The minute Scarlet saw the boy on the ground and the man standing over him with a whip, she knew her trading trip wasn’t going to go as planned.
He wasn’t a small man either; he was tall and thick and broad shouldered, with a black wide-brimmed hat and a neat stone-colored beard on his face. The boy on the other hand, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, was on the smaller side and frighteningly skinny, like Scarlet could count his ribs if she wanted to, clothed in tattered, stained rags, his body covered in bruises and dried blood, his almost beige hair even tore out in certain places, his arm raised to fight off the blow from the whip that was about to descend down on him.
Scarlet lept into action without really thinking, leaving her cart to charge at the brute, the hood of her cloak falling back to reveal short chestnut hair, grabbing his giant fist, and ripping the whip from his hands. “What are you thinking, beating a boy like that?!”
“This doesn’t concern you!” The man bellowed, reaching for the whip, but Scarlet jumped away before he could get it, placing herself between him and his victim. “Woman, do you not realize what he is? Don’t you see the collar around his neck?”
That was when she saw that there in fact was a leather collar locked around the boys’ neck, a few enchantments inscribed on it, marking him as a shapeshifter, werewolf most likely. Probably captured in a skirmish and turned into the town’s servant and apparent whipping boy.
“I don’t care what he is,” Scarlet declared, “You don’t beat a child like that.”
Just then the boy whimpered, causing Scarlet to turn around. He was staring up at her with wide, pleading blue eyes, but at the same time scampered back in fear.
Scarlet whirled around. “Where’s your mayor? I’d like to speak to him.”
“Why, he’s probably having a business meeting at the tavern, of course!” The man jeered.
Of course. Scarlet thought. Turning to the boy one on the ground, she held out her hand. “Come on.”
After helping him up, Scarlet and the boy left the male—calling him a ‘man’ seemed repugnant to her—standing there. She would need to speak to the village mayor to be successful in what she was planning.
#
Scarlet and the boy found the mayor at the local tavern, at the bar, spilling half of the pint he brought up to his mouth.
Charming. Scarlet thought, before telling the boy. “Stay where I can see you.” He nodded timidly.
As she approached the bar, she called out politely, “Excuse me? Mayor Lightfoot?”
Mayor Lightfoot turned around, sloshing out the rest of his drink, clearly drunk. “Ey, missy?”
“My name’s Scarlet. I’m a trader.” She introduced herself, “Would you mind if I sit down?”
The mayor gestured widely with the glass holding his hand. “Help yourself.”
Scarlet did, setting down next to the mayor and got right down to business. “That’s, ah, a fine-looking werewolf slave you’ve got out there. I was hopping you’d be willing to trade for him.”
Mayor Lightfoot let out a bellowing guffaw. “And why would you want to do that? What use would a scrawny wolf boy be to you?”
Well, maybe if you actually fed him, he wouldn’t be so scrawny. Scarlet thought.
“I could use an assistant.” Was what she said out loud, “Someone to fetch and carry for me. Look, I have a barrel full of gold jewels in my wagon, got ‘em from a fancy manor a few villages over. Common folk don’t have much use for those sorts of things, but if you were to give me that boy, I’d let you have the whole lot.”
Showing how little the boy meant to him, the mayor agreed to the trade, clapping Scarlet on the back saying, “Good luck! You’re gonna need it!”
#
Less than ten minutes later the boy was rolling down a good-sized barrel from Scarlet’s cart, having a bit of a time doing so.
Here,” Scarlet said, began to approach the wagon.
“No need to bother, Miss Scarlet.” The mayor grogged, “He can do it, he’s just being lazy. Put your back into it, boy!”
The boy cringed, but managed pick up the pace, rolling the barrel over to the mayor, who stuck in his thick, greedy hand, pulling out a shining gold chain along with a gold and blue agate bracelet.
It killed Scarlet, watching him sift through the jewels. What she could have got for that through sell and trade could’ve kept her going for months. In fact, if she played her cards right, she could’ve been a very wealthy woman. By all standards of commerce, she was getting the raw end of the deal and she knew it.
However, when the mayor handed over a ring with a small brass key, the key to the teenager’s collar, she remembered why she was doing this and that helped to take the sting out it.
