《ORION (The Wilds, Book 1)》


 Chapter 1: The Failed Hunt

    The faint rustling of the bushes next to me betrays the location of Khalil. He shouldn''t be making any noise, but he has never been the best at hunting, no matter how hard he tries. Our current problem is that we need to catch a rabbit or a grabbat¨Csomething small¨Cto supplement the terrible choice of bringing only snack food for our trade trip. It was a decision made by the aforementioned friend without input from anyone else. I must remember to double-check work done by anyone who isn''t named Orion when we''re traveling.


    My eyes trail to where the noise is coming from, and a few moments later, Khalil''s head¨Cwith its kind, warm brown eyes¨Cappears, followed by his body. Khalil is slightly taller than I am, with thick, strong shoulders, bronzed skin, and a frame meant for rugged, physically demanding work. Although we''ve been traveling for days, his hair is cropped with clean lines. His ears are only slightly pointed¨Che''s a faerie, technically half-elven. Khalil actually gets a five o''clock shadow, so he''s certainly got a respectable amount of scruff after our few days of travel.


    Khalil crouches next to me before brushing off his arms and chest. Though I don''t want to, I can''t help but stare at him incredulously as the noise-making machine continues. It''s impressive how much racket he''s making while trying to be quiet simultaneously. Finally, I can''t take it anymore; I whisper at him in irritation.


    "Khalil, man."


    I raise my right hand towards my lips and try to give him the universal symbol for "be quiet, you idiot." Of course, he gives back the most innocent and confused look he can muster. I stare at him until he finally relents by holding up both of his hands with palms facing me in a "don''t shoot" gesture. He follows it up with a faint grin, telling me everything I need to know. I smirk, unable to control it, and shake my head. It takes a few moments, but I recenter myself to focus on hunting.


    I''ve known Khalil all my life¨Cunquestionably, he''s my best friend¨Cand that''s not an exaggeration. He was born two days before I was born, and we were raised together in our small village. I can''t remember ever a time when he wasn''t with me, especially for any expedition or lessons taught by others in our village. He''s been my constant companion, and I know without speaking that his loyalty to me¨Cand mine to him¨Cis unwavering. We might as well be brothers.


    I slowly start to move again, waving ever so slightly with my right hand at Khalil, gesturing for him to follow behind me where I step and at my pace. After his purposeful noise-making session, he''s settled down to be serious. We''re far enough from the road now to get lost easily, and getting lost anywhere in the Wilds is a recipe for never getting found.


    After a short bit of walking through the grasping, thick underbrush along this stretch of our trading run, I suddenly halt, my eyes focusing on faint movement through some squat shrubbery a few yards out in front of us. Carefully, I pull my necklace up from underneath my old human metal band''s city tour t-shirt and pull out a small, bamboo-like reed pipe attached to a leather necklace cord. Already loaded with a hunter''s dart, I carefully pull the blowgun off the cord and re-tuck the necklace underneath my worn shirt so it doesn''t get in the way.


    Though Khalil doesn''t see what has caused us to stop, he knows that I can, so he comes to a stop a few paces behind me to give me plenty of space. We might be close like brothers, but we are much better at certain things than the other. He''s stronger than me, without question, but I can move through the thickest underbrush with barely a sound, like a wiretail. I don''t bother to peek back at Khalil; instead, I patiently keep my eyes ahead.


    My vigilance is rewarded when a small gray and brown four-legged creature creeps from underneath a hedge into some of the spotty sunlight making it through the darkness of the thick canopy. The critter is facing me, giving me its measure. It''s an adult grabbat, thankfully. Similar to an oversized squirrel in the human divide, the beast is about the same size as a rabbit but has two saucer-like eyes, a squirrel-like tail, raccoon-like claws, and a thick, squat body meant for rapidly climbing trees. I don''t move too quickly because I don''t want to startle it. The last time we startled a grabbat¨Cwell, Khalil startled a grabbat¨Cwe had to deal with the stink of its defensive odor for a full-on week.


    The grabbat stops and twitches nervously, causing me to tense, but it continues foraging a few moments later. I relax back to my normal focused state and slowly raise my reed blowgun, careful not to accidentally hit any shrubbery in front of me. I inhale and then exhale, calming my breathing and hands before raising the weapon to my lips and taking aim. As I inhale deeply to get enough air to fire my dart, a sudden and monstrously loud cracking of underbrush startles everyone: the grabbat, me, and Khalil alike.


    The grabbat screeches in alarm, releases its odor spray, and takes off to the nearest tree for safety. Khalil behind me scrambles backward on hands and knees without thought to stealth. I don''t have time to place my blowgun away, but Khalil has the right idea. I turn and immediately clamber after him on all fours¨CI don''t want to stand and run since we don''t know what colossal thing made the noise, and I''d rather not be at full height right to start. From experience, dealing with unknown loud noises in the Wilds is generally best served by getting the hell out of there. We scramble madly for about ten seconds before I stand up and grab Khalil''s shoulder to convince him to get up.


    "We gotta run now." I emphatically press.


    Khalil doesn''t argue in the slightest, and once he''s to his feet, we dash madly in the direction from which we entered the looming forest. We''re old enough to be used as go-betweens between our village of Wilder, other small encampments, and sometimes the more significant tribes. Because of the constant travel, both of us are used to physical activity. Khalil runs next to me, trying to get my attention verbally.


    "Ori!"


    Of course I heard him, but I chose not to respond immediately. Instead, I look behind us while sprinting through the underbrush, trying to see if we''re in immediate danger while avoiding thistles, thorns, and other forest blockades.


    "Orion!" Khalil more insistently raises his voice.


    "What?" I mutter, finally acknowledging him.


    My response seems to be a signal to slow down to Khalil, though I have no desire to do so just yet. Despite that, I slow down to match his pace as we go from running to jogging and then finally to walking together. Khalil looks behind us and then back before his lips split in a grin, and he starts laughing. His laugh is infectious, and I snicker a little despite myself.


    "That was actually kind of hilarious; scared the shit out of me, dude."


    "Yeah, same. It was something big, but I didn''t get a look."


    "Maybe it was a big branch falling or something."


    I shake my head, not agreeing with Khalil''s assessment of the disturbance. Pulling my necklace cord up from underneath my old human-printed shirt, I affix my reed blowgun to where it was before the failed hunt. Once done, I take it off my neck and wrap it back into its place on my belt, where I usually keep it unless I am actively hunting.


    "Now," I sigh, "we have to eat another night of junk."


    "It''s whatever, Ori." Khalil shrugs in his carefree sort of way. "We''re almost at the village anyway. We can get a good meal when we get there."


    I look left and right, trying to mentally place our location even though almost everything looks the same. I nudge Khalil with an elbow, not knocking him off balance, but hard enough that he has to take a step to the side to rebalance himself.


    "What?!" He protests loudly, and I shake my head in response.


    "Khalil, man, we''re going there to trade, not to waste our shit on food. I''m pretty sure we won''t have access to any nearby seam for another couple of weeks, and these guys are the only ones around with gasoline stored from the human divide. So yeah, we shouldn''t waste any of our village''s stuff, alright?"


    Khalil mumbles something inaudible but seemingly agrees with me, so I keep talking.


    "We can just find some berries or something on the way. Just something fresh and not those damned flaming hot cheese puffs." I say as if I didn''t hear him muttering to himself.


    It''s not that I don''t like his choice of junk food¨Cit''s incredible, actually. It just gets tiresome when you''ve had almost three whole days of nothing but junk food. It could be worse, of course; at least we''re not starving, though some people might debate that, given our "choice" of foodstuff for this trip.


    After another half hour or so of walking, we could see the clearing where we left our two partners behind with the supplies and trade items. I relax my muscles finally and lead Khalil out of the forest onto the rough gravel and dirt of the traveler''s path. A small fire is going on the side of the road behind our covered trade wagon, and I see Lani tossing a few logs onto it with her back turned to us.


    Lani is slender with dusky skin and dark hair. To human eyes, she would look too slim, like she had health issues. She''s like Khalil and I, one of the Wilder elves. Elf-kin can come in all shapes; most Faeries are notably not particularly finicky in partners unless pedigree and station mean something to them. Lani is half-elf, like Khalil, and takes after her wispy air pixie half in appearance, just without the wings. I look around, not seeing our fourth, but continue walking over to Lani. I run a hand over the side of my face and one of my pointed ears before announcing to the air.


    "Hey, we''re back."


    Lani turns to look at us, then openly denotes we have nothing in our hands and groans for about two seconds.


    "I know, I know. Something startled the first thing I saw, and it was big, whatever it was, so we just ''nope''d out'' of there. Wasn''t worth finding out whatever it was. Where''s Aria?"


    Lani drops the rest of the logs and small sticks next to the small fire and brushes her hands off in front of herself.


    "She''s sleeping, of course. What else would she be doing during the day?" That isn''t surprising since she''s our trading wagon''s night guard. Lani continues with her train of thought, mostly just her complaining at us¨Cadmittedly, rightfully so. "So, another day of the great crap food that Khalil packed for us, huh?"


    Khalil starts to protest, which undoubtedly will be a protest about how flaming hot cheese puffs are superior to everything in our lands since we hear his spiel about once a week. However, before he can rev himself up to get going, snapping branches, shrubbery limbs, and twigs loudly announce from the forest that we aren''t alone. Instinctively, I reach down to my side and draw out my small whittling knife while Lani positions herself behind us and next to the back of our covered cart. Khalil, meanwhile, stands with his hands at his sides.


    The noise draws closer, and the three of us tense in anticipation. Generally speaking, for travelers and traders like us, it''s an excellent plan to assume anything that comes out of the forests of the Wilds unexpectedly will not be safe to deal with. It''s a kind of "hope for the best, prepare for the worst" sort of thing.


    A low, throaty growl, full of bass, starts from the undergrowth. Fuck. Immediately, I take a step back, intimidated; a shock of fear crawls up my spine because I know what that growl belongs to. The inhalation of air behind me tells me that both Lani and Khalil recognize it, too. Immediately, Lani slaps her hand on the back of the cart insistently and half-yells in a scared voice.


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    "ARIA, wake up. We need you now, bad. WAKE UP!"


    She smacks the back of the cart''s door a few more times while Khalil and I stare at the underbrush and wait for the bad news. Unfortunately, that bad news does come. A set of bowling-ball-sized paws tipped by curled claws press forward out of the forest''s oppressive and obfuscating undergrowth and stretch out to move aside the shrubbery. Once the vegetation cracks and bends back, the beast''s full shape reveals itself: a stocky bull-like chest stands above thick, muscular legs. A thick, long neck leads to something of a half-mane encircled head. The head of the beast that emerges is feline in shape and nature, colored black and sandy brown with perfect mottling to hunt in the dark, oppressive forests of the Wilds. The appearance of its snout and face is a mix between puma and lion.


    The beast''s ears twist and twitch in our direction, with lynx-like thick tufts of charcoal-colored fur at the tips that sway slightly with each movement. It''s enormous¨Ca full-sized and healthy adult¨Cwith its size suggesting a male. The powerful, muscled shoulders of his front two legs easily stand at my shoulder''s height. As the great cat fully exposes himself from the forest, I see the long horizontal stripes along his side rising to his spine and join along the thick, bristling tail for which his kind is known.


    "A wiretail¡­" Lani whispers in distress. She slaps the back of the cart once more, but not as loudly as if she were afraid to encourage the beast to attack by making more noise. "Aria, wake up. There''s a wiretail and we need you. For fuck''s sake, get up."


    The wiretail watches us, having yet to move further. He''s no longer moving his body, save for his fur-tufted ears, burnt-orange and gold-colored eyes, and tail. His long tail slowly moves behind his body so we can see the foot-long quills littered through the wiretail''s thick tail fur, slowly trembling and bristling in what I believe to be anticipation. With some degree of horror, I believe that he''s been hunting us this whole time.


    "He''s going to attack us; he''s just trying to decide which way to start. Get ready." I stage-whisper to Khalil, wishing I''d had a chance to get to my bow inside of the trader wagon.


    The cart behind us makes a creaking noise, and the door next to Lani opens with a groan. I hear Lani breathe a sigh of relief, though I''m unsure why, as the danger hasn''t passed.


    "Why are we picking fights with wiretails in the daytime?" The voice that speaks belongs to Aria, but it''s much like a low, whispered hiss from some monstrous reptile because she''s shapeshifted.


    Her grousing doesn''t gain a response since the rest of us are terrified. It''s the first time any of us¨Cexcept probably Aria¨Chave seen a feral wiretail. The cart groans and protests as Aria jumps down from the back of the cart, and I hear the thud of her shapeshifted weight firmly hitting the ground. Right now, I am thrilled that our village always sends a night guard with every trader group. I slowly take my eyes away from the wiretail, which still hasn''t moved from the same spot. Were I not actually petrified and incapable of rational thought, I would have noted it as odd behavior from a stalking predator. My gaze settles on the noise of Aria appearing behind us. I step slightly away from Khalil and move to let Aria pass. Aria is not even partially elven-kin like Khalil, Lani, and myself. She is pure violence when she wants to be, and all of her kind are. Some humans have called them redcaps in their old stories.


    When Aria stretches out from within the wagon, she''s not the attractive woman we usually see. Her skin is unnaturally charred and blackened, stretched, and mottled, and her body has thickened into twice its normal girth and size. Her fingers are nearly as long as her forearms, skeletal thin, and tipped with dagger-like talons. Her eyes are no longer like an average person''s but are red baseball-sized orbs on a hideously bony, ridged face. Her lips aren''t present, instead, she shows long needle-like teeth in rows like a shark that stretches from cheek to cheek. She''s truly the stuff of nightmares¨Cbut she''s on our side, and that''s what matters.


    Aria lumbers out between Khalil and me, passing by us with the confidence of an insane person. She raises her thickened arms to her sides and splays her fingers as far as possible to make herself appear even bigger. The wiretail slightly lowers his front shoulders, but it''s hard to tell if he''s intimidated or just unsure as to what the hell he is looking at. Aria unleashes a howl of nightmares: a screech of pure terror that would likely send anyone running the opposite way if heard in the dark. I reflexively step back towards our cart and Lani despite knowing where the roar came from. The screeching howl lasts longer than my mind believes it should, but it finally tapers off as Aria stops at the edge of the traveler''s path near where the wiretail has lowered his stance.


    The gigantic cat-beast flattens his ears and bears his oversized canines before hissing and snarling; for a moment, he looks like he might attack the hulked-out Aria anyway. As if reading the reaction and intentions of the beast, Aria snarls a second time. Finally, the wiretail moves one of his massive paws backward before another, and another follows at the start of a retreat. Only when the wiretail turns can I see a symbol branded into the fur of his light sandy-brown haunches: a circular stamp of a silhouetted head from a snarling wiretail.


    That brand is one of the symbols of the Blackham, a strong tribe in the Wilds with their own city. They''re known to capture and occasionally breed wiretails and, because of it, have become extremely wealthy with power to match. I have no clue if they have wiretails that escape regularly or not, but it''s still unfathomably rare to encounter any wiretails in the Wilds unless you''re purposefully tracking for them.


    Aria snarls for a third time, stamps her feet with force, and bellows again with that horrible wailing roar that promises death and despair to all who hear it. Deciding against what I assume was his planned dinner now that it''s become too complicated, the wiretail finally turns and runs back into the underbrush and thick forest. The snapping and crunching of his fleeing through the forest proper slowly fades away as he moves further and further away. Lani, Khalil, and I exhale simultaneously, the immediate tension and adrenaline slowly ebbing from our bodies.


