The next few hours were a blur. 

Alfyn took Timothy back to the heart of town while the rest of the travelers opted to return to the inn to nurse their own wounds. Daphne was still there waiting for Alfyn, and she practically collapsed when she saw that her son was alive, albeit heavily injured. From there, she led Alfyn back to her home, and in a matter of hours, Alfyn worked as hard as he could to bring Timothy back from the brink. It was far easier to save Timothy than it had been to save Miguel, and Alfyn did his best to not think about that. It would only make him feel worse, especially since he was the reason all of this was happening in the first place. 

Once Timothy's injury had been stitched together, Alfyn turned his attention to brewing tinctures to relieve the pain and accelerate Timothy's recovery. He placed them on the countertop alongside written instructions for what to do next. Daphne listened with tears in her eyes, and she burst into open tears when Timothy finally stirred awake. She cradled her son to her chest, and they cried into one another's shoulders like they had nothing left save for each other. Alfyn wouldn't have been surprised if that was true in the slightest, but he said nothing of it as he headed for the door and started back towards the inn. 

Alfyn let his mind go numb and empty as he entered the inn and walked back toward the two rooms where the travelers were staying. He could hear activity from inside one of the rooms, and when Alfyn opened the door, he saw all of them had gathered together in a single room. H'aanit and Ophilia were tending to Cyrus and Olberic respectively, Ophilia's magic doing most of the heavy lifting while H'aanit finished off the injuries with what she had learned from Alfyn. They were all exhausted, but they still gave it their all. 

Primrose was sitting on one of the other beds, Tressa leaning up against her side all the while. Tressa's ankle had been wrapped up tightly, no doubt thanks to the steady hands of Olberic and H'aanit, but she was still forbidden from walking until Alfyn could take a closer look at it. Primrose threaded her fingers gently through Tressa's hair in a bid to calm her down, and it was working, albeit only barely. No one wanted to be the first one to talk after Alfyn's return, and he couldn't blame them in the slightest. 

Therion was still asleep on the bed in the far corner, and Alfyn approached him slowly before pulling up a chair and sitting down next to the thief. Alfyn bit down hard on his bottom lip with hopes that it would help him to fend off the persistent images racing through his mind of Therion scrambling away from him when he tried to help. H'aanit had only been able to get Therion back to town because he passed out as soon as she picked him up. When Therion tried to get away from Alfyn, there had been genuine fear in his eyes, and somehow, that was far more terrifying to Alfyn than it had any right to be. Had him killing Miguel earned him Therion's fear and ire somehow? Alfyn couldn't even blame him if that was the case. He just wanted to understand. 

Alfyn pressed his hands gently against Therion's ribcage, doing his best to not jostle the thief around too much. He had known from the instant Miguel threw Therion against the tree that he had at least a few cracked ribs, and that was assuming they weren't outright broken. Therion's ankle had been wrapped up just like Tressa's on account of the damage it had sustained. Alfyn could see the darkened reminders of handprint-shaped bruises across Therion's neck, and for some reason, the sight of those soon to be scars made him feel worse than most other things had that day. 

Alfyn did his best to shrug it off though, instead turning his attention back to healing Therion. He could feel the eyes of the rest of the travelers on him, and while Alfyn hated having so many people staring at and watching him, he couldn't do anything about it. He had to focus on the matter at hand. He had to heal Therion. He wasn't in critical condition or anything, but Alfyn still wasn't going to leave him to suffer if he could avoid it. Alfyn had brought enough suffering that day, and he refused to let it get any worse than it already had. 

Alfyn could practically feel the way Therion's bones began to realign themselves as per the magic of Dohter. Alfyn preferred to use his own apothecary work to heal others most of the time, but when it came to broken bones, healing magic was the way to go. Luckily, his powers had been strengthened greatly when he received the Rose Axe, and Alfyn was beyond grateful for it. Leaving injured ribs untreated was sure to be a recipe for disaster, and Alfyn couldn't just abandon Therion like that. He couldn't abandon anyone like that. 

And maybe that was his problem. 

Therion let out a clipped groan a moment later, and he blinked to awareness slowly but surely. Alfyn froze for a moment before he continued his healing, pretending all the while that he wasn't deliberately avoiding making eye contact with Therion. The thief took a few seconds to ground himself in his body again, but when he did, his hand lashed out with far more speed than he should have possessed in that moment. Therion seized Alfyn's wrist and practically threw it away from him, making the back legs of the chair Alfyn was sitting in rattle as they fumbled for stability. Alfyn couldn't help gasping along the way, and the rest of the travelers looked over at Therion with wide eyes and dropped jaws. 

