“Stop right there, thief brat,” a gruff voice called from behind him.

His body jerked with a start, dropping the bread he had stolen from the vendor stall on the street. His hands trembled for a brief moment, but he grit his teeth, snatched up his bread, and then ran. His breath came in ragged gasps, his bare feet hitting the cold pavement of the street below. He ducked into a side alleyway, grasping the stale bread to his chest.

His heart hammered in his chest, with fear, knowing if he was caught, he could very well be strung up for breaking the law. He hadn’t meant to- but he hadn’t eaten in days, and the shop owner was going to throw it out to the birds. The birds. When handfuls of children starved in the streets around him. Fury burned through him, as he ran, encouraging him as much as the fear. They would never understand. He wasn’t a starving kid to them- just some thief breaking the law. As bad as any other, murderer, or worse.

He stifled a whimper when he felt a stab of pain on his foot, and a white-hot heat. He stepped on something, perhaps an exposed stone. It didn’t matter, he had to keep running. Aurem could still hear the man’s feet behind him, even as he weaved through the alleyways. Stale bread, probably only half edible. He was possibly throwing his life away for stale bread! But it was more than he ate most weeks. And he knew that was the sad part.

He turned right down an alley, and slammed into what seemed like a brick wall. Only the wall grunted as he fell to his ass, hitting the ground below hard. A rough hand grabbed him by his dirty hair, and he let out a cry of pain, once more dropping the bread to the ground below. Another fall like that, and it might actually become fully inedible.

“There you are, scrawny rat,” another voice sneered down at him Aurem’s heart jerked in his chest, as he got the familiar burn of alcohol in the bastard’s breath. He wriggled for a moment, nails digging into the man’s skin.

“Get offa me!” He cried out, and then whimpered when the fingers curled cruelly tight in his hair.

“Oh fuck no, not when I can tell yer runnin’ scared, pet, why don’t ye let me help ye? For a price…” The man gave a dark chuckle, and Aurem felt hot breath against his ear. He shuddered, and then growled low, aiming a kick straight out, impacting the first thing within reach. As he was dropped, and the bastard cursed, Aurem felt satisfaction that his foot had connected with the bastard’s balls.

He spit on the dirty alley floor. “Fuck off, rot!” He’d encountered this man before. Wiley, sick as he was cruel, was the worst of the worst. As much as Aurem hated the city guard, this guy was worse. Much worse.

He felt a hand clamp around his ankle, and let out a yelp, as he was jerked to the floor. Scrambling to find purchase, Aurem clawed at the man above him, as he felt an angry weight press down. That stench of bad breath and alcohol burned Aurem’s eyes, as Wiley leaned in close. “You’ll pay for that,” he growled low, gripping hard on Aurem’s upper arm.

Aurem cried out, his nails digging into the man’s skin hard. He felt blood trickle down the man’s skin, seeing the gleam in the bastard’s eyes that he had long learned to avoid. He’d seen it on his mothers’ customers, when she was still living. That fighting earned him a solid punch to the face, and Aurem whimpered as pain exploded across his face, feeling hot blood gush down his face.

His head slammed into the concrete below, head swimming at the impact. Panic ensued, as he felt hands grabbing at his hips, another startled yelp-whimper leaving his lips. His heart raced, head ached, and instinct took over. His heart set to burst in his chest, fear flooding through him, deeper than anything he’d felt before. He felt an inhuman yell rip from his lips, and something surged through him that left him breathless.

A moment later, another animal screamed echoed in the alley, though after a moment Aurem realized it wasn’t him screaming. Pushing himself away as the weight lifted, Aurem’s eyes darted around wildly, tugging his pants back into place with a hiss as he saw the struggling figure, flames engulfing his body. Aurem’s eyes widened, watching Wiley scream, and thrash about the alley way.

A flicker caught Aurem’s eyes, and he let out a cry of alarm, realizing flames were licking up his arm. But as he let out a sound, the flames spiked, and grew larger. That surge in his chest continued, blood pulsing with a strange heat, and power. It took Aurem’s mind a moment to register that the flames didn’t burn him.

And a moment later to hear a voice yelling in the distance. Wiley’s body twitched, and jolted, the scent of burnt flesh assaulting his nostrils. Aurem’s stomach tightened, and he twisted over, chest heaving, as he upended nothing but bile. His head swam, and a yelling voice pierced his eyes, a ringing sound overtaking everything, as the flames devoured the rest of the man’s body. The flames refused to die out, even as someone dumped water over the man’s frame, burning as strongly as his hatred and fear. Shock roiled through him, and then understanding. He felt a strong hand jerk him up, and then-

Aurem gasped, as he woke, skin wet with sweat, chest heaving as he pushed himself up. Grimacing, Aurem swept a hand through his hair, grunting as reality set in. He hadn’t dreamt of the past in ages. It really wasn’t a good sign, if he was having such dreams again. Aurem only groaned, and spotted another jar of water nearby. He grabbed it quickly, and then sloppily drained about half. Some ran down his chin, into his shirt. He felt the trickle of water down his skin, and shivered in the cool night air. Even in the tent, the cold permeated through, especially here at night. The past few nights, he and Soren had slept close for heat. But somehow during this night, Soren had crept away and lay bundled under most of the blankets of fur.

