Chapter Text
“Please, Shadowheart. Try again,” Kat pleads.
Shadowheart knows it won’t work; she’s already tried. But she sends her healing magic into Kat anyway, searching for something that can be healed. And finds nothing.
“Kat,” she says softly, giving the ranger’s hand a squeeze.
“Don’t say it,” Kat says roughly, pushing her hand away. “Don’t use that voice, damn it! Try a – surely there’s a potion – or – ”
“You know that’s not how it works, Kat,” Shadowheart says, wishing she could somehow take this all back from happening. Wishing it wasn’t Kat of people - anyone but Kat.
Kat who knows about her dearest dreams, and her greatest fears, and with whom she has shared sweet, wine-scented kisses ...
Before
It isn’t until after the nautiloid has crashed and they’ve decided to stick together, that Shadowheart thinks to ask her saviour’s name. The woman could have saved herself, but instead wasted precious minutes finding the key to unlocking Shadowheart’s pod.
So, a bleeding heart.
Not that she’s ungrateful, but she’ll need to watch the woman’s soft instincts if they’re to survive.
“It’s Tav,” the stocky woman with bright blue eyes and auburn hair bound into twin braids says.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Tav,” she repeats, slightly louder, as though Shadowheart is hard of hearing instead of simply appalled.
“That’s the most ridiculous name I’ve ever heard of,” Shadowheart replies tartly.
“It’s short for Katavra,” the woman mutters, kicking at the sand on the beach.
Clearly it’s a sore point – something Shadowheart is an expert at needling. No harm in keeping her a little off balance, even if she did just save Shadowheart’s life – otherwise she might start thinking Shadowheart owes her something beyond help with their mutual survival.
“Well I’m not calling you either of those,” Shadowheart says. “I’ll call you Kat.”
The woman blinks at her, and Shadowheart waits for her to scowl. To her disappointment, she simply cocks her head, considering.
“Actually, I think I like that. What’s your name then?”
Shadowheart draws herself up, proudly. She has an excellent Sharran name, one she chose herself.
“Shadowheart.”
And Kat bursts out laughing. “And you thought my name was stupid? Wow. What’s your real name?”
“It’s Shadowheart,” she repeats icily.
“No but really,” Kat says, still smiling. “Oh,” she says, the smile slipping. “That is your real name? And I thought my parents were … well, let’s see if we can find some help, shall we?” she says hurriedly, clearly thinking the better of pursuing the matter further when she sees the look on Shadowheart’s face.
Shadowheart lets her take the lead – for now. Let her think that Shadowheart is a follower. She’s got a hundred tricks at her disposal to pull Kat’s strings in any which direction, but for now, Kat thinking she’s in charge allows Shadowheart to relax.
Well – relax might be overstating it, given the mindflayer tadpole in her brain that she’s working hard not to freak out about. But letting Kat take the lead allows her to think uninterrupted about how best to complete her mission, now that she’s been infected and dumped the Nightsinger knows where.
In the midst of her reverie, she notices Kat examining the ground and sometimes touching it with her hands and looking around with the air of someone who is well-practiced at tracking.
Now that will be useful, having someone with tracking and environmental expertise around – for the time being, for once she gets to Baldur’s Gate, Shadowheart will have no need of her.
For now, Kat has shown she has fighting and survival skills, and while hardly at the top of her list of important attributes, Shadowheart also can’t help but notice that she has a rather attractive behind to boot, which is at best advantage when Kat bends over to inspect the ground …
But she has a mission she needs to be focussed on, Shadowheart reminds herself. She’ll need Kat to survive long enough to get back to Baldur’s Gate, that’s all. The Mother Superior is counting on her.
… but there’s certainly no harm in looking.
* * * * * *
It’s strange being around so much lush greenery. Shadowheart finds she rather likes the feel of the wind on her skin and the sight of so much life. The air feels different, smells different, here in the relative wilderness, to in the city.
Two tadpole-infected travellers have become six, and the days start to fold into each other as they investigate in and around the Emerald Grove, trying to find leads for a cure and answers to their unwelcome little passengers.
Shadowheart has already had a couple of run-ins with the haughty githyanki woman, whose inclusion in the group she was against. But other than Lae’zel, her new companions seem pleasant and useful enough. None of them are very talkative and that suits her just fine – no one need find out her biggest secret, that she is a worshipper of an unfairly maligned and feared goddess.
They are all on edge, barely keeping quickened tempers in check as the stress of their shared predicament weighs them down.
All of them, that is, except for Kat.
Somehow, the ranger is still able to jolly everyone along without a trace of the tension Shadowheart and the others share, and it has ended up cementing her place as the group’s leader. Somehow she manages to get them moving and keep them focused on their goals, even when morale is low.
When Shadowheart asks her how she does it, Kat just winks and says: “There’s no way it all ends here, Shadowheart.”
"How can you possibly be so confident?” Shadowheart demands.
“Well we all have a greater purpose, don’t we,” Kat says patiently, as though this explains it all.
“What greater purpose? What are you talking about?” Shadowheart asks, feeling more than a little irritated at Kat’s cryptic answer.
“Shadowheart, you’re a cleric so you must have a god. You know there’s more to everything going on down here.”
And on that enigmatic note, she claps Shadowheart on the shoulder and moves off, leaving Shadowheart feeling more irritated and confused than ever.
Because Shadowheart does have a god, and she’s barely sure of whether she’s putting the correct foot one in front of the other, when it comes to Lady Shar.
She glances at the wound on her hand that never heals, and winces.
* * * * * *
Shadowheart doesn’t know why it should, but Kat’s talk of a ‘greater purpose’ chafes at her. Probably Kat worships one of the weak, pathetic gods, and believes in feeble concepts like hope.
But only weeks ago, Shadowheart was the sole survivor on a mission to retrieve the spiky little relic she must return to the cloister - an artefact that the githyanki weren’t at all keen to part with, and that Lae’zel keeps eyeing possessively.
She may not remember much, her memories having been given up to Lady Shar for the mission, but she does remember feelings of ill use and being passed over, as the Mother Superior steadily denied her dearest wish: to become a Dark Justiciar.
Perhaps the strange little box will be the key to unlocking her destiny ... whatever it is.
She surreptitiously takes out the artefact in a corner of the camp and gives it a thorough inspection, trying to find a way to open it and discover what secrets it holds.
Strictly speaking, she shouldn’t be doing this since it is bound for Lady Shar, but there hadn’t been any specific instructions not to try and open it – at least, not that she can remember. In fact, she gets the feeling her superiors were not sure what the item they were retrieving was either.
“Damn thing! It has to open surely. It has to do something,” she murmurs to herself as she wrestles with where there should be catches to open it.
Perhaps if there was some way to activate the glyphs ...?
“How did you come by that?” a curious voice asks.
Shadowheart quickly tucks the artefact away, annoyed at having been caught with it – she hadn’t even noticed Kat approaching. The ranger has annoyingly soft footfalls.
When they met, Shadowheart had thought Kat an easy target to pull wool over her eyes, but she has had to review that first impression. That innocent, freckled face seems to hide an annoyingly intelligent perceptiveness beneath the surface that makes hiding things from her difficult.
“It’s nothing, trust me,” she replies. “Beautiful evening isn’t it?”
Kat raises an eyebrow at the obvious attempt to deflect.
“Just don’t forget our fates are entwined now. Secrets and relics don’t matter much with what we’re facing.”
“What happened to ‘we all have a greater purpose’?” Shadowheart says crossly. After all, Kat’s words are the only reason she was trying to pry open the relic in the first place. “I thought you actually believed that – that we’re assured a way out of all of this.”
“Oh I do,” Kat says easily. “But that doesn’t mean it’s all going to fall into our hands. We still have to do the work.”
Shadowheart looks at her with a frown. Just where does Kat’s confidence come from? It should be easy enough to tease it out of her, if she puts her mind to it.
“You know,” Kat says, smiling. “For someone so secretive, you really seem like you want to open up.”
Shadowheart recognises the invitation being offered to her, to step out of her guardedness and enjoy a fleeting moment of real connection. She has seen Kat doing this with the others, gradually winning their trust and respect, and now it seems, she is trying it with her.
It is something she has been trained to despise and ignore. The want for it, usually kept caged and tamed, rises up within her like a starving beast.
But it is a temptation away from the path of Lady Shar, and she does not know where she stands with her dark goddess as it is.
“I do,” she whispers, surprised at her own honesty. “But I won’t, not yet. I’d like some time alone now. We’ll talk soon.” And with that, she cuts herself, and the conversation off.
Kat gives her a wink of all things from one of those sparkling blue eyes, and leaves her alone.
Good. Alone is what she wanted.
Or that’s what she tells herself, as she looks after Kat wistfully.
* * * * * *
Kat just has to talk to every animal that crosses their path, to the point that Shadowheart wonders if the others are regretting nominating her as leader. Lae’zel certainly has a lot to say on the matter (though rarely within Kat’s hearing, after the last chewing out she received from the ranger), but no one is particularly interested in her hints that she would make a better leader.
Shadowheart stands to the back, tapping her toe, as Kat and a squirrel have some long conversation the rest of them aren’t privy to.
It’s really quite annoying. (And she secretly wishes she had the ability to do that, too). Though it does means they have a heads up on a goblin party around the area to avoid.
