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The sun had not even begun to peek over the horizon as Summer Butcher tiredly got up from her seat next to Morgan’s bedroom door and yawned, having not so much as stood up from her chair since the last time she took over the shift from her son hours ago.

“Harold dear,” she yawned as she brushed her dishevelled graying hair out of her eyes, not even sure if her husband was even awake. “Would you mind taking watch now? I’m starting to get a bit drowsy.”

“S’alright,” Melion yawned as he came around the nearby corner in the hallway, his black, mane-like beard unbraided and almost scraping his head on the ceiling with his mountainous height. “No need to bother ‘im, I can take over if ye want tae get some shut eye.”

“Out of the question,” Harold said sternly as he came down the hall in his bedrobe, only barely stifling a yawn and squinting to see in the dim light even as he hurriedly put his glasses on. “Mel, I appreciate that you want to help, don’t get me wrong. But you’re still a guest here, so we can’t ask you to stay up in the middle of the night doing our work for us.”

“Save it, Harry,” Melion scoffed. “We might not be related by blood, but yer still me family. So I’m gon do me part ‘round here, whether ye like it or not.”

Cracking a rare smile, Harold shook his head and said, “You always have to look out for the pack, don’t you, you old dog?”

“Hey, don’ blame me, I didn’ ask ye tae take me in all those years ago!” Melion said with a smirk.

“And I didn’t ask you to break into my father’s slaughterhouse and pass out, and yet here we are.”

“Kay, ye got me there,” Melion chuckled. “But even so, dat’s still me niece in that room, so ah can’t just lie in me room all night doin’ nothin’. So if ye won’t let me help, sooner or later, ah’ll prolly be th’ one who’ll need tae be talked outta doin’ somethin’ stupid.”

“Wait, are you saying you’ll go to her about this? After we’ve just talked sense into Arthur about pretty much the same thing?”

“Course not, Harry! Ye couldn’ pay me tae see that woman again!”

“Speaking of Arthur,” Summer interjected, “perhaps I could wake him up for a bit if Melion’s going to be this stubborn?”

“Summer, don’t make the lad pull another shift after you just took over his,” Harold sighed. “He’s had a long day and he needs all the rest he can get.”

“Who said anything about him taking over? I just think after Melion talked some sense into him, he can return the favour.”

“Great,” Harold said, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure we won’t just have two stubborn asses insisting on keeping watch all night.”

“Spare the sarcasm dear, it’s worth a try,” Summer said as she started walking down the hall and turned around the left corner towards Arthur’s room.

Turning back towards Melion as his wife disappeared from sight, Harold asked, “So what were you proposing that’s so stupid?”

“I was meanin’ ah’d prolly go take a job huntin’ somethin’ way outta me league in hopes that’d earn me enough tae pay th’ wizards.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way Melion, but if you could make that much money off your line of work, you wouldn’t be spending most nights sleeping in the woods.”

“Oh come off it Harry, ye know exactly why I prefer it dat way. If ye didn’ insist on puttin’ me in yer guest room, ah’d just lay down in th’ barn whenever I visit.”

“I’m aware what you’re used to, but you know I can’t do that to a guest, much less my own brother!”

As the two continued their discussion, at the very end of the hallway past the corner, Summer gently knocked on Arthur’s door, calling to her son, “Arthur? Would you mind telling your uncle to go back to bed?”

When she didn’t hear a reply, Summer knocked a little bit louder and asked, “Arthur? Are you awake? Arthur?”

“Today must have been rougher on the lad than we thought,” Harold supposed as he overheard Summer’s attempts to wake their son. “I don’t remember him sleeping this heavily since he was in nappies.”

“Guess I’ll have to wake him the old-fashioned way,” Summer sighed, opening the door. “Arthur, I’m not going to call you again…“

But as Summer stepped into her son’s room to wake him up, she nearly tripped over her own feet in fright as she saw that her son was nowhere in sight. The bed in the corner of the room was perfectly made, completely untouched since the day before, and in the opposite corner Arthur’s wardrobe was wide open, with the cloak and traveller’s pack that normally hung on a hook inside the wardrobe door nowhere to be found.

Running back into the hall and around the corner, Summer shouted, “HE’S GONE!!!”

Harold and Melion immediately turned towards Summer, wide eyed with shock.

“Careful dear, you could wake Morgan!” Harold whispered worriedly as he strode towards the turn in the hallway to see for himself. “What do you mean, Arthur’s gone?!”

Shaking with panic, Summer elaborated, “ARTHUR ISN’T HERE! His bed hasn’t been touched since yesterday, and his closet is wide open with his cloak and bag missing!”

“You don’t think he-“

“Ah do,” Melion grumbled as he headed around the corner himself and into the guest room. Once inside, he crouched down and rummaged through his supplies piled up next to the door. Sorting through his coat, armour, shields, weapons and provisions of all kinds, Melion desperately searched for the one thing that could suggest they were mistaken somehow, only to find no sign.

“Just as ah thought,” he growled, thumping his fist on the wall. “The lad took me sword!”

“Damn it!” Harold cursed, no longer even trying to not wake his daughter. “We should have known it was too easy to convince the boy! And he could be anywhere in that forest by now!”

Sighing heavily, Melion grimly said, “There’s only way tae find th’ lad now.”

Striding towards Arthur’s room with his coat, armour and weapons underarm, he continued, “Ah’ll have to change.”

“Melion, are you sure?” Harold said cautiously. “After all these years we’ve kept your secret from them?”

As Melion reached Arthur’s door, Summer stepped aside to let him through. Desperately fighting to hold back her tears, she put a hand on Melion’s shoulder and told him, “Do what you have to. Whatever it takes, get my son back here safe.”

“Ah’ll do that or die tryin’. Ye have me word, Summer.”

As Summer passed him to join her husband, Melion entered Arthur’s room and approached the open closet, pulling out one of Arthur’s spare tunics. As he stuffed it under his arm his everything else, Melion came out and told Harry and Summer, “Ah’m gon to need to duck into yer barn to sniff him out. Ah’m sure none around here are even awake tae see me change, but it’s still best I do it outta sight jus’ in case.”

“Of course,” Harold said worriedly. But as he followed Melion as he was heading down the hall towards the door, he added, “You do realise this means we’ll probably have to explain everything to Arthur once you’ve brought him back.”

“Ah know,” Melion sighed as he opened the door, adding before he closed it, “But it was bound to happen, anyway.”

Swiftly and silently, Melion ran for the Butcher’s barn. He knew he might spook the animals inside as a result, but that was a risk he had to take. Unlocking the barn door with the spare key he always kept with him, he cautiously stepped inside and threw the tunic on the barn floor. Once he was sure no one could see him, Melion put on the leather doublet and fastened all his gear to himself. Finally, he pulled on his fur coat and got down on all fours, the fur of his coat swiftly enveloping his body…

O – O – O

“So, Arthur Butcher… do we have a bargain?”

From across the round table that sat before the roaring fireplace, the Witch of the Woods outstretched her long, slender arm for Arthur to take her hand, her sparkling amethyst eyes and their cat-like pupils trained down on Arthur as she waited for him to answer the question that would decide his sister’s fate. Arthur did not even hesitate to reach out and grasp her hand.

