It was close to midnight when they made it to their destination where dense forest surrounded the home, hidden from any path or highway high in the mountains. Not even the moonlight shimmered through the leaves, which forced Archibald to rely on memory as he guided them. They spent several hours walking, and despite the chill in the air, Corbin could wring the sweat from his shirt.

"You three wait here," Archibald said. "My friend isn't expecting us, so it's best to approach this favor wisely."

He made his way up the brick path, and they watched him lift his hand to knock, the sound ricocheting off the trees. Crickets filled the air with chirps colliding against the rustling of pine needles, and there wasn't anyone for miles, yet the percussions in the night were like eyes spying on their movements. A chill zig-zagged up Corbin's spine when the door opened, giving him hope of being inside its warmth.

The porch light flicked on, illuminating Archibald, but it only cast shadows across the other person. He twisted at the waist while motioning behind him, and the person stepped out to look in their direction. Underneath the light, they became clearer as Corbin squinted his eyes to have a better look. The tan skin, dark eyes, crew cut, and stocky yet muscular build caused his brows to fly to his hairline. He knew this man!

Gravity pulled him forward, with legs auto-piloting him up the pathway. At first, the man seemed puzzled, but recognition bloomed across his face with eyes going wide, and he bounded down the steps.

"Corbin?!"

"Gunner!"

Their bodies collided as they embraced, with Gunner lifting Corbin a few feet off the ground, spinning him. After a few twirls, he set him down to get a good look at him.

"You're all grown up!"

"I could say the same about you." Corbin grinned.

"Hold on a second..." Archibald approached them. "You know one another?"

"Unfortunately," Corbin laughed.

"I've known Corbin since he was a teenager, but Clara has known him even longer. She and her brother Coyote used to visit Corbin's folks. His grandfather helped Clara hone her water witching skills."

"My father and Coyote were once best friends," Corbin added.

"And they're not anymore?" Archibald asked.

"My parents passed away when I was a little boy."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. It was a long time ago, and I had my grandfather to look after me."

"But what an amazing reunion this is!" Gunner exclaimed as he hooked an arm around Corbin's shoulders and squeezed. "Clara is going to flip when she sees you!"

"So, you'll let all four of us spend the night then?" Archibald asked.

"Of course. Mi casa es su casa," Gunner replied. "Now come on, I want to hear about how the four of you got together."

∆∆∆

It was dead silent as all five of them sat in the living room with the information sinking in. The fireplace's wood logs snapped, with orange sparks shooting upwards like confetti, and the clock on the mantle chimed as the hands struck midnight.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Gunner exclaimed.

"I wish I was."

"Archibald, what the hell were you thinking bringing him here!?"

"I thought this would be the safest place to rest."

"Well, I've changed my mind!" Gunner abandoned his rocking chair, and the momentum caused it to sway.

"That's funny. A few minutes ago, you were delighted to welcome us into your home," Jasper said.

"That was before I knew about Hounds tracking you!"

"To be fair, they're tracking Corbin. Not us," Jasper replied.

"I don't care who they're tracking. I care that you came here, and now my wife is in danger!" Gunner turned his attention to Archibald again. "Did you not stop to think how it wouldn't be safe bringing a witcher, on the lamb, to another witcher's house?"

"What's going on down there?" Gunner's wife, Clara, shouted from upstairs.

His eyes shifted to the ceiling as he answered, "Nothing, Babe. Just go back to sleep."

"Look, I'm sorry, I am, but—" Archibald paused at the sound of feet drumming down the stairs. Clara was fastening the tie on her robe, her long and wavy ash blonde hair in her face as she descended with determined steps.

"Don't you tell me to go back to bed, Miguel!" She froze when she glanced up, her eyes searching the faces in her living room. "What's going on?"

"They were just leaving," Gunner replied.

"Wait, is that who I think it is?" Clara rushed forward, sidestepping the dining room table, and ran to Corbin. With a squeal, she threw her arms around him and rocked side to side. "I can't believe you're here!"

"I can't either," Corbin laughed.

"What are you doing here?" She stepped back and held his face.

