Phillipe's Story

Any hesitance on his part was merely from watching her too long. The touch on his arm brought a tingling sensation with it and all at once, Phillipe preemptively mentally chided himself for reading too much into it. She didn't want anything from him but his friendship and even as his heart fluttered with an ache to reach for her when contact fell away, he swore he was able to give that and only that to her.

Considering her proposition for a moment, he smirked with a thoughtful expression and said, "Come with you to pursue the Hund until you can stick your machete in them like you did that door? AND I get sandwiches? Well, bloody hell, not even sure there's a 'no' for that." His expression sobered when he saw she wasn't in a jokey mood. "Yeah, yes. I'm comin'. Right behind you."

In the cottage, Phillipe helped Ada grab some things but stopped when Bill came to the door. Standing in the doorway and looking at the bag in Ada's hand, he asked her in his usual monotone, "You're leaving?" It was hard to read how he felt about that, the only sign of any expression on his face, a slight crease in his brow, like he was confused or mildly concerned.

Cam, on the other hand, pushed through the door behind him and when he saw the bag Ada held, instantly his face registered rage. With a grimace and a growl, he charged her and pushed her hard, shouting, "Where are you going?! You're leaving us?!"

"Cam, stop!" Bill shouted dispassionately.

"Oi! Hands off!" Phillipe warned, although what exactly he'd do to stop the young man, he didn't know.

Huffing in aggravation, Cam stepped back, pacing slightly as he glared at his sister. "Oh, of course! You wait until father isn't around to make your break for it, yeah? Good riddance! Not like we needed you here moping about how much you hate it here anyway!" Even Phillipe could see that the stress of the day was taking it's toll on the young man, who was only a year or two older than Ada. Of course he didn't mean it but then again, the Blanches' weren't known for their emotional honesty.

There were a lot of things Ada needed to bring in order for this hunt to be successful. She some simple food - bread, cheese, and a bottle of wine Bill had given her for her birthday - and a few smaller instruments that would make outdoor cooking easier, like a small pot and a waterskin. She tossed the lot into two blankets and wrapped it all up using the soft material; a rope tied around the top would make the bag a little easier to carry. From the loft, where the bedding and storage was, she grabbed a change of clothes for Phillipe (she'd made them for her brothers long ago, but they'd never seemed to appreciate them anyway).

While out of sight in the loft, Ada quickly changed out of the dirt and feces covered clothing into something fresher. After grabbing herself a set of extra clothes as well, she returned to the kitchen and pushed them into an empty rucksack. She made sure to grab two daggers, one hers and the other having belonged to her mother, and slipped them into the sack as well. It was at this point that she also grabbed the sheath for the machete, which had a strap for the wielder to throw over one shoulder. Instead of bagging it, she slipped it on and tightened it accordingly. What all did they really need? They wouldn't be gone for long, of course, but she did feel someone underprepared for the journey ahead of them.

As she ran a mental check list in her head, Bill appeared in the doorway, Cam following right after. The two, as usual, expressed their thoughts in two different ways. Cam's shove caused Ada to stumble a few steps backwards, but the assault didn't surprise her. Always quick to anger, just like their father, Cam had been a terror upon her since the death of her mother. She'd always thought his treatment of her was because she resembled her mother quite well, but she'd never broached the subject with him. Bill, on the other hand, had never truly antagonized her, though his uncharismatic behavior and cold expressions had always made her wary of him.

"I don't expect you to understand," Ada said, her tawny eyes narrowing, her voice charged, "because you've never understood me. You two have never showed an ounce of care for me - not even once since Mother died. You didn't care when Father got drunk and beat me, you didn't care when the other kids teased me for the way I look, and you sure as hell didn't care when Father tried to marry me off to a man who viewed me as a pair of hips needing to be filled."

The more she spoke, the angrier she became, and that overwhelming emotion, struggling to escape, formed tears in her eyes. "I have worked every day in the fields, overheated and tired, for a family who doesn't appreciate anything I do, but for some reason I still do it every single day. And if you truly think that I'm walking out of this house with a machete in order to run away and be happy without you all, then you are proving the exact point I've just made."

Ada placed their packed bags on the table with a loud clunk, her face set and stance ready to fight. "Now if you don't mind, I've got better things to do than stand around trying to explain myself to you. So shove it."

During her little rant, Cam finally noticed the machete and nonplussed by her anger, he asked, "Wait, so, where are you going?"

Phillipe, feeling vicariously empowered by her speech, lost the look of pride and admiration on his face to huff and roll his eyes at the red-headed brother. "She's going to get justice for the farm, you nitwit," he said angrily. "The Hund killed your stock."

"The Hund?" Bill said, his green eyes widening and looking at Ada in astonishment.

Cam had a similar look as well but it was quickly replaced with a sneer of derision. "The Boogeymen, you mean? Tch," he shook his head lazily as Bill moved from the doorway to dig through some drawers under one of the beds in the far corner of the downstairs room. "Can you believe this? So, we're supposed to respect you and your choices when you have plans to go after fairy tales as some weird justice thing? As a woman, who's never won a fight with either me or Bill in her life? And you're bringing a machete?" Cam glanced at Phillipe but the ex-footman said nothing; it wasn't something to argue against. Folks in these parts either believed in the Hund or they didn't.

Bill looked up and met his gaze from where he was crouched by the bed, but Cam merely laughed breathlessly in his throat and gave Ada an up and down that basically cast her as nothing in his eyes. "Yeah, I'm not the one missing the point here, baby sister," he said with an arrogant shrug. Turning to the door he called over his shoulder, "C'mon Bill. Let's get back to doing some real work. We'll let these two go on their little imaginary quest."

Once Cam had gone, Bill came over to Ada, bringing with him a small obect wrapped in cloth. Unwrapping it, Bill revealed an unsheathed knife of superior design and craftsmanship. "Not sure if you remember," he started in his usual morose tones. "But I used to always be the knight in our games as kids. Well, I worked for a couple of the neighboring farms in the area one summer and saved up enough money to buy this from a blacksmith in Ammon. It used to be big enough to be a sword for me but now..." It was true, the blade was barely as long as his lanky forearm. "Anyway, it's not much use to me now and just sits and collects dust. There might not be Hund in the Silverthorn but..."

Here he glanced at Phillipe and the young man shifted in discomfort under the eldest brother's scrutiny. "There are other things you'll need protection from." Phillipe momentarily frowned and glanced around the room, wondering if that was a condemnation of himself as either a possible attacker or an unfit protector. "Just be careful, Addie." There was no sentimentality, no soft touches of love or affection as he handed the blade over and walked solemnly out the door to join his brother to continue cleaning the yard.

"Tch, tight arse," Phillipe mumbled. "Sorry I brought up the Hund. You'd think a sheep farmer would be a little more humble than that, considering the way half the flock died. Who'da thunk, the red-head was such an arrogant little prick?" Glancing at the knife Ada had been given, he nodded his head and said, "Nice. Should be handy, yeah?"

They left before Ronan arrived, headed on the road towards Silverthorn woods. The forest was dense, the pathways through it practically invisible and the pair had to walk a short distance before the way opened up between the trees enough for them to have space to breathe and see. Under the thick canopy, the sunlight was dimmed, the murk playing tricks with the eye as shadows moved through the brush alongside them.

Phillipe, from his sources, knew where the two who'd killed the sheep would be. The only thing he didn't know was who'd given them orders. Often, wolfen like Hel and Morko weren't loyal to just one group but were up for hire on any jobs that fit their qualifications. It could have been anyone in the Hund who'd told them to kill the Blanche's sheep. Once they found the name of that individual or at least the pack, it'd be easier to follow the trail of who ultimately asked for it done.

They didn't talk much on the way, especially once they'd entered the woods. Phillipe knew that there was indeed always someone watching in the Silverthorn. He just assumed that Ada would know what she was doing once they got in there but he was willing to show her the way, hoping in the back of his mind, that she didn't ask too many questions about how or why he knew so much about the Hund in the first place.

"We'll try the Thicket first," Phillipe said, slowing down in their hike indicating that they were nearing somewhere. "That's where my gut tells me they might be."