“Pleasure doing business with you, sir.” Scarlet lied, before gathering up the boy, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Since Scarlet had never really got a chance to unload, all she had to do was get the still nameless boy in the cart, and then they were on their way again.
#
They drove in silence for what felt like forever, Scarlet taking her eyes off the road to glance at her newfound charge. He was shaking in that ragged, threadbare tunic, from being cold, afraid, or both she couldn’t be sure.
She used the reigns to signal for the horse to stop. Her fingers went to her throat, her fingers untying the ribbon of her cloak. It had been a gift from her grandmother; fine dark blood red velvet, made large enough for her to wear as she got older. And just big enough for the small boy in front of her.
“Here,” she said, draping the cloak over him. He whimpered a little, bowing his head, but letting her put the cloak on. She wondered if he was an Omega. He was so docile. Or maybe the villagers had just beat him into submission. Pushing that thought aside, she cleared her throat. “You got a name?”
“Roland.” He answered softly.
“Well, Roland, I’m Scarlet, and I’m going to be looking after you until we figure out a plan.”
#
Scarlet drove as long as she could, before finally stopping for the night. After getting a fire going, her first priority was the collar. She sat Roland down, and leaned in, only for the child to pull back, clearly petrified. “It’s alright,” She soothed. “I’m just going to take a little look.” She took the key and put it in the lock, clicking it open and letting the collar fall to the ground.
The next thing she wanted to do was treat Roland’s wounds. Fortunately, after closer examination they weren’t that severe, mostly cuts and gashes, but what they lacked in quality they made up for in quantity, taking most of her medical supplies to treat. The worst thing was the chaffing around his throat from where the collar had dug in. She carefully applied ointment and wrapped cloth bandages wound the boy’s throat. Then she took out a small bag of rations, setting three long pieces of dried meat in front of him. “Eat them slowly, alright?” She told him.
Roland scooped up the offered meat and began scarfing it down with such relish its broke Scarlet’s heart. No one should ever be that hungry, much less a child. She was also worried he was going to make himself sick.
“Roland, Roland, slow down!” Scarlet urged, “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to tease you. You’re stomach not use to food, and if you eat too fast you could make yourself sick.”
Roland complied, slowing down. When he finished, he looked to Scarlet. “Why are you doing this? Why are you treating me so nice? Why did you take the collar off?”
Scarlet turned to face him. “Because, I have no quarrel with the shapeshifters, and even if I did, it was shameful the way those—people treated you. No one deserves that.” She adjusted the cloak that was still around Roland, “Now come on, let’s get some sleep.”
#
Around afternoon the next day, they arrived in the next town over and Scarlet found a spot in the marketplace to set up shop, pulling out her wears with Roland trying to help her.
“You don’t really have to do that, Roland.” Scarlet assured him, holding out her hands in front of her as he laid down a piece of fine red leather, “In fact, sit down, you still need to rest.” Even with her care the night before, the poor boy looked like he was about to fall over at any moment.
Roland climbed back up in the front of the wagon, wrapping scarlet’s cloak tighter around himself.
It pained Scarlet to watched. She desperately wished she had something to replace the ragged clothes he came in, something that provided better protection from the autumn chill.
That was when a smartly dressed man came up, carefully examining the leather, his eyes widening. “Dear woman does you realize what you have on your hands here?!” He exclaimed.
Scarlet smiled. This was a nice change of place. Usually, people who recognized a high-quality good tried to act like it was trash to get it for a cheaper price. Plus, while it was bit prideful, she liked someone noticing her skill. “Let me guess; fabric merchant?”
Instead of answering her question, the merchant said, “I’ll give you twelve gold coins for it.”
Scarlet almost told him they had deal, then she realized this merchant could be the answer to her problems. “Actually sir, I have a better idea…”
#
Scarlet was by no means an expert seamstress; however, by the next morning she had made something wearable out of the moss green wool she traded the leather for. Roland seemed perfectly happy with it.
“How does it feel?” Scarlet asked groggily, sitting on the edge of the bed. She had managed to secure them a room at the local inn the night before. It looked like a decent bed and food might have done Roland some good; he was looking pinker, a little less lethargic. “Is it warm enough?”
“More than warm enough.” Roland smiled, “I—I don’t know how to thank you enough, Scarlet.” Really, he didn’t. He actually felt guilty; Scarlet had already been so kind and unbelievably generous, and now she had taken from her livelihood just to make sure he had proper clothes.
