Stepping inside, Trafka quickly barked orders demanding that not only the commander meet them at the great hall but that he also bring a map, something this outpost guard commander quickly ordered someone else to do.

  Walking the streets of the outpost, Kenneth couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of familiarity.

  Streets littered with vibrant fur coats, stares turned toward his direction, and buildings that looked almost identical in both placement and structure.

  However, the only things that seemed to differ in any regard were the people, or more specifically, the women who wore messily stitched-together dresses, most of which were so long you could barely see their toes.

  Strangely enough, none of them, as far as Kenneth could see, had any weapons on them, unlike back at Laoli. Instead, they seemed occupied with tasks, only stopping and looking when they noticed the small group led by the hunter commander, their gazes mostly affixed on Trafka or, more accurately, the crest on his shield.

  Arriving at the great hall, the inside was almost completely the same. The only difference that could be immediately spotted was right by the wall, where opposite of it lay the kitchen.

  At Laoli, there had been a simple table where Hali had placed the pot of food for everyone to dig in, but here, right up against it, was a large dining table of clearly higher quality, along with a chair equal quality with a long backrest and armrests.

  Over by the table stood a woman with red and pink vertically stripped fur scrubbing it with a wet cloth, muttering something or other.

  She was leaning forward just enough to where the white tip of her tail was showing.

  Both of the younger hunters immediately seemed to notice, staring rather intently at her. Drogsa just turned his gaze, his tail twitching upward slightly, as he loudly “coughed!”

  The woman immediately reacted to the sound, her ears snapping back. Glancing behind her toward the group, both of the younger hunters remained oblivious to her having noticed them even as her tail twitched.

  Rolling her eyes, she suddenly threw her arm back while flicking her wrist, hurling the wet cloth in her hand toward the youngest hunter and hitting him in the head.

  Staggering back, the youngest hunter dropped the dead Drofgnot he was holding.

  Kenneth had expected the woman to be angry at the two younger hunters; however, her ire was instead turned toward the oldest, “It’s a tail, Drogsa!”

  Turning his head to look at her, Drogsa only let out a sigh, “Nevertheless, an apology is owed.”

  “…”

  Drogsa looked at both of the younger hunters and, with his free hand, slapped the youngest one in the back of the head.

  Looking to his commander with slight confusion before realizing what he wanted him to do, the younger hunter met the woman’s gaze with a smirk, “Sorry, cook.”

  Her eyes suddenly narrowed further as she walked right up to him and glared down.

  His smirk quickly vanished as his ears and tail slightly lowered, “Sorry… Moliki.”

  “Sorry, Moliki,” the other hunter echoed.

  “I’ll have them both skin the Drofgnot for you as an apology for that, Drogsa said, eyeing the youngest hunter. “They could use the practice.”

  Moving her gaze back to Drogsa, her ire followed suit as she suddenly lunged forward with her claws, burrowing them into the Drofgnot he and the other hunter were carrying and throwing them up on her shoulder, whereafter she kneeled down and grabbed the last one on the floor.

  She certainly had the determination, but even so, as she walked toward the kitchen, her steps were a bit slow, encumbered not only by the weight but by the uneven distribution of the three carcasses.

  More than once, it looked like she would lose her footing and fall, but it seemed hatred and anger made her strong enough to carry everything to its destination.

  “…Fiery…” Jago said once she was out of sight.

  “Yes. Outpost women are something else,” Rafk weakly chuckled.

  “When is the commander going to be here,” Trafka demanded to know.

  Drogsa turned to him and kept his gaze low, “Soon; I doubt he’ll be long once he knows you are here; until then, our healer can take care of your wounds.”

  He gestured toward the back room at the opposite end of the great hall.

  Without uttering a word, Trafka walked over to the back room and shut the door behind him.

  Letting out a small sigh, Drogsa turned to the rest, “Take a seat. You all look tired.”

  After the day they’d all had, he didn’t need to tell them twice.