Phillipe started to go around a thick, tall tree with a bramble bush, branches wiry and tangled, obscuring the right side of it. The air around them was turning green and yellow from the sun setting outside the woods. Standing in front of the tree, Phillipe matter of factly took out a pocket knife and with a quick glance over his shoulder, slapped a shallow cut across his palm. He briefly looked at Ada, giving her a small, grim smile, then placed his palm on the tree as the blood began to swell. The knot he placed it on was just an inch above his head, eye level for someone about a foot taller than him. A faint click sounded and the brambles moved slightly, Phillipe stepping towards them and wrenching them up to reveal a door at the base of the tree, made out of the roots and covered on the outside with the unruly bush.

Realizing this was weird, Phillipe tore a bit of his shirt to wrap around his hand as he shrugged and said, "A contract. If you cause trouble or leave debts unpaid, they can find you by the blood you used to enter. So...try to behave yourself. My blood's on the line here, heh." That last was said with a faint bit of humor but he hoped she knew he was serious. The blood he smeared might have faded from sight in the few seconds they'd been standing at the door to the underground entrance, but the Hund kept a catalogue of the scents and tastes of all who entered the establishment. Stepping back and offering her the way first, Phillipe said, "Welcome to the Thicket."

Climbing below, they entered a foyer, the walls and ceiling seemingly carved from the bowels of a tree. Weapons were stored in little uneven cubbies against the wall, some hanging on hooks and others just leaned against the wall. A creature, only about 3 or 4 feet tall, stood oiling and polishing some of them, merely glancing at the newcomers without a word.

"We have to check the knives we brought," Phillipe said in a hushed whisper. A roar like that of a distant crowd could be heard from the neighboring room and Phillipe glanced nervously in that direction. "If we get caught with anything, it could be this is where the road stops for us." He hoped she understood and took this seriously because again, his blood on the door made him incredibly nervous.

Checking their weapons with the little, skinny goblin in the foyer, Phillipe was handed a small bark chip with the symbol for "15" on it, and he tucked it into his pocket as they entered the main room. A long room opened up before them, a bar on one side and tables and chairs filling the space on the other. The air was gloomy with an olive yellow color, the lanterns giving off a fuzzy light through the smoke in the room - there was no fire except on the cigarettes and pipes of the patrons, the light instead formed from fungi, accentuated by the glass globes placed around them.

Phillipe rubbed his lips nervously as he looked around the room, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end and his heart pounding feverishly. There were wolfen and wolves all around. Men who felt "off" when you looked at them but who's brutish appearances discouraged close study, sat at some of the tables. Wolves, almost as tall as Phillipe's rib cage, walked through the place and in between tables, on all fours, like pets run loose, an intelligence in their eyes that bespoke of something more than just simple animals. A werewolf leaned against the bar, his long fingered, distorted, half-paw hands gripping a glass full of ambiguous amber liquid.

Swallowing thickly, Phillipe stepped up to the bar where the tender was washing some glasses in a soapy, scummy water basin. Dropping the names of their targets, the man pointed further down the length of the room where the roar and laughter of the crowd could be heard even louder now. Turning to Ada, he took in a deep, nervous breath and pointed as he said, "This way."

Past the bar and tables where members of the Hund gambled or ate from plates filled with dubious meat, they came upon a crowd gathered around a small fenced arena. More wolfen and werewolves stood crowded around, the noise of their cries deafening as they cheered or jeered at the action in the circle. As Phillipe led Ada to the front where they could see what was happening, they saw two wolves fighting each other in the ring. One of the wolves was completely white, his fur a creamy shade, and the other had white underbelly while the rest of him was gray, getting darker towards the middle of his back.

"Boxing match," Phillipe murmured close to Ada's ear so that she could hear. "The Hund version, anyway."

The fight seemed to be nearing its end, the gray wolf injured and circling the other with a limp. Eventually, the white wolf charged with an offensive attack, the two growling like the sound of someone violently crumpling paper, as they bit and clawed one another. The white used his advantage well, biting down hard on the already injured leg, until a sharp yelp and whine broke through the ruckus and the gray wolf fell down. The crowd grew even more lively as the white wolf walked a circuit around the ring to soak it in. After the gray wolf was taken out of the ring, the white wolf too left, suddenly standing on two legs as he walked from the ring.

Grabbing Ada's arm, Phillipe led her through the cracks in the robust crowd and around the ring to where chairs and tables were off to the side. There they found the white wolf plopping down in a chair and lighting a cigarette, his hands becoming man's hands as they watched, and his trousers reappearing as the fur slowly faded. "Morko," Phillipe whispered to her, licking his lips nervously as he looked around them. "We'll just ask him some questions and then we'll go, yeah?"

By the time they approached the table, Morko's fur was all but gone, the last vestiges of it on his head, where a shock of white-blonde sat on his crown. A muscular fellow, shirtless and sweating from his fight, Morko had the stupid look of a man who had to follow orders because he couldn't think for himself. Even still, there was something underhanded and altogether deceptive in the way he held himself.

Cam, to Ada’s knowledge, had never truly believed in the Hund. The stories her mother had told them as children of the monsters in the wood had very obviously scared him, but she always had a feeling that their existence was simply too much to accept for him. Cam was a man with a brain that didn’t make detours, always straight to the point and brutally honest with his opinions; imagination, fairy tales, magic - these things were out of his perception. Her expression didn’t change as he continued to sneer at them both. She knew there was no getting through to him. The big brother she’d known as a child had died alongside his mother.

Bill was, of course, a different kind of person. His emotions always carefully managed and his expression always impassive, Bill had drifted far from Ada in the last few years. She wasn’t sure exactly why he’d changed so drastically, because while the death of his mother had been hard he’d never once let it get to him, but then again she’d never asked. In comparison to Cam, Bill kept a protective eye over her, but only when he noticed her distress - like his brother, very rarely. His reaction to the mention of the Hund made her suspicious. Like Cam, Bill had always seemed skeptical of the Hund’s existence, but now she wasn’t so sure.

The gift of the knife surprised her thoroughly, especially considering that Bill had worked so hard to purchase it. She still remembered the look on his face upon his return from Ammon, happiness beaming from a giant smile. Yet now he handed it off to her and he no longer smiled. On the contrary, his expression was that of cold stone, shifting to Phillipe beside her. Ada’s tawny eyes followed, gazing at him with a frown tickling at the corners of her lips. This man? Dangerous? But despite her doubt, she felt she knew what Bill was getting at. Phillipe was a man. As if she didn’t know that.

“I expected as much,” Ada shrugged in reply to Phillipe’s words, her attention still following Bill from through the window. She was at least somewhat glad that she’d told them how she felt. If she died, at least she’d have no regrets.

Collecting their things, the two set out into the Silverthorn. Memories of late night hunting trips flooded back to Ada as they pressed through the dense underbrush. She remembered dreaming of tiny lights dancing in the trees, of miniature people who fled from sight, of a humming tune that sounded familiar, and in that moment as they slowly approached the doom that was the Hund, Ada wondered if all of those things had truly been a dream.

They talked little as they walked, but as the sun slowly began to set they seemed to have reached their first destination. Ada’s eyebrows furrowed lightly as Phillipe pulled out his knife. His back caused a sight barrier between them for a moment, but as soon as she realized what he’d done, suspicion hit her at full force in the abdomen, causing her heart to thump unhappily in her chest. He seemed extremely nonchalant about the situation, even joking lightly with her as he explained what was happening. A thought appeared in her mind, then - a doubtful thought - a cancerous thought.

How did he know so much? How had he known everything from the start? An odd feeling pitting her stomach, Ada pressed through the entrance into the foyer of trees. She was greeted by the sight of a goblin and was more taken aback than she thought she’d be. Goblins, fairies, trolls, oh my; such things were but few of the monsters her mother had told her stories about. Wary of the creature, but not wanting to appear spooked, Ada allowed her face to become slack and indifferent. Following Phillipe’s instructions, she checked all of the weapons they’d brought (except, of course, the small dagger hidden in the inside pocket of her corset.

The main room was long and busy, with many patrons at and around the tables and bar. Ada’s eyes flickered between some of the larger, more intimidating men. Perhaps it was the fear and intimidation, or perhaps it was the anger bubbling up in her stomach, but she found herself unable to look away from them. Their lumbering steps and their pulsating, veiny arms made them seem just a little too wrong to be right. As her eyes took in her surroundings, she locked gazes with a wolf that undoubtedly could crush her if it sat on her. She stared back at it as Phillipe spoke to the tender, unable to look away, mesmerized by the sharp amber color of its eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, Phillipe’s voice brought Ada back to her senses. She followed him towards a small arena and frowned upon the sight of the match. It seemed that, regardless of species, men loved to fight each other for sport. She’d never truly understood the excitement of watching two guys beat each other up, but then again she wasn’t a man.