    Aria stands at the side of the path for another minute before her body starts to crackle and snap. It sounds like it would be terribly painful, but as far as I know, it isn''t. Her body withdraws on itself, the shapeshifted form disappearing to reveal Aria as she is typically: a graceful woman with skin the shimmery color of the pale moonlight and dark almond eyes, with black hair tied back in one long braid and wearing a basic black t-shirt and jeans. Her shadowed eyes give her some kind of a mysterious, gothic allure. She turns to look at the rest of us and then pointedly at me.


    "Were you successful on your hunt?" She already knows the answer but will grouse about it, apparently.


    "No," I exhale and respond. "I was about to get a grabbat, but I''m pretty sure that fucking cat was what scared it off before I could." Sitting down on a wood-cutting stump, I run a hand over my face again to wipe off beads of leftover anxious sweat.


    A soft grumble from Aria''s direction bubbles up, but she doesn''t say anything directly. Because she shapeshifted, she will have to eat many of our rations tonight and knows they''re all junk food.


    "I can head back out in a little while and see if I can catch anything close." I offer, somewhat unhelpfully. Aria shakes her head, breaking contact with the rest of us with a simple mutter.


    "No, too soon. I will be fine. Going back to sleep now."


    Typically, Aria''s a little more friendly and somewhat more articulate. However, being woken up from her rest period, having to shapeshift for potential violence, and then, afterward, having no raw meat to consume is a recipe for her kind of fey to be quite cranky.


    "Wake me up if it comes back." She grumbles at Lani as she returns to our trade cart''s rear. Lani nods a few times¨Cclearly still stressed by the whole encounter¨Cbefore closing the door to the wagon gently after Aria. Khalil finally moves and sits beside the low-burning fire.


    "Holy shit, that was intense. I''ve never seen one of those in the wild." Khalil knows me and Lani haven''t either since we almost always travel together. I rub the back of my neck, trying to relax even though I know it''s a lost cause.


    "I mean, yeah, none of us have. But¨CDid you see the mark on him? He was branded, so I could tell he was supposed to be one of the Blackham''s wiretails. I wonder why he''s running free around here? As far as I know, they don''t have any official settlements this way."


    Lani joins us at the fire after digging out a couple of small bags of the human junk food Khalil packed for us. She tosses one to Khalil and one to me before sitting at the fire and opening herself one. She munches for a few moments before responding to my observations.


    "I mean, maybe something bad happened to his rider on a trading mission, and he''s just been running wild since? Or maybe not, I don''t know. Like, this area has always been fairly safe whenever we come through here to trade."


    "What''s safe out here, though? I mean, you just never know; that''s why we got someone like Aria, you know? I don''t know, you said it yourself: maybe he''s been running wild. They can move far when they want; what stops them from going into an area normally considered relatively safe?" I answer, shrugging before opening the plastic wrapping of the processed puffed junk food.


    I pop a couple of the neon orange crunch snacks into my mouth and chew loudly now that the drama seems to have passed. My eyes trail up towards our sky; its gray and thick clouds threatening rain obscure the sun from direct view. The Wilds'' night creatures enjoy days like this since it allows them to come out freely without discomfort. Unlike the human divide, our "sun" won''t hurt them; they will only be uncomfortable while they''re in its direct view. In general, it''s pretty agreed that days like this make traveling for Wilder like us a bit more dangerous. It''s really only bad luck that we ultimately ran across a feral wiretail.


    For obvious reasons, I am more alert than usual. While we munch our snacks silently, I judge how much time we''ll need to continue to our destination. It isn''t long. We have a river to cross and half a day''s walk from there, so by this time tomorrow¨Cbarring any more incidents¨Cwe should reach the village. I look at the other two, who are already done with the packages Lani split between them.


    "We should get moving. I don''t want to cross the river today since it''ll be too close to nighttime, but we can at least find a good flat spot to give Aria a nice view for her night guarding. Besides, I don''t want to chill here any longer."


    Khalil nods and crushes up the plastic wrap in his hand before standing up. He hands it over to Lani when she sticks out her hand. I finish off my flaming hot cheese puffs, take a drink from the small water bottle tied to my belt, and then hand over my bag to Lani as well. She rubs the three empty plastic packages together while murmuring. A few moments later, the packages shrivel before disintegrating into ash in her hands. She leans over and drops the ash into the fire before brushing off her hands on her pants.


    Lani isn''t the same as Khalil or me, either. She can manifest elements, and with some degree of effort, she can change one thing to a very basic other¨Clike plastic bags to paper bags. She''s still considered young, like Khalil and I, so it''s a bit of an effort for her to do any of it. Once again, I rub my hand over my face to wipe away a few beads of sweat and smooth back my pulled-back and braided hair.


    I push both hands down on the knees of my old jeans and stand from the wood-cutting stump. Once the fire is put out and the obvious clues to our brief stop are cleared away, Khalil walks to the back of the trader wagon, quietly opens the rear door, and pulls out what appears to be a smaller door frame. It''s about the height of a baseball bat, with a proportional width for a door of that size with two simple feet to keep it standing on its own.


    "Be right back."


    Khalil stands the door next to the cart and then opens the pint-sized door. He crouches next to it before sticking one of his hands through the shimmering blue haze previously hidden by the door''s earlier closed state. The haze draws Khalil inside and out of our view painlessly. A few minutes pass before Khalil returns, holding the reins of two mules. They bray with irritation but follow after Khalil, who leads them to the front of the cart and sets them up in their rigging.


    The door isn''t ours to own¨Cit''s technically our village''s property¨Cbut trading groups sometimes get to use it so the more difficult-to-replace livestock are protected from assaults. Generally, they lead to a room or small stable where the animals can be fed, watered, and left to rest in peace while the rest of us do what we need to. I don''t know exactly where they come from; Hannah and Jorge¨Cthe first of our village¨Care the ones who gifted a couple to our village as communal property, so they may know. I''ve just never cared enough to ask.


    One of the donkeys kicks backward, and its hoof clangs off one of the metal joints holding the wagon''s rigging to the mules next to where Lani is standing. Khalil immediately raises his tone to tell the mule to stop, but the guilty donkey repeatedly brays in apparent irritation. Khalil can communicate with animals, which is his job on trade runs, so before long, the pair of mules move our wagon again on the traveler''s path. Lani elects to walk alongside the cart with Khalil, and I take the chance to sit in front and hold the reins while the donkey pair moves us forward. Before too long, lulled by the swaying of the wagon and the faint rumbling of its wheels over the gravel of the traveler''s path, my mind drifts back to the wiretail and the Blackham branding on his back haunches.


    Why was he way out here? Their city is easily a week''s travel from where we were, maybe more. Blackham tribe members rarely come out this far, let alone deal with Wilder like from our village. They don''t need to hunt anywhere near here either, with all the territory they claim. Wiretails do indeed cover lots of territory in the wild, but even still, coming way out here is a lot of territory to have roamed. I mull over the thoughts in silence for a while longer before finally resting the matter in my mind as something I won''t be able to puzzle out based on my limited information.


    As a nice flat area appears ahead, I realize this is the regular stopping point before the river (or after, depending on which way you travel). The path doesn''t look like it has shifted or changed since the last time we came through, as it sometimes inconveniently does, so I get Khalil''s attention with a little whistle before jumping off the cart. He takes over for me, moving the mules and the wagon over to where we''ll spend the night. The three of us spend some time clearing back some of the vines and underbrush that has crept out onto the stopping point.


    Thankfully, the rest of the evening is peaceful. Aria comes out of the wagon a short while after we''ve set up the camp for the night and proceeds to eat her share of the food without complaint, plus a bit more. None of us complain about her extra rations; she likely saved our lives with her transformation, and we don''t even have fresh meat for her to consume to make up for it. I watch Aria as she sorts out her plan for the camp''s patrol, and I can''t help but sigh guiltily. It''s literally my job in the group to supplement our food on any travels. I hate feeling like I''ve failed anyone in our group. I''ll have to do better.

 Chapter 2: The Village

    As the crisp night begins to lighten into the day, my eyes creep open. Khalil is still snoring on his bedroll, and Lani is still curled on her side on top of hers. I slowly push off the cover of my sleeping roll and coil it carefully, not disturbing the others. One of the benefits to the magical aspect of trader caravans¨Cand what drives their high trade cost to obtain¨Cis that there is strangely more space on the inside than out. But even still, ours is quite laden with the trade we''ve brought from our village. I tuck my bedroll on top of a small stack of tied-down books before moving out of the cart and into the chilly morning air outside.


    Gazing about with slightly bleary eyes, I don''t see Aria immediately, but I''m unconcerned, as she''s still likely walking a campsite patrol. We let the fire burn down before sleeping, and it doesn''t appear that another has been lit since. Again, not a surprise. Generally, a small fire in the middle of the night in the Wilds is asking for trouble. It is better to travel and not draw attention to yourself, especially when the nights get darker as a new moon draws closer.


    I glance up at the well-represented moon while it''s still present for the time being. I feel no draw to the moon''s call. If anything, its weight still fills my limbs with a sort of lethargy. Lots of our kind¨Clike Aria¨Care perfectly at home in the dark, and some are even considered stronger during the night. As a hunter and trader, I''m no stranger to night''s gloom, but the rising sun''s warm tendrils fill me with much more potency and life. That''s just how it works for the fey. You''re born to the sun or the moon, and their energies dictate your life.


    Shaking off my meandering thoughts, I nudge some cold embers around in the burned-out fire, and then once sorted, I use some of the leftover logs to start one anew. Though we don''t have any fresh meat or vegetables¨Cwhich still feels like a failure on my part¨Cwe do have plenty of water, dried berries, and leaves for teas. While putting water from our dwindling supply out to boil on the fire, I see the silhouette of Aria heading towards me along the traveler''s path.


    "Hey you, was everything all good last night?" I murmur in greeting to her when she gets close enough.


    Her eyes are darker than yesterday during-the-daytime''s wiretail incident¨Calmost wholly black, like a shark''s¨Cbut she''s still beautiful. I know she''s slowly coming down in energy as the moon wanes for the day, but you can''t yet tell it from her eyes. I offer her a hopeful smile, which she doesn''t return. As it stands, I can''t remember if I''ve ever seen her actually fully smile, but she does sit by me and playfully ruffles my hair with a minuscule smirk before speaking.


    "Everything was fine. I sometimes walked down to the river, and the path did not look changed as far as I could see. It was strangely quiet."


    I don''t mind the ruffling of my braided hair; it warms my cheeks a little. I lean forward¨Ctrying to hide my slight blush¨Cand poke at the fire to get it more air.


    "Uhhh¡­ That''s good. Do you think we should go straight to the village, or do you want me to see if I can catch something before we get going this morning?" I don''t know how to apologize to Aria for not having fresh meat on hand, so I figure this is the next best thing.


    She yawns, her teeth perfectly straight and looking completely normal¨Cunlike the wide maw she displayed during the terrifying wiretail encounter the day before. After stretching her arms to each side and popping her joints, she huffs a bit of air before responding.


    "We should just go to the village. I will visit their butcher when we get there; I know his brother from a¨C" she pauses for a long moment before continuing in her stilted manner, "¨Cfrom a different time. He will give me a good deal."


    The guilty pressure eases just a bit on me, and I nod in response. With the water boiling, I pick up a little leather bag before scooping out some dried berries and leaves and dropping them into the water. I use a metal spoon to swirl the herbal mix a few times before looking back at Aria. As the sun has continued to brighten the sky¨Ceven over just the last few minutes¨CI can see her growing ever more tired. Her eyes aren''t as glossy black, and her deepening facial features suggest exhaustion. I offer up a small snack pack from our pathetic food stores, but immediately, she grimaces and waves it away with a hand.


    "No. I ate too many of those before. The smell alone might make me sick."


    "Yeah¡­ that''s my bad. Last time I ever let Khalil pack our food stores without supervision." I laugh softly.


    I know she''s not being serious about getting sick from eating. I''m pretty sure her kind could tear through and eat metal if they were to get mad enough. I glance back in her direction once again, and she returns my look in silence for a few long moments. Just when I think it will be a personable, quiet moment between us, she speaks again.


    "You are a good elf-kin. Your friends are lucky to have you worry after them." She doesn''t clarify or extrapolate at all and instead stands up with another yawn before adding, "I am going to sleep now."


    "Sleep good." I manage to murmur¨Cmy cheeks burning again¨Cas she turns to leave. I wonder if she hears me before disappearing into the wagon where Lani and Khalil are still sleeping. Moments later¨Cand it''s truly only a few¨CKhalil and Lani stagger out of the back of the cart, looking disheveled and half awake. Khalil hits the ground with both of his feet and immediately starts complaining.


    "Ugh, she just dragged us both to the door and kicked us out; I was having an awesome dream!"


    Lani is busily blinking away the sleep from her delicate half-elf, half-pixie features and doesn''t say anything. I smirked at the two of them from where I was still sitting.


    "Come on, I got the morning water boiling; get a couple of cups and sit down."


    Khalil stretches his arms out before rubbing them while mumbling something about it being cold. After getting some feeling into his arms, Khalil collects three cups from the side of the cart. He hands one to each of us in turn as he approaches the fire.


    "Right. Morning Ori, Lani."


    I nod at him and Lani before leaning forward and carefully tilting the metal pot with a stick to pour each cup of the herbal mixture.


    "Thanks¡­ any trouble last night?" Lani murmurs while I pour her cup. In response, I shake my head and slowly blow over the top of my steaming drink.


    "Aria said it was all quiet. She walked down to the river crossing and said the traveler''s path is still the same and hasn''t changed, so we should be good." After a few moments, I added, "I was going to go and see if I couldn''t hunt up a rabbit or two this morning for her, but she said not to bother. She said she''d get something from the butcher in the village when we get there, something about knowing his cousin, brother, or someone. I don''t remember exactly, but yeah, she said we should just keep going and get to the village early on in the daytime."


    While sipping his drink, Khalil "mmhmm''s" at me, which is his version of agreement. Lani also nods, so she has no complaints about the plan for the day. She carefully takes a drink from her hot herbal tea and then looks at our food pack. Lani scoops out a couple of bags of processed cheese snacks, sighs, and then tosses a pair at Khalil and me. Khalil protests half-heartedly, but that''s pretty much it. We each munch down a couple of small bags along with our tea.


    "Breakfast of champions," I mumble, then smirk, more to myself than to Lani and Khalil.


    After a few more jokes and a little goofing off, the three of us tidy up the campsite. Since it''s currently a "regular" stopping spot on the traveler''s path, we leave out the cut tree stumps we used as seating and the circle of thick stones we used to keep the fire contained. It''s a polite way to help out the next group who might travel the same way before the road moves, and since it''s a regular stopping point, it doesn''t endanger us to leave some marks of our passing behind.


    Before too long, Khalil had the mules leading the cart like the other days of our journey, and we were on our way towards the river. Lani takes up the seat on the front of the cart and holds the reins of the two donkeys, both complaining a little more than usual. Khalil and I follow along a few paces behind the cart. It''s an excellent way to keep an eye on our general surroundings without the expenditure of energy that acting like a fully alert patrol winds up using.


    The morning air has warmed considerably, and the sounds of the awakened forest drift to us on either side. Occasionally, I can hear the soft voices of faint but beautiful, distant singing drifting out from deep in the Wilds. Though I know it could be¨Cand probably is¨Ca dangerous lure, I softly hum along with the song. It''s an old song about a mother and daughter foraging together¨Ca song to sing while you work. It makes me smile in any event. Some say elven-kin can''t help but enjoy a good song, and I believe it might be true. I glance to the side at Khalil, who doesn''t appear moved by the faint notes of the song, so maybe it''s just me. I suspect that the singers are probably marmennlar¨Chumans would call them mer-people, mermen, and mermaids¨Cbut they could also just be other elves that live around water. They could also be voices from not-elves, too. Either way, the voices are far away, and we''re not looking to explore or bother others in the Wilds.


