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Shadowdale, 1372 DR. 13th day of The Fading.

It had been just over a tenday since Aiden had made his way out of Cormanthor wood after his "hunting accident," as his mother called it. His arm felt completely fine, and had stopped hurting several days ago. When he'd told his father about it the day before, his father looked at Aiden like he was crazy, saying that it was impossible, and telling him to keep wearing the splint until the end of the month. He sighed. It would be a long time until The Fading rolled around into Leaffall. He sighed. At least he wouldn't have to participate in harvest thanks to his broken arm.

Aiden was tired of staying cooped up in the house, hot as it was, and went outside to enjoy the early morning sun. He was sitting outside on the front porch, gently petting Scruff on the back of the head with his good hand, when his bandaged arm began to itch. Scruff looked up at him when he took his hand off the dog's head. He scratched at his arm, but it wouldn't stop itching. Eventually he unwrapped his arm completely to scratch at it. His arm didn't even had a mark on it. Scruff sniffed at it as he began running his fingernails over his arm. Moments later, his mother came outside to sit next to him. She leaned over to look at his arm, then leaned up against the back of the bench without saying anything.

"Do I have to wear this damned thing? My arm hasn't hurt for days now, and it itches like mad." He complained.

"Yes, dear. Don't move it. I'll be back out with a wet cloth so you can clean it a bit, and some fresh bandages." His mother got back up and went into the house, coming back out a minute later.

Leda held the cloth out to him, watching as he went to scrub his arm. She started to tell him to be gentle, but stopped when he lifted his arm up off the splint. She didn't say anything else as he finished wiping down his arm, then set it back on the splint and began refastening the splint. "That spell was really something. Why don't you do that for the other kids around here when they have accidents?"

Leda pursed her lips, remaining silent for several seconds before responding.

"It's not a strong spell. Normally it's just enough to cause wounds to scab over, so that people don't bleed to death. I normally use it in emergencies, when someone is about to die." She shook her head. "It shouldn't have healed your broken arm at all. It takes a great deal more power to heal bones."

He raised an eyebrow at that, looking askance at her. "So...why isn't my arm still broken?"

She didn't reply at first, looking out at the road in front of the house. There wasn't anyone around. People were out in the fields harvesting crops or further down the road in the center of town. Eventually she replied, her voice hushed. "Wrap your arm up. I'm going to go talk to an old friend of mine to see what she knows. I'll be back later."

With that, Leda stood up and brushed her green dress off, and walked toward the main road before heading north, further away from town. Scruff hopped down off the porch and padded along behind her.

It was hours later when she returned, and she went inside to talk to his father. He couldn't hear much other than whispers, followed by his father's loud exclamation. Eventually his father came back outside, and stood in front of the bench, his arms crossed. He stared down at Aiden.

Aiden looked back up at him from where he was laying on the bench. "Yes?"

"Boy, did anyone try to heal you? With a spell?" His father asked, an annoyed expression on his face.

Aiden nodded, wondering why his father hadn't asked him if Leda had tried to heal him. Perhaps his father didn't know she could cast spells. Maybe she didn't want him to know.

As he nodded, his father sighed. "Fine. You can take the splint off. And start packing your stuff. You'll be going over the mountains, and winter travel is hard. The sooner you leave, the better."

"Where am I going?"

"Are you daft, boy? You're going to Cormyr. I told you that a tenday ago."

"Well, yeah, but...How?"

"The North Ride, but headed south over the high mountain pass. This time of year it'll be passable. If you'd waited another month, you'd have to use Tilver's Gap instead. That would be an extra tenday of travel."

Bran waited, expecting a reply, but Aiden just stared up at him. "There's a caravan that came in yesterday, from Voonlar. It's leaving tomorrow morning. You'll go with them."

§

The rest of the day had passed in a blur, mostly getting equipped for travel over the mountains. Aiden now had a brand new leather rucksack, bedroll, cloak, and replacements for everything else he had lost.

Bran had dug out his old chainmail armor, shield, and longsword. The gear had served him well while he was a Blade in the Purple Dragons.

The sword, having hung over the mantle since Aiden was a child, didn't surprise him in the slightest. It was a fine steel longsword with an ornate silver-chased hilt. The pommel was stamped with the national emblem of Cormyr. The purple lacquer had faded a bit with age, turning more blue than purple, but the dragon was still easily recognizable. Aiden had turned down his father's offer of the large steel shield that he'd used, emblazoned as it was with the purple dragon of Cormyr. He felt far more comfortable with his own shortsword in his offhand than a clumsy shield.

