Some hours later, Chatter stopped and glanced up at the sky. They turned back to Trish.


    Trish signed, ‘Did you lose the trail?’


    Chatter signed, ‘You wound me. No, it’s time we head back. I estimate we’re a few hours from the town. They’re circling it, which is disconcerting.’


    Trish squared her shoulders. ‘I noticed. Which is why I must continue the search.’


    She had a steely look in her eyes that Chatter didn’t like.


    Chatter signed, ‘You’re not staying out here alone tonight.’


    ‘Well you can hear, and I’m not done working the dampener, so obviously you can’t stay.’


    ‘I’ll rephrase, because you’re being deliberately obtuse. Neither of us is staying here. And when did you have time to work on a dampener?’


    ‘I got up early. We’re distinctly lacking in even basic banshee equipment, if you didn’t notice. I decided to remedy that best I can.’


    Chatter signed, ‘And did it occur to you that there may be a reason why the banshee was not on the notice, when the Dedicated made it clear that this information was passed on? That there may be something we’re not seeing?’


    Trish frowned. ‘I’m sure Dender just forgot to check a box. It’s not relevant now, apart from our lack of equipment. Back to the matter at hand, I need to speak with the banshee as soon as I can in the interest of resolving this quickly. That means camping out.’


    ’The Reeve only allowed us on our own because I told him we would return tonight.’


    ‘The Reeve allowed us?’ Trish echoed with a contemptuous flick of her fingers. ‘He holds no authority over me in pursuit of my duty.’


    ‘Perhaps, but if you persist in making light of the situation I will drag you back to town in pursuit of my own duty,’ Chatter signed, agitation making their signs sharp and staccato.


    Trish scowled. ‘You overstep, Chatterwell.’


    Chatter’s ears twitched.


    Carefully, they signed in more measured motions, ‘Warden, with respect, the situation is strange. You can’t know what to expect from this banshee.’


    Trish huffed. ‘Now you sound like the Reeve. You saw the body. It’s most likely this is an accident. If the banshee had violent tendencies, we would know.’


    ‘We don’t know anything for certain. We should wait until tomorrow and confront them together in the day. They’ll be slow, unsure of themselves, blinded. We can surprise them in their hidey hole. It’ll be easier to get answers. Easier yet for me to defend you.’


    Trish signed sharply, ‘I’ll not disrespect them like that. They might not even know they’ve killed anyone. They don’t warrant that kind of treatment if so, and once done it can’t be taken back. It’s exactly that kind of behavior that the enclave cites as one of their greatest reasons to distrust humans. If this is our first encounter with a new enclave, it must be done delicately and in good faith.’


    Chatter signed, ‘Your life is worth more than a good introduction!’


    Trish signed, ‘Enough. I don’t want to debate the basics of diplomacy with you.’


    ‘Diplomacy!’ Chatter signed explosively. ‘A man’s been murdered!’


    They winced as soon as they signed the last word. They shouldn’t have said that.


    Trish looked at them with a blank face that practically screamed disappointment.


    She signed, ‘Give me the supplies, then go. I’ll send you my coordinates on the pad when I make camp. You’ll come meet me tomorrow morning.’


    She held out her hand.


    Chatter stared at her, feeling helpless. Their first duty was to follow her orders. Their second was to protect her. Their third was to interpret for her. They liked the second and third duties best. The first was sometimes frustrating. This was the first time it was painful.


    They signed, ‘If this is because you feel you have something to prove, you don’t.’


    Trish signed, ‘I will claim breach if I must, Chatterwell.’


    Chatter winced. ‘No need. The ink stands, Signatory.’


    They put a frustrated flourish of emphasis on the last word, but they did comply.


    <hr>


    Riven stood staring at the ghosts in the woods as the hour turned gold, sucking his thumb thoughtfully. A big fat red bird fluttered up and perched on the tree next to him.


    Riven looked up at it and said, “Ye’re weird.”


    The bird looked down at him and said, “Oh, are we just saying awkward truths? Okay, you’re too old to suck your thumb.”


    Riven nodded thoughtfully. “I know. But it helps everyone baby me, which I appreciates most times.”


    The bird said, “Definitely too old.”


    Riven looked at the ghosts again.


    He said, “How come Lainey can’t see ‘em?”