“Aww look at these little guys!” Kat says, half an hour later. And Shadowheart can’t help herself from crowding in beside Kat to see four chirping little chicks in a fallen nest on the forest floor. “Don’t touch them,” Kat says to her softly. “Their parents won’t have anything to do with them if they smell like people, and then they’ll starve to death.”
“What can we do?” Shadowheart says breathlessly, her heart tearing at the idea of the helpless little chicks falling to predators or starving, unwanted by their parents. “Surely we can’t leave them to – ” she stops herself.
Why should she care what happens to them? Mercy is for the weak, unless there is something to be gained. She stands up and backs away.
“This is just another reminder of our mortal fragility,” she says abruptly, instead, recalling Lady Shar’s wisdom, beaten into her on the matter. “Loss is inevitable.”
“That is a very odd way of looking at things,” Kat says, raising an eyebrow as though she doesn’t believe Shadowheart really believes what she’s saying. Then turning to the wizard she says: “Reckon you could mage hand this nest back up to that branch, Gale?”
“It would be my pleasure!” Gale says gallantly.
“See, not inevitable, after all,” Kat says once the nest is back in place, lightly shoving Shadowheart’s shoulder with her own and smiling as the chicks’ parents return with a big fat worm for their lunch.
Shadowheart cannot help her own smile, to see the chicks get a second chance.
The point of contact where their shoulders brushed seems to burn for a long time afterwards.
* * * * * *
A dog growls at their approach, standing guard beside a body. And Kat rushes forward and falls to her knees, anguished.
It’s far from the first body they have seen, but it is certainly the first that any of their group has recognised as someone they know.
Seeing Kat in pain makes Shadowheart’s own heart twinge in sympathy. Someone should really say something. But pain is a fact of life – something she knows all too well, from the wound in her hand.
“Kat?” Gale ventures softly, and Shadowheart is glad that someone has finally said something. If the silence had spiralled out any longer, she might have had to say something herself.
“He was my friend,” Kat says to no one in particular, emotion making her voice raw. “His name was Gomwick.”
No one knows what to say.
Shadowheart runs through the catechisms of loss from the Sharran doctrine, this being a perfect occasion to soften Kat toward Lady Shar, for a freshly grieving heart is the most open to the Dark Lady’s gospel.
“Here Scratch, you’ve done well to look after him,” Kat says gently to the dog. “But Gomwick is gone. Want to join me in my camp?”
She has a sweet voice when she talks to animals, that belies a kindlier heart than the often direct way she has with people.
Conversation passes between the two of them, though all the rest of them can hear are Kat’s side of the conversation and barks and whines from the poor dog.
“All right, he’ll catch up with us later,” Kat tells them, then appears to steel herself. She takes a deep breath, then searches the body and takes some letters, that Astarion eyes covetously.
“Anyone got that shovel?” she asks the group at large once she’s done.
“What for? Haven’t we wasted enough time?” Astarion says sulkily, while Kat glares at him.
Astarion has a point: the man is dead, and Kat wouldn’t be in pain right now if she didn’t have this weakness for caring for people – but Shadowheart doesn’t have the heart to say so. She doubts anything anyone said would prevent Kat from digging a shallow grave for her friend, anyway.
No one moves until it comes to rolling the body in, which they all help with.
All eyes turn to Kat, who is staring at the filled in grave, as they wait for her to say some words about her friend the rest of them have only ever met as a corpse so that they can finally move on.
“Rest easy, old pal,” she says at last. “You still owe me 5 gold on that arm wrestle bet.” Then she looks up at everyone and says heavily: “Let’s move.”
She doesn’t make any effort to move herself though, needing a moment alone, and the others go on ahead.
Shadowheart stalls to wait for her to catch up, though, not liking the idea of her being alone and unprotected out here where there are goblins and gnolls and goodness knows what else.
Well, it’s more that they can’t risk losing their skilled tracker while they go traipsing about the countryside, that’s all.
She goes over the little speech about loss she has prepared, but when Kat catches up with her, she finds herself instead whispering: “Sorry about your friend, Kat.”
Kat closes her eyes and takes a breath. When she turns to look at Shadowheart, her eyes are filled with gratitude and she is blinking away tears.
“Appreciate that, Shadowheart,” she whispers. “Thank you.”
Something loosens faintly within Shadowheart’s heart.
* * * * * *
Shadowheart discreetly watches over the top of her book as Kat and Scratch run around the middle of their campsite, playing fetch with a ball that turns into a game of chase until Scratch is barking delightedly, and Kat is laughing, all the tension having drained from her posture.
It isn’t until then that Shadowheart realises how much the pressure of leading them must weigh on Kat’s shoulders, melted away as it now in the simple joy of playing with the dog. They have all become used to relying on her to meet every challenge they face unfazed with her calm pragmatism.
If she’s honest with herself, Shadowheart is a bit envious. She’s always wanted a pet, and now that Scratch has joined them … well, she plans to introduce herself and hopefully become the dog’s favourite, but it certainly won’t be under everyone else’s watching eyes.
“Oi, Shadowheart,” Kat calls out to her unexpectedly.
“What?” she calls back from outside her tent.
“Get over here!”
“I’m quite fine where I am, thank you,” she says pertly. She’s very tempted, but no.
“Fine then, we’ll come to you.”
“That isn’t necess – ” Shadowheart protests, but Kat and Scratch are already coming over, the dog’s thick wet tongue lolling out of his mouth as he walks beside Kat happily.
She’d give a lot to be as at ease with animals as Kat is.
“What’s this about Kat?” Shadowheart says, making a business of closing her book as though she’s been interrupted. (She hadn’t read beyond the first page, too intent at watching them over the top of her book).
“Shadowheart,” Kat says seriously. “I can tell you want to pet him.”
Shadowheart scoffs. “I do not.”
“Mmm hmm, sure,” Kat says, rolling her eyes.
Either Kat is much more perceptive than Shadowheart gave her credit for, or Shadowheart isn’t as good at concealing her true feelings as she thought she was. Damn ranger.
“Put your book down and hold your hands out, like this,” Kat says, demonstrating. “Let him get a good sniff of your scent. If he reacts well you can pet him, if he doesn’t, well, you’d best back away slowly.”
“There’s literally nowhere to back away to, Kat,” Shadowheart says nervously. Getting trapped against her tent doesn’t sound like a good idea at all.
“Yes, well, didn’t I say to come out to the middle? No matter, Scratch here is going to love you. I should know, I trained him myself. I just told you about backing away because not every dog will be like Scratch.”
Shadowheart’s heart leaps when Kat says she will be loved by Scratch – even though it shouldn’t. She’s not supposed to want that, not from anybody – not even a dog. That’s why she’s not allowed a pet.
But she’s not in the cloister now, and what the Mother Superior doesn’t know …
She copies Kat’s motions tentatively, and watches Scratch snuffle at her hands before he barks and looks up at her, his tail wagging.
“You can pat him!” Kat says, smiling broadly.
“Can I really?” Shadowheart whispers longingly, hardly able to believe that she’s allowed to.
“Course you can,” Kat says, taking her hands and placing them in Scratch’s slightly coarse white fur. Her breath catches at the feel of Kat’s hands on hers; she is so unused to the feel of a kindly touch upon her own skin that it makes her heart beat double. Fortunately, Kat doesn’t seem to notice.
Scratch looks up at her, his tongue hanging out, clearly enjoying her attentions.
“He especially likes these spots,” Kat tells her, pointing. Shadowheart moves her rubs to those places cautiously, and Scratch practically melts in her hands, falling to the ground to show his tummy and ask for more.
“He likes you!” Kat exclaims, and Shadowheart bursts with pride.
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you Scratch?” Shadowheart murmurs to the dog, feeling something soft and delicate like feathers brush over her darkened heart, loosening something further still.
* * * * * *
Why did she tell Kat about her fear of wolves? Shadowheart marches around the camp, trying to find unnecessary tasks to keep herself busy, while the squirming sensation in her stomach from having exposed so much of herself grows.
There had been a wolf, in the depths of the druid grove, and she had freaked out.
Of course Kat was lovely about it, but is there anything more insipid than a person being lovely?
The ranger did promise she’d keep a lookout for wolves and ask them to stay away, should any come near their camp. They’re mostly no harm to people, so she doesn’t like to kill them unnecessarily, she explained. So that was something.
But why Shadowheart even told her in the first place … a few days outside of her cloister and her lips are already loose. What secrets will she let slip next?!
She sends prayers for strength to the Dark Lady under the light of the full moon, just to annoy the goddess’ sworn enemy, Selune, whom the full moon belongs to.
But perhaps Selune had the last laugh, because it is that night while she tries in vain to sleep, in a soup of anxiety about wolves and secrets and opening up her lonely heart to another, that it happens for the first time.
She lies in her tent, sweating profusely for all that the night is a cool one, an ache developing in her bones and all of her muscles, as a thick dread sinks into the pit of her stomach for what is coming.
It’s just like Lae’zel had warned them. And as much as she tells herself that she must, that she has to kill herself before the transformation into a mind flayer is complete, it is so overwhelmingly overridden by her instinct for survival that she is helpless to do anything except wait for it to be over, hoping against hope that the Mistress of the Night will intervene.
Dark Lady preserve me, she prays desperately. Save me, your loyal servant!
Lady Shar does not answer. She never does.
She moans helplessly as her bones crack, her muscles stretch and then she can’t even scream as the transformation they’ve been labouring in vain to prevent, with all their pointless excursions to find a healer, happens at last.
