrugged. "I don't know unless you ask me."

"Do nomads leave their friends behind?" Ryan kept his gaze on his rod. Boelik walked over and put his right hand on Ryan's head and took the rod with his other.

"No; normally they take them along."

The two spent the rest of the day talking. Ryan wanted to know more about what Japan was like—Boelik indulged him, though he was four hundred years out of date. Boelik wanted to know more about prey animals (and if there were any forests in this country—and there were, much to his pleasure).

In the end, they both found themselves more comfortable in each other's company. When they were ready to go to bed, Ryan gestured over to his bed of grass-filled potato sacks. "You can sleep here," he offered, and the two shared the bed for the night.

***

Boelik woke in darkness. He held still to listen for whatever had awakened him, and he heard a ticking noise like claws on wood. He strained his ears more and heard a snuffling sound and realized that something must have smelled the deer meat. Beginning to move, he noticed that Ryan was awake and holding his breath in fear. Boelik put his furred hand on Ryan's side behind him in reassurance, and he heard the boy breathe out quietly. Boelik let his eyes adjust to the dim light as he stared out at the source of the noise.

In the slight moonlight filtering through the solitary window and the door frame, Boelik could make out the dim form of the creature. It seemed like a big cat, with an even larger tail. He tapped the wooden floor next to the bed, making it whip its head around. The muzzle was longer than a normal cat's, though just as square.

The creature turned away from the meat and began stalking towards the two. As its form passed through the doorway, the moonlight fully illuminated its silhouette. That made it clear why its muzzle was so large: it had four canine teeth protruding like tusks from its jaws.

It came over to the bed, tail swishing back and forth. Its tongue crept out of its mouth to lick its lips as it lowered itself into a pouncing position. Ryan was holding his breath again, and Boelik thought he felt him trembling. "I don't think so," he said to the cat, shooting up and darting for a spot near it.

On all fours now, he shot forward to get beneath it, twisting onto his back and trying to put his claws under its chin. However, it had already begun to look down at him and open its jaws, so instead he found his hand in its mouth.

The beast saw its chance and took it, clamping its jaws on Boelik's hand. "Son of a...!" Boelik shouted before pulling himself back together. "Die already!" He used his other hand to punch the beast between the eyes. It had little effect, and the beast just clamped harder, making him cry out.

"Boelik!" Ryan cried.

"Ryan, stay ba—agh!" Boelik cried out again as the beast stepped forward and put one of its paws on his chest, the claws digging into his skin, pressing its weight onto him. He thought he could hear something crack. "Get off of me, you stupid beast!"

Boelik kicked out and up, hitting the cat in the forehead. It snarled at his retreating boot, and Boelik managed to pull his hand out of its mouth and close to his chest. As it snapped back and tried to catch his face, he grabbed a tusk-like tooth with his uninjured hand and used it to redirect the jaws again and again.

With a sudden shriek, it broke away from Boelik. He noticed then that Ryan was watching the cat from the other side, near the door, his eyes wide and his body shaking. The beast roared and lifted its paw off of Boelik's chest as it began to go after him.

"Oh, no you don't!" Boelik growled, grabbing the beast's foreleg. It whipped its head back around to snarl at him. Boelik took his chance then.

His injured hand shot out and found the soft tissue underneath the cat's jaw and tore into it. The beast made a gurgling growl at him as its blood dripped onto the floor and out of its mouth. Boelik didn't move as his hand was soaked except to stab deeper. It did not take long for the cat to collapse. Getting up and removing his claws from the carcass, Boelik saw one of the metal rods in the creature's back between its shoulder blades. He pointed at it and asked Ryan, "Did you do that?"

Ryan blinked back from his own world where he'd been staring at the body with wide eyes, and looked to where Boelik was pointing. "Uh? Oh, uh...uh-huh."

"Good work. Thank you."

Ryan continued to stare at Boelik, and responded rather blankly. "Uh...uh-huh."

Boelik gave a little laugh, a sympathetic smile crawling onto his face. "You really aren't used to this, are you?"

Ryan seemed to come back to his senses, shaking his head. "Uh...no. Not really." Boelik laughed again, his laughter turning into 'ows' as he folded over and clutched his injured hand and rib cage.

"Are you okay?" Ryan asked, stepping around the cat's body and coming close to Boelik, hand outstretched. He was as tall as Boelik now.

Boelik mused as he noticed he could look straight into the boy's eyes, now that he was hunched over in pain. "I'm fine," he replied, sucking air in between his teeth as his ribcage throbbed. "But that reminds me...take off those bandages on your shoulder." Ryan looked confused but did as he was told.

"Oh," he said, seeing that his wound was healed. Boelik nodded at the result.

"Good. You heal quickly as well. Less to worry about. Now, hand me those strips, please."

"But..." Ryan said, glancing down at the bloodied strips of cloth, "they're dirty."

"Don't worry. I'll be fine. I just need to staunch the bleeding right now," Boelik replied calmly, holding his hand where he had been bitten across the knuckles. Ryan reluctantly handed him the strips, and Boelik wrapped them around the wound.

After his hand was wrapped, Boelik sank to the floor. He felt his rib cage and quickly determined it was just bruised. "Well, that was exciting," he sighed.

"Terrifying's closer," Ryan muttered, staring at the creature. Boelik looked at the cat and over at the empty doorway. He noted that the wood moving was probably the reason he woke up upon the cat's entrance.

"I take it these aren't normal?"

Ryan shook his head. "No big cats in Ireland."

"It's a demon, then. I thought as much."

Ryan's form, outlined by the moonlight, moved closer to Boelik again and sat on the floor next to him. "What do we do with it?"

Boelik stared at the carcass and remembered Dayo's instructions, not for the first time in his many years of solitude. "We burn it."

"In the house?"

"Are you ready to move?"

Ryan shrugged, nonchalant. "Well, I don't have much here in the first place."

"Then, yes. In the morning we'll gather the food, money, and whatever else we think we'll need and head off."

"Where?"

"Somewhere with trees. Hopefully with a decent town not too close but not too far. And a stream. I'm sick of being in the open like this."

"All right," Ryan said.

Boelik sighed in contentment. "I'm glad you're mellow," he muttered to himself.

"What?" Ryan asked, blinking at him.

"I'm exhausted," Boelik exhaled. Ryan sighed as well and they both got up and flopped back into bed.

The two rose with the sun and began packing things. They emptied out the potato sacks and put the deer meat into one, some wood into another, and various tools that they managed to find by and under the workbench in another. Finding a pot, Boelik faced Ryan. "You didn't tell me there was a pot in here," he accused, waving it in front of Ryan's face.

"That's because you didn't ask," Ryan argued, stuffing the rest of the deer into the potato sack.

"I could have made stew instead," Boelik grumbled, putting it in the sack. The two remained in good humor, teasing the other about little things like the pot or dropping something. The cat still lay in the middle of the floor.

Once everything was packed, Boelik changed into his new pants and sighed in relief. He shoved his old pair into another sack as spare material. Then, checking that he and Ryan had grabbed all of their things, he set the place on fire, demon and all. The two headed north, the little cottage crackling at their backs in a fiery farewell, the fire's glow muted by the daylight. They walked for two days with moderate breaks and shared peaceful conversations all the while. Boelik's hand healed in the meantime, though his bones would take a while to reset, and he got over his bruised ribs.

Evening of the second day was approaching on the quiet plains when Boelik caught a familiar scent on the wind. He and Ryan were on a break, sitting on the bank of a stream, when Boelik stood and began to sniff like a hound on a scent. "What?" Ryan asked.

"Smells like a forest is close," Boelik said, his eyes glistening.

"Smells?"

"What? You don't take in the scent of your home? You should, you know—it's far more convenient when you can't see."

"I can see better than I can do anything else," Ryan countered.

"But what happens if you lose that eye? If you get dirt in your eyes and can't see? You have to think ahead, Ryan. All of your senses are there to benefit you," Boelik said, looking hard at Ryan. "Use them. It will make you far more productive."

Ryan stayed silent for a moment. "So, are we going?"

"Are you ready?"

"Ready enough."

"Then let's move." Boelik dashed out towards the scent of trees, his steps light and his heart pounding.

"Hey, slow down a little!" Ryan protested, sprinting to catch up.

"Hurry up a little, or you'll be left eating my dust!" Boelik called back, a smile creeping up on him.

***

In the forest, moonlight filtered through the trees in the clear night. Thunder rumbled from somewhere in the far distance, breaking the silence brought by the darkness. Boelik breathed deeply, letting the pungent scents of the woods fill his lungs. They were at once strange and familiar to him.

Glancing back, Boelik spotted Ryan standing just outside the protection of the trees, staring with wide eyes up at the overhanging branches. "Come on," he encouraged. "The woods won't bite."

"It is a little creepy, though," Ryan said quietly, stepping under the high boughs. He kept his head low, and peered over his shoulder.

"Creepy?" Boelik asked. "Well, I'll admit it's a little eerie when it's nighttime and things are quiet, but it's certainly a much more hiding-friendly place than that huge moor."

"There are so many trees in the way," Ryan mumbled, his eyes darting around to watch every shadow.

"I told you; use your other senses. Hearing is your friend in the forests of the world."

"But I..." Ryan began before trailing off.

"You what?"

"I can't hear much out of this ear," Ryan admitted as he glanced back to Boelik, pointing to his right ear.

"Don't worry. If there's anything large enough to be a threat, it'll make enough noise that you'll hear it."

"If you say so."

Boelik listened to the forest himself: he didn't hear much life as of yet, but he did hear the burbling of moving water. He motioned for Ryan to follow him and they moved deeper into the forest. The trees grew around them as they walked, the boughs stretching to touch the stars.

A large creek soon emerged, a wooden bridge making a path across the water that ran in rapids from another day's rain. Boelik stepped onto the wood, testing it with his weight to find it in good repair. Peering into the water, he noted that the stream was fairly large: it was about twice his height across, and seemed almost as deep as he was tall. Judging by the bridge, he figured that there were people nearby. Glancing at the other side, he spotted a well-worn path.

"Stay here," he told Ryan, leaving the sacks he was carrying beside the bridge on the side that Ryan waited on.

"Where are you going?"

"Scouting. I'll be back quickly: sit, and don't be rash."

With that, Boelik sped along the silver path traced by the moon, turning and twisting along the snake trail around trees and leading him to, hopefully, a village. He had to move slower than he wanted in order to scout, stopping every few meters to check that he was alone and to listen to the woods around him.

Ultimately Boelik arrived at what he expected: the edge of the forest. And, not far beyond that stood a peaceful little hamlet. Now relaxed, Boelik started back towards Ryan, marking the forest around the path in his memory. Will my memory ever overflow? he wondered vaguely as he added this forest to dozens of others.

When the bridge was in view once more, Boelik called out for Ryan. "Ryan?" he called again when no answer came. Walking over to where he'd left the boy, he found only his hat and the potato sacks. "Ryan?" Boelik called out again, a panic rising in his chest.

"Bo!" he heard faintly from downstream.

"Ryan!" Boelik shouted. He charged down the bank of the stream to where he heard the cry, and found himself watching from the shore as Ryan clung to a rock in the middle of the rushing water.

"Ryan, just swim over here," Boelik said calmly, crouching and holding out his human hand.

"I can't!" Ryan cried, readjusting his grip on the rock.

"Yes, you can," Boelik urged, stretching his hand out further.

"No, I can't! I don't know how to swim," he whimpered. "Help me, please!" The stream washed over his face and he emerged spluttering.

"Don't worry," Boelik said, standing. "Don't panic. I'm going to help you. Trust me." He took off his boots and cloak and stepped into the water, but quickly retreated as he almost lost his footing. The water was stronger than he expected. He tried again, but, shaking his head, he pulled out and looked up the bank.

"Bo...?" Ryan started, his voice small. He coughed as water came into his mouth, undesired and unrelenting.

"I'm just going to go upstream some. I'll dive in there and get you, all right? Just don't let go.

"Well, I certainly won't try to!"

Boelik went upstream and checked the water, judging the current. Casting a glance at Ryan, he dived in, letting the stream pull him toward the rock while he focused on getting lined up. He soon found the stone in his side as the breath whooshed out of him in an oof.

"Are you okay?" Ryan asked as Boelik grabbed the rock, beside him.

Boelik laughed. "You're the one nearly drowning, and you're asking if I'm all right!?"

Ryan just gave him a panicked glare, so Boelik reached over the rock with his left hand, straddling it. He shouted for Ryan to grab his other hand. The boy flailed out and took Boelik's hand and cried, "Now what?"

"We swim to shore," Boelik replied.

"But—!"

"'But' nothing! It's not that far; just trust me," Boelik ordered. Ryan shut his mouth and watched him. "Good: now, when I say 'go', we both push off of the rock as hard as we can towards the shore. I'll grab you and keep you from going under, all right?"

Ryan nodded, and they both prepared to push off.

"Are you ready?" Boelik asked, looking toward Ryan who nodded, his jaw set. "Okay...Go!" They pushed off and rocketed towards the bank, Boelik pulling Ryan close. He put his left hand out to grab the shore as they struck like stones. Managing to pull them both out some, he helped Ryan onto land first before dragging himself out.

They remained flopped on the ground for a minute as they let the panic leave their bodies. Boelik began to be able to see his own breath and glanced over at Ryan. The boy was shivering from the cold water and cooling night air, breath coming in coughing spurts. Boelik forced himself up and tossed his dry cloak over Ryan, ignoring his groaning body.

"Why, exactly, were you in the stream, anyway?" he panted.

Ryan was putting the cloak around himself, sitting up. "I fell asleep waiting for you next to the bridge."

"Why didn't you at least move inland to a tree or some other thing?" Boelik blustered. Why exactly am I so angry? he wondered in the back of his head.

"You did tell me to stay put," Ryan pointed out. Boelik was about to say something, but instead flung his hands up in irritation.

"Just—get your clothes off and dry off," he said, taking off his own shirt. He grabbed his boots and waited for Ryan to undress. Naked once again.

Boelik sighed.

"What do I do with them, Bo?" Ryan asked, draping the sopping clothes over his arms. At least he had Boelik's cloak on.

"What?" Boelik asked tersely, his eyes locking with Ryan's in an instant.

"Er, sorry, Boelik?" Ryan asked, stepping back and staring at Boelik, startled. His legs bent to dart away.

Boelik shook his head and made himself relax. "Sorry, it's not you. I just...I just haven't been called 'Bo' in a long time."

"Oh. Sorry." Ryan still stared at Boelik.

Boelik shook his head again and sighed. "It's fine. Call me Bo if you want. It's shorter and simpler. As for your clothes, just hold onto them for now. We'll put them in a sack until we find a good spot to settle, then put them up to dry."

"All right," Ryan said. He wore a blank expression, and it was clear that he still had no clue what was wrong with Boelik, though he did relax some.

Boelik didn't feel like explaining at the moment, so he just gestured for Ryan to follow him.

Back at the bridge, they stuffed wet clothes into a less-filled potato sack. Ryan glanced at Boelik's trousers after he put away the other clothes, then up at him. "No, I'm keeping these on," Boelik said. Ryan shrugged and closed the bag, grabbing his hat from the ground and pulling it back over his face.

Boelik led the way over the bridge and off of the path until he was sure no people would bother wandering so far. He made sure the stream was audible but nowhere near visible; there was not a bit of him that wanted a recurrence of the day's mishap. Then they made camp.

The two draped their clothes over a low-lying branch and Boelik clawed out a fire-ring. He tossed in some wood, set up some tinder, and lit it to let it go from there. As the fire gained some power, the two fell asleep an arm's-length apart.

Both awakened around dawn. Boelik had to restart the fire and told Ryan to check the clothes. "Still wet," he reported.

"All right," Boelik replied with a sigh. The two ate a breakfast of salted meat, which Boelik cooked over the fire, and sat to talk for the day.

"So, I can just...call you Bo?" Ryan asked after lunch. They sat on opposite sides of the fire now. Boelik sat cross-legged, and Ryan tried to mimic him for a bit before settling for one leg stretched out and the other crossing it ankle-over-ankle.

Boelik shrugged as if he didn't care. "If you prefer it."

"Bo..." Ryan muttered, testing the name. "Why did you look so shocked?" he asked then, his focus returning to Bo's strange attitude.

Bo looked down at the ground below him and imagined Olea's face beneath. "Because I was only ever called that by one person." Then, somewhat softer, "And that person has been dead a very long time." His hands clamped onto his knees.

"I see," Ryan mumbled, glancing to the ground himself. "I still don't really know much about you," he ventured.

"It's better that way," Bo said.

"Why?" Ryan's gaze lifted to watch Bo again. His mouth was half frowning, half grimacing.

"My story is long and dull. I'd put you to sleep before I got halfway to Ireland."

"Oh," Ryan said. The topic switched after that, and they talked until they went to sleep. Then they woke and spoke some more, finally putting their clothes back on, as they were dry at last. Bo sighed in contentment as his cloak was once more around his shoulders.

That night, after Ryan had fallen asleep, Bo was looking through the trees at the starry sky above, watching the lights glittering in the sky. He couldn't seem to fall asleep, despite the warm, peaceful night, when even the crickets were muted.

All at once, Bo's head felt stuffy and a voice came from everywhere. "How is the pupil?"

"Hello, Dayo," Boelik greeted softly.

"You don't have to speak out loud, you realize," the dragon said, sounding mildly amused.

"No?"

"I thought you would have figured it out by now. How is your head?"

"It feels rather stuffy."