The fight ended soon after they arrived, the white wolf the victor. Ada was more interested in the gray wolf being carted off, but Phillipe’s hand found her arm and she realized that he knew the winner. Morko, he said. They’d just ask questions and go, he said. Something inside of Ada didn’t like that plan. Judging by the attitudes and behaviors of the men and the fighters, she didn’t think for a second that he was going to cooperate.

“You’re Morko, right?” Ada asked, her voice an ice pick. Her eyes flickered to his cigarette. An opening. "Mind giving me a light?" From her pocket she produced a half-used pack of cigarettes - nicked from Cam, since they had many uses other than making you cough - and stuck it in her mouth. She leaned close to him as she waited for him to reply, until a begrudged growl escaped him and he lit the cigarette for her. She wasn't much of a smoker, mostly because they cost a lot and she hated the taste, but she used the cigarette as a visual filter; she seemed more approachable as a smoker in a room full of cigarette smoke.

Ada, her tawny eyes never leaving him, took a long draw, the taste bitter, then pulled the cigarette from her lips and blew a stream of smoke towards Morko's face. A small smile perched upon her mouth. "A little birdy told me that you were hired for a hit last night, on a small farm just outside the forest," she said. Another drag, another puff, and Ada took the chair beside the man. The nicotine helped to disguise the tremor in her hands. "I'd really like to know who put you up to it. Think it might be an old friend of mine who needs a talking to, see?"

A small laugh accompanied by a puff of smoke escaped him, but no words.

That made her angry.

"See the reason I ask," Ada continued while tapping the ash from her cigarette onto his lap, "is because a bigger, less friendly birdy told me that someone isn't too happy about your hit and might be showing up to say hello." The smile on her lips became cold, the chill reflected in her eyes. "And that birdy is a much bigger birdy than you." She leaned back in her chair and as she did, she flicked the butt of the cigarette at his throat. "Then again, I wouldn't mind watching you fight. All that white covered in red? Beautiful."

Who was this person? In all honesty, despite the red hair and the familiar tawny eyes, there was only the vaguest resemblance to the Ada he knew. And there was something chilling, bowel-loosening about her manner, all at once terrifying and...exciting. Phillipe struggled for a moment to school his features, trying not to stare at her in awe and heart pounding desire, instead focusing on the wolfen they were supposed to be interrogating. Phillipe had intended to help her, to ask questions too but standing just behind and to the side by the table, he was content to play silent lackey to Ada's fearsome boss.

For a full minute, the wolfen frowned with a thoughtful look on his face, cigarette smoke drifting lazily up from the butt wedged between his fingers. Finally, "What?" with his thoughtful consternation turning into a sneer of confusion and derision. Phillipe rolled his eyes. Apparently Ada's eloquence and subtly about birds had been misspent on this thuggish dolt. "You know what this wench is on about?" he asked Phillipe, finally taking a drag of his own cigarette.

"Aye. Your arse in hot water if'n you don't answer her questions," Phillipe clarified somewhat patiently. "She's got a contact, much bigger on the food chain than you, who's going to come after you if this mess doesn't get sorted. So, in case you missed it, truly: who ordered the hit you did last night?"

"I don't know you," Morko murmured around a newly lit cigarette, having realized he was being threatened by Ada, redirecting his comments to her. His eyes did briefly dance to Phillipe and he gave the young man a squinty-eyed look of consideration. "I have seen you before... You hang around these parts?"

Coughing and turning his head slightly, Phillipe dug a nervous finger into his ear. "No. Not lately," he mumbled, very obviously not looking at Ada.

Morko seemed to accept that with a brief bounce of nonchalant eyebrows and he glared at Ada with sudden remembrance of the current situation. "I don't know you. I don't believe you. I don't care what you want to know. You ain't got nothin' to bargain with except some vague something another how you know somebody? Piss off. Let me just enjoy my night in peace." He stretched his muscular hand over the table, ugly, grayish green claws sprouting from his fingernails, going halfway into his wolf form. "Go away, little girl and take your puppy with you. I'm done playing games." This last was growled with fangs appearing past his lips and Phillipe glanced towards the exit nervously, wondering if now was a good time to leave. They hadn't found anything out but the time when they could leave with their lives was quickly closing.

Dumb as dirt was a phrase that Ada had never really been able to apply to anyone she'd met, until that moment. So this was the man who had slaughtered half of her family's livelihood? She was surprised he'd made it over the farm's fence without being caught. Tawny eyes narrowed, she glanced between him and Phillipe, noticing the way that her companion was now carrying himself. He seemed more nervous, less willing to meet gazes, and altogether appeared as if he was ready to high tail his way out of the building as soon as she was finished.

The moment Morko seemed to recognize Phillipe cast another cancerous thought into the mix. For the entire duration of her relationship with Phillipe, never once had he mentioned the Hund; not only that, but he didn't seem like the kind of person to even believe in them, as level headed and optimistic as he was. Ada, ashamed for the way she was thinking of him, clenched her jaw and forced the thoughts from her mind. Regardless of her suspicions, now was not the time to be concerned. She was, after all, not leaving until this man gave her what she wanted.

But he didn't seem interested in playing her game. On the contrary, Morko was becoming increasingly agitated, his form shifting and changing to express wolfish traits and features. Ada felt a mixture of panic and defiance roll through her in opposing waves. Her mind considering the options, she leaned forward to rest her elbows upon her knees, which were splayed in an unladylike fashion. As she moved, she once more became aware of the small dagger hidden in her corset, nestled between the boding so it was unnoticeable even by touch.

"If you truly want to risk it, then go ahead," she purred, gifting him with a sneering smile. "I'm going to be walking out of this lovely establishment (she'd noted the expression on Phillipe's face) in just a moment, and as soon as I do, you have sealed your fate." Ada reached out and plucked the cigarette from his lips. She twirled it around her fingers, as she usually did with her quill, just in front of his face almost as if to capture his attentions - a sort of hypnotic, repetitive motion, if you will.

"Now, Morko, just before I leave, consider this." The taunting humor disappeared and the cool mask returned. "Why have you never seen me before? Because an occasion has never risen for me to appear. The reason you recognize my puppy here," she continued, taking the information he knew and using it in her favor, "is because he's the one who cleans up the little messes you wolves leave lying around after hits. You've likely seen him in here before, speaking to others just like I'm speaking to you now. Why? So the Big Bad Wolf doesn't have to come down here and do it himself."

The cigarette's twirls ceased and suddenly Ada jammed the smoking end into Morko's hand. "Now imagine how bad you must've screwed up," she hissed, "that he sent me out here to try to clean up your mess instead of my little puppy. Why don't you think about that in your thick ugly head, hm?" She emphasized the verbal attack by jabbing her finger into his head with ever word. And now that she'd angered the beast? Time to leave. Pronto. "If you'd like to be breathing tomorrow morning, you should let me know before I walk out that door," she said smoothly, standing to cross to Phillipe's side. "I have an escort waiting for me outside and if they see you... well."

She gave him another icy smile, then grasped Phillipe by the hand and began weaving back through the crowd towards the exit. Her heart was beating terribly fast and she felt rather breathless, though whether it was from fear or thrill she couldn't be sure. Ada did, however, hold tightly onto Phillipe, not wanting to be separated from him at any cost.

At first, Phillipe didn't like the way Ada seemed to be focusing on the fact that Morko may have seen his face in the Silverthorn woods before. But considering the effect it was clearly having upon the brute, his eyes moving from side to side as he thought over the very direct implications she was making, Phillipe tried to quell his anxiety about it. Hopefully by the end of this, that would be something they could sweep under the rug and never talk about again.