“We do.”

“In that case, we ought not to dawdle in sealing our contract,” the Witch said, her darkly coloured lips curved into a smile.

“So does that mean I’ll have to sign something?”

“You could say that in a metaphorical sense, but in literal terms, magical contracts are less concerned with written documents…”

“How so?”

The moment Arthur asked that question, the room began to darken as emerald flames swirled around where their hands were clasped together, the green firelight reflecting off of the Witch’s moonlight pale skin. Her long, onyx black hair began to rise up and fan out behind her like a cape in the wind, but Arthur felt no wind, and the house’s windows were not even open to let in such weather in the first place.

“Wait, what is this?” Arthur asked, his eyes widened in astonishment as he looked down at the emerald fire dancing around their hands, even as he felt no heat from them.

Raising an eyebrow curiously, the Witch mused, “So you can see it…”

“Yes, should I not be able to?”

“Oh, never you mind for now,” the Witch said nonchalantly. “The magical forces that govern our world will sometimes indulge in a flair for the dramatic. The important part is that you answer these questions…”

Arthur sighed. “Then let’s get this over with.”

“Very well,” the Witch smiled. “Do you, Arthur Butcher, vow to serve the Witch of the Woods for as long as you live?”

“Yes, I do.”

The moment Arthur gave that answer, the flames swirling around their hands began to coalesce into thin ropes of fire which wrapped around Arthur’s hand, but still they cast no heat, burning his skin no more than ropes of hemp would. The Witch continued, “And will you hold me to fulfill my end of this contract, as I will yours?”

“I will.”

The ropes of flames tightened around Arthur’s hand as they began to bind the Witch’s as well.

“And will you forevermore belong to the Witch and place all of her needs above your own, until the day the terms of this contract expire at your passing from this world to the next?”

Arthur tensed himself. This was starting to become all too real for him, but he had come too far to back out now.

“I will.”

“Then, Arthur Butcher,” the Witch smiled as the ropes of green flame became to dissipate into cinders, “we have a contract.”

O – O – O

At the same rocky cairn where a now deceased basilisk once made its lair, Melion’s arming sword lay on the ground, undisturbed since it had fell from Arthur’s hands as he was swallowed by the cave’s former resident. Undisturbed, that is, until this moment, as the snout of a great horse-sized canine lowered itself to just an inch above the blade and gave it a sniff. After a few sniffs, the newly arrived beast had its scent.

As the beast’s snout raised itself away from the sword to continue the hunt, the shadow falling upon the weapon began to change its shape, from that of a lupine beast to that of a towering human man. Once the shadow had fully transitioned to a static human shape, a burly hand reached down to grasp the sword’s hilt, upon which a gruff, accented voice sighed, “Damn the boy.”

O – O – O

As the tendrils of green flame binding the tow’s hands together finally dissipated, Arthur loosened his grip and pulled his hand away from his new mistress’s.

“So that’s it, then?” he asked. “The deal is done?”

“Your part is done,” the Witch replied. “However, there’s one part of the contract that I regrettably forgot to mention. This may sting a little, so I apologise in advance.”

Before Arthur could enquire what she meant, he noticed that the green flames of the contract had not fully evaporated, but had simply split into a thousand tiny strands of green cinders, which were now converging on the palm of his right hand with increasing speed. Once they had reached their full speed, the strands had all joined into a single vortex of flame that burned into Arthur’s palm, quickly disappearing into the skin of his hand. By the time Arthur had begun to grit his teeth from the pain, the sensation had gone entirely.

Arthur turned his hand around to see if the flames had left any marks. They had, but they did not look like any burn marks Arthur had seen. Instead of any scars or blisters, he saw a small mark no larger than a penny at the centre of his palm glowing with emerald green light, as if the flames had been embedded into his skin. Stranger still was the mark itself, which seemed to be a symbol of some kind. The symbol was a single circular (or was it ovular?) centre with eight lines branching off of it? Some kind of spider, maybe? No, it looked more like the conjoined serpentine heads of a hydra, or was that the roots or branches of a great tree? Every time Arthur was sure he had worked out what the symbol was depicting, he immediately thought of something he thought that it resembled more.

Deciding he was getting nowhere trying to figure out what this mark was supposed to look like, Arthur decided to focus on the reason for the mark itself, asking the Witch, “What is this?”

“Yes, I really should have warned you first,” the Witch said with a chuckle of embarrassment. “That mark is essentially the dog tags on your collar. I am far from the only magical being who takes mortals for servants, but not all are as inclined to be as transparent about such agreements as I am. Some will not even give the mortals unlucky enough to encounter them a choice in the matter before taking them as property. This mark will let such beings know just who you belong to and remind them to keep their hands off.”

“’Who I belong to,’” Arthur grimly repeated, the gravity of what he had agreed to finally sinking in. “So there’s no going back now, is there?”

“I’m afraid not, child,” the Witch said sympathetically.

“Will I get to see my family again?”

“Of course, Arthur. I still have to fulfill my end of the bargain after all, and I imagine we will have travel to your home so I can see to your sister’s condition. And even then, you will not need to leave them right away, so you will have ample time to say your final goodbyes.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Arthur said with a sigh of relief. While still immensely saddened by the situation, knowing he would not have to leave his family immediately made Arthur feel a bit better. “How long will I have, then?”

“I am open to negotiate the exact date for you to begin your service to me, but I am unlikely to need and extra pair of hands too badly before the winter and even then not likely before the eve of the Solstice.”

“Well Miss, I suppose we should get on to business, then. When do we leave?”

Before the Witch could even answer, the two were interrupted by the loud sound of something large colliding with the Witch’s front door, said door violently fracturing from the impact despite the metal bracing. Whatever had attacked the door charged again, completely shattering the barricade in its path and sliding through the doorway. Arthur looked upon the intruder and froze up in fear when he saw that a ferocious warg larger than the ones he had hid from in the forest stood at the Witch’s front door, slowly beginning to stalk towards them. A gigantic, black furred wolf the size of a warhorse, it bared its tusk-like canine teeth and glaring at the both of them with amber coloured eyes that burned like hot coals in front of its scar-covered face.

As Arthur slowly backed away in fear as the great wolf approached, he slowly looked to the Witch, who just calmly continued to stand in place, simply observing the bestial intruder with no stronger a reaction than a glance of curiosity. Arthur was expecting her to reduce the warg to mist like he had to the basilisk, but instead she coyly smiled and said, “Well, this is a surprise, Melion. Although I do wish you had of knocked.”

Arthur looked back to the warg in confusion. Did she just call this beast by his uncle’s name? Surely it was a coincidence, he thought. No doubt the Witch could speak with animals, and gave them names in human speech. After all, how uncommon a name could ‘Melion’ be, anyway?

That thought was immediately shattered however, when the warg angrily replied to the Witch’s comment in a familiar, guttural accent, “Ah did knock.”