It must be happening to everyone else in the camp, cold comfort though that thought is.
Oh Nightsinger! Mistress, please! she pleads to no avail.
In seconds, it is over.
She is left panting air from lungs that feel much deeper than before, suddenly enormously aware of the scents carried in the night air. The sudden transformation seems to still be affecting her, though, because not only is she bent over on her hands and knees, unable to stand up, but everything seems to be somehow simpler in her mind than before.
The fact that she is now an ugly squid with tentacles doesn’t seem to bother her as much as it should. She just … is. She can’t feel the tentacles at all.
Good. She doesn’t want to feel them.
She cautiously leaves her tent, wondering how the others are faring. No one else has stirred from their tents – at least, not yet.
It’s quite novel how well she seems to be able to walk around on her hands and feet – in fact, it feels very comfortable to do so.
“Hello?” she says softly. But instead, it comes out like a soft growl. Clearly her vocal cords are still adjusting.
A scent catches her interest, one that seems … familiar somehow. Friendly. She’s not quite sure how to explain it even to herself, but friendliness is certainly something she could do with after what has just happened. On the outskirts of the camp, she can detect that the scent is moving.
She jogs on her hands and feet toward it, mentally noting that her vision seems to be still adjusting too, since she is only seeing in monochrome.
She bounds through the grass, finding a strange joy from doing so. A distant part of her mind finds that odd – she never thought that would be something mind flayers would enjoy. In fact she’s surprised that she has any sense of self still at all.
‘Stop!’
The word in her head comes suddenly without warning. But she knows that voice, from … somewhere ...
‘I’m a friend, ok?’
She certainly sounds friendly.
Shadowheart freezes and hears something noisy coming toward her – boots crunching through the grass. And then she can see that it’s a person – although for some reason, she has to look up to see their face. There is something not quite right about that. The face resolves into a familiar figure with braids, a longbow strapped to her back despite her more casual evening attire.
Kat is all right! But then … why has Shadowheart been the only one to transform?!
‘Hey little guy,’ Kat says soothingly, offering her hands out, as she had taught Shadowheart to do with Scratch. Why on earth would she do that with a mind flayer?
‘Oh, not a little guy,’ Kat laughs. ‘A big girl, actually.’
Shadowheart unconsciously leans forward to sniff Kat’s hands, where there are all sorts of interesting scents – of the dinner she had that night, of woodsmoke and the tools and glue she uses to craft her arrows.
And then she looks up at Kat, who starts talking to her again, without moving her lips, and Shadowheart realises there’s a spell at work between them. That doesn’t make sense. Kat’s ranger magic is limited: she can only use speaking spells to talk to animals.
‘I have a friend who’s afraid of wolves,’ Kat is explaining. ‘I know you’ll be no harm, but she’s had some sort of scare, I think. You’ve got my scent now, do you think you could keep out of sight of my pack?’
But as soon as Kat had said wolves, Shadowheart had frozen to the spot, terrified, the rest of Kat’s words lost to her. Oh god, not wolves out here. Not now.
‘It’s all right,’ Kat says at once soothingly, taking the long bow into her hands and scanning their surroundings for danger. ‘Something got you spooked too, huh?” Then, when she is certain they are alone: ‘Hmm, you’re not a very talkative wolf, just shy, perhaps?’
The meaning behind Kat’s words hits Shadowheart all at once as the strange sensations she has been experiencing suddenly dawn into understanding – she has not turned into a mind flayer at all, but a – a wolf?!
Shadow-wolf yelps and buries her head in something warm and comforting. She can’t … she cannot possibly be a wolf!
Oh Nightsinger!
The warm and comforting spot, she realises after a moment, is the space between Kat’s knees. A strong, comforting hand rubs her back through her fur. She has fur.
The shakes come on suddenly, because it is too much, too strange. She has become her own nightmare, one she hopes desperately to wake up from.
‘Hey,’ Kat says softly, her voice laced with comfort. ‘Hey gal … easy …’
But I’m not a wolf! I can’t be! I’m Shadowheart!
As soon as she thinks it, she feels her body begin to melt in yet another transformation. Panicked, she bolts, running blindly in the opposite direction – the pads of her paws suddenly becoming painful as they turn into her real hands and feet.
A few hundred metres away from the camp, Shadowheart the half-elf leans against the back of a tree, hyperventilating with fear.
* * * * * *
Shadowheart follows along with the others, hardly knowing where she is going or what she agrees to. Her thoughts are so consumed with the impossible thing that happened last night that she doesn’t even have the energy to bite back at Lae’zel's goading.
I’m a werewolf, she says in her mind, tasting the feel of the words.
It doesn’t render any more understanding about what this all means, but it’s the only explanation.
Had she always been, and had the memory of it taken away? It doesn’t seem likely, because otherwise why would the wolf from her memory as a child (she shivers at the remembrance) be so frightening to her, if her own wolfish nature was something she’d already come to terms with? Had it perhaps attacked her and cursed her with this affliction?
And if she had known already that she was a werewolf, why, then she would already have had to deal with the fact that … she takes a deep breath, resisting the thought that is trying to shape itself in her mind.
It comes through anyway: werewolves must change in the full moon and the full moon belongs to Selune.
Pain.
Driving, blinding, all-encompassing pain strikes her in her hand and spreads into the rest of her body until she doubles over, gasping with it.
“Shit,” she hears someone say. “Shadowheart, are you ok? What happened?”
She hears someone snapping their fingers in front of her face, as though that is somehow helpful to someone in pain.
“What are you doing?” she says, as Kat’s face comes into focus.
“Um … good question. What happened?”
Shadowheart looks up. Everyone is watching her.
“It’s just an old wound that hurts me from time to time, nothing to fuss over,” she says crossly, trying to cover her moment of weakness in front of the group.
“Uh, yeah. All right. Let’s move on,” Kat says to the others, looking unconvinced.
“Shadowheart are you sure – ” Wyll starts.
“I’m sure!” Shadowheart snaps, staring daggers at everyone.
“Tchk! She doesn’t want help,” Lae’zel grumbles, leading the others on through the swamp.
Kat waits behind with her, though, looking concerned.
“I said I was fine,” Shadowheart says, boring her eyes into Kat’s. “Gosh, you really are a golden retriever, with those puppy dog eyes, aren’t you?” she says, trying to wound to cover the aftermath of her own upset from the pain, which has shaken her more than she cares to admit.
“Ha, yeah I guess I am!” Kat says, smiling at what seems to be a private joke.
“What’s funny about that?” Shadowheart says irritably.
“That’s my job!”
“You’re a … dog,” Shadowheart says flatly. “As a means of earning a living? Should I find you a bone?”
Kat laughs. “Ha! Not likely. I have to think like a dog often enough, though, as I’m the trainer and healer for a kennel of dogs and their partners. That’s how I knew Gomwick. I work at Sword Coast Couriers – well, I did. Hopefully they’ve kept my position open. Perhaps the work is brushing off on me a little more than I thought it was.”
“You train dogs?” Shadowheart says in surprise. This is the most she has ever heard Kat say about herself: the scare of Shadowheart’s painful moment seems to have loosened her tongue more than usual.
Shadowheart had assumed their confident leader must do something much more glamorous and glory-filled, the way she talks sometimes.
“What can I say, a girl’s got to eat while the great purpose works itself out,” Kat says with a wink. “You sure you’re all right though? Because it seemed like you were really hurting there.”
“I … I am, Kat,” she says heavily, suddenly so very tired of bearing this pain alone. “It does hurt a lot, if I’m honest. But it always passes quickly ...” But never goes away.
Kat gives her a sympathetic look. “That must be difficult to live with.”
“I’m not weak,” Shadowheart says briskly, hiding her hand. She shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have cried out in the first place. Now Kat probably thinks she’ll crumble at the next goblin if her hand hurts.
“Never said you were. It isn’t weakness, to be affected by pain, Shadowheart. Nor to speak of it, either. ‘A burden shared is a burden halved’ and all that,” she says with an ironic smile.
None of that correlates at all with what Shadowheart’s lessons have taught her.
“Don’t tell me, it’s all part of a greater purpose?” Shadowheart says, with a sad smile, desperately to know that this pain she endures has meaning, after all.
Kat looks at her sombrely. “I’m pretty sure this is just bullshit you don’t deserve, Shadowheart.”
Shadowheart does not know what to think of that, Lady Shar must have a reason for giving her this burden.
“Are you ready to join up with the others?”
“Of course I am,” Shadowheart says, drawing herself up with false confidence. “I’m completely fine.”
Kat claps her on the shoulder. “Course you are. You’re a fine lady – I mean, you’re doing fine,” she says, a blush colouring her cheeks before she moves quickly forward, slightly ahead of Shadowheart to cover her embarrassment at her verbal stumble.
Shadowheart smiles, surprised to see their normally unflappable leader flustered.
The moment with the wound is forgotten, wolves and werewolves a distant worry as warmth flares in her heart.
She can make Kat blush.
* * * * * *
Every story Shadowheart has ever heard about werewolves has been a horror story of vicious creatures mindlessly ripping and killing. Shadowheart cannot sleep, just thinking about it, because what if she turns into a werewolf again in the night? She knows they must transform on the full moon, but whose to say it can’t happen at others times, too?
And what if she hurts someone by mistake, and doesn’t even know what she is doing?
