It would have been simple to head back home. But it would've meant returning to the quiet. It would've meant being alone again with the mundane routine of tending to the property, preparing meals, hauling water from the well, and hunting every few days.

Now, Corbin was experiencing life, even if it was dangerous.

Walking along the highway with his thumb sticking out, he could hear his grandfather's voice carrying with the warm breeze about how the foolish always found themselves fooled. Maybe he was a fool for not turning back? Only time would tell.

With the sun's heat wrapping him like a poncho and the hangover from the rum in full swing, he almost didn't hear the blood-curdling scream—but the second time he did. Shielding his eyes, he scanned the vast desert landscape, and there at the end of a narrow dirt path that snaked away from the highway, was a home surrounded by cacti. A faded barn sat farther back, with a fence keeping the livestock from running off. He squinted his eyes, trying to see more clearly, but failed to see anyone.

"It's none of your business anyway," he murmured, but the distant voice cried, pausing him in his tracks.

"Help! Someone. Please!"

Looking up at the sky, he inhaled and exhaled slowly, then threw his hands in the air. "I know, old man, I know!"

This time a young girl ran from the barn with a pale look of terror, expanding her eyes like ink drops in water. Despite Romie's words playing in his head, he knew the right thing to do. He patted his pants pocket, feeling the farmer's pistol, and began cutting across the dusty terrain towards the young girl. When she spotted him, she came to a skidding halt.

Corbin raised his hands slowly. "I can help you."

"How do I know you're not one of them?"

"One of who?"

"The men who have my mom!" She lifted her thin arm and pointed while hiccuping back sobs.

"I swear to you on my family, may God rest their souls, I am not with them."

The young girl narrowed her eyes at him, but then wiped her cheeks. "They have her in the barn. Hurry!"

"Ok. Find somewhere to hide."

While running towards the weathered red building, he checked the pistol and saw only two bullets left. When he got there, he took deep breaths to calm the rapid beats in his chest and peeked through the sliver of space between the doors. However, what he saw had his fingers gripping the gun like teeth on a bear trap.

He slid the gun barrel through the crack and fired at the man whose back was to him. The two men pinning the woman down, skittered to their feet as he kicked the doors open and charged. He fired the last bullet at the second man, but got tackled by the third assailant. Their bodies hit the ground with a thud, creating a cloud of hay to shoot up and float back down, covering them. A sharp gasp expelled Corbin's lungs while the man on top of him punched his face as if he were kneading dough. Corbin bucked and kicked without progress as his grandfather's words repeated in his head about the foolish, always finding themselves fooled.

When his attacker's face began fading to black, he spotted the woman above them with a pitchfork in hand and determination webbing her bloodshot, deep-set eyes.

And then all was dark.

◇◇◇

"I think he's waking up, Mommy..."

"Get the bourbon. He'll need it for the pain!"

Something cold pressed against Corbin's face, forcing his eyes to flutter before closing again.

"Can you hear me?"

"Where..." Corbin croaked as the cold returned to his face. This time he blinked slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the environment and land on the woman. Her pin-straight black hair fell forward around her slender shoulders as she leaned in to touch his forehead. Everything was fuzzy, and his mouth cotton as he licked his lips. He tried raising his hand, but it only flopped back down. "Where... am."

"Shhh. Save your energy."

The drumming of feet returned, so he tried sitting up, but then everything went black again.

◇◇◇

When Corbin finally opened his eyes completely, the room was dim with the sunset filtering through the window like a prism. This time, a man stood over him with folded arms.

"My wife says you killed the intruders in the barn."

"I..."

"And you just happened to be walking by?" He cocked his bushy brow. "My home isn't close to the highway, so either you were trespassing, or you're fixing to rob us while we sleep."

"Stanley, if it wasn't for him, who knows what would've happened to us."

The man didn't acknowledge what the woman said but instead continued scrutinizing Corbin while rubbing the white beard covering his chin. If Corbin had to guess, the woman was around forty years old, and the man was at least twenty years older. The young girl squeezed past her mother and took the man's elbow.

"He saved us, Daddy."