Therion sat up moments later, pressing his back against the wall despite the clear pain it brought him to do so. His shoulders and spine were no doubt heavily bruised from being thrown around by Miguel, but he ignored the sting, instead glancing around the room with paranoia in his eyes and a tremor in his hands. "Stay away from me," Therion hissed through the panic, and Alfyn felt his heart sink through his feet before disappearing into the floor beyond. 

For a long time, all Alfyn could do was stare. The rest of the travelers did little else either, too stunned by Therion's demand to find the words to soothe him. Therion continued to look around the room in a panic before his eyes eventually found Alfyn... Though he wasn't exactly meeting the apothecary's eyes. Instead, Therion's gaze zeroed in on the green coat Alfyn was wearing, the same one that had brought him through all manner of climates across Orsterra. Therion's eyes glazed over, and it was like nothing else mattered but the coat Alfyn was wearing. His breathing picked up its pace, exhausting his wounded lungs because of how fast he was forcing air in and out of his lips. 

Alfyn snapped himself out of it when he realized Therion had settled firmly into the territory of a panic attack in a matter of seconds. He reached out one hand slowly and tentatively, giving Therion the chance to escape if he so desired while still offering him the help he needed. "Therion, I'm tryin' to--"

"Stay back," Therion cut in, his voice coming out even harsher than before. He pressed his back even harder against the wall behind him, almost as if he wanted to vanish through the wall and escape into the vast wilderness beyond the city limits. "Just... Leave me alone."

Alfyn wished he knew what to do as Therion looked at him with such endless fear in his eyes. He wished his mind had just given him a solution then and there for what he was supposed to do. Instead, all he could do was stare at his friend and wonder just what he had done wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Alfyn didn't know what had set Therion off, but he already had the distinct impression it was his fault. 

Maybe Therion didn't want to be around someone who had murdered another human being. It was a conclusion that made little sense since Therion had no issues with being around people like Primrose or Ophilia, but it made Alfyn anxious regardless. The only other thing he could think of was that something had happened between Therion and Miguel just before the latter's death... But how was Alfyn supposed to help when he didn't know what had happened? How could he even come close to dragging Therion out of his despair when his friend wouldn't talk to him about it?

The rest of the room was stiff for a long time too, and Alfyn knew the other travelers were worried about much the same things. Tressa was the one who broke through the silence, and she pushed herself to her feet before starting for the door. "I'm going to take a nap in the other room," she murmured. She was too exhausted and confused to even try to press the truth out of Therion, so instead, she just limped over to the door, doing her best to not put any weight on her bad leg. Ophilia was there to steady her a moment later, and she took Tressa out into the hallway before escorting her into the next room over. 

H'aanit rose to her feet as well, and she glanced over to the window with a distant glaze over her eyes. "Perhaps it wouldst be for the best if we reconvenen at a later hour," she suggested. She didn't wait for anyone to confirm it before she started towards the door as well, Primrose trailing after her. Olberic nodded slowly before leaving as well. 

That left only Therion, Cyrus, and Alfyn behind in the inn room. Alfyn glanced over to Therion nervously, hoping he would be able to do something to help soothe the thief before he left, but he could already tell that was a vain bit of optimism. Therion wanted nothing to do with him or anything else, and if he had his way, then he would have stayed hidden for the rest of his life. Alfyn didn't want to push him given how fragile he was at the moment. He had done the bulk of the healing he needed to, and if he came back later, then maybe he would be able to get through to Therion to make all of this right. 

