Year 23-4

A mage of few words, a satyr of few garments, and an abused elf with her modesty stolen. The company I kept was far from what I once knew. After rescuing countless fae from the jail tower of Nestle, we returned to the Cottage, all of us together for the first time. Though, we were well away from the family of friends we might become.

“Why did you kill them,” Tucker complained with every step we took from the threshold forward.

Penn started a fire and continued to keep a distance from me. Tucker, on the other hand, followed me as I found a room to rest the most wounded of us that night. I allowed the elf to take a bed that had once belonged to Farrah, my late sister. Tucker muted himself until I stepped away and shut the door to give the poor girl privacy. But once we were alone in the hallway, his silence spoke volumes.

“You wanted me to do it; we all did,” I said with an annoyed sigh.

“I would never,” he argued as his eyes filled the space with dark thunderous clouds.

It was helpful to know he couldn’t kill me, but there were fates worse than death I might have feared had I not been swimming in dangerous waters already.

“They didn’t deserve another day,” I protested with air in my chest.

“It wasn’t our decision to make,” he said, following me into the main room.

I tried to ignore him long enough to relax. Penn was warming himself by the fire when I stepped behind his back.

“So, you’re the reason we risked our necks? Do you speak, or are you worse than your friend?” I joked.

The satyr, still nude as always, turned to glance up at me behind his shoulder and Tucker behind mine.

“Thank you for saving me,” Penn began to speak.

“Drake, my name is Drake,” I finally introduced myself without a last name or title. “Thank you, Drake,” he said.

I could feel his unease. Tucker and I might have saved him together, but I was no less of a stranger.

“How do you feel about the soldiers, the ones I put to rest,” I questioned.

I saw his eyes weren’t on mine. Penn was focused on the mage behind me.

“It’s not a trick question,” I added, only to gain his attention.

“They deserved it,” he muttered with a shrug of his shoulders.

“See, even your friend agrees,” I boasted while turning around to see the look on Tucker’s face.

As a hunter, death was expected, but as a citizen under our King’s reign, it was all too familiar. I was accustomed to making light of it. What else could a person do when faced with an unchangeable reality? But my reality wasn’t the only. I was still very much an outsider at the time. I knew it; they knew it, and yet they felt comfortable enough to return to my home. Had there been genuine disgust or anger toward the decisions I made, I’m sure they would have abandoned me long before then.

“I’m not a Murderer; we are not murderers,” Tucker argued while I stepped around him.

“Their blood isn’t on your hands,” I said while stripping myself of bloody armor and clothes.

“Then why do I feel responsible,” he asked in a somber tone that brought pause.

Rare was it to find a person so opposed to conflict, so opposed to bloodshed? But I was aware of my views, having been gifted by the life I lived. Sitting in my seat at the fire, I tried to level with Tucker.

“You wanted it, and that’s alright,” I said.

He sat opposite me, leaving Penn between us on the floor.

“Is this what you do? I thought,” Tucker started.

“I’ve wanted to leave this place forever. What I did, what we did, was good. It was right.”

“It was sinful,” Tucker shamed me.

“Have you never been wounded by the crown? Knights and soldiers do things in the King’s name beyond sin, regardless of what God you worship.”

He looked away from me.

“You said I was the strongest hunter you’ve ever known,” I continued.

“Strength says nothing of a person’s heart,” he remarked.

“You’re a seer. What do you see when you look at me? Am I now a monster in your eyes?” I questioned.

His gaze returned but only for a moment.

“I can’t read your soul. I don’t have that gift yet,” he said.

“You don’t need a gift, honestly. What do you think of me now that we’ve rescued your brother, freed the beaten, and saved a girl?”

Neither he nor I spoke. Could he see the outcome as I did, or was it me who should have rethought my breath?

“Is there anything to eat here,” Penn asked and abruptly ended our moment of tension.

We both ignored the satyr but let go of our heat.

“Why do you care how I see you,” Tucker asked plainly.

“Because I want to do it again,” I said.

“Kill people?”

“I want to rebel against the crown.”

“With my help?”

“If I can’t escape the King, then I will have his head as I should have long ago,” I stated.

“I don’t want war. We don’t want war, we’ve known you for two days, and you include us in treason,” Tucker said.

“There would be peace after fires,” I added.

“Is there anything to eat? Berries, wine, bread, cheese?” Penn interrupted again.

His voice allowed me to see I had gone from sitting far away to leaning in.

“You owe me for this job, unless you have the 50 gold pieces you promised,” I said while returning my back to the wood of my rocking seat.

“I don’t want blood,” said Tucker with doubt before he walked away.

“I saw your face at the tower; it brought you joy to free those who couldn’t free themselves. We could do it again,” I said.

Under his grief, there was a relief. I could smell it had I been blind.