"So, you can detect me now. Good. Just think your words to me; I'll hear them."

All right, Bo tried.

"Good."

This feels how I imagine insanity.

"It could possibly be deemed as such by an outsider. But you would seem more insane talking to yourself."

I did wonder how you could always hear me. Now I know it was due to you being inside my head.

"Indeed. Anyway, the half-demon? How are you two faring?"

We're well, minus the fact that we've no house. His name is Ryan, by the way.

"It sounds like you are becoming attached to him."

I suppose so. Somewhat.

"Well, that's good. Also, what is this about no house? I thought that cottage was where he was living?"

He was. Until someone found it, I broke the door, a demon nearly killed us, and we burned it down with the body inside. In that order, not at the same time.

"I see. So, what will you do now?

Build a new house. Start in a fresh place.

"Where will you get the materials?"

There's a town not too far off. Unless you want to make a special delivery? Boelik thought hopefully.

"I will see what I can do. If I give you the materials, I would also request that you not use them as a demon's funeral pyre as well."

I think we can manage that.

"And how is his training?"

...Uh...

"Stop. Go no further. I can see you have not started."

We've been getting to know each other first. It doesn't seem like he's really tested out his abilities very much, so I figured that training could wait and a little personal contact could come first.

"Fine, however you feel it will work the best."

I appreciate the leeway. Then, Bo added, teasing, So are you going to be more sociable now?

Dayo didn't answer for a long while, and if his head hadn't still been stuffy Bo may have thought that the dragon had left.

"Maybe," Dayo finally said. Bo laughed a little. "You seem much happier," Dayo noted. Bo sighed, content.

I suppose that's because I am.

"Because you are not alone?"

Maybe. I'm not exactly sure. But Ryan is a decent companion.

"So this is good for you both."

Guess so. Ah, and Dayo?

"Yes?"

Exactly why did you stay quiet for four hundred years? For a short time, I'd almost thought you'd died.

"Ha. No," Dayo said. "No, I was just waiting for a half-demon to be born that wasn't determined to take after their demon blood right away. Also, they are not born that often, if you hadn't noticed. But for some reason, more have started to pop up lately."

Really?

"Yes. Though most of them are killed in such a short time after their birth that it is meaningless to contact you."

That makes sense. Neither half of our parentage typically wants us, and to each species we're abhorred and typically noted as abominations.

"All the more reason for you to help as many as you can."

I suppose so. Bo turned onto his side, looking at Ryan who slept peacefully beside him. Other than his permanent snarl, his face appeared as innocent and normal as anyone else's. Some of them don't even know what they are.

"No. How would they? Their parents often abandon them."

I know. But it makes the thought of it so much worse. I mean, when I told Ryan what he was...I'm not sure. It was like even he thought that he was a monster, just like the man who tracked him down and tried to kill him.

"I know," Dayo rumbled gently. "It is hard on all half-breeds. Myself included, though for different reasons."

Because a unicorn-dragon sounds preposterous and the title alone is utterly ridiculous? Bo teased.

"That is one reason," Dayo growled. Bo laughed again.

Ah. That aside, were you simply checking in to check in, or...?

"Just to check in. One reason to be glad half-demons aren't so plentiful, I suppose, is that I don't have to have you stumbling around to herd them all up like lost lambs."

I would try anyway.

"I know you would. It's why I'm glad I do not have to ask you to."

Glad you're thinking of me, Bo thought with a smirk.

"Don't be cheeky, now. I could still swallow you in one bite, you know."

You'd have to catch me first.

Dayo was quiet for a minute. "I think you are very tired."

I think you're right. In fact, I know you're right. I'm going to sleep now.

"That is a good idea. I will drop off your resources within a matter of days."

All right. We'll just tell stories until then.

"Don't give him nightmares," Dayo teased before breaking the connection and allowing Bo's head to clear.

Why would I do that? I have my own, Bo thought before sleep stole him.

***

In the morning, Bo and Ryan awakened and spent another day talking. And another after that.

"What are we waiting for?" Ryan finally asked in the afternoon of the third day. Bo was sitting and staring at nothing in particular, and Ryan paced aimlessly around the fire.

"A delivery," was all Bo said.

"Well that's specific," Ryan replied, looking to Bo expectantly.\

"And it's as specific as you'll get until it arrives," Bo replied, unwrapping his now-healed hand and throwing the cloth strip into the fire. Ryan sighed and returned to pacing.

The following morning, just before dawn, the two were awakened by a distant racket. Moving out to inspect the area, they found a few pallets of wood. More than enough for the house Bo had had in mind, in fact. You outdid yourself, Bo thought to Dayo as he felt a stuffiness return to his head, crossing his arms. He stared at the pile of wood and Ryan's inquisitive inspection of it.

"Why, thank you. I thought you would appreciate the amount I'd supplied. There are tools on top of the southernmost stack, by the way," Dayo replied, a strange lilt in his voice. "I also took the liberty of getting you a door."

Are you...pleased with yourself? Bo thought, amused with the dragon.

"Yes I am," Dayo stated plainly. "I don't see why not: it was hard work to supply all of that wood."

Glad you've nothing better to do.

"I have many better things to do," the dragon replied haughtily. Then, more calm, "But, allies take priority. Tentative friends, even higher. Besides, I could not have you two finding some abandoned house and taking it over like a fox finding an open den."

Thanks.

"Oh, my apologies," Dayo said, a flash of heat running through Bo as the dragon shared his embarrassment. "I forgot about your mother."

Maybe you should stop talking.

"Right. I will speak with you again soon, Boelik," Dayo said, and Bo's head cleared out. He shook his head and sighed, uncrossing his arms.

"Come on, Ryan," he said, sidling over to the southernmost stack of wood. "I'm going to teach you some carpentry."

Ryan stood from a crouch where he'd been examining a moth on one of the stacks of wood. "Carpentry?" he asked, tilting his head a little, and Bo gave a good-natured sigh.

"Grab some wood and the tools on top there," Bo said with a gesture to the pile. "We have a house to build."

In a matter of several weeks, the two managed to finish their new home. At first, Ryan was absolutely useless with tools. Bo couldn't even count how many times he had to yell at the boy to be careful, or how many times Ryan hit his own fingers with the tools or the wood, or how many times Ryan cursed like a sailor. Or even how many times he swung a board around and accidentally hit Bo with it. And Bo often had to have Ryan do his part in a day over again...or just do it over again himself.

Now, the two stood back from their cabin. Sweat plastered their hair to their heads in the cool, late-autumn evening, and leaves scuttled along the ground in the slight breeze. Bo put his hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Slower than I would have liked," he admitted. "But it still looks fairly decent."

"What do you think?" Ryan asked, turning his head just enough that Bo could see the human side of his face, his blue eye glinting. "Would you hire me?"

"No." After a moment he added, "But, you did improve."

Ryan stared at his hands, covered in healing wounds. "It was very painful."

"Well, that's what happens when you try to rush with tools. They bite back. Time for supper?" Ryan nodded.

"I'm starving," he gushed.

They sat by a fire and cooked a rabbit that they caught in a snare. As they ate, Bo decided it was high time he talked with Ryan about their next goal. "Ryan," he said after swallowing a mouthful of meat.

"Hrm?" Ryan blinked blankly at Bo, his voice muffled by his own food.

"You haven't really used your abilities much, have you?"

"Abilities?" Ryan asked, gulping down his rabbit. Juice dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it away with his sleeve. That reminded Bo—they'd soon need new clothes.

"The ones your demon blood gives you. Your speed, your sight, whatever extra power you may have gained."

"Oh," Ryan said. "Well, not really."

"I think it's time I taught you to use them."

Ryan cast his eyes to the ground. Quietly, Bo heard him say, "But I don't even want them. Do I have to use them?"

"Yes. They are yours, and you control them. You can't let them control you out of fear, or any other reason. That's why I want—need—to teach you how to use them," Bo explained.

"Now?" Ryan peeked up at him from where he had his head lowered, like a guilt-ridden pup.

"No, not now. But we start tomorrow."

"All right," he sighed.

That night, Bo stared up at the dark ceiling, the scent of new wood swirling around him and Ryan's breathing filling the otherwise silent air as his warm presence slept beside him. The only thing that reminded Bo that he wasn't alone anymore.

As he reminisced on his past, Bo felt his head get full of cotton. Now a familiar sensation. Dayo? he thought.

"Hello, Boelik."

Checking in again?

"Are you training yet?"

Oddly convenient that you asked that tonight, because I just told Ryan we'd begin playing with his abilities tomorrow.

"I thought as much. I have ears in many places, you know."

What, do you commune with crows?

"No. I just happen to be friends with a few ravens."

All right then.

"Besides that, I bear some dark news." Dayo's tone was low now, and Bo's blood ran cold.

What is it?

"I have been monitoring demon levels for a long time now. They've been steadily on the rise, and recently they've seemed to simply be...appearing."

What do you mean, 'appearing'? Out of thin air, or what? Popping out of the ground like daisies?

"I'm not sure, which is half of the dilemma. Normally, when one pops up, I can discern where it came from, or at least what from. But now...they seem to simply manifest. I have a very bad feeling about it."

How does it look around here?

"Ireland seems to be fairly safe for the moment. There are some on the continent, but not as many as on the more densely populated ones. The more humans, the more demons are around. But they do seem to be multiplying exponentially, so be cautious."

But, Dayo, how can they be populating so fast without reason? I don't believe that I understand the circumstances.

"Boelik... how old are you?"

What? Bo hesitated for a moment before answering, the question catching him off guard. I suppose...about four hundred and thirty-six, now. Why? What does that have to with anything?

Bo heard Dayo sigh. "Four hundred and thirty-six. We are both old men. And we will both be very old men to join in what I expect to come."

Dayo, explain to me what the devil you are talking about.

Dayo sighed once more, the sound heavy in Bo's head. "In nearly two hundred and fifty years, if I gather correctly, the charge I told you of will be born. That one will be accompanied by another; and if that companion is what I have seen it to be, we will have much blood on our hands." His voice became lower and distant, as though he were speaking to himself, "The rivers themselves will run red..."

Why? Dayo, explain it to me already! I am growing fed up with your speaking in riddles.

"Boelik. I will explain what I feel comfortable in knowing," Dayo finally said. "Every thousand years, demons and other creatures known as morphers come together and battle to keep the balance. When the demons win, the world is cast into darkness and morphers have to fight to regain the world's balance. When the morphers win, equilibrium is achieved and demons fall into something of a rarity."

Morphers? Bo thought in a pause in Dayo's speech.
"Yes. They are protectors: they keep demon-kind from running rampant. They are creatures with—normally—two forms, typically one of a human and another of an animal."

Okay? How, exactly?

"This world is full of magic, Boelik, if you look for it. Not just parlor tricks. You should know this as well as anyone."

What does all of this have to do with these charges and the demons? Bo asked, though he was getting an idea.

"Boelik, there is another thing. This companion to your strange charge will be a morpher destined to lead the army of such." There was a pause, and in the instant Bo thought of the answer to his question, Dayo said it. "The thousand years are almost over.

***

Bo awakened from a fitful sleep, his heart beating hard from the recurring nightmare that had been haunting him for a while now. He dreamt of Ryan dying like Olea, except instead of being absent, Bo was all too there. A sea of demons would be between him and Ryan; and no matter how many he ripped into, ducked under, or leapt over, Ryan's screams wouldn't stop.

And then they would.

So when dawn's light crept through a crack in the door and Bo looked over to see Ryan still intact, sleeping like a lamb, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. He let Ryan doze while he went outside to sit in the cool, crisp morning air and tend to the fire.

The sun shone between the trees, casting strange patterns of light on the ground. Birds sang in the branches, and soon Bo's uneasiness faded into a memory just like his nightmare. Thunder rolled far in the distance, not yet a threat.

Bo began cooking breakfast and thinking about the conversation he'd had with Dayo the other night while he waited for Ryan wake up. "Two hundred and fifty years," he mused, "is not a long time. I can see why the demons are getting ready now." Thinking aloud as he cooked, he asked, "But where are they coming from?"

His attention was grabbed by movement from the house, and he turned to see Ryan coming out the door, rubbing his eyes, gray hat on his head.

"Sorry I'm up late," he yawned. "It's strange sleeping under a closed roof again."

Bo watched as Ryan plunked down near the fire. "It's fine; I'd rather you sleep well before training. It's no good to be tired and worked to the bone."

"So you were serious about that, huh?" Ryan groaned, taking his meal of rabbit meat from Bo, who sat next to him. Ryan sat in his signature pose with his feet stretched toward the meager fire, his strange legs prohibiting him from mimicking Bo.

"Of course I was. If another demon comes along, we don't really have an extra rod for you to stab it with. And I'd rather not get stuck in a situation like before again."

"I'd rather not, either."

"Yes, and I have to make sure you aren't turned to stone by fear next time, either. Stupidity and arrogance are bad, but freezing is just about a thousand times worse."

"Sorry." Ryan glanced away from Bo, his face becoming a little red.

"It wasn't your fault," Bo said. "You had never been exposed to that before. I was surprised you helped at all, to tell the truth. It's impressive that you had the guts to do that."

"I didn't think I did," Ryan admitted. "But I couldn't just leave you there."

"And I'm glad you didn't—that was a pretty messy situation."

"I'm glad I didn't either," Ryan said, looking back at Bo. Ryan's mismatched eyes shone. "It's nice to have someone else."

"I agree. It's also very nice to be alive." Changing the topic, Bo said, "Eat fast. I want to get to work as soon as possible."

"What exactly is this 'training' going to be?"

"We'll see. I need to try you a little bit first."

"Try me?" Ryan asked, giving Bo a strange look.

"Test out what you can do. Preferably by way of a friendly little brawl."

"Can...we not do that?"

Bo shook his head. "Come on, you're done with that rabbit."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are, unless you plan on sucking the marrow from its bones."

Ryan glanced at the few bones in his lap and sighed, possibly cursing his famished self. Then he followed Bo as he got up and walked a little way away from the cabin.

Finding a less dense part of the woods, Bo stopped and directed Ryan a short distance from him. "I'll let you attack first," he said. Ryan shuffled his feet, looking down at his shoes. "Take off your shoes and hat if you want." Ryan did just that, putting them in a small bundle at the base of a nearby tree. A breeze blew through the forest, making the leaves whisper as Ryan faced Bo again.

"Come on," Bo said as Ryan did nothing. "We don't have all day. If you don't come at me soon, I'll be coming after you."

"I don't like this," Ryan admitted.

Bo sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Ryan," he said, opening his eyes. "Do you think I like having to fight you? It's simply the best way to do this. You won't hurt me. Do you think I'd hurt you?"

"No!" Ryan protested, shaking his head vigorously. "I just..."

"Don't worry. It's a practice round. You don't need to be good, and you don't need to want to hurt anything. In battle, you just need to want to survive," Bo said, removing his cloak and setting it on Ryan's things. "Understand?"

"All right," Ryan said as Bo went back to his place.

"What now?" Bo asked as Ryan still hesitated, shifting on his feet.

Ryan's gaze swam with confusion and concern as he met eyes with Bo. "What do I do?"

"Oh..." Bo grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his right hand. He tried to keep the frustration that was bubbling up in his belly down. It wasn't the boy's fault, after all. "Just charge me."

"What?"

"Come running at me," Bo said, transferring a gaze like steel back to Ryan. "Try and hit me. Do whatever you can to hit me, as a matter of fact; and don't try to hold yourself back."

"I..." Ryan began.

"Go!" Bo yelled, making him jump.

Ryan sped toward him and seemed to aim a punch at his gut. Bo sidestepped and swung a kick out to knock Ryan's feet out from under him. The air whooshed out from him in an oof as he hit the ground. He turned onto his back and stared, dazed, up at Bo as he walked over to stand above him, shaking his head. "Too slow. You aren't trying. It's only when you don't try that this is going to happen, I'll have you know."

Ryan coughed and stared up at Bo: his demon eye seemed to take in every detail, while his human eye seemed to plead for pause. "But I can't try."

"You can and you will. This needs to happen whether you like it or not, and my feelings don't matter in this either. If I had it my way, I'd kill every demon that might come for us and change every human's mind about us, but I don't have that sort of power. So take it like a man, get up, and try again," he ordered, offering his hand to Ryan and pulling him up.

"You're a very hard teacher," Ryan grumbled.

"Well the demons aren't going to sit you down to have tea with them. Now try again—and for goodness' sake, try and hit me this time, not just...whatever it was that you began to think about doing."

The day wore on and Bo continued to assess Ryan's abilities. He had Ryan climb trees and jump down, had him try to leap into the branches. He even hid in the treetops and had Ryan find him just by searching for abnormalities in the leaves. The whole time, Ryan was reluctant to hit Bo. Not once did he manage to even touch him.

Now Ryan sat low in a tree, exhausted, leaning against the trunk. Bo turned to look over at the sunset through the trees as he felt the air getting colder and deemed it time to go home. "All right, Ryan. We're done for today."

"Yes," Ryan panted, sinking down from the branch he perched in.

Bo sniffed and promptly snorted. "Oh, we stink. Very badly."

"Really?" Ryan asked, sniffing himself. He snorted as well, shaking his head. "Oh, that's bad. That's very bad."

"Time for a wash. In fact, probably long overdue," Bo sighed. He glanced over at Ryan as he picked up his cloak. "To the river, as long as you can stand in it."

Ryan scowled as he gathered up his own things. "Maybe, if it isn't as strong as it was."

