Chapter One

Maxwell pulled his sword out of the last brigand, and the man fell to his knees. His face planted in the soil, unmoving, and his hand was still gripping his chipped sword. Maxwell withdrew his bloody sword, the bright red liquid sliding off.

As weapons kept clashing between men below, a cloud, like a fluffy plate, wafted past the late afternoon sun. The air was warm despite a whistling wind that was too weak to swirl the molten red leaves off the forest floor but promised a comforting chill later after the sunset.

The battle between his band, the Red Hawk scouts, and a common group of outlaws ended, and they had triumphantly won. He knew he had to praise their skills because they were too small of a group to outnumber them. Usually, Maxwell and his scouts didn’t want any of this, but the outlaws couldn’t help but push. They were notoriously fueled by greed.  He knew it would be their downfall.

Maxwell turned to the rest of his band; none were gravely injured, only a few scratches and nicks here and there. As he opened his mouth to speak, he caught sight of something moving amongst the pile of bodies. The other members saw it as well. A brigand was still alive.

“Seize him.” Maxwell ordered fast enough.

The order was acted on immediately. Two of his scouts rushed over to the moving body, who tried to scramble away after realizing he had been caught. A kick to the legs did the trick, and the man fell to his side with a low groan, face scrunched up in pain. He was held down with a foot on his chest and another dangerously hovering over his throat. He was old, Maxwell noticed. The gray hair on his head, the sagging on his face, he was old enough to be a grandfather.

“Please! Please spare me. Do nae kill me. I have a family!” This earned snickers from the rest of the scouts as Maxwell closed in on the man, unsheathing his sword. He almost felt pity for the unfortunate man because he was now alone. Yet, he had a duty to protect his group.

“We have families to return to as well. I am sure ye did nae think of that when ye attacked us, did ye?” Maxwell pressed the tip of his sword to the trembling man’s forehead.

“I beg yer forgiveness! Please, I can pay ye.” This caught Maxwell’s interest. “Aye, I can pay ye. Look.” The man fumbled with his breeches before taking out a gold pendant enclosed around a red gem. Maxwell narrowed his eyes at the man before snatching the pendant from his hands. The rest of his scouts quickly gathered around him, each wanting to catch a glance at the payment.

Maxwell sheathed his sword as he flipped the pendant over, and surely behind the pendant was a familiar crest. The crest of the Macmillan clan. Eyeing the brigand on the floor, Maxwell tossed the pendant back at him. “Ye want to pay us with stolen goods?”

“Nae! They are nae stolen, I promise ye.” The man pleaded, but his words caused Maxwell to raise a sharp brow at him.

“They? Ye have more?” Upon realizing his mistakes, the man went wide-eyed, head shaking just the slightest, but Maxwell did not need to hear any more from him. “Search their wagon. Every bag, every sack, and every box. Find those gems.” The scouts set to work on the wagon, emptying whatever they could get their hands on. As predicted, the scouts dragged off a fur bag from the wagon, setting it down before Maxwell, who pried it open to be met with not just gems but gold and silver as well.

“Let him go.” Maxwell turned to his men and beckoned for them to allow the brigand to get to his feet. “If I am nae mistaken, ye got this from the Macmillan clan? The pendant has a crest on the back of it.”

“Aye, but I swear, I didnae steal from them. They made me stay back and watch the wagon. Please dinnae kill me.” Maxwell tossed the bag to one of his men with a low chuckle before stretching out his hand to the brigand. The man reached out to touch the hand but was slapped away.

“Dinnae touch me. Give me the pendant. What else did ye steal with yer group? Give it all to me.” The old man nodded, dipping his hands in his breeches to pull out a handful of necklaces as well as the pendant from the ground, handing it over as fast as he could.

“Is this all?” Maxwell asked, not trusting the man.

“Aye, I swear, that is all I took. I wanted to-”

“I didnae ask ye what ye wanted to do with it. Ye are old, way past yer youth. Even if I kill ye, it will make nae difference.” The older man let out a whimper as he inched away.”So, I’ll spare ye.” Maxwell dipped his hand in his breeches, taking out a gold coin and tossing it at the old man. ” But, if I ever see ye in these forests again, I won’t pardon ye.”

The man stuttered out his gratitude as he hurried over to one of the three horses that pulled the wagon, galloping away as fast as he could.

