​Aira nodded, though inside she was deeply confused. There were a few things that had stood out to her during the meeting and as she followed Tal outside after. Sarin, the Alpha, had calmly turned aside each of Tara’s frustrated challenges and although there was not a resolution yet and a duel could still happen, the council seemed more doubtful of its necessity than when Tara had first entered the room. The other thing that she noticed, and it bothered her that it had stood out so starkly to her, was that the Alpha had been a female werewolf. Not only that, but there were also so many other women in that room, and someone she knew had no gender at all. Many of the women in the room had worn pants, not skirts, and not one of the men had made a single comment. Tal hadn’t either! What was it about this place? Or… what was it about Nefti? 
 
That made Aira pause and she looked down at her clothes. They didn’t define her, didn’t change who she was inside, they helped her stay warm and the fact that she was in pants simply made things like taking long strides or running or fighting a little bit easier. Clothes were simply there to adorn her, and as she was seeing, some had utility. Or perhaps all had utility, the uses just perhaps a little more hidden for somethings than others.
 
“You alright there, Aira?” Tal said. 
 
She looked up at him, “I’m not sure. I think I was taught some very untrue things growing up.”
 
“Hmm. That can be a rattling realization. I think it would be good to unpack that at some point. I don’t think I’ll be able to right now. Is that alright?”
 
She nodded and he smiled down at her.
 
“Okay. Let’s try to get to Tara.”
 
Tal picked up his pace and they made their way through the werewolf village. Werewolves stood in groups watching as they went, whispering to themselves. Aira felt her cheeks grow warm, wondering what they were saying. It was sure to be about her and Tal and of course be negative and--
 
“Hey, kid, stop that train of thought right now. It isn’t useful or true. Come on, we have to get to Tara before she does something stupid.”
 
Around the next bend, they saw Tara sitting on a bench outside of a large home, looking at her weapon as it rested on her knees, her brow furrowed. 
 
“Tara!” Tal called out, “We would speak with you.”
 
“Of course you would. Who says I would?” Tara spat, her knuckles standing out white as she gripped the handle.
 
“Please, Tara. We aren’t here to do much more than listen.”
 
She jumped to her feet, a snarl forming when the door opened and a short stout woman in long flowing robes stuck her head out of the house and scowled at Tara, “Are you really about to do violence to villagers? In front of our house? Ta! Invite them in and do not forget to take off your boots and hang up your ax by the door. Well?”
 
Tara’s mouth froze in a mid-snarl and she lowered her lips slowly, glancing sideways at Tal and Aira, “You heard her, come in, I guess.”
 
She pushed past the woman, kicking her boots off and slamming her ax on a hook set in the wall beside the door frame. Aira’s eyes widened and met the woman’s briefly before looking down at her soft boots. 
 
“Come on come in, but you take your shoes off too. I just cleaned and do not want any of your battle dust in here, no thank you!” she whirled and went to the kitchen, beckoning Tal and Aira forward.
 
“I suppose it would be rude not to follow her, eh?” Tal elbowed Aira and took his shoes as he stepped into the house and Aira hastened to emulate him. 
 
The home was warm, the oven fire lit, and the smell of baking bread wafting to Aira’s nose. Her mouth began to water as she caught the scent of rabbit roasting and root vegetables simmering in a pot. How large was the kitchen that it accommodated so many foods heating at once? Tara and the woman were seated at a large wooden table, glasses and a pitcher of water already there and poured, enough for each of them. Tal sat next to Tara and Aira sat across from them, reaching for a glass at Tal’s nod. 
 
“Well, I am Charisse, Tara’s wife. Welcome to our home. I know you are Tal, but who is your companion? A little young for you, I’d imagine.” The stout woman said, sipping from her cup and raising light brown eyebrows at Tal.
 
“Ah. Well, this is Aira of Nefti. She and I met along the road and decided to travel together. She is a werewolf and I thought she might be a helpful resource to us here.”
 
Aira waved then drank out of her cup at Charisse’s smile. Tara’s wife? Aira’s heart beat a little faster and her thoughts flashed to Trish. 
 
“Oh, I see. In that case, I shall judge you a bit less, sir Dragonwolf. How can we help you?” Charisse said.
 
“We wished to speak with Tara about the issue with the dwarves and frankly with Alpha Sarin. Your display earlier was a lot, but I imagine you feel you had a good cause.”
 
Tara clenched her jaw, “Of course I have a good cause! Sarin sits and twiddles her thumbs while our neighbors laugh and steal from us! She leaves their insults unanswered and shows that we are weak to everyone who knows about the situation!”
 
