Sheets of rain drowned out Sage's questions about his father. About the missing sheep and the mysterious wolf. All he could think about at the moment was getting the sheep penned and then drying by a warm fire.

By the time Sage and Jason had fenced the sheep in, they looked like two drowned rats; the rain had soaked through all their layers of clothes. Hawkeye gladly retreated to the open barn and shook his coat vigorously. Sage wished he could do the same. Instead, the two young men dripped in through the front door of the family's homestead, where a warm fire greeted them.

Violet and her mother, Eugenia, were both standing by a countertop, preparing the evening meal. Both women looked up from their work. Sage's and Violet's eyes met, and it filled him with warmth.

"You'll catch a cold!" the older woman warned, dropping her chopping knife, wiping her hands on her brown-smudged apron, and turning to grab some thick towels from a wooden chest in the corner.

As they crossed the threshold, Jason stripped off his shirt and waited, half-naked, until his mother handed him and Sage thick swaths of wool. Jason then dabbed his damp skin and mopped his hair, drying the curls that were streaked straight down his forehead.

"Your shirt has turned pink with blood." Violet creased her brow, walking forward, and wrapping the towel around Sage's shoulders as she led him close to the fire.

"Careful, it stings," Sage said, grimacing.

As he and Violet took a seat near the hearth, Jason crossed to a basin and started wringing the rainwater from his shirt. Sage tried not to stare at the teen's flat chest, which he bared so easily. Sage's whole life he'd seen men working without shirts on, casually tying them over their heads and necks to protect from sunstroke. He had once enjoyed that freedom, too. As a child, his only shame had been hidden between his legs, easily disguised in a pair of britches. But as he aged, it felt like his whole body had betrayed him. Changing and developing in ways that were becoming harder and harder to conceal.

"At least it's a warm day and this fire will dry you out in no time. But do you think you need fresh bandages? I'm sure you need to keep that wound dry." Violet touched the top of his chest tentatively, assessing his shoulder with the tips of her fingers.

Sage's cheeks flared pink at her touch, her hands so close to his secret. It made his skin prickle with delight and fear.

Every intimate moment between them did that to him. It was a sweet torture. His desire and longing edged with insecurity. All he wanted was to know her and for her to know him. To run his fingers through her blonde locks, to kiss the shadow above her collarbone, to feel the length of her pressed against him. Yet, her knowing him would also mean losing her. At least with his body so utterly incomplete.

He glanced back at her fingers, which remained perched at the border between his shoulder and his chest, dancing just beyond the edge of the carnation of blood that had seeped through his shirt. She was probably right. His wound should not remain damp for long. But there was no way he could disrobe in this room, not just in front of Violet, but her brother and mother, too. "My mother applied a healing paste. I'm sure that will protect my shoulder from a little rain water. Besides, this storm will pass soon, and then I will hurry back home."

After draping his shirt over a stool, Jason took a seat in the circle of crackling warmth, his chest still bare. "Violet, didn't you say that Phillip had gone to the meadow bluff? He wasn't there when I went and Sage didn't see him on his walk over either."

Violet cocked her head. "Yes. We walked there together, and he stayed when I continued down the hill home."

"That's strange. He must have gone back home," Jason mused, and then looked at Sage, "Do you want me to run over and see if he's there?"

The offer annoyed Sage. First, he saved the sheep when Sage could not, and now he was offering to go searching for his father? As his only son, that was Sage's responsibility. "No, but thank you. I will go back out as soon as the rain lets up," Sage said in a clipped tone.

Jason either ignored or didn't notice Sage's annoyance. He stood and tugged at his trousers. "Well then, I'm going to change out of these." Then he walked over to the ladder that was secured to the far wall and climbed up to the loft where he slept.

Sage was grateful that Jason wasn't comfortable enough to disrobe completely in front of him. He didn't think he could handle the shame of his own inadequacy.

With her brother gone and her mother still busy in the kitchen, Violet scooted closer to Sage, the edge of her dress dampening next to Sage's still-wet trousers. "The lamb didn't make it," she said, just above a whisper, "but you did well protecting the rest of the flock."

She placed her hand on his knee and Sage leaned in to her, not able to resist her pull.

