Karolus stared up at the winter sky, his mouth was dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of it. Groaning, he rolled to his side. Grunting replaced the previous noises he was making with every shift of his body. A smiling face manifested in the snow, the sound trickling of water told him a water spirit was chuckling nearby.  

Getting to his feet was not as easy after a heavy night of mead. Every motion took more will than carrying the sand sacks the day before. 

Rubbing his eyes he tried to gather his bearings. The forest about him was likely one of the many that dotted the highlands and joined up in other parts of the land. But there was nothing about this one that seemed familiar. 

He couldn’t be far from the camp could he? Somebody must have carried him here. Another question arose. Why?

A blanket had been placed under him, and even in the cold the scent of honey hung on his breath. Muddled thoughts told him he had no memory of the end of the night or how he got here.  The fire and the Douén were his last memories, and Glencora’s loud laugh.

His need to sober hit him quickly as the sound of a wolves greeting the dawn with several close-by howls filled him with fear. High ground was the only plan he had available to him right now. 

Pulling himself up through the thicker branches as more howls echoed around the winter forest, sweat beaded across his upper back, adrenalin pumping. Confident the height he had taken would put him in a safer position he looked for the lupine eyes he felt upon him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. An eerie feeling floated into the area like a creeping mist.

Several feet away he saw a pair of folk, hoods up and wrapped against the winter. Their robes were not of the basic woollen design of the highlands, they were expensive. The grey of them blended with the wintery colours of the environment about them. Their faces were hidden beneath the hoods. One was far taller than the other. Maybe an adult and a youth.

Clearly unphased by the howling they strolled with casual intent.

Karolus remained in the tree, keeping tight to the trunk. There were almost no leaves on the branches and all he could do was hope they wouldn't look up and see him. But why was he hiding, what threat was there. Travellers passed through the Toan Highlands often and were mostly friendly. Merchants mostly. 

However there was something nagging at his soul to remain out of sight. Winter had taken most of the leaves from the forest and left the tree tops bare and revealing. He kept his frame close to the trunk, hid his hands in the thick sleeves and pulled the hood up and close. At first they were far away and he was high.

They didn’t look up but made their way towards him. Both walked with ease and were adorned in clothing fit for a journey through snow and mountains.

Now right under his tree they stopped. They spoke quietly, the smaller of the two had a youthful tone to their voice. The language was unknown to him. He shifted his position and the bark twisted and squeaked under his boot. The travellers stopped talking and stood stock still. 

His heart was beating rapidly, so loud he thought they might hear it below. He felt silly that he wasn’t just shouting hello to them but there was an aura about them that reached him even in the treetops. The moment moved on and so did they. At least until they stopped by the blanket on the forest floor. The alleged youth put their bare hands on it, the skin was tanned with a silver band on the middle finger. 

A whispered conversation passed between them again before they used a thin bit of charcoal to write on a scrap of parchment. They left it on the blanket weighted down by a nearby stone. Now the pair moved on, confidently and casually ignoring the further howling of wolves somewhere in the forest.

Once they were out of sight Karolus climbed down and gathered up the blanket. He was lucky enough that Glencora knew their letters and had taught him. The writing said ‘Hiding in trees with no leaves does not work’.

He couldn’t help but smile and the uneasy aura they had brought with them lessened. But he would still be on guard if he bumped into them again. If they were out to cause harm they would have surely taken advantage of the fact Karolus was alone. 

Now he needed to know where he was to make it back home. He can’t have walked too far in his drunken state, at least he hoped not. It was also surprising that Gelncora had let him wander, they were normally the one who made sure he made it back to his bed after the heavier drinking sessions.

The Wolves howling followed him, it didn't appear they were getting any closer or any further away but their presence was constant. Karolus had grabbed a thick branch he could use as a makeshift club just in case.

Mouth still dry, the scent of honey mead still flowing from the blanket he trudged what seemed a well trodden path. The plan was to just keep walking until he found folk, hopefully other highlanders. Even a known landmark at this point would be better than trying to work it out from staring at the bare forest about him. 

It was well after noon when he stopped. Having nothing to drink or eat he went about foraging. Winter wasn’t the best time to look for food in a forest but he hadn’t a better idea. It was becoming more rocky where he was which told him he was North of the settlement. At the moment of giving up on finding anything edible he heard the trickle of water. 

It was soft and musical. Following it led him to a tiny pond with a stream of water flowing from rocks leading up and away. The pond had many Blaeberries growing around the edge. The water was crystal clear and the bottom of the pond was nothing but stone. 

