*Old Rebel's POV*
As the evening sky turned a deep shade of twilight, the rebels at our camp began gravitating towards the central fire pit, a natural gathering spot that brought us all together after a day's hard work. I, Francis, had been with the group long enough to know everyone by name, and it felt good to see familiar faces unwind and smile. Well... I was here since the rebels took their first steps, and when this smaller camp was made and wolves were picked to go here from the main outpost, I was one of these wolves.
The fire crackled vigorously, sending a cascade of sparks into the cooling air, painting a picture of warmth against the encroaching night. It was more than just a physical warmth; it was the warmth of companionship in our shared struggle.
Pulling out my well-worn guitar, I strummed a few chords, drawing the attention of my fellow rebels.
"Alright, folks, let's lighten the mood a bit!" I called out, my rough, old voice echoing slightly in the open space. The first song was a lively tune, a favourite around the camp for its upbeat rhythm and the way it seemed to lift spirits.
Around the fire, people began to settle in, some tapping their feet, others joining in with improvised percussion. Tom brought his tambourine, adding a jingly beat that complemented the guitar perfectly. As the first song picked up, I encouraged everyone,
"Sing along if you know this one!" Soon, voices melded together, a sound of unity and joy under the stars.
"(...)
Got a long line of rebels in the family treeThe ones who weren't afraid to make history
If a rebel's what it takes, a rebel's what I'll be'Cause the one I follow was a rebel like meRebel, rebelA rebel like meRebel, rebelA rebel like me
Who takes His own cross up a hill?Who loves a sinner nobody else will?
(...)"
After the song, cheers and clapping filled the air. The shared music seemed to weave us closer together, a tapestry of individuals united by melody and night.
"Give us another, Fran!" Alice called out, her face lit by the flickering firelight, a broad smile spreading across her features.
I nodded, launching into a slower, more soulful ballad. This time the group joined in quicker, their voices harmonizing beautifully, filling the night with music that spoke of longing and hope.
"(...)
Oh Grace, just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love, I place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye
Now as the dawn is breaking, my heart is breaking too
On this May morn, as I walk out, my thoughts will be of you
And I'll write some words upon the wall so everyone will know
I love so much that all I could see his blood upon the Rose.
(...)"
It was these moments that reminded us why we fought— not just for survival, but for these snippets of joy and togetherness where we were all the same, with no walls between us, no aristocrats vs peasants or lycans vs other shifters.
Between songs, the atmosphere buzzed with laughter and chatter. Tales of the day's mishaps and achievements were shared with hearty laughter and good-natured ribbing. James recounted a humorous misfire during practice that had everyone roaring with laughter.
As the night deepened, the circle of rebels grew. Jax and Kara came over with bottles of homemade brew and leftover stew from dinner.
"There's always enough to go around," Jax declared, placing the food and drink in the middle of our circle, an open invitation that was quickly accepted by all.
I started another song, this one a well-known ballad of a dragon. The group sang along, their voices strong and united, echoing through the trees. It wasn't just about the music or the fire; it was about the community we had built, the family we had become through shared struggles.
The knights rode wearily
One rider spoke of Emalyn
His wife she was soon to be
No one did spy the Dragon fly
The dragon slayed, but one it saved
The knight who spoke of love
The dragon snarled through plumes of smoke
"You'll die this hour unless you give unto to me
A gift to save your soul
Or I shall end you now."
On his knees the Knight did plea
And offered up his bride
"My dearest Emalyn."
As I strummed the final chords of the ballad, the fire's warmth against the cool night air felt like a gentle embrace. As the song ended, the laughter and conversations resumed, no one ready for the night to end just yet. The fire continued to crackle, a central beacon in our little world. I spotted Evar approaching the circle, a rare smile on his face.
"Room for one more?" he asked, and the group welcomed him with open arms, ready for the next song or story to lift our spirits even higher.
*Evar's POV*
As I approached the lively circle of rebels, the crackle of the fire and the chorus of laughter and song washed over me like a warm wave. I hadn't planned on joining in tonight—I usually kept to the fringes, the lone wolf that I was, or at least, pretended to be. But tonight, something about the camaraderie pulled at the strings of my heart, urging me to step into the light.
"You feel lonely when Nemesia no kis..." Ragnar started but I silenced him annoyed that he had to remind me.
"Room for one more?" I called out as I neared the group, my voice carrying a lightness I hadn't felt in a while.
"Heck, there's always room for the legendary lone wolf!" Francis shouted back, his guitar pausing momentarily as the group erupted in welcoming cheers. The nickname was one of many I'd acquired over the years, a nod to the tales I'd spun about my wilderness adventures—some true, others... well, enhanced for entertainment.
I settled down on a log near the fire, the warmth greeting me like an old friend. Kara handed me a mug of something strong and homemade, the smell alone enough to assure me of its potency.
"This'll put hairs on your chest, more than you've already got," she joked, nudging me with her elbow.
Laughing, I took a cautious sip, the liquid burning all the way down and igniting a warmth in my belly.
"That's mighty fine, thank you, Kara," I said, my voice a little huskier from the brew.
Francis strummed a few chords, then winked at me.
"Got any new tales from the wilds, Evar? The last one about the three-legged bear had us all on edge!"
The group leaned in, a mixture of scepticism and delight in their eyes. They loved my stories, the wilder, the better. I cleared my throat, a grin spreading across my face.
"Well, since you're all so enthralled by my encounters, let me tell you about the time I outsmarted a pack of ghost wolves under the northern lights."
Some yielps were heard and even some "I knew the ghosts were real" got out from one of the rebels.
As I launched into the tale, embellishing the details just enough to make them gasp and chuckle, I felt better than during any of the recent days. The story was far-fetched, a blend of truth and myth, but it didn't matter. It was the sharing that counted, the connection that the story wove between us.
Every so often, I'd catch someone's eye—Kara's twinkling with mirth, Jenna's sceptical but amused with Orion next to her, looking as if he believed my every word, and Jax just shaking his head in mock disbelief. It was these moments, I realized, that I had been missing during my years of solitude. Although I knew I'd give it all away if Nemesia ever wanted to walk away from here. If I were to be with her, I could leave such life, without hard feelings.
As the laughter died down and applause followed my ridiculous yet somehow believable conclusion, someone else picked up the narrative thread, launching into their own exaggerated tale. The night grew deeper, the fire's glow casting dancing shadows around us, but the warmth within the circle remained constant.
It was then that Nemesia arrived, hesitating just at the edge of the light. I saw her there, her posture guarded yet curious, clearly torn between her instinct to remain detached and the pull of the laughter and stories.
"Come on, Nem, join us!" I called out, waving her over. "We're just exchanging tall tales—surely you've got one or two from the royal courts?"
There was a pause, a moment where I thought she might turn back, but then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, she stepped into the circle. The group made room, welcoming her with gentle nods and smiles, perhaps understanding more than they let on about her need for distance.
As she settled down beside me, I handed her a mug, our fingers brushing briefly and that lovely blush on her cheeks appeared. Gods how enchanting she was...
"No tall tales required, just good company," I whispered, giving her an encouraging smile.
She took the mug, her fingers tight around it, and though she didn't speak, her presence spoke volumes. Tonight, she was one of us, even if just for a while. And as the stories continued, with laughter pealing into the night, I felt something shift—a barrier breaking, ever so slightly, under the weight of shared stories and the simple, profound warmth of the fire.