Corren leaned against a fallen log, eyes glinting with amusement. "Alright, kid. Let’s hear this grand scheme of yours."


    Auren took a deep breath and then, with complete seriousness, said, "I’m going to join the bandits."


    Corren blinked. "...You’re going to what?"


    "Join the bandits," Auren repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Think about it. They already hate the nobles. If I join them, I can work my way up, gain their trust, and when the time is right, I’ll turn them against Hadric Valthorne. We’ll burn his estate to the ground."


    For a moment, Corren just stared at him. Then, slowly, he covered his face with his hands and let out the deepest, most exhausted sigh Auren had ever heard.


    "Kid," Corren said, voice muffled through his fingers, "that is the single stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. And I once watched a man try to fistfight a boar."


    Auren scowled. "It’s not stupid!"


    Corren dropped his hands, looking at him with something between amusement and pity. "Oh, it’s real stupid. You do realize bandits aren’t some silly little band of rebels, right? They don’t take in strays with a sob story about revenge. They’ll rob you blind, cut your throat, and leave you in a ditch. If you’re lucky, they might let you carry their gear before stabbing you for fun."


    Auren hesitated. "...Not all of them are like that."


    Corren scoffed. "Name one bandit who’s got a noble heart."


    Auren opened his mouth, then shut it. He thought for a moment, then muttered, "They could exist."


    Corren let out a laugh. "Oh, sure. And maybe pigs will grow wings and start patrolling the skies." He shook his head. "Kid, you want revenge, I get it. But throwing yourself into a pit of vipers isn’t the way to do it."


    Auren clenched his fists. "Then what is the way? You just want me to sit here and do nothing?"


    Corren’s smirk faded slightly. He studied Auren for a long moment, then sighed. "No. I want you to learn how to survive first. Then, maybe, you’ll figure out a plan that won’t get you gutted in your first week."


    Before Auren could argue, a rustling in the bushes made them both turn. A boy, younger than Auren, stepped hesitantly into the firelight—his eyes wary, his frame thin.


    Corren sighed, rubbing his temples. "Ah, hell. Not another one."


    Auren turned his gaze to the newcomer, taking in his frail form. The kid looked about ten, maybe younger, his clothes tattered, his face smeared with dirt. He hovered just outside the fire’s glow, his thin shoulders drawn up like a cornered animal.


    The boy flinched at the sound of his voice but didn''t run. His hands clenched at his sides.


    Corren sighed. “Alright, kid, what’s your story? You running from someone? Or just got lost and decided to stroll into the first fire you found?”


    The boy stayed silent. His eyes flicked from Corren to Auren, suspicion thick in his gaze.


    Auren frowned. "He looks scared out of his mind."


    Corren raised a brow. “Yeah, probably because two strange men are staring at him in the middle of the damn woods.” He turned back to the kid. “Relax. If we wanted to kill you, we’d have done it by now.”


    The boy took a step back.


    “…That wasn’t comforting, was it?” Corren muttered.


    Auren shook his head. “Not even a little.”


    Corren exhaled, rubbing his face. “Look, kid, we’re not gonna hurt you. You hungry?” He reached into his pack and pulled out a strip of dried meat, holding it out.


    The boy hesitated, eyes darting between them, but his stomach betrayed him. The softest growl escaped his lips.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Auren took a step forward, crouching to make himself seem less threatening. “I was starving too, y’know. Before Corren found me. Just take it.”


    The boy’s fingers twitched. Then, as if deciding it was worth the risk, he darted forward, snatched the meat, and retreated just as quickly. He tore into it with desperation, barely chewing before swallowing.


    Corren let out a low whistle. “Damn. Kids these days eat like a starved wolves.”


    Auren watched him for a moment, something gnawing at his gut. “What happened to you?” he asked softly.


    The boy’s chewing slowed. His gaze darkened. He didn’t answer.


    That night, as Corren snored softly beside them, Auren found Rhett awake, staring at the stars. The boy had barely spoken, but now he seemed… lost in thought.


    Auren hesitated, then whispered, "I lost my father."


    Rhett’s fingers tightened over the tattered fabric of his shirt.


    "Hadric Valthorne came to our village, Riverstead," Auren continued, voice barely above a breath. "He took what he wanted. And when my father wouldn’t give him more, he made an example of him. I watched him die. I couldn’t do anything."


    Silence.