Karolus dipped his hand and scooped a taster of the water. It was cold and refreshing. So much so he got on his knees and scooped more and more until his thirst was quenched. The berries were plump and juicy looking. He took one and tasted it, it was far better than expected. Eating a few more he sat comfortable on an old thick trunk. 

“Shit.” he said out loud looking at the pond.

He started to hear soft giggles coming from within the rocks about the pond, the water began to swirl slowly. Then at its centre the water spun upwards slowly forming a shape on its surface. The shape slowly became that of a vision of beauty and enticement. Their eyes were bright and sultry. Lips full and pouting. The magic that flowed from them enveloped Karolus. His mind swam with thoughts of lust and carnal pleasure. The warm promise from the naked form in the pond was strong and he slowly nodded whilst removing his clothes. 

Naked he climbed into the pond, it was somehow wide and deep enough for the two of them. Karolus embraced the promise and the pair kissed. As euphoria built in him it came to an abrupt halt as his entire body became wracked with pain. He tried to push away but his mouth was stuck, open, as if he was constantly breathing out. But that wasn't it at all, the kiss was drawing life from him. Weakness took hold and something told him it was fine, to let it happen, it was better this way. Besides, they were so beautiful. Why were they shouting his name?

“Karolus! Karolus!” Glencora came sprinting across the forest floor towards the pond. Broadsword held in one hand aimed at the scene. 

The creatures' eyes threw a dark look their way and went to drag Karolus beneath the surface of the pond waters. Glencora leapt forwards scrabbling to take hold of Karolus' arm. The pair played tug-o-war with him. The water fey beneath had released their kiss of death and begun focusing on using their physical strength against that of Glencora.

Glencora’s immediate fear was that during this battle of strength that Karolus would drown. They planted their feet and with both hands on him pushed with all their might back pulling him from the grip of the creature and tumbled backwards. He was unconscious and blue around the lips.

The water fey leapt from the pond waters screeching, the high pitch noise split though Glencora’s mind, a psionic pain lanced through them. The creature reverted to its true form. Hideous, skin like sagging leather and bulbous eyes. Long thin claws stretched from bony fingers and hair that perpetually fell away in sodden clumps. 

Glencora stood to their feet and scrambled for the broadsword on the ground a few feet from them. Holding it in two hands. Feet apart and ready. 

The fey lunged forwards swinging wildly at their face. Glencora backed away swiftly using the sword to buff away the attack before returning one of their own.

Fey blood spilled on the frozen ground. In parallel the water of the pond started to redden. The creature attacked with frenzy and Glencora did what the Douén had taught them when fighting the fey folk of the Highlands. 

Keep them away from their home, it anchors their spirit and strengthens it. If they are of an elemental nature then take it from them and they will weaken.

Glencora could see the creature wouldn’t come too far from the pond, its eyes kept darting towards Karolus laying not far from the waters edge. Glencora charged shouldering into their enemy. They received a slash across the face for their trouble but returned with a wide swing of their broadsword, cutting a hand from its owner. 

Shrieking in pain and anger towards Glencora the fey threw itself backwards into the pond and beneath its bloodied waters. All glamour and shine of the pond dissipated leaving the sight of a boggy puddle.

Quickly Glencora grabbed the still Karolus and dragged him away from the pond. Satisfied they had dragged him far enough they went about checking his vitals. He was alive but his breathing was shallow. The blue on his lips was pale and not as potent as it was nearby the pond. Pulling from their pack winter blankets for use on the road they swaddled their naked friend.

“Come on you daft idiot, stay with me.” Glencora had their back against a tree and held Karolus as a newborn wrapped in their arms. One eye always on the pond.

The chopped off hand of the fey curled its fingers and rotted into nothingness on the ground. Glencora felt sick but held it at bay. Now sat with Karolus and the adrenalin of the fight fading they could feel the pain of the slash on their face, burning into their flesh. 

Glencora took the broadsword and whispered to it, the runes along its blade brightened with green light and the cut on their face healed. 

Reaching into their pocket they pull out a short piece of fine copper wire and begin to whisper into it before returning it to their person.

A fire was needed, Karolus now had colour in his lips but was still unconscious. All Glencora could do was hope the message had got through and keep him warm.

Keeping him near the fire and rotating him front and back to spread the heat, Glencora continued to rub his back and limbs keeping the blood flowing. Being unconscious and naked in a forest was not a great idea by any stretch. 

Making sure Karolus was propped sturdy against a tree with the fire safe enough away from him that if he did slip it wouldn’t be into the flames. Glencora went about collecting his clothes and laying them to warm by the fire. 