Tal raised his chin, “Ah,” was all he said before glancing at Charisse, “Is there any change we may intrude on your dinner this evening? I can help with setting the table and any food prep you need? I think we may need more time to speak about this and do not want to delay your dinner.”
 
“Oh, of course! Did I not already invite you to eat with us? How silly of me! The plates are in the cupboard. Aira can help me with the vegetables if you and Tara could set the table and get the rabbit on a platter. By their smell, the rolls should be done. We just need the butter from the coolbox, thank Naidow for that little invention.” Charisse clapped her hands and jumped into the kitchen, taking Aira’s elbow and tugging her with her to check the vegetables while Tal and Tara moved to the cupboard to get the dishes.

The Alpha, Sarin, closed her yellow eyes and sighed, “Tara. I was wondering when you would join our meeting.” 

Sarin tucked a short brown piece of hair behind her pointed ear and looked around the room. Aira followed her gaze. Almost half of the seated council looked shocked, but the others looked straight at Sarin, their lips pressed into firm lines. They were not surprised. They had known this was coming and they were looking at their Alpha for her reaction.

Tara snarled, her lips curling to reveal two sets of long, sharp canines, her green eyes seeming to glow as they narrowed, “Are you such a coward that you refuse to answer my challenge?”

“No. But this is not how things are done. You have known our laws long enough. You have served this council long enough to know that. What do you hope to gain by this declaration?” 

Aira was impressed. Sarin was meeting Tara’s anger with calm reason. She hadn’t stood yet she held so much force that she seemed to tower over Tara despite being seated. 

“Your weak ways have only been the law for three generations. Before that, and still, in our true laws, leadership has always been decided through fang and claw and steel. Ridic, would you read the true law, the law that has not been revoked or repealed despite the attempt to weaken us?” Tara turned to a robed werewolf who had a large book in front of him.

Ridic turned to a bookmarked page and cleared his throat, “Per law 368, section 2: if a pack member believes the Alpha is no longer fit for service, she may call a challenge. The Alpha must accept or step down from her position and cede to the challenger. If the challenge is accepted, there shall be a fight to the death or surrender. This we have decreed to maintain the strength of the pack.”

“As you can see, Sarin, you have two choices. Per the law that you were elected to uphold. Fight or cede. Make your choice.”

Sarin looked at each of the council members in turn as she said, “Is this truly what we have become? After all our progress will we revert to such ways?”

The other members looked down and away from her, not wanting to meet her eyes. The robed werewolf sighed, “I do believe that there is very little choice here…”

“Little choice? Why Zeka, I’d have thought better of you, of all wolves!” Tal said causing Aira to jump. He had been so silent. “You know how much we have a choice over!” He stood and frowned at Tara, raising an eyebrow until her shoulders stiffened and she sat, her weapon making a dull thud as it hit the table.

“That’s better. Now, the fact of the matter is, we don’t know what is going on with the dwarves. Or did you witness them stealing personally, Tara? Mm. I thought not. So, you are willing to die over this, are you?”

Tara bared her teeth, “She is not right. She has let us become weak. That has to be answered.”

“Is that so? Let me ask this, what makes you so weak? How has she done that?”

“You can see it here, in her handling of the missing stores! The evidence is there, the dwarves are doing fine, and we suffer because they take our food and water!”
​
“Are they, and do they? I still wonder…” Tal trailed off, touching his chin, “All I see, to be quite frank, is a leader deciding to do what is best for her people. What would the cost be of a war with the dwarves? The werewolf cost? Certainly, you are strong and have an advantage of height, but dwarves are resourceful and if they feel threatened, surely will not simply roll over like you seem to think Sarin will.”

The other werewolves shifted uneasily in their chairs, glancing at each other. Trec frowned at the table then at Tal, “What exactly are you implying? You are an ambassador from Naidow? Why should we continually allow outside influence on personal matters?”

“That is fair, although I am not from Naidow. I was sent from Lartnek and have never in my many years represented Naidow personally, though my wife did for a time. Ultimately, I was called in because your leader felt that we might have some insight into the food storage problem and because she saw the tensions building with your neighbors. And that, my dear Trec, is not a personal problem if you choose to fight the dwarves. Any and all treaties that you have with Lartnek and Naidow will be null and void if you choose this path and, depending on the severity of your assault, we may send aid to the dwarves against you.”