"There hasn't been a strong rain in some time. You should be fine."

The two made their way to the river, the rosy sky easily lighting their way. They placed their clothes by the bridge and stepped into the gently-flowing creek water right next to it. Well, Bo did. Ryan stood at the shore, reluctant and staring into the water. "It'll be fine," Bo coaxed. "Trust me. You can stand in this."

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"Ryan, it's not as though I'm making you cross a river here. You can step into the shallows and sit to wash, even." Bo gestured with an open hand to a shallow bed near the shore.

"Maybe I can just scoop it?" Ryan suggested.

Bo shook his head. "This is an irrational fear, and you know it. At least bathe in the shallows."

Ryan sighed, and was about to walk in when the two heard voices.

"Right now of all moments," Bo hissed, glaring into the woods. Flicking his gaze back to Ryan, he growled, "Ryan! Grab our things and come in here at once. Keep them dry—we'll need them later."

There was no more trepidation on Ryan's part: he did exactly as he was told, only wincing some as he entered the cold water. Bo took the clothes from him, careful to keep them over his head as he ushered the boy under the bridge, hiding them both.

The voices grew and Bo could tell now that it was two young girls. In honesty, that made him more anxious than it would have if it were a horde of men out for blood; he peered at Ryan and hoped he wasn't curious. Not only did he not have time to train Ryan in the fine art of making friends, they had no time for a boy's first love. So Bo had no choice but to look up and hope the two would pass by without Ryan seeing.

Footsteps thundered overhead, making Bo wince with every echo. Ryan gave him a curious glance and Bo covered the boy's mouth with his left hand as he looked like he was about to ask something. Ryan stared down at the hand, eyes wide, then up at Bo's face. Bo removed his hand and put a finger to his mouth in a 'sh' position.

It seemed like forever before the voices and footsteps were a distant murmur. Ryan and Bo crept out from under the bridge, the sounds of the creek overpowering the voices of the girls. "I think we've bathed enough," Bo said, casting his eyes up at the sky, turning violet now.

"I wonder why they were out so late," Ryan mumbled, gazing in the direction the girls left in as he stepped out of the water.

Bo wondered if he was trying to spot them. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm sure they don't need us to keep an eye on them."

Ryan looked back at him, his face red and sporting a lopsided, sheepish smile. The two grabbed their clothes and headed back to their home.

Bo and Ryan sat in the cabin, now dry and comfortably clothed, listening to the sounds of raindrops falling. Night was under way at last, and the clouds took their chance to relieve themselves after the warm day. Bo tended to the new hearth, the fire keeping the house warm and bright.

"I hope they're back inside," Ryan said in a soft voice, staring at the wall next to his chair. He sat at the small table Bo had made, sitting parallel to the wall, the other chair empty for the moment as Bo tended the flames.

"I'm sure they're fine, Ryan. If they had been smart, though, they wouldn't have gone out so late in the first place." Bo shoved another stick into the fire, causing a swirl of glowing ashes.

At that moment, there was a rap on the door and both boys stiffened. The rapping came again, desperate. "Ryan, keep your legs tight under the table. I'll get the door," Bo ordered, adjusting his cloak over his arm. He opened the door, and his heart skipped a beat before sinking.

Two girls, about Ryan's age, stood drenched outside the door. One had auburn hair and the other had nut-brown, but they seemed to be sisters. "Excuse us, sir," the brown-haired girl said with chattering teeth, "But may we come in until the rain stops?"

Bo peeked at Ryan, who had done as he was told and now sat with his legs barely visible and his hat covering the right half of his face. Bo looked at the girls and had a powerful urge to say 'no' and slam the door in their faces. Instead he said, "Come in, girls," and stepped aside. The girls rushed in with a profusion of thanks. "I apologize for the lack of seats," Bo said as he went and sat cross-legged on the bed, "but we have not had visitors before."

"No, no," the girl with auburn hair said. "We apologize for intruding so late."

"Why are you out so late?"

"We wanted to walk in the moonlight," the girl with the brown hair explained. "When the rain started we tried to get back, but we lost the path. We continued on and found your cabin here."

"I see. Well, my name is Bo. My friend here is Ryan," Bo said, gesturing to the boy who was squishing himself into the wall and trying to avoid eye contact.

"My name is Colette," the brown-haired girl said. "This is Shannon." She gestured to her companion.

"Are you two sisters?" Bo asked.

"Oh, yes," Shannon said.

"You can sit down if you would like," Bo offered, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the table, which Colette took after her sister politely declined. Shannon instead sat next to Bo after a brief moment to ask permission.

"How old are you?" Colette asked Ryan, scrutinizing him. Ryan was pressed back against his chair.

"Fifteen," he said in a tiny voice. Bo sighed to himself, shaking his head.

"So are we," Shannon said, her eyes on Ryan as well.

"Why are you wearing your hat like that?" Colette asked.

"He's rather interesting that way—he likes it like that," Bo said, his voice taking on a light tone as he smiled. Colette nodded.

"I see."

"What about you, mister?" Shannon began, her attention brought back to Bo.

"Just Bo," Bo said with a polite smile.

"Well, Bo, why ever do you wear your cloak like that?"

"I feel more comfortable with it this way—I do not possess a left arm, you see."

"Oh, what happened?" Colette asked, her focus now on him as well.

"Yes, what?" Shannon echoed.

"I was simply born without it. It does not bother me, but it tends to upset others when they see that, so I leave it covered out of habit now."

"Well that's rather sad," Colette said, scowling. "You should be able to show who you are." Bo noticed Ryan look straight at her then. I hope that if I could see your eyes right now, they wouldn't be full of stars.

"I see the sense in it, though," Shannon told her sister.

"It doesn't change the fact that it's sad," she protested.

"I agree," Ryan said, glancing away as Colette's green eyes focused on him. Shannon's identical green eyes were drawn to him as well.

"Do either of you girls mind," Bo said then, "to keep our precise whereabouts a secret from your parents?"

"Oh, but why?" Shannon asked, her face betraying her reluctance with a scowl and furrowed brow. "You have been good to us—I am sure our parents would like to thank you."

"The thanks of you two is fine enough for us. I think we would both prefer to keep ourselves a secret, thank you. We like living quietly."

"But what shall we tell our parents of where we stayed tonight?" Colette asked.

"Say that a pair of men took you into their cabin upon request, but that you've no idea in which direction that was," Bo said. "Ryan and I will soon escort you out of the wood: the rain is letting up."

Bo was right: after a few minutes, the rain stopped altogether and Bo showed the girls the door. The three of them began a short distance at Bo's insistence before Ryan hurried out and caught up, letting the darkness cover the sight of his legs. There was scant light in the forest, and even Bo could barely see anything as clouds still blocked the glow from the heavens. "Do you have a lantern?" Colette asked.

"No," Bo replied. Turning to Ryan he asked, "Can you see all right, Ryan?"

"Yes, Bo."

"Then take the lead," Bo said. As Ryan passed Colette, something moved in the darkness and she leapt close to him with a squeak, clinging to his shoulder. He jumped and cried out himself. Shannon had started but stayed where she was and let out a breath while Bo sighed.

"I'm sorry," Colette apologized to Ryan, letting go.

"It's okay," Ryan squeaked.

"We should hold hands," Shannon suggested. "That way we won't get scared and run off." Despite the fact that her idea was quite logical, Bo wanted to make her disappear just then.

"Yes," Colette agreed. "A good idea. Ryan?"

"Uh...I don't, erm...Bo?"

Bo sighed. "Take Colette's hand, Ryan. Shannon, take your sister's. I'll walk behind you all." He heard the three of them shifting around, their dim forms melting together as they became a small chain.

"Ryan, your hand is very...sweaty," Colette remarked.

"I'm sorry," Ryan eked out in apology as they walked.

"It's all right," Colette replied in an instant. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes."

"What, you've never held a girl's hand before?" Shannon asked.

"No."

The girls giggled.

"What about you, Bo?" Colette asked.

"I have," he admitted from behind.

Shannon piped up, "More than one?"

"No, just one. But that is in the past." The girls seemed to sense that Bo did not want to speak any more about the subject and fell quiet.

The four walked through the forest for some time. Most of the sounds in the forest were of their own crunching footsteps and Ryan alerting them to watch their step. The village seemed much further away than Bo remembered.

"We're almost there," Ryan remarked at last.

"All right. I'll escort the girls to the edge of the village, then. Ryan, stay here," Bo said.

"Right." Ryan let go of Colette's hand and backed away to let Bo move in, taking her hand in Ryan's stead. He led the girls to the edge of the village before letting them go, bidding them a farewell.

Back in the forest, he called for Ryan in a soft voice. "I'm here," the boy said from the shadows.

"Good. You did well to keep calm. But, next time, don't press yourself against the chair like they're a pestilence of some sort," he advised.

"I'm sorry. Colette was nice, though," Ryan said mildly.

"No, no. No time for 'nice'. 'Nice' is for half-demons who know how to protect 'nice' and have trained to keep themselves alive long enough for 'nice'," Bo growled.

"All right," Ryan relented, sounding hurt. "I was just saying she was nice, though."

Bo sighed. He was being unfair to Ryan, and he knew it. Even as he said it, he remembered his time with Olea. "Sorry. Let's just get home. I'm exhausted."

"All right," Ryan sighed, leading the way.

Bo was happy that Ryan never got fed up with him. It was easier to be the bad guy when he knew it wouldn't cause him to be hated.

The two got home and rekindled the fire. They didn't speak as they flopped into bed. Ryan fell asleep first, and Bo listened to his soft breathing and the crackling of the fire for some time. He thought about Olea as he lay there, and wondered how she would handle Ryan.

"I think you are doing perfectly fine," Dayo's voice came, making Bo jump. Ryan stirred next to him.

Dayo! he thought, breaking off his previous train of thought. You startled me.

"I noticed. I am surprised that you didn't detect my entrance."

Well, I was a bit preoccupied. What do you want? Bo was swift to add, Not to sound short; I'm just exhausted.

"Do not worry: I understand. I only wanted to know how the boy was doing."

Ryan's fine. He met a girl today, and I'm slightly afraid he may have formed feelings for her.

"Met a girl?"

Two wandered into the woods and sought shelter.

"I see. But what is so bad about that?" Dayo asked.

Everything, Bo groaned. Not only can he not protect himself, let alone another, but bringing a human into this world would bring them trouble. And I don't even know if she'd accept him. I fear for him more than anything, Dayo.

"Boelik. What will happen will happen. Do not try to stop the boy from loving. Just try to keep him safe," Dayo said sagely. "Now, what about his abilities?"

He can see well in the dark, it appears. His hearing on his right side is dull, but the eye is sharp. His speed is amazing as well, and it seems that he can leap like a flea.

"I see," Dayo said, trailing off as if in his own thoughts.

He does have a debilitating fear of water, however. I don't even know if I'll be able to teach him how to swim.

"Try your best," the dragon advised. "It's all that you can do."

That's not very reassuring. I'm incredibly afraid of failure.

"Failure is fine as long as you learn from it."

Not when failure results in someone's death. I can't... I just can't let someone die because of me again.

"Boelik, you will have to trust in yourself, no matter what happens. There will be others who depend on you. This is the responsibility of those with lives that span centuries, like us."

But what is the point of it if we live only to watch those we love die, especially when they are killed by our own inaction? I don't know how many more I can watch die before me, Dayo.

"Your life will end, Boelik, rest assured. So will the lives of those you love: the 'when' does not matter. It just gives you more reason to try to live as best you can, and spend as much time with each other as possible."

I think the 'when' does matter a bit.

"Nonsense. The 'when' will forever be unchanging; what you do with your time until the 'when', that is up to you," Dayo rumbled.

Bo sighed. If that's what you believe.

"Entirely."

Fine. Good night, Dayo, Bo sighed, exhausted.

"Good night, Boelik."

Call me Bo, he managed to think before he sank into darkness.

***

In the morning, the sun shone happily through the cracks under the door. The birds seemed to sing in the hundreds in the trees. Bo woke to find Ryan tending the hearth. He sat up in bed and remarked, "And the pupil rises before the master."

Ryan started, turning to Bo. "What?" he asked. "I'm sorry, I wasn't really paying attention."

Bo shook his head good-naturedly. "Started breakfast?" he as ked. Ryan shook his head. Bo tutted. "So close."

After the two finished breakfast, they went to training. Bo decided that the best thing to start with was Ryan's jumping, so he had him practice leaping into branches with two goals: the first was to get into the tree. The second was to avoid breaking the branch. Unfortunately, the second task seemed to be a problem, if not the first.

Another branch snapped underneath Ryan's clumsy weight, and he fell with a hard grunt and a moan. Bo shook his head. "You have to land lightly. You're trying too hard, pushing your feet down. Watch." Bo leapt into a low branch that bent some under his weight but did not yield. Ryan pushed himself up to watch.

"Well that's just mean," Ryan muttered, getting up. "I think these trees hate me."

"They'd hate you much less if you stopped stomping on them," Bo said.

Ryan tried again to leap into a tree, this time trying to mimic Bo as he leapt onto a limb beside him. His branch bent and swayed and he had to fight to keep his balance, but the bough stayed on the tree. He grinned at Bo, his features lighting up. Though, his smile was... something else.

"Good work," Bo commended. "Now to get down—and gently, for the love of Mercy."

"Bo? Ryan!" a voice came through the trees then, catching Bo's attention. As he looked, Ryan turned to track his gaze and lost his balance, falling hard.

"Ow," he groaned, curling into a ball.

"Are you all right?" Bo called down, continuing to balance on his branch.

"I'm fine," Ryan hissed between his teeth, getting up slowly and brushing himself off. "What did you notice?"

"I thought I heard one of the girls from yesterday," Bo explained. At the same time, the call came again. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "I suppose I was right."

"Which one?" Ryan asked.

"Colette, I believe. Stay here; I'll deal with this." Bo sprang down from the tree and turned to Ryan. "Keep working on that," he said, pointing at Ryan before darting off.

He found Colette around the cabin, staring the opposite way. As he came behind her, though, she turned around and smiled. "Hello, Bo," she greeted.

"Hello, Colette. What were you calling for?" Bo asked, eyes flicking to a basket on her arm.

"Well, we told our parents what you told us to say. This morning Ma had me come out and told me to try to find you and give you this," she said, holding out the basket, covered with a white cloth.

"What is it?" Bo asked, taking it with slight hesitation.

"Some of our Ma's bread and a few coins in thanks."

"Well, we're very grateful, but are you sure all of this is necessary?"

"Absolutely," Colette said, her voice stern. Softening she asked, "Also, where's Ryan?"

"He's...out," Bo said.

"Oh, I see," she said softly. "Well, would you tell him I said hello?"

"I...well, I don't see why not." Bo shifted, crossing his right arm over his chest, the basket hanging from the crook of his elbow.

"Thank you," Colette said with a polite little smile. "I'll be heading home, then. Shall I see you again?"

"It's a possibility," Bo said, allowing a small wave. Colette grinned and waved back, heading off. "Ryan's more comfortable at night," he decided to shout after her. She turned back, her brow furrowed and her head tilted to the side. "If you wanted to see him, that is." The confusion fled from her face then, replaced with a nod and a smile.

"Thank you!" she called back, waving. Satisfied, both turned around. Bo put the basket in the cabin and headed back to the area he'd left Ryan in.

Bo stopped a short way from the training spot and listened. He did not have long to wait before he heard a thud and an ow. Not long after, he heard a whoa and another thud. Shaking his head, he walked into view. Ryan was lying sprawled on the ground, looking up at the treetops. Bo walked to stand next to the boy and leaned over him.

"You all right there?" he asked, his mouth quirking into a small smile.

"No," Ryan stated flatly. "I don't get it. I'd rather just lie here for the rest of my life and look back at my failures."

"Well, you don't get to. Come on, get up," Bo said, pulling him to his feet.

"How do you do it?" Ryan asked.

"Bend your knees more as you hit. It'll absorb the shock and quiet your landing."

"Oh," Ryan said. He looked up into the branches and down at the ground again. "Oh."

"Got it?" Bo asked as Ryan leapt again, landing on it with minimal swaying. Then, after analyzing the ground for a moment, he leapt down, his double-jointed legs bending and absorbing the shock even better than Bo would. He shot Bo a beaming grin.

"Yep," he said.

"Good," Bo congratulated. "Now do it again, with a higher branch. Keep doing it until you can do it throughout the tree, for as high as will support your weight." Ryan nodded.

"Right." With that, he began leaping higher. Bo let him go at it until evening, and they went home and ate by dark. Ryan had managed to make it more than halfway up the tree.

It was not long after dinner and dusk that a knock came at the door. Bo hid a small smirk from Ryan as he looked confused. "Well," he said as he hid his smile, "open the door!"

Ryan tentatively opened the door to find Colette standing there. He stumbled back and fell over himself, landing with his bum on the floor and his hands behind him. The exact shape of his legs was hidden by the dim light as Bo had let the hearth fall to dull, dying flames.

"Are you all right?" Colette asked, reaching to take his hand as Bo smothered a chuckle.

"I-I'm fine," he stuttered, hiding his lower half under the table as he leapt into his seat. Colette cast a glance at Bo and he shrugged.

"Come in. Close the door, if you'd please," Bo said.

Colette closed the door and sat at the table across from Ryan. Bo sat at the bed and drank out of his flask. When Colette gave him a funny look, he raised it and said, "Water with honey." Content, she turned back to Ryan.

"You see very well in the dark," she remarked.

