The door opened, and Triana stepped in as Tarrin twisted the second manacle into place. She looked at him, then looked at his arms, and then she shook her head sadly. "I was hoping you'd give those up, cub," she said in a gentle tone.

"No," he said quietly. Grimly. "Ask Dolanna what these mean to me, then ask yourself if I should give them up.

"I already know what they mean to you," she told him. "I hoped that your time with us would lessen that in you."

"I am what I am, mother. These," he said, holding them up, "are a part of what I am. If anything, my kin out there make me even more nervous and edgy. They're strangers to me, mother. Almost alien. They make me feel things I don't understand, and their presence makes me do things I don't like. I may not trust humans, but at least I understand them, and I'm used to them."

"Do those make it any better?"

"No, but they keep it from getting any worse," he replied. "As long as I wear them, I won't let myself get caught in that trap again."

"And they'll keep you from overcoming your distrust and making new friends."

"Better a few real friends than fifty false ones," he replied bluntly.

Triana moved slightly, in time for Mist to come around her and look at him. Her eyes softened considerably when she looked at him, as her guard lowered in his presence, and she actually smiled at him. "Tarrin," she said in her strong voice. "Triana told me, told me that I've conceived. We won't have to try again."

"She told me, Mist," he assured her. "Do you feel alright with it?"

"I feel whole, Tarrin," she replied with a warm look. "For the first time in a very long time, I feel whole. And I wanted to thank you again."

"You're leaving?"

She nodded. "I want to be home, home for my baby. I don't want to take any chances."

"You're being paranoid, Mist," Triana snorted.

"I don't care," she snapped in reply. "I'm not doing anything to risk losing the baby. I want to be home before I start filling out."

"What about Kimmie?" Triana asked.

"She's coming with me," she replied. "We had a long talk, Tarrin, like you said we should. She's going to help me until I have the baby." She looked at him and smiled. "If it's a girl, then I'll name it Elke. If it's a boy, I'll name it Eron."

His parents' names. Tarrin was a bit startled at that, that she even knew the names of his parents, but her announcement didn't fail to send a warm feeling through him. "I'd be honored, Mist, and so would my parents."

"The cub is also yours, Tarrin. I'll never forget that."

"It's still not necessary."

"I don't care if it is or not," she said bluntly. "It's what I want."

"Then that's good enough for me," he told her.

She approached him and embraced him warmly, then kissed him. "Thanks for everything you've done for me," she said with a gentle smile. "I can't ever repay you."

"I don't need to be repaid, Mist. Just be happy. That's all I ask."

"I will," she promised. "We have to go now. We have a long way to go. Take care of yourself."

"I'll watch him, Mist," Triana told her with a faint smile.

"You'd better. If you let him get killed, I'll kill you. Be well, Tarrin. I hope we'll see each other again soon."

"Take care of yourself," he replied to her. She only smiled at him, then she turned and left the room.

Mist. If anything good came of anything that had happened to him, then it had to be her. Just knowing that she was going to be alright was enough for him, that she had found a trust and love for Kimmie that both of them had so desperately needed. Mist wouldn't be alone anymore, and that was all he could hope to ask. Being turned Were, all the pain and heartache, it all paled in comparison to what that poor woman had endured for hundreds of years. If his pain brought her peace, then it was a good trade. She was in much more desperate need of peace than he ever was. He didn't love her, but he found that he did care for her, a great deal.

"I hope she'll be alright," he sighed.

"She'll be fine," Triana told him. "It's things like that that give me hope for you, cub," she said gently. "You're feral, but your heart is still deep. You want to help people, even the very people you fear and distrust. Just be very careful with it, my cub. Don't let your conflicting ideals tear at you. Find ways to satisfy both of them."

"I'll try, mother," he promised.

"Now then, since Mist got in her goodbye, it's time to go back to your lessons," she said in a brusque voice. "We're running out of time, and you still have much to learn."

"Yes mother," he said, sitting back down on the bed. "Let's get it overwith."

The days began to flow by for Tarrin, as a regiment of sorts evolved from his daily activities. He would get up, eat breakfast, then learn. Then they had lunch. Triana would let him go out for walks and other light exercise, which he spent most often with Allia, Dar, and Dolanna and Faalken, then he would go back to lessons until supper. The time after supper belonged exclusively to Allia. Then he would go to sleep, get up, and do it all again.

The lessons began to drag on for him. He learned many exotic and seemingly senseless customs of many of his forest cousins, customs that seemed silly. But all it took was one hostile look from his bond-mother, and he was very attentive until his fear of her began to be eroded away by the boring subject matter. He learned the customs of the Faeries, the Pixies, the Brownies, the Gnomes-he'd thought they were all dead-the Centaurs, the Dryads, and a slew of other Woodkin races. He also learned the customs they all used to deal with the Druids, and he received an education on the Fae-da'Kii, the castout races of their magical society. Beings like Vampires, Lamias, and Leucrotta, for example. There were a great many of them, and Triana's teachings only centered on being able to identify them. He also learned some customs of the Goblinoids, but he found that his father's Ranger training, which he passed down to his son, already covered a great majority of that lesson.

Dolanna sat in on his lessons less and less, absorbed in her own lessons with Dar and Faalken. She was teaching them the language of the Sha'Kar, a language that only they could speak, a language that would absolutely ensure the security of any information they had to pass between themselves. Her teaching style was half Sorcery, half more standard teaching. She used Sorcery to implant a basic working knowledge of the language in their minds, then expanded on that with her lessons to reinforce it. Teaching using Sorcery wasn't as effective as learning information the old fashioned way, and that was why she only used it to teach them the basics, then have them learn for themselves the rest of it. That learned knowledge would reinforce the magically granted knowledge, and make them retain it. That was the flaw with magical teaching, that the information faded from the mind over time. Dar was struggling with it, but surprisingly, Faalken turned out to be an apt pupil of the dead language.

The injury in Tarrin's chest faded with each passing day, until the chronic pain was completely gone. It reached the point where it only hurt when he moved the wrong way, and could enjoy a little bit more strenuous activity. When he reached that threshold, Triana allowed him to go out for long walks. She had other Were-cats accompany him, both to continue his instruction and allow him to get a feel for his own kind. He got to know Rahnee, Singer, and Shirazi a little better, and became good friends with Thean. Laren, on the other hand, didn't get anywhere near him. Tarrin didn't like Laren at all, and Triana kept the two of them seprarated. Laren was a delicate little wisp of a Were-cat, nearly too weak to protect himself, and that weakness aggravated Tarrin to no end. Tarrin could thrash him easily, even with his injury, and his past insults and slights, and the horrible disrespect he showed to his mother, burned at him every time he saw the little fluff's face.