    Thankfully, before much longer, we find ourselves approaching the water feature we all hoped to see: the river. It has a name¨CI''ve heard someone say it before¨Cbut I can''t remember it off the top of my head. I jog ahead of everyone after waving for Lani to stop the mules. Khalil gets the small feed bag for the mules¨Cwhile our trader cart is stopped¨Cto offer to the two beasts of burden while they temporarily rest. As I reach the banks of the river a few minutes later, I check to see if the crossing will be fine by walking across it and then back. The river is barely more than a trickle at this point¨Cwith a depth only up to my ankle¨Cso it shouldn''t be a problem for the mules and cart to follow the road and ford the river.


    I whistle loudly back towards the cart, then wave my hands above my head so I can be adequately seen. It only takes Lani and Khalil a minute or two before the mules and cart head in my direction. As the cart draws nearer to the running water, the donkeys both start braying and complaining. I look at Khalil questioningly, and he jogs to the front to take their reins in his hand. He starts guiding them ahead and into the water just ahead of the cart. Initially, I thought they didn''t want to get wet, but as it turns out, they move into the water with no trouble at all¨Calmost as though they want to get away from the side of the crossing we''re coming from.


    The further across the river we go, the less they complain, and by the time we get to the other side of the river, their noisy braying has all but ended. Khalil shrugs at me as we get to the other side.


    "Not sure what that was about."


    "What do you mean? I thought you could talk to them." I tilt my head questioningly.


    Khalil reaches down to the small water bottle on the side of his belt and unhooks it. As we both walk over to the river¨Cwithout Lani, I note¨Che crouches down at the bank side and dips his water bottle in the cool running water to fill it. While we''re both there, he finally responds.


    "I don''t know, dude, it was weird. They kept more or less saying there was danger, but they couldn''t place where it was or what it was. I didn''t want to make Lani worry, so I didn''t say anything."


    I, too, use the river to fill up my bottle and dip my hands in the cool water to splash my face.


    "That is weird."


    I use my old t-shirt''s sleeve to wipe off the water droplets from my eyebrows before standing back up. I look back across the shallow river crossing in the direction we''d just forded the river from. I concentrate¨Ceffort and control focusing my senses¨Cand take on the aspect of a hunting hawk''s eyesight. As I slowly search the surroundings with my sharpened vision, the oddity that I notice, with some degree of consternation, is that there are no fish, birds, or any wildlife. The steady noise of the flowing river originally covered it up, but now that I''m actively paying attention, I understand precisely why the two mules were nervous. I close my eyes to effortlessly allow my powers to ebb away, and when I open them again, I turn to look at Khalil.


    "Man, something is wrong here. There''s nothing¨Cno birds and no fish, just us. I think we need to get a move on."


    He nods, and we both casually jog back towards the cart, with Lani still sitting in the front seat. Lani looks cheerful, so I don''t break the news of the weirdness to her. She looks down at both of us from her elevated seat.


    "Everything all good?"


    We both shrug at the same time, but it''s Khalil who responds.


    "Ehh. We should head to the village; we can get there by lunch like Ori said, unless something changes."


    Lani shifts her gaze at me, silently asking if there is anything I want to add. I don''t, so I keep quiet. With nothing to stop us, we start moving our trading cart forward behind the two donkeys. I glance back at the river once, but still seeing nothing, I shake the concern away as best I can and continue moving forward.


    We make good timing, much faster than the half of a day I expected for travel. Only a couple hours later, on the traveler''s path, we can see the walls and makings of a Wilder settlement in the distance. I relaxed, happy we''d made it, and allowed a smile to cross my face.


    "There it is. Alright, alright."


    Lani gives a little cheer, and Khalil laughs good-naturedly.


    "Ori, I don''t know about you and Lani, but I am absolutely going to pig out on some eggs and meat."


    I shake my head with amusement as we continue walking along the path toward the nearing village.


    "I knew it. You realized two days in that you were an idiot about our food, didn''t you!"


    Khalil laughs again and fake protests with his response.


    "No¨CNo way dude! Okay, maybe I just didn''t want to give you the satisfaction of admitting it. I did screw that up pretty badly. I won''t do that again, I swear!"


    I smirked, unable to hide my amusement at the situation now that it felt like we were drawing closer to safety and rest.


    "Yeah, you''re damn right you won''t, I''m never letting you pack for us again! You handle the animal stuff, and that''s it!"


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Khalil and I joke back and forth for a while longer, neither of us realizing that the cart has gradually slowed down, at least not until Lani draws back the reins and stops it completely.


    "Orion."


    My full name being used in a serious tone almost instantly changes my attention from jovial to serious. Khalil takes the cue from me, and we both instantly become more alert to our surroundings. I gaze over at Lani, questioning, but when I see that she''s just staring straight ahead, I follow her gaze towards the village proper.


    Nothing looks out of place, though there''s no burning smoke or anything suggesting activities being done. Another problem I soon realize is that there''s absolutely no movement inside or out. No one is out doing regular work, no one gardening the small crop fields, no one walking a horse or mules, no reafans complaining, no dogs chasing weans. There''s absolutely nothing save for pure silence. I''ve just now understood the phrase ''the silence was deafening.'' I could hear my heartbeat pulsing in my ears as my face grew hot from the adrenaline suddenly rushing through my body.


    "Khalil, store the mules." I manage to force in a whisper.


    He delays a moment, but a second insistent usage of his name gets him going. I walk over to the back of the cart while Khalil sorts it, and I open the back of the cart just slightly.


    "Aria, we''re here at the village, and something is wrong. Probably going to need you, but don''t go into scary mode yet. We don''t know what''s going on."


    A grunt from inside tells me Aria heard me, so I close the cart door and step away.


    I see the tiny door resting against the side of the cart. Since there are no mules attached to the cart out front, it stands to reason that Khalil has moved the donkeys to the safety the door provides. I jump up on the side of the cart, making myself even with Lani.


    "See anything?" I inquire. She shakes her head immediately.


    "No, I haven''t seen anything at all from here. We should have brought a reafan with us; you could have checked out the area overhead."


    "They wouldn''t have let us bring one. I mean, we already borrowed two of the donkeys instead of one, a pocket door, and a pocket bag, and we brought Aria with us. Anything more would have been pressing our luck big-time."


    Speaking of Aria, I gaze back towards the rear of the cart when I hear the door creak open to let her out. She''s still normal¨Cher version of normal, anyway¨Cbut she does have my bow slung over her shoulder. I didn''t know she knew how to use one, though it wouldn''t surprise me if she did. She moves up to Lani and me as if reading my mind before tossing the bow directly at my head. I catch it instinctively, and then she slaps a small quiver into my stomach. Aria gives me a cross look.


    "Orion, if something is ''weird,'' you must arm yourself just in case. I should not have to tell you this."


    Aria doesn''t give me a chance to respond, and Khalil appears next to the pint-sized pocket door.


    "Hey, they''re set up now. Any idea¨Coh, hey Aria¨Cer, any idea what''s going on yet?"


    "Do not know yet. Just got out here." Aria grunts in response to Khalil.


    With the bow Aria threw at me in hand, I slide the strap of the small quiver over my shoulder and across my chest, then pull myself on top of the cart to get an even higher vantage point.


    "Going to eagle eye and see what I see."


    I tell them not to have a disco rave party and not to light any fires or anything else while I concentrate on my powers. Any sudden flash of light can temporarily blind me if I''m using my vision, just like loud noises will temporarily deafen me if I''m using my heightened hearing. So on and so forth.


    I close my eyes and concentrate. When I open them back up, I focus on the village in its entirety. I can vividly see across the settlement in full color. Nothing is moving inside, no animals, no Wilder locals; all that I see is clues of sudden abandonment. I spy some rotting food sitting on some plates outside at the gathering alehouse, which tells me that whatever happened must have been sudden. After my survey, I murmur to the others to give them a heads-up.


    "Nothing and no one inside. I see rotten food by the inn but no chairs overturned or signs of a fight."


    "Okay. Get down. We will go look together." Responds Aria.


    I close my eyes, which makes it easier to withdraw my ability of senses. Once my eyesight has returned to normal, I hop off the cart next to Aria, Khalil, and Lani.


    "Should we tool up?" Khalil inquires while looking to Aria for guidance.


    Instead of responding verbally, she nods once, though I note she still isn''t hulking out. I assume she probably doesn''t want to waste the energy, especially now that we''re not even sure if we can supplement our food stores.


    Khalil flexes his hands a few times, then his fingers crackle and split, fur and claws sprouting from them. His hands grow in size until they are equal to a bear''s, with claws to match. At first glance, Lani doesn''t appear to do anything. Knowing that is not the case, it''s confirmed in my mind when I can see wisps of a fire glinting and dancing in her eyes when she gazes at me. Seemingly satisfied with our "tooling up," Aria nods to us approvingly before leading the walking charge toward the village entrance.


    "How long ago did you guys know something was off?" Lani asks as we slowly walk up toward the front of the settlement.


    "Since the river, I guess." After a brief pause, I answer, the question catching me a little off guard at its timing. Lani flashes me a look that tells me there''s bubbling fury below the surface.


    "And you both didn''t think it was important to tell me?"


    "We didn''t want you to worry." Khalil jumps in, probably thinking it''s to my defense.


    "I don''t need to be babied. I should have been told. It''s just stupid of you both. Whatever, I''m just saying, tell me shit is wrong next time." Lani irritatedly complains before exhaling loudly through her nose.


    I purse my lips at the rebuke, but I understand where she''s coming from. If I were put into that coddled position and kept from knowing what was going on when it could affect me directly, I''d be just as irritated as I suspect Lani is. I appreciate her compartmentalizing it, though, instead of making a whole issue about it when we are in the situation we find ourselves currently in.


    Aria forces air through her nose in a huff of irritation, quieting any more conversation that might have been brewing. We slip inside the village proper, and each of us spreads out just slightly from one another, trying our hardest to see anything that could be construed as "out of place." Nothing initially stood out to me, like when I was on top of the cart and peering inside. From the movements and actions of Khalil and Lani, they come to the same conclusion. On the other hand, Aria does not appear convinced, but she doesn''t seem to be acting too concerned, either. Admittedly, it''s hard to judge her mood and temperament at the best of times, so there''s the possibility I am just bad at reading her.


    Aria crouches next to a perfect place for a bird to land and get some seed or water. She carefully gazes over the base of the small bird rack. She runs her hands over the base¨Cas if searching for something¨Cbefore slowly standing and sliding a couple of fingers along the pole to the top. When Aria''s standing up straight, she circles the standing rack for birds and looks in at the water and food levels.


    "Both are near-full. If this was not sudden, the village birds would have eaten and drank this down before leaving." Aria doesn''t look at anyone while she speaks¨Cshe seems to be allowing whoever is listening to follow her thoughts.


    We move from the rack to pass by several tiny, squat homes with doors cracked open. Peering inside allows us to see that we''ll not have any trouble locating food for our return trip, as nothing inside the spaces we''ve looked at thus far appears to be missing. Herbs hang from drying racks, bottles of spirits¨Cmade here in the Wilds and the mass-produced human-made sort¨Care untouched and still resting in racks or on tables as if waiting for someone to return home from a day''s work.


    As unnerved as the rest of us, Lani finally speaks up to break the long-running silence.


    "This is freaking me out. What happened to all the people? Where are the animals? What are we missing?"


    Neither I, Khalil, nor even Aria speak up in response. Lani has just voiced my inner monologue. Aria might have some thoughts, but as we weave through the village, she seems to be keeping them to herself. Her attention is on the smithing area we''re drawing close to.


    The fires inside are cold, which isn''t surprising, but the smell of old charcoal, gas, and metal still drifts out. Whatever happened here did not occur long in the past, probably within the last week if I had to guess. Aria steps up the steps and nudges open the door casually, just like we''d done plenty already today at different places.


    She exhales a hiss of air and jumps back, seemingly startled. As Aria startled and moved, a Border Collie-sized black cat launched from the now-opened door and outside between us. Lani''s hands light with flames, Khalil looks like he is about to put his bear claws to use, and I flinch my hand down towards the quiver strapped to my body. Aria, composing herself while the large feline paces in a circle between us, tries to modulate her voice to a softer tone.


    "No. Do not. Be calm."


    Even with Aria saying to be calm, we never lowered our guard as adrenaline coursed through our bodies like wildfire. Aria slowly crouched and held her hands supine before her toward the huge¨Cthough not wiretail huge feline.


    "We are not enemies."


    The large cat spits and hisses directly at Aria as if it completely understands the speech. Aria continues speaking, now fully crouched down with her palms facing upwards.


    "We were coming to trade here. We just arrived. We are friends. We are Wilder, from a nearby village."


    The pitch-black cat''s ears are still lowered, eyes still wide with aggression, but it does stop pacing between us. I''ve not seen a cat this big before, excluding the more giant wiretail breed, so I don''t do anything. Khalil''s hands snap and crackle, reforming into his regular hands. He seems to have calmed down faster than me or Lani and is curious about the dog-sized cat.


    "Is this a cat-sith?" He murmurs at Aria.


    Idiot, of course he''d make some stupid movie reference at a time like this. I can''t help but love him like a goofy brother. Aria immediately responds in a murmur to Khalil, breaking my brain''s tangent of random humor and, at the same time, correcting his pronunciation with a short and simple answer.


    "Cait Sidhe."


    "Coooool," Khalil responds.


    Once the large cat has stopped pacing between us and has sat down on its haunches in the direct center of the lot of us, I slide my bow over my shoulder, and Lani''s fiery hands wisp away to nothing. The large cat appears unconcerned and sets about using one of its paws to clean its face. It doesn''t look hungry or much more than faintly scruffy.


    "Okay¡­ so we found something at least. Now what?" I ask while gazing over at Aria.


    She seems highly interested in the cait sidhe and less interested in conversing with me, but she does respond, just not to answer my question.


    "Take the feathers off one of your arrows and give them to Khalil."


    I give her a look and don''t move to do anything, but she looks up when I make no response and gives me a hardened look.


    "Do it."


    Not understanding the point but choosing not to argue with her, I shake my head and remove one of the arrows from my quiver. The midnight black feline stops cleaning its face when I remove the arrow, and its vividly purple eyes focus intently on me. After a few moments of tinkering, I''ve removed the fletching from the arrow. Wordlessly, I lean over to hand them to Khalil. The cat''s amethyst eyes follow the exchange with interest.


    "Khalil, you will give the cait sidhe these feathers. They will talk to you. Likely, they will also try not to answer your questions. Do not ask questions without thinking them through." Aria murmurs.


    I furrow my brow. As evidenced by our whole food situation, Khalil could be better at forethought and planning.


    "Maybe Lani should ask instead of Khalil? Sorry man, you''re just not the best at thinking ahead." I blurt out before I can stop myself. Khalil looks at me, his eyes darkening slightly.


    "Dude, I know you''re still mad about the food choice but lay off. If Aria wants me to do it, I''ll do it. Stop assuming I''m going to fuck everything up."


    His anger was justified; I shouldn''t have said anything, so I just held up my hands in front of me in an apology. He''s still pissed, but he nods his head once, letting me know he accepts. Aria clears her throat, encouraging us to speed up the process.


    "Do I just hand them over, or what?" Khalil asks while looking at Aria. She blinks at him a couple of times.


    "You never played with a cat? Toss the feathers in the air to them."


    His anger at me fades to a degree of embarrassment. Khalil clearly thought there was going to be some kind of ritual or something more than that. He waves the feathers in front of him between his fingers, and the dog-sized black cat watches intently¨Cits ears are pointed straight ahead, and its purple eyes focus on the feathers.


    Khalil lets a bit of a grin stretch across his face at the cat''s actions.


    "Oh, ho. Are we interested? Well, let''s just see how you do with all of these at once!"


