The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

squirrels, the goat, and the nest of mice in the thatch. Only the partially destroyed hut and hints of memories remained.
    Three-quarters of the way around the clearing his boots scuffed against something soft. Underneath a network of debris, he found the soft brown fur of a lop-eared rabbit. He recognized the small scar across the dead buck’s nose. This had been one of Brevelan’s pets. It had been trampled by heavy boots.
    Darville’s anger ran cold through the veins. The creature had probably returned to the clearing seeking shelter from the strangers who invaded this place, only to be caught in the melee.
    Saying a silent farewell, he recovered the rabbit with dead leaves and ferns. At least he could spare Brevelan the knowledge of this one small loss.
    “They’re gone. The area is completely empty,” he informed his companions upon his return. “The thatch is gone, and part of one wall, but the hearth is undamaged.”
    “We’ll stay the night,” Brevelan decided for them. “I’ll gather kindling. You two get to work on a roof of some kind.”
    Darville looked at Jaylor. A spark of animation hit his friend’s eyes.
    “Yes, Mother,” they replied to her stiff back as she marched into her ruined home.
    “Remember to wash when you’re finished,” she called back over her shoulder. “Little boys need to bathe every evening,” she scolded them. A false note tinged her levity.
    “Think she’ll feed us real food if we behave?” Darville thought greedily of a thick haunch of venison. But he doubted he’d be able to eat rabbit again.
    “Depends on how you define real.” Jaylor avoided his eyes.
    Darville felt his old friend’s laughter. “I mean some meat. Roots and gruel can’t fill an empty belly after a day’s hard work.”
    “They will fill you if you let them.” Jaylor finally looked at him.
    This time Darville looked away. His belly felt slack. It protested constantly. He knew Jaylor had felt the same hungers many times in the last two days. Yet he had accepted Brevelan’s meatless diet. “I don’t think I can continue to work hard and walk all day without meat,” he replied sheepishly.
    “I could change you back into a wolf for a few hours, let you hunt.” Jaylor’s face looked bland, except for a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. The same twitch that had been a signal for a new mischief when they were children.
    “Would it be for only a few hours?” Darville was skeptical. He knew his friend’s penchant for practical jokes.
    Once, when Jaylor was thirteen and he fifteen, their gang of wild and restless friends found sport in tormenting a stray dog. Sickened by the cur’s pitiful squeals of pain and confusion, Darville had flung himself into the midst of the cruelty, fists flying. Jaylor wasn’t far behind. When fighting the older and more numerous boys proved futile, Jaylor had used his waning strength to throw a spell. Each of the bullies sprouted a dog’s tail.
    And the tails were tied together with bits of devil’s vine. A particularly thorny, choking, and pernicious weed.
    Confused, the bullies had chased each other in circles, trying to unite their bonds, pricking their fingers, and unable to remove the thorns or the knots.
    The stray dog had bounded free.
    That memory reassured Darville. Jaylor wouldn’t leave him in wolf form for long. And then he wouldn’t have to eat another stew of roots and herbs.
    “It’s a deal. Do you want me to save you some of the kill?”
    Jaylor’s face fell. Darville felt chagrined. He’d used the wrong words.
    Kill.
    Brevelan could never forget that each bite of meat had once been a life.
    “I guess not.” Darville tried to smile. “After we fix the roof, we can take a dip in the pond.”
    “You splash too much,” Jaylor replied, his own sense of humor returning.
    “Only when you dunk me.”
    “Who, me?”
    Darville slapped him roughly on the shoulder. “Of course, you. You’ve been doing it since we were babes in short britches. You never could resist rubbing it in that you were bigger than I.”
    “Younger, too.”
    “Not as smart.”
    “Stronger and more stubborn.”
    “That’s for sure.” They continued to wrestle as they crossed the clearing and began working on the thatch.
     
    “It’s too dangerous,” Brevelan affirmed to Jaylor.
    Jaylor tried to ignore her.
    “I agree.” Darville faced him, hands on hips, shoulders back and chin thrust out. “We haven’t time for you to experiment. Old