"It's a long story."

"And I want to hear about it!" She gave him another squeeze and turned to address everyone. "Tomorrow night, we're celebrating Miguel's parents' anniversary, so you HAVE to stay with us at least one more night."

"Clara," Gunner barked, causing her brows to smash together.

"What's with the tone?"

"They're not staying here."

"Why not? Why else did they come?" She motioned to them.

"Corbin is being tracked by Hounds."

"Oh..." Clara's face fell, along with her shoulders.

"So now do you understand why they can't stay?"

"Miguel." Clara shook her head and linked her arm through Corbin's. "We can't turn him away."

"Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't, but The Hounds are after him."

She inhaled a sharp breath. "Can I talk to you in private? NOW."

Angry murmurs floated from the kitchen to the living room like a breeze as Corbin sat back, waiting. As he tried to remain awake, he glanced around the small but cozy home with its dark wood floors, brick chimney, and exposed wood beams along the ceiling—It made his house look like a plywood shack. Archibald was dozing off in a rocking chair across from him while Luna browsed through a basket full of knitting supplies. Jasper sat on the edge of the coffee table where candles glowed, making the room smell like a hint of cinnamon. Feeling a chill, Corbin reached for the quilt tossed over the backrest of the worn leather couch.

Right as his eyes began closing, Clara returned from the kitchen with a smile kissing her ears and Gunner trailing behind her, but his expression was not as pleasant.

"I'm guessing you're all tired, so Archibald, Luna, and Jasper follow me to the spare room. Corbin, there's a pullout bed on the couch, and I'll be right back with some linens for you."

"Um..." Archibald shifted the weight on his feet and scratched his temple. "Only if you're both ok with us staying here? I realize I've placed you in an uncomfortable situation, and it wasn't fair, so we can leave."

"Archibald, how long have we known each other? Do you honestly think I'll let you leave after coming all this way seeking refuge? Don't be silly." Clara batted her hands at him.

Archibald glanced at Gunner again, but his hands were in his pockets while looking down at the floor—his jaw clenched. "Alright, but only if you insist."

"I do!" Clara nodded, taking Luna by the arm. "Now, come on."

If there was one thing Corbin learned as a young boy during Clara's visits to his grandfather's home, it was that she always got her way. After a few minutes, she returned with the linens as promised, and together they set up his bed. Then, with her insistence, she tucked him in and planted a kiss on his forehead. It made him feel like a child, but the sweet gesture relaxed him so much that he almost forgot about the dangers out in the world. For the first time since leaving home, he was safe.

∆∆∆

In the morning, Corbin awoke to the scent of coffee, eggs, and chorizo. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, only to draw his head back at the sight of Archibald, Luna, and Jasper doing pushups on the living room floor. Glancing at the clock on the mantle, it was still early. Maybe too early.

"Morning," Archibald grunted as he held himself in a plank position. The three of them rolled onto their backs and began doing sit-ups, in sync with one another. Meanwhile, Corbin watched as they did three sets of twenty sit-ups and then hopped to their feet to do squats.

"Aren't they amazing? I wish I had that kind of discipline," Clara stated as she stood in the kitchen's archway. "Come on, let's get you fed. We've got a big day ahead of us."

"We do?"

"Yep. I need you to help me witch some water for a neighbor," she explained as Corbin trailed behind her. "By the way, my brother is coming. Miguel radioed him last night, so he should be here by tomorrow."

"I'd love to see Coyote, in fact, I was on my way up to go see him, but why did Gunner radio him?"

Clara spooned the egg and chorizo mix onto a plate and handed it to him. "Because we'll need my brother to smuggle you across the Canadian border."

"Ok, but how do I get back to Scotts Valley?"

"You wouldn't."

"Then I don't wanna go to Canada." Corbin shook his head.

"If it comes to that, you won't have a choice," Clara replied. "The border is the only thing that will stop The Hounds."

"But I won't know anyone there."

"You'll adjust," she replied as she handed him a cup of coffee.

"I don't want to adjust. I want to live my life without fearing what's over my shoulder!"