The chamber stilled. While the werewolves were capable warriors and had taken care of themselves for many years, it seemed, they could not afford to have two kingdoms stand against them. The council members looked at Tara, now deflated.

“I still think that the dwarves are responsible,” she said quietly, “I believe I would be a stronger and more capable Alpha.”

“Perhaps. But do you truly believe that you have all the evidence you need to justify this attack to the outside world? I am sure you have a following here that would support you, but outside?”

Tara pulled back her lips in a snarl and folded her arms across her chest, avoiding his gaze.

“Ah. Well, then, seems to me that information is needed before we make any drastic decisions, don’t you?”

Sarin cleared her throat, “As much as I appreciate your input, and value it, I believe that it should be our decision. You all were elected and chosen to make decisions for the best of our people. Will you support Tara in her attack on the dwarves and therefore call for me to cede or fight her for control? Or will you support us in making progress and finding out more information about the situation?”

No one moved for several long minutes. Zeka stood and rubbed their arm, “I feel this calls for a recess.”
Sarin nodded, “That is understandable. I move to reconvene tomorrow at noon with a request that each member stays for a lunch provided by my house after our vote.”

The council members muttered their assent. Tara pushed back from the table, her chair scraping loudly on the floor, and grabbed her weapon, whirling from the room. Tal sighed and met Sarin’s eyes. She nodded.
​
“Well, Aira, let’s see if we can catch that werewolf, shall we?” Tal said, looking down and at a bewildered Aira.

J’ander led them through the trees, and as they came to two large trees that stretched higher than Aira could see even when craning her neck, the path officially changed from a stone riddled forest path to a completely paved one. A few paces further, soft light emanated from glass orbs that hung in the upper branches of the overhanging trees and bathed the path in a warm yellow glow. Further on, wood and brick houses began to line the path, getting higher and higher as their small party walked. Some had wooden signs with store or tavern names swinging on iron-wrought hangers on ground level and flower boxes in the upper windows. Those must have homes on the second stories, Aira figured. Apartments that shopkeepers lived in or rented out, she supposed. The road soon split into a large circle with grass lining its center along with a large tree, it’s trunk so wide that Aira would not be able to reach around it. 

It was all Aira could do not to stare. She had never seen such a gigantic tree. Her city was all stone and brick and metal. That was supposed be a testament to all the technological advances Nefti* had made. But ultimately, the enormity of the tree dwarfed anything that the Architects had built. 

“Pretty cool, huh?” Tal whispered to her as he saw her staring.

She nodded and smiled up at Tal, “I never knew trees got that big.”

“It’s an old tree. Probably older than the oldest building made in this town. It houses many animal families. It is quite impressive.”

J’ander looked back and scowled, “It’s just a tree. Now come on, we are almost there.”
​
He waved to them and pointed to a large wooden building. Its roof came to a point directly above the large double doors, and the walls were painting with various depictions of vines and flowers. Aira had to force her mouth to close because, though she came from a big city, she had never seen such an integration between nature and construction. She glanced over at Tal, but his face had taken a serious light. There was business to be done behind those doors.

J’ander held open the door to a long hallway. A crimson rug ran the length leading the way to a second set of doors. There, two werewolves stood at attention. Both wore tight leggings and loose tunics that were fastened with wide woven belts. Both held tall spears that topped them by nearly a foot of steel even though they rested on the floor. Aira stared as she realized that they both appeared to be women. She glanced at J’ander again and noticed his long flowing robes tied with a fine fabric belt, no weapons to be seen and recalled that he had called her a warrior simply because she was not in long robes.

“May I present Tal and Aira from Lartnek to see the council?” J’ander announced to the guards.

The warriors looked Tal and Aira up and down before nodding and opening the double doors to let the party into an octagonal room, a large oval table in its center. At its head sat a short haired woman, her yellow eyes narrowed as she watched Tal and Aira enter.

“I sent for you days ago. I was under the impression that Lartnek sent its ambassador via dragon wing. You should have arrived no later than two days ago. Your tardiness is costly.”

“My apologies, Alpha.” Tal bowed and motioned Aira to do the same.

She shot him a disgruntled glare but did as bid. She could catch on. He didn’t need to spell everything out. She wasn’t that backwards.

The Alpha pursed her lips and then nodded, gesturing to two empty chairs at the table. She then turned her attention to the other members of the council.

