Lark had seen the Gloamhounds in action twice. They were terrifying and vicious and almost unstoppable. She had seen six of them charge a front line and decimate hundreds of armored warriors in a matter of minutes. Magic was useless against them. Blades rarely pierced their skin. The only thing their enemies had to fight them were equally terrifying magical creatures. The gryphins, ridden by mad men, had been the only thing to stop the charge of the gloamhounds. The second time Lark saw the hounds they were on the run. Three bolted for cover in a valley below where a small triage tent had been set up. She only saw one make it to the rocks. The other two were slashed apart by razor sharp talons. She had never seen one in it’s human form.

  “I’ll give you a beer when you act like a gentleman,” Garrison said to his naked friend. “We have a lady present.” He tossed him a bundle of clothes he had returned with earlier.

  Jasper still made no motion to cover himself. “Poor the beer,” he said as he went back into the bedroom.

  Garrison looked at Lark from across the table. “You’ve seen the hounds fight,” he said.

  Lark nodded.

  “And you, sailor?” he asked Ian.

  “Only stories,” he said. “But I’ve faced gryphins, and lost.”

  “You are alive,” Jasper said, returning to the room, clothed this time. “You did not lose.” He had washed his face. In fact, it looked like he had dunked his whole head into the wash basin. Drops fell from the ends of his black hair which was cut short on the sides, but long and spikey on the top and back. His skin was tanned and his eyes were an intensely dark brown. His chest was broad, but unlike his animal alter ego, he was of average height and build. He sat at the table next to Garrison.

  “How is your wound?” Lark asked.

  “It is tender, but healed. You are the healer?” he said.

  “This is Lark Truedale,” Garrison said. “3rd Army healers. And this is Ian, First Fleet Navy.”

  Jasper looked at Lark and then over to Ian. His gaze was cautious, but curious. “Misfits all, then,” he said.

  “This is Lark’s farm. She owns the land surrounding, including the glad where we found you. But the townsfolk got spooked.”

  “I met the townsfolk. Not as nice as you described.”

  “Why are you here, Jasper?” Garrison said. “You were going home.”

  “I did go home,” he replied. “It’s not there anymore.”

  “Where was home?” Lark asked.

  “Trench Valley, to the south a ways,”

  “A very great ways,” Ian said.

  Jasper nodded.

  “Was there fighting there? Is the town gone?” Lark asked.

  “No, the only things they knew of war was human loss. But the house I grew up in belongs to my sister now. Her family was not welcoming. All of my friends are gone, dead, or changed. I decided I needed a new start. And I remembered the stories my mage friend used to tell on scouting missions. A lovely seaside town with friendly people and lots of thick forests.”

  “You should have come right to me,” Garrison said.

  “I…” Jasper took a long breath in and then an even longer swig of beer. “I got stuck. Maybe I needed that shot in the side. That’s how they got us to change back after weeks of the hound having free reign. A little shock.”

  “A big shock,” Garrison said. “And I know, they had me do it. You should have come to me. Now the idiots in town are scared a werewolf is here to eat their children.”

  “I was enjoying the freedom, and the sleep. I don’t sleep well in this form anymore.”

  Garrison rubbed his face. “You will stay at my parents’ place. We’ve got room, they will kill me, but they won’t say no.”

  “I didn’t come here to be a freeloader,” he said. “I want a new start, a job.”

  “Well, get in line, friend. That’s what we all want.”

  “I have an idea,” Lark said. “I think I know who can help. Do you trust me to bring another misfit into the group?”

  Steward Lang had dropped everything when Lark told him there was a soldier who needed help. He had dowsed the fire in the stove cooking his dinner, pulled on his brown robe and hitched his wagon in less than ten minutes. He didn’t even ask for details until they were on the way.

  When they arrived at the farm the sun was just setting. Laughter and the smell of cooking ham came from the kitchen. Inside, Jasper was still sitting at the table with a beer. His hair and dried and only laid down slightly more than it had before. Garrison and Ian were cooking.

  “Just in time,” Ian said. “It’s almost ready.”

  Steward Lang came in and sat down next to Jasper. He poured himself a beer from the jug and leaned forward.

  “She knows,” he said after a few long moments.

  Jasper’s eyes widened.