That was all Alfyn could hope for at this point. If that failed... He had no idea what he would do. 

~~~~~

H'aanit wanted to leave Saintsbridge. 

She had been hoping that getting out of that cramped inn room would do at least something to help her spirits, but instead, she found herself feeling even more miserable than before. The entire city was abuzz with conversation and fear about what had happened that afternoon. Even though Timothy had been returned safe and had a recovery plan set up for the next few weeks, every person in Saintsbridge feared it happening again. 

A few people whispered about what had happened to Miguel. Apparently, a few guards from the city had gone out into the Rivira Woods to investigate, and they had found his body. No one was searching for the truth of what had happened to him though. They were too happy to know he was dead and gone after everything he had done to hurt so many people. What did it matter how Miguel died? He was gone, and the world was safer for it. 

H'aanit didn't think she had ever felt this guilty before. The pit in her chest was so deep it could have swallowed her whole. Every thought about Miguel made her feel even worse, and she hadn't even realized such a thing was possible. She knew Alfyn blamed himself for not seeing through Miguel's lies. Because of his naive belief in others, Miguel had escaped, and he had taken advantage of his freedom to hurt others. Timothy could have so easily died that day, and all of them could feel the weight of that hanging in the air. 

But H'aanit knew it was not only Alfyn who the townsfolk should have blamed. She should have known too. She had been there to help Alfyn throughout the entire process of treating Miguel. She had acted as his assistant and unofficial apprentice as he healed Miguel back to full health, or at the very least, as he got him as close to it as he could. H'aanit was just as guilty in all of this as Alfyn was, and the thought made her want to disappear forever. 

She didn't understand the way other people worked. H'aanit had never quite known what others were going to do. She wasn't the emotional sort, and with Z'aanta, that had never been a problem. He had always been expressive and dramatic enough for the both of them, and H'aanit had been content to look after him in her own way. As far as H'aanit was concerned, people were honest because she was honest. She knew no one else but herself, and some days, she wasn't even certain she knew herself all that well. Either way, she was happy to place her faith in others because she believed they deserved chances. It didn't feel right to doubt them when she had never really found a grasp on that doubt in the first place. 

Now though, H'aanit was wishing she had taken a few more lessons to ensure she knew when others were lying. First, it had been Vanessa, and while her betrayal felt like a lifetime ago now, H'aanit knew that she hadn't seen it coming. She had been so certain that others would be kind to others because she hadn't entertained the idea of others masking their intentions for the sake of harming the people around them. H'aanit knew horrible people existed, but she had always thought it would be clear who they were. Instead, monsters hid behind the faces of humans, and they always laughed as they took others down to hell with them. 

Yvon was yet another shining example of this, and Lucia was much the same. Both of them hadn't needed to stab Cyrus and Therion in the back. It had been their conscious decision... And while H'aanit had thought something about it was strange, she had wanted to trust that everything would be alright. She had been certain she could place her faith in others because she saw no reason for people around her to harm those that surrounded them. What reason was there for betrayal when friendship and camaraderie benefitted everyone? 

Miguel had already made his decision long before he met Alfyn though, and H'aanit hated it. She didn't know if people could change after stubbornly setting themselves in their own horrible ways for so long, but she wished Miguel had backed down when given the chance. Instead, he had kidnapped a child and used him as ransom. If H'aanit hadn't used what little healing knowledge she had, then Timothy would have died, and it would have been Miguel's fault. She had been there with Alfyn helping to treat Miguel the entire time. Why didn't she see what he was up to until it was too late? How could she have been so foolish?

"H'aanit?"

The huntress looked up from the bench where she had sat after parting ways from the rest of the travelers. Primrose was approaching her, a small frown on her face. "I was wondering where you went off to," the dancer continued. "I went to help Tressa get some rest, and when I looked up, you were already gone."

"Mine apologies, Primrose," H'aanit murmured. She hadn't really meant to abandon Tressa and Primrose completely, but she had needed some time to think about everything that had happened that day, and the rest of the world had fallen to the wayside when compared to her desperation to just get out of the inn. 

Primrose sat down beside H'aanit, her frown only growing deeper at the lack of explanation from H'aanit. "Do... Do you want to talk about it?" she asked carefully. "You've been so tense ever since we left the inn... Ever since we left the forest, really." That was an understatement if H'aanit had ever heard one. Of course she was tense and anxious. They all were after everything that had happened. How could any of them even think of relaxing when they had come so close to costing a young boy his life?

H'aanit wanted to hide her emotions, to say that everything was fine even though she knew it so obviously was not. When she tried to force her lips to form the words though, she let out a heavy sigh, and her hand pressed itself against her palms. "I should have known," H'aanit whispered. "Miguel was planning to betrayen us from the beginning. I wishen I had looked at him just a bit closer."

"You can't blame yourself for that," Primrose frowned. "You couldn't have known he was going to stab us in the back. He convinced everyone he had changed."

"He did not convincen thou," H'aanit shot back before Primrose had the chance to catch her breath. "Thou weren suspicious of him from the start."