    Auren had spent enough time around people to know when someone didn’t want to talk. Rhett was one of those people. But something about the boy’s silence unsettled him. He wasn’t just quiet—he was watchful, cautious, like a stray dog waiting for a kick that might never come.


    Auren exhaled, rubbing his temples. “You don’t talk much, do you?”


    Rhett didn’t answer. He didn’t even flinch.


    Auren leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Look, I get it. You don’t trust me. But if we’re stuck together, we might as well say something.”


    Still nothing.


    Auren sighed and leaned back, staring at the sky. He wasn’t good at this. He’d never had siblings, and making friends had never been a priority. But Rhett… he wasn’t just quiet. He was wounded. Auren could see the way his fingers twitched when the fire crackled too loudly, the way his eyes darted to the shadows like something might come crawling out of them.


    Auren decided to try again. “You ran from something, right? Just like me.”


    This time, Rhett stirred, but only slightly. His fingers curled around his own arm, gripping the fabric of his ragged sleeve. Then, slowly, he rolled it up.


    Auren’s breath caught.


    Scars. Ugly, twisting lines of healed-over flesh, some thin and surgical, others jagged as if torn open by something not meant to heal. More than that, there were patterns burned into his skin, dark lines like brands, curving in strange, almost deliberate designs.


    “What the hell…?” Auren muttered, unable to stop himself.


    Rhett met his gaze for the first time. His voice, when he finally spoke, was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Burning..knife..”


    Auren didn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to ask who had done this, but the answer was obvious. Whoever had experimented on him hadn’t been kind. They had carved into him, changed him. For what purpose, Auren couldn’t guess.


    He clenched his fists. He thought he had known cruelty. He had watched his father die. He had felt helpless as Hadric Valthorne took everything from him. But this—this was different. Rhett hadn’t just lost something. He had been changed by the hands of those who saw him as nothing more than a tool.


    Auren swallowed hard. “You got out.”


    Rhett nodded. “Ran.”


    Auren exhaled. “Yeah… I get that.”


    For the first time, there was something in Rhett’s expression that wasn’t just fear. It wasn’t quite trust, but it was acknowledgment. Auren wasn’t sure if that was enough, but for now, it would have to be.


    Just then, Corren returned, carrying a pair of freshly caught hares. He raised an eyebrow at the two boys. “You two bonding yet, or do I need to lock you in a cage and let you fight it out?”


    Auren rolled his eyes. “Hilarious.”


    Corren grinned, dropping the hares near the fire. “Good, you’re getting used to my humor. Now, since we’re all getting cozy, how about a little lesson in survival?”


    Auren straightened, grateful for the change in subject. Rhett merely stayed still, but his eyes flicked to Corren as the man crouched near the fire, pulling out a knife.


    “First thing,” Corren began, expertly skinning one of the hares, “you two need to understand something. Out here, no one’s coming to save you. You don’t eat unless you catch your food. You don’t stay warm unless you make a fire. And you sure as hell don’t survive a fight unless you learn how to wield something sharper than your own fists.”


    He finished the first hare in record time and started on the second. “Now, Auren, you’ve already proven you can bash a wolf’s head in with a rock. Impressive, but messy. We’re going to work on efficiency.”


    Auren smirked despite himself. “What, you got a secret weapon stash hidden somewhere?”


    Corren chuckled. “Kid, I am the weapon stash.”


    Auren snorted, but he didn’t doubt it. He had seen the man move, seen the way he dispatched the wolves without hesitation. Corren wasn’t just a hunter. He was something more.


    “You ever used a blade before?” Corren asked.


    Auren hesitated. “No.”


    “Good. That means you won’t have any bad habits for me to break.” Corren glanced at Rhett. “What about you, quiet one?”


    Rhett didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly reached behind himself and pulled something from his belt. A small, wickedly sharp dagger. It was well-worn, the handle smooth from use.


    Corren whistled. “Well, well. You’re full of surprises.”


    Rhett said nothing, but his grip on the blade was steady.


    Corren nodded in approval. “Alright then. Tomorrow, we start with the basics. Blade work, tracking, maybe even a bit of archery if I’m feeling generous.”


    Auren raised an eyebrow. “And what’s the catch?”


    Corren grinned. “You keep up, or you don’t eat.”


    Auren groaned. Rhett didn’t react, but Auren could swear he saw the faintest twitch of his lips—almost like the ghost of a smirk.


    Corren stretched, cracking his neck. “Now, eat up and get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”


    Auren sighed but didn’t argue. He had a feeling he was in for the hardest days of his life.


    But for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t alone.