“What will we do with the bodies?” Maxwell turned to Kenzie MacDonald, a great warrior amongst them who had asked the question, and found him kicking lightly at one of the bodies. Maxwell sent a disapproving frown towards the massive, dark-haired man, and Kenzie backed off.

“Leave them. They would have done the same fer us. We can bring the horses along. They’ll die if we leave them here.” Eon chuckled at his leader.

“Ye worry about horses after we killed men. What runs through yer head, Maxwell?” Maxwell paid the man no heed as he turned to the rest of his men with a sigh.

Running into the brigands was entirely out of his prediction. He had hoped they could get to the next village without a hassle until they showed up. They were thieves, and Maxwell had no idea what havoc they might have caused in the village they were coming from. However, it would be a wise move if he avoided going there entirely for the time being. They also had new tasks to carry out. His eyes darted to the bag of jewels. They had to return that.

Surely, he could let the scouts keep it, but it would go against their honor. It would still be considered stealing if they were caught with it. It did not matter if they were not the ones who carried out the first theft. Some of the items were marked. Selling it would be almost impossible, but of course, Maxwell had to listen to what his group was thinking.

He knew that some called the Red Hawks mercenaries, some called them thieves, some called them a merry band of men, but what could not be disputed was the strength and skill of each member. He wasn’t a stranger to the absurd rumors about him and his men. He even had a few good laughs about them. It even made him proud of the members he had gathered.

“Sir, what will we do with the bag?” Kenzie piped up, and the rest of the scouts turned to him. While Kenzie was an excellent archer, rarely missing his aim, his frequent complaints about anything he deemed a bad idea had earned him an unfavourable alias; the nagging wife.

“We have to return it, of course,” Freya replied almost immediately though her attention was mostly with the bloody sword she was trying to clean. “Why dae ye even have to ask what we are to do with it, Kenzie?” she raised her eyebrows questioningly, while Maxwell watched the encounter between them.

Freya Docherty was the only woman amongst the scouts, and she had done well in earning her spot. Frankly, she was the only woman Maxwell had ever met that could hold out for a good time in a duel with him.

“But this is a lot, and winter is almost here. We need a comfortable inn to stay till spring.” Kenzie said almost under his voice, trying to avoid Maxwell’s face. “I am nae saying we should take it all.” He added gently.

“I understand ye, Kenzie. Yer worries are genuine, and I understand that this is a lot, enough to ensure a warm winter. Winter will come and go, but if we take even a wee bit of this, we would have become thieves ourselves.” Maxwell turned to fave the others as he continued, “A stain in our robe, is it nae? We have just enough resources to last us through the winter, a job is most likely to surface soon, and if ye are still worried, we can stay the winter at me clan.”

Maxwell added the pieces that the thieve had handed over into the bag. “But the rest of ye might nae feel the same way, so why don’t we take a vote. If ye want us to keep the jewels, ye may step aside.”

Everyone always got a say in whether to stay for the night somewhere or about what job to take. This led to counting heads, as Eon, the oldest of the members, had put it. They always went with what the majority wanted, which meant no actual leader existed. But even though Maxwell continually mentioned it, his men still regarded him as the one, even refusing to call him by name except for Eon.

Maxwell watched as Archie, another scout, and Kenzie stepped aside while the others stayed put. In the band of four men and one woman, they were outvoted.

“Dinnae take that to heart, men. Look on the bright side. We could get rewarded by the Macmillan clan. They might let us stay the winter. Dinnae fret, Kenzie. We will be just fine.”

A new adventure awaited them, a new task to complete. Yet, they could also suffer a harsh winter that might turn the others against Maxwell, and it was a risk he had to take. Since he left his clan, Maxwell only lived for his men. He thrived amongst them more than he would have beside his older brothers. His father made that painfully clear while growing up.

Maxwell was first to rise and enter the courts when he was at his clan, but he was only asked to stand guard outside when the time came for important meetings. All it took was a look from his father for Maxwell to know his presence was no longer needed.

However, he did love the thrills and benefits that came with life outside his clan. It was satisfying but only up to a point. He did not know what he longed for; but, he obviously needed something else. Something unique to add to all he already had.

The Red Hawks set towards the south for the Macmillan clan late that afternoon. As they guarded the sack of jewels, they hoped Laird Macmillan was generous enough to offer them a reward of some sort. However, what lay ahead proved otherwise.