As Arthur stood agape in disbelief, the huge wolf standing before him began to change. Fur receded from the beast’s head and limbs, eventually parting from its body entirely to become a familiar furred coat. The warg’s snout shrank into its face until it was nothing more than a wide human nose and mouth, surrounded by a bushy black beard. The warg’s legs began to reshape themselves into human limbs, the toes of its front paws extending into human fingers and the wrists of the hind legs shrinking to the relative size of human ankles. The transformation complete, the man that was once a beast pushed himself up to stand on two legs, revealing the scarred face of Arthur’s Uncle Melion, fully armoured, brandishing the very sword Arthur had lost earlier in his brush with death, and looking just short of frothing with rage.

Utterly astounded by what he just saw, Arthur could only stare and say, “Uncle? But how…”

“Oh, ye’ve got far more pressin’ things tae worry ‘bout, boy!” Melion roared furiously. “We all told ye not to go into th’ woods on yer own, but ye did it behind all our backs and took me sword to boot! Wot were ye thinking; ye could’ve gotten yerself killed! And ‘sidering I found me sword next to a feckin’ basilisk lair, I reckon ye almost did! So wot do ye have tae say for yerself, boy?!?”

Shuddering in fear, Arthur struggled to find the words to respond to his uncle’s demands, only managing to get out an, “Well Uncle, I, I…” before he was interrupted by the Witch.

“’Uncle?’” she repeated inquisitively, her head cocked to one side. “You mean to say you two are related?” Pausing briefly to break into an amused smile, she continued, “I suppose this old wolf must have found a new pack after all.”

“Can it, hag!” Melion snarled.

“Well that was rude. Is this really about Arthur, or are you still upset about that day, I wonder?”

“That’s no concern of yers!” Melion barked back, pointing his sword right at the Witch. “Now if ye don’ mind, an’ even still if ye do, I’m taking me nephew home before he makes th’ mistake of dealing with ye.”

“That may prove difficult,” the Witch sighed as she exchanged a loaded look with Arthur. “We sealed the contract just before you arrived.”

“WOT?!” Melion yelled, nearly dropping his sword in shock. He quickly looked to his nephew, looking scared but no less angry, and asked, “Please, say it ain’t so, Arty! Please tell me the old hag’s pullin’ me leg!”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur could only open his hand and show Melion the glowing sigil etched into his palm.

At first Arthur was sure that his uncle was going to yell at him again, but instead the old huntsman ran up to Arthur and hugged him tightly, nearly squeezing the breath out of Arthur.

“Arty, ye damned fool,” Melion chastised his nephew tearfully. “Ah’d hoped ye’d know better than make tae same mistake ah did! Ye damned fool…”

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Arthur sighed as tears began to well up in his eyes as well. “But I couldn’t just stay at home and watch Morgan die.”

“Well, wot’s done is done, I suppose,” Melion said bitterly, breaking his embrace with his nephew. “An’ I should know better n’ anyone that you couldn’ back outta a pact with th’ hag even if ye wanted to.”

Turning his back to Arthur and heading for the door, Melion said, “We best be off, then. Yer folks ‘r worried sick ‘bout ye, so we should get ye home soon as we can.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay for tea, Melion?” the Witch inquired as Arthur began to follow his uncle. “There should be plenty of hot water still in the kettle, and we could take the opportunity to catch up since last time. Besides, I may need you two to show me to Arthur’s house so I can see to the patient.”

“Ye can find yer own way, ye old witch,” Melion snapped as he and Arthur were almost out the door. “Sides, if yer tea’s as good as last time, ah’d rather drink mud.”

The way Melion stomped through the Witch’s doorway, Arthur was sure his uncle would have slammed the door shut behind them if it were still attached.

Once the two had walked far enough that the Witch’s cottage was but a blur in the distance behind them, Melion stopped and got down on all fours again to change, his fur coat expanding to envelop his entire body as his human shape changed back into that of a wolf.

“Get on,” Melion said as he turned his head back to look at Arthur. “We’ll get back sooner like this.”

Lacking both the courage and the inclination to argue with a warg with the mind of an angry family member, Arthur climbed onto Melion’s back, tightly gripping the fur of his neck for lack of any reins, and the old wolf swiftly strode into the forest.

O – O – O

Arthur and Melion travelled in silence for the bulk of their journey home. Given the urgency to return home and explain the situation, Arthur had expected his uncle to take the direct path home uninterrupted, but that was not the case. While there were many long stretches that the old warg would travel straight towards the forest’s exit, there were many times where he would stop to sniff the air and take a detour, and in a few of those instances Arthur would catch a brief glimpse of what looked like another creature’s nest or the entrance to a lair of some kind, or even the light of a campfire accompanied by the chattering of some inhuman language.

There was even one time when Melion would whisper to Arthur to keep quiet before ducking into some underbrush for the two to hide, neither daring to make a sound as the sound of massive footfalls thundered by, Arthur not even wanting to know what kind of beast they were hiding from. It was not until minutes after the thunderous steps ceased that Melion would cautiously poke his nose out of the underbrush to check if the coast was clear, fully emerging soon afterward for the two to continue their journey.

It was not until the two had made it close enough to the end of their journey could Arthur could again see the sky through the tree tops that Melion broke the silence, asking as softly as he could, “So, are ye doin’ all right, Arty?”

“Oh!” Arthur said startled, still not quite used to his uncle’s voice coming out of a giant wolf’s mouth. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve just had a long night is all.”

“Yer gonna be havin’ a lot of those from now on, no doubt. Getting involved with that woman has led to many things, but an uneventful life is not one of ‘em. I just wish I could have stopped ye before it was too late.” With a sigh, Melion asked his nephew, “What exactly went down b’fore I arrived, anyhow?”

Arthur told his uncle everything, from nearly being devoured by the basilisk, to being rescued by the Witch and following her to her cottage, all the way up to the moment when he accepted a lifetime of servitude under her in exchange for Morgan’s return to perfect health.

“Guess I can’t exactly blame ye for taking th’ offer given the alternative,” Melion reasoned. “But take it from me, if me own experiences are any metric t’ go by, ye’ll spend th’ rest of yer days blaming yourself for whatever happens next.”

“So then Uncle, how do you two know each other? From the way she spoke to you, it didn’t sound like you only met her once and never again…”

Melion sighed. “Look lad, me history with that witch is a long an’ complicated tale, and I don’ like talkin’ ‘bout it much. But suffice to say, I made a bargain with her once. Didn’ even think twice about it, so eager was I to finally taste what I thought I wanted. I didn’ even think ‘bout wot I was givin’ up till ‘twas too late. I’d rather not get into what I asked her for, but long story short, it’s the reason I’m… like this.”

“She gave you the power to turn into a wolf?”

If a wolf were ever capable of anything close to smirking, that’s how Arthur would describe the look on his uncle’s snout. “Nah, she gave me the power to turn into a man.”

Arthur jolted in shock at the revelation. “Wait, you’re saying you weren’t human from the start?”

“I’ve been a warg my whole life, lad. ‘S why I’ve never been comfortable sleepin’ in a bed. Hell, yer Pop’s offered me a job on the farm more times than I could count, saying in case I got tired of hunting, but I like havin’ a job that keeps me where I’m most comfortable, out here in the wild.”