Primrose thought about her words for a long time, struggling to figure out what to say next. In the end, she looked away from H'aanit at the rest of the bustling square of Saintsbridge. "You're right," she confessed. "I had a feeling Miguel wasn't being anywhere near as honest with us as he should have been, but... I didn't think it was going to spiral out into all of this." Primrose's fingers clenched into a tight fist. "I don't know what I thought was going to happen, but... I didn't think it was going to be this bad."

H'aanit sighed and pulled her face away from her hands. "I was there with Alfyn as he treated Miguel," she said softly. "I wishen I had realized just what he was hiding. Looking back on it now..."

"It feels so obvious, doesn't it?" Primrose finished for her, and H'aanit nodded. The dancer drew one hand up and pressed it against H'aanit's shoulder. "I don't want you to blame yourself for this though. It might seem obvious when we look back on it now, but we didn't know better at the time. Ogen wasn't fully honest with us, and Miguel wasn't either. You're not a fool for taking their intentions at face value. They should have told the truth."

H'aanit snorted at that. "Criminals aren not in the business of telling truths," she pointed out. Primrose opened her mouth to protest, but she silenced herself again a moment later, nodding passively. H'aanit turned to look over at Primrose, a ghost of a smile on her lips, but the grin did not quite reach her eyes. "I thanke thee for coming to speaken with me, Primrose. It... I appreciate it."

"You don't need to thank me for anything," Primrose insisted just a little bit too quickly. She looked down at her hands, finding them shaking ever so slightly. H'aanit reached out and took Primrose's hands in her own in a bid to ease the tremor, and Primrose sighed at the contact. It brought her much more comfort than it had any right to, and she could only hope H'aanit didn't have any ways of sensing the warmth so quickly spreading up from her stomach to the rest of her body. "I... I wish I could have done more for all of you."

"I feelen the same," H'aanit confessed once again. "I should have knownen something was amiss. We just finished fighting Lucia and Yvon, and they gladly stabbed us in the back when they were given the chance. It should have been clear to us all. Why did we not questionen Miguel further when we saw his injuries?"

"Because you and Alfyn are good people," Primrose replied immediately. "You want to believe people are good, and... I'm almost a bit jealous." She realized what she had said almost as soon as she spoke the words, and her eyes went wide before she shook her head to dismiss the thought. "When I looked at Miguel, I... I thought something was wrong, but... I thought the same thing about Therion when we first met too. You all probably thought there was something horribly wrong with me when I told you I was planning on killing people, but you stood by my side anyways, and... I don't know. I didn't think I really had a place to judge someone who vowed they were trying to make their live better after hurting other people."

"Thou aren nothing like that man," H'aanit assured Primrose, squeezing the dancer's hands just a bit tighter between her own. "Thou art kind, generous, caring, patient, passionate... I caren not what thou hast been forced to do with thine hands. Thou art different from him. I promisen thee this much."

Primrose felt tears rise to the corners of her eyes, but she did her best to dismiss them before they could overwhelm her. She let out a small sigh and leaned to the side, her ear pressed against H'aanit's shoulder. The huntress reluctantly pulled her hand away from Primrose's own before wrapping an arm around Primrose's shoulders. The dancer gladly leaned against H'aanit's body, relishing in the warmth that came with the contact. They both needed a bit of extra comfort after everything that had happened, and they would continue to need one another well after they left being Saintsbridge. That much was obvious. 

H'aanit let out a sigh as she pulled Primrose in a little bit closer. "Why must people lie?" H'aanit whispered. "Honesty would have saved us all this trouble, and yet..." H'aanit didn't finish the sentence, but they both knew where she was going with it. Miguel had done his best to seem genuine, and he had succeeded in deceiving the entire group. If Ogen had just been upfront with the reasons he hadn't treated Miguel, then the party would have at least known what they were getting into instead of ending up caught off guard when he took a hostage. 

Instead of saying all of that though, H'aanit tightened her grip on Primrose's other hand where it rested on the dancer's lap. "Why must monsters wearen the faces of man?" she questioned. No answer met her though, and all that reached her ears was the gentle rushing of the city's river from beneath the nearby bridge. 

H'aanit had always been certain the line between monsters and men would be clear and easy to understand. How could it not be? She knew the beasts of the forest well, and she rarely ever wanted to even call them monsters. They were animals, and they fought for survival the same way many others did. In that way, all life was the same. It always felt wrong to her to use them to her advantage when she fought against other beasts in the wilderness because it would put the creatures of the world in danger and force them to fight against the beasts they had come to respect as their leaders and authority figures. There was a hierarchy in nature as well, and H'aanit wanted to respect that however she could. It may not have meant much to others, but to her, it was incredibly important. 

Now though, H'aanit was coming to realize that the true monsters of this world were not the beasts of the forest that had left their homes and chose to ravage the homes of the other creatures around them. Instead, the monsters were humans, all of them hiding their true intentions behind a mask they could use to justify their actions. They didn't care at all about being judged. They thought what they were doing was right, and when challenged on it, they would reinforce that opinion time and again. 