“As we all know, we have recently had a problem with our water and food supplies. It has been noted that many of the stores we have underground for our reserve water have been spoiled by dust and a chemical that is found in the deep caves nearby. Food storage in similar; underground storage containers have also been found to either be missing completely or similarly damaged. It is my opinion that there is a misunderstanding with our neighbors, or we have a problem with our storage sealant. It might be time to revisit how we store the resources most vital to our survival, especially given the technology created by the Schools in Naidow and Lartnek.”

“We’ve been storing food and water underground for over five centuries. Why should we stop now?” A robed werewolf interrupted the Alpha, his eyes green matched the shimmery thread that embroidered his fine robes.

“Trec has a point,” another robed werewolf said. They laid a hand down on the wooden table forcibly, “We shouldn’t be forced to change our traditions because Naidow says it is the best way!”

“I do not mean that we change our traditions to suit another kingdom’s, merely that we should look to new technology as a way to benefit our people if we have need of it.”

“Our neighbors, as you so glibly call those Nai-blinded dwarves, have been looking exceedingly fat and well-fed lately. Perhaps they want our land and are trying to starve us out of it!” Trec barked angrily.

“I wish them well if they are prospering, but if they are doing so from our stores, there shall be words, Alpha,” said the robed werewolf who had slapped the table earlier.
​
The Alpha sighed and rubbed her temples with her forefingers then rose. She was not in robes. Instead, she wore clothes that were similar to the guards: tight fitting leggings and a loose tunic belted at the waist with a thick woven belt. A long dagger hung at her waist.

​The next day, after a blessedly rock-free sleep, Tal and Aira arrived in a part of the forest unlike anything they’d seen previously. The trees were just as thick around them, but the ground they walked on was somehow tamer. Aira found herself stumbling over roots and rocks less. In fact, she realized, she didn’t see any on the path. And, moreover, the ground had become a path in truth. Perhaps even a road. As they continued, large paving stones dotted the way until finally they were all Tal and Aira were walking on.

The scents in the air changed. Where before, Aira could smell the leaves of the trees and small animals, she now smelled something musty and slightly burnt. Like the smell of cookfires and fur. She glanced at Tal and noticed a slight smile on his face. He seemed to feel her eyes on him because he looked over her and nodded.

“Good guess,” he said, “I do believe we are here. Look in the trees on either side of us. Do you see them?”

Aira felt her heart flutter, and her stomach jump as she looked. There, in the shadow of the trees, were figures carrying crossbows and spears. Some even had purple and teal glowing lights around their hands, obviously readying Nightforce to use against Tal and Aira should they prove hostile. Aira gulped and tightened the grip on her crossbow but resisted the urge to summon her Nightforce to her hands. She would not want to be the reason these figures attacked, though she would be prepared. Glancing over at Tal, she was surprised to see his smile fading and his eyes narrowing.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, betting that he would be able to hear her. He was part werewolf after all.

He shook his head at her and motioned her to stay with him. Then he eased the sword from its scabbard, his stance becoming more guarded and somehow more athletic. Did he think they would attack?

Suddenly, a tall man appeared next to them and began walking alongside Tal. “Greetings, travelers. What brings you here?”

Tal flicked his green-black eyes down at the man, taking in the long dagger held ready in one hand and the purple glow of Nightforce cloaking the other. “I was summoned by the Alpha. I have traveled from Lartnek to meet with your leader.”

“Hmm,” the man sighed, tucking a strand of black hair behind his pointed ear, “I don’t suppose you have the summons on you? To verify that you are who you say you are?”

“I can share the memory of when we received the summons, but no. I do not have a physical copy.” Tal smiled, disgruntled.

“Then I must insist you wait here while I bring the news of your arrival to our Alpha. We have had some trouble with outsiders recently. I would not wish to harm you if you are speaking the truth. Could I learn your names? So that I can bring them to the Alpha?”

“I am Tal from Lartnek. This is Aira. She is a fellow werewolf and has come at my behest to help me on this journey.”

The werewolf nodded and gestured to a small clearing ahead full of moss-covered stumps. “Please, take your ease. I will return promptly.”

Tal groaned as he lowered himself onto one of the stumps, slamming his sword back into its sheath. Aira suppressed a smile and sat too, setting her crossbow on her lap and raising an eyebrow at Tal.

“Not quite the reception you were expecting?”

“No. I expected our missive had reached the Wolves far before we got here. We did walk most of the way. I hope it wasn’t intercepted.”

“Is there some group that wouldn’t want you to come?”

“Not that I’m aware. Can’t be too careful, though. And besides, if someone did intercept the messenger… well, who knows if they left him alive.”