“You can thank me by sitting down a minute and talking to me.” Scarlet said, patting on the edge of the bed.
As the boy sat down next to her, she began, “I know you’re probably not going to want to talk about the things that happened to you in that village, but I need to know…how did you wind up in that village?” What happened to your pack?”
Scarlet had a long time to think and pray about what to do with Roland while she sewed. There had to people out there missing him, wondering what become of him. She had to at least try to return him to his pack.
“I—I don’t know.” Roland admitted, “Not any more at least. We were migrating to our summer hunting grounds when we were attacked. There was shouting, men with muskets starting firing, the Alpha and Beatas charged while the Nannies got the pups away. I was with them at the back when someone threw this net and then these men were on top of me, holding me to the ground….” His face was pained, on the edge of tears.
\Scarlet put out a reassuring hand. “It’s alright, you don’t have to say anymore, I get the idea. Roland, you said you were migrating…if you were with the pack, where would they be now?’
#
Of course, the pack’s migration route would take them not only far off Scarlet’s usual trade routes but through known bandit territory. Because nothing could ever be easy.
Sitting at a table at the inn with the map she managed to procure, she traced out their new route. Her plan was, at least for now, stay a few more days in town, sell as much as she could and give Roland a chance to get his strength back. According to Roland the pack moved seasonally, and they should be on their way to the winter hunting grounds.
She looked up across the table from her at Roland, who was currently stirring the stew in front of him, not eating it, just staring.
“Come on, Roland.” Scarlet said encouragingly, “You need to eat.”
“What if they don’t want me back?” Roland asked, softly.
He spoke so softly that Scarlet almost missed what he said. Almost. “What?”
“What don’t they want me?” Roland asked, “Because I got captured. Because it was my fault. Because—”
“Hold on there,” Scarlet said, moving her hand in a motion for him to stop, which caused the boy to wince. Scarlet’s heart broke, and she made a note to be more careful with her movement. “Roland, I want you to understand what happened to you was not your fault. You were attacked, you said it yourself, it was chaos, you had no control over what happened to you. And you survived.” Slowly, she reached out with a hand, placing it on his arm, “You made it out of there, alright? I got you out. I’m sure your family, your whole pack, is just going to be relieved to have you back.” She had been trying to avoid thinking about what his family was going through. The worry and grief his absence must be causing them.
From the look on his face, Roland was less than convinced by her words.
“Alright, if we get there and they turn you out, you can stay with me.” Scarlet offered.
Roland’s head jerked up. “You mean it?”
“Sure,” Scarlet, “I’ve always wanted an apprentice. Actually, I shouldn’t say that, I never thought about it before, but if I had, I’m sure I would want one.”
Roland smiled sheepishly.
“There you go.” Scarlet smiled back, before getting more serious, taking his hand, and squeezing it. “You won’t be alone. I promise.”
#
Roland continued to grow stronger every day.
After a little less than a week in the village, he had more stamina, was already starting to gain weight and his wounds were healing up nicely. Scarlet was even feeling better about letting him help with the cart, since she couldn’t seem to stop him, though she was only letting him help with small tasks for now.
Unfortunately, it was harder to tend to his mind.
He was terrified of every stranger in a way that went beyond healthy weariness, which was not helpful in a trade that involved regularly encountering strangers. He couldn’t walk past large men without trembling. Scarlet quickly learned not to raise her voice, and to restrict her movements.
And then there were the nightmares. He rarely cried out or cried, but he would be skittish and on edge for hours afterwards. Sometimes Scarlet would wake to find him tossing and turning in his bed.
It was one of these times, Scarlet could take it no longer, nudging him awake. “Roland. Roland, you need to wake up.”
Roland woke with a start, staring up at Scarlet, confused and afraid.
“You were having another nightmare.” Scarlet explained. “You want to talk about it?”
Roland looked like he didn’t know how to answer, but desperately wanted to give the right one.
“You can say no.” Scarlet told him, “I doubt it will make everything better anyway. But maybe…maybe it would help.”
“I don’t…I don’t think I want to.” Roland said softly.
Alright,” Scarlet agreed.
To her surprise, Roland reached out for her hand. “Can you—can you stay though?” He didn’t want to be alone.