    At the end of his line, he tosses the few feathers up into the center of our four-person square around the cat, and the feathers float down towards it. The feline doesn''t wait for them to get to a reasonable height. Instead, it launches far higher into the air than is needed, grabbing one of the large fletching feathers in its mouth and using its other two front paws to smash down two more to the ground when it lands.


    The absurdity of the situation isn''t lost on me as I watch the cat roll and kick at the feathers as if nothing else is happening. Aria focuses more intently on Khalil, who gets a good laugh from the rolling feline. A few moments later, he realizes that he''s supposed to be doing something, clears his throat, and then crouches down next to the cait sidhe. He slowly reaches his right hand out, touching the fur behind its front shoulder blades. When he does, the cat instantly stills, flattening its ears and glowering with the classical ''Look Of Doom'' that every single feline in existence can manage. Khalil reaches out with his other hand and slowly runs it soothingly along the other side of the cat''s back.


    "Sorry to bother you. We want to know what happened here." He exhales his words soothingly, though I know he doesn''t have to speak out loud to communicate with animals.


    The cat growls at Khalil, and I look between Khalil, the cat, and Aria.


    "It is a he, and he just cussed me out." Khalil murmurs at Aria. Lani blurts out a laugh from where she''s standing, as if that absurdity was too much.


    "You didn''t ask him a question," Aria mutters, pursing her lips.


    "Oh¡­ right."


    Khalil focuses back on the cat, and his left hand softly strokes the same side of its back.


    "Sorry. What happened here?"


    The cat growls again at Khalil and spits out the feather in his mouth, then stomps it with one of its paws. It doesn''t draw away from Khalil, though.


    "He''s still bitching at me." Khalil murmurs.


    "Ask again. He is being difficult."


    The cat''s tail flicks back and forth while it grumbles in Khalil''s direction. I enjoy the absurdity of what is happening with a mystified sort of amusement.


    "Yes, I know you want to kill the feathers. I need to know the answer to my question, though. What happened here?"


    After Khalil''s second asking of the same question, the cat''s overall aura seems to change. His body stills while his violet eyes focus intently on Khalil. Instead of growling this time, the cat makes a few chirrup-sounding noises and chatters as if he were watching some bird on a distant branch. The cat sits down, and his tail curls around his back paws. The noise-making continues for quite a few moments, and Khalil nods here and there, seemingly wholly understanding. Finally, Khalil draws his hands away from the cait sidhe and stands up to look at the three of us in turn.


    "Okay. So, first off, his name is Silas. He''s glad we showed up, at least to let him out. He apparently can''t return to human-like form anymore. Don''t know why. It didn''t seem relevant, so I didn''t ask."


    "Already did it his nine times," Aria adds without elaboration.


    I squint my eyes, trying to understand that. As it turns out, I don''t know a whole lot about the rarer creatures of our world. I was too busy learning how to hunt, trade, go through seams, and blend in with humans while we were in their world. Aria seems to know a lot, making me wonder how old she is and how she is a Wilder like the rest of us.


    "Okay, that makes sense, I guess. Sure. Silas said he shouldn''t be here, but a seam was opened erratically, shoving him here. He said he passed a whole host of people and animals as he was being drawn here, but he doesn''t know where they wound up, and he doesn''t even know where here is."


    "A seam opened randomly? How is that possible?! The Deore have them all mapped and maintained. They do the rites!" I speak in some degree of shock, my jaw open.


    While we talk amongst ourselves, Silas, the cait sidhe, seems to have returned to violently playing with the feathers taken from one of my arrow''s fletching. He doesn''t even care that we''re discussing him. I move over and sit down on the steps leading into the smithy. Aria finally redirects the general conversation back to the matter at hand.


    "Did he say anything else?"


    "Not really. Silas said that''s what happened to the people and animals around here. They got moved somewhere, like he did. That''s all he answered with, so I guess I''d need to ask him something else to get more clarification if he even could give it to us." Khalil shrugs. Aria shakes her head before responding once again.


    "No, I doubt he knows more about this than what he told us, but we could ask a couple of other things before he goes on his way if you want."

 Chapter 3: The Glade

    "Eyes up, we just got word that the ground sensors have picked up unusual movement near the eastern border. Two minutes, and we''re moving to check it out."


    The bark of Rhys'' voice is a common enough noise, but no one in the small room will blow him off. Rhys'' stature demands respect; his loyalty and ruthlessness in service to the house have made him feared. The small quartet in the team''s break hall pushed aside the non-important things they were doing and got to their feet. A few steps and moments later, they''re pacing through the halls behind the compact, trim, and muscular Rhys on their way to the garages.


    The first through the door is naturally Rhys, who temporarily diverts to harass one of the recently turned who is slacking off with someone beneath his class. It doesn''t take him long to break up the little social entanglement and return to the group of four, getting the golf-cart-sized ATV ready to head out.


    "Hurry it up."


    He sits in the front passenger side of the four-seater, with his right leg hanging out slightly in a relaxed state. While Rhys waits, Opal works on making sure the tanks are fully gassed, Vincent and Javier each check two of the tires to make sure they''re not running low, and Christina takes a "seat" by cramming herself between two safety bars in the back with her hands holding on to the roll cage for support.


    "Let''s go, hurry it up. We don''t have all night." Having given them precisely two minutes, Rhys claps his hands together while speaking.


    The final checks of the all-terrain vehicle are done, and Javier smoothly takes the driver''s seat while Opal and Vincent slide into the small two-seater back seat. After only a couple of moments longer, the garage door rolls up electronically, and the open-aired vehicle rumbles out. Initially, at a slow pace, the ATV speeds up as they hit the ground just past the homestead''s interior protective and defensive fence. They aren''t worried about being heard, and the motor of the outdoor vehicle screams with power as they bounce and zoom over the land in the direction of the triggered ground sensors.


    Of the group of five, Rhys is the more apparent physical specimen, but each group member has their own set of skills. Rhys looks as though he could have come from any corn-fed midwestern American home before he went into the military. Opal looks nothing close to that; more like a waif who''s simply in the wrong place and is being taken along as a mascot. Vincent has strong but average features; he''s almost too average and mundane-looking. Regular people often have difficulty remembering his generic features and face if called on to describe their attacker by police or friends. Javier is masculine and youthful¨Cappearing to be in the prime of his life with a skin care and hair care routine to die for. His teeth are gleaming white, his deep brown eyes a pool of welcoming warmth. He is the perfect predator for preying on social events and parties. Lastly, the caramel-skinned Christina tends towards fitness at first glance, with an athletic frame and tightly wound rows of braids following the curve of her head. She could easily pass for classically beautiful, were she not covered from the neck down by ornate tattoos and ritual, decorative scarring. Her accent is hard to place, almost as though any trace of her origin has been purposefully unlearned and forgotten.


    The drive is long enough for it to be uncomfortable for everyone sitting crammed into the ATV. The homestead''s property area covers a vast amount of acreage, and they have to pass through two perimeter fences on their way to the outermost one, where the warning sensors were tripped. As they finally draw near the area, Rhys gestures for Javier to cut the engine. Complying after parking the rugged outdoor vehicle next to a relatively large thicket, the party of five disembarks from the vehicle and draws out their preferred weapon for dealing with the unknown: assault rifles. No one speaks, and all of the party''s faces are masks of veritable focus. While the vehicle noise that was made coming into the area was likely heard for quite a distance, once on foot, the five advanced in complete silence.


    Vincent moves ahead, his clothing and body mottling against the darkness of the evening, becoming almost like an unseen presence stalking through the brush. Even if one were to be watching him when he drew up his camouflage, his presence would be lost to all but people trained¨Cor with the capability supernaturally¨Cto see him. Opal weaves her way through the underbrush two paces behind Rhys, her thin and delicate stature at odds with how she smoothly moves without fear or concern. Javier shadows a few paces behind and to their left, spacing out their advancement and maintaining the same pace as those in front of him. Following the group is Christina, who has taken up the rear guard and is following the others as they advance while also scanning regularly behind them with her calculating and cautious eyes.


    After a few minutes of walking and stalking, a clicking noise sounds up ahead of the party. The group pauses, recognizing the clicker cricket noise used by Vincent. One-click meant he''d seen their quarry¨Cwhatever it might be. As the four remaining group members draw nearer, they take a more crouched approach. They creep slower and closer until they hear the sounds of many, many people. Javier doesn''t even pretend to hide his surprise; he mouthes at Opal, "What the fuck?" while Christina takes up position next to Rhys and slowly nudges some shrubbery aside so that they can get a good view.


    Those unknown people were in a natural field clearing and looked to be trying to set up simple a-frame shelters to protect themselves from the elements. At least forty to fifty people are in the glade, and they aren''t anything like Rhys'' group anticipated. There are young and old, some few animals¨Ca few of which didn''t look "normal." Some of the young children were crying, comforted, and quieted by others in their large group. It was bewildering. All five likely have similar thoughts: how did these people get through the outer fencing, or even past the outermost perimeter''s sensors?


    "Uh, unexpected. What''s the plan?" Christina murmurs, turning her head towards Rhys. While Rhys didn''t appear to her to be flabbergasted or anything past "intrigued," it took him a full thirty seconds to respond to Christina.


    "Subdue with non-violence if possible. They don''t appear to be combatants. Be prepared for some of them to want to defend the young and old, though." He doesn''t miss a beat before adding, "Victor, make sure you tranq one of those weird birds."


    None of the group on the ground could see Victor, but they knew he wouldn''t be far since they''d all worked so closely together in the recent past. With the moment of engagement fast approaching, Javier, Opal, and Christina prepare themselves by tensing and untensing while Rhys stretches his shoulders back, loosening his muscles unnecessarily.


    Once Rhys gives the directive to act, all four visible party members charge out from the underbrush. Javier fires three rounds into the air from his assault weapon, and Rhys bellows in his most commanding tone.


    "DO NOT MOVE, YOU ARE TRESPASSING AND MUST BE VETTED."


    The initial shock of the gunfire and yelling triggers some of the people in the clearing to scatter and trip over each other after being startled. Though the initial chaos passes much quicker than Rhys anticipated, several individuals rush to put themselves between the larger contingent of people and Rhys'' group. A brisk chuff noise sounds behind them, and one of the strange-looking birds careens from where it was flying and crashes down into some of the grass.


    Rhys and the group¨Csans Vincent¨Ccontinue to advance with weapons in hand, and Rhys continues to yell at them in his most authoritative manner.


    "YOU ARE ON LAND THAT DOES NOT BELONG TO YOU. YOU HAVE NOT BEEN GIVEN LEAVE TO TAKE UP RESIDENCE HERE. PUT DOWN ANY WEAPONS YOU MAY HAVE, AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED."


    Though he''s sure he sounds pretty intimidating, the people who have taken up a line of defense do not look intimidated or deterred; they also do not put down some of the items they''ve grabbed to use as weapons. As Rhys and the others get closer, they notice those unknown people wearing relatively simple clothing. Some of their clothing resembles old hand-me-downs from a thrift store or clothing drive. These look to be salt-of-the-earth people and do not fit in with the unpopulated area.


    Javier fires another shot into the air, which causes some of the gathered people in front of them to flinch, but again, they don''t back away.


    "Okay¡­ now what?" Javier murmurs.


    Rhys either ignores him or doesn''t hear. Instead, he bellows once again.


    "PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS, OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO TREAT YOU AS HOSTILE."


    The totality of that statement puts everyone on edge. Some people look back and forth as if trying to decide what they should be doing or what the others near them look like they''re going to do. An older woman jogs up and forces her way through the line of the would-be defenders. She turns her back to Rhys and the others with him, instead seeming to speak to those ready to defend. Her hands gesture with calming movements, clearly trying to get them to stand down, and after a few tense and long moments, the defenders slowly begin to do just that. While they don''t disarm themselves completely, they do lower the makeshift weapons they have in hand down to their sides, which is to be somewhat expected. Once they''ve done that, the woman turns around and slowly walks toward Rhys and the armed group. She holds her hands carefully to either side of her body, showing no visible weapons.


    As the woman draws near, Christina is the first to speak and not yell like Rhys has been doing until then.


    "Stop. That''s close enough. Turn slowly so we can see if you have weapons on you."


    The woman acquiesces to the order and follows the instructions to the letter. She stops and looks at the gathered quartet once she''s done a full circuit turn.


    "Hello. We mean you no harm. We didn''t realize this was a populated area."


    Christina gazes towards Rhys, who then nods in her direction. Once that happens, the group carefully lowers their weapons or slings them to their back. They are still easily within grasp but not openly being used to intimidate. Opal looks behind her and whistles once. A few moments pass, and Vincent walks from behind them as if he were simply lagging behind.


    The woman standing before them is older, perhaps in her 60s if going by looks alone. She has silvery gray hair, with crow''s feet on the corner of her eyes, and a thin mouth, but she doesn''t appear frail. Her eyes are a shockingly vivid and deep green, easily seen even with only the moon illuminating both groups.


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    "It''s a nice night; let''s not ruin it with a misunderstanding that leads to violence. My name is Tallulah, and I can speak for these people." Tallulah''s voice is amicable but cautious.


    Opal clears her throat pointedly, and Rhys turns his head from "Tallulah" to look at Opal. Once Opal has his attention, she speaks in a language unfamiliar to the unknown older woman, who is calling herself Tallulah.


    "My sight can see them for what they are, Rhys. These are not people. They are something else. Several have magic swimming around them."


    While Tallulah doesn''t understand the speech, the five armed individuals seem to all understand. They tilt their heads ever so slightly, and Rhys responds to Opal in the same language.


    "Are you sure?"


    Opal quickly nods her head but doesn''t say anything else. Rhys looks at the others, his gaze hardening. Rather than redraw their weapons, all five turn to look at Tallulah, drawing back their upper lips to reveal lengthening fangs.


    Tallulah immediately steps backward, shocked to be encountering supernaturals. She immediately puts her hands up in front of her chest as if it were going to keep them from advancing on her. She starts to back away, which encourages the defenders quite a distance behind her to redraw their weapons to a ready state. Seeing the change in atmosphere, several weans squeal in fear and run further away.


    "What are you? Why are you here? Answer plainly, now, and this might not escalate." Rhys snarls at Tallulah.


    Vincent steps backward, his skin and clothing mottling once again as he visibly "disappears" from sight, becoming a ghost amongst the forest backdrop. Tallulah doesn''t respond but instead continues to slowly back away. She looks somewhat afraid or unable to decide what to do. Her eyes flit back and forth across the faces of Rhys, Opal, Christina, and Javier as they continue to advance menacingly and match her step for step. They seem wholly unafraid that following Tallulah in this way keeps them closer and closer to the line of individuals set to defend their people behind them.


    On the next round of Tallulah looking between faces, Javier catches her gaze. Like a beacon of an emperor or a king of old, he snarls at Tallulah, his voice golden and authoritative¨Ca tone that no man, woman, or even beast could dare think of speaking falsely against.


    "What are you?''


    Tallulah''s eyes widened, and seemingly despite herself, she quickly answered Javier''s question.


    "We are the people of the Wilds. Faeries, or fey, whichever you prefer."


    This doesn''t seem to placate Javier or the other three vampires, who continue to advance and match Tallulah''s retreat step by step. Javier continues to force his presence on Tallulah, demanding through a sheer vampiric will that she answers his questions.


    "Then you are a long way from home, faerie. This is not your territory. Why are you here?"


    Whereas Tallulah answered quickly with the first question, her answer this time came slightly delayed. It was as if she had to think of it while also answering, so it did not seem like she was choosing to be evasive.


    "I¨Cwe¨CWe don''t know where we are, and we don''t know how we got here. We were in our village, and then suddenly, we were drawn away and found ourselves in this field with nothing but the clothes on our backs and what we had in our hands the moment we were taken. That is the truth!"


