The rain had come. It was that time of the season when farmers across the Nine Kingdoms reaped in abundance.
But not in Thornveil—a borderland at the edge of Vareth, where the rains meant something else entirely: perfect weather for robbing travelers crossing from Kaldur into the nearby towns.
Yashin sat outside the tavern, his back pressed to the wooden wall, a half-empty bottle in hand. The bartender had thrown him out for unpaid debts two moons ago—but not before he'd managed to slip a bottle into his cloak.
Rain blurred the borderlands into gray. He had no interest in work, life, or the world beyond his drink. He was sober just enough to notice the distant shouting—faint through the curtain of rain and market noise.
"Stop that beast!"
"You'll pay for this!"
Yashin squinted through the downpour. Four men—one bearded, swinging a sickle, the others gripping sticks—charged down the muddy street.
Through the rain, a blur of brown fur barreled toward him, paws slapping puddles into the air. Tomatoes and turnips clung to its matted fur, and a lettuce leaf sat atop its head like a crown.
"Damn bear," Yashin muttered, taking a lazy sip as he rose and stepped down from the tavern's door step into the mud.
Yeuk skidded to a halt in front of the tavern, chest heaving, mud streaking his fur. He ducked behind Yashin, pressing close to his leg. A low growl rumbled through the bear's chest—a sound Yashin felt through his boots.
The mob followed, slipping and shouting. A man stumbled in the mud. A woman yanked at her cart's chain. A boy waved a fork like a weapon. They were a desperate crowd, eager to kill the troublesome bear.
"Oi!" the bearded man shouted, pointing his sickle. "That's your beast, innit? He raided half the market!"
Yashin glanced down at Yeuk. The bear looked up at him, ears flat, almost remorseful.
"What did I say about pilfering vegetables?" Yashin muttered.
Yeuk huffed.
"We do not steal!" The bear looked at him in confusion. Then he sighed, shaking his head, rain plastering his long dark hair to his face. "But if you're going to do it anyway, at least steal like a civilized person will you? Bloody hell, Yeuk."
"One, two... five, nine, twelve..." Yashin taking his ground as he counted the men approaching
The bearded man stepped forward, his knife glinting in the gray light. "Six gold coins, mate. Pay up, or we gut him and feed our families!"
Yashin blinked slowly. No coins. Not one. Soaked coat, empty pockets, stiff knees.
"Six gold?" He raised an eyebrow. "For vegetables? Did he eat your bloody house too?"
The man's face darkened. "Six gold, or the bear dies."
"I've got nothing," Yashin said, almost amused. He took another sip from his bottle.
"Then we take it out of his hide," another man snarled, gripping his stick tighter.
The mob began to encircle them, closing in slowly through the mud and rain.
Yashin set his bottle down carefully beside him. "So you'd gut him where I stand?"
His voice had changed—lower, sharper. The kind of voice that made smart men reconsider.
Yeuk huffed, ears twitching, tail swishing. He was big—but not yet full-grown—barely reaching Yashin's waist. Still, his claws gleamed as he shifted his weight.
"Anyone touches him," Yashin said quietly, scanning the faces around him, "and you're a walking carcass."
"Don't think we're afraid of some drunk and his—" one man began.
Yeuk's growl cut him off mid-sentence, deeper this time, vibrating through the air.
Another man lunged forward with his knife raised.
Yashin shifted aside lazily, still seated. The man stumbled past him into the mud. Yeuk reared up on his hind legs, claws flashing. The attacker screamed as three red lines tore across his arm. He collapsed, clutching the wound.
A second man swung his knife at Yashin. This time Yashin moved. His sword was out before the blade could fall—a sharp crack of steel meeting steel sent the sickle spinning into the dark sky.
The mob surged forward all at once, shouting, desperate—
Then a voice cut through the rain like steel.
"Yashin of Dravikin!"
The shouting faltered. Even Yeuk looked up.
A woman stepped from the curtain of rain. Her cloak was crimson and heavy, her hair plastered to her face. Her eyes swept over Yashin, then the bear, sharp and assessing. She moved with the careful grace of someone who'd lived through too many battles.