"I, uh..." he began, squishing against his chair. Bo cleared his throat to catch Ryan's attention and mimed for him to relax some. Ryan looked back at Colette and did just that, exhaling and leaning forward slightly in his seat, pulling his hat further over the right side of his face. "Yes, I can. I've always been able to see well in the darkness."

"That is pretty amazing, you know," she said.

Ryan seemed not to know where to look. "I-I don't know. Is it amazing to be born different from everyone else?"

"Well, some people might find it scary or odd, but I think it's amazing," Colette said. Ryan looked at Bo, who just waved him off and took another drink from his flask. He understood how Colette might have mistaken it for liquor, but at least it wouldn't make him dead-drunk, and it kept him from being able to laugh out loud at the boy.

"What about when it makes them look scary?" Ryan asked.

"When it makes them look scary?" Colette asked, putting a finger to her lip in thought. Ryan nodded. "Well, they can't help it, can they?" Ryan shook his head. "You're like that, aren't you?" she asked then.

Ryan looked at Bo, horrified. Bo shrugged. "You get to choose how close to her you want to be."

Then, "I'll show her mine if you do." Ryan turned back to Colette and nodded, swallowing.

Colette's eyes sparked with curiosity, and she eyed Ryan expectantly. He gave a shaky sigh and pulled his hat up. Even with the dying fire giving little light, the contrast between the two halves of his face was easy to see. Bo could hear Colette catch her breath before she let it out slowly. "It's not really that bad," she said. Bo almost spat out his swig of honey-water in laughter, and Ryan blinked in surprise. "Is that all?"

Ryan stood up and let Colette take a long look at him, and when she furrowed her brow he lifted one leg. Her small brown eyebrows shot up, but all she said was, "Oh."

Bo began laughing even harder, unable to swallow his mouthful.

She squinted at him and asked, "Are you sure you aren't drunk?"

Finally, Bo managed to swallow before he broke down and blurted his laughter into the night. After recuperating, Bo looked at the two, who were staring at him like he was utterly insane—Ryan hadn't even sat down again. And, maybe he was losing his mind. Ryan really had shown her his 'defects,' and she really had blown them off like a double of Olea. But after a few more moments passed and Bo didn't wake up in his bed, he realized that he was not going crazy. He grinned at the two.

"Sorry, but I expected this to go much differently. Acceptance, I was as prepared for as denial; I just thought we'd have to wait for you to wake up from fainting." With that, he placed his flask to the side and took off his cloak, folding it and putting it beside him on the bed, showing both of his lean arms. He chuckled again, giddy with the strangeness of everything. He imagined a stranger coming into the house, and imagined their view of everything. Then he found it still more hilarious, but he managed to control himself now. "Ah, it is a very good thing that I don't drink, I think," he said finally, craning his neck and staring up at the ceiling. "I'd almost certainly be thrown into an asylum."

"So..." Colette began, bringing Bo's attention back. "What exactly are you two?"

"Half-demons. Both of us had a demon parent as well as a human one," Bo replied, bringing his left hand in front of his face and working it, staring at the silver fur and sharp claws. He stilled himself and said, "These are the 'gifts' they gave us."

"Well, at least it's better than not being born at all, right?" Colette asked.

Bo laughed, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Ah, not always. Colette, can you imagine what life must be like for us?" Bo continued without waiting for an answer. "I think you could. When I was a boy, I once tried to play with a boy from a nearby village."

Ryan nodded, sitting once more. He'd heard this before.

"I didn't understand why it was necessary to cover my arm then, and his mother saw me and screamed. The village came after me with fire and metal, and I ran back to my mother. And after that, she had no choice but to kill them all, to protect both us and the forest." Bo could remember the screams as his mother ate people, guilty only of fear, snarling with a terrible fury to protect her child. And her tears as she saw him leave because of that day.

Colette stared at his arm in shock then, not sure how to take this new information. That, or she was appalled. Bo couldn't place the exact expression, or to what it was focused on. "I'm..." she began.

"If you're going to apologize, don't. You didn't do this to us. Just understand that you can never tell anyone what we are, not even your sister. Just try and see things like most people would, and understand their fear. Understand the situation."

Colette pursed her lips for a moment and set her jaw before responding. "I understand."

"Good. I think Ryan would be a little heartbroken if you didn't," he said, causing Ryan to splutter an excuse to her, replacing his hat and putting it over his face. Bo laughed.

Three years later...

Bo watched as Ryan leapt from branch to branch, light as a sparrow. Colette watched from below, sitting next to the basket with the three's lunch on top of Bo's cloak. Both children Bo now considered his own, and they had grown well under his watch. "All right, Ryan!" Bo called into the trees, their leaves just beginning to change color. "Get down here and spar with me! Progress report before we eat!" In an instant, Bo felt Ryan hit the ground behind him and try to catch him in a headlock. Bo ducked and twisted out of the way in a second. "You'll have to do better than that with an enemy who's seen you in those branches!" he growled with a grin, facing the boy.

"Oh, shut up old man!" Ryan called with a light voice, charging forward and leaping up and over him with a flip, trying to catch Bo's head and shoulders and bring him down. Bo ducked and Ryan sailed overhead, landing on his bare feet and whirling to face Bo again, a challenged grin on his face. Bo whipped himself around and went low to swing his leg beneath Ryan as he ran at him.

Ryan saw the blow coming, leapt over it and used Bo's position against him. He tackled him and rolled, getting Bo off-balance. Bo let them roll and left Ryan panting on top of him, pinning him down. "Good," he congratulated. "You've passed the simple test."

"Thank you for the sincere congratulations," Ryan replied with a roll of his strange eyes, a smile creeping onto his face as he pushed his hat back up onto his head.

"I never tire of watching you two," Colette said from where she sat, the sun sparkling in her green eyes. "But I do get hungry. Lunch?"

"Absolutely," the boys replied, getting up, Ryan giving a hand to Bo.

The three ate and chatted about the nice weather, the forest, and Ryan's training. "You've gotten much better, you realize," Colette told him.

Ryan looked away, his face becoming red as he pulled his hat over his face.

"Now, don't give him a big head about it," Bo chastised.

"He has, though," Colette protested.

"I am aware. I just don't want him to get arrogant. Freezing is the worst thing you can do, but..."

"Arrogance is the next. I know, Bo," Ryan said, taking another bite out of his bread. Bo looked at him, unable to hide the bit of pride in his eyes. Ryan certainly had grown. He glanced over at Colette as well, thinking the same. The two were so close in age and close to him that Bo could almost pretend they were his own children, just without Olea.

Almost.

"So," Bo said as he ate, "I hear that there's a demon running amok in a forest not too far from here, wreaking all sorts of havoc. Care to test out your skills on it?"

Ryan paused in mid-bite, Colette pausing as well as she saw his hesitation. He finished the bite before saying anything, his fantastically different eyes downcast in thought as he chewed. "Where did you hear of this, Bo?" he asked then.

"Oh, a little bird told me upon request." Well, Dayo's wings were feathered.

"Well...sure. I have to get used to it, don't I?"

Bo nodded. "No choice," he agreed.

Colette looked between them. "I'm sorry, what? Did you say a demon in the woods? Are you talking about those woods a little northwest of here?"

"The same," Bo said with a nod.

"I heard a passing hunter was torn to pieces in there! Is it safe?"

Bo gave her a withering look.

"Sorry, right. 'Nothing is safe,' correct?"

"Exactly. And we know no normal human around here can take care of this, so our elimination of this demon will help keep your little village safe, too."

Colette shot Ryan a worried look.

He gave her a soft smile, taking off his hat and placing it on top of her fluffy hair. "I'll be fine, Colette."

Her worry didn't disappear, and she peered at Bo. "I'm worried for you, too, Bo. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course. But I'm an old man. Ryan's closer to you. Don't give me that look. It's clear that you're still more worried about him. But let me ask you something: do you trust his word?"

"Yes?"

Bo looked at Ryan, tilting his head toward Colette as he said, "Promise you'll come back to her."

Ryan turned his gaze to Colette, his strange eyes locking onto her green ones. "I promise I will come back."

She searched his eyes for a moment. "Promise for Bo, too," she finally said.

"What, you don't trust my own word for that?" Bo asked

Colette peered at Bo and shook her head.

"I promise," Ryan said, bringing her focus back to him. Satisfied, Colette stood and returned his hat.

"Well, farewell for today. Keep the basket," she added as Ryan grabbed it from the ground and offered it to her. She walked out of sight and toward home.

Ryan turned to Bo. "She's still worried."

"Extremely," Bo agreed, taking another bite of his cheese.

"What do we do about it?" Ryan asked.

"We come back."

***

The next morning Bo and Ryan readied themselves for a small excursion to the demon's forest, packing food and water for the next two days before leaving. The woods were quiet as they trekked, and even the river only burbled as they passed it. The wind roared the loudest as they ran through the morning and afternoon, the demon the only thing on their minds.

Once they arrived, they could sense something was wrong about the forest. It was dark, as if the light never reached it, and silent as death. "Great spot for a picnic," Ryan remarked, staring into the ominous place. Bo huffed through his nose. If Ryan could joke, his nerves were fine.

"In we go. Leave the bags in the trees here," Bo said, tossing his supply sack to Ryan, who caught in and leapt into the branches. He was back down in an instant.

"Ready," he said.

Bo gestured for him to follow, and then they crept into the woods. They started to slosh in the swampy ground, and Bo had them take off their shoes, giving his shoes and cloak to Ryan. Ryan put them in the tree with the other supplies and was back with Bo in a moment.

"Ryan," Bo said, his voice hushed, motioning for him to come closer.

"Yeah, Bo?"

"I want you to scout from the trees. If you see something, come and get me. If something sees you, you shout for me. Understand?"

"Got it," Ryan replied with a nod. He leapt into the trees and away to the heart of the forest. Bo leapt up into a tree as well, crouching and waiting for Ryan.

"I don't like the way that water smells," he muttered, staring down at the boggy ground. A sour, suffocating scent had been assailing his nostrils. He glanced around at the trees. "These aren't swamp trees," he noted. A shudder ran down his spine and he looked to where Ryan went. "Why haven't I taught him how to swim yet?"

When Ryan finally reappeared in front of him, he released an anxious breath. "I saw a pretty big demon," he reported, perching on a branch next to Bo's. "It's definitely big enough to tear someone apart."

"Good work, Ryan; now show me." Ryan led the way deeper into the woods. The stagnant, dark water had no clear depth, and Bo wrinkled his nose at the odor it produced. Near a bit of high ground sat a large salamander-looking creature that made a strange growling noise below the men in their tree perches. Ryan made a motion of leaping down onto it. Bo shook his head and held up a finger.

Bo peered down at the creature to see what it had for weapons. From what he could tell, it had sharp claws but no discernable eyes, which meant that the reason it was staying close was either because it was listening to them or smelling them. As a test, Bo broke off a branch and dropped it on the ground by the creature. It didn't move, but it twitched its tail. Bo looked at Ryan and tapped his nose. Ryan nodded.

"It will probably feel for vibrations as well," he said in a low voice. It didn't seem to care much about noise, but as a precaution, Bo wanted to stay quiet. The creature had begun making a loud clicking noise, closing and opening its mouth. Bo assumed it was trying to lure them in some way. That, or it was thinking of how tasty half-demons might be.

"So what do we do?" Ryan whispered, peering down at the demon. Bo followed his gaze.

"From my experience, water-dwelling demons are nearly always venomous. The venoms can vary in effect, but they're almost guaranteed to be fatal. Well, for us, most would just be incredibly painful. So, first, we stay away from its mouth and claws."

"Okay, then where do we hit?" Ryan asked, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Hm." Bo stared down at the demon, wrinkling his nose, both in thought and at the stench that rose from the water. The shiny black body of the demon was only a silhouette in the dying light, further darkened by the dense trees. Much time had passed while Bo wasn't paying attention. "Its head is the widest spot, and the weakest. We go for the base there. You have that knife I gave you, don't you?"

"Right here," Ryan said, pulling a modified carving knife from its wooden sheath—Bo's, until Ryan's eighteenth birthday had come.

"Good," Bo said with a nod. "Leap down and shove that into the base of its skull. Right here," he said, turning his head and pointing to the area he spoke of. "But be careful."

"No joke," Ryan muttered, looking down.

"Try and jump so that you land on the top of its muzzle. You'll be able to kill it better that way, keeping its jaws shut. And try not to get in that water."

Ryan looked at Bo, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong with the water?"

"It smells wrong. I noticed it earlier. And it's at its worst here. Just be careful, all right?"

Ryan nodded. "I didn't plan on going for a swim, anyhow," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile for a second. It disappeared as he looked down. He tightened his grip on the knife, the knuckles of his hand turning white.

"Take a deep breath. It's waiting for you: don't let it have the advantage of your fear. And don't freeze."

Ryan glanced up at him, taking his advice with a nod. Then he leapt down onto the creature, his feet and knees lying on the monster's muzzle. He plunged the knife into the back of the demon's skull without hesitation. The beast screeched, making Bo cover his ears. It rolled, and Ryan yelped as he was buried in the water and the demon stopped moving.

Bo shouted a curse and dropped down. "Ryan, I hope you held your breath," he muttered as he shoved the creature's body off the boy.

Ryan emerged, spluttering as he shot up into the trees. He lay down, gasping, on a branch, clinging to it for dear life.

Bo removed the knife from the demon's body before joining him.

Ryan gave Bo an exhausted glance as he settled on the branch next to him. "Sorry," he gasped. "Looks like I went for a swim after all."

Bo's nose twitched at the proximity of the water's odor and asked, "Did you drink any of the water?"

Ryan nodded.

Bo set his jaw. I should have told him to be careful of it rolling. "It's all right. I'm probably just being paranoid. Let's get back to the mouth of the forest," he said with a jerk of his head toward where they had come. "We'll rest a moment before we go back."

The two returned to the forest's edge to make camp, lighting a fire. They ate, and Ryan fell asleep almost the second he was full. His light, whistling snore had barely assaulted the air when Bo felt Dayo enter his head.

Good evening, Dayo, Bo greeted, watching the flames of the fire lick the night sky.

"Good evening, Bo. How did it go?"

Fairly well. The demon seemed to have made a strange swamp for itself, but other than that it didn't seem too powerful. Ryan dispatched it within a few seconds.

"That sounded like a hint of pride at the end."

It was.

"You also seem a little hesitant. Is something wrong?"

That demon. Bo thought. It seemed...too easy. You understand what I mean?

"I believe I do. But perhaps you don't give the boy enough credit."

Maybe. But, I don't know. That demon didn't seem to be a very smart creature. It certainly wasn't very tough. I just feel...I feel that I've missed something.

"I will fly over there and see for myself, then. I'm not very far." Bo heard thunder approaching and saw the clouds, but judged that it would just miss the forest for now, though it was heading for the cabin.

Watch out for the storm.

"I will watch, but it may collect me anyway."

A few minutes later, Bo glanced up to see Dayo speed overhead. You really were close.

"Yes, I was. I'll take a look here. You get some rest."

Got it. I'll take Ryan back to the cabin in the morning. Good night. And thank you.

"Good night."

The next morning was gray and dreary. Ryan and Bo awakened and ate breakfast, gathered their belongings, and began the trek back. Bo looked at Ryan as they ran. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Hm?" Ryan said, looking at him with tired eyes. "Oh, yeah. I'm all right. I just didn't sleep very well."

"Well, we'll be back home soon. You can rest there. After you see Colette, of course," Bo added. Ryan seemed to put a skip in his step after hearing his friend's name. "I'm sure she's worried. She'll be quite happy to see you back." Ryan began pulling ahead and Bo smiled as he ran faster to keep pace.

They were back at the house soon enough, the sky above still dead. Ryan dropped his things off and gestured in the direction of the village, his face asking permission. Bo waved him off and he was gone in an instant. "I'll be hunting for some dinner if I'm not home when you get back here," Bo called after him.

Bo went out to the field where he and Ryan had come. It felt like so long ago. He could remember the timid, innocent thing he'd adopted, so scared of him but so quick to trust. The boy who hadn't wanted to hurt him now challenged him in play-fights, and the one who had asked permission for a name now soundly voiced his thoughts.

Bo was following a herd of deer through the plains as he reminisced when he felt Dayo enter his head. Dayo? he asked, continuing after the deer.

"Bo, I am so, so sorry," Dayo said immediately, a wave of guilt coming with the thought.

What's wrong?

"I am sorry," Dayo apologized again.

Dayo, tell me what it is, Bo thought. He was getting a very bad feeling.

"I am so sorry, I wasn't paying attention. You were followed, Bo. You were right. That demon was weak; there was something wrong. The real problem demon was in the water."

"I knew it!" Bo growled, too impatient to think anymore as he sprinted back to the cabin. "Where is it, Dayo?"

"I'm not sure. I've lost sight of it. Its movements are fairly slow, however."

"Probably because it's on land," Bo said, storming over the bridge and stream. He stopped at the cabin, which had been broken into. The door was half broken, and the interior was torn apart, though nothing seemed to be missing. Bo cursed. The sky overhead cracked, thunder rolling as rain began to fall. "Perfect!" he snarled at it.

"Bo, I think it was after Ryan. You yourself said something was wrong with the water, didn't you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Did Ryan swallow any?"

"Well, yes. Tell me your point, Dayo," Bo snapped.

"The water seemed to be a way of tracking prey; whatever ingests it gives off a particular scent."