Scarlet smiled. “Yes,” She agreed softly, “Yes, I can.”
#
The next day was the day they started for the winter hunting grounds. Once again, they found themselves driving in silence, Scarlet with her gun in her lap, on high alert. Unexpectedly, Roland spoke up. “I was a servant.”
“Huh?” Scarlet responded, jutting her head up, not expecting anything to be said.
“In the village.” Roland said, putting a hand to his lip and beginning to bite his nails, “They used me for a servant. Well, they didn’t pay me or anything…you already know this, don’t you?”
“I figured that out already, yeah.” Scarlet admitted.
“Anyone who needed me could use me.” Roland continued, “They just passed me around to one another. Some would just leave me be while I worked, others…” He bit at a fingernail, “The butcher was the worst.”
“The butcher,” Scarlet repeated, “Was that, ah…” Her voice trailed off, not wanting to rehash how they met.
“No, no, that was the local miller, believe it or not.” Roland said, looking far off, “The butcher left town just before you rescued me. Something about a sick mother. I feel sorry for the woman but honestly…I was so relieved when he left. If I so much as looked at him too long he’d back hand me, box my ears. Always gave good scraps, though. I did miss those.”
Scarlet felt like she was going to be sick, her hands gripping tighter on the reigns, her knuckles losing what little color they had. Seeing this Roland instinctively shrieked back, wincing.
“I’m not mad at you, Roland.” Scarlet assured him, “I’m mad at how those—people treated you.” After a beat, she added, “Thank you—for talking about this with me.”
Roland finally looked at her again. “Thank you for letting me talk.”
#
Scarlet let out a long hiss as the brute’s fist contacted her face again. She knew the pain would past, but right now it hurt.
Two days into their journey, bandits ambushed them. Even though Scarlet had her musket within reach, there had been five of them, big men too, and now Scarlet found herself futilely throwing punches as mountain of man in sleeveless leather pinned her to the ground while another man ripped her cloak off her.
“No!” Scarlet screamed in spite of herself, raising up and trying to grab the cloak back. She knew it wasn’t worth dying over, but it was the last thing she had of her grandmother and the emotional part of her was overriding reason at the moment. At least until the man pinned her down while the others laughed.
Then the howl came, and no one was laughing. In fact, no one was making a sound at all.
It was a discomforting noise, something about it that would make the bravest warrior turn tail and run while crying for his Mama. Scarlet’s heart froze for a moment, as the bandit who took her cloak dropped it to the ground, backing away slowly with the rest of his crew before they all ran off back into the trees. Because, you know, there are no wolves in the woods.
Scarlet froze with terror for a moment, before she remembered: She was traveling with a werewolf. Breaking into a smile she said, “Good thinking there, mister.” A large beige wolf lumbered over to her, licking her battered face where her eye was swelling almost shut. “You alright, Roland?”
“I’m more worried about you.” Roland said through gritted teeth as he pulled Scarlet into a sitting position by her sleeve.
“If I can get some salve for my face, I’ll be fine.” Scarlet said, “Do you know what they took?”
“I’m not sure,” Roland admitted, “But I—I think they got most of the money.”
Scarlet looked at the chaos around and saw her money pouch left on the ground with three copper coins. She sighed. “Come on, “Scarlet said, standing up, “Maybe there’s enough left in the cart we can break even in the next town.”
#
With not enough to pay for a safe place to stay, they camped outside the town that night, Scarlet using the last of her salve supply to treat her wounds. Thankfully, the worst thing really was her eye, though the swelling had gone down enough for her to open it. “Are you sure you weren’t hurt?”
“I transformed the moment they attacked.” Roland said, “They never got the chance to touch me.” His clothing though, hadn’t faired nearly as well, being held together by pins.
Finishing with her wounds, Scarlet said, “Come on, let me get a look at that shirt.” She had just enough thread left she could maybe cobble something back together. Taking off her cloak, she traded it for the shirt.
“Shouldn’t you save that?” Roland asked, when she pulled out a bobbin of thread, “Try to sell it?”
“I’ll figure something out.” Scarlet assured him, “I always have.” Honestly it was the story of her life.
Wrapping the cloak closer around him, Roland worked up the courage to request, “Scarlet, can I ask you something?”