  Lark started to ask what she knew, but then she had the feeling that maybe the steward wasn’t talking about her.

  “How,” he asked. “She never saw me. How do you even know?”

  “I felt your… unique presence a week ago,” Land said.

  “Damn mages,” Jasper muttered.

  “A week!” Garrison said. “You’ve been lurking around for a week?”

  “I was trying to find some pants, you know. I don’t exactly make a great first impression when I transform.”

  “Liar, you said you were stuck.”

  “That too.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Who else knows?” Garrison asked the steward.

  “No one else, knows,” Jasper said. “She never saw me.”

  “Miss Frame is a sensitive soul,” the steward said, using a common way of saying someone had magical awareness but was not trained.

  “Letty?” Lark said. “The tavernkeeper’s niece.”

  “Ah, her name is Letty,” Jasper said whistfully. “Why is she so sad? I must know,”

  “She’s not sad,” Ian said. “She seems quite the opposite most of the time.”

  “You’ve been stalking the taverkeeper’s niece?” Garrison said. “You were supposed to be the reasonable one of us two, remember!”

  “I left reason across the sea, evidently,” Japer said with a hand over his face.

  “You wish to stay here?” Steward Lang asked.

  “Yes,” Jasper answered. “I have nowhere else to go.”

  “Are you willing to work?”

  “Yes, eager to work.”

  “Then I have a proposition for you.”

  Jasper took the hand from his face and looked very seriously at the steward. “I’m not made for stewardship,” he said honestly.

  “That’s not what I’m asking. But, the chapel needs care. Repair work, cleaning, errands. I can give you room and board, and help you find work in town for hire. Many people need help, but there is not much money. I think that will change soon, but not without help.”

  “Yes,” Jasper said quickly. “Yes, I want that.”

  “There are stipulations,” the steward continued. “You will live as a man, not a beast while in our town.”

  Jasper’s excited expression grew more serious. “I am both man and hound, I cannot be one or the other.”

  “That is not what I’m asking. I am stating that the hound must reside in the woods. Lark’s woods here are ideal. Make this the hound’s refuge. Leave his tracks and scent far from the farms and roads.”

  “I can do that,” Jasper said.

  “Also, after six months, you must come forwards and tell the townsfolk your story.”

  “No,” he siad. “They will hate me.”

  “You can come forth in chapel. By that time they will know you. Your friends can be there. You cannot live a lie here, but I will not make you tell your story until the fall.”

  Jasper nodded. “I guess I’ll have to work on my charming personality.’

  “Youre screwed, my friend,” Garrison said, but he smiled when he said it and the friends shared a push and a shove across the table like siblings.

  “And, you are required to speak to Miss Frame.”

  “What, oh no. I’m not worth… That’s not a good idea.”

  “I will introduce you,” the steward said with a grin.

  That evening was one of the best evenings she had spent since returning home. The four men, all so different, found common ground in their experiences. Garrison loosened up and a glimmer of the silly, mischievous boy she had known shone through. Ian laughed loud and long at everyone’s stories and told wild tales of his own. He pulled his sling off and let his arm rest on the table. Lang surprised her most of all. He was insightful, but understanding. After a beer he pulled the eyepatch off and slipped it in his pocket. Garrison made a joke, everyone laughed, the steward most of all. Jasper raised a glass to fallen friends and they shed tears and told stories until it grew late.

  Lark stood leaning on her front porch as the group piled into the steward’s wagon.

  “To Lady Lark!” Jasper said. “Our Lady of the forest, healer of dogs, grower of pretty things!”

  Garrison joined in, “May she never see our faults!”

  “Goodnight, lads,” she said. “Be good.”

  “Never!” shouted Garrison.

  Lark slept well that night.

  The next three days Lark worked hard with her seedlings. She constructed small paper pots, filled them with her potting mix and when she had enough to fill the cart, she pulled out her grandfather’s seeds. She pulled out several common herbs, a few flowers, especially marigolds, which kept insects at bay in a garden, and some spinach, collards, and onions. She placed the seeds with care then took a moment with each pot, germinating the seed, spreading it’s roots deep, and creating a healthy, strong seedling. It was glorious work.