"So Ryan just became a walking beacon for a demon as he walked into a human village?" Bo growled as he leapt into a sprint towards the village. He'd made it only a few steps before a girl's scream echoed through the forest beside a cry of pain. "No!" Bo cried, charging even faster. Not again played over and over in his head.

He found Colette in a tree, holding onto a branch for her life, her hair flattened to her head as the rain poured down. "Are you all right?" Bo called. She nodded. "Where's Ryan?"

"A demon took him that way! He put me up here!" Colette called, pointing in the direction of the brook.

Bo cursed to himself again, looking toward the river. Turning back to her, he called, "I'll be back for you!" before he ran off.

"Bo!" he heard from the river as he got close.

"Hold on, Ryan!" he roared, stopping at the bank. I won't just let you die, he thought as he glanced up and down the water, already rushing with the downpour. "Where are you?" he muttered before spotting something large downstream and darting to follow it. He pulled up beside it and matched its pace.

Ryan was fighting to get his head above water as a demon pulled him downstream and tried to drown him. The demon was large and appeared to be some sort of lizard-horse beast, with sharp teeth sunk into Ryan's arm and clawed horse legs and a lizard tail and gills on its throat. It wasn't allowing Ryan to get out of the water despite his efforts, and began tearing into the arm it held. Bo yelled and dived onto it without a second thought, finding its scaled neck and trying to press his claws under its jaw, but it kept its vicious hold. It began thrashing in the water and kicking out, and Bo could see Ryan was getting pummeled.

"No you don't," Bo snarled, squinting to keep the water from blinding him. He jabbed his claws into the monster's eyes, blinding it. It let go of Ryan as it screamed, and Bo managed to snap its neck with a yell.

Bo let go of the demon's body and dived into the water to find Ryan, grabbing him and letting the demon's carcass pass over before springing out of the river as lightning cracked overhead.

"Come on, Ryan," Bo said, laying him on the bank. The boy looked like a drowned rat, his clothes torn and his hair plastered to his face, his eyes closed. His right forearm was badly torn, and he was covered in gashes from the demon's claws. "Dayo!" Bo called, turning his gaze to the sky.

"I can hear you."

"Then help me," Bo pleaded, listening to Ryan's silent chest, the rain melding with the tears that ran down his cheeks.

"I can't."

"Help me, Dayo!" The dragon was silent for a while.

"I will take care of the demon's body."

"With Ryan," Bo cried, his voice and heart breaking at once. He knew Dayo could do nothing, but he wanted him to try. To at least try.

"Boelik, you know that I cannot."

Bo looked at Ryan's pale face, at the human and demon all at once. The sharp eyes that couldn't see anything anymore, open or not. The face with two sides, each side making him a monster to the other. Bo wanted to vomit. He stumbled away and did just that in the river.

Coming back to Ryan, he knelt beside him and let the rain douse him in his grief. "Ryan, I am sorry," he said to his friend, his voice as lifeless as Ryan's face. "You have no idea how sorry I am that you had to be born like me. You were like my own son." Raindrops fell at the corners of Ryan's eyes and it looked to Bo like Ryan was crying with him.

It was a little while later when the rain began to let up and Bo heard Colette calling him. He got to his feet, his body cold and numb, and went to her. "Bo! Are you all right? Is it safe?"

"It's safe," he replied with an empty voice, leaping up and bringing her down from the tree. Once on the ground she peeked around Bo to the woods where he came from.

"Where's Ryan?" she asked.

"Not coming back," Bo said. Colette stared at him, her wide green eyes searching his face.

"Not coming back?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You mean he's...?" Bo nodded, and she fell to her knees and began to cry.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed to Bo, covering her face with her hands. "It's my fault. It came after me."

"It's not your fault," Bo said, kneeling next to her. "It came after him. He was trying to protect you, but it had the advantage. He didn't know how to swim. It's my fault for failing to teach him." Everything is my fault...like always.

Colette looked up at him and threw her arms around his neck, crying on his shoulder. He embraced her in a comforting gesture and took her back to the ravaged cabin. They grieved together until the storm let up, Bo in silence and Colette in tears. When the storm finally stopped, the evening sky hidden by the moving storm, Bo escorted Colette home.

"What will we do now?" she asked him just outside of the village. The girl and half-man would part ways here.

"Well, I think I will continue to use the cabin as a home when I'm not needed anywhere else. As for Ryan, I'll bury him when I get back." Bo locked a hard gaze on Colette. "You should forget about us."

"Forget about you?" she said in a hurt voice, curling her dainty fists to her heart. "How could I? You both saved my life, and I..."

"You loved him. I know. But he's gone and you should move on." Colette looked at him, searching his face.

"You won't," she accused.

"No, I won't. But I don't have anyone to move on for, either. You have a family—parents, a sister. I'm sure you'll find a good man, and you'll have children. Ryan wouldn't want you to stop your life because his is over. You know that."

"I didn't think he would. But I don't think I could love someone else."

"Keep living. I'm sure you will find someone who makes you feel safe again; choose him," Bo said. "If anything, have kids, then tell them about a young boy with a strange face who saved a young girl from a horrible monster. About the strange man who lives somewhere in the wood."

Colette stared at him for a minute before nodding. "All right."

"All right," Bo replied, turning around and heading back to the trees. He heard Colette go back into her house, heard her greet her family, forcing a happy tone. He continued to the river.

At Ryan's body, Bo had almost expected him to sit up and say something. Maybe yawn. Maybe stretch. Maybe he expected him to move. But none of that happened. He was just where Bo had left him, just as pale and cold. Just as dead.

Bo knelt next to Ryan and took a moment to look. Ryan's face appeared calm despite what he'd been through, and the blood was mostly washed away by the rain. As Bo bent over to pick him up, he paused, having a realization. Then Bo pulled the boy close to him. I never did this while you were alive, did I?

Three years, and I never hugged you.

I was a fool.

After some time, Bo scooped up Ryan's limp body the same way he had swept up Olea the day he took her home and sang her to sleep in his arms. He sang softly to Ryan's closed ears as he carried him, not bothering to swallow the tears that fell down his cheeks. He carried him through the dark woods, his voice winding, forlorn, through the dying leaves that fell from the trees. "My heart breaks again," he sang softly. "I lose what I love, and live with what I lose."

When will I lose myself?

Bo continued singing to his deaf audience as he gently put Ryan on the ground and dug a grave for him in the fields they had once come from. Dayo landed as Bo finished digging, silent as Bo continued singing in a whisper to the dead, tapping the tip of his tail in a soft drumbeat to Bo's grief, and watched as Bo carefully put his companion in the ground. Dayo pawed the loose dirt back overtop, and the two were silent.

"I am sorry, Bo. I did not mean for this to happen," Dayo said, eventually breaking the silence of the cold night. The life around had hidden itself away from the rain and the beasts it had brought about.

"I know. I would have buried him anyway, someday, I knew," Bo said. "He did not stop in time like me. He wouldn't have. But it wasn't supposed to be today, Dayo. He was supposed to live in the happiness I couldn't."

"You did let him live that happiness, Boelik, I'm sure. All of the training one takes can only prepare him for so much, however. Death takes her prey in every chance she can," Dayo said. He looked at the new grave, his wet fur hanging in tight white locks. "I was preparing to meet him. I am sorry that I never had the chance."

"So am I. You would have made quick friends, I think; you both have more patience than I could ever have," Bo said with a bitter smirk.

"Bo," Dayo rumbled. "There are still no new assignments. Will you be staying here?"

"Yes."

"All right. I shall find you when the next half-demon is ready to be trained." Bo held up his hand in a wave without glancing at Dayo. "Good-bye for now, then," Dayo said, lifting off and flying away.

Bo walked back alone and found Ryan's hat on the ground by the river. He dusted it off and took it home, putting it on the back of Ryan's chair as he reset the table and chairs and cleaned up the cabin. He ate a dinner in silence for the first time in years. As he went to bed, he breathed in the scent of his former partner. He dreamt of Ryan that night:

Bo stood near the bridge, on the side that looked out to the field. Bright light filtered through spring trees, breathing new life into every tree and shadow. Ryan waved to him from across the bridge, a grin on his face as snowflakes began to fall. He seemed to call something out, but Bo couldn't make out what was being said.

Olea appeared behind Ryan as Bo moved to approach, making Bo freeze in his tracks. His wife gave him a little wave and a sorry smile as she guided Ryan away, and Bo could see her telling the boy something. Ryan looked back at Bo with regret written on his face as he was led away. Bo reached out, words forming on his lips to call them back to him and to apologize.

And then he woke up.

Bo sat with another meal in front of him, staring at the hat on the chair across from him. He remembered talking and laughing as he had eaten just a few days before. He remembered having someone to laugh with. He stood and went outside, leaving his wooden plate behind on the table. The food was untouched.

Autumn passed, and winter came and went. When spring returned, Dayo informed Bo of a new assignment. Bo traveled to the village and let Colette know of the new development, and she hugged him as she said farewell. He told her he would be back within ten years, but just to check once or twice a year for a fire in the cabin. With that, he went to his new charge.

Bo protected and trained his new half-demons until they decided Bo was no longer needed; so he left one night. When Bo informed Dayo of this, he was told to let them go; the half-demons were trained well enough to make something of themselves.

Bo went back to Ireland two years earlier than he'd expected.

He and Colette soon reunited for a picnic, and she informed him that she'd found a suitor. Bo told her that he was glad for her, and feigned happiness despite the hole he felt inside. It was not long before Bo had another assignment and left the country again.

This time Bo's charge died of a disease, and he returned within three years. Colette was married and with child now. He got to see the babe once before he left again.

The pattern of coming and going to and from Ireland continued for many years, even after Colette and her children were dead and buried. Bo watched the generations pass, watched as more of his pupils either fled from him because they felt they had no reason to stay, or they passed onto the next life because he was unable to protect them. Still he continued to return to his Irish cabin, long after his visitors stopped coming.

He helped the descendants of Colette's family in secret, leaving them game on their step whenever famine hit, and wood in the winter. From the edge of the forest he watched the children as they played in the fields, or from the branches as they ran in the woods. Somehow, none ever found his cabin.

***

One day, Bo headed into the town. What used to be a quiet little hamlet with horse-drawn carriages was now a bustling place with loud things called cars and artificial lights everywhere. He sold some game, bought new clothes, and asked someone to tell him the date—the whole date.

"May seventeenth, nineteen eighty-five," he muttered to himself as he trekked home. He looked up at the ancient branches above. "It's been a long time."

Bo began to open the door to his cabin when he heard something coming from deeper in the woods. He peered around and saw nothing, so he put his belongings in the cabin and cautiously walked in the direction of the constant noise.

It was in the area where Bo and Ryan once trained together that Bo found a little boy, looking to be about eight years old. The boy was sobbing into his arms, sitting curled up on the ground. His short, fluffy, dirty-blonde hair was tousled by the breeze in the forest. Bo walked closer to him and knelt beside him. "Hello," he said.

The boy, startled, lifted his face from his arms and stared with puffy eyes at Bo, who held up his right hand in submission. "It's all right, I won't hurt you. What's your name? I'm Boelik—Bo for short."

"Kian," the little boy responded.

"What's your last name, Kian?"

"Quirke."

"I see," Bo said. One of Colette's. "Well, Kian, what are you doing out here?" The boy bit his lip. "You can tell me."

"I ran away."

"You ran away? Well, what for?"

"My Da got mad at me." Kian sniffled.

"Oh, I see. And you got lost and want to go back, don't you?"

Kian shook his head. "I just want to stay here."

Bo looked at him pityingly. "Kian, I'm sure this wasn't your father's intention. He was probably scared for you. People get angry when they get scared sometimes. Your parents care for you very much, I'm sure. And what about your mother? Do you want her to cry because her little boy ran away?"

Kian sniffled again. "I don't want Ma to cry."

"There you are. Are you hungry at all, Kian? Do you want to eat before you go back home?"

Kian shook his head and wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Okay," Bo said, standing and holding out his hand. "Get up, then. I'll take you home. But no more tears, all right?"

"Mm-hm," Kian said, wiping his away. Then he stood and took Bo's hand.

"That's a boy. You'll be home soon." Bo walked Kian back home, to the edge of the little town that had evolved from the one he'd once known. Cars rolled down the streets, and the homes of supposedly better quality loomed over the paved streets. Bo glanced down at Kian. "Can you get home from here?"

"Uh-huh," Kian said with a nod, releasing Bo's hand. "Thank you for taking me home."

Bo waved him off. "Just don't get lost again, all right?"

"Okay," Kian said, starting toward his home. Bo watched him go for a moment, waving to him as the boy turned and waved before running to his house. He leapt into his mother and father's arms as they saw him from their porch. Bo turned away and walked back to his cabin for another night alone.

The next morning Bo awakened and ate breakfast. When he finished, he sat back and stared at the old gray hat on the chair across from him. He shook his head. "It was almost easier to burn the house and everything in it," Bo remarked to no one in particular, "than to live and see something of the people I loved every day." Staring at the hat, he continued, "It's been almost two hundred years since then. Maybe my own time is going to run out soon. Wouldn't that be nice?" Then he stood and put on his cloak, clasping it over his right shoulder, letting it fall over his left side.

Bo meandered out to the field where Ryan was buried in an unmarked grave. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" he said to the grass beneath his feet, to the body somewhere beneath that. "I hope that I can join you wherever you are when I finally die, decrepit old man that I am." An image of his wife and Ryan waiting flickered through his mind.

"Boelik!" someone called from behind him.

"Hm?" Bo turned, and at the head of the path from the woods came Kian, running up to him. "Kian? What are you doing here? Did you run away again?"

Kian shook his head and gazed up at him with his big brown eyes. "No, I didn't. I came out for a walk with my Da." He pointed back to the path, bringing Bo's attention to a man coming upon them, taller even than himself.

"Hello there," the man said, his eyes calmly meeting Bo's. He had brown hair as well, and the resemblance to Colette reminded Bo of how long it had been since he'd seen her alive. Though one definite difference stood out—his eyes were of two different colors, the right being green and the left a bright blue similar to Ryan's. "I'm Mr. Quirke. I take it you're the Boelik who helped my boy?"

Bo nodded, holding out his hand to Kian's father. "Boelik. You can call me Bo."

"Well, Bo, thank you very much for bringing our boy back to us," Mr. Quirke replied, taking the hand.

"You're welcome. I was just heading home when I heard him in the woods, to be honest."

"Where do you live?" Mr. Quirke asked, releasing his grip and letting his hand fall back to his side. "I haven't seen you in town."

"I'm not in town. I live in a cabin in the woods."

"Really? My parents told me a story of a strange man who lived in the woods. A magical being, I think they called him."

"Well, I assure you, I'm no delusional hermit. I've just lived there for a long time. It's far more peaceful that way. Birds make better company than cars."

Mr. Quirke nodded. "I understand the sentiment. It's why my boy and I like to go for walks like this. I didn't expect to find the man who helped us, though."

Bo shrugged. "Fate can be kind or cruel," he remarked, glancing at the dirt below his feet. "It seems as though it were kind to you today."

"Very," Mr. Quirke replied.

Silence followed for a moment. "Well," Bo said. "I suppose I should head back home now."

"Oh? Well, all..." Mr. Quirke began to say until Kian interrupted.

"Wait," he said. "Won't you walk with us?"

Bo looked at the young boy, his big brown eyes staring into Bo's hazel ones pleadingly. "Well?"

Bo sighed.

"Please," Mr. Quirke added, picking up on his son. Bo held up his hand in surrender. "All right. But don't expect me to come to dinner with you afterwards. I have my limits."

The three walked back into the woods, strolling along the dirt paths that wound around the old alders. They talked about various things, Bo continuing to be vague and distant with his answers. However, the Quirkes didn't seem to mind at all. It seemed as though they understood his want of privacy and didn't prod for answers. Bo returned the favor.

At the edge of the forest that looked over the town, Bo said, "This is where I break away."

"All right," Mr. Quirke said. "We'll be coming out again tomorrow. Would you like to meet us here again?"

Bo shuffled his feet and glanced back at the woods, the wind whispering through the branches. After a quick peek at Kian he sighed and said, "Well, I don't see why not."

Around the same time the next day, Bo met Kian at the edge of the woods. "Where's your father?"

"He said he had some work that just came up and had to be done," Kian replied. "But I said that I'd still go with you."

"Well that's good of you," Bo said. Kian grinned, and they began to walk through the forest. They were around the bridge when Bo noticed that Kian kept staring up at him as they walked. Bo peered down at him. "What is it?"

"Why is your hair so long?" Kian asked.

"Hm?" Bo wondered, holding up some of his shoulder-length hair. He cut it regularly so it wouldn't get longer, so it had stayed a pretty steady length over the centuries. At least he hadn't ever grown facial hair. "Isn't this the normal length?"

Kian shook his head. Bo thought back and realized that men seemed mostly to wear their hair short now. Oops.

"My Ma cuts mine all the time. Do you want me to ask her to do yours, too?" Kian asked.

Bo gave an awkward smile. "No, thanks. I'll figure something out."

They continued to walk for some time, though Kian didn't ask about much else. Bo eventually took him home before returning home himself. He found his knife in its 'new' sheath by the bed and took it to the river so that he could cut his hair. It wouldn't do to stand out quite so much.

It was evening by the time he was satisfied. The short cut reminded him of a boy's hair, but he shrugged it off. Fashion was something he never understood, even after all this time. Bo soon returned to his home, thinking of the next day's walk as he fell asleep.