  Sitting down at a table, everyone let out exhausted sighs, yet Kenenth didn’t afford himself such a luxury as his attention instantly turned to Kolu and Nokstella.

  He was still motionless, practically curled up into a ball and clinging to him, his eyes red and puffed from all his crying. Nokstella had barely taken her eyes off him, her scales lighter than her normal colouring.

  ‘Did I make the right choice by taking her along with me? He wondered. “Despite everything, the Nok are her people, and where we are heading won’t be as kind as the Towe--Urg!’

  Jolting slightly from the thought, Kenneth took a few deep breaths and calmed his nerves.

  “How’s he doing?” Rafk suddenly asked.

  “As can be expected…” Kenneth sighed.

  “A shame healers can’t heal those wounds,” Rafk added as a silence fell over them all.

  “…Talk…” Jago suddenly said, his croaking voice lowered as he glanced at Rafk.

  “Listen, I’m not against talking, but I think I just prefer a bit of quiet right now,” Kenneth said calmly, standing.

  “…Wait…” Jago said.

  Sighing heavily, Kenenth asked, “Why do you only say one word? We know you can say more.”

  Jago narrowed his eyes slightly while his tail remained motionless, “…Why did… you choose… Rafk…?”

  Kenneth froze as he felt the weight of his choice riddling him with a sense of guilt, making him wonder if things might have turned out differently if he’d simply chosen some other names.

  However, Jago’s gaze wasn’t the only one on him as the rest at the table also glared in his direction with a modicum of contempt.

  “Enough… Let’s stop before we are at each other’s throats, Rafk tiredly sighed. “Listen, all of us haven’t discussed it, but as far as the plan going forward… it is to get some sleep and food and then head out once the light is with us.

  “Tragna and the other are still out there, and if they were only being herded as you said, then we might be able to guess where they are from the nearest outpost.”

  “…Good…” Jago added, along with some quiet and determined nods from everyone else at the table.

  “Sound’s like a plan, Kenneth added. “Guess you want the medicine.”

  “Yes,” Rafk calmly responded.

  Kenneth placed Nokstella down on the chair beside him, whereupon he reached into his bag and pulled out a long mug overflowing with antibiotic pills.

  “I doubt you’ll be needing this many, but it’s better to be prepared, especially since I’m not sure if one pill, even at this stage if everyone was infected, will be enough, Kenneth said. “However, don’t be chucking them down. They can be dangerous if you take to many at once.

  “And they take time to work, so if you find anyone out there, give them only one, to begin with, and then wait… roughly… the time between eating breakfast and lunch, maybe a bit longer to be on the safe side.”

  Jago calmly took the mug of pills from Kenneth, “…thanks…”

  “I doubt I got all that; what about you?” Rafk asked Jago.

  With an assured nod, he replied, “…Yes…”

  “Welcome to the outpost, Lord Krosk!”

  Everyone turned their heads to see a tall orange and yellow furred man standing in the doorway, dressed in fine, seemingly higher quality leather attire with longer sleeves than opposed to the normal ones most others wore.

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  “It is my honour to introduce the commander, Lord Akoz Batugta Hyrog.”

  The Lord and commander of the outpost walked past the orange and yellow-furred man carrying himself with prestige, his black featherily cloak gently swaying intact with his steps as he slowly made his way inside the dimmed light, making his maroon fur almost appear black.

  Coming to a halt, the Lord threw his hand to the side, opening up his cloak, revealing white and black silk-like attire underneath, as well as a scroll in his hand and a sword by his waist.

  With a gaze that looked dominant yet somehow less so than Trafka’s and even the golden douche, the Lord scanned the room. His stoic expression grew ever so slightly annoyed as his other hand slid along his sword handle near the pommel, which was shaped like an animal with multiple eyes and two mouths, “Ijubee, Where is Lord Krakni?”