    The bird said, “See what? What are you… oh gods damn it all, it doesn’t matter what you see. You’re obviously a weird child, which is exactly what we don’t need right now. Does the Dedicated know you’re a- a whatever you are?”Stolen novel; please report.


    Riven said, “She says I’m a neck o man sir.”


    The bird said, “A neck o- oh. Ugh. Gross. You should get that looked at.”


    Riven said, “Ye’re gross!”


    “I’m a demon. It’s to be expected. You’re a… a small child! Who should go inside and not come out at all tonight.”


    Riven said, “Cause o the banshee. I know. Pol tole me.”


    The bird fluffed itself up indignantly. “Of course he did. Don’t tell anyone about the banshee yet.”


    Riven shrugged. “They don’t believe me. Never do.”


    Riven’s ma leaned out the window.


    Riven said, “Watch this.”


    His ma said, “Riven, hon, time to come in now. Da’s jes finishin dinner.”


    Riven said, “Alright ma, but first lemme finish talkin to the demon.”


    The demon squawked in protest.


    She said playfully, leaning her arms over the sill, “Oh? An where’s the demon?”


    Riven pointed at the bird, which hopped agitatedly. “It doesn’t want me to tell ye bout the banshees.”


    His ma sighed, standing upright. “Alright, Riven, as ye say. Now please say goodbye to yer demon friend. Tell him ye can play later.”


    She closed the window behind her.


    Riven looked up to the demon. “I gots to go.”


    “Mhm.”


    “Good luck huntin tonight. The ghosts aint actin quite right.”


    The demon said, “Exactly what I need to hear. Gods damn it.”


    Riven smiled. “Ye’re welcome.”


    The bird fluffed up. “Sees spirits, misses sarcasm. You’re a weirden in the making, child.”


    “Thankee!”


    “Not a compliment.”


    <hr>


    Flip was sitting on his porch sipping some whiskey and watching the sunset when a big fat red bird landed on the railing. It looked at him then turned to look over the woods. He looked at it, puzzled.


    “Well, aren’t you a handsome specimen of… whatever you are. If you’ll stay put a moment, I can figure it out. Would you like to know your scientific name?” He set the glass on the table next to him and reached out for the bird encyclopedia.


    The bird was suddenly Chatter, who perched hunched over on the railing like a gargoyle.


    Flip rocked back so far in his rocking chair he almost capsized. “HOLY CROW!”


    The encyclopedia flew backwards out of his hand and hit the wall with a thud.


    Chatter stared moodily off at the sunset. “Distinctly not.”


    Brody came barreling out the back door, fist clenched and pulsing energy. “WHAT!”


    Flip met his gaze with wide eyes. “Sorry if I scared you, dear, it’s just Chatter.”


    Brody eyed Chatter with a scowl, coming to stand next to Flip. “I see. And where’s your master, demon?”


    Flip shuddered when Chatter’s head swiveled a full 180 to stare at Brody, like an owl.


    They smiled, showing all their teeth. “She’s decided to stay in the woods tonight. Alone. Because she’s smarter than all of us.”


    Brody’s scowl deepened. “Weirdens,” he ground out.


    Chatter’s smile widened unnervingly.


    Brody stared out at the woods. Flip knew that look.


    Flip said, “You’re not going out there, brown bear. So don’t even think about it.”


    “Fillian.”


    Flip gestured at the gathering shadows. “It’s too late now. You can’t.”


    Brody grimaced. “I know.”


    Chatter asked, their head still disturbingly turned, “Then why’re you holding that hex?”


    Flip glanced down. It was true. He looked up at Brody’s face searchingly. “Bear?”


    Brody shook off the hex, his shoulders tense, but his face relaxed out of its scowl. “Sorry. I forgot I had it on. It’s just, the banshee, and… she’s so young.”


    Flip said gently, “She’s not Rill, honey.”


    Brody bristled. “Why do people keep saying that to me?”


    Chatter turned back to watch the sunset.


    They said, “If she dies, I’ll turn their intestines into socks,” and clattered their teeth together.


    Flip gave Brody a horrified look behind Chatter’s back. Brody stared at Chatter with narrowed eyes, one hand going to Flip’s shoulder.


    Chatter said, still looking out over the woods, “Don’t worry, I don’t mean your intestines. That would be a waste. They make such lovely sounds as they are.”