***

It was a few years late. A light snow covered the ground, and Bo was headed to the normal meeting place. When he arrived, though, no one was there, and he leaned against a tree to wait. The sun began to set, turning the fresh white snow into a pink sea. Bo watched it sink, the snow beneath gradually changing to violets and blues. And when still neither of the Quirkes had shown up, Bo sighed and glanced down at his feet. That's when he saw the tracks and paid new attention to the village.

There seemed to be a commotion on the Quirkes' porch. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Quirke in conversation. By the looks of it, Mr. Quirke was trying to calm down a panicking missus, and trying to keep her voice down. "The boy is thirteen years old," Bo muttered. "Don't tell me he's run off again?"

Nonetheless, Bo followed the barefoot tracks deep into the woods. He sped up as he noticed the steps were getting more erratic. The trail led him past his cabin and closer to the heart of the woods, and he began to hear something. Bo paused to listen.

The sounds were a deep grunting and panting. It seemed like a large animal was in distress. Bo looked up and leapt into a tree, bounding from branch to branch until he saw the source of the noise. It was a large deer, stumbling about in the snowy woods with enormous, clunky antlers. It certainly wasn't anything Bo had seen before, in Ireland or elsewhere. He was tempted to hunt it for a moment when Dayo decided to pop in. "Don't kill that!" he shouted in Bo's head, making him grab for his ears.

Dayo! Quit yelling! What is it?

"I know it's been a while, but do you remember what I told you? About morphers?"

You're saying this is one of them? Bo asked as he removed his hands and took a new look at the deer.

"Yes. I found a line of ancient morphers in your vicinity. It is a dying breed. Apparently, that little Colette you once knew was carrying the ability."

Colette? How do you know?

"My visions are sometimes convenient," Dayo replied.

Dayo. You are increasingly frustrating.

"I know. The life of a prophetic unicorn-dragon is quite a burden at times."

Dayo, Bo warned.

"I apologize. I remembered her from a vision, and then I had another where I saw you with her another time. I found you knew her then."

Her name, though? I don't recall telling you that. Bo watched the deer below smack its head into a tree with its awkward antlers.

"I hear a surprising amount of your thoughts when you don't pay attention."

Dayo! You've been eavesdropping on my thoughts!?

"I'm sorry. Either way, that is a morpher, not a piece of prey. Do not kill it."

Where are you?

"Overhead. I was coming to tell you."

Two hundred years late? Bo thought, glancing down again at the strangely drunken deer-morpher.

"My visions are only sometimes convenient."

Well, I have the information now. I shall take this from here.

"If you say so." With that, the old dragon withdrew, and Bo's head cleared.

The deer gave an elk-like call, making Bo wince. He dropped down from the tree in front of the animal, putting up his human hand to show it he meant no harm. It started at his sudden appearance, tripping and falling to the ground. The two stared at each other as the animal stood again, standing firmly now. Bo could hardly see how a human mind could be thinking in that body.

"Wait," Bo said a thought coming to him. He felt like a fool for not thinking of it sooner, even after Dayo said it. "Kian?" The deer's ears perked at the name. "Oh, Kian..." Kian lowered his head and despite not being able to understand him, Bo could somehow feel that he was sad. Sad and scared.

"Come here," he said. The deer walked unsteadily toward him until it was close enough to touch. He really was uncannily large, his head already higher than Bo's. Bo opened his arm and Kian stepped into a hug, Bo's arm stretching around his thick neck. "Don't be afraid," he told Kian. "You'll be all right."

After a moment, Bo was holding a crying Kian, naked and scared. His legs buckled and he sank to the ground, Bo kneeling to follow and keeping him close. It was freezing outside, and snow had begun to fall again. "See, you're all right," Bo said calmly. "Come on, let's get you home and warm."

"It's cold," Kian said in reply, his eyes squeezed shut as he pressed against Bo.

"I know," Bo said. "And it's late. So keep your eyes closed. I'll take you home."

"Okay," Kian said. Bo scooped him up, his cloak covering his left hand, and he was careful not to claw Kian, who passed out in almost the same instant. Bo sped him back down the path, coming back to a normal pace at the edge of the woods. Mr. Quirke was just getting there, carrying a light and a blanket and looking prepared for a search. He spotted Bo carrying his son and a wave of relief played over his face.

"Bo!" he said, his relief echoing into the air. "You've helped us again."

"Mr. Quirke," Bo said with a nod. Without hesitation, he continued. "I know of your son's...condition. Now let me ask: do you have the same?" The man's shoulders slumped.

"Oh. You've found out, have you? Well, yes. I'm the same as my son."

"I take it that you were trying to keep it a secret."

Mr. Quirke nodded. "Yes, of course."

"Well, if you ever need a place to train him, Mr. Quirke, I know of one. And I've trained people in demon-fighting before," Bo added.

"Call me Ryan," Mr. Quirke replied with a nod. Bo stiffened and let Ryan Quirke take his son from him and carry the boy home alone.

Bo walked home thinking upon the name that just met his ears. "Ryan Quirke," he said, nearing his cabin. "Ryan and Colette...you two could have been Kian's ancestors." He was silent as he opened the door, and he closed it softly behind him. But I failed you.

As he stretched out on the old bed, he looked around the quiet, decaying cabin around him. He closed his eyes. "One day, everything will come back to haunt me again. Just like one day took the chance of family from the two of you."

The next day, neither of the Quirkes showed up to walk, and Bo went home. They did not come out the next day either, nor the day after. Eventually, Bo gave up waiting and stayed inside in the evenings until winter was over.

When spring arrived in Ireland once more, Bo went back to waiting again. The Quirkes returned one evening late in the season. Ryan and Kian walked to greet Bo, waving as they joined him. Kian seemed hesitant and avoided his eyes, and Bo assumed that he'd be training tonight.

"Sorry about not being out in the winter," Ryan said with a guilty smile. "The wife was very strict. After she got over the fact that we were deer, of course."

"Perfectly fine," Bo replied, waving him off.

"So," Ryan began, "where are these training grounds?"

Bo nodded. "This way." He began to lead the way into the forest.

"Hold on a moment," Ryan said. Bo glanced back and saw that Ryan was taking off his clothing, Kian following his lead. Bo returned his gaze back to the path. "Sorry," Ryan apologized behind him. "We're going to change. You mind if we leave our clothes here?"

"Someone might stumble upon them. Fold them up into a pile and I'll take them with us."

"All right, thank you. They're by this tree," he replied.

After a moment, a tall deer came up beside Bo on his right, enormous antlers appearing over his head. "Ryan?" The deer dipped its head, its bright blue eye gazing at him.

Kian's much smaller deer came up on his other side. "Kian." Kian turned his head to look at him straight on, blinking his large brown eyes.

Bo glanced between the two before turning back and grabbing the pile of clothes with his right arm. With the heap in hand, Bo led the way between the bucks to the training area. He saw Kian looking around once they arrived and assumed he must have been remembering their two private meetings. Bo stopped and turned around to face the two, taking a few steps back to keep them both in sight at the same time. He set the clothing on the ground next to a tree and said, "All right, this is it. Is it decent?"

Ryan nodded, his odd eyes strangely human even as a deer.

Bo nodded in return and said, "Then I'll be up here," leaping into the trees. The two bucks stared up at him for a moment before Ryan shook his head and looked back at his son, bleating to attract Kian's attention.

The two worked until dusk, practicing charging at trees and each other, after Ryan helped Kian get used to his deer body, of course. Those first few minutes of trotting around at anything above a walk left Bo stifling some laughter.

As the shadows began to take over the ground, the two walked below Bo's tree toward their clothes. Bo averted his eyes as they changed back and waited to return his gaze to the ground until Ryan called his name. He leapt down and looked back and forth between father and son. "You two were interesting to watch," he remarked. "Can I ask—I've been wondering—what sort of deer are you?"

"A breed called Irish elk," Ryan answered. When Bo looked confused, he added, "The actual animal has been extinct for a few thousand years. Changelings like us are all that are left."

"I see."

"How did you jump so high?" Kian blurted in the following silence.

Bo gave him an amused glance. "You have your skills—I have mine." Bo waited a moment before making a quick decision. "You two...have you ever heard of half-demons?"

"In myth, sure," Ryan said.

"If they existed, would you kill them?"

Ryan gave him a curious look. "I don't know. Why?"

Bo turned his gaze down and brought his left arm out, preparing to be hit and to run. "Because I'm one." Kian looked at his father, who stared at Bo with shock.

"Well...er...I guess the answer would be a no, then," he stammered. Bo peered up from below his brow. "What?" Ryan asked. "You saved my son twice. I couldn't kill you."

"Well," Bo said, clearing his throat and hiding his arm again as he lifted his head to look the man in the eye. "I guess we should start back then."

The three were about halfway back when Bo couldn't stand it anymore. Both Quirkes were talking about Kian's training, and Bo had been trying to listen. But a question kept nagging at him until finally he stopped in the middle of the path, the crickets chirping as the other two realized that their companion was stopped, and they halted themselves, turning to face him.

"What is it, Bo?" Ryan asked, waving a firefly out of his face. There were hundreds of them out.

"Ryan, do you know where your name comes from? Why you were named Ryan?"

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand," he replied, furrowing his brow above his mismatched eyes. Kian glanced between the two.

"Where your parents got the name Ryan. Was there a reason?"

"Well, I suppose so," Ryan answered, still confused. "My aunt—on my father's side—she told my mother a story that's been passed down through our family for generations. My mother fell in love with the sentiment that the name came with, I would think."

"The story. Can you summarize it?"

"You sure?"

"Please."

Ryan nodded slowly. "I think...yes. It was about a little girl who fell in love with a boy by the name of Ryan with a deformed face. They grew close until one day the two were attacked by a monster. Then Ryan died protecting the one he loved."

"An interesting story."

"Yes. My great-grandfather swore it was true, his great-grandfather having been told by his own mother." Then, "Are you all right?"

"What? I'm sorry. Am I all right?" Bo asked, shaking his head before looking Ryan in the eye.

"You look pretty pale, there," Ryan said.

"I always look pale," Bo replied. He didn't, as a matter of fact. And at the moment he was feeling rather queasy.

"Maybe we should take Bo home first?" Kian suggested, peeking up at his father.

"No, no," Bo insisted, waving them off. "I can get home just fine. But, would you two be all right to get home by yourselves?"

Ryan nodded. "Come on, Kian," he said to his son. Kian gave Bo a worried glance, to which Bo just waved and turned toward his cabin.

"She actually did it," he muttered once he was alone, walking through the dark woods illuminated by fireflies. "Ryan lives on. But..." he trailed off. "That face. Why is only his left eye blue? Seeing that eye peering at me from that deer's face was like when Ryan would look at me." Bo shook his head. "Living so long is ruining me."

Bo reminisced as he ate his dinner, staring at the old hat on the other chair. It was tilted just how Ryan had had it when he was trying to hide his face. Bo sighed and drank from his flask, staring into the honey-water despondently as he swirled it around. It normally made him happy to have a sweet drink, but today it wasn't doing the trick.

Maybe I should start drinking. It would make things a little fuzzier, take the edge off my memories."

But, not for the first time, he struck the idea down. Whenever he thought about it, he thought about what Dayo had said to him so long ago, when he was destroyed inside the first time—"Never forget, even the things that hurt." Bo shook his head at the thought.

"My story is going to stick around whether or not I forget it for a few hours. And I'll just feel more guilty when I remember it again. No, it's best to take this sober." Even though it meant that he dreamt of Olea and Ryan's dead faces when he went to bed that night.

Morning came, and Bo trudged through the day, worn out from his nightmares. When the time came for him to meet with the Quirkes, however, he managed to come out of his slump. As he met them and turned while they undressed, Ryan asked, "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," Bo replied. The two changed shape and came up beside him, and he went back to retrieve their clothes. He walked between them back to the clearing and leapt up to his watching spot.

After some time, Ryan stood under his tree and stared up at him.

What?" Bo asked the deer below him.

Ryan bleated. "You realize I don't understand a word you're saying to me." Ryan shook his head and stared at him for a moment more before beginning to change back. Bo averted his eyes and the man spoke.

"I wanted to know if you could help train Kian."

"Train how?" Bo asked, staring at a beetle crawling on the tree.

"You said you'd trained before. I figured you might have some ideas. And you have been watching, so I thought..."

Bo raised his hand to halt him. "All right. I have some ideas. Now, please, change back." I didn't like seeing the first Ryan naked as a babe. I don't want to see the second.

When Ryan bleated up to him, Bo peeked back at the ground. Somehow he looked quite self-content. Bo dropped down and walked past him and over to Kian.

Kian looked at him and whistled. Bo shrugged. "I can't understand you, remember." Kian shuffled his feet, hooves pounding the ground. "Well, let's begin. I'll go easy on you to start."

By the end of the training, Kian was exhausted, Ryan was proud, and Bo was yawning. The Quirkes turned back to their human selves and donned their clothes before the three began the walk back, Bo between them. As they walked, Ryan educated Kian on how to maximize the use of his other form.

Meanwhile, Dayo entered Bo's mind and informed him of a demon relatively near that he couldn't get to himself.

I'll take care of it, Bo replied, slowing and falling back from the others. Dayo withdrew, and Bo was left with the task of telling the other two of his near departure.

"So," he said, interrupting the conversation. They glanced back at him, mildly surprised.

"What is it?" Ryan asked as they continued walking.

"I'll be gone the next couple of days. A demon's popped up a little too close to here for comfort." The three had stopped walking altogether.

"You're going to eliminate it?"

"Of course. Like I said, I'll be back in a couple of days."

Ryan nodded, but Kian looked reluctant to let Bo go. "But what if you don't come back?"

Bo gave him a comforting half-smile. Ryan must have told him stories. "I promise. I'm a good fighter; I'll be back. You couldn't stop me from coming back here with a thousand demons." When the boy still looked unsure, Bo stepped up and put his right hand on Kian's shoulder and showed him his left. "See this?"

"Yeah?"

"This was promised to me by my parents as soon as they decided to birth me. What came with it was the will and the strength to protect the ones I love, to come back to them at the end of the day. Even though, because of it, I haven't had many I loved, not many to protect. But I will protect you. Understand?"

Kian nodded.

"Good." Bo hid his hand back under his cloak and removed his other from Kian's shoulder, taking a moment to ruffle his hair. "I'll be back in a few days," he repeated. "I'll separate from you here," he said to Ryan, turning his back on them and heading back toward his home.

After a few days, Bo was back. The demon hadn't been a large problem; Bo had eliminated it. It had even had an overpowering stench that allowed him to track it easily. Bo lay on his bed when he got home as the day was ending. He sniffed the air and wistfully imagined Ryan's scent was still there. When it wasn't, though, he sank into an exhausted sleep.

It was evening when he awakened again, and he headed off to meet with the Quirkes. Since it was later than normal, he leapt into the trees and hopped from branch to branch toward the training area. Both bucks were there and tangling with each other with their large racks. Bo sat in the trees and watched as Ryan charged his son down.

Kian fumbled back to his feet and charged back, catching Ryan in the chest. "There you are," Bo whispered. Ryan stumbled back and happened to glance up at Bo, Kian following his gaze. Kian bleated happily upon spotting him, rearing onto his hind legs for a moment. Ryan looked at his son and began to charge him, and Bo called out, "Pay attention!"

Kian turned to his father just in time to lower his head and tangle their antlers. The two bleated at each other, and Ryan soon overpowered Kian. They untangled, and Kian bleated something at Ryan, who shook his head with a stomp of his hoof before gesturing an excused leave with a wave of his large head.

Kian trotted back underneath Bo and changed back to his human self. Bo self-consciously turned his eyes upwards. "Bo!" Kian called below him, his voice light and happy. "You're back!"

"You're naked," Bo replied.

"Huh? Oh, sorry!" Bo heard shuffling below him before Kian called up, "Okay, I'm decent!"

"Good," Bo replied, looking down again. Kian beamed up at him. "And I hope you've learned not to get distracted."

Kian grinned wider.

"What, did you miss me that much?"

"Yes," Kian replied.

Bo gave him an amused smile. Well, I missed you too.

"Well then, maybe you'd like to train with me the rest of the night. Ryan?" Bo turned to the buck for permission.

Ryan looked up at him before dipping his head and moving over to his son. He snorted at him.

"You're leaving? All right, one second," Kian said, putting Ryan's clothes in his antlers. Bo watched as he left.

"You can understand him?"

Kian glanced up at him and nodded. "Yeah, I can. So, how are we training?"

"Human, hand-to-hand. You've got enough deer training from your father—let's see something in your human skin," Bo said, dropping down. Kian nodded. "Now, let's start."

***

The days passed, and life became a habit. Bo would go hunting or walking throughout the day, come back and train with Kian and Ryan, then go home and finish the day. Once in a while he would have a demon to deal with, as Dayo was right; they were multiplying. Too much like rabbits, in Bo's opinion. And much less edible.

It was three years before Bo had another 'assignment'. Half-demons, unlike normal demons, hadn't been multiplying much at all. In fact, it seemed that the more demons there were, the fewer half-demons there were. Bo wasn't sure if it was because demons would just mate with other demons or if other demons—or humans—would kill the offspring. In any case, it made Bo's life generally easier.

As Bo received the assignment, he alerted the Quirkes of his upcoming leave. "How long will you be gone?" Kian asked. He'd grown tall—he was already at Bo's height.

"Oh, I don't know. It depends. Sometimes it's a year—sometimes five."

"Five years?" Kian asked, his face sullen.

