Spindle knocks on Tag’s door only a second before his head pops through. He’s wearing a baseball cap with the university’s husky mascot pulled low over his eyes, and the plainest coat in his repertoire. He’s also fidgeting more than normal, his fingers tugging at his black wool sleeves.
“Um. Y-you ready?” he asks with a swallow. “I’m sort of just gonna follow you if that’s okay.”
His master stands after completing one of his mysterious rituals. “You seem…subdued. I’d have thought you’d be excited at the prospect of finding more werewolves.”
“N-not exactly?” Spindle scratches at a patch on his cheek that’s starting to show the first fluffy strands of facial hair. “Um. It’s sort of like your mom just had another kid, b-but the kid’s really angry and could probably kick your butt, but the really scary thing is that you don’t know what they’re going to be like. Um. What if they’re jerks? What if they’re r-really helpless, and you screw up when you try to protect them? I d-don’t even know if there are any out there yet. You’re not nervous at all?”
Tag grabs one of his verboten protein shakes and downs it. “I suppose there’s always a degree of danger, but that is why I want you along. If we do find one of yours, don’t you think it would be best to have you there to talk them through it?”
“N-no, um.” Spindle’s jaw flexes as he searches for the right words. “I’m not scared of getting hurt. You’re, um, w-way capable of handling a werewolf. P-pretty sure you could take on a whole pack if you had to. Um. I mean, I’m scared of what will happen after. I’ve never had to teach one of the People before.”
“It is said that in order to become a master at anything, one must first become a teacher to others. I’ve found this to be true.” He pats the little werewolf on the shoulder. “Though I admit, I’ve been blessed with an excellent Padawan.”
Spindle lets out a noise like a chicken being strangled, like his emotions hit a traffic jam in his throat. “M-Mister Tag, um.”
He starts helplessly shaking, barreling toward a full-on werewolf meltdown.
Tag immediately frowns. He tries for comforting. “Spindle, is there something more going on that you want to tell me about?”
Spindle throws his head into Tag’s chest as the geysers behind his eyes and nose erupt. “I H-HAVEN’T EVEN MADE MY LIGHTSABER YET!”
Tag looks both shocked and completely confused. “What?”
“Y-you need to make a lightsaber to become a Jedi Knight,” Spindle explains through the gushing fountains in his face. “Um. I haven’t. I c-can’t take on a Padawan!”
“Spindle, I was just making a light reference. You don’t need to be a master at everything to start teaching.”
“Knights aren’t even Masters! Y-you have to go through a whole bunch of other stuff. I’m n-not even good enough to be a Knight,” the little werewolf whimpers. He hunches his shoulders as high as they can go, trying to make his head disappear. “Y-you might think it’s just a metaphor, b-but I really am just a kid to my people. I don’t even have a pack. Y-you’ve had students before, and you have other mages who can back you up, b-but I’m really, really, scared, and that’s not stupid.”
“Of course it isn’t stupid.” Tag’s hands wrap gently around his student’s shoulders in his attempt at a comforting hug. “It’s a big responsibility. But if not you, who else can teach them how to be werewolves?”
“N-no one. Um. I’m still going to do it. It just scares me. A-and I really do have to build a sword. Um. The Uratha way.”
Spindle wriggles his shoulders to get comfortable in Tag’s hug.
“S-sorry. I know we have to get going.”
“We can talk along the way. You know you don’t have to do this alone. I may not be pack, but I can still provide a framework of support for you.”
Spindle peels himself free with a wet scratching sound. “Th-that sounds good. Um. Both parts. Um. J-just lead, and I’ll follow, um, k-keeping one eye on the other side.”
Tag nods and opens the door and silently leads his student with him to the city around them. He seems to take circuitous routes, seemingly at random.
“You were wrong about one thing: I never had a student before you.” He smiles wryly.
“Oh. Oh right.”
Spindle’s pulled out a pink umbrella with a chibi husky design to ward off the rain, and when he shakes his head a few drops go skittering onto Tag’s shoulder.
“S-sometimes I forget that. You really seem to know everything, or at least like you can figure it out. Um. You’re basically a Master too, right? Or at least, um, a Knight for sure.”
