29. Owen

Owen stood alone as people rushed around him in a strange dream. He couldn't make them out. He only knew they were strangers to him, moving so quickly, he could hardly see their faces. A green hue emanated from his feet, spreading out as if the color sprang from him.

He whirled around, wondering where he was. Then something brightened, the green beneath his feet intensifying. Like a web, it spiraled out, illuminating the ground and the people around him, but they were all gray, and something didn't feel right.

"You're not ready," came a whisper, sounding almost like the shadow man's voice. There was something familiar about it, as if it was part of his own heartbeat. "Go back, Owen."

Turning again, he saw a hooded being in a bright robe. The being held its hand out to him, and for a moment, peace surrounded Owen, wrapping him in a warm blanket. His pain was gone, and his mind was no longer weary, his heart no longer worried. The hooded being offered him love and grace, forgiveness and peace. But when he walked forward, he found an invisible barrier barred him from meeting with this peaceful figure.

Then something in his heart hurt, as the faint sound of Colt's voice echoed from all around, and the pain started again as he stepped back. The hooded figure grew smaller as Owen turned and ran, away from the blur of people, away from the gray world where there was no color.

"I'm not ready."

Owen's mind left the mysterious dream. A fire crackled nearby, and he wrinkled his nose at the smell of something cooking. He moved his fingers, and they curled against soft blankets, but also someone's hand, which squeezed him gently.

"There we go," came a gentle voice.

He slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could make out a woman sitting next to him. He blinked several times until he could see her clearly. Brown curly hair fell to her shoulders. She wore a simple green dress.

The woman smiled warmly as the candlelight sparkled in her dark-brown eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Owen swallowed. His throat was parched. "I'm fine, I think," he whispered hoarsely. He looked over to find Gilda and Brom standing nearby, and Colt sitting beside him, holding his hand.

"Gave us quite a scare, there," Brom said, his blue eyes twinkling in the dim light.

Owen breathed out and opened his mouth, "Still alive."

They all laughed and waited for him to become more awake before they sat him up in the bed. Owen was able to take in his surroundings, though his mind still felt fogged.

"Why does it feel like I've been smoking herbs?" he asked, his voice weak.

The woman tilted her head to the side. "That would be my doing. To help stave off the infection in your wound."

"Are you the one who saved me?"

She nodded. "I'm Agnes. My husband and daughter found you and brought you here."

Owen winced as he looked at the bandage wrapped around the right side of his chest and shoulder. His whole body ached, and even his left arm felt as though it had taken a blow. At the moment, he couldn't recall everything that had happened, or perhaps he didn't want to. He looked around, taking in the small room that held a hearth, table, and another bed.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"We're safe," Gilda responded.

Owen put a hand to his head. "How long have I been out?"

"About a day and a half," Colt said, tilting his head to gaze at him. "You were in and out with the fever."

He looked at the window to see the orange burn of evening.

"Thirsty," Owen rasped.

"Here." Gilda brought a cup of water to his lips, and he gulped it down. Then she brought up a spoon from a bowl. "It's just broth."

With Colt's help, Owen sat up slightly against the pillows and drank a few spoonfuls.

"That's a good sign," Agnes said. "An appetite means you're healing. I have to say, I'm impressed by the fact you resisted the poison."

"What do you mean, poison?" Owen asked.

"Horggs blood is poison to us. Touching it can cause reactions to the skin, and the knife it pierced you with was tainted."

"Horggs…" At the time, Owen had not been able to make the connection, as the giant man had looked oddly different from the Horgg drawing that Amias had given him in Milarc. "That was a Horgg?"

"Yeah," Brom said. "Makes me want to give you some kind of medal for standing up to the thing."

"Thank you," Owen said to Agnes. "I don't know how to repay you."

She smiled and got to her feet. "There's no need. But my husband would like to talk with you when you're feeling up to it. He's very intrigued by you and your friends." She looked around at them. "I'll let you all get some rest. We can talk in the morning."

After she left the room, the events of what had happened were coming back to him now. Glancing up at Gilda and Brom still by his bedside, Owen said, "I thought you both were dead until I saw you running."

"If it hadn't been for Brom, I would have been," Gilda replied.

Rather than make a remark, Brom smiled warmly.

"How did you get away?"

Gilda caught Colt's eye and smiled. "I'll tell you in a bit. Right now, you need to rest and eat." She moved away and pulled on her cloak. "I need to get some more water for us. Brom, come with me?"

As soon as they left, Colt took Owen's hand again. "You had me scared there for a while."

Owen fiddled with the blanket. The warmth of the fire filled the room, but his bones were still cold from his brush with death. "I thought I died," he whispered, recalling the piercing sting of the knife and the man who had carried him into the darkness. "That thing, I thought it was going to maul me. I let my guard down."

"You were protecting us."

Owen reached up to touch his bandage but winced and drew it away. "Where are we?"

"Right near the ocean. Bridge and Agnes live here with their daughter. They found us and rushed you back here. Guess your shadow man led us to the right place after all."

Owen smiled, his chest igniting with hope. He blinked as he tried to think back to when he was injured. "One of them carried me here."