  Ijubee looked somewhat distressed, his tail quickly shooting between his legs as his ears flattened, and he quickly looked around, his gaze lingering on Jago, “You there! Where is the lord?!”

  “…Back…” Jago replied.

  “What? He’s behind me,” Ijubee said in confusion, spinning around.

  Rolling his eyes, Jago lazily pointed toward the back room.

  Noticing, Ijubee slightly flared with anger as he said, “Why didn’t you simply say-!”

  “Quiet fool!” The Lord snarled the words enough to render Ijubee’s anger muut and his posture submissive.

  Just as silence once again fell, the door to the back room opened, and Trafka walked out, the arrow in his shoulder gone along with a couple of nicks and scratches.

  The Lord was quick to walk over to him with the gesture of greeting, “Greeting Lord Krakni, I’m-“

  “I heard through the door… Lord Batugta, Trafka rudely interrupted. “Now that you are here, I have matters to discuss with fewer prying ears.”

  He gestured toward the back room and kitchen.

  Lord Batugta was quick to catch on as he ordered Ijubee to get everyone outside, which he was quick to do, taking the healer, who looked tired and was dressed in a completely white rope. However, the cook, Moliki, was a bit of a challenge, especially with her colourful growling, yet she also left the building.

  “Shall Ijubee show your servants to their accommodations?” Lord Batugta questioned, gesturing toward Kenneth and the others.

  “Close the door,” Trafka ordered.

  Needing no instructions from his commander, Ijubee quickly closed the double doors, leaving the torch fire the only source of light.

  With a charismatic smile, The Lord asked, “So for what reason am I honoured by--“

  “Mercenaries! Trafka loudly said, cutting off Batugta, which did seem to leave him stumped as his expression flared with annoyance for a split second. “One of you make certain someone with good ears isn’t listening.”

  Kenneth knew what he meant when he had to deal with Wilf; however, all the others just looked at one another in confusion, Rafk eventually being the first to ask, “How?”

  “I can assure you, Lord Krakni, There is no one in this outpost with such control over that ability, Lord Batugta assured him. “Now, as requested, I’ve brought the map with me.”

  Undoing the knot on the scroll, Lord Batugta rolled it out onto the table in front of everyone.

  The map was the same as the one Ulric had in his possession, with the exact same markings and layout of the outpost’s villages and the capital.

  Tapping his claw on a particular outpost, laying about three other outposts down from Nya’s and a ways off from the nearest village, The Lord stated, “This is Hijoli.”

  Trafka glanced at the layout of the map for a moment, perhaps pondering which village would be best to reach next. Heading to the one closest to them would mean that they had to double back, taking a slight detour further away from the capital, while the one closer to their destination was a longer track on foot.

  With a charming smile, Lord Batugta walked over to Trafka, “There’s plenty of time to look at some old map, Lord Krakni, but now, why not tell me the reason for your honoured visit.”

  Meeting the Lord’s gaze, Trafka took a step away from the table, leaving everyone else to studiously study the map in the meantime.

  “It wasn’t my intent to be here; the merchant Lord Jukibi and his caravan were set upon by an outpost’s worth of heretics, killing most of his accompanying men and himself while we were in the midst of escorting the Black healer to the capital, as per his majesty’s command,” Trafka explained.

  For the first time, Batugta’s gaze wandered slightly from Trafka, lingering on Kenneth. It was clear from the onset that he noticed the differences between himself and Kenneth, though his reaction was mild, to say the most, a stark contrast to every one of the hunters.

  “If it is the king's command, it must be done,” Lord Batugta agreed.

  “Good. Our destination was the nearest village. Have a guide and provisions made ready,” Trafka commanded.

  Lord Batugta somewhat glanced toward Kenneth, “If I may Lord Krakni, of what importance have the king placed on this… Black healer, if you have been tasked with their escort?”

  “You are to know soon, so might as well, Trafka said as he turned to Kenneth. “The Black healer is capable of healing the burning death.”

