It can’t have been more than two hours since Nikko and I set out on our Hunt, but there is a lantern waiting for our return on the front porch when we break the tree line that surrounds the cabin. The flickering light of the flame is all that we can see in the pitch darkness, though the goats mewel at our return sleepily as we pass by their corral as if the stench of them wasn’t enough to alert me of their presence. 

My head throbs so excessively that it’s hard for me to see straight, making the lantern seem to split into two different flames as we near the porch. Even in my slightly disoriented state, I can feel the presence of someone waiting beside the door without needing to see them, seamlessly cloaked in the shadows as they sit in silence. I sigh at the brooding silence, knowing that he is waiting for an explanation as though we are children out past our curfew. 

“Welcome back,” I say, fighting the urge to grimace at my own voice. Though the bleeding has stopped, my nose is still swollen. 

Nikko drops the head onto the wooden planks beneath our feet in an offering. It lands with a loud thud against the porch, accompanied by a sickening sound as the raw stump of the neck rolls with it. He had been kind enough to carry it the entire way back without complaint, though he had to use both hands to bear the weight for so long. As soon as his arms are free, he places a hand over his broken rib with a scowl. “I assume Griffen relayed the message of where we went,” He mutters, turning to glance over at me with the light of the lantern illuminating my appearance. He winces in sympathy despite his best efforts at what he finds before turning back to Kaisen. “Just think, Kai was going to Hunt it by herself earlier but I managed to talk her out of it.”

Kaisan’s eyes catch the flickering light as he rises to his feet, the boards creaking beneath his weight in protest. He takes up the entirety of the doorway behind him as he stands to his full height, holding out the lantern farther to take us in. “It’s good of you to watch out for each other. She could have taken it though, Nikko,” His familiar baritone is a deep rumble even with his lowered tone. 

I scowl at Nikko for telling his lie to paint me as irresponsible, but I’m too tired to bother correcting him. I’m just grateful to be in one piece and that Kaisen is home safely. It would have been a shit storm if he had found the Lycan before we could, as we would never hear the end of it. My mouth is crusted with dried blood that tugs at my lip when I speak. “A Lycan without a Witch is cause for concern,” I say what we have all been thinking, the gravity weighing heavier than the Lycanthrope’s head at my feet. “There was no sign of a Tag on it.” 

Whenever a Lycanthrope is contracted as a Familiar or Henchman for a Witch, there will be some sort of identifying marker to display her power over the beast, like a brand on cattle. Though there was no such mark on our dead monster, it is rather strange that it suddenly appeared on the property of four Hunters at random. What’s even more strange is that it didn’t seem inclined to attack us while we slept, though it would have been an easy kill. The question has been bothering me the entire time, though my face hurt too much for a casual discussion with Nik. It still does, but Kaisen will not allow us inside until we report our findings. 

Kaisen takes in the report, his dark eyes flashing in the lantern light as they flicker between Nik and me, taking his time to form a response. I know that a dozen thoughts are forming at once in his mind as he forms the most likely cause for the Lycan’s appearance, though he won’t voice any of them aloud until he knows for certain. After a long moment, he steps aside and gestures for us to follow him in. "That's a lot of missing goats," he determines as the floor creaks beneath our entry, making a gruff sound in his throat. 

"I know. I take responsibility for that," I make for the bathroom immediately as Kaisen takes up his place in front of the fireplace, the worn leather chair sighing beneath his weight. Now that his face is well illuminated by the fire, I can see just how exhausted he looks.

"You were both on duty. You will split the accountability," Kaisen says, tossing a pointed look towards Nik at his silence.

 Three prominent scars pucker against Kaisen's cheek and ear, narrowly missing his eye as the marks disappear into his salt-and-pepper hairline. No new injuries seem to be present on his weather-beaten body, luckily. As soon as I clear him of injury I disappear into the restroom, leaving the door ajar to continue the discussion as I clean my face. 

I wince as I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, hardly able to recognize myself. I splash water onto my face and gently scrub the crusted blood and dirt from my skin with a washcloth. My cerulean eyes, usually clear and alert, seem dull and distant even to me as I give my injuries a once over. The delicate arch of my nose is marred with a deep gash where the skin split on contact with the Lycan’s head, the source of the majority of the blood that now collects in the basin of the sink. Bruises kiss my cheekbones and brow, the elegant features of my lineage painted with painful protrusion of my injuries. I don’t mind the swelling, which makes me seem a bit less feminine than usual, slightly disfiguring my features. My reflection looks less like a reminder now than it usually does, which I welcome. It’s bad enough that I have her eyes. 

I dispose of the soiled rag and rejoin the conversation in the living space, taking up the empty chair beside Kaisen. I’ve been able to catch snippets of their bickering over the sound of the faucet, which has consisted of hushed whispers about what the Lycan was doing here, to begin with.

