Tomas woke up to disappointment; his skin was still white. He was a lanky young man, but as he examined himself in the washbasin by his sleeping palette, it wasn’t to see if he had gotten any larger, it was for any speck of color. His sandy hair and green eyes stood out, but that wasn’t what he was looking for either. He was in his 19th year, when some power should have manifested, yet nothing. The telltale glyphs of a Marked still hadn’t appeared on his body. All Tomas ever dreamed of was being a Marked. He was raised on legends of Marked like Goliath Stoneheart or the Angel Raelia, tales his mother told of tattooed skin that could turn away arrows, a woman gracefully flying on spectral wings. They were tales of people who did good. He wanted that. He yearned for the freedom that a Mark could grant. The power. Maybe if he had that power, he could change things, things like what happened to his mother. With a Mark, he could get away from his lonely fortress. Baron Laoros wouldn’t let one of his workers leave to join the army, but would he dare intercede if the person were Marked? With visions of grandeur in his head, he put on the tattered clothing he called a uniform and started towards the stables. It was his job to groom the horses and on days the Baron decided to go on a hunt, be their caretaker.

  On his way to the stables, Tomas walked by his fellow townsfolk. As he passed, he watched them doing their mundane tasks. A woman sat on a step, washing clothes in a basin at her feet. She waved to Tomas, and he waved back, like he did every day. Our days are so uniform. Would it be so bad to have something change for once? Tomas thought. He was so wrapped up in his own head that he nearly toppled over a kitchen girl who crossed his path.

  “Oh, Molly! I’m sorry,” Tomas said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mister Tomas,” Molly replied. “I was looking for you. The kitchen ladies want you.”

  “Oh, then I’ll head right over,” Tomas said with a chuckle.

  He knew he should have little time before they would consider him late. Thankfully, the only person in town to have one of those new clock contraptions was the Baron, so no one would know. The little girl scampered away back to the kitchens, and so Tomas followed behind at a relaxed pace.

  Tomas walked into the kitchens and grabbed an apple as he went, which was met with mock protest from the staff.

  “Hey now Tom, don’t be doin’ that,” a kindly woman said.

  The kitchen staff were the only ones who called him Tom. It had been his mom’s preferred name for him, and the staff picked it up while she worked with them. “Oh, am I in trouble then?” Tomas asked.

  “Aw Tom, only if that’s all you take. You need to eat more, ya know,” one woman replied.

  “He does. He’s thin as a bone he is,” another woman agreed.

  Tomas laughed along and said he was fine, just needed a second apple maybe. He managed to leave with only a few hugs from the aproned old women. Finally, he made it to the stables, but there was a commotion as he entered.

  “Damn you, Tomas! Did’ya sleep in again?” A stocky boy exclaimed. “You better ‘ury up and get tackle on the Baron’s horse already! ‘e’ll have our heads if he has to wait any longer. Like losing your head will make a difference since there’s obviously nothin innit.”

  “Ben, you’re one to talk. The only head you use is the one in your pants.”

  “Now that ain’t true, it does its best work when I don’t got pants on at all,” Ben said with a laugh.

  “You are terrible.”

  “What kept ya so long?”

  “I stopped by the kitchen. Oh, here, I got you this.” Tomas brandished his two apples. He tossed one to Ben and began eating the other.

  “Don’t think this makes up for being late. You better get your skinny ass workin’, I ain’t particularly wantin’ to get whooped today.”

  He pulled on his gloves and got to work. Tomas didn’t mind being a stable hand. He had always liked horses—they were smart animals—and he got along with them well enough. The only hiccup was that the horses liked to nibble at his hair. As he approached, Smoke, the Baron’s horse, did just that, and stuck his muzzle toward Tomas’s head. He swatted at Smoke who pranced backward let out a playful whiney in response. Tomas couldn’t help but smile at Smoke’s antics. With how close the boy and the horse had bonded over the years, Smoke might as well have been Tomas’s. The horse stopped trying to eat at Tomas’ hair and nudged his arm with his nose. The horse snorted, eyeing the half-eaten apple in Tomas’ hand. “Okay, fine, you can have the rest.” He fed the apple to Smoke, which seemed to satisfy the horse enough that Tomas could brush his hair and get him situated.

