A barrage of befuddling smells welcomed William into Dr. Hughes's practice. Dried herbs hung above rows of glass jars filled with all manner of ointments and tinctures. A mortar and pestle still bore the crushed remains of the latest remedy he'd mixed together, and a leather-bound journal documented his labor in messy handwriting William doubted he could decipher even if he could read more than the Book of the Lord.

Amidst all the remedies, Dr. Hughes sat polishing a glass jar. "Come in, dear boy! I promise I shan't keep you long."

William sank into the chair across from him, crossing his arms to keep his hands from shaking. Why had he agreed to this? Father would have his hide for encouraging the doctor to speak to him, let alone agreeing to talk to him alone.

If it weren't for the rats, he'd run to the forge, leaving the doctor and his tendency to ask uncomfortable questions behind. Alas, that was not an option. Not when Dr. Hughes was the only other person in all of Hamelin who thought something was wrong with the children.

Dr. Hughes set aside the jar he'd been cleaning and rummaged around his workspace until he pulled out one of many journals. "Thank you for agreeing to visit me today. I imagine it can't be easy to step away from your duties at the forge."

"I'm sure Father will manage fine without me for a little while." Although he would surely show his displeasure once William returned to work. His back throbbed with the memory of the last time he'd incurred his father's wrath.

"Be that as it may, I still appreciate you coming." Dr. Hughes selected one of the many quills resting on the table and tested it on the journal. Finding the ink flowed satisfactorily, he nodded and returned his gaze to William, setting his lips in a firm line. "I'm sure you're aware that the parents I've spoken to have been alarmed by your recent behavior. After what happened with Peter, many of them are concerned you might pose a danger to the children."

"I know," William said softly. Though he'd acted in self-defense, the feeling of his elbow sinking into Peter's flesh haunted his nightmares as surely as the children pinning him to the ground.

"In my experience, things are seldom as they initially appear to be, especially from an outside perspective." Dr. Hughes tapped his quill against the page. "Now, tell me what led you to lash out at Peter like that. You've always been a gentle lad, so I suspect you didn't do so for no reason."

William told him how the children had attacked him and pinned him to the ground, forcing him to fight to escape and strike Peter to prevent him from hurting him again. He didn't say a word about the rats or the Hymn of the Whole—he couldn't unless he wanted to be hauled off to the nearest asylum—but he told him every other detail about what had happened.

"So something about the song you were playing upset them?" Dr. Hughes jotted down a note. "Children can be blunt when they don't enjoy something. Lord knows I certainly wasn't shy about not wanting to join my father in his workshop when I was your sister's age. But to react so strongly..." He fidgeted with his quill, running his fingers up and down the dark gray plumage. "Are you sure nothing else might have startled them? An errant animal, perhaps?"

"I know it's hard to believe, but I swear on the Lord's name that I'm telling the truth." Just not all of it.

"May I please see where the children harmed you? Regardless of how they happened, I would be remiss not to care for any injuries you may have."

William rolled up his sleeves and removed his boots. Crescent-shaped indentations marred his skin where the children's nails had sunk into him, and lingering purple bruises betrayed the ferocity of their attack.

Dr. Hughes took his wrist in his hand, turning it this way and that as he muttered to himself. "Different sizes, so more than one pair of hands did this. Forcefully, too, judging from the coloration. Based on the varied locations on your arm, these were not the result of panic but of something more deliberate."

William winced as the doctor's thumb brushed a particularly tender bruise just below his wrist.

The man pulled back swiftly. "Apologies, it is difficult to examine someone painlessly when so much of a limb has been harmed."

"It's alright. I've dealt with worse." Besides, the relief of knowing someone, anyone realized he hadn't acted without reason far outweighed any pain the doctor could cause.

Dr. Hughes clicked his tongue. "More's the pity. Though I expect your work in the forge is far from easy, it pains me that anyone your age would have to be accustomed to something so unpleasant."

William fidgeted in his seat. Something in the doctor's expression told him he was not merely referring to the labor he performed as his father's apprentice. "It's not so bad."

"Perhaps, but I would hardly call it good." With his examination of William's arms and legs complete, Dr. Hughes added his observations to his journal. At least, that's what William assumed he was writing. He could scarcely decipher a word aside from his name. "Would it be alright for me to have a look at your back as well? From what you said, it would not surprise me if the children caused some damage when they knocked you to the ground."

"I..." William's tongue refused to move. He ought to refuse, to tend to the injuries his father had caused alone, as he always had. But Dr. Hughes had shown him greater kindness than he had expected. More than he deserved.

The doctor's eyes softened. "I will not take offense if you say no. You are well within your right to refuse, though I promise I will help you as best I can."