***

It was quiet in the Macmillan clan. A little too quiet considering that yet another theft had occurred. Their treasury had been looted two days ago. The day before had been full of ruckus, guards scrambling on the orders of the head guard and Laird Macmillan to find the thieves. Lady Olivia Macmillan stared out of her window at the top of the reddish trees behind her bedroom chambers that the high walls did not obstruct. She waited for a call, a cry even, anything to alert her of the current situation of their stolen jewels.

Stretched out on her bed, her younger sister, Blaire, unfurled yet another sealed envelope before her face scrunched up. “Such horrid handwriting.” She tossed the letter aside, joining the growing pile on the wooden floor before she picked another one from the stack before her. “Ye are awfully quiet.”

“Well, I have nothing to talk about. Have ye heard anything all day? Anything at all?” Olivia inched closer to her sister, who shook her head, with her brown eyes scanning the letter in her hands.

“Oh, this one is quite poetic. Read it.” The letter was thrust towards her, but Olivia tossed it with the other opened ones, caring for one thing only.

“Blaire, the keep is very still. It has been all day. Do ye think they caught the thieves?”

“I doubt it. Those jewels are gone.” Blaire picked up another envelope. Olivia resumed her position by the window with a sigh as she looked below to see if the guards had any luck. She would not consider the content of any suitor’s envelope now, she would rather focus on the jewels. That was a problem for another time, one she hoped wasn’t near. A knock on her door caused both girls to sit straight, only relaxing when their father slipped into the room. Laird Macmillan raked a hand through his thinning red hair, taking a deep breath before he started.

“We still cannae find them, but the jewels are nothing to be worried about.” Olivia almost knew what would follow. “But we have to be able to strengthen our defense. If common thieves can get in, who knows what else could pay us a nae so friendly visit. In the meantime, we must discuss the matter of your marriage.” He added sternly.

“Father, I will nae marry someone I dinnae ken just because-” Olivia started, but her father raised a hand to silence her.

“Ye need to understand, Olivia. Most marriages between people of our position are planned, and it always ends fine. Yer mother and I were arranged to wed, and we came to love each other over the years. We had ye and yer sister, is that nae enough proof that this will lead to happiness?”

“Father, I can nae marry someone I do nae even know. I have never even seen some of these men in me life.” Olivia gestured towards the pile of letters on the ground. “I want to be able to make me own decision, and I have decided I do nae want any of them.” She tried to sound as determined as she felt, hoping that this time she would convince him.

“And should the clan continue to suffer because of that decision? The more ye neglect this marriage issue, the weaker our defenses become. The villagers are getting terrified, the settlers have even gone as far as packing up and leaving. Our numbers are falling. Please, Olivia, ye are a beautiful lass at her prime. This is the best age fer ye to find a suitable husband from a strong clan. The stronger his clan is, the stronger this clan will be. We will be able to protect the keep and the villagers. We are already suffering so badly from terrible people like thieves. If a larger clan raids us, we will be done fer.” Her father became even more persistent by the minute.

Olivia knew the risk of her refusals. Her clan would continue to suffer, weakening with each attack. For all she knew, a larger, rival clan could be behind the thieves, waiting till they were on their knees before they struck.

The aftermath of a raid was not something Olivia ever wanted to befall her clan. Women and children would be carted off. Men slaughtered like animals. Her clan would be reduced to nothing but ashes. She knew all this, but she was disgusted by the fact that she had to be married off to a complete stranger just for protection.

“And as much as I hate to do this, Olivia, if ye do not choose a man by spring, I will be forced to choose one fer ye meself.” This received a cry of protest from the girls, but Laird Macmillan only shook his head at them.

“And if ye refuse to marry him, I will have to marry yer sister off before ye.” Olivia turned to her sister, then her father, mouth agape at his solution. Never had she thought her father would say that. Blaire was still too young to be married away. It would be pure wickedness.

“Father, ye want to sell us off like livestock? Blaire is too young to be married! I refuse to let ye do this to her.” Olivia stepped up to her father, and her brows were pulled further downwards as the fury stirred within her.

“It is what I must do. I have a clan to protect!” He growled.