    The distance between Tallulah and the defenders has grown small enough that several of them rush forward with weapons in hand. The first to get closest pulls back a hammer to strike Christina, but she deftly sidesteps the untrained attack and tackles the man to the ground, using his weight against him rather than her own strength. Before Tallulah can scream to stop, Christina has already bitten down on the man''s throat, using her fangs in a vicious attack that leaves the man gurgling, spitting blood, and with his throat torn out. Tallulah''s voice pierces the air¨Ca screech like a banshee in the deepest, darkest night.


    "NO! STOP THIS!"


    Her eyes are suddenly hollow, sunken, and black pooled pits that reflect the moonlight. The change is sudden and stark, pulsing a pause to the defenders rallying to attack the vampires and the vampires themselves. The thrumming was almost like a stunning pulse that expanded outwards from Tallulah¨Cit didn''t hurt or injure.


    A few moments pass with no more movement, but as soon as the stunned nearby move again, Tallulah is grabbed roughly by an unseen force. The force turns out to be Vincent, who appears once more once he has grappled Tallulah''s arms behind her. Vincent quickly drags her towards the other four vampires, twisting so that his body and back are protected by his allies and making Tallulah a meat shield. Rhys, Opal, and Javier quickly launch themselves at the closest three would-be attackers, and the promised brutal violence ensues. The three that are chosen to be attacked are not prepared for the speed and strength of the attackers. They quickly find themselves taken to the ground, much like Christina did with the first. Tallulah howls, kicks, flails, and screams, but her initial startling voice and change seem to have no more effect on the group of vampires.


    Pulling herself from the ground and the body of the first victim of her version of self-defense, Christina turns and backhands Tallulah with enough strength to knock her unconscious in Victor''s grip. Opal and Rhys both are drinking down the blood of their two victims noisily and greedily, while Javier is already starting to stand away from the woman he killed, his clothing and protective vest darkened from blood splatter. The fight-ending killings have the effect of sending the rest of the large group into a fearful tizzy, and it takes Rhys'' bellowing to stop them.


    "ENOUGH! LAY DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW! LAY DOWN ON THE GROUND AND WE WILL NOT HARM ANY MORE OF YOU!"


    Those closest to the violence that took place quickly dropped the thick branches and assorted tools they would use to defend themselves. Before long, the young, old, and all others slowly kneeled and lay down on the ground as instructed. Goats and donkeys, a pair of cows, dogs, and cats, all seemingly domesticated, seem very unsure of what to make of the whole host of people suddenly lying down in the grass. Strange birds circle overhead, and the less strange ones mix in with them. They do not flee or stray from the people on the ground over much.


    "Sure, everyone gets a meal but me," Vincent grumbles a little, which only those who are close to him can hear. He grudgingly drags the unconscious Tallulah next to a tree and sets her down with her back propped up against the base of the trunk.


    Even with his grumbling, he doesn''t stop to feed or inflict more violence. Instead, he jogs over toward the area where the strange-looking bird was made to fall from the sky earlier in their encounter. It doesn''t take Vincent long to find, and he quickly makes his way back towards the vampires, who stalk through the lines of people lying on the ground as commanded.


    Vincent slowly turns the large black bird over in his hands. He finds himself suddenly shocked when, during the inspection, several of the bird''s feathers open razor-thin slices on his hands¨Cand without any pain on the infliction of a wound, like a scalpel.


    "Wow. Come look at this."


    When Rhys and Opal both come close, he holds out the limp bird in his undamaged hand and shows off the sliced flesh of his other hand. The bird has the occasional red feather as if it were warning others not to touch it. Its legs are like normal birds except that they are a vivid blood red in coloration.


    "I thought it was just an oversized crow, but look at its red eyes. Some of its feathers are like knives, too."


    He holds up his sliced hand as evidence. Opal and Rhys look between the bird and Vincent, their eyebrows raising slightly. Rhys and Vincent both look at Opal next. Opal lifts one shoulder in a shrug towards both of them.


    "I''m not a Diviner, guys. I wasn''t trained in that shit, so I have no idea. We should take it back and let one of the actual ones investigate."


    Rhys doesn''t seem to disagree with Opal''s assessment and, in fact, doesn''t say anything at all. Tallulah groans and starts to rouse from the unconscious state that Christina''s backhand put her in. Instead of saying anything, Rhys walks over and crouches down next to Tallulah, so when she opens her eyes¨Cno longer black as pitch or sunken¨Chis is the first face she sees. Tallulah jerks back from the sudden face-to-face contact, her back pressing into the tree''s bark behind her.


    "Please¡­ we are just lost. We don''t even want to be here." She mumbles.


    Rhys moves like he''s going to pat her shoulder, and he does, in fact, do just that once, but afterward, he curls his fingers around her shirt and lifts her by her shoulder from the ground. Once Tallulah returns to her feet, with a red bruise from Christina''s slap across her face already starting to appear, Rhys points behind him.


    "You will tell your people to come with us peacefully, and we will house them somewhere until our liege lord decides what to do with you all. You may carry your dead with you, or you can leave them. It''s up to you."


    Tallulah looks stricken initially and gazes past Rhys to the four bodies on the ground, not far away. Tears well up in her eyes, but to her credit, she does not wail. Instead, she breathes deeply through her nose and brushes Rhys'' hand off her shoulder. Tallulah stops next to one of the four bodies¨Ca young man, not seemingly older than his late teens or early twenties. Her eyes harden slightly, and her left-hand rests on his chest. She murmurs something, but softly and in a language the five vampires don''t recognize. From her gesture and movement, the vampires can tell it''s some farewell, perhaps a prayer of Tallulah''s people, and they don''t interfere.


    Christina watches Tallulah with a well-practiced, dispassionate gaze. As the group is seemingly pacified, she and the other vampires seem to have no reason to inflict violence and death further. Instead, they wait for Tallulah to gather her people. Rhys turns from watching Tallulah as she moves from body to body to focus his attention on Vincent.


    "Vincent, take the vehicle and head back to the compound. Tell them that we''re bringing¨C" Rhys pauses and looks back at the group before returning his gaze to Vincent "¨Ctell them we''re bringing a large group, possibly fifty, of unknown supernaturals. Have them clear out one of the larger horse barns and temporarily move those horses into one of the others. Tell them to have ten guards ready to be posted inside and outside the barn when we arrive."


    He pauses, letting Vincent soak in his command before he adds one more thing.


    "Also, ensure the bird doesn''t get harmed on the way to one of the Diviners. Off you go."


    With Vincent immediately moving away at a jog to do as Rhys ordered, he looks back to Tallulah, who is still bent over the last body. He clears his throat, and Tallulah seems to get the drift. Without looking back, she turns and walks towards her people, still lying on the ground. She initially speaks to them in the same, unknown language. Rhys doesn''t like that¨Cshe could be telling them to attack all at once or something else¨Cso he immediately interrupts Tallulah.


    "No, speak in the same language we both understand."


    Tallulah looks back at Rhys, eyes still hardened, but acquiesces to his demand when she turns back to her people.


    "As I was saying¨CI need some of you to help us carry the fallen, and we''re going to follow these creatures¡­" Tallulah almost spits the word to describe the four remaining vampires, "¡­back to where they will shelter us until they can ''sort out'' whatever is happening. I don''t think they will harm us further; this was all a misunderstanding. Please get your things, get your animals, and peacefully follow them. They don''t want us here any more than we want to be here, so it''s in their interest to help us figure out how to get back to our village in the Wilds."


    There is some discontent, as is to be expected, but ultimately, the group packs up the few meager things they have and their animals. The dead are carefully wrapped, or at least covered, in old blankets or clothing and pulled along on makeshift sleds made of branches and thin logs. Before too long, the large group is moving behind the vampires at a reasonably healthy pace. Rhys is leading the front of the group and setting the overall pace, with Tallulah a few paces behind him. Opal and Javier are essentially on either side of the herd of people and animals, with Christina following in the rear and keeping a sharp eye around. The four vampires don''t need to look up at the moon to know they have plenty of time to walk the group back to the homestead proper before dawn.

 Chapter 4: The Homestead

    After a few hours of walking, the group passes through the second and primary security fence and perimeter. The individuals guarding each transition of fences show some small surprise at the sheer amount of captured individuals being led through, but to their credit, they do as Rhys tells them. At each checkpoint, the guards radio back the progress of the large group, keeping whoever is on the other end appraised quite fully. The group''s progress is steady, with only one incident shortly after the secondary security checkpoint is passed through: one of the group''s dogs, following its nose and a scent trail, made the unfortunate discovery of a group of the homestead''s "dogs." The homestead''s dogs, bred by the vampires and made more potent with their supernatural blood, are trained to handle threats and unknowns in one singular way. The lost dog''s distant cries were very short and quickly silenced. No one was permitted to go and find the dog''s body to bury or transport; they were told to keep their animals closer and not let them range away.


    Finally, with still a few hours left in the night before dawn, the group¨Cled by the four vampires¨Cis guided to a large, exceedingly well-kept horse barn. The doors are already open, showing an expansive set of fine-quality stalls. Clearly, the barn was for housing horses of the highest caliber and worth, with security measures to keep the property safe. While the horses were moved away before the group''s arrival, several guards still remove remnants of the horse''s prior residence with shovels and carts.


    Rhys stops the group and gestures Tallulah over to him. She hesitates initially but then makes her way over to Rhys and Christina while they stand just to the right of the barn with a couple of unknown guards at their side. Christina seems to be simply discussing how the area will be maintained and the breakdown of shifts during the day and night. Rhys, not particularly involved in the conversation, turns to face Tallulah as she draws close.


    "Tallulah, right?"


    It''s a rhetorical question that she nods to. Rhys doesn''t stop speaking to allow her to answer; instead, she elects to continue.


    "Here''s the plan, without any directives yet coming from my superiors: your people should be able to fit inside this horse barn for now; there is plenty of space, as you can see. We''ll bring out some various bedding so your old and young can sleep off the stalls'' floors. Food and water will be distributed and rationed out; how you choose to distribute it further once we bring it out to you and your people is on you and whomever you choose to assist you."


    Tallulah watches Rhys as he speaks, and when he pauses for a response from her, she nods. What else could she do? She studies the vampire, denoting his mannerisms and how he acts. Brutal, earlier, and now merely acting as a shepherd, with her and her people functioning as the cattle. He''s polite, likely seeing no reason to antagonize already cowed individuals. She does note that the vampires are being cautious to a degree¨Cthere are a lot of guards around¨Cand she doesn''t know if those are vampires as well or simply those who are meant to serve them. However, even with their cautiousness, they still treat her and her people like humans, which they are not. While she isn''t going to give them a reason to remember otherwise, as soon as they can do it, she plans to see about organizing the remainder of her Wilder people in secret.


    Rhys, speaking again, brings Tallulah out of her thoughts.


    "In any event, I think that will cover everything you need tonight and tomorrow. There will be guards around at all times of the day and night for our protection as well as yours¨C"


    Tallulah mentally scoffs at that. She understands they are essentially prisoners, and dressing it up as anything but is a little insulting.


    "¨Cand any issues and small needs can be addressed to them as they are assigned. Naturally, you won''t be allowed any weapons, and of course, you are expected not to damage the housing you''re being given for now. Treat us with respect, and we will treat you with respect. That is how our society works and operates, and I recommend you convince your people to heed that."


    Tallulah exhales once and finally responds.


    "Thank you."


    That simple "thanks" was immeasurably hard to voice. After all, they did slaughter four of the people from their village she lived with and knew as friends¨Cor, at the very least, acquaintances. Clearly, though, she''s supposed to forget that misunderstanding occurred. She forces a slight smile to her lips, knowing the faint crow''s feet around her mouth and eyes make her appear far less threatening than she and others from her village could be.


    "I''m sure we''ll be no further trouble to you and yours. Perhaps we''ll even find a way to work together as equals."


    To his credit, Rhys does not laugh, but one of the guards nearby snickers. A cold and hardened look from Rhys silences him. Christina walks away from the two guards and off to speak with another grouping of guards some distance away. Rhys'' eyes track Christina as she moves away before finally responding.


    "Perhaps. I need to go and speak with my superiors now. The guards here will help you and your people settle in, and¨C" At this point, he''s speaking to the two guards because he hardens his tone to do so. "¨Cthey will make sure that the needs which I said will be met are done so. We''ll likely speak again tomorrow evening after dusk."


    Rhys doesn''t give the guards a chance to respond, or Tallulah either for that matter. Instead, he turns and trudges across the gravel and stone pavement towards the ornate homestead mansion that seems to reside at the center of the innermost patrolled security fence. The place looks beautiful, with wood and stone engraving and elaborate detailing. The build appears to have been here for some time but is still rigorously maintained. The landscaping is being done, even after dark, and Tallulah can see two individuals wiping and cleaning windows on the outside¨Cthough they seem to be in areas without much activity. She momentarily muses that perhaps the liege lord, whomever that might be, doesn''t want to see the help while they''re awake in the evenings.


    Tallulah spends a bit of time gazing at their surroundings when she has a few minutes. The number of people on this property is far beyond an ordinary large-scale ranch or homestead, which makes sense to her. Assuming there is a family of vampires, or whatever they call themselves, they would also need daytime servants to protect them. While she can''t initially tell which guards are vampires and which aren''t, she assumes that some of them during the nighttime are, and even the lowest of the vampires probably have one or two human servants to aid them.


    Tallulah watches as dogs nearly the size of small Shetland ponies are brought through the same security checkpoint she and her village were moved through not long before. While she doesn''t think they are vampire dogs, their vampire owners have clearly modified them somehow. They growl when they pass closer to where her people are milling about as they are being moved into their "new home," but a few tugs of their thick chain leashes by the guards along with a strange language''s command from who are maintaining them are enough to bring the beasts to heel. As she watches, she realizes they are bringing the dogs to the mansion of the homestead itself. Her head tilts slightly while she puzzles out the movements. Perhaps the dogs are brought outside in the evening to roam and protect the grounds, but in the daytime, they''re brought into the mansion itself to roam and protect the interior while the vampires sleep? That would make sense, she supposes. Her musing over the actions is ended when one of the two guards¨Cnot the one who snickered, she denotes¨Cmakes his way to her.


    After a brief conversation with the guard, during which she''s informed there will be ten to fifteen guards around the horse barn at all times, she''s told who she can approach with issues so they can be handled. The guard gestures to a man in his thirties with dark skin and a smooth head. He is bearded, but it isn''t wild. Instead, it looks meticulously groomed. She politely thanks the guard and starts to walk in the direction of the dark-skinned man.


    "Hello, I was told you''re who I''m supposed to speak to if we have any issues that need addressing. My name is Tallulah."


    She doesn''t extend a hand, unsure how typical first greetings go with vampires and their servants. The guard looks her over, quite critically from the facial expressions. Clearly, he is not a vampire, as they have almost a superhuman ability to maintain pure emotionless fa?ades. It''s one of the few lessons Wilder teach each other about vampires and how they act (if it ever comes up in conversation anyway). Finally, the man reaches forward and shakes Tallulah''s hand.


    "Micah."


    There''s an awkward silence between the pair before Micah adds to his brisk greeting.


    "Is there something you need?"


    The way it''s intoned makes it clear that he hopes (and maybe expects) there will not be anything she needs. Taking the hint and not wanting to press the man''s patience since she might need his assistance soon, she offers her best smile.


    "No, no. I just wanted to introduce myself. I''m sure you''re quite busy. I''ll let you get back to it."


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    Micah nods his head once and then fixes her with a passive-like look, expecting her to be the one to leave, which she does. She turns and starts walking back towards the horse barn turned home, thousands of no-help questions and thoughts running through her mind. For a moment, she allows herself the distraction of the host of thoughts, not focusing on any particular thread. The noise of questions and thoughts is chaos in her mind¨Cand is only interrupted by a guard stepping directly in front of her and clearing his throat.