She didn’t feel in danger of attacking anyone last time, but it doesn’t mean it can’t happen in future.
She gets the shivers just thinking of big, frightening teeth, those beady yellow eyes and sharp claws like nails … she hates wolves …
And just thinking of it unwittingly causes her to transform again.
She cowers in her bedroll in fear, her eyes closed, her paws over her snout. She doesn’t even think of venturing out. Gods she never wants anyone to see her like this ... to know that she is this monster.
And quite apart from not wanting to attack anyone, she doesn’t relish the idea of being attacked by her companions either.
But what she doesn’t count on, is that someone else might seek her out in this form instead.
A white snout appears at the base of the tent flap, sniffing curiously inside the tent, followed by Scratch’s head.
‘I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it!’ Scratch says excitedly, the rest of his body somehow following him in as he stretches himself to fit under the flap, his tail wagging madly once through.
‘Scratch, not so loud!’ Shadow-wolf whispers to him. A moment later, she marvels that she can actually talk to and understand him. She huffs out a great breath in relief, that she isn’t alone with this awful form, at least, not tonight.
‘You’re the woman who smells like burning flowers!’ Scratch says – Shadow-wolf supposes he is referring to the incense she burns when she is worshipping Lady Shar. ‘And also,’ he continues in a hushed, reverent tone. ‘A wolf.’
Shadow-wolf shudders at the reminder. At the very idea of wolves.
‘Can we keep that just between us, Scratch?’ Shadow-wolf asks, a sudden pang of anxiety hitting her as she remembers that Kat can speak to animals. It wouldn’t do if Scratch told Kat her secret.
‘Of course, madam,’ Scratch says, bowing his head. If Shadow-wolf could have raised an eyebrow in her wolf form, she would have done so.
‘Why on earth are you being so formal? Haven’t I thrown a ball for you that many times?’
‘All dogs revere wolves, madam, our most esteemed ancestors,’ Scratch explains, then pauses, seeming to be a little nervous. ‘Are you looking for others to join your pack, by chance? I may not look like much, but I’m very loyal, and I know some good places to hide bones.’
‘A pack?’ Shadow-wolf repeats. The word stirs up feelings of a loneliness so deep, so profound, that it makes her want to howl.
Wolves are not meant to be alone. And she has been alone for so long.
But she is not a wolf, she reminds herself, not really: she is Shadowheart.
And then it is Shadowheart the half-elf, who wipes tears from her eyes in her bedroll as Scratch curls up next to her, letting her hug him to her as she finally starts to drift off to sleep.
* * * * * *
She wakes up next to Scratch, the dog in raptures to receive a morning cuddle from her, but he deserves it for keeping her company during the night.
It’s a relief to find that she didn’t unknowingly hurt him in her werewolf form, though she is still uneasy about why her placid wolf form continues to defy all common knowledge about werewolves.
If she’s to keep everyone around her safe, she’ll need to find out more – as long as she can do so without letting on her furry little secret, of course.
Kat is an obvious first option to ask, with her experiences in the wild and with creatures, but she is wary of just how perceptive the ranger seems to be. She decides to speak in general terms and see where the conversation takes them rather than put her on guard about werewolves.
“Kat?” she asks softly while they are having a rest, drinking out of their water canteens in the strange cave network underneath the blighted village. “Can you tell me what you know about ... wolves?”
Kat immediately looks at her with concern. “Have you seen one – recently?”
“No, it’s not that,” Shadowheart says, backtracking at once, as she realises Kat must be recalling a recent visit from a specific wolf – her. “It’s …” She sighs heavily. She isn’t going to be able to broach the subject she really wants to, at all. But now that Kat’s attention is on her, she has to give her something.
But more than that, she finds that she wants to. Scratch’s talk of packs has awakened something raw within her, and Kat has been nothing but kind, understanding, and accepting. Surely it would be safe to trust her, if she is to trust anyone?
“There’s something I want to share with you, if now’s a good time?”
Kat quickly flicks her eyes over the others; they are still catching their rest. “Sure, Shadowheart,” she says, giving her her full attention. “What’s up?”
Shadowheart’s heart beats fast from nerves. “I feel like I can share this with you, I’ve never felt that way with anyone before …” she admits, the unspoken pleading in her heart being: so please, don’t hurt me. Don’t make me regret trusting you.
But this is Kat, who rescued her from her pod in the nautiloid, promised to keep her safe from wolves and has given her a reassuring clap on the shoulder ever since she revealed the truth of her wound, when she notices it hurting her.
“All right,” Kat whispers, the look of caring on her face so transparent, that Shadowheart knows she is right to trust her with this.
“It’s difficult to put into words, it might be easier if I show you.”
Shadowheart uses the tadpoles they share to show Kat her memory, the most precious one she holds. They both watch a young Shadowheart alone in the woods, scared as a wolf menaces at her from behind … and then the Sharran forces come to protect her and take her away to give her a home.
“That’s why you’re afraid of wolves,” Kat breathes. Shadowheart says nothing, as she waits for Kat’s reaction. “Shadowheart,” Kat says, considering what she has seen. “Just so you know, that was very unusual wolf behaviour. Wolves tend to stay away from people, unless their usual food sources have dried up and they’re desperate. But even then … I don’t know, something just doesn’t quite add up. What happened before that?”
“I – I don’t remember how it started,” Shadowheart says. She hadn’t quite got around to admitting that. “I have gaps in my memories … large ones. And before you ask, no I don’t want to talk about it.”
Kat’s eyes widen in shock. “Shadowheart,” she whispers in sympathy. But she doesn’t make a big deal of it, as Shadowheart had feared she might.
Instead, she gives Shadowheart’s hand a brief squeeze, while Shadowheart breathes heavily from the effort of having revealed so much to herself for the first time to another person.
But she knows her confidence is safe, with Kat.
“Thank you, for sharing that with me. It can’t have been easy,” Kat says, a soft look on her face.
“It gets easier, with you,” Shadowheart whispers back, blushing.
Their eyes lock and Shadowheart feels as though she is falling into an ocean, staring into those sparkling blue eyes.
Kat looks away first, embarrassed, her cheeks tinged with pink, a small smile on her face.
And then she gives Shadowheart a regretful look, and stirs them all back into action while Shadowheart watches, pensive.
It seems the ranger can make her blush too.
* * * * * *
Shadowheart’s only other idea to find out more about her condition is the druids at the grove.
She has a feeling these druid circles are also gossip circles however, so she speaks obliquely to Nettie, the woman who had been on the brink of poisoning them when they first told her about their little passengers.
“Mind flayers, goblins, gnolls,” Shadowheart says airily. “You’re not hiding anything else around here, are you? No werewolves under the bed?”
“The last thing we need is one of those vicious things around to boot,” Nettie replies, as she crushes herbs into a paste to mix into salves. “Nasty, nasty things they are.”
Shadowheart’s heart beats faster in her chest, as she adds, nonchalant: “Oh are they really? I thought they were rather harmless.”
“Whoever told you that was jesting with you,” Nettie says with a smile. “If one of those things come at you? You’d better hope you’ve got a silvered weapon at hand or it’ll be upon you and ripping your throat out in a heartbeat.”
“Oh,” Shadowheart says quietly, swallowing hard, and suddenly all the more determined not to tell anyone of her affliction. She wanders into the druid library pretending a benign curiosity and appearing to casually browse their texts, but really on the lookout for anything that might help shed some light on her condition. She plans to steal anything useful, when there are no eyes on her.
Her eyes flick over the titles: Remedies for the ‘Everyday Druid’, ‘Small Animal Husbandry,’ ‘1001 Herbs and Their Uses’ … nothing about werewolves, nothing even about beasts and monsters.
She gives it up as a bad job when her eyes alight on ‘Underspark: a D’vanya Mettle Mystery,’ having apparently reached the fiction section.
She sighs, her questions still unanswered, her last sane option exhausted.
It seems if she wants to understand her condition, she’ll have to do the research on herself.
* * * * * *
Shadow-wolf sniffs the night air, having transformed near a patch of bushes just outside of their camp. She closes her eyes, letting her nose teach her what the night holds. There is the scent of the night’s meal, much stronger than she could have imagined it to be, mixed with the scent of her companions. If she tries hard, she can distinguish each one of them, and their approximate location.
A familiar scent is coming toward her: Scratch. Shadow-wolf smiles, it will be good to talk to him again.
About fifty metres away, a rabbit disturbed from its slumber leaps into the night. But there is no desire to hunt, or to kill. It makes no sense.
‘Good to see you again, madam,’ Scratch says, wagging his tail.
‘Good to see you too, Scratch. But you can just call me … Shadow-wolf, though,’ Shadow-wolf says as she snuffles curiously at Scratch. She can tell just from the scent on him who has patted him today.
‘Lae’zel patted you?!’ Shadow-wolf says in surprise.
‘Oh yes, she pats me all the time, when no one is looking,’ Scratch confirms. ‘Shall we play?’
‘Play?’ Shadow-wolf asks dumbly. Doing something so ... frivolous would never be allowed in the cloister ... Shadowheart has never been allowed to simply let loose and be free.
‘I could run, and you could chase me!’ Scratch says eagerly. He starts to run before Shadow-wolf can even respond, and suddenly Shadow-wolf is caught up in the fun of the game as instinct takes over and she chases Scratch though the underbrush. She is barely even panting when she catches up with him, her tail wagging.