Morko gave her a direct look when she dropped the name 'Big Bad Wolf' and very obviously the shirtless idiot had begun to breathe more heavily, scared by the prospect that this job went up that high. Ada might not have known about it but the Big Badd was an actual figure, the Lord and Master of the Silverthorn and all the Hund and creatures who dwelt there. Humans had stories of him because among the wolves, the guy was a legend. Rumor had it that he'd started the Hund with nothing but his 5 brothers acting as assassins for local feuds between farming families. Now, supposedly, he was so high up that he merely presided over the enterprise, while indulging in a human life among nobility and royalty. To invoke his name was to threaten the biggest force known to wolves to come down and make a personal visit to correct some error in the system. It was an extremely terrifying thought.

Both Phillipe and Morko were startled when the cigarette was suddenly jabbed into the back of the wolfen's hand and the thug hissed and grimaced in pain as he Ada continued to make her point. with a finger poking him in the forehead, it was clear that Morko had been shaken off his game, because he let her do it without so much as a snap at her hand. Heart pounding the blood in his ears, Phillipe smoothly turned with Ada to walk towards the door, his eyes zipping around the room nervously to make sure that Morko didn't sound the alarm. Thankfully, an arm stopped them halfway through the room, Phillipe turning to see Morko, scared and uncertain trying to stop them from leaving.

"It was just a small gig," he explained breathlessly. "I didn't know it went up that far and I'm sorry for any offense. It wasn't me though. Red Hands the one who hired me." He held up his hands and started to back away. "Look, I didn't even get paid full amount because Hel and me didn't even finish it right. This doesn't fall on me. I don't want any trouble."

Immediately recognizing the name of the pack who hired him, Phillipe nodded that it was enough and the wolfen stopped backing up and just turned around and walked away, rubbing at his wounded hand, having successfully placated his bullies. Turning to Ada, Phillipe nodded towards the door and they proceeded out, stopping to get their weapons. Phillipe kept his cool until they'd climbed back out of the hole in the tree, the night having fully descended upon the forest around them.

As soon as the door snapped shut behind them, Phillipe laughed and whooped in excitement. "Oh my gosh! Bloody hell!" he hollered happily in relief and praise. "What even was that?! You're amazing! Bloody brilliant! At first I was like, 'oh he's going to be dumb to be intimidated' but you got him there at the end! Although, just for future reference, be careful dropping the BBW name. It worked on him but someone smarter might call yer bluff."

Calming down, his eyes shining and his face beaming in the gloom, nothing but dimly lighted fungus on the tree giving off any light, and even then, it was only within a small area, Phillipe held in the urge to continue showering her with praise. She was beautiful, confident, and bloody scary and he...loved her. It wasn't the time for confessions of the heart though, not when they'd just gotten started.

Rubbing a casual finger at his nose, his energy calming down with just enough to get excited about the new lead, he said, "So, Red Hand he said. Seems odd choice for them but that's probably why Morko and Hel were hired." Glancing at the woods, he scratched at the scruff under his neck, trying to gauge direction. "I think I know where they'll be, but it might be better to confront them in the light. They're traveler vexers; anyone unmarked by wolf blood who travels their roads through Silverthorn gets stopped and harassed. Hear about wolf attacks in these woods but the people who ran home have mysteriously lost their wallets? That's their M.O."

Clearing his throat and adjusting the bag on his back, Phillipe said, "Let's make camp, yeah? I've got a good spot where we'll be somewhat sheltered." Smiling at her once more, he turned to start leading the way, trying to stifle the feeling in his heart.

The Red Hand. Ada rolled the name around on her tongue as they collected their weapons. Most of what she knew about the Hund was common talk and legends, so her knowledge of how things worked ended much before the Red Hand became involved. Somewhat obvious to her was that this was a secondary group of wolves or wolven folk; in other words, they likely weren't the ones who originated the idea for the hit. No, it was more likely that it was someone she knew - someone her family knew, but whoever it was she couldn't possible think.

She was still lost in thought when Phillipe's excitement bubbled up to the surface. He was grinning ear to ear and laughing freely; his expression made her feel nostalgic, for it seemed like forever since he'd looked that way at her. Ada felt an ache wrap its painful hand around her heart, knowing that she'd successfully snuffed out much of that happiness only a day before.

But there was something suspicious about Phillipe, something she hadn't noticed until information of the Hund had first escaped his lips. He knew much more about the structure of the Silverthorn's monsters than he led on. Especially when he spoke of the hierarchies and ways of the wolves, Ada found herself feeling very distant from him, like he was of another world. How many things was he hiding from her? And why had it taken her this long to notice?

"So the Big Bad Wolf is real?" she asked, following him as he navigated through the unfamiliar landscape. "I've heard stories, but I always assumed he was a fake. Seemed like a good a time as any to drop the name. That's why he fessed up?" Ada realized she was asking not for the truth, but simply to see if he knew the answer. Somehow that felt very cruel, but she was also extremely desperate to know.

They traveled for some time, and in the span of the journey Ada was completely turned around. She'd only ever come into the Silverthorn with her brothers, but they kept to the edge of the forest and it had always been easy to find your way back. Here was infinitely different, trees pressing in from all sides and the canopy of leaves above leaving little possibility for using the stars. They eventually came near the sound of running water and settled in an area close by (didn't want to describe the sheltered area in case you had something in mind).

Ada trotted through a few more trees and came to the edge of a river, the banks swollen from the most recent rains. After dropping her rucksack and collecting her moleskin, she slipped from her shoes and tiptoed to the edge of the water. The water was warm and slow moving, and extremely refreshing considering her morning. She longed to have a bath, especially to wash the dirt and muck from her hair from the incident in the morning, but there was also a fire to build and a meal to make. After fastening the moleskin, Ada dried her feet upon her skirt and replaced her shoes so to return to Phillipe and help set up camp.

"Aye, he's real," Phillipe said as he walked ahead of Ada, leading the way towards the little campsite where he'd used to stay before, once upon a time. He was so caught up in trying to remember his way and even a little prideful in sharing his knowledge with her, that it didn't occur to him to be a bit more tight-lipped about the things he knew of the Silverthorn woods. "He's basically the King of the Hund. More of a figurehead now although rumor has it he does still occasionally get involved. Except when he does, it's usually for a damned good reason. So, you can see why it'd be a bit scary for a low-level thug like Morko to be threatened with that. It's like saying the King of England is personally disappointed with something you did and will come and tell you to stop it, if you don't behave."

Phillipe wagged his finger and laughed at the comparison and also the ridiculous thought of the King himself coming to chide him personally about something. he couldn't think of anything big enough that he might do that'd warrant such attention.

The place was known once it was seen; The earth was slightly raised, a little island of rock, while on the upper end of it, a tree's upended and exposed roots formed a kind of natural wall. It was just big enough to create a small shelter for two people. Phillipe took off his bag and watched as Ada wandered off towards the stream that cut through the land nearby and he started to root around for the makings of a fire. Singing lightly under his breath, an old ditty his mother used to sing to him, Phillipe was caught unawares by the approach of a couple of visitors. They alerted him of their presence with a small whistle and Phillipe froze, all at once stiff yet his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Turning slowly, he wasn't all that surprised to see Morko standing there with his companion Hel beside him, the scrawny newcomer training a crossbow on him. With a sniff and a jerk of his head, Hel motioned an order to his companion, Morko moving forward to unhook Phillipe's belt and dirk from around his waist. With a grim frown, the short blonde let it happen, not wanting to test whether or not Hel was the type to put poison on his bolts.

"Call her," Hel commanded in a whisper with an ugly, toothy grin.

Phillipe silently shook his head but Morko slammed his heavy fist into his stomach, knocking the wind from Phillipe's body and temporarily blinding him. Bent over at the waist and trying to collect himself, the shorter man finally gave in and called out, "Ada! C'mere for a second! I wanna show you something important!" A hissed grimace appeared on his face as Morko grabbed him by the roots of his shaggy blonde hair, keeping him captive as they waited for his female companion to reappear.

Ada was almost up the bank, still mostly out of sight, when she heard an odd noise coming from where they'd set down their belongings. It was mostly drowned out by the sound of the river, but she heard it nonetheless. Eyebrows knit, she tapped the remaining droplets of water from her legs and hurried up the embankment.

Out of everything she had expected, seeing Morko and another wolvish man holding Phillipe captive was not one of them. She gave a start, frowning at the two of them, before she slipped back into the persona she'd donned at the Thicket. Whatever their purpose was for following them into the woods, Ada had little idea, but she knew that the situation had become very dangerous very quickly. The expression upon Phillipe's face spoke wonders. She could see the edge of his hairline turning white, the skin taught and straining from the grip upon his hair.

