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The MidKnight took a pull from her flask while staring up at the sky. A light breeze played in her mane, carrying with it the various scents of the encampment not far away. Cooking food mingled with the musk of horses, the bitter tang of sweat, the stench of manure and the flat stale smell of old hides. Oiled leather and pounded metals. The coppery tang of spilled blood.

The sound of approaching footsteps caused the doe to twist one ear in the direction of the sound, but she gave no other outward indication that she paid any attention. There was always a buzz of activity in the camp, and Nadirah was well used to the coming and going of the soldiers as they went about their busywork. She often sought solace in the tent she shared with the kentaur stallion or in the uncaring darkness of night, choosing to sit just outside of the reach of the torches.

The first few weeks she had left the confines of the camp she had been challenged, mistaken for an intruder or wild animal in the night. A few had grumbled rumors about her still being under the influence of the Undead King. Eventually, however, her presence had simply been accepted and she was usually left alone. Usually.

The footsteps stopped, drawing her attention back to the present. “Wolfcaller?” A voice whispered to her. “Is that you? Is it alright if I approach?”

Nadirah sighed and drooped her shoulders as she recognized the voice. Several of the soldiers looked at the MidKnight differently than the others. Instead of fear and distrust, she saw awe and delight in their eyes. Instead of a monster, they saw her as a misunderstood hero whose great deeds had been corrupted by the necromancer's influence. They often believed her to be the savior of the world. The tired doe didn't know which view was worse.

“What do you want this time, Camwell?” She muttered irritably and took another swallow from her flask. The bitter brew burned its way down her throat and warmed her belly with its flames. It was the only warmth she felt anymore outside of combat.

The young human, Wren Camwell, walked over and sat next to the MidKnight. “How are you doing this evening, Wolfcaller?” She asked cheerfully.

Nadirah wanted to kill her. The fact that the young woman was supposed to be an ally made for a thin leash, but it held for the time being. “As good as any other night.” Nadirah replied testily. “What do you want, fleshie? I'm busy.”

Camwell giggled. “Of course you are.” She said. “I was just hoping I could ask you about something. I've been curious for a while but I wanted to ask you.... in private. Away from other listening ears.”

Nadirah sighed and hung her head. Another glory hound who wanted to know all about her so called adventures. They would ask her about the silliest of details, or ask how she felt, or sometimes want to chat with her about honor and righteousness.

“I wanted to.... ask you about Commander Jori.” Camwell continued, her tone as cheerful as if discussing the weather.

The doe lifted her head and looked at the human. “Jori?” She repeated. This was a new topic. “What about him?”

“Well,” Camwell suddenly became shy, reaching up to play with a strand of her hair before answering. “You see, we were just wondering if...”

“We?” Nadirah interrupted. It was too dark to see the woman's blush, but she felt the tickle of her discomfort, absorbing the emotion like water to a sponge.

Camwell cleared her throat. “I meant, um, I. Me. I was wondering. Just me.”

“Uh huh.” The doe replied with disinterest at the obvious lie. “You were wondering?”

“Well, you see...” She started again, relaxing when her fumble went unchallenged. “You mean a lot to the commander. He calls you that nickname, you share a tent, and he.... he tends to talk funny when you're around.” She paused again, then suddenly turned her whole body to face the doe. “Are the two of you mates or something?”

Nadirah gave an amused snort and one side of her mouth curled upward in a flash of a grin. “Or something.” She answered. “Is that seriously what you, just you, were wondering about?”

Wren sighed in disappointment. “Well, yeah. I mean, I'm not actually the only one wondering, either. We all see how he acts around you. Do you remember all the things he did before? Like, after we captured you again?”

The doe shook her head. “No. I don't really remember much after I was turned. Most of my memory is from when I woke up to voices near by. I assumed they were minions of Malthamus. Which is why I ran.”

The human nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. “That makes sense. I was surprised you didn't tear the whole place apart, myself.” Her mouth pulled down slightly to form a frown. “He blamed himself, you know.”

“Jori?” Nadirah asked.