She is fast, and her stamina doesn’t seem to wear out very quickly, in this form.
‘That was fun,’ Shadow-wolf says, letting her tongue hang out as she pants happily beside him.
Now she notices a scent on the move, one that she recognises.
‘Can we do it again some time?’ Scratch asks, his tail wagging.
‘Definitely. I have ... wolf things to do, now though.’
‘All right. But you haven’t forgotten that I’m available and ready if you have an opening?’ Scratch says hopefully.
Shadow-wolf gives him a wolf smile and licks his ears in an instinctive show of camaraderie. ‘If I decide to form a pack, you’ll be the first to know,’ she assures him.
She watches the dog trot happily back to camp to snooze, and then follows the scent to where it has stopped, on the outskirts of camp, curious as to what on earth is Kat doing out here, after everyone has gone to bed.
She catches the sound of Kat mumbling under her breath before she even sees her, and then Kat looks up, alert, having sensed her presence, and smiles.
‘Oh it’s you again,’ Kat says through the speaking with animals spell, when Shadow-wolf comes up to her. ‘Shall we introduce ourselves?’
Shadow-wolf just looks at her. She will never tell a soul her secret, not even Kat. She doesn’t want anyone to know she is a monster.
‘Hmm, I know you can understand me, you know. I’m Kat, anyway.’
She gives some space for Shadow-wolf to say something, but Shadow-wolf remains silent, sitting on the ground in front of her. Kat moves as though to pat her head, and Shadow-wolf instinctively ducks her head away.
She sees Kat looking at her curiously, quite unperturbed by Shadow-wolf’s reaction.
‘You’re not used to being treated very well, are you?’ Kat murmurs.
A whine breaks out of Shadow-wolf’s throat before she can stop it. Shadow-wolf has known pain she doesn’t remember that is rooted so deeply to her soul, she feels as though she is suffocating in it. Why should she ever be treated well, by anyone?
‘It’s all right,’ Kat says softly. ‘I won’t hurt you.’
Shadow-wolf sees the hand descend again and flinches, but does not move away this time, now that she is prepared for it.
Kat’s hand on her head feels … welcome. Soothing.
Something shifts within her, like a very small knot that is part of a larger tangle being untied, to feel those soft strokes on her head, to hear those comforting murmurs that everything will be all right.
* * * * * *
Another day, another strange series of events – this time, battling gnolls and rescuing people from a burning building. They are all exhausted from the days exploits.
Kat seeks Shadowheart out at her tent after the evening meal.
“Is our esteemed leader doing the rounds?” Shadowheart says, pleased to have time with her alone as Shadowheart. Alone time with the ranger is rare, with her attention being split between them all, sorting out disputes, planning the days ahead and listening patiently to Lae’zel’s ever growing list of complaints. And Shadowheart has started to see Kat’s freckled face in her dreams ... it’s nice to get to see it for an extended time in person.
Kat shrugs, and Shadowheart notices that her face seems drawn, as though she is under some strain.
“Sit with me?” Shadowheart offers, pointing to the little stool she found while rummaging around the abandoned village.
“Thanks,” Kat mutters, sitting down heavily and sighing, then turning a tight smile on Shadowheart, her back straight and tense.
“Something the matter?” Shadowheart asks with concern.
“No, everything is fine,” Kat says softly, looking out to their camp.
Shadowheart follows her gaze, as she watches Lae’zel chopping firewood, Karlach making Wyll laugh by the fire, Astarion drinking wine alone at his tent, and Gale practicing illusions. Kat feels responsible for all of them, for finding answers that are still illusive, Shadowheart suddenly realises. Leading them on this meandering journey is starting to take a toll on their seemingly-indomitable leader, who is the recipient of all of their complaints but has no one to talk to herself, about the burdens of leading them
“Do you think I’m holding up OK, Shadowheart?” Kat says at last.
Shadowheart blinks in surprise. Somehow, she gets the feeling that this rare moment of vulnerability is for Shadowheart alone.
“Holding up?” Shadowheart says, determined to give Kat back the encouragement she has given all of them. “You’re doing wonderfully, Kat. I can’t remember the last time I met someone like you. Perhaps I never did, and never will again.”
Tomato-red immediately floods Kat’s cheeks, and she ducks her head, smiling. “Gosh, so much praise! You’ll make my head swell.”
“It had better not, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to that pretty face,” Shadowheart says without thinking, and then finds herself blushing too.
Kat clears her throat, her eyes still on the ground. But she is smiling.
“You’re doing a great job of wrangling us all together, Kat,” Shadowheart adds softly. “You make it look easy.”
“Thanks, Shadowheart,” the ranger says, gruffly.
Her eyes flick up to Shadowheart’s, holding her gaze, and for a brief moment it feels as though they might kiss.
Shadowheart holds her breath, wondering if she would let Kat kiss her, if she tried.
And then the ranger clears her throat again, gets up from the stool and gives an awkward goodbye before continuing her rounds.
* * * * * *
When she isn’t thinking about tadpoles, werewolves, or the almost daily mortal peril, Shadowheart’s thoughts dwell increasingly on the ranger, almost to the point of obsession.
She wants to know what it is like to be close to such a good soul that is so entirely without artifice, so instinctively selfless ... and she keeps thinking about what it might have been be like had they kissed, after all …
But short term amusements are all Shadowheart is accustomed to, and Kat is an open heart that would demand the same of a partner, she is sure. Part of Shadowheart wants to be an open heart too, to be known for the person she must keep locked away and hidden beneath the darkness to survive the Sharran cloister. But she is bound tight to a dark goddess who deals in secrets and deception. The two cannot be reconciled.
But neither can Shadowheart keep herself away from Kat, as she should.
She is nervous to spend time with her as Shadowheart, scared of the growing feelings inside her heart. So she begins to visit her as Shadow-wolf in the evenings, when Kat seems to do a regular, religious night ritual on the outskirts of camp - reasoning that the wolf’s simpler mind will surely protect her heart from deepening an already forbidden attachment.
She has noticed that she can understand people in wolf form, even without the spell, and has started to catch the lilt of liturgy in Kat's voice when she visits: “ … and the harmony of the wild be within me and the – ”
Kat cuts herself off, seeing Shadow-wolf’s approach.
“Oh, you’re back. You’re not … she, are you?” Kat asks. There is a curious light in Kat's eyes as she cocks her head to one side in that adorable way that she does, considering Shadow-wolf before her. “The Lady of the Forest?”
Shadow-wolf has no idea who she is talking about, but it sounds very much as though Kat is referring to a deity’s title, so she shakes her head vigorously.
Mistaking Shadow-wolf for a normal wolf is one thing, but allowing Kat to mistake her for a divine being would be a deceit too far.
“Oh,” Kat says, slightly crestfallen. “I thought … well you don’t speak. I wondered if you were Khalreshaar in disguise. She sometimes does disguise herself as a wolf, you know.”
Shadow-wolf curls up at the bottom of Kat’s feet and looks up, panting happily at her. She feels so safe here with Kat, as a wolf. The darkness does not seem to weigh as heavily on her in this form, something the influence of Kat’s easy, practical optimism seems to help with.
‘I’m starting to think you just like the company,’ Kat says, smiling. ‘You’re a bit lonely, huh?’ She scratches Shadow-wolf's ears as Shadow-wolf huffs contentedly. ‘Maybe we need to get you a mate.’
Shadow-wolf makes the wolf version of a laugh. If only Kat knew.
‘Oh you laugh now but when a hot wolf comes by …’ Kat jokes, while Shadow-wolf makes a disbelieving face.
‘I’ve got a friend who’s a bit like you,’ Kat says softly, after a time. ‘I think she’s been lonely for a long time. Don’t think she’s had a lot of affection in her life, either,’ she says, looking down at Shadow-wolf.
Could she really be speaking of Shadowheart? Surely not ...
Kat looks around to see if anyone else is there, but they both know there’s no one but them. Then she leans in, as if to tell Shadow-wolf a secret.
‘Her name’s Shadowheart,’ Kat whispers, and Shadow-wolf’s heart hammers in her chest. She should not be listening to this ... she shouldn’t be here at all ... ‘And making her smile is the best thing there is, you know? I’ve been … I’ve been lonely too, and I think the two of us, well, we could be not lonely, together. We could be a … a pack, I guess.’
Shadow-wolf’s ears prick up.
Pack is home, pack is safety. Pack is belonging.
Shadow-wolf whines softly, licking at Kat’s fingers.
Wolves are so terribly lonely, without packs.
* * * * * *
The goblins have been well and truly routed, and Halsin has no cure for them after all: only a new lead about a place called Moonrise Towers, where answers may or may not be found. The hunt for the end to their tadpole problem just goes on and on.
But a few bottles of wine go some way to forgetting that all their efforts to date have been futile.
“Share a bottle with me?” Shadowheart asks Kat, the wine she has already imbibed making her words a little slurred. Had she not been sure of Kat saying yes, given what she heard as Shadow-wolf, she might not have had the courage to ask.
“Sure!” Kat says, eagerly. “I mean,” she says, trying to play off her eagerness. “Yeah, I mean – sure.”
Shadowheart smiles. “Let’s wait til the others have drifted off.”
“Oh, not now?” Kat says, sounding disappointed.
“Best to wait til things have quietened down, I want you all to myself,” Shadowheart says, rather tickled by Kat’s enthusiasm.