"Ladies, this is rather uncalled for," she said, her voice barren of emotion. "I don't recall giving you permission to touch my companion."

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ada sauntered over to the group of men and took a seat on an old, dried stump. Inside her stomach was twisted. This was not how it was supposed to go. Phillipe was not supposed to get hurt. Her tawny gaze flickered to the man with the crossbow and her heart began to pound relentlessly. "I would ask that you put that down, please," she scowled. "There is no need for violence, we are cooperating."

Her mind swallowed by fear, Ada struggled to come up with a plan. Weapons. She of course still had the dagger in her corset, although that wasn't the most accessible blade; Bill's knife was strapped to her thigh, concealed by her skirts. And then there was the machete, sitting rather inconveniently on the ground near Phillipe's feet. The knife was her best option, but she couldn't do a lot against a crossbow. Distance weapons, in her experience, were much faster than trying to stab someone.

"You must be Hel," she continued, turning her attention from the bolt to his eyes. "I've been told that you and Morko work together. You look more in charge than him, though, with that crossbow in hand and Morko holding my companion like your bitch." As Ada spoke she lifted her skirts, pretending to be occupied by a specific spot just above her knee. "Anyway, I'd really like to know what your purpose for coming here is," she huffed. She wouldn't be able to pull out the knife and use it successfully until he'd set aside the crossbow. Frustration bit her lip. "I'm about to cook dinner if you want to talk about it over a meal."

Phillipe was both glad to see her and not, wishing in his gut that something in his tone could've told Ada to run. It would have been preferable to having that crossbow pointed at her, as it was now and even though it made him nervous to be a target, it was agony to think that Hel could slip and shoot her at any moment. Although with a more obvious cunning streak than his companion, Hel wasn't any more competent and Phillipe struggled with the urge to get the attention focused back on himself, just to spare her from being in the line of fire. But he'd risk whatever advantage she had over them now, since it was obvious both Morko and Hel were taken aback by the cool confidence she exuded.

After she finished speaking, Hel glanced at his companion and looked back at her with a sudden incredulous laugh. "Who in the fairying forest do you think you are?" he asked with a smirk. "Why are we here, you ask? Hm, let's think about it a moment. I was enjoying a meal, a meal I paid for after a legit job we did last night. You know how I know it was legit? Because we got paid for it. Even incomplete, it was deemed good enough."

Licking his lips and smirking even wider, his bestial eyes flashing with a violent hunger, he continued, "So, imagine my surprise when my companion comes up to me, frantic and out of sorts because some minion from Big Badd was threatening him about our very legit and completed job last night. I am pretty sure Red Hand wouldn't have signed us on if there was any doubt, since one of the 5 brothers started their group. So, with all of that said," he adjusted his stance, firming his line of fire at her as he cleared his throat, "I want to know who you really are and why you think you know better than I do about the work I've done. And since you put your hands on my bitch without permission, it's only fair we have a hold on yours. You know, keep you honest and thinking clearly about what's at stake here."

The jig was up. Phillipe had no doubt that Ada could talk her way out of this but much like his companion, the suspicious Hel was too stupid to be reasoned with. The only way they'd get out of this was by the fist. Phillipe didn't know if Ada was armed but by the time Hel was talking, he could recognize the subtle cues and change in her posture that meant she was ready for an attack. Was she planning on making a move? Glancing at the crossbow, Phillipe knew she'd need that pointed away from herself if she was going to take that chance and not get shot. He looked at her and briefly caught her gaze, feeling trapped and unsure of what to do to help her, especially if he didn't want to get shot himself.

There was something he could do...but he didn't want to. It'd risk everything he'd worked so hard for and the likelihood that he'd lose it all...was very high. All of a sudden, he felt like there wasn't a choice; his heart belonged to her and he would do everything he could to ensure that Ada made it out of this alive, to continue her journey for justice. With a small flash of a characteristic crooked grin, Phillipe took his moment, his hand, which was free, half-forming a claw and swiping out to catch his distracted captor in the gut.

Morko grunted in pain, releasing Phillipe in surprise and gritting out, "Blasted pup!" even as Phillipe darted behind him to put the wolfen between himself and Hel. Then his body shrunk, fur golden and the color of apricots sprouting over him as he ran on all fours, a plucky wolf suddenly in the place where Phillipe used to be. In a matter of seconds, Morko took his cue, saw the transformation and shifted himself, the white wolf bulkier and more muscular than what Phillipe had turned into. Hel, in shock and surprise at the sudden commotion had turned the crossbow towards the pair, even as the wolves began to growl and fight viciously, a flurry of violence and fur, spinning in the small encampment.

Ada's mind raced to try to think of what to say to keep the monster of a man from nailing her with a quick death. Her hand was close enough to her knife that she could unsheathe it in a matter of moments, but with the crossbow pointed at her face she couldn't reason enough to draw it. Her gaze, skirting between each individual, eventually met Phillipe's. There was a look of desperation in his eyes, sharp and wild, and something else that she couldn't describe.

It was then that she saw his hand change. Ada's mind drew a blank, her chest clenching in bewilderment. His hand. Her tawny gaze followed him as he darted to the side, his body shifting effortlessly. It felt like she was watching the scene in slow motion. There was a warm gust of wind that kicked up the leaves and stirred the trees. She felt strangely outside of her body, overwhelmed by the surprise.

Where Phillipe once stood now bristled a golden coated wolf, his teeth barred and eyes wild. Had she breathed? Ada forced herself to inhale, forced her eyes to leave the gold wolf, forced herself to grab the hilt of her knife and unsheathe it as she stood. Had the world gone silent? The blood was pounding in her ears and there was a loud ringing, as if she'd been clobbered in the skull. Her attention fell on Hel, who had turned from her to focus on the brawl between the two wolves. An opening.

It wasn't every day that you killed a man. But there was something inside her that wanted to destroy him, to rip him apart. Perhaps it was the memories of the farm, with corpses spilled across the grass, blood dying the topsoil red. Perhaps it was the need to protect her companion. Was that what he was? What was he? Ada swallowed back the crazed thoughts. She knew exactly what he was.

Knife in hand, Ada rushed Hel, her body dropping low at the last moment to rip the knife through the soft skin at the back of the knees. He let out a roar of pain and anger, teetering as his legs threatened to give out. He whirled around to aim the crossbow at her, but his wound slowed him, allowing her to ram her shoulder into him. Hel fell with a giant crash, the weapon flying from his hands to lie a few feet away. Ada stumbled from the impact and was regaining her balance when his hand wrapped around her ankle and snatched her foot from under her. She went down kicking and yelling, anger dripping from her tongue. He was bigger than her - much bigger - and pinned her to the ground on hands and knees.

One of his hands upon her wrist became large and prickly with coarse hair. Her arm was free for a moment, then pinned once more, and a fiery pain split down the side of her head, three deep scratches breaking the skin from the side of her face to just above her ear. The pain gave her newfound adrenaline and Ada lifted her knee hard, slamming into his groin. A yelp escaped him, but she didn't stop; she rolled her feet upwards between his legs and kicked hard up and to the side, sending him sprawling next to her.

Grabbing her knife, which had fallen from her grasp, Ada rushed forward and kicked him hard in the side repeatedly. He swiped at her a few times, catching her ankle once with his claws, but she didn't fall this time. He fought at first, but now his movements were slowed; the wounds at the back of his legs were beginning to take their tole. After one last kick Ada drove her knife at him, connecting with his stomach. A cry escaped him and he desperately grabbed at the hilt, but she pulled it back and this time got him in the chest. Hel squirmed for a moment, grasping at her clothing with blood soaked hands and yelling curses at her, but he quickly fell silent, then quickly fell still.

Breathing hard, Ada turned back to the brawling wolves, her eyes aflame and blood streaming down the side of her face. She moved back towards them, scooping up the crossbow as she did, and aimed it towards Morko's bloodstained white fur. She waited a few moments before he and Phillipe had separated in their dueling before she released the bolt, watching it fly forward and slam into his shoulder. The thud it made as it met his bone caused a shifter to crawl up her spine. She let another fly, this time catching his hind leg. He stumbled. Ada dropped the crossbow, now out of bolts without Hel's supply, with a thud.