  Just as they were finishing up the morning chores, Baron Laoros arrived. Even though it had been years since what happened, Tomas could still feel the heat rising to his face when he saw the man. He was fat—fatter than someone living in a poor fort on the edge of civilization should be. Though he was rotund, he carried his body with the same air as an ox. He leaned on a bejeweled dueling cane, the ruby matching his red uniform that stretched tight across his stomach. His was the uniform of the government. Soldiers wore black, officers in the army wore purple, governing officials like the Baron wore red, and the Lord Prelate was the one and only man to wear white. Tomas, as a stable boy, wasn’t allowed a uniform; he was lucky to be allotted what few pieces of clothing he had.

  “You, Boy. Prepare the horses. And a mule too, I have supplies to be carried,” warbled Baron Laoros. He waved his hand, and two servants brought bags of supplies for the hunt. Among the bags was enough food to last days, a lush tent with a set of sleeping clothes for the Baron, and another jeweled cane. This was all for a trip that would be back before nightfall. Suspiciously, one thing not among the supplies was a bow, something of utmost importance for hunting. Why is the Baron going on a hunt without hunting equipment?

  Tomas’ thoughts were interrupted as the Baron commanded the hunt to begin. He took the rope connected to the mule’s harness and took his place at the back of the group. Ben was beside him, tending to the Baron’s hunting dogs. Once everyone was ready, they set out into the wilderness. With how close they were to the Weald, the trees stretched far into the sky, and flowers the size of children bloomed. It was dangerous to hunt this close to the border. The Weald didn’t have an official border, of course, as it wasn’t a nation, but once someone crossed a certain line, they didn’t return. It was a land of strange magics, creature and plant both were tinged by it. Tomas shivered. Delaria, damn it, I hate this place. The Baron liked to hunt the monsters that strayed from the safety of their forest boughs, though, no matter how creepy the place was.

  He watched as landmarks passed the party by again and again until they were deeper in the Weald than Tomas had ever been. Trees towered over them, and mosquitoes the size of a child’s fist flew around their heads. Tomas felt the rope in his hand grow slick with sweat. Something was wrong; they had gone too deep. The Baron came to a stop beside a rock outcropping, a cave of some sort. Inside were many dark furry shapes; it was hard to tell if it was the shadow or black fur that covered them.

  “Horse Boy, come collect one of these specimens.”

  Tomas inched forward, afraid of what might be in the den. He picked up one of the furry shapes, only to find it was a puppy. It seemed to be maybe a month old, and reminded Tomas of when the Baron’s whelp had puppies a few months before, but there was something more wild about it. He imagined this must be similar to what a coyote cub would look like. It had a black coat with grey accents on the snout, underside, and paws. The dog’s tail trailed behind it, and though it lazily wagged, it reminded him of the big tomcat they kept in the stables to chase mice. As the tail wagged back and forth, he noticed a thorny shape protruding from the fur at the end, which looked almost like a thick claw barely peeking through.

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  “That there is called a scourgehound. It’s also worth your life a hundred times over. You’re good with animals, I presume, working in the stable. It shall be your responsibility to keep it alive. Because if this deal ends due to your incompetence, so will your life. Your fat friend, too.”

  Tomas looked down with horror at the pup. His life, and the life of his friend, lay in the well-being of a dog.

  And just like that, they began the journey home. The whole way was spent with Tomas holding the scourgehound to his chest, wincing at every bump, worried he would drop or jostle the poor animal and hurt it. In return, the pup looked up at him with dark, intelligent eyes and seemed content to ride in his arms. The dog’s fur kept making him itch, and it got in the most incomprehensible places. Half of the trip was spent trying to get hair out of his gloves before resigning to just dealing with the itchy hands. It felt almost like the hair was getting under his skin with how bad the itch was.