Not wanting to be scolded for being too familiar with Violet, Sage glanced over at Eugenia, but her eyes remained focused on her knife. She was chopping meat. Lamb stew must be on the menu tonight. At least the lamb wouldn't go to waste. Although that still left the question of the lost sheep. "When I counted, there were three additional sheep missing." Sage confessed, just loud enough for Violet to hear.

Violet's lip jutting out slightly. "Maybe the wolf came back?"

That was what he feared most. Sage dragged his left hand down across his face. "I shouldn't have left. We should have penned the sheep first."

"You were bleeding!" Violet pivoted in her seat, facing him.

"A shepherd should be willing to die for his flock."

"And you were! You charged that beast gallantly!" She grabbed his left hand, drawing it into her lap.

Sage stared at her hand covering his. She had slender, narrow fingers, nails rounded smooth at the tips. Perfect hands. His were slightly wider, and compared to hers, they almost looked masculine. Were they strong enough to protect her? To care for her? Keep her safe, a way a husband should?

He hadn't been able to guard his flock.

"But then I abandoned them," he whined. Even as he formed the words, he knew he sounded pathetic. "One lamb dead, three missing, and when I went back to the meadow, there was one stranded on a narrow ledge below the cliff's edge."

"But you saved it. Right?" Her eyes encouraged him and tried to lift him up. What did she see in him to always be so positive?

Sage looked away, not able to handle her belief in him when he felt such disgust with himself. "No, I needed your brother's help."

Violet took one of her hands and cupped his chin, bringing his face even with hers. "Listen to me," she said in a low stern voice, "your shoulder is injured. Your dominant arm, too. All that matters is that the sheep was saved."

She was so pure. So hopeful and kind. He knew he didn't deserve her, yet staring into her eyes, the shade of ripe acorn nut, he also knew that he could never give her up. He'd do anything for her. To be with her.

If only things were that simple.

"I only pray your father will be so forgiving."

"He will be. He loves you, remember?" She smiled.

Sage couldn't return her smile. He knew Timaeus would never accept him if he ever learned of his true nature. "Where is your father?" he asked, looking around the room. Jason was at the edge of the loft, presumably to climb back down from his loft. Eugenia was still busy at her chopping board.

"He wasn't here when I came after the attack. My mother said that he was in the village on business."

Upon hearing herself mentioned, Eugenia looked up from her chopping. Maybe she wasn't so engrossed in her task as Sage had assumed. "He went to town to barter for cloth. Your bride-to-be must have a new dress for the wedding ceremony, and every day that passes is one less day we have to prepare. The ceremony will be here before you know it!"

The thought of marrying Violet caused both a rush of desire and an eruption of panic. All he wanted in the world was to be with her. Yet, how could he?

Eugenia was right. Every day that passed was one less day that the gods had to fix their mistake. To make him whole.

Sage looked from Violet to her mother, who was smiling. "Violet could wear rags and still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me."

Violet demurred. Her mother's grin widened.

Sage noticed that the rain had stopped, so he stood, suddenly filled with a sense of urgency. "I must go home, see if I can find my father, and I also should have my bandages changed." He took Violet's hand, held it to his mouth, and kissed each one of her knuckles. "I will see you again soon, my love."

Before Jason had made his way back into the room, Sage was out the door.

He was tired of waiting for the gods. Maybe he needed to go to them. When you wanted something, you didn't just sit back and hope that it would drop into your lap. You bartered for it. Fought for it. Demanded it. His mother had said enough prayers. It was time for Sage to claim his birthright.

How? He wasn't entirely sure. But he would climb all the way to the top of Mount Ovidia if that's what it took.

First, though, he would go home, as he said, and would see if he could solve the mystery of where his father had disappeared. And get his bandages changed.

Sage sloshed through the mud with conviction, marching past the sheep pen and the stone barn where Hawkeye looked up at him, one ear twitching, as if waving goodbye.

Before reaching the road, Sage passed the family's altar, which was covered by an awning and protected from the rain. Fresh blood dripped from the stone and pooled at its base from a recent sacrifice. The lamb, most likely. He hoped that the offering would put the gods in a better mood to receive him. But even if they weren't, he'd make sure they granted him an audience.