Aira looked down. She hadn’t thought of that. The past few days she had been so wrapped up in her own survival, she really didn’t consider the survival of others. Before this week, she hadn’t really thought about needing to stay alive at all. That was a given. But now, on the run and this diplomatic mission, she was embroiled in more complicated situations than any other time in her entire life.

The leaves rustled behind her, and she whirled, bringing her crossbow up. How she had gotten to her feet, she could not remember, but now she was up and face to face with a young werewolf, wrapped in soft brown robes tied with a green sash.

“Aira. Settle.” Tal said gruffly, “I’m sorry, youngling.”

She shot Tal a glare, “What is he doing creeping around us?”

The werewolf bowed deeply, pressing his palms into his thighs, “I’m sorry if I have offended you, Warrior. I was curious about the visitors and came to see. I thought I might help with a tour if you are admitted.”

His speech was very formal and he kept his eyes averted, even after he rose. Aira frowned and looked at Tal, but he did not seem put off. In fact, he did not make direct eye contact with the boy either.

“Could we know your name? My name is Tal, and this is my traveling companion, Aira. She is a werewolf like yourself.”

“I am J’ander. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Are you not a werewolf, Warrior Tal? You smell like one, but then again not.”

Tal smiled, “Only half. My mother was a werewolf. My father was a Draconian.”

“That would explain it. How long have you known Warrior Tal, Warrior Aira?” J’ander asked, turning back to Aira.
“A few days, now, I suppose.” she sat back down, crossing one leg over the other, ‘J’ander, why do you keep calling Tal and me, Warrior?”

He blinked, looking between them, “You carry weapons and you wear trousers. If the weapons didn’t mark you Warrior, your dress does. Is this not your way?”

“My trousers mark me as a warrior?” she looked at Tal. “No. No, in my city only men wear trousers and women usually wear dresses.”

“Are all of your men warriors? That seems a waste. Not all men are strong enough to fight and protect the Pack. Why would they all need trousers?” J’ander shook his head. “I do not understand. If a woman wants to protect the Pack, why should she have to wear a dress?”

Thankfully, the werewolf that had escorted them to the clearing returned just as she opened her mouth to try and answer J’ander. She really did not know how to explain to this youngling that in Nefti, women wore dresses and men trousers regardless of their occupation. It wasn’t job-related.

“Tal of Lartnek and Aira. The Alpha will see you now. J’ander, since you are here, please escort our guests to the Alpha’s tent. Then find yourself back at your chores. Your mothers will not be pleased to see you neglecting your duties.”

“Yes, Thane,” J’ander bowed again, “Please follow me. I will take you to the Alpha.”

The Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are the core of the New Testament, which is the foundation of Christianity. We Christians believe that Jesus is the fulfillment of the Old Testament based on the covenant that God sent his son to spread the word, or "good news", and the promise of eternal life. Out of the four gospels, most claim Matthew is the oldest; however, that spot goes to Mark. It has been dated anywhere from the 70's to the mid 80's of the first century. The way Mark arranges the story of Jesus' birth, death, and resurrection is the main reason I count it as my favorite. But who wrote Mark? 

CrossExamined.org had a similar question in mind when they wrote a piece reviewing various theories, of which can be found here. The traditional view is that the gospel was written by John Mark who transcribed the teachings of Simon Peter. John Mark is said to be the son of a window named Mary, as seen in Acts 12:12-17). The Bible doesn't give much away as to the author's identity, but there are several traits to the gospel of Mark one could decipher from. Mark is fast paced, focuses on the humanity of Christ, writes with a Latin audience in mind, references Rome, focuses on Peter quite a bit, emphasizes the Messianic Secret, and tells of an unknown man. The unknown man mentioned in Mark 14:51-52 was a strange incident depicting the Garden of Gethsemane. The man is caught when Jesus was arrested and escaped Roman guards but lost his clothing in the scuffle. Many believe this man is the author of Mark!

Now, something I enjoyed about our sourced article mentioned above is that they also looked at the external evidence. They mentioned a quote from the early church who was unanimous in their belief that John Mark was the author stating, 

Papias was a Greek Apostolic Father and Bishop of Hierapolis (modern Pamukkale, Turkey) as noted from GotQuestions.org. He authored the Expostion of the Sayings of the Lord in five books. This piece's purpose was to present an accurate record of the teaching and works of the apostles as reported to him by "John the Elder" aka the Apostle John. Irenaeus (A.D. 130-200) also confers with Papias stating,

Irenaeus was a Greek Bishop who is best known for his role in guiding and expanding the Christian communities into the south of France, especially the theology. 