    "Ah, hello?"


    She starts a little, coming to an abrupt stop.


    "Hello?"


    The guard who stopped her is young, much younger than most that she''s seen. He hasn''t quite grown into his body, which tells her he''s in his late teens¨Cassuming he''s human. He brushes a hand up, running his hand over his carefully kept fade-style hair. Only then does she realize he looks like a younger version of Micah, the overseer guard she just met. He gives her a half smile and looks over her shoulder.


    "Follow me. It''s better to talk where no one''s watching. People around here are great lip readers."


    Tallulah goes with the flow of the already whirlwind night without complaint and follows behind the young man. She glances up at the sky, feeling her nerves starting to dull from the first purple tendrils of the rapidly approaching dawn; it won''t be long before she feels the weight and lethargy of her moon-aligned self. He leads Tallulah quite far from the horse barn and the wandering guards, though they stay within the first perimeter fence. She realizes that the property they must be on is quite massive and must have taken a fortune to own, no matter where they are. In the distance, she can see the notably rounded peaks of significant hills and mountains. Coupled with the English language usage and humidity, she figures they''re somewhere in Appalachia since those mountains are old and rounded, and she isn''t aware of similar mountains geographically.


    The young, dark-skinned man turns after a few more minutes of walking and gestures for Tallulah to sit with him on what looks to be a simple flagstone bench. Its construction doesn''t stick out much from the foliage allowed to grow in that particular spot inside the perimeter fence. Tallulah slowly settles in, looking expectantly at the young man.


    "Sorry about the cloak and dagger routine."


    He holds his hands up, seemingly genuine in his apologeticness. Tallulah shrugs her shoulders at the beginning of her response.


    "It''s fine. Since I assume there''s no lip readers here, what did you want to speak of?"


    The young man runs a hand over his face as if wiping sweat from his brow and cheeks, though none is present yet.


    "Oh, right. My name''s Eli¨Cer¨CElijah. Sorry, I didn''t say that first."


    The apologeticness comes across as strange, and it''s only then that Tallulah realizes the young man is nervous. Instead of interrupting him, she fixes him with a more measured look¨Cmeasured to be welcoming and compassionate, though she feels neither of those things at the moment.


    Elijah leans forward and looks past Tallulah to see if anyone is following them or walking in their direction on their guard rounds. When he''s satisfied, he keeps watching but speaks to her.


    "Micah isn''t bad, but¨Cbut he''s always given all the work as of late and probably just resents being forced into yet another job."


    Tallulah doesn''t really see where he''s going with this, but allowing him to keep speaking uninterrupted also gives her time to look over his body movements and try to read his facial tics and tells.


    "Anyway, he''s my uncle. We''re both part of the living line of the¨C"


    He pauses a little as if trying to find the right words.


    "Well, most people call them vampires, but they call themselves many different things. Here, they''ve always called other vampires draugar, but it doesn''t come up much in conversation. I just figured you''d like to know. I was also kind of wondering what, uh, you guys are."


    Tallulah wasn''t that interested in the details, but information is information, and it''s better to keep someone talking who wants to talk.


    "What do you mean by ''living line''? Also, do you prefer to be called Elijah or Eli?"


    Elijah adjusts his weight while sitting on the flagstaff-constructed bench beside her.


    "Let''s go with Elijah in mixed company; Eli is fine privately. And, well, ''living lines'' are like the descendants of a vampire. Maybe sometime I can give you the run-down on how, uh, draugar society generally works from what I''ve been taught, but it doesn''t matter right now, so that''ll have to be on down the line. Okay?"


    "Sure, Eli. So you''re a living descendant of a vampire who owns this property? Am I getting that right?"


    Elijah dips his head, and she can see the faint sheen of sweat forming on his temples, reflecting the rising sun.


    "Yeah, now that we got that out of the way, it gives you an idea about me¨Clike I said, Micah isn''t so bad. He''s just in the age group where he gets tested constantly to see if he breaks or bends; Micah wants to be turned, so he will be a huge stickler for whatever rules get handed down. They probably told you to talk with him if you and your people need anything, right?"


    Tallulah starts to nod, but Elijah keeps talking, so clearly that was rhetorical.


    "Yeah, just try not to ask him anything. It''s probably better that way. If you need to, try to find me. I''ll help you out if I can."


    He reaches up, wipes the sweat off his brow, and pats his hand off on his pants.


    "Damn, it''s getting hot already. Sun''s not even up yet." He sighs, complaining primarily to himself.


    "Why?" Tallulah minimizes her question to one simple word to see what Elijah will share with her in response.


    "Why? Well, I mean, I know you''ll probably need help at some point, and I don''t like to see kids suffering and such. Also, if I''m totally honest with you, I want to get to know other, uh, supernatural, type beings?"


    He seems unsure if he''ll offend her by calling her "supernatural," which she is, and he won''t, but for some reason, it tickles her that he''s so nervous when he and his people have the upper hand.


    "Wilder."


    Elijah looks puzzled at the one word Tallulah utters.


    "Uh, what?"


    "My village, my people you have here in the barn, we''re a tribe of Wilder. That''s what they call us where we''re from. There are families¨Ctribes, like. Wilder is, well, a type of what we are. Humans have a lot of names for our kind. Fey, faeries, s¨ªdhe, plebes deorum, changelings, tuatha d¨¦. The list goes on. Wilder are kind of like groups of misfit toys who all wind up living together and forming a village or settlement. There are other tribes that are more, I don''t know, regal in their bearing. History, provenance, snotty descendants, etcetera. Some of them are powerful enough to have formed their own cities. Others govern depending on the seasons."


    "Are there a lot of you?" Elijah leans in her direction a fraction, fascination burning in his eyes. He is genuinely interested, Tallulah realizes.


    "I mean, sure. Most of our kind are in the Wilds, though¨Cwhich is, how can I describe it easily? It''s like another place next to this place. We can cross here into the human world through what are called seams, and some of our kind stay here permanently, but yeah, like I said, most stay in the Wilds. It isn''t that safe for us here, as you can kind of tell."


    Elijah leans back, a little like she growled at him and a little like he was embarrassed by that last line.


    "Yeah, sorry. They''re really, really, uh, really protective of their territory here. Sorry about your friends. I know I didn''t have anything to do with it, but that must have been shitty to just been rolled up on out of nowhere and have to try and defend yourselves."


    "Yeah, you could say that. Maybe a little worse than ''shitty,'' though, you know?" Tallulah sighs.


    "I mean, why''d you decide to come here if the Wilds are where you normally stay?" While inquiring, Elijah rubs his hands over the padded knee inserts on his black military-style guard pants.


    She watches his fidgeting while deciding whether to answer the probing questions truthfully or not. After a long few moments and a rapid internal debate, she makes an executive decision to trust Elijah at least a small amount.


    "We didn''t. Somehow, we were pulled through a seam as a huge group. That isn''t supposed to¨Cno, it doesn''t¨Chappen."


    "But, it did happen?" He asks with an eyebrow crooked up inquisitively on his dark face. She slowly nods to him in response, keeping her tone measured.


    "Yeah, it did. That''s the problem. We don''t know how or why it happened, and one of the people who might have been able to figure it out, well, he''s dead. Your vampire friends ate his throat out when he was trying to defend me."


    "Shit." He grimaces, showing all his teeth, then uncomfortably shifts his weight. "So, how do we get you guys back to the Wilds?"


    She laughs softly¨Cthough it''s pretty mirthless¨Cher eyes rising to the purple and orange hues, turning the sky to dawn.


    "Well, we''d have to find a seam, but if they''re acting haywire, who knows if it''s even safe or where we''d turn up. No offense, but I think that''s a problem for another day."


    Taking the cue, Elijah slowly starts to stand up.


    "We should get you back before Micah or some other guard gets suspicious."


    Tallulah smoothly rises next to him, brushing her fingers through her silvery gray hair and trying not to touch the bruise that has formed across part of her face from being backhanded. She fixes him once again with her piercingly green eyes.


    "If you think so."


    He slides his hands into his pockets and then starts to lead them back to the horse barn. He continues to talk along the way, though his tone is greatly reduced, mostly murmuring.


    "Tomorrow night¨Cwell, tonight, I guess it is now¨Cis going to be rough. You''ll be brought before, um, the liege lord currently taking visitors. Just¡­ try not to lie."


    His dark brown eyes turn towards her, and she realizes his youth gives him the kindness still showing in his eyes that the older guards she''s seen do not seem to have.


    "Thank you, Eli."


    He nods a little bit in response. Quietness reigns as he leads Tallulah back to the horse barn and separates from her, leaving her to her own devices.


    Before too long, with sleep trying to drag her down, she finally decides to go and check out the horse barn, sighing inwardly that it''s no great surprise they''re being corralled like animals. As she walks inside, she steels herself, and as sure as the sun and moon rise every day and night, she''s inundated by questions, anger, spoken fears, and requests the moment people from her village see her return. She holds up her hands, trying to calm and soften their voices. With a long sigh, she gets ready to do her best, answering and talking to everyone. It is quite a long time before she finally can find herself a makeshift cot in a cleaned-out stall and close her eyes for a blissful period of sleep.

 Chapter 5: The Homecoming

    Some of me felt terrible when we loaded items from the now wholly abandoned village into our trade wagon. However, Aria¨Cwho suggested it¨Cwas correct. There was no reason for those items and things to go to waste. It''s not as though we knew when or if the Wilder to whom it all belonged would be back, and sooner or later, someone else would show and ransack the place. Besides, if they ever showed up, we were sure our village would help them get back on their feet. While we were there gathering valuables and deciding what would make the trip and what we''d leave behind, a reafan circled over our heads, causing some degree of comedic drama.


    Our particularly foul-mouthed cait sidhe (according to Khalil) took it as a personal affront. Hence, Khalil spent an entire hour trying to convince the reafan to come down close enough so we could get it into a birdcage. After the bird was caged, he spent a good twenty minutes lightheartedly complaining, telling Silas to chill out and that he wouldn''t get to eat the bird.


    We started back on the traveler''s path with a completely loaded trade wagon full of more goods than could have ever been expected for us to bring back. We were all fully prepared for the journey back to be full of nonsense and stops, but none of that occurred. In fact, the two donkeys and our party made excellent time even with the new addition of Silas. From the start, the cait sidhe decided to follow us¨Cor perhaps just Khalil¨Cas if he were a part of our group.


    The pair of them would constantly argue¨Cthough it always sounded one-sided to us, as Silas only made occasional noises¨Cabout meals and the caged reafan. While some of the arguments were joking, Khalil still ensured the reafan was safely stored in the stables where we kept the mules at night when we camped. Silas wasn''t a burden; he caught several small animals along the way and brought them back to camp at various parts of the journey back to our village. That alone saved us from days and days of nothing but those blasted flaming hot puffed cheese snacks. I tried to convince him¨Cvia Khalil, of course¨Cto bring back some safe-to-eat vegetables or herbs, but his response by vomiting assorted plants and grasses he''d eaten while wandering with us made it clear that would not happen.


    Aria slowed and finally stopped our procession as we entered the final stretch of our journey. She gathered us up and even circled some wood to sit on. With a bit of herbal tea bubbling over a temporary fire, she finally looked between Khalil, Lani, and I. Aria glanced at Silas when he yowled, but otherwise, she seemingly ignored him.


    "We should get our story straight before we arrive at our village. There will be a lot of questions, and we do not want to get caught up in the wrong side of an accusation."


    I realize then that she makes perfect sense. Showing up filled to the gills with trade items while not having seemingly traded anything that our village''s Wilder had individually allocated would draw questions and suspicion from even the most even-keeled of us. Part of me was a little offended in truth, as I''d like to think¨Cor pretend, I suppose¨Cthat we''d done enough in our trading routes and other work for the village to at least be given the benefit of the doubt. I finally shrug in response.


    "I mean, I think we should just tell them the truth. Besides, we brought back some things that no one would expect to have been traded. Look at the bird and Silas; no one would expect anyone in that village to have traded either of those."


    Aria moves forward a little, crouching next to the teapot. She pulls out four cups and starts to pour some of the herbal tea made from berries I collected from the Wilds during our journey back. Khalil looks over at Silas after I mention him.


    "Are they going to try and cage up Silas? I''ve kinda gotten fond of hearing him call me a slack-jawed, drooling idiot¨Calong with other colorful things."


    My lips twitch, trying to hold back a grin. Before Khalil even spoke those words, I could tell that he''d grown fond of our newly discovered cait sidhe, and I knew he wouldn''t be keen to part with him unless Silas chose it. Aria offers one of the cups to Khalil and addresses what Khalil said first rather than me.


    "No, I do not think they will. It is bad luck."


    Silas mrows at that moment as if to emphasize Aria''s point with a cat-version of "yeah!". Khalil smirked at the bulldog-sized cat momentarily before taking Aria''s offered tea.


    "Additionally, we should ask him the rest of our questions." She murmurs. Lani blinks a few times as she''s handed her tea, seemingly confused.


    "The rest of our questions?"


    Lani starts to blow on the top of the tea, sending its scent on the faint wind in my direction. Aria dips her head and hands me the third of the four cups of tea, keeping the last for herself. Once she''s sitting back down, she speaks again.


    "I am sure we have a few that he will answer."


    Silas chuffs nearby and jumps onto the back of the wagon, conveniently curling up onto the lip of the step up to the back door and pointedly closing his amethyst-colored eyes. The constant attitude of that cat creature makes me smirk, and I shake my head while we sit around the already dying fire before I keep the conversation going.


    "Okay, let''s get our story right first, then we can talk over the questions-thing."


    Khalil takes a sip from his tea and then scratches the stubble on his face.


    "Yeah, alright, sure. So if we''re going to tell them the truth, which version are we giving?"


    All four of us sample our tea in a momentary pause of silence, each seemingly collecting our thoughts. Lani is the first to speak up.


    "We should tell them that we came across the branded wiretail that was way far away from anywhere that the Blackham folk ever are. At least then they''ll be able to see why we think Silas was telling the truth about the erratic seam that, you know, took out everyone in the vicinity of wherever it opened."


    I nod my head, agreeing with her.


    "Yeah, that''s good thinking. I think we should also mention that when we came up on the river, I could hear what was probably marmennlar singing drifting to us from further in the Wilds, off of the traveler''s path. I''d imagine that means the seam, wherever it did open, was more spotty than just one massive area."


    Aria continues to savor her tea while I speak, and only when I finish does she speak up again.


    "Yes. We must ensure they understand we saw signs of something wrong before we even reached the village."


    Having been quiet while the three of us spoke, Khalil finished his small cup of tea in a big gulp. He spit out a little twig, then used a small amount of water to swill out the cup.


    "Dude, we should just tell the rest exactly as it happened after we got there, except I kinda think we shouldn''t tell them that Silas came through the seam. They''ll want to ask him a ton of questions, and he might get mad about it and leave."


    Aria studies Khalil''s face and responds relatively quickly.


    "They will need to know he came through the seam; otherwise, they may not believe Silas speaks true. Cait sidhe are not exactly always believed by some of our kind."


    "Well, that''s stupid, sorry; if they''re not going to believe him telling us what happened, then how''s telling them he came through the seam going to change them believing him at all? Seems to me that they''ll think whatever information we got from Silas is going to be bullshit either way, so why not protect him at least some?" Khalil says, irritatedly shaking his head.


    Aria leans back and tips her cup behind her by a couple of feet, pouring out a couple of berries and leaves left in the bottom of her cup. She uses some of the water from her side-hooked flask to swill around in her cup like Khalil did before pouring the water to the ground on the fire embers between us. The embers sizzle in protest, but the fire that created them is only used to heat the tea kettle and is quickly put out by adding water.