She savours the growing blush on Kat’s face, before Kat makes her excuses and leaves with an obvious bounce in her step, leaving Shadowheart feeling thrilled.
And then she puts her wine down and pours herself a glass of water, because it won’t do to be too far gone by the time they meet up again.
She doesn’t want to miss time properly alone with Kat as Shadowheart, and it is a night of possibility.
* * * * * *
“You made it!” Shadowheart exclaims. “Come sit with me.”
“Would hardly have missed it,” Kat says, taking a perch beside her, her face already flushed – by alcohol or nerves, Shadowheart isn’t sure.
Shadowheart busies herself pouring Kat a goblet, trying not to smile too much. “So eager. Well, to begin, I think a toast is in order. Any suggestions?”
No sooner does she hand Kat the goblet, then the ranger downs it one.
“Someone’s enthusiastic,” Shadowheart says, surprised. “Perhaps I should have brought a whole barrel.”
“Sorry,” Kat says sheepishly. “I got a little too sober during the wait,” she explains as Shadowheart refills her glass, amused, and not a small bit thrilled that she had made the ranger nervous. “But a toast?” Kat says, sounding calmer. “How about to you and I, and to very good wine? You’ve really outdone yourself with this vintage, Shadowheart.”
Shadowheart smiles broadly. “To you and I, and very good wine,” she says, as both take a drink – Kat’s a sip this time. And she sees Kat actually start to relax, her eyes still bright with energy and the humour she is usually cautious in allowing to surface.
“I probably should have warned you,” Shadowheart says. “Since I organised the drinks, you’re obliged to provide the entertainment.”
“And … just what sort of entertainment did you have in mind?” Kat says, turning her eyes on Shadowheart’s. The look they share between them suggests a multitude of possibilities from talking to fucking … but as tempting as that is, something in Shadowheart yearns for a deeper connection, and is convinced she may yet find it in Kat.
“You could start with, for instance, telling me what it was like for you growing up in Baldur’s Gate,” she says.
“Well that would be a little difficult, since I didn’t grow up in Baldur’s Gate.”
“Oh?”
“Have you heard of Evermeet?”
Shadowheart racks her brains, sifting through the gaps where her memories should be. The wine isn’t helping. “Isn’t that … an island?”
“Well done,” Kat says, grinning. “Almost no one knows that! Yes, it is an island, that – well, it’s complicated, but it used to be in Faerun, and it’s now in the Feywild.”
“That’s … quite an unusual origin,” Shadowheart says. “How did you – ”
“Oh no,” Kat wags her finger. “A secret for a secret.”
Shadowheart’s mind goes numb for a moment as all the secrets she carries, especially the ones that sit heavily on her chest, fly across her mind. Well you see, Kat, I’m actually a werewolf. And I’ve listened to you tell me private things, including how you feel about me, in my werewolf form. Or would you like to hear about how I got the astral prism, or should we go right into how I’m a secret worshipper of Lady Shar?
“You’re providing the entertainment,” Shadowheart reminds her, instead, waving her wine at her.
“I thought you liked people being all mysterious?” Kat says with a smile.
“Only when I’m the mysterious one,” Shadowheart says, smiling back, as though they are playing a little game. Which, it seems, they are.
“Oh is that so? I don’t think you’re half as secretive as you think you are, Shadowheart,” Kat says, her smile becoming sly.
“That’s quite a claim,” Shadowheart says, trying to guess what’s behind that look. “I hope you have evidence for that.”
“What if I told you, I know two of your secrets?”
Shadowheart nearly slops her wine all over herself, as her heart rate quickens. Surely Kat doesn’t know that she’s a –
“You like children, and animals,” Kat says. “Even if you try to pretend you don’t.”
“’Like’ may be taking things too far,” Shadowheart says, feeling light-headed with relief that it isn’t any of the rather more devastating secrets she is keeping. “I can tolerate them better than some others, that’s all.”
There’s a silly smile on Kat’s face. “Right, uh huh,” she says with an eye roll, as if she doesn’t believe her. Shadowheart does think she has probably given away too much around Scratch ...
“But I like it, by the way,” Kat adds softly.
“Like what?”
“The mystery, silly.”
Shadowheart gives Kat her most enigmatic smile, while her heart does back flips in her chest.
* * * * * *
They talked for so long, that they ended up drifting off beside each other.
Shadowheart lies awake in the early morning, reflecting on a magical evening. Every time she thinks of the ranger, lying right next to her, her heart soars. Kat is awake now too, she knows, though neither of them have broken the silence.
Not that talking is what is on Shadowheart’s mind …
She’s already felt Kat’s hands in her fur, has already given her wolf kisses. And yet, she can’t gather up the courage to just turn over and kiss her. Instead, she looks up at the night sky, trying to talk herself into it, but hoping Kat will somehow catch the hint instead.
Kiss me, just kiss me, she says over and over in her head, dreaming of what it would feel like and wishing that Kat could just read her mind.
She turns over – Kat is watching her.
“What?” she says, raising an eyebrow and trying to remain cool to the auburn-haired woman who is making her feel giddy absolutely everywhere.
“You’re – ” Kat clears her throat. “You’re beautiful,” she says quietly.
“I know,” Shadowheart says, her heart pounding in her chest and looking away. Why didn’t she say it back? She does think it. And why did she turn away when Kat was looking at her as if she wanted to do exactly what Shadowheart is hoping for?
“You know what, Shadowheart?” Kat says, sounding a little out of breath, her face going tomato-red. “If you want something, I think you should take it.”
And then suddenly her lips are on Shadowheart’s, and Shadowheart is melting into the feeling, pressing herself into Kat as more little knots untie in her heart and Kat pulls her closer still. And Shadowheart yields to the beautiful, floating feelings without resistance, savouring this moment of affection and drinking it in until she is overflowing with it.
A little of the wolf within wakes in Shadowheart. It belongs, here in this moment, with Kat.
Pack! the wolf part of her cries out with joy.
* * * * * *
Now that they are in the Underdark, Shadowheart should stop visiting Kat as a wolf who is very much now out of their natural habitat, to keep from arousing Kat’s suspicions.
But she just can’t help herself.
Both of them seem to have caught some nerves around each other, after their night by the waterfall, and it is just easier to spend time with her as the wolf than as herself.
She is starting to feel guilty about the misleading Kat as to her true nature, but every time she thinks about telling her the truth she breaks into a sweat and can hardly breathe for panicking.
“Shadowheart!” Kat exclaims when she sees her arriving for her night time visit, looking wildly around.
For a moment Shadowheart freezes in fear … then it dawns that she had forgotten to turn into Shadow-wolf.
“Just … a sec …” Kat says, walking around and turning this way and that, looking for her wolf friend, in order to protect Shadowheart against … herself.
A hysterical giggle nearly escapes from Shadowheart’s mouth.
“Were you expecting someone else?” she says casually instead, feverishly running through how to explain her presence.
“I …” Kat returns and looks at her. “I have an animal friend who might alarm you, Shadowheart. But they don’t seem to be about for now … what did you want, anyway? Is everything all right?”
“Thought I heard something, came to check it out,” Shadowheart says, shrugging her shoulders. It’s a lame explanation, but it passes.
“Oh,” Kat says. She looks disappointed. And Shadowheart realises it’s the first time they have had time alone as Kat and Shadowheart instead of Kat and Shadow-wolf, since the night by the waterfall …
“But now that I’m here,” Shadowheart says, desperate to see Kat smiling again. “Would you mind some company?”
Kat’s whole face beams. “Not at all!”
Shadowheart sits on the log beside Kat, and they sit in awkward silence for a while. She would quite like to ask Kat about this ‘Khalreshaar’ she seems to worship, but she cannot think of a way to bring it up that doesn’t let on that she had heard it as the wolf.
“So … that revelation of Gale’s was pretty crazy right?” Kat says, by way of conversation. “Fancy having been Mystra’s toy boy.”
Shadowheart could not have asked for a better opening.
“Do you happen to worship any gods, Kat?”
Kat turns a secretive smile on her. “That’s an interesting question from a cleric who has made a point of never saying which god she is attached to.”
Shadowheart curses inwardly. She’d hoped no-one had noticed that omission. Kat is far too sharp for her own good.
“Fine,” she says, throwing caution to the wind. “You want to swap secrets? I’m a follower of Shar, Mistress of the Night and Lady of Loss.”
Silence greets her admission.
Shouldn’t have said anything, Shadowheart thinks to herself, imagining unspoken judgment emanating from Kat.
“I know,” Kat says easily, smiling.
“What do you mean, you know?” Shadowheart asks, taken aback.
“All that guff about darkness and loss you parrot back now and again,” Kat shrugs, not seeming to notice Shadowheart bristling at that particular description of her faith, only the most important thing in her life! “I just wondered when you were going to tell me. Why did you, by the way? I thought Sharrans were supposed to keep their worship secret, and you’ve been keeping that one under wraps for quite a long time.”
“It felt safe to tell you.” The words tumble out of her mouth without any conscious thought and her eyes widen at the fact of its truth, as much as at the disclosure itself. So why, then is she not telling Kat her other big secret? She shoos the thought away.
“Well,” Kat says, not noticing her inner turmoil and looking up at the glow worms, somewhere high up on the roof, then sighing. “I’ll keep your secret. Do you think you could keep mine?”
“Of course,” Shadowheart says, trying not to betray her eagerness to have answers from Kat about herself. Eventually she’d like to know everything, but she’ll settle for something in the meantime.