“At the expense of yer own daughters?” Olivia snapped back. “Ye are willing to marry off one of us to any man as long as it will add to yer defense.” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Think about it, Olivia. Do nae force me to give yer hand. I expect yer answer during supper.” As fast as he had slipped on, Laird Macmillan excused himself, leaving behind one furious daughter and the other with clothes drenched in tears.

Chapter Two

Brittle leaves flew past Maxwell’s blond head, landing on the ground behind him. The loud crunching of them beneath their horses’ hooves was the only sound for miles other than the occasional grunts from the Red Hawk’s horses. The sun had only started to climb up to its highest position in the sky. They had been on the road for almost a day with no sight of the clan.

“Shall we look at the map again?” Freya asked one of the scouts as he raised the map in his hand. “Perhaps we’ve made a wrong turn somewhere.”

“Ye looked at it a while ago, so unless routes have picked themselves up and changed, I think that’s unnecessary.” Archie countered, earning a small smack in the face that almost made Frey lose her balance on her horse because of her movement.

“Stop it, the both of ye!” Eon snapped at the grumbling men. “The less noise we make, the fewer enemies we are sure to attract. Dinnae forget what we are carrying. We should arrive at the clan soon, right, Maxwell?”

Maxwell shrugged. “Hopefully.”

“Hopefully? My goodness, we’re lost, are we nae?” Kenzie asked as he hastened his horse to ride next to Maxwell.

However, as Maxwell had assured them, they caught sight of the clan’s walls just ahead of the reddening trees. The sun had started to scorch down on them by the time they reached the clan’s walls. As expected of a small clan, their gates were not opened to just anyone. A handful of guards protected the entrance, armed to the teeth as if headed for war. Their spears crossed over the gates, shielding them from going through.

“Who are ye and state yer reason of arrival.” One of the guards on the right asked as he stepped up to them, with his hand going to the sword by his side.

“We come in peace. We only request a meeting with yer laird.” Maxwell spoke for the group confidently, and the guard eyed him. “We happened to find something of his and would like to return it.”

“What is it?” The guard asked suspiciously now.

“As I said, I request an audience with yer laird only.”

“Laird Macmillan’s time is too precious to be wasted on unknown affairs. Leave.” The guard unsheathed his sword, and behind Maxwell, his men were about to do the same but were stopped by his order.

“Stand down.” Maxwell ordered his group, then faced the guards, “We mean ye and yer clan nae harm. If ye want us to leave, then we will. We have more jewels than ye could even pay us with.” This caused the guard to relax, his stance dissolving immediately.

“Ah, now ye want to hear me out?” Maxwell said mockingly.

“Explain yerself.” The guard on the right stepped forward and the previous guard reclined with a bow. It seemed the man was of higher authority to Maxwell, perhaps even the head guard, judging from his clothes.

“Who are ye?” The second guard asked.

“I am Maxwell Murphy, a member of the Red Hawks. I only come to return what belongs to ye. Me men and I stumbled upon a group of unruly men this time yesterday. We retrieved some precious items from them and the information that they had come from yer clan. We only mean to give them back.”

The man nodded, a bad combing through his beard. “I see. And ye wish to speak directly to Laird Macmillan? Well, that is nae issue. Pardon me subordinate, the clan has been on edge after that horrible experience. I am Harold Robinson, the head guard of the Macmillan Clan. At this time, we dae nae and cannae trust anyone. Ye have to hand those to me, and I will give it to Laird Macmillan. Even if ye seek rewards, I can give ye a few things to thank ye.”

The man was probably as old as his eldest brother, his face almost flawless if not for the slight drooping at the corner of his lips. He stood tall, head held high to stand as tall as Maxwell himself.

“It would, but I’d rather hand it to Laird Macmillan himself. That should really be no issue, should it?” Maxwell raised a brow at the head guard. They were being protective of their laird, a little too defensive. This led Maxwell to think that the clan was temporary without a laird. The absence of a laird meant an easier clan to raid. “Or is yer laird nae on the seat?”

“T’is nothing like that. I will take ye to him.” The head guard guided them past the clan’s walls into the village. Although it was known the Macmillan clan was not very dominant, he had heard his father speak of it perhaps a few times. However, nothing significant could be said about it.

The village itself was small, not as populated as he had hoped, even the market when they rode past what should have been a colorful scene. The buildings were well kept, the children looked well-fed. Maxwell could tell their laird was kind to them. He could easily pick up things like that from the years he spent in his clan but still, he was inclined to ask. “Why are there are only a few people outside?