Colt nodded. "That was Bridge. It wasn't far of a walk, but we moved as fast as we could. Agnes removed the knife and cleaned you up. She told us there was a chance you might not survive because of the poison, but you proved her wrong."

When Owen looked up, their eyes met. The sweet taste of honey flowed around him with ease, and a sense of longing swept over him, so strong that he placed his hand on Colt's leg.

Colt laced his fingers into Owen's left hand, leaning forward to gently nuzzle his face against Owen's temple, careful of his wound. "I was afraid I'd hurt you if I tried to do this."

Closing his eyes, Owen buried his face against Colt's chest. "I want to feel you close, even if it pains me," he said, and Colt squeezed his leg gently.

Owen's stomach fluttered. Then another pain gripped him, one that was deep within his belly. "Uh…" he started.

"What?" Colt pulled away.

"I really have to piss."

Laughing, Colt helped him up to the side of the bed. Doing such a small act made Owen feel weak. Upon standing, spots rushed to his eyes, and his head felt light.

"I feel like I'm going to faint," he breathed.

"Just stay there." Colt grabbed a bucket from nearby and held it out.

Owen looked from the bucket to him. "What? You want me to use it here?"

Colt nodded. "You need to take it slow. You lost a good bit of blood."

With a sigh, Owen shifted on his hip. He grunted as he tried to pull his underpants down.

"Try to stand up and I'll just pull them down," Colt said. When Owen wrinkled his nose, he said, "Owen, let go of your pride. I've seen you naked plenty of times."

"It's not that, it's…" He shook his head. "Never mind."

"Alright to stay up?"

"Yes." No longer feeling faint, Owen took the bucket and made Colt turn away. When he was done, he reluctantly gave him the bucket and laid back down with a sigh. "That was draining. All from a stab wound."

"I get it. It can drain you. That's why you should eat and drink as much as you can, and get some rest."

Owen looked over at his left shoulder where the Horgg had attacked him with its claws. There was a bandage there as well, and the pain burned more than anything, the skin feeling tight. It seemed his arms were going to be full of scars in no time.

While Colt emptied the bucket outside the window, Owen attempted to eat more of the broth, but his left arm shook when he lifted the spoon, and the utensil dropped back into the bowl.

"Here, I'll help." Colt sat on the bed and brought the spoon up to Owen's lips, helping him until he ate it all.

When Gilda and Brom returned, Brom brought Owen a warm mug of green tea. Owen inhaled the fresh aroma and sipped it slowly. It trailed down his throat and warmed his stomach.

Gilda sat on his bed. "Do you need anything else?"

"No." Owen shook his head. "You've all taken good care of me." He shifted to look at Gilda. "I thought that Horgg got you back up on the hill."

"We ran down the hill and stayed quiet. That vile creature took off after you two, but sometime in the night, it came for us." Her eyes wandered past him. "The night was so dark, Owen. I opened my mind out of fear, and what came into it was awful. It made me relive moments in my past that pained me. Dread, affliction, loss. It was deep, not something that came from that giant, but something else." She sniffed and took his hand. "When the day broke, I never thought I'd be so happy to see Brom's face as I did then."

Owen stifled a laugh.

Her cheeks colored, and she smiled for a moment, then her brow furrowed again. "When I saw you get stabbed, I felt the pain of losing my child rip through me again. We're lucky, you know, that these people found us. I know it sounds selfish, but I couldn't bear to lose someone I love again."

He squeezed her hand. "I couldn't bear to lose you either. Or Colt or Brom."

Gilda smoothed back his hair. "Get some rest." She smiled before leaving his side and making her way to the bed near the window.

After Brom laid on the pallet beside her bed, Colt sat in a chair next to Owen in the candlelight. The bed he was on was stuffed with feathers and no doubt more comfortable than sleeping on a hard floor.

"You want to try and sleep in the bed with me?" Owen asked.

Colt looked over, his eyes tired. "No. It's a small bed. I'm afraid I may hurt you."

"I want you to. I don't care if it hurts."

"Owen…" He looked down and laughed nervously.

Leaning forward, Owen cocked his head to see his companion better in the dim light, only to see him wipe his eyes. "Colt?"

Owen had never seen Colt shed a tear, yet the man's eyes were glossy. The energy surrounding him yielded a mixture of yearning and fear.

Taking Colt's chin in his hand, Owen pulled his face up until their eyes met, and Owen caught the tears as they fell silently down Colt's cheeks. "I'm so sorry I worried you," Owen whispered. "I won't ever leave you again."

Colt let out a breath and hung his head in Owen's lap, pressing his lips against Owen's hands and wetting them with his tears.

The room was dimly lit. Owen had no trouble pushing the images of the graveyard aside as he smoothed back Colt's hair. But now, when all was settled and dark outside, the beastly Horgg flashed through his mind, glaring at him in a menacing way. Then came the memory of the knife as it punctured his shoulder, and the overwhelming smell of blood as he thought he might die. And given the injury, he wasn't sure if he would ever fully heal.

Then there was the dream. Strange and eerily real. He recalled the bright hooded figure reaching out its hand, and the strange feeling of peace that had fallen over him. But something had felt wrong, as the world in such a place was without color.