“So why’d you want to become human then?”

“I didn’. That’s just how she went about giving me wot I did want.”

Arthur was about to inquire what exactly that was, but he decided he was intruding on his uncle’s personal life enough as it was. So, he decided to change the subject to something not unrelated, but hopefully less painful for Melion to discuss.

“Uncle, that reminds me… do Ma and Pa know about all this?”

“About wot? You running off on yer own? Course they do, yer Mum found out ‘fore I did!”

“No, I mean…” Arthur began before he paused to think of the most tactful way to phrase his question. After a few seconds of consideration, he decided to dispense with tact altogether and said, “About you being a… werewolf, I think?”

“Oh, that,” Melion realised, seemingly just noticing that it was worth mentioning. “Yeah, they know. Was part of how I yer Dad and I yet an’ the reason he adopted me into this family. It wasn’ till a while later that he met yer Mum. Between everyone under yer roof, you an’ only Morgan and ye didn’ know.”

“So why did you hide it from us?”

“Hey, I never hid anything from ye two! I jus’ chose to not mention it when ye were around is all.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this than, ‘you never asked?’”

“Well true, we didn’ exactly want ye to know, either. It’s not really something I want a lot of folks to know. After all, wot would people tink if they knew yer uncle was a werewolf?”

While not exactly happy that Melion and his parents had never told him, he could see the logic behind their choice. After all, all of the stories about werewolves he had heard were of men cursed to become feral beasts in the night that would slaughter all in their path, or of godless tribes of savages in the north with the power to take the form of monstrous wolves to lay waste to defenseless villages. Obviously Melion did not fit into either category, but Arthur doubted most superstitious mobs tended to let their victims explain their side of the story before burning them at the stake. Of course Melion and Arthur’s parents would want to let as few people in on the secret as possible.

Melion sighed. “Look lad, about what I said back at the cottage… I’m sorry. I really should have told ye wot I knew when we were back at yer folks’ place. Maybe I could have stopped ye from making the choice ye did.”

Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea. “Uncle, if I could have been stopped by a little thing like knowing the price of the Witch’s help, do you think I’ve have gone into a monster-infested forest back when I thought her being a man-eating hag was a possibility?”

Melion gave a hearty laugh himself before admitting, “Kay, ye got me there, lad. Sometimes it’s hard to believe yer not me own cub.”

Arthur could not help not join his uncle in the laughing. Minutes passed, until the morning’s first rays of sunlight broke through the trees, illuminating the road back to town up ahead. It was just then that Melion came to a stop.

“Ah tink here’s where ye should get off, Arty,” Melion told Arthur. “It’s prolly not th’ best idea for ye to ride into town on top of a warg in broad daylight. Best ah change an’ we hoof it back to yer folks’ place together.”

“Agreed,” Arthur said as he climbed off of Melion’s back, the thoughts of werewolf-hunting mobs still fresh in his mind. As soon as Arthur had fully dismounted, Melion began to change back to his familiar form. The moment Arthur’s uncle had returned to his human shape, he looked down at his nephew, who gave a nod and the two headed for town.

O – O – O

Back at the Butcher household, the mood around the house had gotten no less heated than when Arthur’s parents had noticed he was gone.

“Summer, calm down…” Harold Butcher appealed to his wife, his meaty hands raised in front of him.

“Calm down?!” Summer burst out, seeming ready to explode at any moment. “Harold, how could you possibly be calm at a time like this? Our son is out there in the most dangerous place in spitting distance of this village, at risk of losing his way and getting eaten by whatever beast may find him if he doesn’t find that witch, or possibly worse if he does find her!”

“You think I’m any less worried than you are, Summer? Ever since Morgan fell ill, I’ve been beside myself with worry, and now this!”

Harold took a deep breath and sighed heavily as he lowered his arms to his sides. “I’ve been putting on a brave face for this family,” he continued, “but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep it up.”

Taking a deep breath herself, Summer took a seat at the kitchen table and said sadly, “I’m sorry, Harold. People have always said I wear my heart on my sleeve, and now, as a mother, I can’t pretend to be calm amid all this. Not when I know I could lose both our children.”

Walking over to his wife, Harold leaned down and clasped her hands in his and said, “I know. This might be hard, but we have to be strong through this. Especially since we might wake Morgan. The last thing we need to is get her worried about Arthur in her condition.”

“You’re right dear,” Summer sighed, holding her husband’s hand tight. “Just two people worried sick in this house is enough. But my worry is made so much worse knowing our son could be making a grave mistake trying to make us right for us all. And I wonder if either of us would have made that mistake if we were in his position at that age…”

As if on cue, the house’s front door creaked open, and the Butchers turned their heads to the door to see their son walk through with Melion behind him.

“Hey,” Arthur said awkwardly as his uncle leaned down to walk through the door behind him. “I’m back.”

Arthur was not looking forward to what was sure to come next. His father had his arms crossed, his face bearing a scowl of disapproval, while his mother looked absolutely furious with her tear-stained face fuming more fiercely than a boiling kettle.

With a deep sigh, Arthur began to say, “Look, I’m sorry that I-“ only for his mother to run get out of her chair and run towards him at top speed and hug him as tight as she possibly could.

“Oh Arthur, my baby!” Summer cried as she only tightened her embrace. “I’m so glad you’re home safely!”

“Yeah,” he sighed, hugging just as tightly. “Well, I’m sorry that I worried all of you.”

“Apology accepted,” Summer said softly as the two continued their embrace, only for her to give her son a light smack at the back of the head and sharply asked him, “What in the Green Goddess’s name were you thinking, running off like that?! You could have gotten yourself killed in that forest, or worse! Who knows what could have happened if your Uncle hadn’t stopped you in time?”

Summer waited for her child to answer, only to receive a grim silence in return. Summer looked up at Melion, waiting for him to confirm what she wanted to hear, only for him to solemnly shake his head. Even Harold widened his eyes in shock as he shuddered in realisation of what this meant.

“Arthur?” Summer said worriedly as she looked back down on her son. “You and Melion are scaring me. Surely your uncle managed to stop you before you saw the Witch… right?”

Arthur’s silence lingered for a few seconds more. Then he opened his mouth, and out can the one word Summer feared he would hear, but that she knew he would say anyway.

“No.”

Shaking as he continued to embrace her child, eyes widened with shock even as tears continued to pour down her face, Summer whimpered, “My sweet, stupid boy… what have you done? What did you promise?”

Just as Arthur inhaled a deep breath so he could explain everything, a soft, familiar voice rang from everywhere in the house, “Only that which I promised to give in return.”

As everyone in the house rapidly looked around the house to see where the voice was coming from, Arthur’s shadow began to swell up and a great, dark shape rose up from it, nearly grazing the ceiling above them as it began to take a human shape, the darkness swirling to become a familiar pitch black hair and clothes and revealing glowing skin as pale as moonlight.

As Arthur’s mother looked up in horror at the shimmering amethyst eyes staring down at her, the Witch closed her eyes with a gentle smile and politely asked, “Now that your question has been answered, may you be so kind as to show me to the patient?”