The chainmail shirt also didn't fit very well. The arms were far too tight. His father grinned at that, saying "You're lucky you didn't have to fight six other children for food at the table. It's no wonder you're bigger than I am already."

Taking the arms off the chain shirt made it bearable, and he pulled a pair of heavy leather wrist cuffs out of his trunk. Thankfully they were adjustable through small leather straps with buckles, and Aiden had to loosen them quite liberally to get them to fit. The cuffs went from his wrist to nearly his elbow, and had a matching pair of gloves. They'd probably fit his father loosely, but they were quite tight on him.

The skullcap that his father had used also didn't fit him, much to his dismay. A head blow was easy and lethal, and not having a helmet was tantamount to suicide. The local general store was still out of helms of any kind thanks to the bandit attack a month ago.

He spent the rest of his day with his parents, trying to make the best of the time he had with them before leaving.

Dinner was somewhat awkward that evening, and he sat there silently as he ate while his parents talked. He wasn't really paying much attention until his mother, Leda, asked Bran if he would clean up the kitchen while she talked to Aiden. He looked up at that, and saw his father nod, though with a puzzled expression.

As they got up, Leda asked Aiden to come outside the house to walk a bit and talk. Scruff stood up and followed along behind them, nails clicking on the wooden floorboards.

Outside, the air was unusually chill for being late summer. His mother was silent as they walked up the road. She stepped off the road and headed toward the woods near Fox Hill. As they walked, he kept mulling over the question that had been bothering him since earlier that day, when his father had asked if anyone had healed him. After several minutes of walking, the silence grew to be too much for him.

§

"Does dad know you can cast healing spells?"

"No," Leda replied tersely, not breaking her stride.

"Why not?"

"Because then he'd ask where I learned them. I love your father, but he can be somewhat narrow-minded at times. He's very devout and thinks that everyone should worship the Morninglord. I attend the services with him, so he assumes that I do as well."

Aiden was puzzed. He'd always assumed his mother worshipped Lathander, as his father did. "You don't?"

"No, dear. I'm a druid. I worship Silvanus. Your father would certainly disapprove, though perhaps not as strongly as some."

"Oh...What did you want to talk about?"

Leda stopped walking at the edge of the wood and looked into the night sky up at the sliver of moon and sighed. Scruff whined and shoved his nose under her hand. She patted him on the head.

"When you came home after being attacked, I told you not to tell anyone else."

"I haven't told anyone," Aiden replied.

"Good. Remember last year when the local farmers were finding mutilated livestock?"

Aiden remembered that. The entire situation had been very strange. A whole paddock of cattle had been slaughtered in one night, some half eaten, the rest mutilated. A month later, the same thing happened again with a field of sheep. The farmers hired an investigator. Apparently he had discovered who it was, since the killings stopped, but nobody in town wanted to talk about what had happened. Aiden nodded.

"It was one of the dancing girls from Mother Tara's Festhall. Nobody knew it was her until after she was slain. It's possible that you were attacked by the same one that infected her. If so, you might be too."

He stared at his mother like she'd started spouting gibberish. A dancing girl had slaughtered and mutilated dozens of livestock?

"The same what? What are you talking about?"

"You might have been infected with lycanthropy."

Aiden looked at her blankly. "What?"

"It's a disease. It makes people..."

All he heard was disease. The rest of her words words went right over him. Travelers from all over the realms had stopped at the local inn. Sometimes they whispered tales of horrors that had affected other lands...plagues that would cause people to become covered in black blisters or sores that would get worse and worse until the person died, oozing stinking bloody pus from all over their body. Anyone who got near them would be infected as well. Whole towns of people could die within a ten-day.

"I might have a disease? But...I haven't infected you and dad, have I?" he exclaimed.

"Not that I know of, but most people would kill you if they knew you had it, if only to prevent it from spreading. Even your father."

His own father would kill him? He stood there, shocked. Then he realized the rest of what she had said: "It makes people turn into animals during the full moon. Like wolves." That was impossible. People didn't turn into wolves. Then again, people didn't fly through the air, tossing lightning bolts. Except with magic. Perhaps the disease itself was magic. That made sense.

"So you're saying that when I woke up naked in a tree limb, it wasn't because I was going crazy and climbing trees while I slept? I might have turned into an animal?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

Aiden took a deep breath. "Alright," he replied.

Leda reached into a pocket and pulled something out. She held her hand out. On her palm rested an ivory claw that had been threaded onto a leather necklace. "Put this on," she said.

"What's it do?" he asked as he picked it up and put it over his head.

"Supposedly that will prevent you from turning fully into an animal. Hopefully, it will prevent you from behaving like one too."

Scruff snorted.