  The Baron and his entourage arrived home to bowing and scraping, while the rest of the party had to unpack. Tomas and Ben made their way to the stables, getting Smoke and the others ready to rest. Then it was just Tomas, Ben, and the new arrival. The scourgehound. The two stared at it, knowing that their lives relied on keeping this puppy safe. Ben finally broke the silence.

  “I guess we should give her a name if we’re supposed to be takin’ care of her.”

  “Like what?” Tomas asked.

  “I dunno, how about Roan?”

  “Why Roan?”

  “My Ma had a dog named Roan when she was a girl, back when she was in the city and could afford to have one. Besides, do you ‘ave a better idea?”

  Tomas conceded, it wasn’t a bad name. It would matter after a few days anyway. All he wanted to do right now was sleep, so finding the perfect name for a dog was not a priority. He took Roan in his arms and went home. He sat Roan down when he got inside, and he watched as the dog excitedly ran around to explore the small space, little claws scratching against the wood floor. Tomas walked over to his small table and cabinet and found a piece of salted meat, which he tossed down to Roan. He slumped down into his chair, dozing as she attacked the food.

  Tomas woke up the next morning, groaning as he realized he had fallen asleep in his chair. As he stood, he heard a startled yelp. Roan had been sleeping curled up in the chair and was woken up by Tomas. Tomas smiled, watching Roan stretch and then jump down from the chair to tackle his ankles. That brightened his day some, but he couldn’t let himself get too attached, he was just keeping her for the Baron.

  Tomas heard a knock at the door. Who would come to my house, of all places? The person outside knocked again. Tomas opened the door to see a keep guard.

  “Baron Laoros commands you attend him on his walk. Follow me, and bring the dog,” the guard said.

  The guard stood, waiting, as Tomas scrambled to meet the Baron’s request. He scooped up Roan and, at the last second, grabbed his knife. It was worn dull from use in the stables, but he figured it couldn’t hurt as he slid it into his boot.

  The guard led boy and pup towards the gate, and then past it. Standing just outside was the Baron’s procession. He saw Ben standing near the only person on horseback, the Baron. There were also a few guards, but their group was a slim one. Tomas felt uneasy as he realized they were going to the Weald again. The feeling grew as they crept closer, until at last they reached the edge of the wood. There, they found a clearing, with a ravine cutting across the far end like a scar. Tomas craned his neck, trying to peer past the jagged rocks lining the edge, but he was too far out.

  Standing in that clearing were people Tomas had never seen before. Men and women clad in scarred leather and armed to the teeth were waiting for them. Five weapons for every man there, hand crossbows, knives, axes, swords, anything and everything to cause harm. Tomas nervously rubbed his hands together, but the Baron must have expected them, because he smiled as he saw them. Roan had a very different reaction; the dog growled as they got close. One man at the head of the group in the clearing, and also the only man in metal armor, smiled back at the Baron and approached. The Baron dismounted his horse with some difficulty in order to talk to the man. The two leaned in close, looking like they were negotiating something. It was the same look men had when haggling over cattle. That man in armor must be their leader. But who are they? Tomas looked more closely at the assembled men and women. They aren’t wearing black uniforms, so they can’t be military, and the armor and weaponry are shabby, so they’re not mercenaries… Tomas’ head spun until finally the pieces clicked into place. Bandits.

  What was the Baron doing talking with bandits? The Baron is evil; it would shock me if there wasn’t some corruption after what happened to Mom, but- Just then, Tomas’s thoughts were interrupted as the Baron yelled at someone. Tomas felt bad for whoever was the target until he realized the Baron was calling for him.

  “Horse Boy, get over here! Bring the Scourgehound pup with you.”

  Tomas panicked a bit. Roan was getting restless in his arms, which didn’t benefit the situation. He swallowed and stepped up to the two men. The Baron attempted to snatch Roan out of his hands, but the dog wasn’t having any of it. She bit the Baron’s hand, which made the Baron drop him and let out a curse.