If we are to take from Irenaeus' statement, "after their departure", to mean Peter's execution, then Mark was written in the mid to late 60's A.D, but possibly as early as 50 A.D. But what is clear, the gospel was written while the author was still in Rome, which was the audience of the time period. The sourced article by CrossExamined.org conclusion is something I agree with:

I truly enjoyed researching this topic and would like to do something similar in the future. If you have any suggestions on my next subject, then let us know in the comments or send us an email at [email protected].

See ya in the next one!

Written by Alexander M. Burchnell
Edited by Christopher J. Burchnell

Aira opened her eyes and groaned. The night had grown cold, and the ground was hard-packed. Was that a rock sticking into her side? She stuck her hand behind her and pulled out the sharpest, biggest rock that could have possibly found its way underneath her. What had she done, rolled around the whole camp in her sleep just to land on the worst rock possible? Aira shook her head and stretched. She had woken Tal up three hours after he had gone to sleep. He had grumbled at her sleepily, chastising her for not waking him sooner, but had sat up promptly, his sword held lightly in his hands.

That had been a slight surprise. Not, perhaps, that Tal had a sword, but that she hadn’t noticed it before. Where had he hidden it? Had he hidden it? Or was she being overly suspicious again? Ugh! She thought. Why can’t I trust him? Well, a quieter voice seemed to say, you did just meet him.

There was that. Speaking of… Where was the dragon? She looked around their campsite, craning her neck around the fire pit. There were their ashes, her cloak (she had used it as a pillow and, of course, had woken up five hundred feet away), and her water skin. No Tal. So he left her after all. Only to be expected. Well, she better pack up and figure out what she was going to do now. Can’t rely on--

“Good morning!” the sing-song voice floated over the trees toward her. Tal, a string full of rabbits held in one hand, his cloak thrown over his shoulder in the other, came striding out of the trees. “I thought we might need a good breakfast. I didn’t smell any food in your cloak, and I, frankly, was supposed to arrive with the werewolves last night, so I didn’t pack any food either. This should serve nicely. Why don’t you get the fire started, and I’ll skin these critters?”

And Tal, very matter of factly, sat down on a nearby rock (much bigger than the one that had jabbed Aira in her sleep) and began skinning the rabbits.

She blinked. What a strange Creature. Shaking her head, she began piling sticks and logs for fuel in the center of the stones she had found the night before. Then, she sat back on her heels and extended her hands toward the pile of wood. Closing her eyes, she reached inside for the flicker of Nightforce she had and sent it streaming through her fingers at the sticks, concentrating on fire. A dark green glow surrounded her hands, and suddenly fire sprang to life around the wood. Triumphant, she looked up at Tal, who had finished skewering two rabbits on a long, sharpened stick.

“Very good,” he said gently, “I usually use flint myself. Dark Power--uh, you Newlings call it Nightforce, now, I believe--takes too much out of me when I use it to justify lighting a fire with it.”

She frowned, “But it’s not that tiring for me.”

“You are a full werewolf, correct? You should have access to more Nightforce than I do. I prefer to use other tools,” he smiled, and suddenly the stick with the rabbits rose in the air and hovered above the fire, seemingly on their own. Aira didn’t see a glow of Night or Dayforce around Tal’s hands.

“How are you doing that?”

“I’m a dragon, remember? Telekinesis. Much easier for me than Nightforce!” Tal laughed at her expression and stretched his legs out. “Won’t be too much longer until the rabbits are ready. Then we better be on our way. I dare say it will take slightly more than a day to reach these werewolves on foot.”

“On foot!” Aira froze as she bent to pick up her cloak and gather her belongings, “Why aren’t we flying?”

“I haven’t had a rider for years. Very uncomfortable. No. We are walking.”

Aira protested loudly as she gathered her things and grudgingly took a rabbit on a smaller stick that Tal handed her. She complained as he kicked dirt over their fire and strode away, munching on his roasted rabbit. She protested as they walked until, finally, she merely grumbled under her breath, kicking up dirt as she trudged behind him.

The day wore on, and they headed deeper into the trees that had surrounded her clearing. The sun rose to its peak, and just as Aira began to feel hungry, Tal produced strips of dried fruit. They were tasty and rather tart. He said he had made it while she was complaining, citing some principal of water extraction she did not follow. Finally, she quieted and began thinking about her escape, and that led to worry. She had been very loud all morning. If they had been followed, someone could have heard her. Aira stole a glance over her shoulder and hurried closer to Tal, her heart beating. The shadows grew longer in the forest, and she imagined she could see soldiers with bows and swords sneaking along behind her and Tal. Had they been followed?

