I can’t help but smile. Somehow I just knew he would give these back to me. “Thank you,” I say, trying not to show my excitement. As the rifle is placed into my left hand, and my knife into my right, I feel as though I’m being reacquainted with old friends. The solid wood stock of the rifle feels perfect in my grip. Grasping the smooth knife handle brings a sense of protection, but also foreboding as I know it will more than likely meet the rotting skull of a greyskin like it has so many times before.

“The gun has been properly cleaned and the knife has been sharpened,” he says with a grin. The dimple on the right side of his cheek shows as he starts to look away and shuffle through more empty-looking bags in the back seat.

The moment is too good to be true, it seems, when a familiar, low voice cuts through the air behind me, turning my insides to ice. “I’m sure it feels nice to have your weapons back, doesn’t it?” Paxton says as he walks up to the group. Skip and Mendez stand a little straighter though Gabe barely notices the town leader. I spin on my heel, my heart beating faster.

Paxton has a tight smile on his face, one that seems forced. His dark hair is interrupted by grey near his temples, and a few days of salt and pepper stubble cover his chin and cheeks. I wish there was something I could do about the tempo of my heart. This isn’t like the throbbing heartbeat I get when Gabe comes near me. When Paxton comes close it feels like fear. Shouldn’t I feel safe when he is near? Although I must admit, the loaded silver gun in my pack does add to the tension. All he would have to do is ask, and my bag would be searched. I would be exposed as the culprit who ransacked a desk, stole minutes from boring meetings, and snatched a gun. I would never be able to explain myself to him or anyone else. But he had stolen from me. In some way, it was like taking back my things. Now, I have my weapons back, plus Paxton’s. I feel no guilt…just nervousness.

Paxton stands in front of us with his hands on his hips. “Gabe, do you have a weapon for me?”

Gabe jerks his head toward Paxton, forgetting the duffle bags in the back seat. “Pardon?”

“A gun,” he says, still smiling. “It would do me some good to get outside of these walls for a few hours,” he turns his eyes to me, “get my hands dirty.”