The wind rushed through his hair as he ran the long road of Lunar Hill, the highest in the area. Youths trying to be romantic would come here and gaze upon the night sky and try to touch the moon.

Karolus remembered briefly bringing curly blonde haired Brienne up here, managing his first kiss before her mother turned up and beat him with a stick. The highlander smiled inwardly, controlled his breathing and risked a peak over the rock he had claimed as safe.

Glencora launched a blunted javelin at him with a lustful battle cry. He ducked it, just, and ran for the next rock. Tiny three inch high earthen humanoids ran alongside Karolus, jumping on the large rocks and pointing their stony limbs up the hill.

Another javelin flew nearby and hit one of the small elemental spirits, smashing it to pieces. The others tucked into small spheres and rolled out of the way.

“Sorry! I was aiming for the caterpillar!” they shouted.

“Hey!” Karolus retorted.

Adrenalin pumping, most of his focus was on keeping it in check, not allowing the anxiety of it overwhelm him. Taking a tight turn past a very large rock spiking from the ground like an animal tooth he risked a look back. His hunter was nowhere to be seen.

Taking in gulps of air and calming himself Karolus picked up the wayward javelin. A smile on his face at the thought of getting to throw it back at Glencora. Moving at a jog now, watching ahead, every noise exaggerated and making him pause. He knew his hunter was far more knowledgeable in this game than he.

Cresting the top of the hill the reason for its name became clear. The plateau before him was shaped like a crescent. The backside of it sloping away and down. Stones in natural positions had vibrant green blooms at the base. Multiple white stones pulsated as if filled with starlight.

There was no time to take in its simple beauty as Glencora leapt a full thirty feet and landed an arms length away from him. They were massive, enlarged somehow, muscles thicker and stronger, at least three feet taller. The wooden claymore in their hand swept towards him.

Karolus had no idea what was happening but threw himself backwards avoiding the attack. Chunks of the ground flew. Landing hard on his back he rolled quickly to his feet. Glencora came forwards swinging the massive sword left and right trying to take him out in a single swing. 

Rolling left to a rock and ducking it as the wooden weapon crashed against the stone instead of his head Karolus saw his gap and with his feet planted under him dashed forwards and punched them hard in the gut. The blow was accurate, and the wind would have been knocked from a normal sized Glencora but in their enlarged form it would leave a bruise but didn't slow them down.   

The clash lasted only a heartbeat or two more when a clean hit from Glencora connected with Karolus as they shifted their feet and back swung with the weapon, the flat of the blade hitting him with enough force to take him off his feet and crash across the ground into a protruding rock. He had tried to roll with it but his footing was all wrong.

As Glencora approached their size reducing with every step. By the time they were in front of the winded Karolus they were back to normal. 

“What are you? Pretty sure being a magi is cheating.” Karolus wheezed.

“Well trained, now get up, you lazy bug.” they responded with a smile and a hand held out.

They sounded like his mother. Taking the offered hand he pulled himself to his feet. 

“That was more than well trained, I had no clue you could cast magic.” Karolus dusted himself off, painfully. Wincing with each movement.

“Also think you cracked my ribs.” His breathing was painful.

Glencora laughed loudly as was their way. Before patting the two vials on their belt. One still filled with a green liquid the other now empty. 

“I told you they turned me into a giant.” more laughter followed.

Karolus stared at the empty vial. All this time he had disbelieved, thinking them as some sort of Douén tonic. He supposed in a way it was.

“I noticed you missed your step, had to be done. And it's not quite casting magic, I know a few potions.” Glencora picked the other vial and shook it. The green liquid swirled and within it looked like tiny stone chips joined in.

“Did the Douén teach you?” he asked, inspecting the vial, it was smooth to touch and the hairs on his hand raised.

“That they did, and a little help from the earth spirits.” Glencora gave a bow to the smaller boulder spirits that had been involved in the fight. 

“Right back down we go, Galwyn is waiting. You're going on a trip.” Glencora shoved him hard enough to make him wince at the pain that shot through his ribs.

“Trip?” he asked, stopping in his tracks, watching Glencora carry on.

With every step the pain lessened in his side. However, the memory did not, Gelncoras strike had been true and accurate. The force of the hit would have cut him in half if they had been using a steel blade.

Over the last couple of weeks he had been assured everyday that failure in the lessons would prepare him for success in reality. Not knowing certain letters and words didn’t mean death if you got them wrong outside of class.  

Wet mist clung to every part of him. Karolus enjoyed it to start with as it helped him cool after the adrenalin burst, he had fighting Glencora. But now as they made it further down the large hill, he felt its cold presence on his skin and lower back which was more annoying than one might think.