Camwell nodded. “Uh huh. For the whole thing. He would talk to us about you all the time, you know. How brave you were, how nothing could stand in your way. He said it was his fault that you wee killed, too. You were distracted trying to help him and that's the only reason they were able to beat you. And when you took off, he wanted to go after you himself immediately. Said he never should have left your side. We barely talked him out of it.”

Nadirah lifted her head to look up at the sky. The silenced stretched out, broken only by the woman's occasional fidgeting. “What else has he said?” She finally asked.

“Oh, he doesn't say much, really. Unless he's talking about you. There were plenty of times when he would spend entire nights beside your cot, just softly talking about all of the trouble you two used to get into together and how you would always find a way to come out on top. He even told us about the time an ocean monster swallowed you whole and after several days you showed back up again, riding on its back like some water horse.”

“That's not quite how that happened.” The doe interjected.

“He said that the Undead King himself was using every ounce of his strength to keep you under his control, and that's why we've been seeing so much less of him since he took you.” The woman continued. “You were worth an army all by yourself, though. We lost so many trying to bring you back. We don't even have most of their bodies to bury.” She sighed softly, then hurriedly added, “Not that it's your fault, mind. We all know that you weren't yourself then.”

“I was not.” The doe affirmed.

“He went after you himself, too.” Camwell continued as if Nadirah hadn't spoken. “Just the two of you facing off. He was the only one who even came close to matching you in skill, but you still nearly killed him a few times.”

“I did?” The doe asked.

“Oh yeah.” Camwell replied with an emphatic nod. “There were a few times that he barely managed to drag himself a safe distance away. Then he slept for days while our best healers worked around the clock on keeping him alive. We begged him to stop, but he would just say that it was his fault you became a MidKnight in the first place, so it was his job to bring you home.”

Nadirah scowled and twisted her head to look at the human. “What? It was never his fault. Malthamus wanted me specifically and there was nothing he could have done to stop him.”

“You'd think you were his little lost puppy, the way he fought to get you back from the Undead King.” The woman turned her head to return the doe's gaze, a knowing smile barely visible on her lips in the dim torch light of the encampment. “Or his mate.”

“A stupid, stubborn fool from the day I met him.” Nadirah replied, not rising to the bait. “Gods protect fools too stubborn to die, I guess.”

“You two sound like a matched pair, huh?” Camwell snickered and gave the doe a friendly elbowing. Nadirah snorted in irritation, her glowing eyes growing brighter as her anger grew. The young woman immediately quieted, then cleared her throat nervously as a feeling of unease began to settle over her.

“You are beginning to annoy me, fleshie.” Nadirah warned coldly. “Perhaps you should leave, before this army of yours finds itself without yet another body to bury.”

Camwell giggled nervously, casting her gaze anywhere but the MidKnight. “Sorry. It's just that... Never mind. It doesn't really matter.”

The doe slowly calmed, returning her gaze to the sky, the fading glow of her eyes lost to the stars. “Very well then.”

Camwell scooted around on the grass, turning her whole body to face the doe. “Do you have any idea what all he did for you while you were under the Undead King's control?” Her voice rising to turn the question into an exclamation. Both of her arms curled against her chest in a pleading gesture.

“I believe that was already discussed.” The doe replied coldly.

“He pushed himself to the edge of death, repeatedly.” Camwell continued as if the tarin hadn't spoken. “He spent entire days and nights coming up with plans to capture you unharmed. He forbid any of us to hurt a hair on your tail. Not even to save our own lives. Then when we finally did manage to take you back, you continued to fight us. Nothing but insults and death threats, constantly. You swore to do some of the most vile things to him as soon as you got free again, and do you know what he did? He just stood there and took it. Every nasty name you called him, every threat you made, he just took it all and didn't even raise his voice to tell you to shut up.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Nadirah quipped.

“Several times you even tried to attack him. You'd manage to get an arm loose and try to hit him or something, but he never got upset. As soon as you were restrained again he would calmly tell you that it was going to be ok. That he was going to save you from the necromancer. And for a time, it looked like his control of you was slipping, but we couldn't figure out how to break the connection, so he had us go out again. Capture ghouls and bring them back... well, alive isn't really the right word, but you know what I mean.