 “It’s possible that it was just a Rogue,” I interject with the hopes of quelling the concern in their voices. “It isn’t as though it has never happened before.” Kaisen indeed hunted down a Lycanthrope that was seen terrorizing a town a few days' ride from here, which, after a thorough investigation, turned out to be working independently. Though rare, it isn’t unheard of, though it is a bit strange that there have been two of these Rogues dealt with within the past year. It seems as though work is getting closer and closer to home these days. 

Kaisen reaches to scratch the thick beard that clings to his chin, old blood still caked beneath his nails as he regards me with careful contemplation. The firelight flickers in his dark eyes, nearly obsidian in the shadows that creep from behind his chair. His prized battle-ax rests against the arm of the chair, the flawless blades glinting harshly at me in the dim lighting. As usual, the wisdom of a dozen lives seems to reflect at me as I hold his stare, trying to decipher the meaning behind his silence. He seems to be assessing the damage done to me even now, as countless things run through his mind.

 “You had a successful hunt this morning,” He says, taking me off guard with the change of topic. It would seem as though he has no intention of continuing to talk of the Lycan, which I accept begrudgingly. It isn’t as though he has no trust in Nikko or myself, though he tends to become brooding when mysterious things occur. I know that he will figure everything out on his own from here, and this is his way of excusing us from the weight of the topic. 

"Yes, I did," I glare at him from my place beside him, ungrateful to be exiled from the conversation. "There will be plenty to sustain the three of you in my absence." 

Nikko shares a look with me that expresses his own stubborn annoyance across from me before turning silently to pick grime from beneath his nails with one of the spikes on his mace. "You still plan to go, looking the way you do?" 

We both know better than to argue with Kaisen’s decision to freeze us out. Neither of us can handle a Witch hunt yet, anyway, so there is no sense in trying to get caught up in one. If there is a Witch nearby that the Lycan was drawn to, then Kaisen will have to handle it on his own. He is the only one capable of taking one down. 

Witches are notorious for being capable of destruction and chaos unlike anything any of the creatures that Nikko and I can handle. Some people believe that they cannot even be killed, though I don’t consider myself gullible enough to believe that anything is truly immortal. The common folk believe that even the word can bring evil upon their homes and lives as if such a spell could be so easily cast. Little do they know, many Witches do not look any different than any of them, and often take up residency within their towns and churches without a problem. 

I fold my arms over my chest, sitting straight in my chair. The firelight makes my head pound even harder than before and I have to force my eyelids to remain open against the tiny demons shredding my brain with their sharp claws. It would take a miracle for the splitting ache to disappear by dawn, which I know better than to hope for. "Why wouldn't I? It's not as though the job is a beauty pageant. I can still swing a sword," I say, eyes drifting to my weapon that lays on top of a small table beside the door. I can remember when Kaisen first gave the sword to me when I stood hardly any higher than the blade. It's a men's weapon, meant to be wielded by someone stronger than an eleven-year-old girl. Over time, the weight of the hilt has become a part of me, leaving my calloused palms feeling empty without it. 

"If it were, Kaisen would send me instead," Nikko jokes, a toothy grin exposing blood in his teeth. He lifts his chin in a regal manner, allowing his profile to be illuminated by the flickering light. Nik is indeed handsome, though I haven't had many young men to compare him to as of late. His nose has been broken a few too many times to be straight, though the bump that formed on the bridge, as a result, suits the rest of his face. He is much more rugged than my brothers were, though I can hardly envision Nik wearing silk tunics and royal sashes. No, his dark eyes are more suited to the shadows and greenery of the forest, built to blend in. 

I snort at the thought, wincing at the irritation it causes my injuries. "It would suit me if it scarred," I say, jutting my chin out defiantly. My appearance is not usually something discussed, if only because the others know the discomfort it brings me. I would have been happier looking like the hags of lore that commonfolk believe Witches appear as. 

Kaisen regards me with a thoughtful reproach, accessing the damage of my face. His calloused fingers pick aimlessly at a loose thread on the arm of his chair. Like everything else in the cabin, the furnishings are old and threadbare, the wood cracked with age. The walls have managed to hold up throughout the years at least, and the thatch of the roof only leaks in heavy rain. Something about the warmth of the fireplace that easily sustains the entirety of the shack and the familiar scent of soggy wood feels more like a home than a palace ever did. The people with whom I share the roof have come to be more than mere co-workers to me, too, which adds to the welcoming atmosphere. 

Kaisen makes a sound in his throat, though I can't decide if it's in agreement or contrary to my statement. "Get some rest. I will pack you a bag and see you out in the morning."