  “A strong spirit in that one, yes, I think we’ll accept your offer if the others are like her.”

  Tomas hadn’t been able to hear the bandit leader speak from further away, but now that made sense. The bandit’s voice came out low and sinister. There was a quiet intention that sat behind those words, a dangerous one. His voice had the same qualities as a dagger in the back.

  The Baron, nursing his hand, perked up at the man’s words. “Do you have the money with you?”

  “We do,” the bandit said, waving for a few men to bring a box over. He took it and turned to the Baron to show off its contents. The Baron looked in the box, and an enormous grin spread across his face. Tomas stepped close enough to see, and he was shocked by what was inside. The box held a pile of pale golden coins. But they weren’t gold, no, in fact, they were worth far more than gold. They were made of Amidyn. Besides it being the highest denomination of Tyrie currency, Amidyn could be used to make magic items.

  “Now, where are the hounds?” Dagger’s voice made Tomas shiver. It also managed to distract the Baron from looking at his new prize.

  “They’re located uh, this way,” The Baron said, losing his courtly accent for the first time in Tomas’ memory. Dagger waved forward his men with the cart, and as it passed, Tomas saw it wasn’t just a cart but a cage. The Baron remounted his horse, but did not lead the way; his guard captain led the way. Tomas stepped to follow but was met by an icy look from the bandits. He froze in place, realizing he wasn’t the only one staying back. Only the Baron’s entourage entered with him, along with Dagger and the cart. There was tension between the two groups left in the clearing. The bandits fingered their sheathed weapons, and the remaining guardsmen did the same. Not to be outdone, one guard drew his sword. There was silence as he sat down on a large stone and started to oil his weapon. There was an audible sigh as the cloth came out, and the tension lessened, if barely.

  After what felt like an eternity, the men from the Weald returned. Tomas could hear whimpers as the cage rolled past. He could sense Roan getting distressed in his arms. One fact stood in his mind like a wall; there was no getting past it. This is wrong. He could feel it in his bones. Deep in his chest, he felt the horror of his sibling being chained and… They’re just dogs, why do I feel so close to them? There was a tugging in his soul, something he didn’t understand. He felt a burning underneath his gloves, it felt like thousands of ants crawling and biting and-

  Then Tomas noticed the screaming. He had been so distracted by his weird feelings that he didn’t see the battle start. To his right, he saw Dagger ram his sword through the Baron’s chest, knocking him from his horse. Dagger’s sword followed the Baron down, and he was forced to draw a knife to fend off the guard who jumped him. All around, bandits and keep-folk clashed. Tomas backed toward the ravine, hoping he had gone unnoticed, until a bandit with scarlet red flame patterns on his throat started toward Tomas. No, there couldn’t be a marked bandit, could there? Marked are heroes, they- Roan bit his arm, shocking Tomas back into reality. The bandit opened his mouth, and the tattoo across his neck started to glow. Roan jumped from his arms, and Tomas lunged to his right, just in time. A bout of flame leapt from the man’s mouth, singeing Tomas’ shirt but missing any real harm. He pulled himself up only to have to throw himself to the ground again as he heard a twang to his left. An arrow passed a breath away from his nose, it arched past where he lay on the ground, and made its home in Ben’s chest.

  “NO! BEN!” Tomas shouted.

  He tried to pick himself up off the ground, he tried to get to Ben, but the bandit was already on top of him. Instead of getting up, he kicked as hard as he could toward the man with both legs. The blow landed with more force than Tomas realized he possessed. There was a sickening crunch as the man’s leg bent the wrong direction, and then Tomas felt open air behind him. He had pushed himself over the ravine.

  He tumbled backwards over himself again and again. He tried to grab on to something, anything to stop himself. After flailing for a couple of precious seconds, Tomas managed to grasp a root sticking out of the ground, but it tore off in his hand. He saw a glimpse of one of the bandits looking over the edge before he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. His last thoughts were of Ben before the world went dark.