A bird fluttered out of the branches of a tree nearby, and Aira squeaked, latching onto Tal’s arm, then releasing it quickly, muttering an apology.

“It’s okay, Aira. You can hold my arm if it makes you feel safe from birds,” he said with a smile.

“I think we are being followed,” she whispered, hugging her arms close to her chest.

“I haven’t sensed another consciousness as we have been walking, but if you’re worried, I’ll keep a sharp lookout. Who would want to mess with a dragon and a dangerous werewolf, anyway?”

Aira smiled weakly, but still tried to watch every corner. Something felt off. Maybe it was her imagination, but she really didn’t think so. It had to be real. The sun drooped lower, the trees blocking out all but the smallest streaks of light. She heard footsteps echo behind her. Were those theirs? Or the soldiers? Crying out, she whirled around, summoning her Nightforce to her hands and sending it straight through the trees.

To be continued...

Written by Christine Fritzine
Edited by Christopher J. Burchnell

​Aira sat panting near her fire. It had taken her far longer than she had anticipated finding wood dry enough to catch and the night was cold. Her fire was not large enough to do more than warm her toes and her hands, which held her knees tightly to her chest.

Staring into the flickering orange flames, she tried to comprehend what had happened. Trish, her best friend and only confidant, had called the city guard. For her own good, she had said. As if being imprisoned and beaten until she resembled what her city thought a woman should be would benefit her in the slightest.

Her boots shifted in the dirt as she tried to compact herself tighter into her legs. It wasn’t her fault she felt this way, was it? And if Nailan hated what she was, why had he saved her? It didn’t make sense. Perhaps it had been a ruse, a trick, to make her vulnerable and then he would tell her how awful she was in his sight.

“I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t. She was my friend and I thought I could trust her…” Aira whispered to the fire.

It had been Trish that had pushed everything to a boiling point. Trish was a human, destined to live a short life without access to any Power whatsoever or the ability to shift into an animal. She was, by many standards, completely boring. Aira, herself, was a werewolf, able to turn into a wolf at will, able to access Nightforce Power. The only drawback was that during a full moon, Aira had to transform into a wolf whether she wanted to or not. Despite Trish’s boring humanity, Aira was enchanted by her. Her rounded ears, her flat teeth, her… Aira’s cheeks flushed and she squeezed her eyes shut.

That had been the problem. Aira’s heart had always fluttered near Trish, and her stomach always felt in knots. But she couldn’t stay away. They became fast friends and Aira began to feel herself relax more and more around Trish. The human didn’t mind that she wore pants, though she teased Aira mercilessly about how the trousers clung to her form. Aira’s stomach did somersaults for weeks after that. After Trish had offered her a bed in her house, Aira had hoped that Trish cared for her as Aira did. But that had been naive. No, worse than naive, stupid. Aira should have known it was too good to be true. She should have known!

“What are you doing out here?"

Aira leaped to her feet, her hand jumping to the long dagger at her waist, wrenched from her thoughts. A man stood on the other side of the fire, his black hair sweeping across green and black eyes. He smiled and Aira noticed that he had pointed teeth like hers. So, he was a creature.

“What are you doing walking up on my fire?” she snarled, easing her dagger in its sheath.

“I was taking an evening flight and spotted you. You seemed alone and out of sorts so I thought I’d come down and see if you needed help.” he shrugged and sat cross-legged in the dirt, adjusting his coat so that he did not sit on it. It was emerald green, and she thought she saw dragons embroidered in gold along his sleeves. Dragons and… wolves?.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could stay here! You make a habit of creeping up on women in the dark?” That would put him off balance. He would run away quickly once he realized she wasn’t a man! Either that or try to drag her back to Nefti and force her into a dress, or worse.

To her complete surprise, he did not start at the pronouncement of her gender. In fact, now that she thought about it, he hadn’t even blinked at her clothing. Had she crossed into some alternate plane of existence when she crossed the river? In Nefti, a man would be calling for the guards or trying to arrest her if he found out. This man though…

“Not particularly. As I said, I saw you alone, I thought you might need some help. Your mental state--”

“My mental state is none of your business! You can just jump back into the air and go back where you came from!”