Once back at the camp he and Glencora would help one another stretch their bodies and settle their muscles for the next encounter of the day.

It was late into the afternoon when they reached the base and could see the few Douén waiting for them with a fire going and a decent meal. Glencora walked immediately over to the fire and began to drink and eat the cooked meat on the spit above the flames. 

Karolus was rolling his body trying to find a position that felt comfortable. It turned out that no position helped. The stretching was new to him, but Glencora was adamant it needed to happen. Leaning on one another, pushing and pulling, holding certain positions felt good after a short while. 

He remained quiet for a good couple of hours just listening to the Douén talking of exaggerated adventures across the lands where monarchs were made, and innocents were lost. These lands they must travel came across as so far away it was impossible to comprehend. 

Now he had spent time around them and seen the Douén in their everyday lives looking after the camp and interacting with the elemental spirits. Karolus found the stories to be greatly embellished. Which he enjoyed as they would have been boring otherwise. 

It did however give him a moment to look at them and see living breathing creatures. The grandeur of them was there but in subtle ways. His perspective was changed somewhat. Awe was no longer what he felt, but an admiration of something ancient. 

Karolus found himself making scenes from the stories using the mud and twigs on the floor around the camp. The rain helped with making the mud but failed to dampen the spirits of the Douén. In the last couple of days, he had noticed that they never seemed to not be in high spirits, well except for Galwyn who was the complete opposite and in a permanent grump.

Glencora was another he had learnt a lot about in his time with the Douén. They were super confident around the camp, as if one of the Douén. In Grey Rock they were very polite and well mannered. Here among the Douén Glencora was very relaxed

Another subtle change to Karolus' world. 

He looked down at his filthy hands and laughed. The small scene before him replicated his fight with Glencora atop the hill. A large stone with sticks and mud as limbs versus a smaller stone with similar appendages. 

Maybe there was a life as a mud sculpture lay before him.  

Karolus walked the camp, it was sporadic. The tents were pitched wherever there was space on the hillside. No perimeter was set up, for the Douén seemed to fear nothing of the stories of creatures in the night, or things that go bump in the dark forests. 

The more Karolus thought about it, it was probably the Douén that folk had feared once upon a time. After all they were large beasts walking around on two legs with magic and fangs. There was definitely a superstition that came from the people in Grey Rock towards the creatures. 

Tarl was playing knucklebones with Grenk and Sar, two Douén brothers. Both were short, well for a Douén. Broad shoulders and thick legs donned in strips of leather tied around the biceps and thighs. The boar was clearly the bloodline that ran through them, wide heads with curling tusks from the mouth.

“You fancy a game Karolus? We promise not to take all your highland gold!” Sar called over.

Karolus was not great at gambling, he did not have what they called a poker face. But it was wet, cold and he was for the most part being ignored whilst most ate and drank.

“How about highland copper?” he asked as he joined them at their smaller camp fire and took up the bone dice and threw them into the shoddy wooden tray.

The four of them played into the depth of night, the temperature had truly dropped and the rain was heavier. It was a horrible night to be sleeping out in the forests. Galwyn had insisted Karolus made it up the hill that day.

The training was hard, and immediate. When they woke the morning after the incident with the Nymph, Galwyn had been on Karolus' back. They ran, wrestled and fought with wooden replica weapons. Karolus didn’t mind the running, but the wrestling and weapon work made him feel stupid. He was always bested by both Douén and Glencora.

He had definitely improved and reckoned he would do well at the Winter Solstice games coming up. But still felt so far behind. It had also become apparent that Glencora had been holding back with all these years. 

They always reminded him it had only been a couple of weeks and to hang in there, but Karolus was not enjoying the waiting part.

They were done with the game and sleep was the next best option. Tarl, Grek and Sar gave him hefty and friendly slaps on the back as they all made their way to their tents. Every slap hit like a boulder and the soreness of his whole body jumped back to the front of his mind.

He knew he should go back to his tent and rest for whatever Galwyn had in store for him the next few days but despite feeling pretty exhausted he wasn’t sleepy. With a grunt and groan he pulled himself to his feet and headed away from the camp, just to stand among the trees. He couldn’t see too far and knew a few feet more and he wouldn’t even be able to see his hands in front of him.

The stars were absent behind the rain clouds, no moon for the same reason. He gave out a long sigh and pondered on the trip Glencora had mentioned. Obviously, they shared no detail with him as where would the fun in that be.

At the moment his home settlement was only a few hours' trek away. His mother and brother still felt close. But a trip away? He had always wanted to jump headfirst in with the Douén and take part in their adventures. Somehow the last few days of mud, rain and running has taken away the shine of the idea.

