The sun made its ascent across the treetops, casting a dim golden hue over the skyline and tinting the sky a lighter shade of blue, pinks and yellows dappled across white clouds visible as the fog cleared. At the village’s gate sat Red peering into the forest as still as the moment he’d sat down and yet not a howl could be heard. The forest came alive with birdsong and chittering of animals, leaves rustling with the warm summer breeze that tousled Red’s hair and swept it into his eyes though he made no move to brush it away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes and turned slightly, eyeing the boy who was nodding off while leant against the gate. The club in his hands braced between his feet as his head bobbed up and down in time with his breathing. Red’s gaze dropped to the lantern still burning at the boy’s feet casting a faint yellowish glow at his feet, his shadow disappearing in the coming light.

With a sigh, Red turned to look over his other shoulder at the old man who stared resolutely at the forest’s edge. He held his sword tight in hand with his grip flexing every so often on the hilt. His eyes half-lidded and moving from left to right before he slowly blinked then continued again. The old man’s shoulders hiked and he glanced in Red’s direction, eyebrows furrowing and nose wrinkling with a grimace. Red blinked impassively then turned away, standing up andlifting his head to watch as the sky lightened.

“It’s over,” Red said, turning sharply on his heel and walking towards the opening in the gate.

The old man bristled, rising to his full height and swinging his sword arm, the blade cutting through Red’s path and barring him from taking another step. Red stopped mid-stride but the loud whooshing noise startled the boy who jumped and held his club at the ready, dropping his stance once he saw what was happening. Though he glanced between Red and his grandfather, shuffling slightly from the other side of the old man’s blade.

“What is over?” The old man demanded, boring holes into Red’s eyes with his own.

“Your watch,” Red sighed, shifting from one foot to the other, glancing up at the sky. “The sun has risen and the beast is not here.”

“Good for you,” The old man said, voice pitching although there was very little mirth to be found, “Going to collect your reward then?”

“My job is not finished,” Red quipped sharply, his eyes narrowing and finger pressing against the blade, pushing it aside effortlessly. “Yours is.”

The boy’s breath hitched as his grandfather’s eyes narrowed and before the two could come to blows, he quickly rushed between them, dropping his club in the haste. He threw out his arms and nearly nicked himself on his grandfather’s sword if not for the old man’s timely move to draw it back. Although he was mildly sure that he only pulled it away so that he’d be able to strike Red down with it. His grandfather’s intense gaze shifted from Red’s to the boy who mustered a smile.

“He’s going to need a guide, Papa, and we’re the only ones who’re awake at this time,” the boy said softly, glancing between his grandfather then Red, turning slightly though keeping himself firmly planted between them. “If we let him wander around the village by hisself, wouldn’t that be worse?”

His grandfather breathed in deep through his nose then exhaled out his mouth, meeting Red’s gaze and holding it for what seemed like forever. Then with a flourish of his hand, he began tethering his sword to his hip, leading the way into the village.

“Pick up your weapon, boy, and stick close,” he ordered, pinning Red in place with a glare over his shoulder. “And you don’t make any sudden moves. You hear me?”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and marched forward. Red opened his mouth but a sharp nudge at his side cut him off and he looked down at the young boy who shook his head then hurried motioned for him to follow. Shutting his mouth and clenching his jaw, Red followed after the boy and his grandfather, glancing over his shoulder at the forest’s edge every so often.

Eventually, his gaze wandered to the village itself. Dirt roads, some lined with stones of different shape and sizes, shoddy houses made of wood with thatched roofs and cloth for curtains, the grassy areas surrounding the homes and lining the roads a healthy shade of green with flowers of different colors. Wooden fences separating houses, some rickety and falling apart. Vines winding around them and the openings in between the wooden beams.

The trio started up a small hill and Red slowed his pace, watching as a small coop of chickens leisurely made their way around a feeding pen in an enclosure on the side of a house. On the other side as they wandered up the hill were vegetables gardens and sheds, cows and sheep and pigs sleeping or blearily looking at him as they ate.. Once or twice, Red would slow his pace to look at them for a moment and the boy would turn back then try to gauge the distance between them and his grandfather.

“Hey!” The boy called out, trying to keep his voice low enough that he wouldn’t grab his grandfather’s ire. “Don’t get sidetracked, we have to stick together.”

He jogged back, reaching out to grab Red by his wrist but he snapped his arm away and looked down at him with a piercing gaze. The color seeped away from the boy’s face and he recoiled. Red’s face softening before he motioned for the boy to go on and followed after him.

“Do you not like people touching you or something?” The boy asked, peeking over his shoulder at Red once he got the courage to actually look at him.

Red blinked at the question then shook his head.

“Is that why you didn’t like when my grandpa pointed a sword at you?”

“Anyone would be offended to have a sword pointed at them,” Red said dryly.

The boy chuckled warmly then quieted himself once his grandfather looked over his shoulders. Dropping his head as he walked, he remained silent for a few minutes then looked back at Red with a mischievous smile.

“My name is Alun,” he said, glancing aside to his grandfather then back, slowing his pace so he walked next to Red. “And my grandpa is Alafred.”

Red looked down at Alun and the faintest of smiles formed. He couldn’t be any older than twelve, dark hair braided back and falling to his shoulders, dark brown skin, and wide brown eyes that met Red’s own then traveled over the expanse of his equipment with interest. They struck a stark difference, Red with his own gear and Alun in a khaki tunic, brown trousers and tightly laced muddy brown boots, his club striking against the fencing with a dull thwack as he dragged it across the ground. Alun’s gaze lingered along the edge of Red’s cloak and with a quick downward glance, Red sighed and shifted his arm from beneath it, the gauntlet secured to his wrist and upper forearm shining faintly in the light from the lanterns hanging on the porches they passed.