“You’re a half-elf, like me, but you haven’t experienced it, have you?” Kat says, looking at Shadowheart for some kind of reaction.
“Experienced what, exactly?” Shadowheart asks cautiously. This conversation not going where she’d expected.
“I told you I grew up on Evermeet,” Kat says. “It’s about ninety five percent elves, Shadowheart. I suppose if you hadn’t been among a large population of elves, you wouldn’t know what it’s like.”
Shadowheart frowns, trying to understand.
“Being treated like children,” Kat expands, a hint of bitterness entering her tone. “They’re pretty bloody condescending of folks like us to be frank, Shadowheart, just because we don’t live until we’re six hundred.”
“Is that why you left?” Shadowheart asks.
“Yes … and no. Have you heard of Khalreshaar?” It’s that name Shadowheart had heard Kat mention before. Kat’s voice is becoming excited, and she doesn’t wait for Shadowheart’s reply before she adds: “The first – the only half-elven god, Shadowheart. Our Lady of the Forest.”
“A ranger god?” Shadowheart guesses. The only one she has heard of is Mielikki, and she is pretty sure she has heard her being given the same epithet.
“Yes,” Kat nods. “And she trained me, Shadowheart,” she says quietly. “The Forest Queen herself taught to me to use a bow, talk to animals and track creatures.”
Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her fringe, at the casual way Kat is describing direct tutelage from a goddess.
What she would give to have even a sliver of attention from Lady Shar, to just hear her voice! And Kat has actually been directly mentored by her goddess.
“And then she told me my future was in the material plane, that there was something important I needed to do here, some great purpose. So I came to Faerun, and here I am – a few detours like nautiloids along the way.”
“And have you found out what your purpose is?” Shadowheart asks, astonished. No wonder Kat has been so confident that things would work out, all this time, if the hand of fate is on her.
“No,” Kat says, sighing and seeming to completely deflate in front of her. “I have no idea. Maybe it’s something to do with all of this, though? Cutting down this Cult of the Absolute? I don’t know ...”
“That’s … incredible Kat,” Shadowheart says, unable to keep the admiration from her tone. “You have a mission, direct from your goddess!”
Shadowheart has her own mission serving Lady Shar with the astral prism, but it’s hard to feel very proud of it right now when Kat has not only heard but directly seen her own goddess.
“Ha,” Kat says, smiling without humour. “Maybe it sounds like it’s something, but working for the postal service has hardly been filled with glory, Shadowheart.”
And then she moves so casually, that Shadowheart doesn’t realise what is happening until Kat’s hand is holding her own.
She stares at their intertwined hands, her face suddenly blazing hot. She hadn’t been expecting it at all. If feels as though they are doing something exceptionally intimate. Shadowheart takes a shaky breath.
It is not as though she is inexperienced with sex, but this kind of lingering, affectionate touch that isn’t intended as a pre-cursor to intercourse is not something she is accustomed to at all. They have kissed, of course, but she had been prepared for that, and building up to it in her mind.
“Oh shit, is that not OK?” Kat whispers, moving to release her hand. Shadowheart instinctively squeezes down to prevent her from doing so.
Shadowheart clears her throat. “Awfully bold of you,” she says lightly, her mind locked onto the place where their hands are joined. A place that is becoming sweaty, partly from her own jangling nerves.
But she doesn’t let go.
“Well, one of us has to be,” Kat shrugs. “Might as well be me. You did want to see where this goes, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Shadowheart says, her voice no more than a whisper, unable to keep her eyes off Kat’s sparkling blue ones as the point where their hands are connected seems to charge with electricity.
“Good,” Kat smiles. “Because I, for one, haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss …” she says, her eyes dreamy with remembrance.
There is no conscious thought: Shadowheart instinctively reaches out with her other hand to cup Kat’s chin, and kisses her. Softly, at first, for the pleasure of remembering the feel and taste of her lips, and then she surprises Kat by forcing her tongue through Kat’s parted lips, a most welcome development, apparently, given Kat’s enthusiastic response, widening her mouth to allow Shadowheart in and rubbing her tongue against Shadowheart’s.
Something loosens further in Shadowheart’s heart, and she stops abruptly, disturbed by the sensation, by how much she is revealing of own feelings, usually kept under tight control.
She is in uncharted territory, now, and starting to feel in over her head. This is surely a mistake ...
“Shadowheart?” Kat asks, her breathing slightly puffed.
“I just had to give you a new one to remember,” Shadowheart says, to brush off the abruptness of the end to their kiss.
Suddenly unable to tolerate their closeness any more, she releases Kat’s hand, rises and leaves, back to her tent, Kat’s eyes following her, too shocked by the turn of events to say anything.
“You’re doing a great job on the mystery!” Kat calls after her, but she sounds frustrated this time, not entranced.
When Shadowheart reaches her tent, she curls up on her bedroll as Shadow-wolf, just to let the simpler animal mind blunt the feelings of guilt.
* * * * * *
“What in hells was that Shadowheart?” Kat demands in the morning, her arms crossed. “You just – kiss me and leave – without any explanation?”
“Keep your voice down,” Shadowheart hisses at her.
“You’re embarrassed, to be seen with me?” Kat says. “Just because I work for the postal service. Wow, Shadowheart.”
“Who said it had anything to do with your work?” Shadowheart says, stung. “I just – like to keep things to private, especially since we’re working out what this is still.”
“And how do we work that out if you’re going to run off?”
“I did not – ”
Kat glares at Shadowheart’s denial, and Shadowheart changes direction at speed, sensing a deflection would be a mistake.
“All right, I ran off,” Shadowheart admits. “I needed to … I felt overwhelmed,” she ends lamely.
“Right,” Kat says, an eyebrow raised. “You couldn’t have just told me, ‘Kat, I’m feeling overwhelmed?’”
“You really know nothing about Sharranism, Kat,” Shadowheart says heatedly, her temper beginning to stoke. “We are not supposed to have these feelings!”
“How about how it left me feeling, huh?” Kat says, not letting her off the hook at all. “I went out on a limb, Shadowheart, and then you went and kissed me – ”
“Keep your voice down, will you?”
“ – and then left me, like a toy you were playing with and dropped on the floor when you were done.”
Shadowheart reels from this characterisation of her actions.
“You are not a toy to me, Kat,” she says, indignant.
“Then, you’re going to have to decide what I am, Shadowheart,” Kat says, deadly serious. “Because there’s being mysterious, and then there’s messing with people’s feelings. If you want to keep things casual, or leave things off altogether, sure it’ll hurt but I’ll get over it. Just don’t mess me around. My heart bleeds a lot more easily than you may think.”
And she turns and leaves, leaving Shadowheart huffing with anger and feeling guiltier than ever.
* * * * * *
“Are you angry with me?” Shadowheart asks in a quiet voice. She has found Kat at her tent this time, guilt-stricken by their earlier disagreement in the morning, and hating how overly polite they have been with each other during the day as a result.
“No,” Kat sighs, patting a spot beside her in her tent. “I’m not angry.”
“Oh.”
“But you inspire a lot of confusing feelings, Shads.”
“It’s just Shadowheart, thank you,” Shadowheart says swiftly.
“What,” Kat smiles. “You’re allowed to literally rename me, and I can’t even give you a nickname?”
Shadowheart pauses. Her behaviour that day on the beach seems rather petty and childish now.
“I don’t know why I did that,” she confesses softly. “Would you rather I call you Tav? Or Katavra?”
“No, I prefer Kat now, honestly. And don’t you dare call me Katavra,” Kat says sharply.
“Sounds like there’s a story there ...”
“Secret for a secret?” Kat offers, her eyes twinkling.
This could be the moment when hadowheart tells Kat the truth of who she is: a werewolf, who has been masquerading as Kat’s wolf friend all this time. Will she be hurt by Shadowheart’s deception? Will she push Shadowheart away, and leave her all alone again?
Not now, the part of her that fears Kat will never look at her in that soft, tender way ever again, tells herself. She very nearly ruined everything as it is – she dreads to think what telling her she’s a werewolf would do.
“Very well,” she says out loud, coming to a decision.
She will share a secret … but not that one. Not just yet.
She has already shown Kat her fears: but now she wants to share her dreams.
“As long as I can remember, I’ve wished to serve as a Dark Justiciar, one of Lady Shar’s elite. But Mother, the Mother Superior of Shar’s church that is, said that I wasn’t ready.” She can’t help the edge of bitterness to her tone.
“Huh,” Kat says, surprised. “Well, I can think of an easy solution to that.” There is mischief in her eye as she mimes nocking and loosing an arrow.
“Kat!” Shadowheart exclaims, laughing. The ranger has a playful side, that it appears you have to get under her guard to experience – if you are not an animal. “You can’t just kill your superiors because you disagree with them!”
“Details,” Kat winks, waving a hand. “She isn’t really your mother, is she?”
“No,” Shadowheart smiles. “You don’t know much about cloistered life, do you?”
“Nothing at all,” Kat shrugs. “I don’t do well being cooped up for long. What’s it like?”
“It’s not very private, with everyone sharing living quarters. There’s lots of worship, prayer, training ...”
Darkness, fear, pain ...
“What’s your favourite part?” Kat asks, curious.
Shadowheart takes a moment to think. She doesn’t think she’s ever considered whether there should be anything she enjoys, from Shar worship. Nothing immediately comes to mind.
