Late Summer, 1797

The markets of Palisade were renowned around the country as being some of the best, with goods and riches from around the world. Textiles, foods, trinkets, books, animals, supplies, jewels, and oddities, it was easy to find something to buy amongst the brightly colored stalls and from the boisterous, shouting hawkers.

Desmond Gray sat astride his beautiful guardian, something she so rarely allowed that he always reveled in the moment whenever she gave him the opportunity of it. His doe was so strong, and so very prideful. As a fawn, as a yearling, and now into her adulthood, his guardian had proven herself capable of finding disdain in almost anything, including her chosen.

But whenever he took her to the market, she seemed to forget all of that for a little bit. He wasn't sure if it was simply her own curiosity, or maybe a complete sensory overload, but seeing the market and all its wonders never ceased to leave the cream and gray doe in a sense of awe. Dozens of images flashed in his mind as they walked down the cobbled streets, leaving him with the memory of her manifestation on the bartop so many months ago. Thankfully, she would stop flashing the myriad of images soon when she calmed down; it wouldn't be like before, when the entire world had been a bit of a shock for his fawn to handle.

It amazed him how quickly she had grown. He'd read the books, heard the stories, that guardians took anywhere from 10 to 12 months or more to fully mature, but that some would take less. It depended on the guardian, though some suspected it also depended on the bond between the guardian and its chosen. He couldn't be sure of that, because though his bond with Liadain was strong, he wouldn't necessarily call it loving. Sure, she cared for him and would never wish to see him hurt, but she didn't show her affections traditionally. Where he'd seen pure love between others, with Liadain, she showed only disapproval. Anger. Frustration. Irritation. And an overall feeling that her chosen could be better.

He had felt so inadequate before in her eyes, but now he'd come to realize that she only wanted him to improve himself for his own sake. Because secretly, she worried about him. The wolves were coming, and she didn't trust in herself enough to keep him completely protected. She wanted him to be able to defend himself if anything were ever to happen to her.

When he'd finally pieced it together, Liadain had given him a look that could curdle an entire cow's worth of milk. Desmond had never felt so slow in his life.

"GET YOUR FISH HERE. FRESH CAUGHT THIS MORNIN'!"

"Jewels from Belastrana! Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires!"

"Gallian wines, some of the finest you'll taste on this side of the country!"

He felt her muscles quiver in excitement beneath his hand as he watched the hawkers shout their wares to any that might possibly listen. He was eyeing a stall filled with books when the doe stopped dead, her entire body going rigid. Concerned, Desmond followed her gaze, but quickly realized why she'd stopped. Her piercing eyes lay riveted on the wares of a bent-backed man with white hair and missing teeth. He had a friendly enough smile though, and he noticed where the doe's turquoise eyes had gone.

"Ah, she knows what that be. She knows a true prize when she sees it," the old man said, his voice gravelly, wizened. Desmond peered at the skull his guardian had eyes for, trying to place the creature it belonged to.

"Is that a wolf skull, good sir?" he asked, swinging a leg over and sliding from Liadain's back. Shaking herself, she strode forward until she could sniff the skull. It was in perfect condition, the color a little dark with age. What was astounding, however, was the brilliant splash of blood red, as fresh as a new wound, that radiated out from one of the empty eye sockets. It was as if the wolf had just died moment before, the red was so vivid.

"Aye, tis. From one of the last natural wolves killed in this country. It was said to weep blood in its sadness at seeing its kin butchered. It cried and cried, so much and so long, that the blood stained its fur and bone for all eternity."

Grimacing, Desmond picked up the skull, finding it bigger than he had anticipated. It must have been an enormous beast, though not nearly the size of Gwyn's monster wolves. He felt a horrible flashback rising from the depths of his mind, but Liadain moved to lay her wedge-shaped head over his shoulder, her presence alone enough to keep the awful memories at bay.

"It almost looks big enough to be a mask."

"Tis definitely big enough for ya," the old man said, eager to possibly sell such a macabre thing, that was plain to see. But Desmond was shaking his head, turning to face his guardian.

"Not for me. For her." He slipped it over her head and to his surprise, it fit perfectly, settling over the doe's own head. When she blinked at him out of the empty sockets, he felt a little unnerved. It suited her, more than he cared to think about. The doe danced on her hooves, shaking her head as if to test how securely the skull was placed. When it didn't budge, she seemed satisfied.

"Old stories tell of the first guardians wearing the bones of the wolves as armor. Seeing the bones of their comrades made Gwyn's wolves hesitate enough to leave an opening for their deaths." The old man smiled, showing all the empty spaces where all those teeth should have been. "Or so the stories go. Who knows?"

Pulling out some coin, he set it on the man's table, where the skull had sat, thinking long and hard on the man's words. He'd never heard those tales before, but it was an interesting thing to ponder, and potentially some use to Soibhan and the rest of the splinter cell. "Who knows indeed."

Smiling, he bid the man good day, turning Liadain back. Home awaited them, and she seemed so satisfied with her prize that Desmond thought a shorter trek through the market was okay for once.

FIN