“Woah,” Alun whispered, careful to keep his voice low as he glanced towards Alafred then back to Red’s gauntlet, reaching out then hesitating before his fingers could touch the metal. “...May I?”

Red offered his wrist to him wordlessly and watched as Alun ran his fingers over the metal and traced the dents and knicks, pressing his hands against it.

“It’s warm,” he muttered, looking up at Red. “Why do you wear these?”

“To deter the faefolk,” Red replied without hesitation and Alun cracked a smile and giggled.

“So, these aren’t to hunt monsters with?”

“It depends on the monster.”

Alun nodded slowly, drawing his hand away and Red dropped his arm. The two walked on in silence taking the winding road through an emptied out street of stalls and larders, a few people milling about as they set to putting out wares in wooden boxes and hanging up curtains along the stalls. One, a stout man with a round belly and a deep bellowing laugh, waved them down as they passed by. Alafred sighed and turned with his arms crossed over his chest while the man rushed into conversation. Alun laughed, nudging Red’s leg.

“That’s Mister Karath, my grandpa says that he’s a fly by night, y’know what that means?”

Red grunted in response, looking over the array of weapons and pieces lined up neatly in Karath’s stall. He circled behind Alun and ignored the boy’s whisper asking him where he was going or the footsteps that followed as they approached the stall’s front. Red crossed his arms and looked pointedly at a steel sword with a bronze hilt and polished pommel, his eyes narrowing as he leant in and lifted up the curtains hanging overhead to allow the sunlight to come through.

"And who might this upstanding gentleman be?”

Looking over his shoulder, the pot-bellied grinning Karath waved to him aside an even more irritated looking Alafred. Red dropped his hand from the curtains and turned away just as Alun jutted a thumb at him with a beaming smile.

"He's a hunter, his name’s—”

Karath gasped and rushed towards Red. "Hunter?! Oh, it's been some time since we got another one of those around here," he squealed and clapped his hands together, seemingly forgetting the conversation he’d had with Alafred or the presence of the man himself and Alun, his eyes trained on Red who shied away from the intense focus and backed himself against the stall. "Come, come. Let me show you what I've got."

Alafred sighed, "Karath! We're a little bu—"

"Not now, not now, Alafred," Karath interrupted, waving his hand then clapping his hands together again. "Now, what did you say you were hunting?"

Red grimaced, "I didn't."

"Ah, right, right,” Karath chuckled, albeit with a twinge of nervousness and forced cheer, wilting beneath Red’s glare. “Secret, yes? We wouldn't want the town folk scaring, would we uhm.."

"I tried to tell you, Mister Karath,” Alun interrupted, waving his hand to grab the merchant’s attention. “He’s—”

Karath sighed and waved his hand, "Quiet child."

"Oi,” Alafred seized Karath by the shoulder of his vest and spun him around, grabbing hold of the front of his tunic as he tugged him close, their noses practically touching. “Don't hush my grandson."

Red laid his hand on Alun’s shoulder and guided him to the side, slipping from behind Karath as he tried to make peace with Alafred, quietly apologizing with his hands raised. Once they were safely on the path between the stalls, Red eased his grip from Alun’s shoulder but ushered the boy behind him, keeping his gaze trained on Karath’s face.

"Peace, Alafred, I'm only doing business," Karath assured for the hundredth time, fixing his shirt once Alafred’s hold loosened then turning on Red with a beaming smile. "Now, Red then. You will definitely be in need of a —"

"We're busy, Karath. You can sell him some of your goods later."

"Alafred, please."

"Let's go."

Alafred snorted harshly and spat in front of the stall, inches from Karath’s feet, making the merchant jump to one side as he strolled past. Alun peeked from behind Red then looking back at his grandfather with a curious tilt of the head. With a sharp poke in his side, he was hurrying after him with Red following closely behind, casting glances over his shoulder as Karath sulkingly went back to preparing his wares.

"Karath will try to sell you the shirt off his back if it'd turn a profit," Alafred grumbled once they were a distance away from the market. “And now that he knows what you are, every merchant in Blackborough will be trying to sell you something.”

Red scowled at the thought and shook his head. “His belongings are shoddy and poorly made,” he said, ignoring the shocked gasp from Alun who quickly covered his mouth to stifle a giggle. “I would be surprised if the swords could cut butter let alone a boar’s hide.”

Alafred huffed, glancing over his shoulder with the faintest of smiles on his lips, “You really don’t mince words, do you?”

Red hiked one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug then looked away to which the old man huffed and turned away.

“I think my grandpa likes you,” Alun whispered, lowering his hand from his mouth.

“Why do you say that?”

Alun smiled, “He doesn’t like most hunters, he doesn’t even talk to them, but he talked to you. That’s a good sign.”

Red grunted and shrugged half-heartedly, “I’ve had colder welcomes.”

“Really? Like what?”

Red was quiet for a moment then tilted his head to one side, “Have you ever been decapitated?”

“Decapitated..?” Alun repeated, squinting at him.

Lifting one hand, Red mimed a slicing motion across his throat then dropped his head dramatically for a moment. His eyes shut, he couldn’t see but once he opened his eyes, Alun’s horrified face and hand grasping his throat was a sight to behold.

“Y-You’re joking, right?”

Red shrugged, walking ahead and leaving Alun gaping at him with his hand grasping his throat.

“Right?!”

“Alun,” Alafred shouted, turning around and waving his fist through the air. “Quit goofing off!”

“Sorry, Papa!” Alun cried, jogging to catch up to them, whispering to himself as he glanced up at Red occasionally.

Red looked down at him then looked away.

At least that would deter a few questions for awhile.