    "You must tell them what Silas said. I do not believe they will want to keep or bother Silas for it. The weans might bother him some, but I believe they will be safe around him. He is congenial."


    "Like hell he is! You didn''t hear the shit he said on the road back this far!"


    Lani, Khalil, and I all laugh a little at Khalil''s exclamation, and I think I almost saw Aria titter for a moment¨Ca split second, really. It causes the faint, warm feeling from earlier in our journey to threaten to spread again in my face before I mentally bludgeon it down. Aria tilts her head at Khalil and raises an eyebrow.


    "Okay, fine. I concede." Khalil groans in response.


    Lani finishes cleaning her cup the same way the rest of us do, then looks over at Silas as she starts to stand up.


    "What should we ask him? Is Silas going to grant us some wishes?"


    "He is not a genie from a movie, Lani," Aria grumbles while pursing her lips. All three of us laugh at that, but Lani continues.


    "Okay, okay. But really though, I don''t know what we could ask¡­"


    She trails off as Silas stretches and hops down from the back of the wagon. He struts right over to us and sits beside Khalil before using one of his apple-sized paws to clean his dark, pitch-black face. The cat makes a little warble noise, drawing Khalil''s attention momentarily.


    "Silas says that Aladdin was a shitty movie. Obviously, I disagree with him; no movie with a song where people are singing on a magic carpet ride is bad. Besides, he''s like a bad attitude monkey that always hangs around. It''s pretty great."


    Aria slightly turns her head at a tilt, the same time I do. That was a weird thing to say. Khalil looks between Aria and me with his deep, kind eyes. Before I can even voice a "no, don''t," Khalil blurts out.


    "I wish you to stay with me, Silas; you''re fun as hell."


    "Oh dammit, Khalil, stop it." I groan and slap my forehead.


    Midway through cleaning his face with one paw, Silas stops moving, save for turning his head to look at Khalil with his vivid purple eyes. The working dog-sized black feline stretches his two front paws out in front of him, with his back end in the air. Silas'' black tail swishes a few times before he moves from that pose and walks over to lunge on top of Khalil''s lap. The cat''s size almost bowls over Khalil, who hasn''t gotten up like Lani and I and is still sitting on the wobbly makeshift wooden stool. I look at the rapid movement in shock but then realize the cat is just draping himself across Khalil''s lap.


    "Wait¨Cdid¡­ did that actually just work?" Khalil laughs boldly, "Oh snap, look who''s got a new cat-sith perma-friend!"


    The purposeful pronunciation makes Lani and I laugh at Khalil''s stupid joke, but Aria seems to miss it as she corrects him with a simple and forceful "cait sidhe" without laughter or humor in her voice.


    "Can I try?" Lani looks at me before rubbing her forehead a little. I shrug my shoulders in response.


    "I mean, sure, go ahead?"


    At my confirmation, Lani walks over and crouches down next to Silas, touching her hands to the large feline''s silky black fur.


    "Will you help Orion and me become better trained with our gifts?"


    I raise my eyebrows, having not expected that. The cat turns his head, focusing his amethyst-colored eyes on Lani. Silas'' ears lower slightly, and he hisses and spits momentarily. Aria, Lani, and I raise our eyes to Khalil, our wildlife translator.


    "Dude, rude. She''s playing by the rules." Khalil nudges Silas with his left hand.


    Silas hops off Khalil''s lap and knocks over his teacup with the landing. Instead of ignoring it, Silas slaps the fallen cup once with a paw¨Cthe cat growls and mrowls in response. Khalil leans over to pick up the cup before Silas can continue using it as a punting toy.


    "He says you asked for two things, and you only have one feather''s worth of request left."


    I lean back slightly, trying to parse that out. Lani is on top of it, though.


    "So, because Ori gave him three fletching feathers, we got to ask one question back at the other village. You requested he stay with you, so we have another thing to ask or request?"


    Khalil nods in response, which causes Lani to give Aria the side-eye.


    "Not a genie, huh, surrrre."


    Aria looks skywards rather than justifying that with a response. I snicker despite myself, then add in.


    "If you want to ask the same thing again, you can; it''s cool, Lani. Just drop my name off it, and you should be good, right?"


    Silas, busy staring daggers at the teacup being held by Khalil, doesn''t seem to react to the conversation we''re having around him. Lani touches her hand back to Silas again, and as she pets his fur, we can see the silken gleam of his relatively long fur highlight his animal musculature.


    "Okay, if you''re sure¡­" she continues without interjection. "I want you to help me learn and get better with my gifts, Silas. Will you do that?"


    There is a long pause of rigid non-movement from Silas. I initially thought he was simply ignoring Lani and focusing all his energy on "his" stolen teacup that Khalil is still holding hostage. However, I am wrong, and Silas spins slowly to focus wide eyes on Lani''s. As the slits of Silas'' eyes dilate, the cait sidhe makes a short spurt of noises at Lani, similar to when he accepted our question at the village in days past. Lani doesn''t move, and Silas steps closer, almost as if he has Lani locked in a trance. I nervously look towards Khalil, but he doesn''t look nervous, so I shift my gaze back to the feline and my half-elven, half-pixie friend as they have some stare-off.


    If I weren''t watching, I would have missed it. During the slight noises Silas makes at random intervals, the purple of his eyes grows more and more vivid, almost luminescent, in fact, by the time the cat is face to face, nose to nose with Lani. Her face initially reflects the dark neon hue that Silas is producing, but moments later, she starts to absorb the light from Silas through her own eyes. Her eyes change their color on the spot, from their airy-wispy blue color to the deep amethyst Silas typically has. I stand up immediately, concerned. Khalil stands as well, but it''s to hold out a hand towards me to stop me from advancing on them.


    "She asked him for it, Ori, chill. He''s granting her request, and it''s the only way they can communicate so she can learn and get his guidance. It''s okay."


    When Khalil stops me, I stop moving forward, but I most certainly look at Aria, trying to get her input. Instead of seeming concerned, she exhales air through her nose slowly.


    "Orion, give Silas another set of fletch feathers."


    I give her a stern look as if her being unconcerned is somehow a problem, but she doesn''t react in any particular way¨Cif anything, she continues to look at me, impatient that I''m not following her direction.


    "Fuck it, okay, whatever. If you guys think that was fine, then fine." I puff out loudly. Grumbling and walking, I head over to where we hung my quiver and bow outside the wagon but stop when Silas yowls and spits in my general direction.


    "Now what?" I grouse.


    "He says you''re an asshole for trying to use feathers on him again and refuses." Khalil guffaws. There''s a little pause where Silas makes a huffing noise before continuing to yawl and chitter. Khalil adds on; his animal translation skills on point.


    "Three to a customer; he says you should have given him more than three feathers at the beginning, among other things. But he says he''ll change his mind if you¨Cwhat? No. He''s not giving you the reafan, Silas. Shut up."


    "Yeah, sorry." Khalil looks at me apologetically.


    I shrug my shoulder and slip the arrow I intended to defletch to get the feathers in question back into the quiver.


    "We should have wished for him to speak normally," I mutter.


    Before too long, with all jokes aside and the conversation about our plan of arrival complete, we''re on the road again, leading the trading wagon and trailing it simultaneously. As we finished our journey back to our home village along the traveler''s path, Silas'' newest joy was jumping onto the wagon and climbing down the mules'' harnesses until he could lay down on one of their backs. All four of us call him lazy and laugh at his antics, but before long, we all lapse into amicable silence as we finish the last leg of our journey homeward. It isn''t long before we see the unadorned walls and decorations, plots of growing food and people working, guards patrolling while dogs and children play chase.


    Home, sweet home.


    As we draw up and through the front entrance to our village of assorted Wilder, I see a pair of large, metal-lined trading wagons painted with reds, greens, purples, and white designs parked near our village''s stables. The stables are where our more "valuable" or hard-to-obtain animals are maintained and are generally our first stop on arrival from a trading journey. Instead of blocking the pathway behind the two large wagons, we lead our two mules a cart''s length back and have them hold position. Along the sides of the wagons, I see the clear and present markings of a thin, regal, and muscular dog with large, bat-like ears standing alert¨Cthe general design that represents the Alvarado tribe. They raise dogs in the Wilds and often use them as trade chips with other tribes and sometimes Wilder villages like ours.


    As we come to a stop, I pat the side of one of the mules.


    "Silas, you might as well stay on the back of the mules for a few minutes. Let us sort out what we need to get sorted." I look around, seeing people coming in from nearby on their way towards us to see what goodies we''ve returned with.


    "Khalil," I quickly blurt to my best friend, "can you run interference? I''ve gotta see what''s going on with the Alvarado traders and see if they plan on moving soon. Don''t want folks to go poking through our wagon yet until we can report in."


    Khalil jogs up next to me from behind the wagon and nods.


    "Yeah, Ori, I got it. I''ll keep them back with a stick."


    He grins crookedly at me, but I know he''ll do it. As Khalil raises his hands above his head, he growls like a bear at an approaching elf-kin wean, then stomps towards them.


    "Arrrrghhh! I''m gonna get you!"


    I smile a little, noting how good he is with weans and everyone else. It''s his superpower, honestly. I depart, leaving Khalil to defend the wagon from miniature squealing interlopers and nosy adults.


    A few steps past the pair of trade wagons ahead of ours, I see the trading group inside the stables talking to Gallen, who essentially acts as our game warden and stable master. Gallen is relatively short and thin¨Chis nickname when he was a kid was "bean," like a beanstalk¨Cbut as he''s up there in age, he''s starting to show signs of it in the coloration of his hair. He always wears working clothes, with pockets everywhere, and usually has some degree of foreign substance dirtying up his clothing. Gallen ensures that all our village''s assorted working animals are appropriately taken care of. Some people have dogs for their family, but Gallen doesn''t see to those unless they need medical assistance. He mostly sticks to caring for the animals used to "get stuff done" in and around our place in the Wilds.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I hang around, waiting to catch Gallen''s eye. Once I do, I give him a little wave, and he grins in my direction before holding up a hand and one finger to tell me to give him a minute. I nod and, instead, look at the group of Alvarado. They don''t trade too often with Wilder, but it happens sometimes, and it looks like they''re trading a few dogs to Gallen, which means he was given an order (or orders) from people in the village. They seem to be disagreeing about what gender of the dog they''ll provide¨Ceither all males or all females¨Cbut I tune it out after a while and go instead to lurk next to one of our very, very few stabled work horses. I pick up a few sugar cubes to feed and pet the first one who comes up to the stall doors to get a treat.


    A little time passes, but finally, Gallen comes up to me. I didn''t see Aria or Lani depart anywhere, but I doubt they''re holding vigil next to our trading cart.


    "Hey, Orion. Welcome back. Glad to see you''re all safe. Hopefully, you guys didn''t have too much trouble?"


    I pat the horse again before moving away slightly to avoid getting nipped for more sugar cubes.


    "Eh, it was, well, let''s just say we need to talk with Jorge and Hannah before our story gets out."


    Gallen tilts his head both out of curiosity and a little bit of concern.


    "Oh man, that sounds bad? Should I be worried?"


    "No, no, probably not, it''s all good. Hey, look, uh, can we keep our cart here temporarily so people don''t get into it and mess around?" I smile while answering, trying to disarm him.


    "Yeah, sure; I mean, I''m not going to guard it or anything like that, but you can bring it in here, and I doubt anyone will mess with it while you guys go do your thing and talk with Jorge and Hannah." While he responds, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug.


    "Thanks, Bean," I add to be polite, even if he''s a little irritable.


    He mutters something additional about being too damn busy to guard a wagon, but I''m already backing out of the stables. I flag down Khalil and tell him to lead the mules into the stable and keep the wagon inside for now, then to meet me next to the area for the great Beltaine bonfire near the village''s center. Next, I catch up to Lani when I see her chatting with a couple of people, and she walks along with me as I head for the bonfire''s circle.


    "Hey, Ori, what''s the plan?"


    "Going to try and find Aria, then we''ll meet up with Khalil at the Beltaine bonfire." I slide my hands into my pockets as we stroll along. Lani seems fine with that plan, as well.


    "Aria went to the butcher''s. I can snag her, and we can meet you two there."


    I agree, and then I split off from Lani as she goes on to do just that. The village is bustling, and it''s nice to see my people again.


    Elven-kind like me, who feel the pull of the Wilds, sometimes forget the enjoyable aspects of being around others. I wouldn''t say I like crossing a seam into the human divide; there, the proper natural areas are often too far apart, and everything is simply too noisy. Just everything is too loud for me there, and I cannot wait to get back to our side whenever I go. One of the great things about seams is that they destroy any technological gadgets if people try to cross with them. Something about the magic of our lands unravels them and breaks them down to their base parts. Khalil disagrees. He always says he''d love to have a little music player and some headphones on this side, but I prefer it how it is.


    As I draw upon the area our village always uses for Beltaine, I rub the side of my face and realize that I''ve grown a bit of stubble from the journey. I''d never be able to get a beard like Khalil can get, but that''s okay. I don''t care for it¨Cit itches¨Cso as I watch Lani, Aria, and Khalil making their way up the path to where I sit, I try to remind myself to razor it off later when I can finally get a good soaking to wash away the travel grime.


    "Hey," I greet the trio as they catch up with me. Aria nods with Lani, and Khalil greets me back. "So, I have Gallen holding our wagon in the stables for now, but I think we probably should see Jorge and Hannah before we do anything else. They should know about the stuff¨Cyou know, we sorted out the story for this reason."


    All three of the others nod and agree without complaint, which makes for the quickest "round table discussion" we may have ever had.


    A few minutes later, our tired quartet is walking up to the large home of Jorge and Hannah, the de facto leaders of our Wilder village and settlement. They were the first to settle here, and although they''re old, they''re not in danger of keeling over anytime soon. Our lives go on different timelines, with so many different types of fey. Some age extra slowly, some have average human-like lifespans, and a few unfortunate types only live into their late twenties or early thirties.


    Hannah and Jorge''s home is more prominent than pretty much any of the other homes in our village. No one complains about its size; they built it and put in the work before there was ever even a village here. They even have carvings to decorate the wood and hammered metal used to construct the home. The designs could use a fresh coat of paint in many spots, but aesthetics like thick paint aren''t easy to come by unless you get them from one of the major towns or cities. In short, it''s pretty much never a priority on a trading run.


    After knocking on the front door, we take a few steps back to wait. The first thing we see is their pet reafan, Vox, who flies out of one of the open windows to land on a nearby awning. Seeing the bird reminds me of Silas, and that I also don''t remember seeing him on the back of a mule when Khalil went to move the trading wagon inside of Gallen''s stables. I sigh, which draws a look from Aria, but I shake my head as if to say, "Don''t worry about it." A few moments pass, and the reafan squawks at us, but the front door opens. With his weathered skin and bald head, Jorge stands there and looks out at us.


    "Aria! Orion, Khalil and Lani! Welcome back from your trip. You four must have just gotten back in. You look knackered. Come in, come in. Hannah is just finishing chatting with someone; I''ll fetch you four something to drink and eat while you wait."


    We don''t get a word in edgewise with the old gent, but it''s alright. His demeanor and friendliness make me feel welcome, as always. He holds the door open with his thick, rough hands¨Clong since callused by his years working metal and wood¨Cand waves us all into the first gathering room we see.


    The parlor is decorated with assorted plants, some moving as we walk inside. There is a small table, several seats, and a couch woven by still-living vines. The plant work is one of Hannah''s specialties and is quite beautiful to see. Technically, Hannah is a distant great Aunt on my father''s side or something, and she''s always been taken with me. So it was no real surprise that as I started to display my powers, they were always related to the Wilds. I don''t have the gift of working with plants like Hannah, but I can move, see, hear, and smell like animals and creatures of the Wilds, and sometimes, I can even control and act through the eyes of those creatures if I try hard enough.


