Harm had been busy since mid-morning when Wes had dropped him off at Pardew's. The old tenner lived on the outskirts of the town on the plains side. The fencing had been broken in several places, and he needed to replace five sections. It was obvious that it had never been properly maintained; several of the fence struts had warped and broken over time, while a couple looked as though they had been forced. Two of the posts were rotten and needed to be replaced.

When Pardew met Wes and Harm initially, Harm felt like a small child. The man had always been a member of the town since Harm could remember, and it only came to light in the discussion that Harm had broken in and stolen several bottles of alcohol from the man. He had stood almost shuffling his feet with embarrassment and apologised profusely. Pardew was a kindly man; his wife had passed a couple of years ago, and he had continued his trade. Harm knew that he went to the market to sell his wares at least once a week.

Harm swung the mallet down on the fence post, and the thwack and rhythm of his actions were something he was used to. His body ached, and his arms and shoulders burned again, which meant that again tomorrow, it was unlikely he would be fit to do much. 

"You're doin' a grand old job," Pardew said as he walked from the house. He was carrying a tray with a jug and two cups on it. "Here, grab yourself a drink."

Harm placed the hammer down and approached the man. "Thanks," he said, lifting a cup as Pardew poured him a glass. Harm looked in the cup, thankful it was water and gulped it eagerly, quenching his thirst. "I should hopefully finish in the next hour or so. Just have this post to finish and then the final struts to secure."

"It would have taken me an age to do what you have done in a few hours."

"I am just happy to be helping out," Harm said, and he genuinely was. Being outside in the fresh air and working was his life. "It's nice to be useful for a change."

"Aye, lad. Well, I won't keep you from your task. I'll leave the jug on the porch if you want another glass."

"Thanks," Harm said, returning to his task. 

Time ticked by as Harm completed his work, but he hadn't noticed the group that had appeared nearby. The first sign was when a small rock landed beside him. He frowned and turned in time to see a barrage of small stones being flung in his direction. He lifted his hand to protect his face as one flew towards it. 

"Thief," one voice yelled. 

"He should be exited," another jibed.

The apparent ringleader turned and glared at the boy. "It's executed; you dumb fuck."

Harm moved his arm from his face to see that the group was a bunch of kids. There were eight of them, and he recognised several. Another barrage of stones came towards him as the shouting of slurs or 'truths' was cast at him. He could feel his temper rising as he dodged or blocked the random stones that were actually accurate.

"Oi, you kids had better get out of here," Pardew called, appearing on his porch. "You have no right to be attacking a man."

Several of the children, seeing Pardew, turned and ran, but one of the more cocksure boys and a girl remained. "He is a thief and should be executed," he spat at Pardew.

"And you should have your hides tanned for doing what you're doing," Pardew debuted. "I know both your parents, especially you, Amelia. I suggest you hurry on back home before I go and speak to your mother about what you're up to."

The girls cockiness suddenly evaporated and she grabbed the boys arm. 

"Come on, let's go," Amelia said, pulling him.

The boy shrugged her off and turned, hurling one last rock at Harm before he turned and followed the retreating Amelia.

Pardew shook his head in dismay. "Sorry about that. Are you alright?"

Harm looked at his arm, where one of the sharp rocks had cut into his skin and wiped the trickle of blood with his sleeve. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"Don't you worry. I will be speaking to their parents when I see them next."

"Don't bother. It's not their fault; they will only be doing what their parents must have been talking about anyway."

"I doubt it. Amelia's mum is a healer. She wouldn't hurt an ant. It will be Sinclair's boy. His father is an arrogant bastard."

Harm knew Sinclair. He was a builder and a rival to Vic, Jill's husband, who had been Dahlia's best friend and the other leading builder in the township. Sinclair had a reputation that preceded him and a short temper, from what Harm could remember, having never dealt with him directly.

"Honestly, it's not worth it. Just let them be. I ain't injured to a degree that I need healing."

Pardew shook his head. "That's not the point, and you know it isn't."

"I was warned that there was bad blood after how I behaved. I want to get past it and move on."

"And that's what you are doin'. Others shouldn't be trying to bring you down."

"They were just kids." Harm said again, shaking his head.

"Okay, but if I see 'em near here again, then I will be," Pardew said.

"That's your choice. Anyway, I'd better get this last strut finished."

It didn't take Harm long to finish up, and once he had replaced Pardew's tooling in the shed and the remaining materials, he closed the door and walked to the back door, knocking.

Pardew answered momentarily.

"That you all done."

"Yep. As good as I could do."

Pardew looked at his newly repaired fence and smiled. "Thanks. It is appreciated."

"No problem at all. Thank you for the opportunity to right my wrongs."

"Did you want a drink before you head off?"

"No. I'm good. I will get going," Harm replied.

"Thanks again," Pardew said as Harm left.

Wes had initially brought Harm to Pardew's, and it was the first time Harm had been by himself since he had left the chapel. He ambled through the back streets of the town, heading back towards the chapel. The thought entered his mind of going to the farm, but he dared not after what Wes had told him. If it really was in that bad a state, he knew it would only break him. His muscles complained as he walked, and his back had a constant throb that outshone the pains in his arms and shoulders. It was worse than a toothache.

At that time of day, many families would be heading home for the day from their various tasks, and as he walked the streets, several passed him. No one spoke to him, but he did notice several looking at him warily. A mother and her child even crossed the street to remain as far away from him as they could as he passed by. It hurt Harm to see their reactions to him, and he picked up his pace as he returned.