The snap of a twig was very different to the splashing of raindrops hitting the wet mud and made him alert. The hunting knife he carried was quickly in his hand. He looked back towards the camp and saw very little movement. 

Scanning the trees, he noticed the silhouette moving several feet ahead. Stepping in between the trees.

“How's the ribs?” Glencora asked softly but remaining at a distance in the dark.

“By the Drydakka Glen you scared the living crap out of me.” Karolus let out a long held breath and put the knife away.

“Glen?” they asked still softly.

Karolus had never shortened their name before now and didn’t know how they would react.

“Erm, I mean Glencora, look I jumped a foot in the air, my bad.” He tried to defend his words and back track at the same time.

Glencora made it a few steps closer. Karolus could see them now, the armour and thick clothing he was so familiar with seeing them wear was gone. Instead, they stood there in a mint green robe of sorts, it was thin and clung to their form in the rain. Their hair was loose about them or would have been if not for being soaking.

Karolus immediately stepped forwards to give them his rain cloak. Glencora’s hand came up and they put their palm on his chest both softly and firm.

“You must be freezing, what are you doing? And how drunk are you?” Karolus didn’t push back, he now held the rain cloak in one hand acknowledging that they were both getting wetter than they needed to be.

“I am fine, gentle caterpillar. Just fine.” Their words were softer and almost a whisper, void of jest.

Karolus couldn’t deny he was freaking out a little bit. His friend was acting different, they were acting strange. The forest seemed to only have two sounds, that of the rain falling and the breathing coming from Glencora. Panic and a tiny building of fear began to take hold.

“I like Glen, call me that from now on.” They took slow steps until they were right in front of Karolus, their breath and his mixing.

Karolus didn’t move and didn’t know why. Other than when they were wrestling he had never been this close to them. They were staring deeply into his eyes, he felt as if his soul was being read. It was in this moment he realised just how beautiful he found their eyes.

“Glen..what..” before he could finish the sentence Glens eyes closed and they gave him a gentle kiss before stepping back.

Their eyes remained closed for a moment and they breathed slow and deeply before opening their eyes and looking back at Karolus' stunned expression.

“Maybe another time.” Glen turned and walked back into the darkness of the forest and disappeared from sight.

Karolus stood staring, the rain fell straight down due to a lack of wind. He pulled the cloak slowly back around his shoulders. He tried to see where Glen had gone but was unable to find them.

He moved back into the camp, his mind swimming with what just happened. Piecing together the last fifteen minutes felt alien, as if he had witnessed it rather than being part of it. 

Pulling the tent flap back he saw Glen now laying wrapped up in woollen blankets. Galwyn was on the opposite side of the tent with a single blanket pulled over his lower half. The large chest of the wolf rose with every deep and low growling breath. There were markings on the chest Karolus hadn’t seen before but was not even remotely thinking of waking Galwyn to ask.

Stripping out of the wet clothes and wrapping in dry blankets was a great feeling. The bruising on his ribs was most of his flank. The pain had subsided mostly but the ache and soreness lingered.

Laying on his side, hugging the wool he thought of Glen and their youth. As children they were mischievous, always causing trouble and always getting away with it, well nearly always.

Never had a moment like tonight happened between them. The amount of times they had side-kicked for one another in the taverns was a lot. His thoughts then moved to the sleeping wolf. Karolus knew his future was with this creature, this beast, this soul but something nagged at him about it. Looking back to Glen, he smiled and let sleep take him.  

**

The morning was noisy as the camp was packed away. Glen had risen early and gone wherever. Galwyn was outside the tent tightening ropes on bags and such. 

“We are heading out shortly. Here.” Galwyn threw a corked jug into the tent, hard enough it thumped into Karolus.

He grunted at the impact but had drunk the warm liquid before so popped the cork and took a long gulp. The heat in his chest was very welcome and the spark of alertness it gave him was enough for Karolus to get ready and help with the packing of the camp.

Karolus didn’t question Galwyn on the trip as he knew it would lead to a vague conversation of Galwyn answering every question with “You shall see” which wasn’t annoying at all.

Nowhere could he see Glen, and after asking for them now, it seemed had knowledge of where they were. 

Carrying the soaking canvas strained his core making him wince with each step, a constant reminder of the hit he took the day before. Some of the tents allowed three or four Douén to sleep in them and he did not carry the strength they did. The barrows were now loaded, and the group began to move away from the foot of Moon Hill towards the nearby forest.

On the road for about an hour, trudging through thick mud, thanking the Drydakka that the rain had stopped Karolus kept looking for Glen but they were nowhere to be seen.

