The Wolves of Wullferg Keep

Chapter III - Lone Lamb

So, they think they can smooth everything over by feeding me? Emily was eating stew as fast as she could without choking. Rek and Koswer had led her along two halls, past a number doorways, and into a large kitchen. There were several long tables on one side of the room with a few benches and even fewer people. A wide counter split the room almost entirely in half; it had a stack of bowls and spoons and a large cauldron on it. The second half of the room was the real kitchen. Work tables, fires, spits, dishes, ovens: there was everything a cook could possibly desire.

Even as she ate, Emily kept glancing around at the new creatures--somehow she doubted there were any more humans here. Most of them were openly staring and muttering in that same harsh language as before.

Three younger men were the worst about the staring. Two of them looked to be in their late teens; one with dark skin and large brown eyes, the other a smaller, more nervous version of Kowser. The third was about Emily's age, red haired and handsome but with no apparent concept of how long it was appropriate to stare at someone.

Two other men sat huddled close together, throwing furtive glances but being much more subtle about it. They were both dark haired and pale. There had to be at least twenty years between them, though they didn't look like father and son.

These reactions weren't exactly unexpected--not completely. But there was one other reaction that worried Emily.

She had barely sat down when she'd heard the scrape of a bench being pushed back forcefully. A rather nondescript man--brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin--had surged to his feet. He had locked eyes with Emily and an expression of something akin to horror washed over his face. Before she could even react, he had bolted out of the room; eyes flooded gold.

And neither Rek or Kowser had said a thing, even though they had definitely noticed. Since then they'd sat in silence. The storm of whispers battered against Emily's forced calm and the piercing stares felt like a thousand knives. It wouldn't be so bad if I at least understood what they were saying! Or if Rek and Kowser would speak. Why were they being so quiet? The longer she sat there alone with her thoughts, the more she became aware of it--a new sort of presence. What was it they called it? An aurum?

It felt much weaker than Dray's. Less... overbearing. And--she closed her eyes without thinking, trying to focus on what she was sensing and put a name to it. It was complex, scattered, more like--

"Emily?"

Her eyes shot open.

Rek and Kowser were giving her strange looks--worried looks. The room had gone silent.

"Are you okay?" Rek was frowning and his mismatched eyes had the faintest ring of gold around them.

"What? I--yeah. I'm just tired."

He looked unconvinced, but didn't pry any further.

"Hey," Kowser leaned across the table and laid a hand on her wrist. "I do apologize for how... unpleasant your introduction to Wullferg Keep has been. We don't often get human visitors. Actually," he paused, thinking. "You're the first human we've had here in forty years or so. I'm afraid our manners are a little lacking." His voice rose sharply. "Some of us just don't realize how incredibly rude we are." He sat back, folding his arms and casting a disapproving look around the suddenly silent room.

"We were told not to mob her!" It was the red head, and he was a pure picture of indignation.

"Oh, and sitting there hissing like a basket of snakes is so much better?"

A cry of outrage went up from the others, several rising to their feet so they could see Kowser while they yelled at him.

"You always get on us for being overeager!"