Clara sighed. "That's not the reality for us witchers anymore, but it'll be ok."

"I just want to go home."

"I know." She squeezed his shoulder. "By the way, I tossed your clothes in the washer. They're probably dry by now."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." She smiled and kissed the top of his head before fussing with his hair. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." Corbin glanced down at his coffee, and wrapped both hands around it, absorbing its warmth. "Why did you stop writing letters after my grandfather passed away?"

Clara gave a half frown and tilted her head as she weighed the question. "The news of his death struck me very hard, and every time I sat down to write, I just couldn't find the words. I'm sorry."

"We used to look forward to reading your letters each week, so when he died..." Corbin paused, a knot forming in his throat. "When he died and your letters stopped coming, I felt the magnitude of how alone I was."

"Coyote didn't write to you?"

"Every few months, but it wasn't the same, and he never mentioned that you moved to Nevada. He also doesn't have the same flare you have with telling stories," Corbin said, pulling on a smile.

"And your uncle Domino?"

He sighed. "It's complicated. Things got a little tense the last time I visited."

"Which was when?"

"Five years ago."

"Five years!" Clara exclaimed. "When your grandfather died? And you visited Domino to tell him about it?"

"Yes."

"He didn't keep in touch after that?" she asked, and when Corbin shook his head, she looked away. "Meanwhile, I stopped writing my letters."

"Yes, you did."

"I'm so sorry." Her eyes watered. "I shouldn't have stopped. I should have reached out."

"Listen, don't worry about it. I don't know why I brought it up."

"No, I'm glad you did, and now that you're here, I'll look out for you the way I should've years ago. The only way those Hounds will get to you is over my dead body. Got it?"

"Got it." Corbin nodded and stood from his seat to embrace her.

After breakfast, they set off to visit the neighbors who lived just a few minutes up the mountain. They were an elderly couple whose family lived in the area since the Gold Rush, therefore respected amongst the community. When they opened the door for Clara and greeted her with genuine cheerfulness, Corbin couldn't help but see just how different life was in the mountains.

From what Clara described, she could help her community without the fear of being caught. Unlike the desert, where ruthlessness thrived. Yet, as the leaves rustled in the trees, he couldn't shake the perception of being watched. For Clara's sake, he pushed it aside as they went about their task of locating a spot to dig a well.

A soft breeze swept through the overgrown grass of the vast field they walked through it, while the homeowner observed from the porch of his log cabin—a hand shading his face. Corbin didn't blame him for his curiosity. Every witcher had their own style for finding water, and his grandfather's method was definitely unique.

And there Clara was with eyes closed and arms outstretched like Frankenstein, feeling for water.

"I can't feel anything!" she threw her hands in the air.

"Then use these..." Corbin offered her a pair of dowsing rods, but she smacked them away.

"No. I wanna do it your way. I want to feel it without having to rely on those silly sticks!"

"You're overthinking it. You need to relax."

"Easy for you to say! Even as a kid, you could feel it without having to try."

"Clara, you just need to relax," he insisted. "Close your eyes."

"Fine," she huffed.

Corbin placed a hand on her abdomen. "Inhale, exhale, and think of water. Concentrate."

She did as he instructed, and after a few breaths, he stepped in front of her, lifted her hands, and began guiding her as he walked backward. Clara kept her eyes closed and continued breathing as they glided through the field in what looked like a waltz. After a while, she halted and opened her eyes.

"I think I feel it!"

"Where?"

"To the right... Over there." She pointed.

"Good. That's where I feel it too."

"So, I did it?" Her eyes shimmered with tears, and she covered her mouth as a giggle of joy escaped. "I did it."

Corbin smiled. "See? You just have to relax, breathe, and concentrate on the water like my grandfather once taught you."

"Ok, ok, you're right." She rolled her eyes. "I guess we should start digging so we can install a water pump before sundown. We have a party to get to."

"You're still insisting we go, huh?"

"Of course!"

"You sure enjoy pressing Gunner's buttons."

"Hey, happy wife, happy life." Clara grinned.

***
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