He hoped it was enough because as soon as Phillipe changed, Morko was coming after him, in his true form as well, and there was no time to look and make sure Ada was okay. The first few times the two wolves engaged, it was nips and claws swiping out, just trying to make purchase. Phillipe hadn't shifted in years and he was unused to the method of fighting with mostly his mouth as a weapon. The lack of confidence made him wary of biting out or sticking his neck out too far in the chaos, so, even as he was great defensively, constantly moving out of reach of the white wolf's fangs just in time, Phillipe was unable to really make a mark on the other wolf either.

Tired of the game, Morko made a quick and dirty snap at the back of Phillipe's back leg at the hamstring. Again, he was too fast for much damage to be done but the bite did hit its mark. It didn't hurt all that badly, but Phillipe whimpered sharply and held his leg up gingerly, forcing a limp as he broke for some distance between them. Morko panted in delight and dove for him, predictably going for the weak spot to bring Phillipe down. Anticipating the direction, Phillipe jumped high on his hind legs, while Morko's head went low, his teeth clamping down with a mouthful of white, furry ear and giving it a savage, wild jerk of his head. Morko didn't get his desired bite in, instead biting and snapping at Phillipe's side and back, while whining in agony as the little golden wolf refused to let go of the sensitive appendage. Blood started to drip and smear in threads down the back of the white wolf's head and neck.

Finally, a sharp pinch on his back made Phillipe loosen his grip and Morko was free, shaking his head in pain, even as he prepared himself for another brutal, vengeful attack. Phillipe didn't dare move his eyes away from his quarry to look at Ada but he knew fortune was on his side when a bolt stuck into the side of Morko's shoulder. Was that an accident? Or had Ada shot it? Morko refused to be distracted, lunging forward, only stopping when another bolt struck his hind leg, a yelp and a stumble giving Phillipe the opening he needed.

Blood filled his senses like a pot boiling over on the stove and Phillipe was consumed by the animal part of him. Nothing but his survival and the desire to win existed inside of him, the part of him that was concerned for Ada quiet and slumbering at the moment. Teeth dug into the flesh at his shoulder, blood gushing forth from the hole already made, even as Phillipe yanked him to the ground with a vicious snap of his neck. The hole tore even more, Morko rolling on his back, trying to roll nimbly away, but Phillipe was over him, feet planted in the ground to keep his prey caged. Then at his neck, lifting his head once to growl dominantly at his foe, regaining purchase enough to squeeze the life from the white wolf. The blood pouring from his body was helped along as he was suffocated by the growling maw clamping his airway shut, and within 2 minutes, Morko had grown still.

Phillipe sat back on his heels, kneeling by the side of the white wolf's corpse, blood still smeared on his lips and chin in uneven streaks. Breathing heavily, shoulders slumped, Phillipe took a moment to recollect himself, even as he leaned over the side of the white carcass and spit blood out of his mouth. It'd been a really long time since he'd been in his true form last and it took some effort just to calm down. Pressured by the urgency of wondering what had happened to Ada, Phillipe looked up and around, his eyes worriedly finding her back by Hel's body. He too was shrinking from human form to a chocolatey brown color, like the color his curly hair had been.

Blinking and panting slightly, Phillipe stood on unsteady feet, his eyes wide when he saw the blood running down the side of her face. "Oi! Ye alright?" he asked, guilt lancing through him to see her not only wounded but practically on the face as well. "Bloody hell...! I'm sorry! I'm such a dunce! I should'nt've..." He stopped because there it was, his body frozen and chilled now that it was staring him right in the face; She knew. She'd seen him transform.

Suddenly he couldn't look at her, frightened of this moment and wishing more than anything he could take it all back now. Awkwardly anxious, Phillipe started to rub at his fingers with one hand, absorbed by the dirt and earth that was pressed into the lines and creases of his palms from his paws being dug into the dirt during the fight. He didn't know what to say about it and he didn't want to hear what she had to say. He'd dreaded this moment back when he'd had plans to propose and marry her, having to tell her at some point so she knew who she was going to be walking down the aisle with. But now, when she'd made it very clear that she didn't want him like that, that she barely tolerated him...? It was like waking up to a hellish nightmare.

"Um..." he said, taking in a deep breath through his nose, nodding with a sense of finality like he was going to say something meaningful. Licking his lips, he lifted his head and gave her a fleeting look, "I'm going to...go rinse my mouth and wash off the blood..." He didn't wait, taking the moment to escape to the river, hoping the solace of the water and distance from Ada would magically make this all less painful than it was.

It was the blood all over his mouth that frightened her. Ada took a wary step back, still breathing hard from the fight, and didn't respond to him as he spoke. How was it that in only a few moments, he'd returned to his normal self? As if he hadn't just become an animal before her? He fell silent for a moment and she could tell from his expression that he was just as frightened as she was. Had he not trusted her with his secret? Had he believed she would push him away if he spoke the truth?

Between the fight and the moment of revelation, she felt numb. Angry hot tears slipped down her cheeks, breaking through the dirt and blood as they traveled. Sniffling, Ada turned her attention to the bodies. What was she to do with them? Bleary eyed she wobbled to her machete and collected it to use as a makeshift shovel. A few metes away from the encampment she cleared some soil for a shallow grave, knowing full well that she didn't have the energy to dig a proper one.

They didn't deserve one anyway.

Both men's bodies had shifted to wolf form upon their deaths. Ada grasped them by their back legs and dragged them across the bloodied earth to the grave, grunting as she did. More tears fell. Why had she insisted upon coming? But she couldn't turn back now, not with this blood on her hands. Not knowing that Phillipe... After dragging both bodies into the grave, Ada replaced the dirt over them, then moved back to the encampment and sat on the stump.

Blood was pooling into her ear, sticky and hot. She sifted through her bag and pulled out a small bottle of liquor. The bottle and her knife in hand, Ada made her way down to the river. She didn't look at Phillipe at first, instead wishing to keep to herself. After washing the knife in the water, she used it to cut a strip of cloth from the bottom of her skirt. She soaked the cloth in the warmth, then lifted it to her head and began wiping down her wound. It stung terribly, causing her to wince and flinch, but she knew once it was cleaned it would feel much better. Once she'd wiped it down sufficiently, she cleaned and wrung out the strip of cloth so she could instead soak it in the alcohol.

That, perhaps, hurt more. Ada bit her tongue and swallowed the pain. She repeated the same treatment for her ankle, though it was a smaller wound and wouldn't need to be bandaged. Her eyes eventually trickled over to Phillipe, calm and unreadable. "I guess this explains why you know so much about the Hund," she said and gave a weak, awkward laugh. She looked away. "You were probably right to keep it a secret," she continued. "I likely wouldn't have been very nice about it if the circumstances were different."

Ada stood and immediately stumbled, the head wound causing a dizzy spell. She sat quickly and stared out over the water. As if she hadn't cried enough today, she cried once more, this time loud and ugly. "You jerk!" she shouted, her voice dampened by her hands over her face. "You've been lying to me this whole time, Phillipe!" A sob. "How do you expect love me if you can't even be honest with me?" She staggered to her feet and threw a handful of soil at him, knowing full well that it wouldn't reach him. "Now I feel like a bloody fool for thinking I was special to you," she screeched, "when you didn't even share who you were with me!"

She was not scared of him. She was angry. She felt, for the first time in her life, that the only person who mattered had betrayed her trust. He was a wolf, yes. He wasn't human, yes. But in that moment, he wasn't the Phillipe she knew, and that was worse than anything. Wild hot anger poured out of her and she ran at him, wanting to tackle him to the ground, wanting him to understand that she hated him, that she loved him, that he'd betrayed her.

The river wasn't the solace he'd hoped it would be. At first, Phillipe knelt at the bank and just stared at the water rushing by, not really seeing it, numbed and yet stressed about his exposed state. Finally, when he couldn't stand the blood quickly growing sticky on his skin any longer, he leaned forward and plunged his hands into the cool water, bringing up handfuls of it to splash and rub at his face. He felt somewhat better, taking in mouthfuls at the last, swishing it around his cheeks to get the familiar taste out of his mouth and spitting it all out to flow with the current downstream.