“We experimented on them. Tried everything we could think of to free them. We had a few successes, but most of them died. We managed to capture another MidKnight, freshly turned. It wasn't easy because he used to be one of ours. And during all of this, the commander never left your side longer than he had to. He wanted his face to be the first thing you saw when you finally came back.”

“What happened to the other MidKnight?” Nadirah interrupted.

“He died. It was weird because at almost the exact same time, you went into a deep sleep that we couldn't wake you from. The commander thought you'd died too, at first. He said better for you to find peace than be enslaved. But you didn't. We think it was some sort of psychic attack by the Undead King to keep us from freeing his minions. He'd rather you all dead than used against him. But it didn't work. You held on. That's when he began to call you death's rejected child. He used to tell us that even death itself was afraid to face your wrath.”

“The elf said something along those lines as well.” Nadirah replied with a sigh. “Are you sure it was Jori that said all this?”

“Oh yeah. He talked about you a lot.” Camwell explained. “He talked to you a lot, too. He rarely left your side while you slept. And he fed you.” The woman paused and let out a small shudder, her voice lowering as she spoke again. Nadirah could feel the prickle of her concern. “He, um... When ever we caught a prisoner, or if anyone in camp got into serious trouble... he had them brought to you, and he would use that sword you have there. He would use it to... cut them. Usually across the throat, but not always. As long as they would bleed a lot. And the blood was allowed to drip into your mouth.”

The MidKnight frowned and was glad that her face was hidden by the darkness.

“You always seemed to get stronger after a feeding. You never woke up, but you were healthy. If anyone spoke up against it, or said anything bad about you, they were also fed to you. Sometimes they were allowed to see the healers afterwards and saved. Not always. But he always slept there next to you. Did you know that you finally woke up when he left?

“We finally talked him into sleeping in his own tent for the first time since we brought you in. He was so exhausted. We told him that if you hadn't woken up by now you weren't likely to now. But just in case you did, he ordered a rotating guard. He was to be notified the moment you stirred. None of us expected you to do anything. And then... Well, you know what happened next.”

“Yeah.” She said softly.

“The commander blamed himself. He said he never should have left you, and we barely kept him from going after you himself. Instead he sent out his best trackers. He was restless until you finally showed up on that... thing you were riding. After that he's been a completely different kentaur.”

“Hm.” Was the doe's only response. The silence grew heavy as it came to rest over the pair once again.

Camwell kept tossing glances at the doe before looking away and back again. When she showed no intention of speaking, she finally cleared her throat. “Ok, so, if he's not mate material, what is he to you, then?”

Nadirah lowered her head, ears folding back thoughtfully. She thought about all the two of them had been through together. He had stood by her when all others had fled. He had never had any expectations or demands, yet he was always there for her when all she needed was quiet company. He was comfort. He was loyalty. He was home. “He's my friend.” She finally replied softly.

Tired of the conversation, the doe rose to her feet and turned away from the woman, walking slowly back to camp.

“Wait!” She heard Camwell calling out behind her. “What do you mean, 'he's my friend'? That's it? That's all he means to you? Just a 'friend'?! You're really that much of an ungrateful bothersome terri-” Nadirah lifted her hand and curled her fingers into a loose fist, the glow of her eyes intensifying. Behind her she heard a soft whoosh, and then silence as the woman's words were cut off. She then lowered her hand again and relaxed, continuing on her way back to the encampment.

A soft breeze stirred the empty grass behind her.

The large tent was dark as Nadirah approached, the soft glow of her eyes seeming to swallow the little light that remained rather than shedding its own. Giving a tired sigh, the doe pulled apart the flaps and stepped inside, surprised to find the Kentaur Stallion already laying across his own bed, which consisted of little more than a pile of dry grass covered with a soft blanket. “Oh. Jori.”

The stallion lifted his head to look at her as she spoke his name, but said nothing.

Nadirah looked down at her companion, thinking about everything she had been told by the human and everything she had felt, struggling to find the words to express what she wanted to say. The stallion stared at her silently, offering only his patience.

“Jori....Thank you.” She finally said, her voice heavy with her emotions.

The stallion nodded in acknowledgment.

Nadirah nodded back, and then allowed the tent flaps to fall closed behind her as she went to her own bed and stretched out. Nothing more needed to be said between them.