“Tarl, have you seen Glen?” he asked with genuine concern. 

“Aye lad, they are heading back to Grey Rock.” the mastiff Douén replied, wiping water from his mouth.

Karolus didn’t know what answer he was expecting but it wasn’t that. Why were they going and not him? Thinking about it he was missing his Ma and Connor. The homesick feeling sunk in as the chance to go home and see them had not been offered. 

“Why?” was all he could think to ask.

“No idea, something about ships at sea.” Tarl moved up ahead to assist an earth spirit that had rolled off a wagon and was on its back struggling to get back on its feet.

“Wha…? Karolus was still none the wiser.

If Glen is heading home then where are we going? Karolus asked himself as the group continued on.

It was late in the day when they finally stopped, the hike through mud that was once frozen and now soft. Weaving through the bare trees seemed effortless and Karolus was not entirely sure how the Douén were managing it with the carts. 

For there was no path for them to follow. It was as if the land itself gave them safe passage. Giving way to the ancient beasts. 

Karolus however was feeling it in the legs, every step another repetition towards honing his strength and conditioning. The longsword they had given him was a training tool, heavier than a normal weapon. Albeit would do some damage if he landed it. 

Come the evening Karolus saw that only he and the Douén were making camp. There was no sign of any other, Gnome, Halfling or anyone. Come to think of it, there wasn’t when they had set off. 

Had Glen escorted them back to their homes, had they failed to be chosen by the Douén. He would ask them when he got the chance.

Camp was set, but there was something different about it. The elemental spirits were missing. For the first time since being among the Douén he didn’t see a single one, not even atop Galwyn’s staff.

“What's going on Tarl?”

“How’d yer mean?”

“Where are the spirits?”

“All about us lad, you’ll see.” The mastiff laughed and gave a friendly dig to Karolus' arm.

Karolus joined Tarl and a few others around the main fire. All shared hot chunks of rabbit meat and honeyed tea. No mead was consumed that evening. 

The moon was awe inspiringly bright, and perfectly whole in the sky. Every star about it wished they could match its radiance. 

“Karolus, will you join me please.” The voice of Cahira was soft and polite. An Otter Douén, she was kind and sweet. 

The highlander nodded and rose. Following her to a circle that had been marked out with coloured chalks, the pattern within it was unknown to him but also created with the same colourations.

“Stand at the centre, Karolus. When Galwyn arrives we will begin.” Cahira smiled and gave him a tight hug.

“Begin what? What's going on Cahira?” Karolus asked as he stepped to the middle of the chalked out circle.

“Within each of us, there is a spark of spirit that sits waiting to be called upon. Some it happens naturally, others never wake it, and there are those that need a push.” Cahir gestured as the wolf Galwyn approached the circle, the majority of the other Douén following in behind.

All the Douén surrounded the circle, except Galwyn who went and stood beside Karolus. Growls and murmurs became the ambient sound for the forest.

Karolus waited anxiously. Then looking up at Galwyn sore that his eyes had turned to complete blue orbs of light staring skyward. A language older than time came from the wolf. As if having a conversation with the moon. 

The coloured chalk all about him ignited and the night was lit up with multiple colours. It gave off no heat and didn’t burn his skin. Air rushed about him as the elemental spirits started to join in. His feet were anchored to the ground the the earth, as fire gave flame to the chalk, water came and put it out. 

As it did the wind left and he could move his feet once more. Karolus half stumbled feeling something deep within his chest. A pain at first then a comforting warmth.

The circle was filled with the elemental spirits, tiny orbs of reds, oranges, blues, whites, greens. The Douén were all smiling at Karolus, coming towards him and hugging or patting him on the head or back.

Congratulating him as if he had achieved a victory in some game or life event.

“What, what was that Galwyn?” Karolus looked up at the wolf who was staring through his soul. His eyes were back to normal now.

“We shall see.” The wolf walked away through the crowd of Douén.

Cahira knelt beside the highlander now at the same eyeline. The same soft smile, she brushed his hair away from his face. Staring into those sea green eyes.

“He didn’t seem happy. Did it go wrong?” Karolus was still trying to work out what the ritual was about.

“He never is, and no, it went perfectly. Soon we shall know, but most importantly, so will you.” She stood and held his hand, giving it a squeeze. Cahira led him through the cluster to the fire again.

“Now that's done, enjoy the evening and prepare to set off home tomorrow.” Her otter nose twitched from side to side and she headed away from the fire to play knuckle dice with Tarl. 

Left at the fireside, contemplating his own thoughts. The word home drifted on the air in front of him. His smile was from ear to ear.