When Ada arrived, Phillipe tensed up again, just waiting for the words to come. It was the only way they'd get past this and he desperately wanted to but he knew the words would have to start from her. He didn't know what to defend himself against. He'd always assumed that the very fact that he was a monster would disgust her but when the confronting words came, that wasn't what she was mad about. Oh. Right. He'd lied to her.

Phillipe struggled with how he was supposed to act in this situation. When she stumbled on her feet, he half-rose from his kneeling position in concern but stopped when she plopped down to cry. That was like a bloody knife to the heart and he cringed helplessly, impotent in being able to comfort her or ease her tears. The thrown dirt was a shock and even though it didn't even come close to him, Phillipe still flinched away with a grunted, "Oi!" of offense.

Confusion raged in his pounding heart. What was she on about? Yeah, he lied. Yeah, he was a monster. But she was upset because she thought he cared about her? He was still frowning over that when she charged him, his eyes popping wide in frantic surprise and he stood quickly to absorb her weight crashing into him. Trying to hold her arms, he let her hit him with her fists but finally backed away from her, shouting, "Oi! Oi! Hey! Ho! Stop! Quit it!"

His tone growing deep, with finality he shouted, "Enough! Bloody fricking hell!" Now he was mad and he glared at her, his blue eyes grown dark in the gloom. "What do ya bloody want from me, yeah?!" he screamed. His breath came in hissed gusts through his gritted teeth but he kept himself at least a full arms length from her. "Maybe you're too overwhelmed with all the bloody proposals and all lately but to refresh yer memory, your exact words were: I'd never be happy with you, Phillipe. You called it 'insulting' and sickening to even be asked in a joke -- a frigging joke -- let alone asked seriously to be with me, instead of someone you clearly didn't want to marry. Now you're all in a tizzy about how this lie was an example of me not caring enough? Are you mad?!" His expression cleared as he suddenly laughed incredulously at her, shrugging and waving his arms helplessly. "Why in God's name would I ever tell someone who said that to me, my most darkest, most vulnerable secret?! I get to take your abuse and have to give you every part of me willingly, obediently, without any commitment from you, izzat it? Hell no. You must be joking."

Letting out a desperate, breathless laugh, Phillipe ran his hand through his hair, suddenly extremely tired. "I'm sorry you're upset that I didn't tell you," he said soberly, shrugging again. "But the moment you told me to piss off about getting my bloody feelings all over you, was the moment I reserved this secret for my future fiance. Because telling anyone else would be too painful."

Looking at her, he was overwhelmed with the feeling that he didn't want to be here anymore. It was too much, he realized. He loved her too frigging much and it hurt that she wouldn't give him even the smallest chance but he was still expected to beg at her feet for the slightest approval. Maybe she'd be better off doing this on her own. Free falling internally, he suddenly thought how much energy he'd put into her and how much time he'd wasted and even after this whole Hund thing was over, he didn't know if he wanted any contact with her again. Not if it hurt this much. Maybe just some time apart would do them some good, a hopeful part of him thought, but he was already mentally trying to prepare himself for mourning her absence. Crap. He'd left work with barely an argued explanation. What had he done to his life for this girl?

Still, the feelings weren't gone and he couldn't turn them off, so, even as he quickly made up his mind, he longed for one thing he'd never had the courage to get. "Huff puff," he cursed softly with a resigned exhale. Striding forth, he quickly closed the distance between them, hand placed firmly at her waist and pulling her body snug against his, his lips finding hers in a sudden kiss. His other hand plunged into her red hair, cradling the back of her head as his lips smoothly danced across hers, angling his head to the side to deepen the kiss. His hand at her waist slipped across her hip to the small of her back and in a blink it was over.

He reluctantly stepped back a foot and released her, looking at her for a moment, his eyes searching her face like he was lost. Crap. Why in the hell had he done that? For some reason, that good bye kiss was making things harder. Swallowing thickly, he looked away from her and cleared his throat. "The Red Hand patrol the Western road between Ammon and Richmond through the Silverthorn woods," he said, rubbing a hand at his brow in worry. Was he really going to leave her? "It's about 3 miles from here so it'll put you far from Schafedorf but hopefully...you'll get the information you need from them."

Her anger mixed with her tears made her few moments of grappling with him confusing and lame. She could feel that her hands were weak, that her attacks on him were useless. Ada's body calmed as Phillipe's moved into action. It was as if her emotional energy had transferred to him, but he had been holding it all in for much longer. She took a step back, shame casting a shadow over her. What was she doing? Why had she tried to hit him? Why was she treating him like this was all his fault?

It obviously wasn't. She had been the one to betray him first. She had been the one to break him first. Ada felt nauseas, unable to understand why, despite how much she approved of him, she treated him the way she did. It was as if she was a petty child, teasing and bullying her crush because she didn't understand how to cope with it. She'd never been honest with him. How could she say such words to him? She allowed him to empty his anger at her. She took ever word that he spoke to heart, allowing it to be felt but refusing to let it hurt, even though it did. Even after he'd fallen silent, Ada stood silently before him, feeling the anger leaking off of him into the air.

In her gloom, she didn't see the kiss coming. Ada started as he came towards her, expecting worse, but found herself crushed against him. A sort of panic flooded over her, her mind crying out, but her heart, her body stamped out the cries and gave in. Her skin tingled and sizzled where his hand ran along her back. There was a hunger to the kiss, as if he was more than happy to take it from her, and the dam that confined her feelings towards him cracked.

When it ended, Ada felt as if she was in a daze. Her lips were filled with sensations she'd never experienced - she'd only kissed a few boys without her father knowing, but never like this - and her heart was beating so quickly it almost flew from her chest. His words, however, caused it to beat for a new purpose. What? Was he leaving? After everything? After that?

No.

Ada re-closed the distance between them, grasping his tunic with both hands and pulling him to her. She kissed him with a short, unexperienced peck, then stepped back, staggering slightly, and met his eyes. "I said those things to hurt you," she said as a deep blush colored her freckled cheeks. "So you would stop liking me because I was going to be married. You twat."

She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with herself, with the emotions she felt. "I'm going to cook some food," she added, chewing her lip. "And if you stay, I'll give you more of, um, whatever just happened." The blush deepened and Ada hurried to collect the knife and bottle before heading back to the encampment to make dinner.

Another mouthful of her was not what he expected and he found himself leaning after her as she popped him a short smooch and withdrew. It took Phillipe a moment to grasp what she was saying to him immediately after, his head reeling with the realization that she'd just grabbed him and kissed him! As her words came in clearer, he frowned slightly in thought, remembering the interaction yesterday afternoon and wondering about the small foolish dance they'd just done to each other. There was something seriously wrong with the Blanche family's emotional integrity.

With the invitation to dinner, Phillipe blinked and watched her go back up the embankment to the campsite. Briefly, he set a hand on his torso, looked around and wondered if at any time he'd hit his head or fallen asleep. The realization that this was not in fact a dream dawned on him with a smile and he mutely raised his fist in the air and jerked it back in to tuck in his side triumphantly. Panting and smiling to himself in the darkness, he turned quickly and scrabbled up the embankment to join her at the campfire.

Coming into the light, he slowed down to a dignified pace and walked to a seat by the fire and right beside her. Phillipe noted the bodies of the wolven were gone and he wondered what she'd done with them, before thoughts of more kisses shoved thoughts of anything else out. Sitting by the fire with her, he was silent for a moment while she prepared their meal and a playful smirk came to his face.

"I came for the sandwiches," he said with a mock somberness, "But I stayed for the kisses! Pffft!" He chuckled brightly and cast her a fond look. "Was that really what convinced you? Because I actually have a few more arguments to make..."

Leaning in close to her, nuzzling her neck and cheek, he began planting more kisses upon her, eager to find her lips. It was like a floodgate and he couldn't stop, like a caged bird suddenly released, wanting to love her in all the ways he'd dreamed of before. Finding a soft earlobe, his lips opened to gently latch on, letting go with seductive slowness as his hand found her waist and gently yet forcefully pulled her closer to him. Rubbing the bit of scruff overgrowth on his chin against her to scent her and make her smell like him, even as he breathed deeply of the scent of her skin that was so purely her. He was intoxicated by it all! Never having gotten to touch her and smell her this close before, he was dizzy with the freedom to do so. He was no longer hungry for the food she was making, if he ever had been in the first place.