“Maxwell, was it nae?” The head guard said as he glanced back momentarily at Maxwell, who nodded.

“Laird Macmillan has instructed a curfew. T’is almost time fer them to return home.”

“I suppose the curfew was to catch thieves?”

“At least to keep the people safe.” The guard responded, and Maxwell nodded, looking back at his men and locking eyes with Eon, who rode up to meet his pace.

“I feel uneasy. Perhaps we should just hand the bag to the head guard and leave. This place is unsettling.” Eon whispered just loud enough for Maxwell to hear.

“I do feel something is off about the guard’s explanation but listen to me carefully. Even if they become hostile, do nae draw yer sword. Do nae fight.” Maxwell replied as they soon started to approach a walled fortress.

“Are ye sure, Maxwell?”

“Aye. Act ignorant. We are almost at the keep. Spread the word to the others. Do nae fight unless I give ye the order.” Eon nodded before falling behind. Maxwell could hear them whispering behind him, but it went silent when they reached the fortress, the gates slamming down behind them.

“Come with me. I can take ye to the hall to meet Laird Macmillan.” Harold Robinson motioned with his head.

Maxwell took a look at his surroundings, guards posted at every corner of the entrance, the door that led into the fortress was wide open, and he could see a guard and a few maids hurry past it.

“Nae. Me men and I have places to be. Have him come to us.” Maxwell quickly took notice of the head guard’s change in demeanor. Going further into the keep would put his men in danger, a risk he didn’t want to take, so he strengthened his resolve.

“Ye ask Laird Macmillan to come to see ye instead? Such audacity.” Harold stepped up to Maxwell’s horse, hand on the weapon’s hilt by his side.

“I wouldnae do that in front of a horse—especially nae in front of a horse that has seen enough bloodshed to associate a blade with death. And besides, I trust me horse to protect me if the need arises. All I ask fer is yer laird. Let him come to us, we’ll hand over the bag to him, and leave.”

“And why can ye nae give it to me?” Harold asked, retracting his hand from his weapon.” I am the head guard. I can go to Laird Macmillan directly.”

“Aye, that is because I do nae trust ye. I have seen yer defense. Even if the thieves came into the clan under the pretense of merchants, there should nae be an easy way fer them to make their way into a keep such as this. Yer walls are almost as tall as the trees in the forest, there is only one visible entrance, and they guard that,” Maxwell gestured to the four-armed guards similar to the ones at the gates of the clan, “and I do nae think ye had any event of some sort that would require ye to leave yer gates wide open. Other than that, there are guards in every corner of the yard and more inside the keep. I can nae think of any way a thief could make his way in to steal something like this, let alone a whole band of them.”

“So are ye saying I let them in?” Harold crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes flashing angrily, “That I helped them.”

“Nae, I have said nae such thing. On the contrary, ye said it yerself.” Maxwell replied casually. Stoking his anger was of no use to him.

Harold huffed, shaking his head with a sigh as he motioned for them to wait before disappearing into the keep.

Maxwell’s men quickly surrounded him, Kenzie muffling his laughter with a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Are ye sure ye should be taunting him like that?” Archie asked as Kenzie’s laugh died down into snickers. “We are gravely outnumbered, and Eon said ye didnae want us to fight. Why?”

“If they become hostile towards us, the most they can do is turn us away, chase us off, but if we fight, we risk getting injured. I ken each of ye are strong in yer own way, but we cannae possibly take on an entire army.”

“We can. We’ve fought more experienced men. These ones look like they would collapse under the weight of full armor.” Eon scoffed as he cracked his knuckles.

“Eon, we had fought bigger groups because we were hired to. Let us just be nice, listen to Sir Maxwell and trust his judgment.” Kenzie countered. “And besides, we have to find a place to stay fer the winter.”

“Why are ye so worried about finding a place fer the winter? Will ye hibernate during this time, and ye do nae want us to ken?” Eon teased right back, earning a scoff and a grumble from Kenzie.

Eon opened his mouth to talk when Maxwell noticed Harold returning, and behind him was an older man. The guards immediately bowed at his arrival, Maxwell knew he was facing Laird Macmillan. The man was not what Maxwell was expecting. A young laird at most or at least someone younger.