He raised his eyebrows and tucked some of his black hair behind an ear she now could see was pointed. “As you wish. I just thought… No matter.”

He rose and stepped back from the fire, his green-black eyes taking on an amused light. Aira shifted her stance, grounding feet into the dirt and tightening her grip on her dagger in case he rushed her. What an odd creature. Suddenly, large black wings unfurled from his back. He snapped them open and Aira could see light green webbing on the underside of the wings. He bent his knees, turning his face to the sky and leaped into the air, his wings taking him higher and higher. What was he? Some sort of Shifter, obviously, but what? A dragon? A Polivorn, able to change into many animals and shapes? She had never seen this half-transformation before, however.

Aira followed him with her eyes as he rose into the air, higher and higher. He really was leaving. That made sense, of course. He said he just wanted to help her, but if he was from Nefti, he would want to take her back in chains, more than likely. If he was from Nefti, he would hate and revile her because she was dressed like a man. If he was from Nefti, he would hate and revile her for Trish. Oh, Trish. Why did you betray me? The thought ran across Aira’s consciousness and she felt a tear run down her face. No! Focus. If this creature was from Nefti, there was nothing to stop him from striking her down and stoning her. True, a soldier in Nefti would most likely jail her rather than stone her, but if he thought she couldn’t be changed, couldn’t be made to conform, she would be executed. A shudder ran through her. Why can’t I be true to who I am? Why do they hate me? Why does Nailan hate me?

What if, a small thought said in the deepest corner of her mind, what if this man isn’t from Nefti? What if he truly does want to help?

Her mouth was so dry as she opened it to cry out, “Wait! Come back!”

She sank to her knees and hung her head. It was too late. Of course it was. But Aira felt the air stir and saw the man’s boots right back on the ground by her fire.

Written by Christine Fritzen
Edited by Chris Burchnell
Graphic Designed by Alex Burchnell

Check out Christine's other work (click here)!

Aira ran. She ran as fast as she could, her breath coming in bursts as she tried to direct enough air into her lungs. It would not be enough. Despite her long legs, they were coming for her and they would catch her.

A small whisper on the wind caught her pointy ear, causing it to quiver. Turn here, it seemed to say. Why she should follow this voice was beyond her, but in a world of dragons and shifters and elves and magic, she had no reason to disbelieve that someone could really be talking to her.

She skidded as she turned, her short dark hair flopping in her green eyes before streaming back as she began to run again. She bared pointed teeth as she saw a river up ahead. Even from this distance, she could see the current rising up in wisps of white. How could she cross it? The voice had led her to a dead end!

Trust. The voice whispered once more, and Aira saw a man standing on the opposite bank of the river. She could make out a shepherd’s crook in one hand and a slight smile on his face.

Were they connected?

Why? She thought at the voice. Who are you?

I am Nailan. I am the beginning and the end. I am your creator. I am your redeemer. I am Nailan.

Shock nearly caused her to fall to her face. Just as she felt herself lose balance, something seemed to catch her and keep her on her feet. Nailan? Why was Nailan trying to help her escape? The kingdom of Nefti had strict laws, and her very clothing broke them. They said it was Nailan’s will that women wore dresses and men trousers. They said it kept things holy. Why would he be helping her?

A glance behind her saw the soldiers nearing. They would catch her against the river. They would reach her even if she tried to run along it. But the water was too deep, too wild, too wide. Even the rock that protruded above the water was too slippery, too far. If she reached it, she knew she would fall, that her foot could not grip the wet surface. Her eyes shot forward and saw Nailan on the opposite bank, a soft smile curving his lips, his eyes seeming to shine.

Trust.

Aira inhaled deeply, reaching the near bank. Okay. She closed her eyes and jumped. Her body felt cushioned by something, held in the air longer than a natural jump would last, and suddenly her feet landed on the rock. Keeping her eyes closed, she trusted that Nailan would help her keep her footing and pushed off once more. She landed on the sandy bank and rolled, jumping up to her feet as fast as she could and looked around. Nailan was clothed in a soft tan robe, the shepherd’s crook at his feet, and he smiled at her. He had saved her. He had helped her escape. She shook her head, trying to rid her eyes of the tears that threatened to fall. He had saved her.

“Go, my child. You are not away yet. They will try to cross, but you have a chance now. Go and know that I am with you. Go.”

She nodded and began trotting away from the river, away from the shouting soldiers. She had a chance. Nailan had provided a chance, and she would take it.

Written by C.F. (Partner Writer)
Edited by Christopher James ​