Olvar gave a small nod at her explanation. He knew all too well about the oppression of curses, but if the Rose family curse had slipped over time, would his own? And what would be the outcome? Would the effect become less frequent, as it had in the Rosenites, or would it become unpredictable? The idea brought a shudder, but he chose not to dwell.
His attention was taken instead by Gaea’s surprising knowledge of DaeLuin, or rather, of its demise. He felt a hole open up in his belly, brow furrowing. The lycan’s gaze wandered elsewhere. From the sound of it, his brother was likely dead. He was the last of his family name. The duty was his to wear it proudly. The shifter stood a bit taller as Gaea continued her explanations. More family then. It seemed these twins had family in every corner of the land.
“For a long time it was just me, yes. Since I left home. I worked with mercenaries for a while, then tried to join a pack of other shifters. Neither worked out, and I only ended up making enemies in both instances. I decided that taking life as it came was the best option for me, but even that proved difficult. I was captured and held prisoner, but eventually the knight keeping me took me as a student…” He still wasn’t sure why. Simon had been given every chance to run him through, take his life, make the world safer from one more werewolf. But he hadn’t, even when Olvar pushed him to the edge running his mouth off. The lycan shook his head. Best not to dwell. “Now I have Ojuk, but he isn’t very good conversation. You get used to it.”
—
The rainforest was a much calmer travel for Olvar. Though his last experience in a rainforest had almost ended in the loss of his life, it felt good to be out of the relentless sun of the plains. Not to mention the natural cover that hid them from sight. He could see the outline of Ojuk ahead, but the faint dappling of his coat did wonders for his camouflage, and surely anyone passing by unawares would miss him. The warg was still traveling strong, carrying Gemma, Olvar’s armor, and now his overcoat. Insects couldn’t get through the tough leather to bite at him, but the muggy air was too much to bear with an unnecessary layer.
To rest his shoulder and his aching feet, he’d stopped by the river, setting Gaea carefully on the bank. He crouched, cupping water in his hands to drink while the girls shared from the canteen. Water dripped from his lips as he lifted his head, eyeing the passing ents. “Treefolk” as his mother would have said. “Nothing that big is totally harmless,” Olvar answered, then bent for another drink. Hearing the direction of the twins’ chatting, followed by the shuffling of clothing, he took his time quenching his thirst, eyes politely averted. They narrowed at the jab from Gemma.
He sat back on the bank, making a point of watching the ents with a huff. He rolled his eyes at the bubbly nymph’s teasing. “I’m sure you can hold her up, have confidence in yourself.” He stood. He might as well practice the knightly vows Simon intended to have him take. “I’m going to bathe further downriver,” he informed the pair, a plan that was interrupted before he could even take a step away. Gaea gasped, Olvar turned, and without thinking he threw hands out to catch her, one on her shoulder and one on her side. The man sighed, giving Gemma a pointed look before adjusting his grip to just her arms. “One moment then,” he murmured to Gaea, then eased her back down to the bank. If it was insisted upon, he would assist. To spare them from the water, the knight in training stripped out of his clothes, bundling them carefully and setting them back from the bank. He entered the water first, then offered a rough hand to Gaea. “I won’t drop you,” he promised, “unlike certain siblings you may have.”
It was somewhat unnerving to be without a weapon on hand in the company of others. Perhaps it was years of suspicion ingrained in him, or perhaps it was the mystery of what lived in the rainforest, just out of sight. It could even be that he was simply unaccustomed to having his life so obvious before near-strangers. Every scar in his skin carried a story, good or bad, and he wasn’t sure he was terribly fond of those stories seeing the light.
“Wash up quickly then,” he encouraged. Already the shifter was ready to move on.