Jaspen

Sweede and I both put our cloak hoods up as we walked through the very quiet town. A few grim faced towns people passed by hardly noticing us making me more uncomfortable with the rising situation.

"What's wrong? You're drawing attention with acting so skittish," he said in a hushed tone.

I tried to calm my nerves, but the fact that this group has the backing of the local lord was hard to swallow. The Keltcher had been dangerous, but not as dangerous as having backing. This was going to be a different kind of battle.

We didn't go to the inn right away. We went to what was called the shambles where our kind lived. Smoke still coiled into the air as small embers burned, but I stopped almost in unison with Sweede when we saw the headless mangled body on the ground. Even from where we stood, I knew it was a werewolf. I had learned that their kind when killed transformed into a grotesque sight between wolf and man.

"Sweede?" I whispered.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His fists were clenched and his jaw set taunt his teeth grinding together. His usual casual lopsided grin was gone and he looked feral with his eyes blazing with trying to keep his wolf in check.

"Not now," I hissed.

He stalked forward and I glanced around to make sure we were alone. We were too exposed. Anyone would guess we were dark bloods and I had a few questions I wanted to answer before making a report back to Quinn.

He kneeled beside the corpse and I waited patiently. I knew he needed his space to mourn his pack mate regardless who it was. He fist pounded the broken cobblestone beside the form as he let out a tortured half howl. I ran forward.

"Sweede," I said resting my hand on his shoulder.

He rolled his shoulder harshly out of my grip.

"Sweede, we have to be quiet."

He looked at me with an unreadable look on his face.

"Those blokes are going to pay," he growled. "You want to know why you didn't get your report? He's dead."

He flailed his hand wildly at the dead corpse. "This is Oliver."

I looked at him curiously. Without a head how was he so sure?

"How-"

"His golden coat… no one else has one like it and you forget me heightened sense of smell. All of us have a unique scent even being masked in death…. I know it's him."

Oliver was his uncle and had been more loving towards Sweede than his own father. This was a hard blow for him. I knew the pain he was feeling well.

"Sweede, we need to go. We need to be able to gather more intelligence and being here is only going to expose us."

He didn't move or respond.

"You cant help him if you are dead."

He stood and looked at me with a new sobered expression.

"Use your fire," he muttered. "He deserves that at least…please."

I did as he asked manipulating a small flame in my hand and sending our fallen comrades off to the other side. I hope that he found peace in Zanti's realm.