Harm was entering the chapel grounds when he saw Wes walking out of the chapel, followed by Sister Carol. He had a worried look on his face. 

"Harm. Are you okay?"

Harm frowned, looking at them both. "Eah, why?"

"I went over to Pardew's to see if you were finished, and he told me what had happened. I came to see if you were back here yet, but when I found you hadn't returned, we were worried something might have happened to you."

"No. I'm all good. I just walked back through the outskirts, rather than straight through town," Harm shrugged, wishing he hadn't as he grimaced.

"You've overdone it again," Sister Carol said with a concerned look.

"Just a little sore. I'll be fine."

Sister Carol noticed the cut on HHarms ' forearm where the rock had struck him. "Oh, you're not. You have been bleeding."

Harm hadn't paid it any attention while he had carried on working, and there was a clear trail of blood continuing to weep down his arm. "Oh, this, it's just a scratch."

"You wait till I see that bastard," Wes said before his cheeks reddened. "Orry, Sister," he apologised.

"Here is no need to apologise; we all know Sinclair is a bastard, and his son isn't much better."

Wes almost choked when he heard the Sister swear, his eyes wide with alarm. ""ister!"

"Maybe a Sister now, but I started my life as a cleric. I have not always lived a peaceful life," she smiled.

Harm couldn't help but chuckle at her response. With his time at the chapel, Sister Carol had grown on him, and it wasn't the first time he had heard her curse.

"Let's get you inside. I expect you're hungry?"Sister Carol said.

HHarm'sstomach growled. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. "I am," he nodded.

The three of them entered the chapel and made their way to the kitchen, where Jeffer was sitting, eating a steaming bowl of stew. There were loads left still. "Help yourself," he said to Harm. 

"It's ready. I'll get it," Sister Carol said, ushering Harm to a seat.

Moments later, a steaming bowl of stew sat in front of Harm, and he reached for the loaf on the table, ripping a chunk off before dipping it in. He had to hand it to Sister Carol. She was a mean cook.

"This is great," he said, around a mouthful of bread.

Once Jeffer had finished eating, he left, saying he would be back in the morning, and Wes and the Sister sat patiently waiting for Harm to finish his meal as they talked between themselves. Apparently, Satil had again been increasing the town's taxes.

"Will he never learn?" Sister Carol said.

"Unlikely. They have gone up by nearly half since he took over as town leader. We still don't know where all this extra money goes. It's not as though we have seen any improvements."

Harm placed the spoon in the empty bowl, leaning back in his chair and patted his stomach. "That was delicious, thanks."

Sister Carol smiled. "Right then, know you are finished. Give me that arm of yours."

Harm turned his arm, where the blood was still oozing from the cut. It wasn't bleeding, but it hadn't scabbed due to his continual movements. He held his arm across the table so Sister Carol could look at it. She took hold of his wrist and spoke several words in a language Harm didn't recognise. As he watched, a soft glow emanated from the sister's palm, and he felt a warmth fill his body. The cut on his arm started to close, and the pain he had been feeling eased. The throb in his back was brushed away as though it were never there.

"Sister. You didn't need to heal me?" Harm said, shocked.

"Of course I did. We plan for you to regain your reputation through work, and if you aren't fit to work, then you can't do that, can you?"

Harm just looked at her in amazement. "Thank you." It was the best Harm had felt in an age, and the last time he had ever received healing had been years before. Healing in general wasn't cheap; even simple tonics cost too much for many. With the way his profits had dropped off over the recent months, there was no way he could have afforded anything, not that he had anything left now anyway.

"Right then. Now that is sorted, tomorrow's work," Wes said.

Harm turned to look at him. 

"What's needed?"

Wes shifted slightly in his chair, seeming a little uncomfortable.

"What's it?" Harm said.

"Well, tomorrow's work will be a test of your willpower."

Harm frowned, wondering what Wes was leading towards. "Oh, on."

"Hillman requires some new stands to be erected in the cellar at the tavern."

Sister Carol spoke before Harm could. "I will not allow it. There is no way Harm can go anywhere near a tavern."

"Didn't think you would. That was the better of the two options, though," Wes said.

"What's option two?" Harm asked himself, unsure about going near a tavern. The demon still resided in him, and he argued with it.

"Satil needs some work done."

Sister Carol had just taken a sip of water and nearly spat it out. "Satil?"

"Yes. Satil. When I spoke at the town meeting about Harm doing some work, he was there obviously, and he approached me today asking me about it."

Sister Carol looked at Harm. The whole town was well aware of the past between Harm and Satil.

"It's fine," Harm said. "I have nothing against the man. He may be a bastard," he said, glancing at Sister Carol, who smiled. "But I am the one who struck his son. He never struck my child."

"Are you sure?" Sister Carol asked.

"Aye. I have no direct grief with him."

"Okay, then. That settles it. I will let him know that you can be there tomorrow."

"Oh, you know what the work is?" 

Wes's cheeks reddened slightly. "Hey, require a waste pit to be emptied."

Sister Carol gasped. "That's a manager's job. They burn the waste to dispose of it."

"Well, Satil apparently doesn't wish to pay the mage's fees, so he has asked if Harm can do it."

"So he wants him swimming in shit," Sister Carol said.

That comment even took Harm by surprise, and they looked at each other for several moments before bursting into laughter.