The man's eyes shifted ever so slightly to the girl and then went back to Corbin. "You can spend the night, as a way of thank you, but I want you gone in the morning."

The woman gave a half-smile as her husband and daughter left the room. "He's had a long day. I'm Ingrid, by the way, and that was our daughter Isabelle." She paused, then said quietly, "Thank you for helping us. I don't know what those men would have done to Isabelle if-"

She cut herself short, slapping her hand to her mouth as if she couldn't stomach the thought of what would have happened.

"Are you ok?"

"Me?" Her eyes darted to him.

"Yes, you."

Ingrid shook her head and gave a dismissive wave. "Isabelle is safe, thanks to you, and that's all that matters. Now please, if you're up for it, I've made supper, and I would love for you to join us."

"I'd like that."

"Good. See you in a bit." With a slight bow, Ingrid left the doorway and headed down stairs.

Despite wanting to continue sleeping, Corbin couldn't ignore the gurgling in his stomach or the delicious scent of whatever Ingrid made. With a grunt, he rolled to his feet and slowly made his way down.

It was the first proper meal he'd eaten since leaving home. Yet, he couldn't even enjoy it as Stanley, and his younger brother Judah periodically threw him harpoon-like glances. The only thing helping him through the meal was the friendly smiles from Ingrid and Isabelle across the table.

"Would you like more, Corbin?" Ingrid offered while rising from her seat, but Stanley's hand whipped her arm, creating a hard smack that froze Isabelle mid-chew.

"We never serve ourselves second helpings. Otherwise, there won't be enough for tomorrow. You know that."

"Yes, you're right." She shook her head, trying to smile it off.

"It's ok. I'm feeling pretty full, so thank you." Corbin patted his belly.

"I reckon we should all turn in for the night," Stanley announced, his eyes pinned on Corbin. "Boy, just know that I keep a shotgun by the bed, so don't get any foolish ideas."

"I don't mean your family any harm, Sir."

"Good," he replied and retreated to the front porch with Judah, where the two men took a seat on rocking chairs, a rifle in hand as if keeping watch like security guards.

Next to Corbin, Ingrid's slow exhale drew his attention. Her knuckles were pressed into the table, her head bowed, with eyes searching the checkered tablecloth. Then as if snapping out of it, she began clearing the plates.

"I'll help you," Corbin got to his feet.

"No." Ingrid shook her head. "I've got this. Go rest so you're well enough for the road tomorrow."

"I am feeling tired," he sigh.

"Isabelle, please help Corbin up the stairs and then come right back to help me wash the dishes. Don't dilly dally."

As a grinning Isabelle hooked an arm around his waist, Corbin glanced over his shoulder at the porch to see if Stanley was watching. The last thing he wanted was for the man to disapprove and get upset. Except, it wasn't Stanley staring into the house, it was Judah, and he wasn't looking at him. Instead, Judah's line of sight was on Ingrid. His eyes followed her as she walked back and forth from the table to the sink, but he turned away when he caught Corbin watching him.

When they got to the room, Isabelle helped ease Corbin onto the bed, and when he bent over in an attempt to remove his boots, he winced.

"I'll help you!" Isabelle kneeled.

"No, no, I've got it." He shook his hands. "Besides, your mother said not to dilly dally."

"It's ok." Isabelle grinned as she yanked his boots off.

"Whoa, easy!" He winced again.

"Sorry..."

"It's ok, but you should go now. I don't want your mother or your father getting upset."

"Mommy won't get upset," she replied while positioning his boots neatly by the bed.

"But your dad will?"

"Daddy isn't always mean."

Corbin's abdomen tighten at her words. Just as he suspected, Stanley wasn't a kind man to his family. "Are you scared of him?"

"No." She shook her head rapidly, and then her eyes drifted to the open doorway. In a whisper, she added, "Except for when he yells at Mommy really loud, but that's only when he drinks a lot. Don't tell Mommy that I told you."

"Isabelle..." He lifted her chin towards him. "Are you and your mom safe here?"

"Of course. Daddy does whatever it takes to protect us."