    Flip said weakly, “Oh?”


    Chatter hummed and said earnestly, “Yes and especially yours, Master Flip. You have a very healthy ecosystem. I can smell it from here.”


    This was supposed to be reassuring, no doubt.


    Flip was not reassured.


    Then Brody squeezed his shoulder with a little hint of a reassuring smile and it was better. Not great, but better.


    <hr>


    Trish found the nest just before the sun went down. It was an opening in a craggy rock face that was the start of the mountain’s foothills. She supposed it was a cave further down inside, but she didn’t dare intrude. She sniffed deeply. It was odd. It didn’t smell much like an active nest, though it had been recently used. If it was a scout outpost for one of the enclaves rumored to thrive in the deep parts of the wilderness, that would explain it.


    She thought about it as she set up camp for the night about fifty feet from the cave, pulling a sleeping pad and ward stones out of the pack. For a makeshift alarm line, she set two ward stones in front of the mouth of the cave. The rest she set in a ten foot circle around where she’d decided to rest for the first half of the night. Before she laid down, she set out a chalkboard with chalk and a jackalope antler prong next to the pad.


    She pulled out a timer, glanced at her watch, and set it to rouse her fifteen minutes before midnight. She laid face up on her pad with the ward alert and the timer on her stomach. She pulled the strings of the mana matrix for the dampener out of her pocket. Closing her eyes, she drifted into the familiar complexities of spell weaving, flicking her fingers through the cobweb-like strings of its cradle.


    She couldn’t tell how long it had been when one of the stones vibrated. She opened her eyes to teeth above her.


    <hr>


    After some hours of night, Fallen Leaves said, “The wind in the trees howls mightily in the night, but in the time twixt dusk and midnight it slacks. Why pursue the wind before midnight?”


    Moonless, walking ahead through the forest with mouth wide open to better scent the air, said, “Dost thou think the object of our hunt yet holds to the law? Dost think it still seeks salvation in the dark between the stars?”


    Fallen Leaves said, “Thou callst our quarry animal?”


    “By its actions, it has declared itself so. And if there were any question, the evidence is clear here: it moves without mind to sacred times. The proper hunt demands we move so as well. We are fallen behind as it is, damn the committee.”


    Fallen Leaves said, “We already have left behind the bounds of civilization. Must we now leave behind the last vestiges of that which separates us from beast? How are we then separate from that which we pursue?”


    Moonless said, “It is our calling to walk beyond, even to walk in the day if needed, and trust that we might return to that which we are. Absolution shall be granted, apprentice, do not fear that. But if thou dost fear and if thou findst the role of men’tuch doth not suit, thou shouldst end thine education upon conclusion of this hunt.”


    Fallen Leaves said, “I shall meditate on this, Teacher. But I shall not do so until after we have returned. Contemplation holds no place here.”


    Moonless stopped before a tree. “That is well, apprentice. Thou demonstrate great wisdom, for thou art correct. Dost thou have thine wits about thee?”


    Fallen Leaves tasted the air with her long tongue. She shifted uneasily. “Blood and weirdness lies thick on the air. And some strangeness too. A group of creatures, mortal and large, not deer nor wolf nor coyote nor puma nor boar nor bear… What is it?”


    “Humans, apprentice. Look there. Their seasonal passage through the wood.” Moonless gestured to the road.


    Fallen Leaves said, “Most unfortunate that our quarry came here, then. We must work with haste to avoid undue notice.”


    Moonless said, “Tis too late. The old blood is human. The weirdness is demonic.”


    Fallen Leaves swore. “Demons! Teacher, what shall we do?”


    “Demons are bound to a human. Shouldst we remove that human, they shall return whence they came with no further interference in the world. And while I wouldst tell thee not to follow such thoughts down the thorned path, thou art right to be concerned. Come, smell.”


    Moonless motioned Fallen Leaves to follow as she walked further into the forest.


    Fallen Leaves smelled the air. “The demon and a human follow our quarry. It is a recent passage.”


    Moonless said, “We must be wary. Shouldst the humans suspect banshee involvement, they may order the demon to dispose of us on sight.”


    “Then we ought remove the bonded one quickly, and so banish the demon.”


    Moonless said, “If we must.”