Exhaustion weighed on Caleb’s heels, lead weights that dragged him down urging him to rest upon the comfortable bed awaiting him upstairs. Two packed days in a row, featuring both physical and emotional turmoil proved more than enough to drain even the most energetic twelve-year-old. His body ached in a dozen different places, Hazel’s purple restoration potion having done its work and faded back into obscurity. Carefully he pressed at some of the bruising scattered across his arms, chest, and face, exploring the many injuries reveling in the story each held. Every single one a testament to his efforts. A small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. He could just imagine the other children at Red Twig, and the jealousy in their eyes when he told his story, of all the adventures he took and interesting people he met and friendships he forged. How many could lay claim to having helped save an entire magical city? He would be the hero of Eagletown and Thorn, a feat worthy of knighthood surely. That would put a stop to Miss Ardia’s scorn.

	He could recall the stern matron of nearly a year prior, dragging him inside by his arm and dumping him unceremoniously into a wooden tub, its soapy contents being considerably less than warm. Every orphan received a bath on a weekly basis, though some Caleb included, were more resistant to the scheduled washing, requiring the firm hand of the head mistress to ensure the cleansing mission was completed in a proper manner.

	Caleb emerged from the soapy depths, spouting water, and giggling, mildly resisting Ardia’s attempts to search his dark hair for lice and other pests. “Ah, Miss Ardia I was practicing swordsmanship, every knight needs to know how to fight.” He rubbed water from his eyes, and in doing so splashed some onto the matron’s apron. The older woman’s lips turned down into a look of fearsome disapproval, and she dunked the child beneath the surface, a bit rougher than she should have. Letting him reemerge she took to him with soap and rag, clucking her tongue irritably.

	“Practicing swordsmanship, bah, it looked to me like you were rolling in the dirt. Besides foolish boy, knights are the sons of the nobility. You might be many things Caleb Crowsnest, but of noble birth is not one of them.”

	“Or, or!” Caleb argued, as he always did whenever this conversation arose. “By noble act of courage, gallantry, and selflessness where the lord or king deems the achiever worthy of such honor as knighthood.” Caleb long since memorized the letter of the law, that could potentially allow an orphaned peasant boy the distinction of reaching this most desired position, usually privileged only to the aristocracy. Rare though the award might be the addendum meant it was possible.

	Ardia snorted, pulling him from the bath and toweling him dry. “As if you could ever manage that. Keep your head close to the ground Crowsnest, and put these foolish dreams to rest, you will keep yourself from getting hurt that way. Get dressed and run along now. And do try to stay clean!”

	A gentle pull on Caleb’s hand grounded him back in the present. “Mister Caleb?” Roger’s voice held a note of concern, and he observed the child more closely. They were standing in the Nieve’s household kitchen, and Roger had just finished putting together a quick sandwich for the child to eat before he was put to bed. “Are you quite alright? You seem to have drifted off there for a moment.”

	He gave himself a little shake, letting the last dregs of the memory fade. “Yeah, I’m fine. Only tired that’s all.” He assured the doctor. “Thanks.” He remembered to say when Roger gave him the food. He bit into the bread and meat hungrily, having forgotten the last time he had the chance to eat.

	Sitting the boy down and letting him finish the quick meal Roger set about making several more for the rest of the family, who were no doubt starving as well. “I’m certain you are tired, more like completely fatigued after today. Once you finish you can take John’s old bed upstairs again, he will no doubt be sleeping on the infirmary one down in my office.”

	His face fell, and the food turned to ash in his mouth. Setting the half-finished sandwich down he forced himself to swallow, his grumbling stomach forgotten. “Is John going to be alright?” Caleb asked, a conflict of both spite and concern waging in his heart.

	The fleshless hands stilled in their work, his skull dipping slightly. “I don’t…” Roger caught himself and resumed the finishing touches on the platter. “John is one of the most stubborn individuals I know, he’s strong, and has every reason to live. If anyone could survive such an ordeal, it would be him. Besides, he will have world renown doctor, and a potion master attending him.”

	“Oh, alright then.” Roger seemed convinced, and he made sound arguments. Caleb resumed eating, feeling moderately better. Byures, John, all of them could be saved from the brink of death, besides outside forces best efforts to finish them off. Caleb felt a happy thrum in his heart and he finished his meal jumping up from the kitchen table despite himself. “Hey Roger.”

	The doctor turned from his work. “Yes?”

	“Could I go out to Edward first, I know you’re going to be busy, but I can find the upstairs on my own once I get too tired. If its alright of course. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

	The doctor wanted to deny the request, seeing the dark rings around Caleb’s eyes, and the no doubt numerous bumps and scratches that needed rest to heel. Yet, he could not bring himself to say no, not right now. “Very well, but you need sleep. Do not be out too long. He’s probably worried about you as well, so it’s for the best I suppose.”

	Giving the doctor a heartfelt thanks you Caleb scurried from the kitchen, passing through the parlor on the way to the back door. He paused just long enough to collect Flower, the seagull squawking happily at the boy’s presence. She hopped onto his shoulder and pecked at his ear, in a friendly but ‘don’t leave me again’ manner. Her injured wing was still tightly wrapped in its makeshift cast, but she looked much better after a full day of preening and rest. Thus, reunited with the first companion he made on his journey Caleb entered the Nieve’s garden space, spotting the golden equine at once. Edward gave an excited shout running to meet his friend halfway.

	“You’re alright!” He whinnied, not even trying to conceal the relief in his voice. The young hippocampus pressed his head against Caleb’s chest, until the boy wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck.

	“Of course, I am.” He chuckled releasing the embrace and stepping back. “You said I would be, remember?”

	“I was still worried.” Edward pawed at the turf, looking slightly embarrassed. “After I saw all those gnomes, going inside. There were so many… I ran for help but what if I wasn’t fast enough…? And Sara and Roger, they are only two people. What if I was wrong and you did get hurt, really hurt.”

	“Our friend saved us.” Caleb explained, trying to spare his friend’s guilt. “Byrues the Hunter, he was amazing… Its kind of a long story actually. A lot happened after we went inside.”

	They settled inside the stables to each tell their version of events. Edward lay down in the hay, and Caleb rested his head against the horse’s broad chest while Flower perched above them, watching over both youth as they swapped tales. They soon lost track of time, and when no on came out to find him Caleb felt himself starting to drift. The unorthodox conditions were oddly comfortable, the hay felt soft and the air warm. Evening shadows cloaked the stable in cozy darkness, and Edward had long since fallen asleep. Glancing up he could see Flower, her head tucked under her good wing. Edward’s rhythmic breathing was lulling, and Caleb lacked the energy to move. Deciding the effort of returning to his offered bed upstairs would be too much Caleb let himself slowly slip into unconsciousness…