  Lord Batugta suddenly became visibly shocked and at a loss for words as his gaze snapped to Kenneth, “I…I this is… that’s remarkable.”

  “Yes, it is, Trafka agreed. “It is even more so that The Black healer is capable of such a thing without the use of magic. A rather handy thing, considering we’ll have something to leave behind for you to heal the burning death once we leave.”

  Lord Batugta's expression changed from one of astonishment to shock as he, without thinking, stepped away from Trafka, “You mean not to tell me, Lord Krakni…!”

  “The heretics that attacked the caravan were all inflicted with the burning death and aimed to spread it further using us, Trafka elaborated. “Rest assured, we have all already begun to heal.”

  Lord Batugta looked uneasy; his eyes aligned with Trafka’s as if to gauge whether or not what he was telling was the truth or lies. Slowly, seemingly by reflex, his hand graced his sword handle.

  “I do not blame you for being cautious about this information but draw that sword, and this outpost will need a new commander, Trafka threatened as he calmly placed his shield in front of his body. “I swear on the name of house Krosk and the blood of Heka, what I have told you now is true.”

  Lord Batugta didn’t seem anywhere near calm; however, he accepted Trafka’s words.

  “Very well, Lord Krakni. My second in command will show you to your accommodations, Lord Batugta said. “How long will you be my guest?”

  “As soon as the preparations are made, we will be leaving,” Trafka answered him.

  “We will be staying longer than that, Trafka, Kenneth piped up. “We talked about this before we arrived.”

  Trafka rolled his eyes, “You talked, I heard, but I never said I listened to you. Lying seemed the easiest way to make you stop worrying.

  “Regardless, you can simply leave that healing stuff for the burning death here while we are off to the village. There’s no need to stay.”

  Kenneth let out a frustrated sigh as his annoyance grew, “Yes, there is! If we are sick with the burning death, which YOU most likely are after chomping down on Nokqotir.

  “True, it mostly likely won’t kill if I continue to provide treatment, but continuing to march ahead without resting is only going to weaken your immune system, and there’s only so much penicillin is capable of doing. In all likelihood, you will grow weary and fatigued, which will only make the journey longer and more dangerous. And I don’t need to tell you what we have to worry about out there.”

  “Silence! Lord Batugta yelled. “How dare you speak to one above your station in such a manner. Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness before I make you.”

  “You will do no such thing; the Black healer is under my protection… and don’t forget that,” Trafka warned, staring down the commander with his icy gaze.

  “So then, what’s it going to be, Trafka? Do you want to stumble forward and struggle even more, or will you actually use that thing encased in your skull?” Kenneth asked.

  Trafka’s tail flicked slightly, yet his gaze remained unwavering, “Do what you want; it's only the king's wrath you’ll incur. Lord Batugta, have your second in command show me the accommodations.”

  “Do stay out of ours until when we return; Jago doesn’t like anyone messing with his bed,” Rafk said.

  “Return? What do you mean?” Lord Batugta inquired.

  The muscles in his face contracted in annoyance for a split second before Trafka looked the mercenary’s way, “You intend to search for those men. Looking a map over won’t make you a cartographer, and you can forget to take it with you.”

  “Jago is good with maps, Lord Krosk, Rafk replied. “He used to help Lord Jubiki when he needed fresh eyes. He will be able to guide us to where most would have wound up.”

  Trafka's posture remained firm, yet his facial features relaxed slightly as he let out a small chuckle, “Your delusional optimism is amusing, but I think it has over-extended its welcome.

  “Take one step out of this outpost, and you can all forget about the coins I promised you.”

  Without hesitation, each and every one of the mercenaries walked right past Trafka and exited the great hall, whereupon they had Ijubee guide them to their accommodations.

  Looking flabbergastered, Trafka growled, “You deserters.”