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The sun had not even begun to peek over the horizon as Summer Butcher tiredly got up from her seat next to Morgan’s bedroom door and yawned, having not so much as stood up from her chair since the last time she took over the shift from her son hours ago.

“Harold dear,” she yawned as she brushed her dishevelled graying hair out of her eyes, not even sure if her husband was even awake. “Would you mind taking watch now? I’m starting to get a bit drowsy.”

“S’alright,” Melion yawned as he came around the nearby corner in the hallway, his black, mane-like beard unbraided and almost scraping his head on the ceiling with his mountainous height. “No need to bother ‘im, I can take over if ye want tae get some shut eye.”

“Out of the question,” Harold said sternly as he came down the hall in his bedrobe, only barely stifling a yawn and squinting to see in the dim light even as he hurriedly put his glasses on. “Mel, I appreciate that you want to help, don’t get me wrong. But you’re still a guest here, so we can’t ask you to stay up in the middle of the night doing our work for us.”

“Save it, Harry,” Melion scoffed. “We might not be related by blood, but yer still me family. So I’m gon do me part ‘round here, whether ye like it or not.”

Cracking a rare smile, Harold shook his head and said, “You always have to look out for the pack, don’t you, you old dog?”

“Hey, don’ blame me, I didn’ ask ye tae take me in all those years ago!” Melion said with a smirk.

“And I didn’t ask you to break into my father’s slaughterhouse and pass out, and yet here we are.”

“Kay, ye got me there,” Melion chuckled. “But even so, dat’s still me niece in that room, so ah can’t just lie in me room all night doin’ nothin’. So if ye won’t let me help, sooner or later, ah’ll prolly be th’ one who’ll need tae be talked outta doin’ somethin’ stupid.”

“Wait, are you saying you’ll go to her about this? After we’ve just talked sense into Arthur about pretty much the same thing?”

“Course not, Harry! Ye couldn’ pay me tae see that woman again!”

“Speaking of Arthur,” Summer interjected, “perhaps I could wake him up for a bit if Melion’s going to be this stubborn?”

“Summer, don’t make the lad pull another shift after you just took over his,” Harold sighed. “He’s had a long day and he needs all the rest he can get.”

“Who said anything about him taking over? I just think after Melion talked some sense into him, he can return the favour.”

“Great,” Harold said, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure we won’t just have two stubborn asses insisting on keeping watch all night.”

“Spare the sarcasm dear, it’s worth a try,” Summer said as she started walking down the hall and turned around the left corner towards Arthur’s room.

Turning back towards Melion as his wife disappeared from sight, Harold asked, “So what were you proposing that’s so stupid?”

“I was meanin’ ah’d prolly go take a job huntin’ somethin’ way outta me league in hopes that’d earn me enough tae pay th’ wizards.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way Melion, but if you could make that much money off your line of work, you wouldn’t be spending most nights sleeping in the woods.”

“Oh come off it Harry, ye know exactly why I prefer it dat way. If ye didn’ insist on puttin’ me in yer guest room, ah’d just lay down in th’ barn whenever I visit.”

“I’m aware what you’re used to, but you know I can’t do that to a guest, much less my own brother!”

As the two continued their discussion, at the very end of the hallway past the corner, Summer gently knocked on Arthur’s door, calling to her son, “Arthur? Would you mind telling your uncle to go back to bed?”

When she didn’t hear a reply, Summer knocked a little bit louder and asked, “Arthur? Are you awake? Arthur?”

“Today must have been rougher on the lad than we thought,” Harold supposed as he overheard Summer’s attempts to wake their son. “I don’t remember him sleeping this heavily since he was in nappies.”

“Guess I’ll have to wake him the old-fashioned way,” Summer sighed, opening the door. “Arthur, I’m not going to call you again…“

But as Summer stepped into her son’s room to wake him up, she nearly tripped over her own feet in fright as she saw that her son was nowhere in sight. The bed in the corner of the room was perfectly made, completely untouched since the day before, and in the opposite corner Arthur’s wardrobe was wide open, with the cloak and traveller’s pack that normally hung on a hook inside the wardrobe door nowhere to be found.

Running back into the hall and around the corner, Summer shouted, “HE’S GONE!!!”

Harold and Melion immediately turned towards Summer, wide eyed with shock.

“Careful dear, you could wake Morgan!” Harold whispered worriedly as he strode towards the turn in the hallway to see for himself. “What do you mean, Arthur’s gone?!”

Shaking with panic, Summer elaborated, “ARTHUR ISN’T HERE! His bed hasn’t been touched since yesterday, and his closet is wide open with his cloak and bag missing!”

“You don’t think he-“

“Ah do,” Melion grumbled as he headed around the corner himself and into the guest room. Once inside, he crouched down and rummaged through his supplies piled up next to the door. Sorting through his coat, armour, shields, weapons and provisions of all kinds, Melion desperately searched for the one thing that could suggest they were mistaken somehow, only to find no sign.

“Just as ah thought,” he growled, thumping his fist on the wall. “The lad took me sword!”

“Damn it!” Harold cursed, no longer even trying to not wake his daughter. “We should have known it was too easy to convince the boy! And he could be anywhere in that forest by now!”

Sighing heavily, Melion grimly said, “There’s only way tae find th’ lad now.”

Striding towards Arthur’s room with his coat, armour and weapons underarm, he continued, “Ah’ll have to change.”

“Melion, are you sure?” Harold said cautiously. “After all these years we’ve kept your secret from them?”

As Melion reached Arthur’s door, Summer stepped aside to let him through. Desperately fighting to hold back her tears, she put a hand on Melion’s shoulder and told him, “Do what you have to. Whatever it takes, get my son back here safe.”

“Ah’ll do that or die tryin’. Ye have me word, Summer.”

As Summer passed him to join her husband, Melion entered Arthur’s room and approached the open closet, pulling out one of Arthur’s spare tunics. As he stuffed it under his arm his everything else, Melion came out and told Harry and Summer, “Ah’m gon to need to duck into yer barn to sniff him out. Ah’m sure none around here are even awake tae see me change, but it’s still best I do it outta sight jus’ in case.”

“Of course,” Harold said worriedly. But as he followed Melion as he was heading down the hall towards the door, he added, “You do realise this means we’ll probably have to explain everything to Arthur once you’ve brought him back.”

“Ah know,” Melion sighed as he opened the door, adding before he closed it, “But it was bound to happen, anyway.”

Swiftly and silently, Melion ran for the Butcher’s barn. He knew he might spook the animals inside as a result, but that was a risk he had to take. Unlocking the barn door with the spare key he always kept with him, he cautiously stepped inside and threw the tunic on the barn floor. Once he was sure no one could see him, Melion put on the leather doublet and fastened all his gear to himself. Finally, he pulled on his fur coat and got down on all fours, the fur of his coat swiftly enveloping his body…

O – O – O

“So, Arthur Butcher… do we have a bargain?”

From across the round table that sat before the roaring fireplace, the Witch of the Woods outstretched her long, slender arm for Arthur to take her hand, her sparkling amethyst eyes and their cat-like pupils trained down on Arthur as she waited for him to answer the question that would decide his sister’s fate. Arthur did not even hesitate to reach out and grasp her hand.