"But you said-"

"I have to go now. Goodnight, Corbin." Isabelle got to her feet and closed the door behind her.

As he stretched out on the bed, he found himself quickly dozing. In the middle of the night, however, he woke with sweat drenching his hair and neck. He kicked off the quilt covering him and ran a hand over his face. Either his eyelids and lips were stuffed with cotton, or they really were that swollen. He brought his fingers to his lips, gently this time, and traced them over the bruises.

"Yep, that's going to leave a mark."

Through the window in the dark room, the sky looked crystal with the bright moon shining like a beacon over the desert. Closing his eyes, Corbin tried going back to sleep by listening for the crickets, except he couldn't hear their lullaby. What he heard instead was murmuring as if somewhere in the house people were talking. He usually wasn't one to stick his nose where it didn't belong, but his grandfather's words returned to him again, and it forced him to his feet.

Easing out of the room, he tiptoed the hallway, trying his best not to let the floorboard creek. He pressed himself against the wall as he got to the stairs and listened for the voices.

"I need you and Isabelle to stay out of the way. Am I understood?"

"But, Stanley..."

"Ingrid! Judah should be back any minute now with The Hounds, so I need you and the girl to stay out of the way."

"How can you be so sure he's a Witcher?"

"Don't play dumb. You saw those dowsing rods when I searched through his things. Normal people don't go walking around with those unless they know how to use them."

All of Corbin's blood sank to his feet, anchoring him with its weight as he stood there feeling like a fool.

"He helped us, Stanley. Please, don't do this."

"Ingrid. We can get a thousand dollars for him. That kind of money could do us a lot of good around here, so this isn't a discussion."

"This isn't right."

"Ingrid, when it comes to protecting this family, keeping a roof over our heads, and putting food in our bellies, there is no right or wrong. I'll do whatever it takes. Am I understood? Now listen to me, The Hounds are coming, so get the girl and stay out of sight!"

At the sound of Ingrid's bare feet coming up the stairs, Corbin tiptoed back to the room, but he wasn't fast enough. Ingrid paused midway, her eyes widening. She pressed her index finger to her lips as she continued to climb the stairs and Corbin slipped inside the room with Ingrid joining him as she closed the door behind her.

"You must leave," she whispered.

"So this is the thanks I get for helping you?" he shoved his boots on.

"I'm sorry, and I will forever be grateful for what you did."

"Right. Mhm, sure you are."

"I am."

Corbin ignored her as he slipped his arm through the strap of his bag and then glanced around while patting his pockets. Upon doing so, flashes of light caught his attention. Ingrid pressed her face against the window, and they watched as a caravan of horse riders and trucks made their way up the path towards the home.

"Oh, Jesus... You have to go now," Ingrid whispered.

"How?"

Ingrid grabbed him by the shoulders, her eyes filling with tears of apology. "Isabelle's room. Her window faces the mountains. We have to hurry."

She turned to exit the room, but Corbin grabbed her arm. "Wait, what about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you safe here?"

"With Stanley?" Ingrid chuckled softly. "He's old and will probably die soon. God willing."

"And his brother?"

"Not your concern. Now come on, we have to hurry!"

They both tiptoed across the hallway and into Isabelle's room in a matter of seconds. As Corbin shut the door behind him, Ingrid went straight for the window. She paused when it made a screeching noise, which caused Isabelle to stir in her sleep. They both froze when she rolled to her side, but her soft breathing returned as she fell back to sleep. Not wanting to wake her, he crossed the room in long quick strides and climbed through.

Clinging to the gutter, he said, "Thanks, Ingrid. For what it's worth, I appreciate what you've done for me."

"Take care of yourself. I'll never forget your kindness," she whispered, shutting the window on him.

And just like that, he was back to being alone as the frigid desert night wove its gnarled fingers through his long-johns while he ran from the home without looking back.

His mind was made up. He wasn't going to help anyone anymore.

***
Thanks so much for reading, voting, or commenting. Your support means a lot. ♡

P.S. I love LOVE how Glen Hansard goes bananas towards the middle of the song. Lol