"I want you to sleep with me, Colt," Owen finally said.

Moving up, Colt pulled off his boots and set them to the side, then he moved onto the bed with Owen, laying on his side so they both had room, though Owen could only lay on his back. He knew Colt was on the edge of the bed, but his lover didn't seem to mind.

Rather than say anything more, Owen held onto Colt's hand and closed his eyes, grateful to be beside him.

After a night of blissfully dreamless sleep, Owen roused himself with more energy. His body ached, but he forced himself to get dressed with Colt's help. Then he sat near the hearth, gathering his energy, while Gilda brushed his hair. He soaked in the moment, the sensation of the brush and her fingers giving him goosebumps. Afterward, he felt well enough to walk into the main room of the house.

Agnes welcomed them all to the kitchen table with eggs, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, sausages, and scones, with jars of cream and blackberry jam. It looked like a feast compared to what they'd been eating lately. Around the room, Owen spotted a small tree sitting in the corner, decorated with colorful trinkets and a string of candies.

Of course, Winter's Solstice is tomorrow.

He'd kept track of the calendar every time he visited an inn, usually finding one on the wall near the clerk's desk. Agnes and Bridge's tree wasn't the usual fir tree, but rather something else. It looked almost like an apple tree, but Owen wasn't sure.

"Is that an apple tree?" Owen asked. "For Winter's Solstice?"

Agnes looked from Owen to the tree, then smiled. "Yes. We don't have firs around here, and one of our apple trees outside died, so we used it instead. I'm glad we could put it to good use one last time. Then we can chop up its wood and use it for fire." Agnes wiped her hands on her apron, then gestured at the table. "Please help yourself."

As they all sat down, the front door banged open, making Owen jump in his seat.

A young woman with a head of messy, dark wavy hair cropped below her ears barged in with a small dead animal in her hand. "Winds are fucking rough today," she blurted out, hanging a bow and quiver on a rack against the wall.

"Nel," Agnes started, "our guests are accompanying us for breakfast. Do take that around back."

The young woman looked up and raised her dark brows as she noticed Owen and the others. "Oh, apologies." She flashed a lopsided grin and left the room.

"My daughter," Agnes said, setting a pitcher of water on the table.

Brom nodded. "She's a good hunter, from what Bridge told me."

"Yes, she keeps us stocked up on meat." Agnes excused herself before leaving to one of the other back rooms. When she came back, a man followed her. He was tall and well-built. Light—but graying—hair fell to his broad shoulders, and he wore a soft green tunic over casual trousers.

Owen bowed his head respectfully. "Hello," he said.

"Good to see you up and about, Owen," the man said.

"You're Bridge?"

The man nodded and took his seat at the head of the table. Though small, they had arranged enough chairs around the table to all sit scrunched together. When Nel came back inside, she sat beside Bridge, and now Owen could see that she favored her mother's darker skin tone and eyes.

"It's good to meet such hospitable people this far out," Brom said. "Or any place, for that matter."

"We like to keep an eye on the graveyard," Bridge replied. "We won't turn anyone away if we feel they're good people, especially those who are Astran." He winked at Owen.

Owen stiffened, his forkful of eggs frozen midair. "How did—?" He glanced at his companions, who shrugged.

"It wasn't us," Colt muttered through his food. "It was Agnes. She knew."

It took him a moment to understand, but when he looked at Agnes, he felt a harmonious glow flowing from her, and with it, he caught wind of her energy: fresh fruit. "Are you Astran?"

Agnes nodded. "I am."

"I suppose I'm among good people, then."

"That you are. That makes three of us." She nodded at Gilda respectfully.

Owen glanced at Bridge's blue eyes and pale skin—the one feature that differentiated him from his wife and daughter's darker-toned features. The wrinkles in his face ran deep into his eyes and mouth, but his physique seemed sharp and able. A sense of familiarity ran through his memory, as he recognized the man as the one who had carried him from the graveyard.

"I owe you all my life," he said.

Bridge shook his head. "You owe us nothing, Owen. Saving someone from death's hand is the right thing to do." He took a swig from his cup and licked his lips. "Your friends tell me you're running from Hunters."

Owen cast his eyes to his companions, then back to Bridge. "Well, yes. And I'd hate to endanger you. There's a chance they could find us. We'll leave as soon as we can."

Agnes leaned her elbows on the table. "You will need to rest another day at least. Hunters concern us, but I think for now we're fine. We've lived here for over twenty years."

"That's a long time," Brom broke in.

"It's worked well for us." Bridge straightened. "But we want to give you time to get well for travel. Three days should be enough, unless you feel otherwise. We'll stock provisions for you, too."

"Two days should be plenty of time," Owen said. "I don't want to endanger you anymore than I possibly have."

Bridge nodded and leaned his arms on the table. "In the meantime, there's a hot spring nearby that we like to wash in. It's worth visiting while you're here. It'll aid in your healing."

"And we have an extra pair of boots you can have." Agnes smiled. "I was told you lost yours."

"I can't thank you enough," Owen said.