The Clan of Outcasts (Seasons 1 and 2)

Part 13: "Trust Me"

In the Forest, just a few days prior....

The squadron of soldiers milled uneasily about the camp.

"Trust no one," the Hunter had said. "Don't trust each other... not even your own eyes!"

Justin sighed and took a seat next to the fire. He had two hours before his shift on watch. The Hunter had not yet returned from recruiting Thugs at the Harbor, and they wanted to be ready when she did.

"Hey," a voice grunted, and a bowl of soup appeared at his elbow. Justin glanced up at the person who offered it. Pallon, his eyes sparkling in the firelight, stared at Justin with a blank, worn expression. No attempt at congeniality, Justin thought to himself. He accepted the cup of soup, the Hunter's admonishment ringing in his ears.

"Trust no one... Trust nothing... Not even your own eyes...."

He never got to taste the soup.

Pallon bounded to his feet and screamed, "FAIRIES!"

Before Justin could comprehend what he meant, somebody slammed into his back, sending the bowl tumbling and splashing to the ground.

A howl resounded through the air, and suddenly the camp seemed full of rushing, striking bodies. Justin didn't even have room to draw his sword as one after another of his comrades fell, covered in blood. He tried to see what was happening, tried to distinguish friend from foe—

Till a sharp blow to the head knocked him to the ground, and it no longer mattered for him to distinguish anything.

~<>~

Warmth. Comfort. A soothing melody.

These things tugged Justin back to consciousness. He opened his eyes.

A fire stood nearby, but well-controlled and not too warm. There was a bowl near his head, and the walls and roof of a small hovel beyond that. He turned his head—slowly, because every twitch of his muscles sent waves of pain into the very core of his being.

Sitting by his side, crooning a gentle tune, was a woman dressed entirely in white. It had to be his fevered brain hallucinating, or perhaps a trick of the light, but something over the woman's shoulder gave the appearance of wings on her back.

She finished wrapping the bandage around his chest and noticed him staring.

"Good morning," she said softly. "How do you feel?"

That wasn't important right now. Justin tried desperately to convince his mouth to move. "What—who are... You?"

The woman smiled. "My name is Jade. What is yours?"

By now, he had regained enough of his faculties to realize that he was not lying down, but sitting in a reclined position. He tried to speak again, but all that came out was a weak cough.

The "wings" behind Jade's back flinched, and she reached over to retrieve something. "Here." She offered him a white rag. He could sense the coolness of it near his lips. He took the rag in his mouth and let the moisture saturate his tongue and throat.

"Better?" Jade asked.

Justin nodded. "Justin," he said, stronger this time. "My name is Justin."

Jade nodded. "Pleased to meet you."

Justin took a deep breath. He had no recent memory of entering any hovel. He couldn't even picture what the outside of this place looked like.