"He's still there," Tarrin replied. "Still smithing. Some people think he's tougher than stone, because he's more fit than men half his age."

"Dals are like that," he told the younger Were-cat. "That man was from Daltochan, or my tail is pink."

"He's a Dal," Tarrin affirmed. "Of course, now, there are probably more Dals there," he said with a grunt.

"I heard about that. Well, don't worry too much about it, cub. Dals aren't a very savage lot. They'll treat the people in the land they occupy fair."

"It's not them I'm worried about. I heard that the Dals made arrangements with some of the Goblinoids that live in the mountains. There are Goblinoids in the Dal army."

Thean looked sharply at him. "I think that would be impossible, cub. Goblinoids hate humans. They'd never agree to that."

"I have it from a reliable source, Thean," he said. "I trust it." "Hmm," he hummed. "Sathon has a grove a few days out of Aldreth. I think I'll send a message to him and ask about this."

"Sathon?"

"A Druid," he answered. "The Druid of Westedge. He's responsible for watching the Woodkin who live near Aldreth, and watching the humans in Aldreth to make sure they don't spill onto our land."

"I didn't know about that."

"I doubt you would have. Sathon doesn't leave his grove often, because there are enough Were-kin near Aldreth for them to get him what he needs. It also gives them a chance to get a little exposure to humans."

"Triana told me about that. How some Were bring cubs there."

Thean nodded. "Aldreth is something of a training area for younglings. It's a good thing it's there. Whatever possessed you people to live so far out?"

"Exactly," he replied. "My parents moved there because it is so far out. Everyone else who's there always lived there. So for them, it's just home."

"Don't you ever worry about raids?"

"We've never had problems with raids," he replied. "My father always thought it was because of the Frontier. Goblinoids are afraid to come out of the mountains."

"That's why they're afraid. Were-kin hate Goblinoids. We kill them whenever we find them."

"So I guess the Woodkin protect the villagers from Goblinoids in the mountains, and no human bandits would come that far. They'd starve to death. The road to Aldreth is used about once a month."

Thean laughed. "I never thought that Woodkin would actually protect humans," he grinned. "But it looks like they do. Indirectly, anyway."

"They get something back for it," Tarrin shrugged. "If Aldreth were a dangerous place to live, there wouldn't be anyone living there. It's so far out, the king wouldn't even bother sending men to protect it."

"True, true," he agreed. "It's not a one-sided relationship. The humans get our protection, and in return they trade with us. And I have to admit, they're very fair. I always thought they'd try to gouge us."

"It's against village law," Tarrin told him. "Treat the strangers from the Frontier like they were your neighbors, because they are. Your people get the same prices the villagers get."

"You have some very smart laws there, Tarrin."

"Common sense rules in Aldreth, Thean. That should be all the law people would need."

Thean laughed. "If only the world lived by that law," he said. "Feeling alright?"

"I'm getting a little tired, but I'm alright," he replied. "I'll be fine. I'm just glad to be outside."

"Be that as it may, Triana will skin me if I don't bring you back. She said a short walk, and Triana always says exactly what she means."

"I noticed that too."

"That's a good thing. It'll keep you healthy."

Tarrin laughed. "That common sense thing comes in handy."

The talk with Thean did wonders for Tarrin's mood.

He sat in his room, playing a bit with one of his blankets, thinking about what the older male had to say. Thean proved he was a very wise Were-cat, and he had that calm common sense that reminded him alot of his own father. His conversation had calmed Tarrin down a great deal, mainly because he now had a better idea of what to expect, and what others would expect from him.

Not that it helped him much now. He still felt like an outsider among the Were-cats, and in a way, he guessed that he was. He didn't share their upbringing or their teachings. To him, they were all strange, different, unusual. They didn't incite a fear in him the way strange humans did, but on the other hand, he wasn't about to open his arms and embrace them all as family. He was pretty sure that they felt the same way about him, too. They all treated him a little different, but he wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was turned or if he was hurt that made them do that. Maybe it was because they didn't know him. Thean said that Were-cats were usually solitary, and that fit with their independent natures. Maybe they weren't going to open up to him until they got to know him better. He'd already found ones he liked. He liked Kimmie, but he had the feeling that was because he felt she understood what he went through a bit better than the others. Mainly because she went through it too. He liked Triana, naturally. He found that he liked Mist, in a way other than compassion for her. Her, he could understand, so it let him approach her on even ground. In a way, she was alot like him, so he had a very good idea of how to approach her.

That made him look at the manacles. They were still sitting on the nightstand, laying there waiting for him to pick them up and put them back on. They represented everything that had probably made him the way he was. They were his reminders to never put his trust in humans again, and their weight was always there to keep his attention on them, to remember whey they were there, keep him from falling into that trap. He didn't know if Triana understood why he wore them, but at least she didn't have them thrown out. They were symbols, symbols of what happened when he trusted humans, symbols of what was waiting for him if he dropped his guard. He hated them, but he wouldn't stop wearing them, because enduring their presence was much better than forgetting the lesson that they were there to teach him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he sighed and reached down and picked one of them up. It was heavy, made of steel, and its surface was heavily scarred, nicked, and pitted from all the times he had used the manacles to parry weapons. At least in that sense, they served him in a practical manner. He held it up and stared at it a long moment, then held up his other paw and concentrated enough to make it a human hand. The manacle wouldn't slide on over his paw, but it would go over his human hand. His wrist was alot thicker when his paw was attached to it, and it was to that wrist that the manacle was fitted. The pain of the human hand gnawed at him slightly, but it wasn't there long enough to try to tune it out. He slid the manacle over that hand, over the wrist, and he held it there as his arm and hand reverted to their natural shape. The manacle slid a bit as it found its old place on his wrist, coming to a rest just behind the wrist bones. After twisting it into position, he repeated the procedure with the other arm. Their weight felt unusual after long days without them, but in another way, it felt more natural. He had worn them for so long, they nearly felt like part of his arms. And they wouldn't let him forget.

He would never be a slave again. He would never be held in thrall to another, ever again. He would never place blind trust in someone again. He had trusted Jula, and she had turned on him and locked that collar around his neck. She had paid for her acts, though, so he really had no more malice towards her. She was dead now, long dead, though killing her was never meant to be the punishment. Her punishment was to know how he had felt, to lay there helpless and feel her life draining away, and know that she was powerless to stop it. That was how he had felt when imprisoned within his own body by that damned collar, then when he had went berzerk and killed so many people. How it felt to be completely out of control. That was what he wanted her to feel. He had gotten even with the Keeper as well for her part in all that, in the Tower's part that turned him Were. He knew now that she was just doing what the Godess told her to do, but he still couldn't forgive her for ruining his life. He held her responsible for everything that had happened to him, and no matter how much he knew that that wasn't true, he really didn't care. He had to have someone to look at and blame for what had happened, and the Keeper fit that description nicely. It was irrational, but he didn't care.