“We do.”

“In that case, we ought not to dawdle in sealing our contract,” the Witch said, her darkly coloured lips curved into a smile.

“So does that mean I’ll have to sign something?”

“You could say that in a metaphorical sense, but in literal terms, magical contracts are less concerned with written documents…”

“How so?”

The moment Arthur asked that question, the room began to darken as emerald flames swirled around where their hands were clasped together, the green firelight reflecting off of the Witch’s moonlight pale skin. Her long, onyx black hair began to rise up and fan out behind her like a cape in the wind, but Arthur felt no wind, and the house’s windows were not even open to let in such weather in the first place.

“Wait, what is this?” Arthur asked, his eyes widened in astonishment as he looked down at the emerald fire dancing around their hands, even as he felt no heat from them.

Raising an eyebrow curiously, the Witch mused, “So you can see it…”

“Yes, should I not be able to?”

“Oh, never you mind for now,” the Witch said nonchalantly. “The magical forces that govern our world will sometimes indulge in a flair for the dramatic. The important part is that you answer these questions…”

Arthur sighed. “Then let’s get this over with.”

“Very well,” the Witch smiled. “Do you, Arthur Butcher, vow to serve the Witch of the Woods for as long as you live?”

“Yes, I do.”

The moment Arthur gave that answer, the flames swirling around their hands began to coalesce into thin ropes of fire which wrapped around Arthur’s hand, but still they cast no heat, burning his skin no more than ropes of hemp would. The Witch continued, “And will you hold me to fulfill my end of this contract, as I will yours?”

“I will.”

The ropes of flames tightened around Arthur’s hand as they began to bind the Witch’s as well.

“And will you forevermore belong to the Witch and place all of her needs above your own, until the day the terms of this contract expire at your passing from this world to the next?”

Arthur tensed himself. This was starting to become all too real for him, but he had come too far to back out now.

“I will.”

“Then, Arthur Butcher,” the Witch smiled as the ropes of green flame became to dissipate into cinders, “we have a contract.”

O – O – O

At the same rocky cairn where a now deceased basilisk once made its lair, Melion’s arming sword lay on the ground, undisturbed since it had fell from Arthur’s hands as he was swallowed by the cave’s former resident. Undisturbed, that is, until this moment, as the snout of a great horse-sized canine lowered itself to just an inch above the blade and gave it a sniff. After a few sniffs, the newly arrived beast had its scent.

As the beast’s snout raised itself away from the sword to continue the hunt, the shadow falling upon the weapon began to change its shape, from that of a lupine beast to that of a towering human man. Once the shadow had fully transitioned to a static human shape, a burly hand reached down to grasp the sword’s hilt, upon which a gruff, accented voice sighed, “Damn the boy.”

O – O – O

As the tendrils of green flame binding the tow’s hands together finally dissipated, Arthur loosened his grip and pulled his hand away from his new mistress’s.

“So that’s it, then?” he asked. “The deal is done?”

“Your part is done,” the Witch replied. “However, there’s one part of the contract that I regrettably forgot to mention. This may sting a little, so I apologise in advance.”

Before Arthur could enquire what she meant, he noticed that the green flames of the contract had not fully evaporated, but had simply split into a thousand tiny strands of green cinders, which were now converging on the palm of his right hand with increasing speed. Once they had reached their full speed, the strands had all joined into a single vortex of flame that burned into Arthur’s palm, quickly disappearing into the skin of his hand. By the time Arthur had begun to grit his teeth from the pain, the sensation had gone entirely.

Arthur turned his hand around to see if the flames had left any marks. They had, but they did not look like any burn marks Arthur had seen. Instead of any scars or blisters, he saw a small mark no larger than a penny at the centre of his palm glowing with emerald green light, as if the flames had been embedded into his skin. Stranger still was the mark itself, which seemed to be a symbol of some kind. The symbol was a single circular (or was it ovular?) centre with eight lines branching off of it? Some kind of spider, maybe? No, it looked more like the conjoined serpentine heads of a hydra, or was that the roots or branches of a great tree? Every time Arthur was sure he had worked out what the symbol was depicting, he immediately thought of something he thought that it resembled more.

Deciding he was getting nowhere trying to figure out what this mark was supposed to look like, Arthur decided to focus on the reason for the mark itself, asking the Witch, “What is this?”

“Yes, I really should have warned you first,” the Witch said with a chuckle of embarrassment. “That mark is essentially the dog tags on your collar. I am far from the only magical being who takes mortals for servants, but not all are as inclined to be as transparent about such agreements as I am. Some will not even give the mortals unlucky enough to encounter them a choice in the matter before taking them as property. This mark will let such beings know just who you belong to and remind them to keep their hands off.”

“’Who I belong to,’” Arthur grimly repeated, the gravity of what he had agreed to finally sinking in. “So there’s no going back now, is there?”

“I’m afraid not, child,” the Witch said sympathetically.

“Will I get to see my family again?”

“Of course, Arthur. I still have to fulfill my end of the bargain after all, and I imagine we will have travel to your home so I can see to your sister’s condition. And even then, you will not need to leave them right away, so you will have ample time to say your final goodbyes.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Arthur said with a sigh of relief. While still immensely saddened by the situation, knowing he would not have to leave his family immediately made Arthur feel a bit better. “How long will I have, then?”

“I am open to negotiate the exact date for you to begin your service to me, but I am unlikely to need and extra pair of hands too badly before the winter and even then not likely before the eve of the Solstice.”

“Well Miss, I suppose we should get on to business, then. When do we leave?”

Before the Witch could even answer, the two were interrupted by the loud sound of something large colliding with the Witch’s front door, said door violently fracturing from the impact despite the metal bracing. Whatever had attacked the door charged again, completely shattering the barricade in its path and sliding through the doorway. Arthur looked upon the intruder and froze up in fear when he saw that a ferocious warg larger than the ones he had hid from in the forest stood at the Witch’s front door, slowly beginning to stalk towards them. A gigantic, black furred wolf the size of a warhorse, it bared its tusk-like canine teeth and glaring at the both of them with amber coloured eyes that burned like hot coals in front of its scar-covered face.

As Arthur slowly backed away in fear as the great wolf approached, he slowly looked to the Witch, who just calmly continued to stand in place, simply observing the bestial intruder with no stronger a reaction than a glance of curiosity. Arthur was expecting her to reduce the warg to mist like he had to the basilisk, but instead she coyly smiled and said, “Well, this is a surprise, Melion. Although I do wish you had of knocked.”

Arthur looked back to the warg in confusion. Did she just call this beast by his uncle’s name? Surely it was a coincidence, he thought. No doubt the Witch could speak with animals, and gave them names in human speech. After all, how uncommon a name could ‘Melion’ be, anyway?

That thought was immediately shattered however, when the warg angrily replied to the Witch’s comment in a familiar, guttural accent, “Ah did knock.”