The feeling of being watched was close, close enough to tap them on the shoulder, It was unwelcome and kept them on their toes.  

Glencora did their bit of caring for Karolus as the sun set and the light of the moon took ownership of the forest. Chewing on dried meat and berries Glencora sat with their broadsword on their lap, eyes fixed on the pond. Fighting fey in the daylight hours was one thing they didn't want to test their mettle at night. 

Fey were creatures of night and day, imbued with magic from the elements and seasons. Creatures manifested from dreams and nightmares, filled with the powers of emotion and urges of the spirit. 

It took a life of dedication to be able to dance with them in their own gardens. But a lifetime was the price Glencora had sworn to give. The Douén existed for this purpose. It was they that were to make sure the balance of the realms remained and the spill into one another's world was nothing more than trade. 

Their grip tightened on the handle of the sword, the runes flared then faded. As the stars dominated the night sky the thick muddied waters of the fey pond bubbled and belched. The smell of rotting dead animals was pontent. 

They continued to be vigilant. 

“Glen!” the deep growling voice of Galwyn called out.

“Over Here!” Glencora called back, getting to their feet looking out for the wolf.

Galwyn approached the fire, its light making him look twice the size. 

“I brought Tarl with me.” the wolf gestured at the Douén mastiff coming into the firelight.

“Your message said it was a nymph?” Tarl asked, taking a swig from whatever was in their waterskin, all knew it wasn’t water though.

“Aye, over there. I think the pond is theirs.” Glencora pointed and took the skin from Tarl and took a swig themselves. As suspected it was strong alcohol.

“Did they kiss?” Galwyn asked and got the answer from Glencora’s look alone.

“I was too slow.” Glencora said, looking at the ground.

Tarl took a knee beside Karolus and began to check him out. Pulling a vial from a belt pouch he trickled the pale green liquid into his mouth. A moment later Karolus made a groaning noise and Glencora looked at Tarl who nodded with a grin.

“He’ll be right shortly, just exhausted.”

Glencora leapt into Tarl’s torso giving him a huge hug. The Douén patted their back and returned the squeeze. 

“He’s a tough lad. You done right by him.”

Galwyn stalked over to the pond edge. His staff thudded gently into the ground with each step. Standing for a moment the wolf let the scent of the fey glamour fill his senses. 

“Out you come, you know I can’t hurt you.” Galwyn growled at the water's surface.

There was a short silence and then soft giggling as the water began to take shape. The vision of the crystal clear water and blooming flowers took hold again.

Before Galwyn was another Douén, like him but the wet fur was jet black, bright yellow eyes and a smile of love, his eyes widened then narrowed darkly.

“You will shift that form right now or I will break our laws.” Galwyn gripped his staff so tightly it threatened to break.

Immediately the form shifted and changed to that of a young human similar looking to Karolus except with a hand missing, the stump bloody and congealed.

“There is no need to be like that dear Bloodwolf.” The smile across the nymph face was thin and vile.

Galwyn growled through gritted teeth. HIstorically the Douén and Fey did not see eye to eye.

“The boy.” Galwyn started.

“Already bound. Your little thief was too late” the nymph spat the last words, showing their wrist stump.

Galwyn looked back to the campfire to see Karolus being helped to sit up by Glencora and Tarl. They cared for the lad. He took a deep breath and looked back at them.

“He belongs to me.” He knew that would only encourage the nymph to look for a way to make the situation worse for the wolf.

“Oh dear, well that leaves us in a pickle oh great Bloodwolf, for we had already shared a kiss.” The fey stepped up close to Galwyn breathing the last words into his ear.

“And such a kiss it was, his spirit is strong, delicious and sweet. I am very excited for our next one.” The nymph was brimming with dark thoughts enjoying the torment.  

“I will take the debt.” The wolf pushed the fey back from him with a strong clawed hand.

Clear delight spread across the face of the nymph as they leapt into their pond and swam in circles laughing gleefully shifting through many forms. 

“He will live through the night.” they whispered.

“Good.” Galwyn turned to head back to them but the soft fey voice swam in his mind.

“I must know, how long has the child walked with you for such a trade?” the words hung sickly in the air.

“A day.” he walked away. The wolf didn’t bother waiting for a reaction.

***

Karolus drank deeply from Glencora’s water skin and ate the dried meat hungrily. He felt like he had not eaten for days. Glencora and Tarl explained it had only been last night he was sitting around the fire with them.

He had run off into the woods whilst they were all sleeping. Glencora had come looking for him in the morning but turns out Karolus was a dab hand at covering his drunken tracks. 