William opened and closed his mouth. At last, he forced the words past his lips before his better judgment could persuade him otherwise. "Alright. One moment."

The cool air kissed William's back as he peeled his tunic over his head. He seldom let anyone see him like this. So vulnerable, so exposed. Only the eyes of the Lord had ever witnessed the full extent of the marks his father had left on his body, yet here he was laying his scars bare to someone his father detested.

A shuddering intake of breath told him all he needed to know about what Dr. Hughes thought of his injuries. "I need to see which of these are completely fresh and which have torn old scar tissue. I'll do my best to be gentle, but tell me if any of this hurts."

William nodded.

Nimble fingers gently probed the raised ridges running across his back in darkened streaks. Years of bearing Father's belt had left his skin tough and worn, yet neither his body nor his soul remained free from pain. His traitorous mouth winced each time Dr. Hughes drew too close to the scabbed-over indentations the belt buckle had branded him with, the fresh injuries still swollen and tender.

"Worse than I thought," Dr. Hughes muttered as he ran his fingers down a particularly long scar slanting from below William's shoulder all the way to his lower back. He returned to his desk, rummaging through his supplies until he came away with a jar filled with a thick, clear mixture.

"Hold still," Dr. Hughes said as he scooped a dollop of ointment onto his fingers. "This will sting, but it will aid the healing process."

William gritted his teeth as Dr. Hughes slathered the medicine across his back. Every inch of his injuries burned until the pain faded to a dull warmth that left his muscles feeling relaxed and loose.

Aside from muttered apologies each time a wince passed William's lips, Dr. Hughes didn't utter a word. Not when he finished applying the ointment. Not when he resealed the jar and slipped it into William's satchel despite his patient's protests. Not when he made his way back to his desk to write down his observations while William put his tunic back on.

William's stomach churned with shame. Dr. Hughes would think much less of him now. After all, whose father would treat their own son as his did unless they truly deserved it?

At last, Dr. Hughes cleared his throat. He opened his mouth as if to speak, only to close it again. With a long, weary sigh, the doctor pulled out a bottle filled with dark brown liquid and poured himself a glass. "Would you like some, too? I'm afraid I'm going to need something to fortify me before we discuss exactly what happened to you."

"No, thanks. I need to make sure my hands are steady when I join Father at the forge." William doubted he'd be able to hold the liquor down anyway, especially with the subject of their conversation making his stomach feel as if he'd swallowed molten iron.

"Very well." Dr. Hughes took a long sip. "It seems to me that the children aren't the only ones who have harmed you."

William longed to deny it, to insist that any other injuries he had were merely caused by his work as a blacksmith's apprentice. But his tongue refused to deny the doctor's claim. He nodded.

"I feared as much." Another sip. "I know the signs all too well. You have always been a careful child, your footsteps so silent I've seen you startle even those who knew you were coming. I shall not force you to tell me who hurt you, but please know that I am willing to listen."

William cast his gaze to his boots. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't find its way back to Father. One way or another, he would find out, and he or, worse, Emma and Mother would pay the price.

"There are ways to escape such mistreatment, though none are easy." Dr. Hughes swirled his glass, watching the alcohol circle the bottom before settling into stillness once more. "Budding tradesmen such as yourself are always in high demand."

"I'm a lousy blacksmith." Or so Father had always told him using far harsher words.

"Perhaps, or perhaps not. Even if that is true, you could always travel from town to town as a minstrel until you settle somewhere that properly appreciates you and your music."

That idea appealed to William far more than he would like to admit. Were he to leave Hamelin, he would have everything he wanted. Freedom. Safety. Happiness.

Yet, the smile that graced his lips lingered for only a moment. Shame twisted inside his stomach, made twice as powerful by the bitterness in his voice. "I can't leave Mother and Emma behind."

"I thought as much." Dr. Hughes offered him a sad smile. "The ointment I put in your satchel is yours to keep free of charge, and I will supply you with more if—" He swallowed, his eyes blinking rapidly. "If the need arises."

"Thank you, Doctor." William bowed his head, praying Dr. Hughes couldn't see the tears prickling his eyes. He moved to take a fistful of coppers from his satchel, but Dr. Hughes held up a hand.

"No need to worry about that."

"But—"

"I don't need your money. Simply knowing you are caring for yourself as best you can is payment enough." Dr. Hughes took a deep breath. "Although I do have one thing to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"If anything... happens to your mother or your sister or if things grow worse for you, promise me you will act." The doctor's voice broke as he dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief. "Promise me you won't wait until it's too late to save them or yourself."

William's throat tightened, allowing him only a hoarse whisper. "I promise."