As Arthur stood agape in disbelief, the huge wolf standing before him began to change. Fur receded from the beast’s head and limbs, eventually parting from its body entirely to become a familiar furred coat. The warg’s snout shrank into its face until it was nothing more than a wide human nose and mouth, surrounded by a bushy black beard. The warg’s legs began to reshape themselves into human limbs, the toes of its front paws extending into human fingers and the wrists of the hind legs shrinking to the relative size of human ankles. The transformation complete, the man that was once a beast pushed himself up to stand on two legs, revealing the scarred face of Arthur’s Uncle Melion, fully armoured, brandishing the very sword Arthur had lost earlier in his brush with death, and looking just short of frothing with rage.

Utterly astounded by what he just saw, Arthur could only stare and say, “Uncle? But how…”

“Oh, ye’ve got far more pressin’ things tae worry ‘bout, boy!” Melion roared furiously. “We all told ye not to go into th’ woods on yer own, but ye did it behind all our backs and took me sword to boot! Wot were ye thinking; ye could’ve gotten yerself killed! And ‘sidering I found me sword next to a feckin’ basilisk lair, I reckon ye almost did! So wot do ye have tae say for yerself, boy?!?”

Shuddering in fear, Arthur struggled to find the words to respond to his uncle’s demands, only managing to get out an, “Well Uncle, I, I…” before he was interrupted by the Witch.

“’Uncle?’” she repeated inquisitively, her head cocked to one side. “You mean to say you two are related?” Pausing briefly to break into an amused smile, she continued, “I suppose this old wolf must have found a new pack after all.”

“Can it, hag!” Melion snarled.

“Well that was rude. Is this really about Arthur, or are you still upset about that day, I wonder?”

“That’s no concern of yers!” Melion barked back, pointing his sword right at the Witch. “Now if ye don’ mind, an’ even still if ye do, I’m taking me nephew home before he makes th’ mistake of dealing with ye.”

“That may prove difficult,” the Witch sighed as she exchanged a loaded look with Arthur. “We sealed the contract just before you arrived.”

“WOT?!” Melion yelled, nearly dropping his sword in shock. He quickly looked to his nephew, looking scared but no less angry, and asked, “Please, say it ain’t so, Arty! Please tell me the old hag’s pullin’ me leg!”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur could only open his hand and show Melion the glowing sigil etched into his palm.

At first Arthur was sure that his uncle was going to yell at him again, but instead the old huntsman ran up to Arthur and hugged him tightly, nearly squeezing the breath out of Arthur.

“Arty, ye damned fool,” Melion chastised his nephew tearfully. “Ah’d hoped ye’d know better than make tae same mistake ah did! Ye damned fool…”

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Arthur sighed as tears began to well up in his eyes as well. “But I couldn’t just stay at home and watch Morgan die.”

“Well, wot’s done is done, I suppose,” Melion said bitterly, breaking his embrace with his nephew. “An’ I should know better n’ anyone that you couldn’ back outta a pact with th’ hag even if ye wanted to.”

Turning his back to Arthur and heading for the door, Melion said, “We best be off, then. Yer folks ‘r worried sick ‘bout ye, so we should get ye home soon as we can.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay for tea, Melion?” the Witch inquired as Arthur began to follow his uncle. “There should be plenty of hot water still in the kettle, and we could take the opportunity to catch up since last time. Besides, I may need you two to show me to Arthur’s house so I can see to the patient.”

“Ye can find yer own way, ye old witch,” Melion snapped as he and Arthur were almost out the door. “Sides, if yer tea’s as good as last time, ah’d rather drink mud.”

The way Melion stomped through the Witch’s doorway, Arthur was sure his uncle would have slammed the door shut behind them if it were still attached.

Once the two had walked far enough that the Witch’s cottage was but a blur in the distance behind them, Melion stopped and got down on all fours again to change, his fur coat expanding to envelop his entire body as his human shape changed back into that of a wolf.

“Get on,” Melion said as he turned his head back to look at Arthur. “We’ll get back sooner like this.”

Lacking both the courage and the inclination to argue with a warg with the mind of an angry family member, Arthur climbed onto Melion’s back, tightly gripping the fur of his neck for lack of any reins, and the old wolf swiftly strode into the forest.

O – O – O

Arthur and Melion travelled in silence for the bulk of their journey home. Given the urgency to return home and explain the situation, Arthur had expected his uncle to take the direct path home uninterrupted, but that was not the case. While there were many long stretches that the old warg would travel straight towards the forest’s exit, there were many times where he would stop to sniff the air and take a detour, and in a few of those instances Arthur would catch a brief glimpse of what looked like another creature’s nest or the entrance to a lair of some kind, or even the light of a campfire accompanied by the chattering of some inhuman language.

There was even one time when Melion would whisper to Arthur to keep quiet before ducking into some underbrush for the two to hide, neither daring to make a sound as the sound of massive footfalls thundered by, Arthur not even wanting to know what kind of beast they were hiding from. It was not until minutes after the thunderous steps ceased that Melion would cautiously poke his nose out of the underbrush to check if the coast was clear, fully emerging soon afterward for the two to continue their journey.

It was not until the two had made it close enough to the end of their journey could Arthur could again see the sky through the tree tops that Melion broke the silence, asking as softly as he could, “So, are ye doin’ all right, Arty?”

“Oh!” Arthur said startled, still not quite used to his uncle’s voice coming out of a giant wolf’s mouth. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve just had a long night is all.”

“Yer gonna be havin’ a lot of those from now on, no doubt. Getting involved with that woman has led to many things, but an uneventful life is not one of ‘em. I just wish I could have stopped ye before it was too late.” With a sigh, Melion asked his nephew, “What exactly went down b’fore I arrived, anyhow?”

Arthur told his uncle everything, from nearly being devoured by the basilisk, to being rescued by the Witch and following her to her cottage, all the way up to the moment when he accepted a lifetime of servitude under her in exchange for Morgan’s return to perfect health.

“Guess I can’t exactly blame ye for taking th’ offer given the alternative,” Melion reasoned. “But take it from me, if me own experiences are any metric t’ go by, ye’ll spend th’ rest of yer days blaming yourself for whatever happens next.”

“So then Uncle, how do you two know each other? From the way she spoke to you, it didn’t sound like you only met her once and never again…”

Melion sighed. “Look lad, me history with that witch is a long an’ complicated tale, and I don’ like talkin’ ‘bout it much. But suffice to say, I made a bargain with her once. Didn’ even think twice about it, so eager was I to finally taste what I thought I wanted. I didn’ even think ‘bout wot I was givin’ up till ‘twas too late. I’d rather not get into what I asked her for, but long story short, it’s the reason I’m… like this.”

“She gave you the power to turn into a wolf?”

If a wolf were ever capable of anything close to smirking, that’s how Arthur would describe the look on his uncle’s snout. “Nah, she gave me the power to turn into a man.”

Arthur jolted in shock at the revelation. “Wait, you’re saying you weren’t human from the start?”

“I’ve been a warg my whole life, lad. ‘S why I’ve never been comfortable sleepin’ in a bed. Hell, yer Pop’s offered me a job on the farm more times than I could count, saying in case I got tired of hunting, but I like havin’ a job that keeps me where I’m most comfortable, out here in the wild.”