Tag laughs. It’s a genuine emote. “I’m a thunderbolt guardian. Middle management. I put up a good front, but I don’t know everything. And don’t let any magi convince you they’re all-knowing.”
“S-so a Knight,” Spindle presses. His chin tilts up to follow something Tag can’t see, then tips back down again. “Um. How did you know you were ready to be a teacher?”
“I never knew when I would be ready. I only knew that I didn’t want my order’s teachings to die with me.”
“I guess I don’t want that either.”
From the side of Beacon Hill the two can see out into the downtown area’s remaining lights. In broad strokes the cityscape looks the same as it always had, but without its ferris wheel and the rest of its sound-facing side, it has the feel of a partially amputated limb.
“If I did f-find a student, I could only teach them how to be an Iron Master, I guess. I could tell them about the other Tribes, and support them, b-but not really guide them. I’m not even a normal Iron Master; whatever I taught them would s-sort of be half-Arrow. I’d s-sort of be helping found a new school.”
“All our societies have been devastated. I knew that you wouldn’t be the traditional apprentice, but adaptability is strength. Perhaps there’s something we can learn from each other.”
“M-maybe we can do more to make a single training th-thing for any apprentices either of us finds. Um. L-let me help train your mages the werewolf way.”
Spindle turns his shiny eyes on Tag.
Tag regards his apprentice. “Some of them may be spoken for. There are other orders. But I wouldn’t be against you helping train those that wish to walk the Adamant Way.”
Spindle’s whole face smiles. “Th-that’s fine. Um. I can’t teach everyone. I d-don’t really know if I can teach anyone. Um. But if I can, I w-want to teach them about relying on each other, a-and reverence for the city around them.”
“I think those lessons are well worth learning.”
Tag catches Spindle’s butt waggling for want of a tail. The werewolf changes the subject.
“Um. It’s s-sort of weird on the other side right now. Everything’s sort of riled up. Spirits tend to cluster around First Changes, b-but the city’s huge, and I don’t, um, h-have enough friends to help me look. You’re sort of just following Fate, right?”
“Yes, trusting in the Force to guide me as it were.”
“What happens if you find someone who attacks you, or tries to run?”
“No matter what we find, I think we can both agree that leaving a supernatural to roam about the city without even the most basic training is dangerous. I’m prepared to take them in by force for a crash course if necessary.”
“Yeah. Um. How do you know if one should be, uh…?” Spindle makes a slicing motion across his neck.
Tag frowns. “I don’t plan on taking any lives.”
Spindle looks away, evidently uncomfortable. “There was something on the news. Um. J-just got me thinking.”
“What was on the news?”
“Just something that reminded me of, um, what can happen when a F-First Change goes really, really wrong.”
“That’s a cryptic answer for you.”
“A family died,” Spindle says softly. He keeps walking ahead of Tag.
“And you think it was one of yours?”
Spindle slows. His face scrunches as he searches for appropriately delicate phrasing. “No! It didn’t, um, r-really…match…exactly. Um. N-no animal claws or anything. Um. But, th-that could happen. With claws.”
“Well that’s why we’re out here. Hopefully we can identify most of the fledglings before they do something violent.”
“But what if they do? Um. Before us?”
“What do you think we should do?”
“I don’t know. Um. D-don’t kill them? Please? It’s n-not their fault.”
Spindle looks up at his teacher through sad, fluttering lashes.
Tag’s smile is small but genuine. “I don’t plan on killing anyone,” he reiterates.
“Should we do something for the, um, v-victims if it happens?”
“If we can. I can’t bring back the dead.”
“The families? Um. The survivors, I mean.” Spindle looks mortified at the conversation.
“If it’s in our power, yes.”
“Okay. Um. I’m sorry my people are such a mess.”
“Awakenings from my kind are on occasion, violent. You aren’t the only ones that can be a mess when new.”
“I still feel bad. It’s s-sort of like running around naked, except there’s also murder.”
“We’ll get to them before they do harm.”
Spindle hunches his shoulders inwards and hides under his umbrella.