Bo nodded. "Don't look so sad," he said. "It's unfitting. I promise, I'll be back. And I doubt it will take five years."

"Well, be back soon," Ryan said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Kian's learning a lot from you, and I'm not very good at hand-to-hand combat myself. You're the only other teacher around."

Bo looked at Ryan's mismatched eyes. "Don't worry." Then, with a small smirk, he added, "And if you're so bad at it, maybe you should have Kian teach you what he's learned."

"Maybe I should," Ryan replied, grinning back at him as he pulled his hand away.

"In any case," Bo said, getting back on topic, "I'll be leaving now." He shook hands with Ryan and Kian before beginning to walk away. But Kian couldn't seem to hold back any longer and came up behind Bo. And when Bo turned around, Kian gave him a large hug.

"Okay," Bo said, embracing him in return. "Come on, you pile of mush. I have to leave." Kian separated from him to watch him go with soft brown eyes that threatened to overflow.

Bo was back at his cabin in a matter of a few moments. He gathered his things, staring for a moment at Ryan's hat on the chair before heading to where Dayo waited in the field. Then he left for his newest assignment.

***

"Damn it!" Bo cried as a demon dog bit into his arm, his voice drowned out by the drumming of heavy rain. "Get off me, you stupid mutt!" Bo had just gotten back to Ireland after two years, and he found a demon squatting in his house. It leapt at him as soon as he opened the door.

How it had gotten in there in the first place, Bo was sure he could answer—the cabin was beginning to fall apart after two hundred years of occupation and desertion, after all. Why it was there, he had no idea. No one came around the cabin, and there weren't many travelers to feast on in general. Nonetheless, Bo and this demon dog were having it out on the ground, rolling in the mud. The mutt with five toes and very sharp claws on each paw had Bo pinned to the ground, its ugly, stout muzzle gripping Bo's left arm by the shoulder. Its huge canine teeth sank into his flesh like it was nothing, eyes shining like hungry coals.

"I said, get off!" Bo yelled, using his other hand to jab his thumb in the beast's eye. It howled, and Bo managed to jam his other thumb into the opposite eye. The mutt scrabbled backwards, tripping over itself to escape. "I don't think so," Bo snarled, raking his claws across its belly.

The beast fell over with a scream as its lifeblood poured onto the ground, and Bo finished it off. He got a good look at it then, even in the dim light. It was like a mastiff with much larger canines and a larger body, and it had those strange toes. Its legs erupted in erratic scales. Bo reached out to grab the beast when his shoulder started to burn. Wincing, he covered the wound where he had been bitten, the bloody fur slick under his hand.

"I'm a fool," he said through gritted teeth, staring at the beast's strange canines. Every beat of his heart seemed to pulse fire through his veins. "I am a fool," he repeated, heading toward town. He left the serpent-fanged mutt where it lay.

As Bo walked to the village, he cursed himself for paying so little attention. He had been in such a glad hurry to get back that he had been careless. "How the hell did I live six hundred years like this?" With each step he took, his body felt like it was going to erupt in flames, and he struggled to take another. "You can't even beat this without help, fool. Better hope the Quirkes haven't stopped their training sessions or you're a dead man." Though he had to admit...the idea had some appeal to him.

Of course, he remembered how sad Kian was to see him go. And he remembered his first conversation with Dayo. His memories were what kept him determined to get to the village, to get help. Not to die.

But he didn't make it there. Bo collapsed on the road, just within sight of the forest's edge. The rain stuck his clothes to him and plastered his hair to his face as he tried to crawl forward with his good arm. "Get up," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Get up, get up, get up!"

He managed to get to his feet for a moment, but soon collapsed again. "You're almost there," he pleaded with himself, gazing with desperate eyes at the edge of the forest, blinking the rain from his eyes. He could hear the town, just out of sight. "Almost..."

The venom was paralyzing him in pain. Alone, it wasn't enough to kill him; he had too much demon in himself for that. However, he had no clue how long it would last or how sick it would make him as he tried to fight it off. He might just starve to death before he beat it. "Should have at least died in your own house," he chastised himself in a murmur, managing to curl himself into a ball before lapsing into unconsciousness.

Bo wasn't sure how long it had been when he awakened. "Bo!" came a voice. Someone was shaking him.

"Ryan?" Bo whispered. He was parched and burning.

"Kian!" the voice replied.

"Kian?" Bo said, his gaze fuzzy as he peered up at the face with brown eyes. It was still raining, but it was darker now.

"Bo, are you all right?"

"I think..." Bo began before trying to get up. His limbs wouldn't take his weight. "I can't get up," he admitted. "Demon." His stomach rolled.

"Let me help you," Kian said, putting Bo's left arm over his head and putting his own underneath Bo's right. He lifted him with ease, and Bo realized that Kian was taller than he was. If he hadn't been in pain, he might have laughed.

"Bad idea," Bo replied, releasing that day's meals. "Sorry," he grunted.

"It's fine," Kian replied, turning around.

"Take me back along the path," Bo said.

"But the doctor—"

"Can do as much as you can, and is probably a human. Take me back."

Kian tried to do as he was told, but Bo stumbled. So Kian picked him up in both arms just as Bo had once done with him and followed his rasped directions. Soon, Bo was in the cabin trying not to writhe as the venom worked.

Kian looked worried. "What do I do?"

"You wait with me while my body kills the venom," Bo replied through clenched teeth, trying to sound calm. "Meanwhile, help me wrap this arm."

Kian rummaged around for bandages and, finding them, gently did as he was told. "How long will you be paralyzed?" he asked.

"Well, the paralysis part seems to be over already," Bo hissed as another wave of pain hit him. "Now it's just in my system and moving through."

"Will you be all right?" Kian asked.

"Not a clue. I'll probably be ill a few days." He stifled a groan as his stomach lurched. "At least."

"I'll stay with you, then."

"Thank you, Kian. But you should at least tell your father."

Kian looked unsure for a moment before replying. "Bo, my father's dead."

"What?" Bo demanded, sitting up. He immediately regretted that, retching up the remains of what was in his stomach and wincing in pain at both actions. His body fluxed between fire and ice as a fever was emerging to take care of the demon's little gift.

"He died last month," Kian said, stepping over the pile on the floor and gently pushing Bo back down.

"I'm sorry," Bo said.

"You didn't know."

"What happened?"

"He got ill."

Bo regretted his earlier choice of words. "At least tell your mother."

"Not until you're resting."

Bo sighed, wincing as pain pulsed through him again. Deep breaths were a no-no. But for Kian, he let sleep overtake him.

When he woke, Bo found Kian sitting at the table, staring out the only window Bo had put in the cabin, after Ryan had gone. It was about mid-afternoon. "How long?" he asked, his voice rasping.

"Just one night. Do you need anything?" Kian asked, looking at him.

"First, water. Second, the demon—you saw it?"

"The big dead mutt?"

"Yes. I need you to burn the carcass."

Kian stared at Bo for a minute before taking a lighter from his pocket and heading out to do as Bo had asked.

The next few days were slow. Kian took care of Bo as fever struck, cleaning the cabin of his messes and changing the bandages on his wounds. Half of the time Bo was asleep. Still, he was proud of Kian, who never complained even once.

At last, one morning when Bo awakened, he found his fever broken. He sat up in bed, looking over at Kian, who'd fallen asleep at the table. Bo shook his head, but smiled. He got up and draped his cloak over the boy's shoulders. Then he made breakfast.

Eventually Kian awakened—just in time to eat. Bo put a plate of meat and berries in front of him, but Kian only stared at him. "Are you sure you should be moving?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Bo replied, sitting in Ryan's chair. "I heal quickly. Eat your breakfast."

Kian glanced down at the plate made of polished wood, then up and around the cabin. It was practically falling apart, with cracks in the walls and holes in the roof that led to leaks that pooled on the floor. "Why are you living here?" Kian asked.

Bo noticed now how deep the boy's voice had become. "Because there's no place else for me to be," Bo replied, biting into his bit of venison.

"You could live with me and Ma, I'm sure," Kian said, his brown eyes fixed on Bo.

"Kian, that would be a disaster waiting to happen," Bo sighed, leaning back in his chair and bringing out his left hand. "Remember?" Kian looked down at his plate. He popped a blackberry into his mouth, furrowing his brow in thought.

"What about if we at least repaired this place?" he suggested, swallowing.

"I don't know that I'd bother. I only have about twenty years left in this place at the maximum," Bo said.

"What? Why?" Kian asked, his eyes wide. "You aren't leaving, are you?"

"Probably then."

"What about me?"

"Well," Bo said, "we'll see."

Kian kept his gaze on Bo a moment longer before looking back around the cabin. "Twenty years is a long time, though."

"Shorter than you might think."

At that, Kian returned his gaze to Bo. "Bo," he started, his voice wary, "how old are you?"

Bo sighed. "Oh, about six hundred and fifty-four. Roughly. Honestly, I'm not sure that I should even bother keeping track but I do."

Kian simply blinked at him for a moment, stunned.

"I'm old, I know."

"Ancient would be a better word for it," Kian replied. He quickly put another berry in his mouth as Bo glared at him flatly.

***

Kian began making a habit of visiting Bo. He would discuss his schoolwork and his friends with Bo as if he were his father. Bo would listen patiently and offer suggestions when he could as to how to fix problems, and then the two would go out and train.

One day, as Kian was talking about his school years being over, Bo asked, "What about your mother?" He threw another log into the fire.

"Huh?" Kian asked, looking over his shoulder at him.

"You've come to me with this sort of thing quite a bit. What about your mother?"

"Oh," Kian said, glancing away again. "Well, Ma's been sort of...off, since Da died. She goes to work and cooks dinner and all, but she doesn't really ever feel like talking anymore. I don't...I don't really know what to do," he admitted.

"I see," Bo said, throwing a final piece of wood to the hungry fire before sitting in Ryan's old chair across from Kian, making sure not to knock the hat off. "Well, I wish I could help somehow, but I can't. Grief is something that she'll have to overcome on her own."

Kian nodded. "That's all right. It's not like it's your fault, anyway," Kian said.

Bo nodded and the two were silent for a while.

"Kian, what year is it, exactly?" Bo ventured.

"You don't know?" Kian asked, bemused.

"I haven't asked anyone in a while."

Kian looked at him. "It's nineteen ninety-five. June, if you want to know that, too."

"I think I could have figured that much out."

Kian grinned. "Well, either way, it's getting to be about sunset," he said, looking out at the golden light that filtered through the forest. "Will we train today?"

"There's nothing preventing it," Bo replied, standing from his seat. Kian followed him out of the door, and they went to the normal spot.

***

"Come on, Bo, hurry up! I'm going to beat you today!"

"Thirty-three years old and impatient as ever," Bo muttered, walking patiently to the training grove as Kian jogged ahead of him. "You haven't beaten me once all this time," he said, raising his voice. "So what makes you think you can do it today?""No clue! But I'm going to try!"

Bo rolled his eyes. "So much energy," he muttered. Then, "You aren't even changed yet! Get ready to start!"

"Right!" Kian said, going behind a tree to take off his clothes and change, his deer form spreading out from behind the tree. He galloped over to Bo, dancing in place and snorting, his great rack blocking quite a bit of sun.

"Are you going to fight with me or dance with me, Kian?" he said. Kian snorted and held still, lowering his head so it was level with Bo's rather than three heads higher. "Ready?"

The elk snorted.

"Then...go!" Bo shouted, leaping out of the way to avoid the immediate charge and dashing behind the elk.

"Predictable!" he called. Kian reared and turned back around, leaping at Bo and trying to plant his hooves on Bo's head.

Bo ducked and rolled to the side, letting Kian's enormous weight plow the ground instead. "If that's the best you can start with in all this time, you're going to need remedial lessons!" he called as he swiped at Kian's shoulder, but Kian sidestepped just in time and lowered his head in the same moment, turning his rack to catch Bo in the jaw.

"Good," Bo praised, leaping back. He rubbed his jaw. "Good thing we aren't hitting any harder," he grumbled before leaping back at Kian, who was simultaneously charging at him.

Bo intended to take hold of Kian's throat, but Kian lowered his head in time to catch Bo in his antlers. Kian continued charging ahead with new vigor, and Bo knew the boy was aiming to catch him between a tree and his enormous rack. Managing to find a handhold, he leapt off in time for Kian to plow into the target without him.

Kian shook his large head and turned back to Bo, stomping the ground. Bo was very tempted to laugh at his pupil's frustration.

Once again Kian tried to charge at Bo, but Bo was prepared and stepped aside, ducking as Kian tried to hit him with his rack. As Kian missed and began to turn, Bo managed to run and leap onto him, using the antlers as a handhold as Kian tried to buck him off.

"Use more of your front," Bo directed. "I'm not sitting on your rear!"

Taking his advice, Kian began using more of his shoulders. He also decided to add a lot of spinning to the mix. However, Bo had a good hold on Kian's side with his legs and a good grip with his right hand. Using his left arm, he quickly stretched and took a jab at the soft part of Kian's throat. The game was won.

Kian stopped bucking, his breaths heaving. Bo straightened on his back, patting his damp neck. "Good fight. Try being a little less predictable, though."

Kian snorted.

"Also, don't leap at an opponent as fast as I am or as vicious as I can be. I could have ripped open your chest, which you left open, or your throat, and managed to get away before you hit the ground. And if something's on your back, try backing up and rearing them into a tree. It'll at least drive the air out of them and make it easier to shake them off."

After Bo finished doling out advice, Kian knelt and let Bo get off. Then he went back behind his tree, donning his clothes once more. "Well, I tried," Kian sighed, emerging from behind the old alder.

"You did. I still won."

"Yeah, well, either way, I planned on visiting Ma and Da's grave before night set in, so I'll see you tomorrow," Kian said, giving Bo a lopsided smile.

"All right. Have a good night," Bo said, giving Kian a small wave before the boy turned back and walked away. Bo looked up at the sunset sky through the trees and turned to head back home.

As Bo lay on his bed staring up at his tattered roof that night, he felt Dayo join him. Hello, Dayo, he greeted.

"Hello, Bo," Dayo greeted, rather happily.

Is it time?

"He is ready."

Where is he?

"America. Michigan, roughly."

I don't have a clue as to where that is. My maps are a bit outdated.

"Well, that's fine. I'm going to be the one to fly you there, after all. But to find him, I would recommend some espionage."

Spy?

"Yes, spy. On dragons, to be specific. We don't actually hoard physical treasure, after all—that's fallen rather out of style, considering so many were killed for their jewels. We do, however, hoard knowledge. And such a special case is a special treasure to know of."

All right, I suppose.

"You suppose?" Dayo huffed. Before Bo could retort, however, he continued. "Well, anyway, shall I pick you up in the morning?"

Yes—wait, Bo thought, having a realization. Actually, could we do it in the evening? I'd like to say good-bye to Kian.

"I can manage that. At sunset, then? At the boy's grave?"

Yes. At Ryan's grave.

Dayo fled from Bo's mind then, leaving him alone with memories.

"So," he whispered to himself. "I guess we'll be leaving Ireland for the last time tomorrow, won't we? And we'll have to burn all of this," he said, gazing around in the dimness at the cabin he and Ryan had built. His eyes stopped on the old gray hat that rested on the corner of the chair. "Time to go," he murmured, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

***

In the morning, Bo got up and packed food for the trip. He stored his cloak away as well, and when he was finished he looked toward the window. The day he'd awaited for more than six hundred years was here.

Bo went outside to listen to the birds. He sat in front of his cabin, his back to the graying, decrepit wall, holding Ryan's hat in his hands. He regretted not keeping something of Olea's as he stared at it, his heart aching with all of the things he had had to give up over the years. But before he could dwell on any of that for too long, Kian showed up with a beaming smile on his face.

Giving him a skeptical look, Bo asked, "Why are you grinning?"

"Because I feel like today is going to be fantastic, Bo!" Kian said, plunking next to Bo in the grass. He was a good head taller than Bo, sitting or standing. Bo didn't look at him.

"Well..." Bo began, lifting his eyes from the hat and gazing out at the forest. The sun filtered through the trees, the leaves bright green with it. The ground below was like an ocean with the flowing light and shadows as a gentle breeze made the boughs above dance. "The day will certainly be nice here in Ireland."

"You've got that right," Kian agreed, gazing out at the forest alongside him with his warm brown eyes.

"It'll be a nice day to say farewell," Bo said, not wanting to say it.

"What?" Kian asked, stunned, flicking his gaze to Bo. "Today? Now?"

"Not now. This evening. I want you to see me off. Then I want you to burn the cabin. Take whatever you want from it first."

There was silence for some time. "Okay," Kian finally said. He then glanced down at the hat in Bo's hand. "You know, I never saw you wear that hat once."

Bo finally looked at him then, his hazel eyes clear. "That's because it was never mine."

"What do you mean?"

"It was a...a friend's." Partner doesn't do him justice. "He died a very long time ago."

"Who was he?"

"You remember that story your father said, when I asked him about his namesake?"

"The boy with the ruined face? That one?"

Bo nodded.

"So the reason you looked like you'd seen a ghost..."

"You remember it that well, huh?"

Kian scratched his head, embarrassed. "I was worried. Anyway, was all of that story true, then?"

"Every bit. The girl was an ancestor of yours. Ryan's eyes were mismatched like your father's. His human eye was the left one, and looked just like your father's as well."

"His 'human' eye? Was he a half-demon too, then?"

Bo nodded. "He was."

"Are you going to leave that behind?" Kian asked then, nodding at the hat.