  By wednesday of that week, she had a cart full of carefully cultivated, lovingly cared for, and neatly labled plants to sell on Sunday. She also had quite a few more tulips ready to bloom. She left some seedlings in the greenhouse for her own use. She didn’t have enough magical energy left to sprout her vegetable garden yet, so she pulled those and planted them in larger trays she found stacked in the greenhouse. She started tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, carrots, potatoes, and more. She would work on them with her grower’s magic tomorrow when she had more energy for it. She had not forgotten her promise to her grandmother to use her magic energy wisely.

  Having her seedlings ready and growing, she finally got to the chore of cleaning up the guest room in the cottage. The old blankets where they had laid Jasper in his hound form were covered in blood, dirt and fur. They would need to be soaked and scrubbed. As she picked up the blanket something small and white fluttered down to the floor. Lark picked it up. A burst of joy spread through her body. A silvershade bloom! It was small and barely more than a bud. It must have stuck to Jasper’s fur when they moved him. Tears fell down her cheeks.

  “They are back, grandfather,” she said.

  She trimmed the stem of the precious bloom, as her grandfather taught her, and wrapped the end in moist paper and tied it with twine. She then slipped it into the pouch at her waist.

  That afternoon, she found she had all but exhausted her magical energy, but her physical energy was soaring, so she headed in to town. Garrison had stopped in yesterday and given her an update on Jasper. He was doing well at the chapel, but had still not talked to the tavernkeeper’s niece, who he had evidently spotted one evening while exploring the town in his hound form. She had been reading and crying behind the tavern.

  The day was warm and it struck Lark that it had been exactly one week since she had arrived. It had been quite a week. She brought her basket and a few of the tulip bouquets that were already in bloom. Her first stop was Mr Quade’s, and after a heartfelt greeting by Ramond she put her basket on the counter and saw the shopkeeper’s face brighten.

  “I have a surprise for you!” he said. “Come with me.”

  She followed him to the back room, which was intensely neat and organized. In the middle of the space was an empty display rack. It had two rows of slots, perfect for bouquets. Across the top, a wood sign said, “Fresh flowers,” and small colorful daisies had been painted around the words. Her mom had painted them.

  “It’s been in the storage shed out back.” he said. “After the market on sunday, I took it out and cleaned it up. The side needed a repair, but other than that it’s good as new. Still lovely, shall we put it on the front porch?”

  She cried a little for the second time that day as they set the display outside the door and arranged the tulips. They didnt’ have enough to fill it, but it was a good start.

  “We will see what I can get for them,” he said. “But I’ve already had old customers ask if we were going to start carrying Truedale flowers again now that you were back.”

  “Thank you so much,” Lark said.

  Raymond whined and rubbed his big head against her knee.

  “Raymond likes flowers, what can I say.”

  She said a heartfelt goodbye to Mr Quade and continued across the green toward the chapel. She noticed that new “off the grass” signs had been placed.

  She found Jasper on the roof of the chapel, a tool in his hand and a smile on his face.

  “Hello Lady Lark!” he called. “My savior and gracious landlady!” He ignored a perfectly good ladder and jumped down from the roof, landing with the grace of his other self.

  “Landlady?” Lark asked. “Are you moving in?”

  “Sort of,” he said in a quiter tone. “Lang and I have been discussing my ideal schedule, and we agreed that I would have… off… Thursdays and Fridays. Is it alright if I stop by on Thursday morning, on my way?”

  “You are always welcome in the forest,” she said. “To be honest I feel a little awkward about the fact that I own it. I never considered it a legal part of the farm’s land. It’s just the forest.”

  “You are it’s caretaker then, well, you and the strange little man.”

  “That is Twig, you should visit him. He will like you.”

  “There is a cave to the north west of the farm, much further into the forest past Twig’s cabin. There is a stream and good hunting. It would be an idea place to rest for a couple of days.”

  “That sounds perfect,” he said.

  “Will you stop back by on Friday? Perhaps we can have dinner. Garrison can be on hand, if he’s needed?”

  “Ah,” he said. “I have been worried about that. What a great plan.”

  “You’ll invite the others? It was a good group.”

  “Of course,” she siad.

  And then he hugged her. It was a happy, hug, and reminded her so much of Raymond headbutting her knee that she laughed outloud.