Grendel Thornpaw's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

The group stopped at the edge of a clearing where the ruins started to show between the trees. Grendel stood behind the others, watching Oswin shift his weight from one foot to the other. The mole-kin had been walking slower since midday, and now he stood apart from Caius and Foxface, one hand pressed against his side. Foxface stepped forward holding a piece of textured paper, her voice cutting through the quiet. "This was in Oswin's pack," she said, turning to face Caius. "An absolution note. He's been planning to die out here and he didn't tell us." Caius's ears flicked forward, his clouded eyes fixed on the sound of her voice. "I didn't know," he said quietly. Foxface turned to Oswin. "Tell them you're safe. Tell them this is nothing." But before Oswin could speak, he doubled over and heaved, his whole body shaking. Red mushrooms bloomed from his leg and side, breaking through fabric and fur. The clearing went silent except for Oswin's ragged breathing. Grendel felt his hand move toward the knife at his belt—the same instinct that had kept him alive on watch for thirty years. But he stopped. He'd spent three years preparing for every curse, cataloging every symptom, and none of it had saved the person who mattered. He'd chosen duty over presence once, and it had left him with nothing but research and guilt. Now Oswin was turning in front of them, and Grendel could walk away, could protect himself and let someone else handle the infected. Or he could stay close enough to see what happened next, to be present for someone who was dying instead of standing at a distant post pretending that was the same as caring. He stepped forward and knelt beside Oswin, close enough to touch. "We're not leaving you," he said, and the words surprised him because they weren't about atonement or duty. They were about choosing the person in front of him over the safety of distance. Oswin looked up, eyes wide with fear and relief, and Grendel stayed exactly where he was.