"I don't know yet."

Kian and Bo both stared at the gray hat for a moment. "I think you should take it," Kian said at last, just as Bo decided for himself.

Bo shook his head. "I can't."

"Then...I'll keep it for you. For the next time. Then you can take it back. Right?"

"Right," Bo agreed.

With a sigh, Bo looked up into the trees and listened to the distant birdsongs. Everything felt so surreal, with the withering cabin behind, the peaceful forest ahead, a new country in the future, and a fully-grown Kian next to him. He glanced over at his friend and sighed, facing away again. "When did you grow?"

"Oh, just about every night since I was born." Bo gave him a baleful glare, and he laughed. "You're always too serious. One of us has to crack jokes, at least once in a while," Kian yawned, stretching his arms out. "Ah," he sighed, relaxing and looking ahead. "It's still so nice today, too."

"It is," Bo agreed. Kian peeked at him and returned his gaze to the woods, stroking the brown stubble on his chin.

"You know, I look older than you now," he commented.

Bo glanced at him. "You're right," he said, facing away again. "Old man."

Kian laughed.

They sat there well into the afternoon, content to chat. As Bo looked up at the sky and saw fiery colors seeping through the leaves, he said, "It's time to meet my transport."

"Already?" Kian asked.

Bo nodded and stood, handing him Ryan's hat. "Come on."

Kian took the hat, and they walked along the path, over the bridge and through the woods to the field. They waited for a few minutes, turning to look at the sunset over the trees. Then, in the distance, they heard something like thunder. Kian scowled up at the sky and said, "Well, it seemed like a nice enough day."

"It still is. I promise you, that isn't thunder," Bo said with a smirk, not taking his eyes off of the sky. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kian look at him questioningly.

Before long, Dayo was in sight, and Kian was standing dumbfounded as the unicorn dragon landed in front of him. He closed his eyes and braced himself as the draft Dayo created nearly blew him away, then went back to gawking. Bo laughed.

"Nice to see you again, Dayo!" Bo called.

Dayo rumbled upon spotting Bo and then Kian's face. "Boelik," Dayo said.

Kian started, obviously hearing him too. He stared at Dayo's face, trying to determine if he heard what he did or not.

"And who is this young fellow?"

"Uh, I'm, er...Kian," he stammered. "Nice to...meet you, I guess?"

"And you," Dayo said, his rumbling laughter coming again.

Bo laughed with him for a moment before turning to Kian. "Well, Kian, I'll be seeing you," he said, hazel eyes shining.

"I hope so," Kian replied, giving another quick glance at Dayo before turning to Bo. "I'll visit you sometime. Where'll you be?"

"I'll be-" Bo started before Dayo interrupted.

"In America. I'll come back and get you some time and take you out there," Dayo offered.

Kian stared for a moment at the dragon before nodding. "Thank you," he said. Dayo dipped his head.

"Then I guess I'm off," Bo said.

"I'll see you soon," Kian said, pulling him in for an embrace. Bo patted him on the back.

"All right, but only if you don't crush me first." Kian let go and Bo gave him a smile. We will see each other again.

Dayo rumbled for Bo to hurry. "It'll be worse if you dally," he warned. Bo nodded to him, then grabbed his sack of supplies where he'd stored food and his cloak.

"Good-bye," Bo called, mounting Dayo. He waved at Kian from above, and Dayo leapt off and away.

Kian waved as he shrank to the size of an ant, and Bo guessed that if he'd had Ryan's vision, he'd have been able to see him waving still long after that.

"Do you regret leaving him behind?" Dayo asked as they flew.

Not at all, Bo replied. I know I'll see him again. I only regret that I didn't know how to reassure him of such like Olea could have.

"He'll be fine. Maybe now he can find a woman to spend his time with instead."

Bo snorted. I fear he may be a bachelor forever. He hasn't talked of women since he was young.

"He may be taking after you."

Dayo.

The dragon rumbled beneath him, flapping his great wings as they rose above the clouds. "Sorry. You did fall into that one, however. Anyhow, I'd be more worried about getting some sleep if I were you. We'll be passing over an ocean. I hope you packed food."

I did. How long will this take?

"About a day in whole."

Are you sure you can still go that long without stopping?

Dayo snorted. "Positive. Now sleep, and by the time you wake I will probably be at the other coast."

If you say so, Bo replied, cozying into Dayo's fur before falling fast asleep.

***

Dayo ended up being more than right; Bo actually slept for most of the ride. When he awakened, they were soaring over a large body of water. The sunset shone over it, turning it into liquid gold, the waves glittering. Bo asked if they were in America.

"We've been in America the last few hours," Dayo replied, amused. "This is the lake called Superior. Michigan is surrounded by five of the largest freshwater lakes in the world."

Oh.

"There is this, Superior, then there are Michigan, Erie, Ontario, and Huron."

I get it, Dayo. A lot of water. I don't really believe that I need a geography lesson. Except maybe as to where to find these dragons of yours.

"Fine, I'll get to that. After we land."

On the ground at last, Bo sat cross-legged on the forest floor. Dayo had carefully landed in a grove of trees and lay next to Bo like a giant cat. "So," Bo asked, "where are these dragons of yours?"

"Well, they won't exactly look like dragons, typically," Dayo said, peering at Bo from the corner of his eye.

"Changelings?"

"All that remains of the species of dragons. Besides me, of course."

"How exactly am I supposed to find them, then?"

"Generally, they will be cold and rather factual, and less social with others. What may be more helpful, though, is the fact that fire-breathers will be the most common to receive information."

"How is that helpful?"

Dayo snorted, as if the answer were obvious. "Fire-breathers stink of sulphur, even as humans. So either they will continue to stink like rotten eggs, or they will wear a false scent strong enough to mask that."

"So I look for humans with an overpowering scent?"

"Yes. Hang close to them and eavesdrop."

"Where should I search?"

"Hm..." Dayo rumbled in thought. "Well, I thought you should try the small mountain area. Arvon. It's to the east of here. We tend to like meeting in high places, and as remote as we can get is all the better."

"Why didn't you land there?" Bo asked.

Dayo snorted and shifted his large head to better stare at Bo. "And cause suspicion? Among dragons? Bo, their eyesight is keen. They would have spotted you on my back immediately, and it would be clear to them that you weren't one of us the moment we landed. No, the more I can make it look like a passing dragon, the better. You shall simply have to deal with the run."

"All right, I understand," Bo sighed.

"At the very least, I can tell you that we are creatures of habit. And the habit around the ones you are looking for is to have a meeting every season. The next one of which just so happens to be in two night's time."

"Dayo! Why didn't you start with that?" Bo chastised. Dayo rumbled a laugh.

"Because it is somewhat entertaining to frustrate you, my friend."

Bo groaned. "You're rude."

"I'm an old dragon who enjoys his few pleasures."

"I see harassing me is one of them."

"Naturally."

The two bantered onwards into the night, when Dayo at last bade Bo farewell and flew off under the blanket of darkness. Bo stood, stiff, and looked to the east, trying to find the peak of a mountain. Seeing nothing, he sighed and leapt into the trees, heading off anyway.

Mount Arvon was a rather large hill, Bo realized, arriving at last. It was certainly an extreme compared to the plains he'd been living in within the last couple of centuries. It was the second sunset since he'd arrived in America, and he crouched in a tree and watched it as it painted the mountain with its light.

Bo waited at the mountain's base in his tree until night fell, when he began to hear something like thunder. He looked up into the moonless night sky, and saw a dark silhouette only discernable by the absence of stars it created. It landed higher on the mountain, and Bo detected a strong smell of sulphur. After the first came four more, each varying in shape and size, and Bo followed the five onto the mountain.

When he got up to the dragons, they were already changed and putting on their clothing. He couldn't see very well, so they looked rather like dark shadows that moved without hosts. Still, Bo managed to sneak closer and open his ears to the conversation.

"So, Droka, seems one of your friends had a little secret," said one voice, a gruff male who growled the word 'friends'.

"What would that be?" The responding voice sounded much younger, like a young-adult boy. He seemed to be acting intentionally relaxed.

"Oh, just that he was a half-demon." This one was an older woman, with a voice like ice.

"Do explain," came another man's voice. He sounded middle-aged and matter-of-fact.

"Well, one was attacked by the demon Oni. He then proceeded to rampage and turn into a demon himself. I had a raven friend flying overhead who saw it all. Then the boy turned back to his human self after his friends took him down. It seems he managed to take down a white she-wolf before it ended, however," the first voice said.

"Did she...die?" Droka asked. Bo had to strain his ears to hear.

"No clue. My friend came straight to me with the news after the boy turned back. I haven't sent anyone back to check since then. By the sound of it, however, it did not look good."

"Which one was it? That turned into the demon?"

"The one with the dark hair. The black wolf," the woman said. The dragons were quiet for a while.

A fifth voice spoke then. It was another young-adult, this one female with a gentle lilt to her voice. "At least no one else saw, right? After all, they are in the middle of the woods."

"True," the middle-aged man replied. "But we cannot afford to forget that the Sault is only twenty some miles north of there. Several thousand live there in close proximity. If he were to do that, there, then...news would spread like fire. Humans couldn't handle it, or him."

"We would have to remedy the situation as best we could," the older woman said.

"You mean kill all those people," Droka replied, lowering his voice.

"We would do what was necessary."

"You couldn't!" the young woman's voice came again, appalled. "We're supposed to protect people, remember?"

"It would be for the greater good."

"She's right," the gruff voice agreed.

"I don't think she is," the middle-aged man said.

"I agree. If we missed even one, for example, it would give them the opportunity to see us," Droka said. "And then we would be seen as monsters just as much as demons. Besides, how would we make it look like a human action?"

"Droka?" the young female hissed at him.

"I have to put it into their terms, Opal. I apologize," he replied in a low voice. The man with the gruff voice snorted.

"Your point is made. But what, then, do you intend for us to do? Sit idly by while this new development rages on and ruins centuries—no, millennia—of secrecy?"

"Of course not."

"I vote we kill him," the icy female said.

"I vote not," Opal and Droka said at once.

"I agree with them," the other man agreed. The woman snorted.

"What, then?" asked the gruff man.

"Just give them more time," Droka replied. "I promise, we—they—can handle it."

"They'd better be able to," the woman said. "Or else I will."

"Don't worry. They've got it," Droka replied. "So, what else do we have?"

Bo snuck away from the dragon's meeting then, melting into the darkness and fleeing until he was well out of hearing range. Once he felt safely out of the way, he looked up into the dark sky, the stars glittering above him. "So I should find this 'Sault' to start with. Then what? Run around the forests?" he thought aloud. Bo shook his head, closing his eyes and sighing. He stood like that for another moment before an idea came to him.

"They mentioned some friends," he muttered, putting a finger under his lower lip in thought. "And a white she-wolf. Wolf changelings, then? I would assume that would narrow it down, but only to someone familiar with those around here."

Bo turned his gaze back to the sky as he heard the dragons leaving. "Well, I certainly won't be asking them."

***

It was another week before Bo found where he needed to be. He managed to get directions in a town not too far from the mountain and from there found his way to the Sault—Sault Sainte Marie, as he discovered, was its proper name. Then, from there, he traveled south. He ended up in a small town called Pickford at some point and decided that he'd gone too far.

Bo backtracked to the north and checked in the woods by the main road. He wandered through the summer shade, watching carefully for any signs of wolves or people. The forest got quite dense for a while, and Bo thought he might have to find another way before the trees began to thin again and he emerged into a much more traversable area.

He only had to walk a little further to discover a pair of teenagers walking across his path. The boy stopped first, turning to face him and glaring at him with brown eyes as he lowered his head warily. Bo raised his right hand non-threateningly, keeping his left still under his cloak. The girl with scarlet hair that reminded Bo of Ryan's, turned to look at her companion as he changed into a black wolf and snarled at Bo.

She looked at Bo with marble-colored eyes, only a little greener than Ryan's. What Bo had to say, however, was aimed at the boy. "You must be the demon."

"What are you doing here?" the girl snarled, changing into a white wolf before Bo's eyes. She stepped out of her clothes just like the boy had and stepped up to be on par with him, mimicking his stance.

"I'm here to give you a hand with that," Bo answered, nodding to the black wolf, hand still raised. He was trying to be as abstract as possible about the black until he had a feel for how the she-wolf perceived her companion. Come now, I've been searching for a week. Give me a rest, he thought, exasperated as the two continued to bristle.

"That happens to be a friend of mine, and I'd appreciate that you'd at least acknowledge his gender," the girl snarled. Apparently, she saw the boy in a good light, even though Bo was certain this was the white she-wolf the dragons had spoken of. Though she seemed to be in good health, if a bit stiff.

"Calm down, girlie," Bo tried to say calmingly, a bit distracted with how she still seemed to be speaking English to him, "I just said—"

"Don't call me 'girlie'! And I heard what you said," she growled back, thrashing her tail in a cat-like manner. This is what I get for trusting the tongue of a present-day bachelor, Bo thought as Kian crossed his mind.

While Bo was trying to find different words, the boy piped up. "What do you mean, give us a hand? Looks like you've only got one yourself." He spoke coldly to Bo who glanced at his left side before returning his gaze to the two wolves.

That's it, the first lesson begins now, Bo thought, his face twitching into a snarl for a moment before disappearing from his spot.

In an instant, Bo had the boy in a choke-hold with his neck and paw in his right arm, still leaving his left motionless as he lifted the wolf's back paws a couple of inches off the ground. As the black coughed, the girl whipped her head around to spot the source of the sound. "Hey!" she yelled immediately, leaping at Bo and grabbing his forearm in her jaws.

Bo flashed the boy a look of surprise before letting go and shaking the girl off, darting back to his original position. He ignored the blood that welled on his arm from her teeth as he let it rest at his side.

The boy gasped for air and the girl glared up at Bo. "What was that?" she snarled, putting herself in front of the boy. "I don't know who you are, but about now I don't care. No one treats my friends like that."

"I wasn't going to kill him," Bo replied calmly. "I was just putting him back in his place. Though, I could have killed him if I had wanted to. And you as well. Isn't that proof enough that I won't?"

"No," she replied, staring back at him, her wolf's eyes a piercing blue. At that moment three more wolves burst out of the bushes; a gray, a scarlet, and a strange black and midnight-blue.

"What's going on?" the red demanded of the girl instantly, his chest heaving. He had a scar from above his left eye, across his muzzle, and to his right cheek.

"An intruder, obviously," the boy replied, now mostly recovered. The girl didn't take her eyes off Bo.

In a moment, the red was beside the white, glaring at Bo with stormy gray eyes. "Tell us your name and state your business," he commanded, lifting his tail.

"My name is Boelik. I'm here to give you a hand with him," Boelik said, gesturing to the boy. He was careful to use 'him' this time.

"Boa-lick? Sounds like he has an issue," the gray muttered in the background.

Boelik gave him a baleful glance. "Boelik. Not as in licking a constrictor." The gray sniffed haughtily.

"How exactly do you plan on 'giving us a hand' with him?" the blue and black wolf asked with a mild tone, his yellow eyes piercing Boelik.

"By teaching him self-control, to start. I heard he went on a rampage in demon form. I'm just here to help."

"How do you know about that?" the charge snarled, coming back up beside the white wolf, opposite the red.

"Overheard some dragon talk. They have spies everywhere, you realize."

"And what makes you think you can help him?" the red asked.

"That, sir, is a personal secret that I have no desire to share at this time. Let it suffice to say that I have personal experience with people like him." Boelik was struggling to remember his etiquette—mostly because it had been a long time since he'd last used it.

"And how are you going to prove that you won't betray us?" the gray asked, bristling. His green eyes narrowed at Boelik and seemed to be irritable-looking.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to trust me on that," he replied. At that moment, the girl shuddered throughout the entirety of her body, then sat and cocked her head at Boelik.

"I think we can trust him," she said, a hint of a question in her voice. It was as if a switch had been flipped in her attitude—rather than glaring at Boelik as though she wanted to kill him, she simply gazed at him with a quizzical expression.

"How do you know?" the boy and blue-and-black asked simultaneously, with various levels of aggression. The blue sounded more curious than anything.

"I dunno," the girl replied, continuing to stare at Boelik. "By my instinct's telling me that he's okay. Kind of like the time with you, Gen," she said, looking at the black wolf.

Gen growled one last time at Boelik, and then sighed and glanced away. "All right. If you say he's fine, I'll work with him."

"You see? I'm on your side," Boelik said.

"Don't cross me," the girl snarled, shooting her sharp eyes at him once more. "After having seen what you can and will do, I'm not going to trust you right away. Not a chance. Not like I could really stop you with that speed of yours, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't try if it came down to it."

Boelik held up his hand in a position of surrender once more, arm stinging where he had been bitten. "I'm just here to help."

"Then follow me," she said, nodding to the red as she stood. He returned her nod, and she turned, waving her tail in a gesture for Boelik to follow.

"What's your name?" Boelik asked after her.

"I'll tell you later," she replied. "Now hurry up and follow. There's a whole pack for you to meet."

###

This is a side story for a series Amy is writing about shape-shifters, like Kian and Ryan.

Amy Lehigh

Amy is a proud dog owner, animal lover, and Upward Bound student. When she isn't reading or writing, she's probably daydreaming, fishing, or riding four-wheelers. She enjoys a life full of dog fur with a Pomeranian/Japanese Spitz mix named Rusty (and yes, he is the white fur-ball in the photo).
Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, won't you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?

Thanks,

Amy Lehigh