Ada worked diligently to bring the fire to life, burning just strong enough to get a simple pot of food ready. She'd brought an eclectic assortment of food, mostly things that the cottage wouldn't miss or what could be easy to carry. She decided to make a sort of vegetable stew, since she'd brought some vegetables that could marinate and dance together to create a relatively acceptable taste.

She suspected the pot just above the fire using a few sticks lashed together. It was a weak, unbalanced structure, but all the same it worked. Once it was steaming away, she sat back, stirring it occasionally. Truth be told, this stew wasn't going to be exactly appetizing, but food was food and they obviously had to eat.

After being as cheeky as she'd been, Ada couldn't find the strength to look Phillipe in the eyes once he'd sat down next to her. She'd always spurred his advances and it had been some time since anyone had made her feel so strongly. Her heart pounded, perhaps happily, in her chest as it remembered what had happened. Had he really been about to leave her? She knew that she'd hurt him badly, but she hadn't realized to what extent her words had hurt him. He really wanted to marry her? That was a first. Fair, porcelain skin was the talk of the town - nobody had ever liked her freckles, except her mother. Nobody had ever liked her enough to consider marrying her.

Phillipe's eagerness to touch her caused her body to become very hot and flustered. Tingling sensations arrived from gentle touches. Her mouth felt dry. Ada cleared her throat, stirring the strew once more. "Phillipe--," she started, blushing deeply. The bite to her ear sent shivers down the back of her neck. She wanted to touch him too. Her mind struggled to remain on the meal in front of her.

Finally giving in, Ada melted a kiss to his lips, a genuine kiss that made her head spin. "I can't cook dinner if you're holding so tightly," she murmured, her breath brushing his cheek. She planted another kiss on his jawline, a longer kiss than before, and reluctantly pulled out of his grasp as red faced as ever. She stirred the stew once more, her breathing hastened. "Can you grab the spoons from the rucksack? We can eat right out of the pot in a second... and while we eat you can tell me about your secret."

Now she couldn't stop staring at him, craving more but knowing that they had to eat and have a night of sleep if they wanted to be relatively alive for the next day. Her hand subconsciously lifted up to her lips, her elbow resting on her knees, and she ran her finger across them.

Finally, a return kiss from her was the bliss he'd been searching for. It was one thing to kiss her and have her respond but for her to initiate and pour passion across their lips was like the daydreams that had danced across his mind the last several years. But just like that, it was broken and she was talking softly to him. Wait, she was cooking food right now? When they were busy kissing? This seemed like a case of priorities out of order to him but he couldn't help smiling stupidly at her, pretty much okay with smooching some more or helping her cook; whatever. She was his and she wanted to be his. Cloud 9 was where he was firmly planted.

Without argument, he rose from his seat to dig into the rucksack and pull out a pair of spoons for them both, his back tensing when she brought up 'his secret.' Glancing back at her, there was a wariness about him again. Now they'd gotten past the fact that he lied but...he was still a monster in human eyes. Having cleared the water between them, he understood that he was being given the shot he'd always wanted to have. She could be his wife someday, even soon. Even still, she was his best friend and he owed her the truth.

Walking back over to his seat right next to her and the fire, he handed her one of the spoons he held and sighed deeply. "Well...where to start," he said, biting his bottom lip briefly. Phillipe decided plunging ahead was the best option. "So, I'm wolfen. ...I can change into a wolf and into a human at will. I didn't get the ability to change into a human until I was a little over 1 year old but I've always preferred it. Kind of weird for my kind so I guess that's why I never felt like I really fit in."

He watched her face but it was hard to read, his heart pounding as he continued to talk. "When I was 8, I started running with the Hund," he shrugged and rolled his eyes. "There's not many options for a Silverthorn wolfen. The Hund is so big and encompasses so much, you can get in early and climb the ladder high enough to settle down and retire off the living you could make. If you live. Because of the criminal aspect, members often die young.

"I don't know why I was dissatisfied," Phillipe said with a shake of his head. "Everything just felt the same, all the time. I was still young so not very high on the totem pole and not very talented but my mother was proud and I had prospects for a pretty lucrative life. I just didn't want to keep doing it over and over. So, I ran away when I was 14. I worked as an extra hand on a farm in the outskirts of Richmond. They run sheep as well on that side of the woods. But....full moon would come and I'd lose control and change at night without meaning to. Entire rest of the time, I was fine but that one night when the moon was at its fullest... I kept killing some of their sheep every month."

Phillipe looked down at his hands, somber as he remembered the shame he experienced during that young time in his life. "I didn't want to hurt them, these people who had become a second family basically," he said. "So, I went back to the woods and tried again for a while. I thought being a wolf was all I was good for but still, I couldn't get into it. I just wanted to be human. So I left again, got a job as a footman for Lord Leighton's family when I was about 17."

He pressed his lips together in a grim smile. "I almost left," he continued. "They weren't nice to me--well, I mean, they still don't respect me very much--but I thought I might try to run away to London or Paris or somewhere. A city where I didn't have to worry about wolf-things and I'd have more options." Smiling fondly at the memory he said, "Then I met this girl. Hair red like ripe oranges, eyes like roasted honey, and skin dappled like the finishing touches of coffee and chocolate powder sprinkled on a cream-topped tiramisu.

"I didn't even want to go to Schafedorf that day," he said with a small grin. "But the cook told me that was where she wanted me to buy her vegetables from. Anyway, I decided to stay...to save up my money....to ask this girl to marry me someday...once I had enough to rent us a house or buy a small piece of land." 23 years old now, Phillipe was a little chagrined that it'd taken him so long to save his money and he still was a good chunk away from being able to buy or rent a place but at the very least they could take up her father's farm and put energy into rebuilding it. After all, he'd need a new livelihood.

Shrugging with his hands and smiling at her, he said, "I think that's it. You're pretty much up to speed now."

It was obvious to her that he was reluctant to broach the topic of his origins, but Ada unapologetically waited for him to explain. She didn't want to force him, but what was the point of waiting now? After he'd revealed his true form anyway? While she wasn't frightened of him now, she knew that she would have reacted much differently if she hadn't come to the Silverthorn first, if she hadn't seen what she'd seen beforehand.

Of course it was still incredibly strange to her that he was not entirely human. As she looked at him now, kissed him now, he was the man she'd always known. But what of when he was a wolf? How was she supposed to act then? In her mind the two forms had not yet become merged into the concept of one being, for even though Phillipe was both man and wolf, she separated them far from each other: one was the man she'd come to love, the other was something she wasn't sure how to trust.

Ada thanked him quietly as he handed her the spoon. Just as the meal began to bubble, she pulled the pot from over the fire and set it down upon the damp earth. The moisture in the soil crackled upon contact, but quieted soon after. As he spoke, she ate gingerly, not wanting to burn her tongue on the molten stew. She broke them some break after a few minutes, and though her hands were busy her eyes were always upon him.

There was a nostalgic sadness to his tale that could be seen behind his smile. The Hund, the Silverthorn, his mother - he'd left them all behind. Ada knew how difficult it was to leave the only thing you've ever known; she still hadn't left home, even in all of her misery. Her heartbeat hastened at his mention of her, at his description of the first time he'd seen her. She wished she could still remember that day, but much of her memory around that time was clouded. Her life had become very low after the death of her mother, but it wasn't until her teenage years that she started to yearn an escape.

But although she didn't remember meeting him and although she didn't fall in love at first sight, he'd become her escape. It had just taken her a while to accept that.

Once he was finished Ada sat quietly, rolling his words around her head for a few moments. "I can't tell you that I really understand all of this," she finally said, speaking slowly and choosing her words with great care, "and my mind needs a little longer to accept everything. Up until now the only wolfen I've met are people I don't know and I've tried not to think much about it all, though obviously that's not an option anymore. It isn't every day you see your friend become a wolf." She leaned upon him, her shoulder brushing his arm, her head falling upon his shoulder. "I'm sorry for making your life difficult. Seems to be my specialty."

That's right. She had brought him back to the place of his birth. She had, rather selfishly, asked him to help her knowing that he wouldn't refuse. It must've been hard for him to be here, to be seeing all of these things from an older set of eyes. A sign escaping her, Ada stood to collect the moleskin. After taking a swig of water, she returned to stand at Phillipe's side, holding out for him to take. "We should really be getting to bed," she groaned. "After today I think I could hibernate."