“So why’d you want to become human then?”

“I didn’. That’s just how she went about giving me wot I did want.”

Arthur was about to inquire what exactly that was, but he decided he was intruding on his uncle’s personal life enough as it was. So, he decided to change the subject to something not unrelated, but hopefully less painful for Melion to discuss.

“Uncle, that reminds me… do Ma and Pa know about all this?”

“About wot? You running off on yer own? Course they do, yer Mum found out ‘fore I did!”

“No, I mean…” Arthur began before he paused to think of the most tactful way to phrase his question. After a few seconds of consideration, he decided to dispense with tact altogether and said, “About you being a… werewolf, I think?”

“Oh, that,” Melion realised, seemingly just noticing that it was worth mentioning. “Yeah, they know. Was part of how I yer Dad and I yet an’ the reason he adopted me into this family. It wasn’ till a while later that he met yer Mum. Between everyone under yer roof, you an’ only Morgan and ye didn’ know.”

“So why did you hide it from us?”

“Hey, I never hid anything from ye two! I jus’ chose to not mention it when ye were around is all.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this than, ‘you never asked?’”

“Well true, we didn’ exactly want ye to know, either. It’s not really something I want a lot of folks to know. After all, wot would people tink if they knew yer uncle was a werewolf?”

While not exactly happy that Melion and his parents had never told him, he could see the logic behind their choice. After all, all of the stories about werewolves he had heard were of men cursed to become feral beasts in the night that would slaughter all in their path, or of godless tribes of savages in the north with the power to take the form of monstrous wolves to lay waste to defenseless villages. Obviously Melion did not fit into either category, but Arthur doubted most superstitious mobs tended to let their victims explain their side of the story before burning them at the stake. Of course Melion and Arthur’s parents would want to let as few people in on the secret as possible.

Melion sighed. “Look lad, about what I said back at the cottage… I’m sorry. I really should have told ye wot I knew when we were back at yer folks’ place. Maybe I could have stopped ye from making the choice ye did.”

Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea. “Uncle, if I could have been stopped by a little thing like knowing the price of the Witch’s help, do you think I’ve have gone into a monster-infested forest back when I thought her being a man-eating hag was a possibility?”

Melion gave a hearty laugh himself before admitting, “Kay, ye got me there, lad. Sometimes it’s hard to believe yer not me own cub.”

Arthur could not help not join his uncle in the laughing. Minutes passed, until the morning’s first rays of sunlight broke through the trees, illuminating the road back to town up ahead. It was just then that Melion came to a stop.

“Ah tink here’s where ye should get off, Arty,” Melion told Arthur. “It’s prolly not th’ best idea for ye to ride into town on top of a warg in broad daylight. Best ah change an’ we hoof it back to yer folks’ place together.”

“Agreed,” Arthur said as he climbed off of Melion’s back, the thoughts of werewolf-hunting mobs still fresh in his mind. As soon as Arthur had fully dismounted, Melion began to change back to his familiar form. The moment Arthur’s uncle had returned to his human shape, he looked down at his nephew, who gave a nod and the two headed for town.

O – O – O

Back at the Butcher household, the mood around the house had gotten no less heated than when Arthur’s parents had noticed he was gone.

“Summer, calm down…” Harold Butcher appealed to his wife, his meaty hands raised in front of him.

“Calm down?!” Summer burst out, seeming ready to explode at any moment. “Harold, how could you possibly be calm at a time like this? Our son is out there in the most dangerous place in spitting distance of this village, at risk of losing his way and getting eaten by whatever beast may find him if he doesn’t find that witch, or possibly worse if he does find her!”

“You think I’m any less worried than you are, Summer? Ever since Morgan fell ill, I’ve been beside myself with worry, and now this!”

Harold took a deep breath and sighed heavily as he lowered his arms to his sides. “I’ve been putting on a brave face for this family,” he continued, “but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep it up.”

Taking a deep breath herself, Summer took a seat at the kitchen table and said sadly, “I’m sorry, Harold. People have always said I wear my heart on my sleeve, and now, as a mother, I can’t pretend to be calm amid all this. Not when I know I could lose both our children.”

Walking over to his wife, Harold leaned down and clasped her hands in his and said, “I know. This might be hard, but we have to be strong through this. Especially since we might wake Morgan. The last thing we need to is get her worried about Arthur in her condition.”

“You’re right dear,” Summer sighed, holding her husband’s hand tight. “Just two people worried sick in this house is enough. But my worry is made so much worse knowing our son could be making a grave mistake trying to make us right for us all. And I wonder if either of us would have made that mistake if we were in his position at that age…”

As if on cue, the house’s front door creaked open, and the Butchers turned their heads to the door to see their son walk through with Melion behind him.

“Hey,” Arthur said awkwardly as his uncle leaned down to walk through the door behind him. “I’m back.”

Arthur was not looking forward to what was sure to come next. His father had his arms crossed, his face bearing a scowl of disapproval, while his mother looked absolutely furious with her tear-stained face fuming more fiercely than a boiling kettle.

With a deep sigh, Arthur began to say, “Look, I’m sorry that I-“ only for his mother to run get out of her chair and run towards him at top speed and hug him as tight as she possibly could.

“Oh Arthur, my baby!” Summer cried as she only tightened her embrace. “I’m so glad you’re home safely!”

“Yeah,” he sighed, hugging just as tightly. “Well, I’m sorry that I worried all of you.”

“Apology accepted,” Summer said softly as the two continued their embrace, only for her to give her son a light smack at the back of the head and sharply asked him, “What in the Green Goddess’s name were you thinking, running off like that?! You could have gotten yourself killed in that forest, or worse! Who knows what could have happened if your Uncle hadn’t stopped you in time?”

Summer waited for her child to answer, only to receive a grim silence in return. Summer looked up at Melion, waiting for him to confirm what she wanted to hear, only for him to solemnly shake his head. Even Harold widened his eyes in shock as he shuddered in realisation of what this meant.

“Arthur?” Summer said worriedly as she looked back down on her son. “You and Melion are scaring me. Surely your uncle managed to stop you before you saw the Witch… right?”

Arthur’s silence lingered for a few seconds more. Then he opened his mouth, and out can the one word Summer feared he would hear, but that she knew he would say anyway.

“No.”

Shaking as he continued to embrace her child, eyes widened with shock even as tears continued to pour down her face, Summer whimpered, “My sweet, stupid boy… what have you done? What did you promise?”

Just as Arthur inhaled a deep breath so he could explain everything, a soft, familiar voice rang from everywhere in the house, “Only that which I promised to give in return.”

As everyone in the house rapidly looked around the house to see where the voice was coming from, Arthur’s shadow began to swell up and a great, dark shape rose up from it, nearly grazing the ceiling above them as it began to take a human shape, the darkness swirling to become a familiar pitch black hair and clothes and revealing glowing skin as pale as moonlight.

As Arthur’s mother looked up in horror at the shimmering amethyst eyes staring down at her, the Witch closed her eyes with a gentle smile and politely asked, “Now that your question has been answered, may you be so kind as to show me to the patient?”