He laughed tiredly and told them about the duo he had seen in the forest earlier that day and how they had known he was hiding but did nothing to interact with him. Tarl thought nothing of it as he continued to drink. However Glencora wanted to find them as they hadn’t passed them on the way through.

Karolus lent against the tree trying to motivate himself to get dressed when Galwyn dropped to sit by the fire. The massive grey wolf was such a presence that he almost waited for permission from the before he continued.

“Get dressed.” the wolf ordered.

“I was just thinking that.” Karolus tried a bit of humour but could see it fell on deaf ears.

Glencora looked at Galwyn, the wolf didn't return the look and instead focused on the fire. Glencora now looked worried as they smiled at Karolus who had noticed the exchange or lack thereof.

Karolus pulled himself to his feet and dressed, his clothes and boots had been near the fire for a considerable time and were super warm and cosy. He had to stop himself from cuddling into them like a small child in winter would a parent.

“How’d you feel?” Glencora asked passing him more to drink.

“Until a moment ago I was tired, dog tired. But I can feel, well something, returning to my fingertips and toes. For a moment it was as if everything was grey and I couldn’t get warm.” Karolus wore a confused look.

They ate and drank, but held back from getting drunk. Galwyn was silent and sat staring at the flames for the duration. The only thing he had said is they would stay the night in the spot they sat. Despite concerns of the nymph several feet away the wolf guaranteed them they were safe.

During the conversation Karolus noticed a concerned look upon the face of Tarl. The mastiff Douén had even slowed their drinking for the conversation. Glencora didn't argue as it was obvious they trusted the wolf with iron clad conviction.

Karolus at one point had felt like he was saying goodbye to the world, never to see his mother and little brother again. During those moments he saw the highlands of Toa spreading far and wide, as far as his eyes could see. 

There was a beauty to the scene, it was not brightly coloured but still had many. The greens and browns of the hills and forests, lilac heather fields, the rusty cliffs to the north east. Beyond this scene it was empty, unknown to him, no knowledge did he have of a world outside the Highlands. He swore to himself that if he survived the Douén he would see the world.

“Galwyn.” Karolus saw that Tarl and Glencora were asleep and moved to sit by the grey wolf.

Galwyn simply turned to look at him as a response. 

He shifted uncomfortably.

“Are you now my mentor?” The question felt stupid, he had only met the wolf the day before and done nothing but move sacks silently alongside of him.

Galwyn growled softly to himself.

“Why didn’t you quit yesterday?” bright blue lupine eyes stared deep into the flames.

Karolus thought about it, why didn't he quit? It would have been far easier on his body, the muscle pains in his shoulders and back were a reminder. Was it just to prove a point, pride is a powerful driver. He thought a little while longer.

“It’s not in me to quit, my mother made sure of it. I am far more scared of her than I am of you.” He was happy with his answer because it was true. 

“I’ll give you that boy, always fear a mothers wrath.” Galwyn grabbed a battle axe from the side strapping of his pack and passed it to Karolus.

He took it gingerly. The craftship was excellent. The long handle had a curve to it and the wrapping for the handle made it stick to his palm as he did a few practice swings in the air. A silver axe head, single bladed, glittered in the firelight. Patterns of the fey were engraved on the blade of it.

“Sleep now. Tomorrow  we will start breaking you.” Galwyn turned to show his back to Karolus and continued to stare into the fire.

Karolus thought about pushing further conversation, he also wanted an answer to his mentor question. He then stared at the axe in his hand, I suppose this was all the answer he needed. 

Arranging a sleeping space he laid down and turned to look across at the pond. The fey creature had been so beautiful, but he knew as soon as he ate the berries he had walked into their trap.

All had fear of the Fey hammered into them as children. Stories of staying away, keep to the fires of the villages, never wander the forests alone. There were many more standard stories themed around being scared of the unknown. 

This was the first time though that, now sat alone, the fear of what might have happened clung to his mind. He shed a few tears before wiping them away and laying down properly.

How he was still alive was a miracle of dragons. He owed his life to Glencora and would make sure the debt was repaid. 

It was taking longer than he wanted to fall asleep, his body was tired, his mind was fuzzy. But the anticipation of what tomorrow would bring was clinging to his thoughts.

As he was finally ready to sleep, the soft crunching of footsteps made him look about the low flames. He saw the wolf walking towards the Fey pond.

Standing before it, Galwyn took a hunting knife from his hip and cut one of his braids free. 

Whispering words of power to it, a speckle of blue light coated the braid before the Douén dropped it into the pond. 

A pale wrinkled hand reached up from below the surface and took it.