Nature was something H'aanit had always understood. If she respected the creatures around her, then they would do the same for her. They attacked because they feared humans were invading their territory and trying to hurt them. H'aanit could call upon the beasts of the world because of her knowledge of the S'warkii teachings of the wood, but she rarely did so because it had always felt wrong to pit them against the other wildlife they had come to respect as part of their communities. The lord of the forest and the dragon had been loved as pieces of the forests they came from, and forcing the other creatures of the wood to fight them would have felt wrong to H'aanit. 

But the lord of the forest and the dragon were no monsters. Miguel was a monster though. He had kidnapped a young child and taken him away for ransom. Miguel had the audacity to raise a dagger to a child who was not yet ten years old simply because he had the nerve to cry out of fear the way all humans would have. H'aanit hated seeing the rest of her team suffer, but at the very least, they were all adults. They were on this journey because they could make decisions for themselves. They may not have chosen to fight Miguel directly, but they had still chosen this path for themselves, and they had to live with their decision no matter what that meant for them in the future. Timothy had no other choice though. He had been taken from his mother's arms, and he had nearly died because of the greed and temper of a man who killed simply for the thrill of it all. How could Miguel not be called a monster?

And H'aanit had helped him. 

She felt like such a fool looking back now. Of course Miguel was going to stab her and Alfyn in the back. It was just a natural conclusion to come to... But H'aanit hated thinking about it. Why did she need to fear someone betraying her because she wanted to believe the world was a good place? She had little experience with people beyond her village, and while the last few months on the road had changed her outlook on the world and taught her much about the people who lived in it, she still had a long way to go. Any other member of the group would have questioned Miguel. In fact, they had tried, but they had been cut off when Ophilia fell ill. Anyone else would have realized what Miguel was going to do, but H'aanit had not, and she hated just how gullible he had made her. She should have known better than this. She needed herself to know better than this. 

Primrose was silent for a long time in response to H'aanit's question, and she eventually simply shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. H'aanit could tell by the glazed look in Primrose's eyes that she was thinking about the men who had murdered her father, but there was more to it than that. H'aanit didn't quite know how to put a finger on it, but she knew there was something else on the dancer's mind as well. 

Before H'aanit had the chance to ask her any questions about it though, Primrose pushed herself to her feet. "We should get some rest," she suggested. "It's getting late." Sure enough, the sun had finally start to set on the horizon, and H'aanit realized numbly that this had all only been one day. It had felt like the longest day of her life though, and she knew it would live in infamy in her mind for the rest of her days. How could it not? This day would mark perhaps the greatest mistake she had ever made, and all she could do was live with the consequences no matter how much they hurt the people around her. 

H'aanit couldn't bring herself to say this though. Instead, she simply pushed off the bench and rose to her feet. Primrose started walking back toward the inn, drawing her arms around her body in an effort to stave off the chill rolling in from the river that ran through the center of town. H'aanit was halfway tempted to offer her fur to help Primrose warm up, but she forced herself to retract the suggestion before she could even make it. Somehow, it didn't feel right to say something so casual after fighting off every horrible thought that had invaded her mind over the last few hours. 

So instead, H'aanit walked back to the inn, though she felt far more like a ghost than an actual person. She bitterly remembered that the group had left Miguel's body behind in the woods, and even if the town guard had found it, that wouldn't change the fact of the matter of what happened. They were lucky no one had come after the travelers to arrest them for murder. Then again, if the entire town of Saintsbridge hated Miguel, how could they blame the foreigners for coming in and taking care of the business they thought that initial wound should have resolved?

H'aanit hoped the city and its people were able to find some degree of peace now that it was all over. She knew it would be a while before the people of Saintsbridge forgot, and the creatures of the forest would need time as well. Miguel had been a monster in every way possible, and his death was not a point of sorrow for anyone. It was instead a matter of regret and mourning every choice that should have been made instead. 

And H'aanit hated just how much she regretted her gullibility from that day. 

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Whew. We're in the heavy hitting stuff now. 

This chapter is the tip of the iceberg for everything the travelers are going through right now. This one just so happened to focus on team PATH specifically, but the others are going to get their time to suffer soon enough. It's... It's pretty heavy and dark. 

The main two points of discussion here are Therion's anxiety boiling over as him lashing out at Alfyn and H'aanit's new self-deprecation. I wasn't going to let H'aanit go ages without another major character beat after her chapter three, and Therion... It was natural for him to end up triggered and agitated after the battle against Miguel given his circumstances. It's awful, of course, but it makes sense too, and that's the worst part of it. The group is in for a lot of trouble going forward, and Therion isn't going to handle any of it well. 

Next time, we're going to see what other members of the group are up to in the aftermath of the Miguel battle. Until then, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Feedback is appreciated as always. Have a nice day, everyone!

-Digital