“What happened to you?” Erot asks me as he shakes me awake. His eyes are trained on the shattered shed rooftop and the mess inside my stall.


    I wince. The wounds have closed, sure. But I am shirtless, covered in a blanket of hay nettles. My loins are not bloodied thankfully — I went through the effort of washing them last night. My hair is rough though, matted with grime and blood.


    “I met your spirit last night,” I say. A half-truth will suffice well enough.


    Surprisingly, Erot doesn’t seem mad. Its as if he expected this. In fact, he seems a bit amused.


    “What, did you call Umbrahorn a lesser spirit or something?”


    I groan, rubbing my shoulder. “Something along those lines,” I mutter.


    Erot makes some sound halfway between a grunt and a chuckle. “He’s a proud one. Did he hurt you too bad or anything?”


    “A little but I handled it. No need to punish him or anything.”


    “He blackmail you into say that?”


    I chuckle. “No. But it seems like something he’d do.”


    We talk a little more as I help him clean the shed. It’s a cloudy day today and rain quickly begins pattering against the rooftop, flooding into the shed. Erot and I both groan as we watch the stalls get wet and muddy.


    “Horses are staying at the house stables today,” Erot mutters. He nudges his head outside and I follow. He hands me his black overcoat and I thank him for it, for the morning is chilly. We take to the crops near his home, and, with the help of his eldest sons Ferot and Hansel, the work begins. I knew farm work would be difficult. But… the shear breadth of Erot’s land meant that we had to work long hours, going from harvesting crops to weeding out invasive spirit shrooms (Ferot took a sniff of one a while ago apparently and has ever since been collecting them under his bed, according to Hansel) to sowing more seeds. I am particularly bad at the harvesting part — my impatience hinders my progress significantly.


    It is quite the humbling experience.


    Especially when I have to milk the cows and shovel some manure. Erot is all over the farm, riding his palfrey horse up and down its length to oversee his sons working their particular tasks. Even Dandy joins in, helping their shepherd lizard and dog herd the goats and black-wool sheep.


    Near midday, while I watch and learn how Dandy herds the animals, I spot some spirit fish schools dropping down from the sky and trying to nip at crops. Some succeed, for there are many of them. However, the ground rumbles near them and Umbrahorn leaps out of the dirt, snapping his jaws at the fish and catching a great many of them. His presence is a deterrence — he’s the scarecrow.


    It amuses me. Why does he have such an inflated ego? He truly does seem like a lesser spirit, consigned to work a farm. I think on Sorina’s negotiations with the shark spirit the night prior, shaking my head. There’s something more to him that I’m missing.


    Dandy hands me a stick and I throw far for the big old wyvern-lizard and the dog to chase after. She claps her hands and gives me a thumbs up, approving of my throw.


    The rumble of hooves turns my attention downfield, where Erot rides up to us. The sun is already going down. It has been a full day of labor. My muscles are sore and my mind is somewhat numb, but it is not an unpleasant feeling. I quite admire this life, despite how much my own clan might’ve looked down upon it. Besides, what better preparation is there than this? In a month’s time, you can eat your fill, build your strength, and then take on the Boar Ranges. You are not wasting time. You are not wasting time.


    You are wasting time you imbecile.


    Remember how they mounted her head on a pike.


    Leave this, leave this right —


    “Raiten!” Erot says. I snap out of it and look up at him, his hand outstretched to me. I take it and he helps me up onto the back of the horse. Dandy jumps onto his lap and I feel the poor palfrey huff its annoyance. Stolen story; please report.


    “We’re done then?”


    Erot chuckles. “We’re never done. But, for now, we are. Besides, Sorina sent a crow over. Said that you have some meeting with her… something about getting acquainted with the land,” he says, a tint of suspicion leaking through his voice. I ignore it, giving him a nod. “Do you know how to ride?”


    “I used to handle the horses in my clan, but it''s been a while.”


    He nods and steps off the horse with Dandy in his arms, handing me the reins.


    I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure—”


    “You might as well practice now, since you’ll be meeting our beloved mayor back in Takemeadow.”


    I sigh. Right. That’s a ride away.


    “Let’s go then. Bare with me though, I’m rusty.”


    I settle into the saddle and feel the muscles of the palfrey’s fanks with my thighs, hear the horse breathe. Its muscles roll as Dandy and Erot hop on once more. With a deep breath, I take the reins and start the palfrey off with a slow trot.


    It is all too familiar.


    Despite my fifteen years without these animals, controlling them is muscle memory. Back in my childhood, before even Hui was my friend, I was merely a stable boy. Horses were my only friends. Clan Adachi never really respected their horses — they much more preferred the exotic mounts, like spirits and mountain crocodiles. Horses were always ridden without care, driven to their limits by long rides. They were like me — thrown to the side. Alone. Outcasts. I think they used to know that too. When I cleaned their shoes, they nuzzled me with their muzzles and they treated me the best out of the other stable workers.


    This farm palfrey reminds me of those horses. I scratch its neck and set it to a canter, then a gallop, riding the wind down the length of the farm and back to Erot’s home.


    “You’re a natural,” he yells from behind me.


    I smile.


    …


    After dropping Dandy and Erot off, he allows me to ride the palfrey, named Redtail, to the village. Day wanes to night and stars blanket the sky while the clouds move further South. The air smells of meadows and flowers, fragrance and bliss. Then, as I reach the warmly lit village, the smells become those of drinks and roasted meats supplemented with sounds of laughter and music playing, furnaces burning, people talking, living.


    I enter through the walls of the village and, with some annoyance, realize I have no idea where to look for Sorina.


    So, I ride along the dirt road, past the cemetery, the garden, central square, the tavern, a few night stands with street food, some clothing and general goods shops, then the housing sector of the village. Nothing. No sign of the mayor. I ask around, hear various claims. See jealous younger men wonder why I’m so keen on finding her. I ignore them.


    I turn into an alley and set Redtail by a muddied water feeder. With a yawn, I hop off the palfrey and stretch my legs.


    Something rustles above me.


    My hair stands on its ends.


    I dodge forward, rolling away on my shoulder and standing to face a robed enemy — one that had dropped down on my position. Immediately I blitz them, launching off my feet and ducking my head low.


    They throw a flying knee, one that bangs into my chin.


    I fall face first in the dirt and groan before they mount me, fists raised. My chin feels like a bag of gravel now, heavy from the pain. Yet, I have enough energy to bite the thigh of the person who mounts me.


    They yelp. It is a feminine sound.


    I recognize it.


    “Sorina, what in hells are you doing?” I groan. She pulls down her hood and glares at me, breathing like a furious bull.


    “You bit me!”


    “You attacked me!” I shoot back.


    “I was testing you, you idiot,” she says, slapping me lightly across the face. She stands and rubs some dust off her black robes, before nursing the bite mark on her loins.


    I sit up on my elbows and work my jaw.


    “Quite the test,” I mutter. “Attacking me out of nowhere when it was you who sent for me.”


    “I was following you the entire time and you didn’t notice me! High-class clan warriors can move even better than me — they have the grace of felines. How are you going to deal with the great clans if you can’t even notice me?” she says, exasperated. “You are just… a feral dog. I mean, really? Biting me was your first instinct?”


    She is such a frustrating woman. “What did you expect? For me to give up?”


    “For you not to be so— no, you know what? It''s fine. I can work with this,” she reasons, pacing back and forth now. Then, she snatches my wrist. “We can work on your movement and eyesight later — for now, come with me. I’ll teach you how to fight like a proper clan warrior.”


    I sigh. “Whatever you say, young master Sorina.”