“You just did, didn’t you?” Scarlet smirked, briefly glancing up before returning to her work, “Of course you can.”
“Why did you fight so hard for this cloak?” Roland asked. It seemed like such a silly thing, risking your life for a cloak, even one as nice as that. And Scarlet was anything but silly.
Scarlet looked up, stopping what she was doing. “When I was a girl…there was no one I was closer to than my grandmother, my father’s mother. She’s the one who made me that cloak. She made it just before I began my apprenticeship. She was so proud of me. “Her voice trailed off for a minute, “But now she’s gone and…that cloak’s the only connection I have to her. With any of my family really. My father’s gone; I rarely see my mother…it’s just me now.” There something incredibly sad and lonely in saying it out loud, but there it was.
Roland’s face fell.
“But hey, at least I got you.” Scarlet told him. It wasn’t platitude. She meant it.
#
If one must explain one’s injuries are the result of a bandit attack enough times, people will take pity on one and buy one’s wares.
Scarlet was finding that out as she handed the set of knives to the local tanner after telling her story for the fifth time that afternoon, and he gave her a handful of sliver back.
“Thank you very much, good sir.” Scarlet smiled, handing the money to Roland, “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” This time she meant it. Aside from needing the money, he had been a very nice man.
Roland put the money in the pouch when he heard a voice behind him say, “Oi! You! Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
Roland turned around and found a broad-shoulder man dressed in traveling clothes, his heart falling as he recognized the butcher who left the village.
“Seriously,” The butcher said, “Where have I seen you before?” Then his face darkened. “Hey, wait a minute—”
Before Roland could stop him, he found himself being lifted up by the neck of his shirt, raised off the ground. “How did you get out here you mongrel?!” The butcher demanded, shaking the boy, “Ey?! What did you do?!”
Scarlet lept into action. “Hey!” She shouted, pulling Roland out of the butcher’s hold, “Hands off my brother!”
“That ain’t your brother.” The butcher protested harshly, “I remember that boy from my village. He’s a filthy—”
“I bought him from your mayor.” Scarlet gut him off, harshly, “If I want to adopt him as my brother, that’s my prerogative. Now get your filthy mitts off him before we have a real problem here!”
The butcher let go of the boy, stepping a few feet away as a few of the on-lookers clapped.
#
After mostly making up what they had lost, the pair headed out again. They traveled in silence, at least until Roland asked, “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” Scarlet asked.
“When you called me your brother?” Roland asked, “Did you mean it?”
“Well, yeah,” Scarlet admitted, “I mean, we’ve been traveling together for what, two weeks? I’ve gotten attached you, kid. You’re starting to become like the little brother I never had.”
Roland felt something strange going on his chest. “I’d be very lucky,” He said finally, “To have you for a sister.”
#
The pack came upon them by surprise.
They had slept in the wagon and suddenly Scarlet was woken up by something licking her face. “Roland?” She groaned, “What are you doing?”
“You’re going to want to wake up now.” She could hear Roland telling her, with a smile in his voice.
Scarlet’s eyes slowly opened, and she saw Roland in wolf form, which she was becoming accustomed to since the bandit incident. What she was not expecting, however, was the horse-sized black wolf standing next to him.
Scarlet jumped in fright, falling back in the wagon with a yelp.
“It’s alright.” Roland assured her, “This is my brother, the pack Alpha. Romulus, this is Scarlet, the woman I told you about.”
“Thank you for recusing my brother,” The wolf, Romulus apparently, said, “For caring for him.”
“Huh,” Scarlet responded, dumbstruck, “Don’t mention it.”
“I would like to do something to return the favor.” Romulus told her.
#
Three months later, Scarlet was traveling back through bandit territory. Things were going smoothly until she saw a man in the road. She maneuvered her cart to avoid him, seemed a good start as any, only for several men to come out of the trees, and the men to stand up.
However, before they could attack there were a series of long, haunting howls.
The bandits took off, leaving Scarlet alone with whatever made the howling. She turned around as she saw a party of about eight wolves, lead by Romulus. She smiled.
Every trader should be adopted by a werewolf pack.
As they started again a smaller beige wolf, big for a wolf, but still smaller than many of the wolves, came up alongside her. Scarlet smiled. “You want up here, little brother?”
“No thank you.” Roland smiled back, “I can keep up alongside you.”