Mind of a Witness

Chapter 5

It was rapidly becoming clear: Aaron and I weren't cut out for this 'adventure' stuff.

This first crossed my mind when our newly formed company met in my room after lunch. I had been the last to arrive, delayed by the requirement to sign my account of events into the official Court record. When asked what our first steps should be, the young guardsman and I agreed that we should wait for the blacksmith's metallurgy report.

Prince Gnarl nodded, then rumbled, "And if that bears no fruit?"

And already, both humans were stumped. Luckily, Tessa and Teddy had far more initiative than we did. They sprawled out on my bed like they owned it, and began brainstorming.

The werewolf female began with her maps. She diagrammed the radius that our assassins could have reasonably travelled on foot, if word of our hunt had been leaked shortly after a decision was made. A smaller circle was drawn, indicating the area that we would surely find a stash of basic supplies like food and water, given the lack of such necessities on the corpses.

Silently, I thanked God that both of the werewolves had a command of the English language. The alternative would be the lupine tongue, which was completely incomprehensible to the human mind. Every once in a while, the Prince would rumble something sounding so alien, it sent shivers up my spine. Aaron paled when he first heard the guttural, oddly lyrical words drifting from our de-facto leader's muzzle. Tessa's reply, written in chalk on her slate, was a jumble of letters with strange arcane symbols attached. I had to gather up all of my courage to even ask what they called this demonic script and the associated verbal abomination.

"French." was his reply.

I shuddered. It was horrific.

The creature regarded my revulsion with curiosity. He noted, "You use many French words in your journal. Fencing terms, particularly."

I fought down the surge of anger in my breast and belly. But my tone was crisp when I asked, "You read my journal?"

"Sure. You were late, and I was bored."

My retort was sharper than intended, "Your Royal Majesty, I'll have you know that those terms are from the 'Hanging Sword Lane Guide on Fencing'. A proper English manual."

My defense of the English language resulted in a bark of laughter from the Prince and a sad shake of the head from his cartographer. Barbarians, the both of them.

After planning out a few potential courses of action, Tessa tapped her Prince's shoulder. She pointed at something that she scribbled on her slate. It caused Teddy to guffaw.

I asked, "What did she say?"

He rumbled, "She said that you two need to start pulling yer own weight. Listen, Andy. I know that you're used to following orders and serving Lynne. But in a group like this, you need to contribute. And the same goes for you, Aaron. When the claws come out, you need to use your intuition. Can't be waiting for orders all the time. Understand?"

Without thinking, and simultaneously, the both of us said, "Yes sir."

The Prince scrubbed at his face tiredly. "And we don't have time for the 'Sir' and 'Your Grace' and 'Witness' stuff either. I never liked that crap anyway."

I asked, "So we should call you Teddy?"

The wolf paused upon hearing that aloud. The somewhat murderous expression on his fuzzy face was probably an indication that I had misinterpreted his intentions.

But the cat was out of the bag, so to speak. Tessa scribbled on her slate and held it up. It read, 'They call you Teddy?!' Her jaw hung open in a silent lupine laugh as her tail thrashed against the bedclothes.