Yashin raised an eyebrow. "You've got a death wish, or just terrible timing?"
"I'm looking for you," she said, her voice steady despite the storm. "You are Yashin, aren't you?"
He didn't answer. Just watched her.
"I have work," she added. "And coin."
The villagers perked up at the glint of a coin pouch in her hand.
"Eight gold!" shouted the man clutching his shredded arm.
"Aye, eight!" the bearded one added. "And we'll forget your dumb bear eats better than we do!"
Yashin smirked. "Six—or he eats you next."
The woman didn't hesitate. She tossed six coins into the mud. The villagers scrambled for them, snatching them up before scattering into the rain.
Yashin glanced down at Yeuk. "Six pieces of gold. What in all hells did you eat, you fat chump?"
Yeuk huffed indignantly.
"I wonder what trouble you'll stir up when you're bigger." Yashin shook his head and turned to the woman. "All right. What's the work?"
She exhaled, relief flooding her face. "Thank you, sir... for accepting to help me."
"Accepting?" Yashin snorted. He picked up his bottle and took another sip. "Technically, I didn't. I just heard my name, saw a stunning woman throw money at a mob I was about to beat anyway." He spat into the mud. "Six gold coins. Damn it."
He stretched, his joints cracking.
"Please," she said softly. Her voice trembled now. "Children. Twins. They've gone missing. I need to find them."
Her eyes flicked to the bottle in his hand, lingering there for a moment.
Yashin's smirk faded. "Children, huh? Why not hire a tracker? Cheaper. Quieter."
"They were taken two towns from here—toward the capital..."
"Geldor?"
"Yes." She swallowed hard. "Their mother was burned by the Church. A witch, they said. I escaped with the children—but I lost them on the road." Tears cut through the grime on her face, mixing with the rain.
Yashin went still. Something twisted in his chest. A memory—screams, fire, loss—flickered behind his eyes and died just as quickly.
He stared at her for a long moment.
"You should've said that first," he muttered. "I might've charged double."
"That was all the gold I had," she whispered. "Please."
He sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. "Fine. But I go first. You follow in a day, or stay behind. The roads are worse than they look, and I don't need dead weight slowing me down."
"I'm coming with you," she said firmly.
He glanced at her—really looked at her this time. There was steel in her eyes beneath the desperation.
"What's your name?"
"Celine."
Yashin nodded slowly, then looked down at Yeuk. The bear sniffed the air, ears pricked forward, a low rumble in his throat—ready, loyal, and dangerous.
"All right then, Celine," Yashin said. "Do you have anything of theirs? Something they touched?"
She reached into her cloak and pulled out a small wooden bow, worn smooth from use. "The boy's."
"Good. Let's see what Yeuk thinks."
Yashin crouched in the mud beside the bear. He held out the bow. Yeuk pressed his wet nose to it, sniffing deeply, then grunted. He began pacing in a tight circle, nose low to the ground.
"They were here," Yashin murmured, watching the bear work. "But we'll have to move fast if we're going to catch up."
"Can't we find a horse?" Celine asked, glancing at the empty street.
Yashin stood and brushed mud from his knee. "Unless you've got more of those coins you said you don't have, we walk."
She groaned but nodded.
Yeuk stopped pacing and looked up at Yashin expectantly.
"One day," Yashin said, glancing at the bear, "you'll be big enough for two people to ride."
Yeuk's ears straightened. He huffed and turned away.
Yashin laughed. "Sorry—for one person to ride."
Celine cracked a grin despite herself.
They started down the muddy street, their boots squelching with every step. Behind them, the tavern's laughter and the market's chaos faded into the drumming rain. The air smelled of wet earth and ash from distant pyres.
The borderlands were alive—with hunger, danger, and secrets waiting to be unearthed.
Yashin adjusted his hood, rain streaming from its edge. "Well, Yeuk... let's get to work."
The bear huffed. That was answer enough.
Somewhere beyond the hills, thunder rolled—low and heavy. But it wasn't thunder. Not entirely.
The hunt had begun.