  “Lord Krakni, nothing more would please me than to throw these low-born out, but unfortunately, none of them has done anything that would entitle me to revoke the law of hospitality for them, Lord Batugta chimed. “But I will assure they will only receive the barest of food for such insolence toward--”

  Trafka snapped his head around to face Lord Batugta, his expression a silent growl as he reached a boiling point, and he shouted, “Don’t you realise you are abandoning a command given by the king!”

  As his words rang out, the outpost residents all looked on with expressions of shock, intrigue, and indifference.

  “His majesty gave us no command, and I’d rather be a deserter than leave a friend behind,” Rafk yelled back.

  Grinding his fangs, Trafkas fur began to rise, “those lowborn… why?!”

  “You don’t have many friends, do you?” Kenneth asked while wiping down the table and chairs with rubbing alcohol.

  Trafka seemed completely taken aback by the sudden question as he stood silent.

  “No amount of money, threats, or rationale will stop them. I suppose, simply put, they are brothers, Kenneth continued. “Friendships like that are truly rare and are something you can only hope for.”

  “Show me my accommodations!” Trafka growled at Lord Batugta.

  Slightly caught off guard by the sudden order, the Lord was quick to lead the way, with Kenneth following behind once he had finished.

  They were led down streets and alleys until arriving at a house no different from any other, with the same structure, same wood, and same interior.

  “I hope it is to your liking, Lord Krakni,” Lord Batugta said.

  Trafka took a glance, “I wasn’t expecting much.”

  “It looks great. Thank you for finding something so quick,” Kenneth interjected as he walked inside.

  Lord Batugta looked annoyedly at him for a moment but uttered no words. Trafka had that front more than sufficiently covered.

  “What do you think you are doing?!”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Kenneth replied. “We are going to be staying together.”

  “Who do you think you are?! Out of the question!” Trafka yelled.

  With a slight sarcastic chuckle, Kenneth replied, “Trust me, this is the furthest thing from what I want, but all four of us are at risk of spreading, you know what, so it’s imperative we isolate ourselves.

  “Otherwise, with the heightened risk of it spreading, we are going to be spending a lot longer time here than just a couple of days.”

  “I don’t care; get out!” Trafka furiously yelled.

  Kenneth simply walked over to the bedroom, “Kick my ass and throw me out then because I ain’t leaving your side even if you find another house.”

  Taking deep, heavy breaths, Trafka’s body shook with fury.

  “I believe the cook will be done with the food soon. I’ll have her deliver it to you promptly the moment it’s done,” Lord Batugta said as he excused himself.

  “Oh, tell her to leave it outside and then knock on the door! We’ll get it!” Kenneth yelled as the door closed.

  As everything grew silent, Kenneth, Nokstella, and Kolu settled in, sitting down on the bed. Trafka was a bit slower when walking into the bedroom, mumbling something under his breath as he took a seat in the other bed.

  Letting out a tired sigh, Kenneth turned his gaze downward.

  Kolu was still clinging to him, staring blankly, and Nokstella just looked at him, trying to play that game again, but it still wasn’t working. Instead, she decided to leave his grasp and walk around Kenneth.

  Spreading her arms wide, she went in for a hug in an attempt to comfort him as he had once done for her, but cruelly, it was not to be.

  The moment she touched him, he suddenly went wild, swiping his claws at her, drawing blood as he leapt from Kenneth’s grasp onto the floor, growling, “Don’t touch me, heretic!”

  “KOLU!” Kenneth gasped as he quickly took Nokstella, who’d begun to cry.

  Standing on all fours with his tail easily twice its size, he only continued to growl quickly, scurrying under Trafka's bed.

  Letting out a couple of amused chuckles while lying down, Trafka said, “Good on you, kid.”

  Comforting Nokstella and taking care of her flesh wound with a bandaid, she asked, “Am I bad heretic?”

  Kenneth froze for a moment, “No! No, you are not bad! You are the goodest little girl! Kolu… he’s… he’s just hurting right now… please just give him time.”