“I don’t remember,” she admits eventually. “I gave up my memories, so that I couldn’t give up the location of the Sharran cloister if the mission went bad - the mission to retrieve the artefact you saw me with. I’m to return with it to the cloister as soon as possible. The only thing I remember in detail before that is the wolf memory I showed you ...”
Kats eyes are wide at this revelation, but she says nothing. Instead, she reaches over, very slowly and deliberately – so that Shadowheart can see what she is doing and pull away if she wants to – and gently takes Shadowheart’s hand.
Shadowheart allows it, her heartbeat quickening, and watches as Kat gazes into her eyes and draws her hand up to her lips to press upon it a single, soft kiss.
“You’ll be an amazing Dark Justiciar someday, Shadowheart,” she says quietly, returning Shadowheart’s hand to her and letting it go. “You’ll show them all.”
“Thanks, Kat,” Shadowheart whispers, her heart trembling at the thought, because being a Dark Justiciar will mean no more teetering on the edge of the unravelling that has started in her since meeting Kat. She will have to tie herself back up in knots and pull them tighter still, to serve her Dark Lady.
“Could I try something?” Shadowheart whispers.
After a moment of deliberate steady breathing, Shadowheart puts her hands on Kat’s shoulders, then slowly leans forward and slides her hands down, across Kat’s back muscles. She closes her eyes, not sure whether she has the courage to close the gap between their chests and make it into a real hug as Shadowheart adjusts to the feeling of closeness, of being so near to someone who is truly dear to her, and not trying to take more than she is willing to yet offer.
“A hug? Do you want a hug?” Kat whispers, trying to follow her thoughts.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever had one before. Not one that came without ... expectations,” Shadowheart whispers back.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise,” Kat says quietly. “I think I understand, now, why you were overwhelmed before … would you like me to ...?”
“Yes ...”
She feels the distance between them narrow, as Kat lightly puts her arms around Shadowheart, their chests now touching.
She can feel Kat’s heart beating, against her own chest.
“Are you OK?” Kat whispers into her ear. “Is it too much?”
“No it's ... fine ...” Shadowheart breathes. “Thank you.”
Kat lightly slides her hand down Shadowheart’s spine and up again, and by instinct, Shadowheart melts and collapses into her, suddenly seizing her tightly, her eyes screwed up behind Kat’s back trying not to cry as Kat tightens her hold on her too.
“It’s all right, Shadowheart,” Kat says soothingly, in the same kind of voice she uses when stroking Shadow-wolf’s fur. “It’s all right.”
Shadowheart cannot speak. She has never been held like this, if she has ever been held lovingly at all.
It is only later that night, curled up in her bedroll with Scratch and the little owlbear cub who has joined their camp and hugging herself in remembrance of the hug from Kat, that it occurs to Shadowheart that she never did hear the story behind Kat’s name.
* * * * * *
The euphoria of finding the lost adamantine forge deep within Grymforge leads to excited discussions about actually trying to create something with mithral.
It’s decided that some time out to do something creative would be good for them all as a break from all the fighting they’ve had to do lately.
The forge has clearly been dormant for over a hundred years, and yet, in a testament to its design, everything still seems to be in working order.
With the mithral ore in the crucible and the armour mould at the ready, they all stand on platforms while Gale, grinning like an idiot, spins the valve with a flourish and the forge begins to fill with lava.
They are all quickly sweating profusely from the heat coming off the molten rock, when Karlach calls out urgently: “Wait! I can hear something coming!”
A moment later, Shadowheart hears what Karlach had: ominous footsteps tremoring with every step, heralding the imminent arrival of something enormous. Gale rushes to the valve to turn it off, but it’s too late: an enormous construct made of metal enters through the lava gate and locks its eyes on Gale.
Gale switches his attention from the valve to the metal man at once, sending magic missiles at it, to no effect.
This can’t be good, Shadowheart thinks to herself. She’s never seen Gale’s magic missiles fail before.
She sends a guiding bolt at it, which has the same effect as the magic missiles: nothing.
But the construct now turns toward her, its great fists of metal rising up with intent as it marches on her, while Shadowheart looks wildly for an escape from her little island, surrounded by lava.
Kat loosens one of her special arrows at it to distract it, calling out “hey loser!” as it bounces off its seemingly impenetrable exterior. The construct immediately switches its attention to her instead, and is on her before anyone can react.
Shadowheart nearly screams when she sees the construct slam its fist down on Kat, whose attempt to dodge does not quite prevent her from being knocked to the ground, hanging half off her platform with her face perilously near the lava. But she is moving, and starting to get herself back up.
Wyll is trying eldritch blasts from the platform opposite and the enormous golem now fixes its attention on him.
But she’s ok, Shadowheart tells herself over and over to calm herself down. She’s ok, and it’s leaving her alone now.
As the golem walks toward Wyll, a splash of lava is stirred up.
And Kat suddenly starts to scream and scream and scream, and Shadowheart’s heart screams too, to hear Kat so agonised.
Every fibre of her body screams with Kat to go to her at once to heal her and find out what on earth could be making Kat scream like that – but she is stuck on her platform, trapped by the lava between them until the golem is dealt with.
Shaking, she tries to focus on eliminating it so she can get to Kat as the screams go on and on and everyone is yelling out “Kat! Kat!” helpless to do anything from their own lava-surrounded islands.
“Get that fucking valve!” Shadowheart screams at an injured Gale as soon as the golem finally goes down, crushed by the massive forge hammer.
The very moment the lava has drained away, she runs to Kat, ignoring how the still-hot floor burns at her feet, to where Kat is writhing on her platform and the others too are gathering to help.
And then she sees. Oh Lady of Loss, she sees what has happened, and why Kat is screaming.
“Kat,” she says as calmly as she possibly can through her horror, placing a hand on her head, onto that auburn hair, and channelling every ounce of healing she has into her.
The screams stop, and the only sound is then Kat’s jagged breathing.
“Kat …” she says again, her throat choking, hardly knowing how to finish her sentence. Because healing can heal what has been injured, but it cannot regrow a limb or …
Where Kat’s eyes used to be, there are angry red burns healing under Shadowheart’s spell.
She swallows hard. “How – how does that feel?”
“The pain … gone ...” Kat says between jagged breaths.
“Good, that’s good …” Shadowheart says with a calmness she certainly doesn’t feel.
“But I can’t see. Shadowheart, I can’t see!” Kat says, panic in her voice.
Shadowheart takes Kat’s trembling hand into her own. “Kat …”
Why won’t anyone else say anything? Why does it have to be Shadowheart?!
Kat is starting to hyperventilate.
“You need to – to calm – calm your breathing,” Shadowheart gets out through her swollen throat. She can barely see Kat through the tears in her own eyes.
“Kat,” she whispers again, trying to think of something, anything that would make all of this better, and undo the horror that has occurred.
“Oh my gods,” Karlach says out loud, her voice trembling.
And then a high-pitched howl of anguish breaks out of Kat as she realises what has happened, and it is worse, far worse than the screaming. All of them look troubled, even Lae’zel.
And still, none of them do anything for their leader, who has shouldered all of their burdens and listened to their troubles for so long.
And Kat, who comforted both Shadowheart and Shadow-wolf, needs Shadowheart now, more than she has ever needed her before.
In front of everybody, Shadowheart takes the woman into her arms and tries to offer her that same comfort and love that Kat has offered her, and Kat grasps her back, panicked, her breathing out of control. “It’s me, Kat,” Shadowheart says softly, while everybody watches them, still saying nothing. “Just breathe - in, two, three, four; out, two, three, four ...”
Kat’s breathing calms down, as she listens to Shadowheart’s voice.
“That’s better,” Shadowheart says soothingly, looking up at the others gathered around them, desperate for help, for them to do something.
“Please, Shadowheart. Try again,” Kat pleads.
Shadowheart knows it won’t work; she’s already tried. But she sends her healing magic into Kat anyway, searching for something that can be healed. And finds nothing.
“Kat,” she says softly, giving the ranger’s hand a squeeze.
“Don’t say it,” Kat says roughly, pushing her hand away. “Don’t use that voice, damn it! Try a – surely there’s a potion – or – ”
“You know that’s not how it works,” Shadowheart says, wishing she could somehow take this all back from happening. Wishing it wasn’t Kat of people, anyone but Kat. Kat who knows about her dearest dreams, and her greatest fears, and with whom she has shared sweet, wine-scented kisses.
Kat who is now, irrevocably, blind.
Kat takes a deep breath.
And then she pulls herself out of Shadowheart’s arms and lies down on the platform clutching her knees to her chest, and doesn’t move for a long time.
END OF PART 1
SHADOWHEART & KAT'S STORY WILL CONCLUDE IN PART 2
No one seems to know what to do with their once-leader. The one thing Shadowheart is sure of is that she wants to be the friend to Kat that Kat has been to her. But with Kat now pushing her away as she comes to terms with the accident, perhaps Shadow-wolf can get through to her instead ...
“Well then,” Isobel says, quickly crossing the floor to close the doors before Shadow-wolf thinks to act, and looking at her curiously. “Would you like to stay there, on the floor, or shall we speak as equals, Shadowheart?”
Only the shock of hearing Isobel speak her name could cause her to transform. The wolf becomes a woman, staring at Isobel in disbelief.
“How did you know?” Shadowheart demands.