“Get down from yer horse. Ye are in the presence of Laird Macmillan!” Harold snapped at them, and the scouts turned to look at him. Maxwell nodded, sliding off his horse, and his men did the same, copying his every move as he bowed before Laird Macmillan.

“Forgive us, me laird. It has been quite a while since we have been in front of a laird.”

“I see. Me head guard told me ye have something of ours, but ye refused to give it to him.” Although he wasn’t young, Laird Macmillan spoke firmly.

Maxwell rose to retrieve the sack of jewels from Kenzie and placed it carefully in front of Laird Macmillan. Then again, he crouched.

“Where did ye find this?” The laird asked with suspicion in his voice.

“Our paths crossed with that of the thieves, and they attacked us. This is what we took from them along with the information that they belonged to ye from the last one of them.” Maxwell replied immediately as Laird Macmillan handed the bag to his head guard.

“So ye want me to believe that ye found this many jewels, and ye returned it without taking anything?” Maxwell did not need to raise his head at Laird Macmillan to know he was sneering. “That seems a little far-fetched.”

“Me men and I never take things that do nae belong to us. We each have our honor as a man and as a group.” Maxwell said proudly, trying to convince the man.

“And I say ye lie.” Laird Macmillan stepped up to Maxwell, who rose back to his feet, towering over Laird Macmillan.

“Maxwell Murphy, was that nae what ye told me guard? I say ye were the ones that stole it in the first place.”

“If we were, then why would we return with it?” Maxwell was caught off-guard by Laird Macmillan’s faithless reasoning, but he knew he had to control his irritation.

“Our items are marked. Nae merchants would be stupid enough to buy marked items even if they would be sold overseas. Ye couldnae dump them; they would have nae meaning to anyone that finds it. Even if ye had told me ye accidentally found this, I wouldnae have believed ye. Ye could’ve tooled some of it and planned to return the rest for reward money, from what I can see. Yer plan is to rub us twice! “Laird Macmillan’s words stiffened the guards around him, and they slowly gathered into an attacking formation behind him.

Before Maxwell could say a word, Eon spoke up, “Perhaps the thieves had taken a little out of it; we wouldnae ken. We did notice some were marked, but we have nae gone through the whole bag. We have only returned yer items to ye, and we will nae stand here and be insulted!” Eon stepped forward, and the rest of the scouts joined.

“If ye can nae be grateful, that is fine, but do nae insult us any longer lest we lose our temper.” He continued angrily.

Laird Macmillan scoffed, stepping in front of Eon. “Watch how ye speak to me, lad. I am Laird Macmillan of-”

“We frankly do nae care who ye are. Ye are nae our leader, and we will nae let ye speak to him like that. Ye have yer jewels. We will be taking our leave now.” Kenzie cut Laird Macmillan off before turning towards their horses, leaving Maxwell still in front of Laird Macmillan.

Maxwell gave a deep bow to Laird Macmillan. “Forgive me men. If ye won’t have us, then we must leave.” Speaking with a dampened spirit, Maxwell gently raised his head and began to turn away.

Unblinking, arms folded, and legs spread, Laird Macmillan spoke again, “Nae, nae. Nae so fast.” As he started to talk, the guards moved past him and towards the paused Maxwell.

“Ye stole from me, and when ye have taken what ye need, ye return the branded ones to me. Ye are still thieves. Ye disrespect me, calling me out to see ye and even insult me to me face. Do ye think I will simply let ye go that easily? Without producing what ye have stolen?”

“Me laird, ye have nae proof that we are actually the thieves who stole from ye, and I can nae tell if yer rash conclusions are due to yer anger or yer frustration. I had a feeling ye might act this way. If ye arrest us, ye can nae hold us fer long and I will nae let ye insult me or me men…” Maxwell said as the guards in the yard started to circle him, and his men with spears pointed with intent.

Laird Macmillan cut in before he could finish, “Oh, we will just have to see about that, won’t we?” Laird Macmillan turned to head guard.

“Seize them and throw them in the dungeons. I will address their punishments when I am ready.” He said dismissively.

Maxwell looked at his men. They looked back, awaiting an order to attack. But Maxwell laid down his sword, and so did they, albeit begrudgingly.

He was starting to feel afraid of what was to become of his band, but one thing was sure; they would find a way out.

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