Snorting softly, Soren, ran a hand down his chin, wiping the water away as best he could, using his shirt to get the rest. His clothes were soaked with sweat, and he felt disgusting. The day before last, Turuk had brought them wet cloths, and Aurem had been somewhat joyed to be able to clean himself at least a bit. Even under all the furs, and heavy clothing, Turuk didn’t seem to smell as bad as he or Soren. It was probably the stench that had driven Turuk to finally take pity, and bring them the cloths. Whatever it was, Aurem hadn’t complained. It was better than nothing. And he’d even been able to clean his hair a bit, too.

He wasn’t nearly at the level of cleanliness that he’d prefer, but after a handful of days being filthy, this was enough. For now. It wasn’t like he wanted to bathe in a freezing river, anyways. Distantly, he could hear the sound of running water, which made Aurem wonder how long they would stay in this location. Since he and Soren had been taken, they hadn’t moved from their spot. From how things were, Aurem could gather that this wasn’t where the Undari mainly lived. From speaking with Turuk, and listening to the others, he’d gathered snippets, and words of their language. But it wasn’t nearly enough to understand much of anything.

Aurem stretched slightly, and let out a faint sigh, laying back down on the furs beneath him. It was the middle of the night, and completely silent outside the tent. Most likely some guard was posted outside, as usual. He’d caught sight of the man or woman occasionally. It differed from day to night, but Turuk wasn’t lax enough to leave them unwatched. Unfortunately. Though as the bitter cold sometimes swept into the tent through an open flap, Aurem knew he and Soren would die without their magic if they tried to escape. They still had on clothing too thin for the winter mountains. Until they got the furs the Undari wore, or the collars were broken, Aurem doubted they would be in any condition to escape. And neither seemed likely at the moment.

Aurem rubbed his eyes lightly, trying to push away lingering tidbits of his dream. The past was the past, and there was no use thinking about it anymore. He had left it behind for a reason. He’d been forced at the time, of course. But looking back, becoming a mage was probably the only good thing that had happened to him. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was his own; for the most part.

His gaze shifted towards the sleeping form of Soren, barely able to make him out in the darkness of the tent. A bit of moonlight filtered in through the tent opening, as a breeze shifted the covering. But it only illuminated enough for Aurem to tell that the other was still sleeping soundly. Asleep, he looked much younger than before. On the cusp of adulthood, and here he was, spending it being an enemy captive. Aurem snorted softly, and then looked to the wall of the tent.

An odd sound caught his ears, though, pushing himself up from the bed of furs. He heard a shout from outside, and then a whimpered cry of a canine. One of the wolves? Aurem’s pulse quickened, wondering if there was an enemy attack. If Delfin were attacking the camp, then it might spell freedom for them.

But his faint hope fluttered, when he heard a few more voices join the first. They sounded alarmed, and worried, but he didn’t hear any sort of weapons being readied. Curious, Aurem pursed his lips, seeing the flicker of fire from outside the tent. The area outside of the supply tent lit up, and Aurem crawled towards the opening, more curious than cautious.

He reached a hand out, and shifted the leather of the tent slightly, taking a peek outside. He saw Turuk’s by now familiar form, hunched over a larger, silvery form. Her fur glistened in the firelight, looking reddish and orange in hue, as if bathing in blood. Furs were gathered around the wolf’s frame, and Aurem caught the gruff tone of Turuk’s voice, murmuring soothing words that Aurem couldn’t understand.

A small crowd had gathered, but they kept their distance; and Aurem sensed something tense, and sad in the air. Aurem pursed his lips slightly, trying to figure out what happened. No one had noticed him yet, though he doubted he was visible from the outside. As he watched the odd scene play, Aurem noticed, for the first time, the size of Siira’s stomach. His eyes widened, stifling a faint gasp. He hadn’t seen it before, nor expected it- but it seemed Siira was with pup. And from the whimpered sounds, Aurem realized she was giving birth. A snarl cut through the air, as her form writhed on the ground near the fire. Turuk was hunched over her, keeping her pinned, perhaps so she didn’t writhe and hurt herself or her pups in the process.

Aurem heard another whimper, and then caught the sound of pained, labored breathing from the giant wolf. His heart jolted in his chest, as he saw the flash of a dagger, clenched in Turuk’s hand. In the flickering light of the fire, it almost seemed as it Turuk’s hand was shaking as he held it. But no- was it truly a trick of the fire? Aurem saw a large amount of blood staining the ground, and swallowed hard. The birth wasn’t going well. If it persisted like this, then Siira and her pups would die. Aurem didn’t know why he cared, suddenly. But Siira was no long the demon she and the others wolves had always been to him. She was alive, nearly human in her existence- and Aurem had never been so cruel to watch something die like this. It was what had made him a skilled healer, despite everything.

And then the realization hit- Turuk was prepared to kill Siira to save the pups. If she died, then they died with her. But as it was now, Siira didn’t seem to stand much of a chance of survival. A sudden thought struck Aurem- though he couldn’t tell her it had sprung up from- his magic could heal her, and help the birthing process. He’d done it once before, for a human. And then as he was learning to heal, it had come up in his classes. He could help, but would the Undari accept it of him? To offer help to the enemy was foolish. And yet…The thought of Turuk killing what was family to the man- Aurem cursed softly, and then acted before he could stop himself. It was stupid. Foolish- and yet he couldn’t sit idly by, as another pained cry echoed out into the night.

“Stop!” He cried out, shoving the tent open, half falling out of the tent. He heard a curse from the man guarding them that night, and felt the tip of the spear against his neck. Growling, and still acting on instinct, Aurem knocked the spear aside, seemingly shocking the guard for the blade didn’t immediately cut his neck open. “I can save her,” he said quickly, feeling a piercing gaze settle on him.