    With everyone settled in to wait, Jorge returned to offer us food, some small square cookie treats called mikado, and flavored drinks before departing again. It''s an old tradition of hospitality; we know that Jorge and Hannah will see to our care while we''re under their roof. I scratch a little at the stubble on the side of my face again, the itching starting to irritate me. Lani draws my attention as she plays with a vine that is actively curling around one of her fingers while she strokes a leaf. Aria sits down and closes her eyes while Khalil busily gorges himself on the sweet treats.


    Sure enough, we soon see one of the Alvarado people departing ahead of Jorge and Hannah. They politely wish the man well on the trader''s journey, then close the door behind him. Jorge exhales slightly but then gestures toward us while we wait in the parlor''s sitting area. Hannah smiles on seeing me, and probably the others, too. While Jorge appears to be a hearty man with meaty hands, stout legs, and shoulders, Hannah is the opposite.


    Hannah stands almost as tall as the doorway and is wispy and thin, like Lani, with delicate features and physical attributes. While my ears are only narrowly tipped at the top, Hannah''s ears are long and pointed¨Cswept back almost as if they were drawn back with her long golden hair. Her eyes are the color of vivid blue topaz. She is everything humans would think of when they think of the classical elf-kin, and though she looks frail or delicate, all of us know that can change instantly should she ever so wish it. When she enters the room, the plants shiver, their leaves and branches trembling in anticipation. One gets the feeling, a vibe, really, of pure happiness. The flora is ecstatic to see Hannah.


    "Hello Orion, Lani, Aria and Khalil. Welcome back. It is good to see all of you still in good health."


    Despite myself, I smile, as do the others¨Cexcept for Aria, who dips her head exceedingly respectfully to Hannah and Jorge as he follows her into the room.


    "What brings you to our house today and so quickly? Surely, you''ve not had time to clean yourselves up or get a good meal."


    I glance at Aria, who Lani said was at the butcher''s, but then realize that probably isn''t important.


    "Hey, so we needed to come and see you both privately about what we encountered on our trade run. Something weird, maybe bad, had happened, and we didn''t want to announce it to the village or let them see the stuff we brought back yet until we talked with you two."


    Jorge brings two chairs from another room and sets one down for Hannah before taking his seat next to her.


    "Doesn''t sound good, not good at all," Jorge grunts.


    Hannah shifts her glance momentarily at Jorge, or at least I thought it was Jorge until she holds up a hand, and the reafan that stared us down outside flies inside to land on the side of her hand like a perfect perch. She touches long, thin fingers along the black and dangerous feathers. The reafan''s red eyes move from each of us as if trying to judge us.


    "Well¡­"


    And with that, I start to tell the story, not leaving out any of the parts, from the wiretail to the lack of all animals and life as we traversed the river¨Csave for the distant singing further in the Wilds. Khalil adds that the mules warned of the feeling of danger right before we crossed the river towards the village and were quiet after that. I tell them about the abandoned village and how it looked like people were taken in the middle of meals and other activities¨Calong with the animals. I hesitate for a few moments as I draw to the part of the story where we met Silas, and my hesitation draws an ever-so-slightly raised eyebrow from Hannah. Khalil also looks uncomfortable but fidgets and takes another treat to munch on to keep himself occupied.


    "When we went to the metal works¨Cwell, their smithy and carpentry area¨Cwhen we opened the door, a huge black cat ran out. Turns out it was a cait sidhe, as Aria told us."


    Jorge doesn''t react to that, but Hannah does. She''s pretty much the most wise of anyone in the village, so it doesn''t surprise me that she knows what it is. She brushes a small vine away that had grown towards her with her free hand that wasn''t still being perched on by the reafan.


    "A cait sidhe. Hmm. That is¡­ unusual. Where is it now?"


    I pause and start to make a noise that sounds like "errrr" as I try to think of how to answer. Luckily, Khalil interjects.


    "Well, he''s at my place right now. I kind of didn''t want too many questions about him yet. His name is Silas, and he''s cantankerous but also friendly-ish."


    I give Khalil a little look, and he raises his eyebrows.


    "What? I know words longer than two syllables sometimes, too, Orion."


    I roll my eyes and look back at Hannah, who has a mystifying expression.


    "Silas is his name, I see. And what did this Silas do?"


    I continue the story again, explaining how we asked a question after giving him some feathers at Aria''s urging, which then went into an explanation of why we came to the belief that it was an uncontrolled seam that opened and moved the entire village away somewhere. I finished the story by explaining that we decided to take items from the village before the place was looted and hoped it wasn''t a problem. I told Jorge and Hannah both that was why we had our trade wagon essentially hidden in Gallen''s stables until we talked with them about it.


    "How is looting their village for our village different from another village looting the same place for their village later?" Jorge inquires, clearly trying to follow our logic.


    I take a moment before I respond.


    "Well, the truth is, I guess it isn''t. But if they come back, maybe we can help them out. I just, I don''t know, I got this feeling while we were there that we wouldn''t see that village again or its people¨Cmaybe not ever. Obviously, if they show back up, I''d be first in line to help them get sorted out."


    "Did you also get this same ''feeling'' that Orion did, love?" Hannah looks from me to Lani. Lani brushes back some of her hair from her face before responding.


    "I don''t know that I got the same feeling, but the vibe wasn''t right there if that makes sense. It felt¨Cit felt¨C" Lani drifts off, trying to put words to feelings. Finally, she follows up. "¨CIt felt like one of those old stories from the bad times between the sun and moon ascendant tribes, where entire families trying to start villages would wind up missing, just gone. Yeah, I mean, if I think of it like that, I guess I got a feeling."


    Hannah tilts her head to acknowledge Lani before turning her topaz-blue eyes towards Aria and Khalil, clearly inquiring if they had anything to add. When it''s clear that neither of them does, Hannah turns her gaze back to me.


    "Thank you for taking care to sort this all out for us, Orion. That''s very mature of you."


    "If I''m honest, Aria helped a lot. We''d have probably done some pretty stupid stuff¨Cor made really bad decisions¨Cif she weren''t with us." I add, protesting a little that Aria didn''t get her due. Hannah stretches her lips slightly in a smile.


    "Yes, why do you think we always send someone with some experience and age with our trading groups? We can''t let our young people go off into the Wilds unprepared and unprotected; some are just completely unaware of what strange things might be waiting for them."


    I nod, not wanting to interrupt her.


    "I need to think about everything you''ve told us today. But, in the meanwhile, I assume Khalil is taking responsibility for the cait sidhe, Silas, yes?"


    "Yes, if that''s alright anyway." Khalil pipes up, as expected.


    Hannah gazes at him and inclines her head.


    "If he has chosen you, then he''s chosen you. You should feel quite honored."


    "Er, I should?" Khalil gets a slightly confused look on his face. That response causes Hannah to laugh¨Clovely and melodious.


    "Yes, silly. His kind tends to be, well, as you said, ''cantankerous,'' but also they are quite often troublesome. However, a few lucky individuals are essentially claimed by a cait sidhe and then find themselves with a relatively powerful familiar. So yes, congratulations."


    Khalil puffs up at the compliment, and I smirk.


    "However, you''re going to have to spend extra time making sure that he doesn''t choose to predate on our village''s animals."


    She strokes a finger down the back of the reafan on her hand as if to make a point. Khalil deflates a fraction.


    "Ah, yeah, that''s no problem. I''ve already had lots of conversations about that with Silas."


    "What about the Blackham wiretail?" Aria inquires, finally having leaned forward. Hannah refocuses on Aria once she has finally spoken.


    "I suppose we could send a letter to their town, but I''m not sure they would do anything about one wiretail when they have so many."


    Aria nods once, almost as though she is done talking, but she seems to think better of it and speaks again.


    "I understand this. What about the rider of the wiretail? It is possible that they were lost in the Wilds, and the wiretail could lead them to their Blackham tribe member. If it is missing, I mean. Telling them of this wiretail and the location may engender some positive feelings towards our village."


    Hannah whispers in our people''s language¨Cthe fey¨Cto the bird still perched on her hand. After which, she moves her arm out to encourage the reafan to fly away.


    "Vox, go."


    "Vox" protests with a couple of squawks but still takes flight and disappears through a window a few moments later. Once the bird has left the home, Hannah speaks again in the common tongue.


    "Vox will take our message to their city."


    The definitive way it was said makes Aria nod her head in thanks.


    "As far as the trade goods go¨C" Hannah pauses, which makes the four of us¨Cand Jorge¨Clean in closer as if to listen more closely. "¨CI believe it would be wise to say that you located a trio of wild reafans during your trip to the village. There, in that village, you traded two of the reafans to the village for all of the goods you brought back, which is why you''ve returned with so many items and the remaining reafan and all of their initial trade goods. You''ll return the initial trade goods to their original owners; Jorge will help with that since that will require a bit of oversight."


    Jorge nods but does not interrupt Hannah as she continues speaking.


    "As far as the rest of the trade goods go, outside of the gasoline¨Cwhich I''d imagine you made sure to get, being as you were sent there to trade for it¨C" She trails off, clearly looking for us to acknowledge that, which I do, so she continues. "Anyway, outside of the gasoline, have Merrill set up a trade expedition with the new goods once Jorge has helped you sort the original goods back to their owners. We''ll put any of the proceeds we get from the trade goods into the village''s overall coffers, to be fair to everyone."


    With a plan in place, I feel better. Exhaling, I stand, thinking that''s the end of the conversation.


    "Thank you for helping us sort through that mess."


    Lani and Aria both stand. Khalil shuffles over a little from where he had been standing in the room the whole time. Hannah smoothly rises from her chair, joined by Jorge. He picks up both of the chairs he''d brought in earlier for them to sit on and then shuffles away to take them back where they belonged, leaving Hannah with us.


    "No, thank you for telling us the whole story. It would have been easy to leave out pieces or fudge the truth."


    I smile at the acknowledgment of our trustworthiness and feel a little ball of warmth rest in my stomach.


    "Thank you all for coming. Please get yourselves cleaned up, and for graciousness sake, get yourselves a good, warm meal."


    Khalil, Lani, and Aria say their goodbyes and head out through the front door, weariness starting to settle in. We could all use a good, long sleep, that''s the truth. Before I can say goodbye and leave, Hannah pauses to stop me.


    "Orion, stay with me a few minutes before you go?"


    I run my hand over my face slowly, trying to wipe away my tiredness and refocus my mind.


    "Sure. What''s up?"


    She gestures for me to follow her, and so I do. We move through the main hallway of her home, and I pass paintings and other assorted things with vines and flowers, plants, and leaves all intertwined into beautiful structures, furniture, and sculptures. We walk in almost complete silence; the flooring of her place is a mossy carpet that muffles our movement. I almost wish I weren''t wearing shoes so I could feel it beneath my toes and on the soles of my feet like a wild elf. Finally, we make our way into what would only be considered a sunroom of some kind, with plants and open windows and several half-finished paintings next to two unfinished chairs. Hannah stops and turns towards me with a little smile.


    "My workshop. Where I come to think and, well, not-think."


    "It''s pretty nice." I grin back at her. She sits down in front of one of her unfinished paintings but chooses to look at me instead of the artwork.


    "I''m glad that you returned safely. I know perhaps more than most that the Wilds can be dangerous, but I can''t coddle you either. Your mother would curse me night and day if I did."


    My smile breaks a little. No one ever talks about my mother, especially not me. I don''t know exactly what to say, so I stand there mutely¨Cmaybe even dumbly.


    "Don''t worry, Orion, we won''t talk about her."


    My shoulders relax slightly, glad not to have to bring up that badness.


    "How are your powers coming along?"


    I slowly take a seat once I''m sure that the work-in-progress chairs aren''t going to crash and fall apart if I put my weight on one of them.


    "The sun helps them¨Cwhich you thought I would be aligned with. I''m still the best with being able to see and hear."


    "The two you use the most for hunting." Hannah placidly interjects.


    "Yeah," I agree. "I figured that was the case. Um, I''m not good with picking out scents, and I''m really not even sure if I can tell the difference between textures and feelings. Maybe it''s because I haven''t really needed to. Not working a loom or anything like that, you know, so I don''t get a lot of practice there."


    Hannah picks up one of the paintbrushes and slowly looks it over. I realize that the paintbrush has no old color on it, and neither do any of the others on her small table of them. Seeing that makes me a little sad, almost like it''s truly a shame she doesn''t have the pigments to paint beautiful things.


    "I guess that''s about it. Sometimes, I can ''take over'' smaller animals and see through their senses, but I can''t do it for long, and sometimes, it''ll give me a nosebleed."


    Hannah looks me over slowly before speaking again.


    "You''re fond of Aria."


    I splutter before I can catch myself.


    "Er, uh, I mean. She''s a good traveling partner. I always feel safe with her around?"


    Hannah raises an eyebrow as if she knows damn well that was a lie by omission. She laughs, though.


    "Mmm-hmm. May I give you some advice?"


    I quickly nod my head, happy not to have to stumble over my words for that moment.


    "You know she''s moon-aligned."


    I nod again, feeling a bit like a bobblehead and not seeing where she''s going with this. Plenty of the fey in our village are moon-aligned. We got past that drama a long time ago in the fey world¨Cthe bad times were bad¨Ceverything''s appropriately sorted out by the tribes now. So now there''s no drama. Hannah mentioning it makes me feel a little uncomfortable, though.


    "Uh, yeah. She''s a great night guard to have."


    My discomfort doesn''t bleed away, as I''m unsure where our conversation is going.


    "Yes, she is. Be careful, though."


    This puzzles me so much that I don''t know what to say. Hannah sighs softly before setting down the paintbrush again.


    "Your mother was like you, originally. Carefree, good-natured, a little rapscallion. It''s what drew your father to her despite her moon leanings."


    Hannah talking about her like she''s dead, which she isn''t at all, makes me even more uncomfortable.


    "But her problem was she took to the wrong person who was also moon-aligned. Took her down the wrong path, and we know how that went."


    A little flitting of anger rises indignantly in my chest.


    "Aria isn''t someone who''s taking the ''wrong path.'' She''s loyal and honest, and if I did¨Cif I were fond of her¨Cit''d be my business. It wouldn''t affect me like it did her. She was crazy, I''m not."


    Hannah raises her hands as if to cool my rising temper. It doesn''t help, but I do stop talking.


    "Orion, Orion. I am not chastising you or telling you what to do. If it would make you happy to be with her and her happy to be with you, then you should be happy. I want you to be careful with all of the choices you make. Someone has to look out for my youngest nephew."


    Her saying as much dampens my rising rage, and I exhale to release the tension.


    "Sorry, you know how I get about¡­ her."


    She nods in response, then slowly stands. She touches a hand to my face, thumbing over the faint stubble.


    "I know. It took me a very long time to not feel the same."


    She drifts off but follows it up with a faint, joking voice.


    "Trying to be the first elf-kin from our family tree with a beard?"


    I blurt out a laugh.


    "I don''t think I could even if I let it grow for years. I''m going to razor it off tonight, though. It itches like crazy. I don''t know how people deal with it."


    Hannah smiles at me once more and drops her hand to her side.


    "Go on, Orion, go be with your friends. Get yourself some food and rest. We''ll talk another time."


    I exhaled and thanked Hannah before letting her walk me to her front door. As I leave her house, my shoulders slump slightly, and it hits me just how hungry and tired I am. Without wanting to do anything else, I brainlessly followed Hannah''s order and set out to the Forgetful Fox to get a meal before I head home and clean myself up and rest.


    Home, sweet home, indeed.

 Chapter 6: The Guests

    Determining the original owners of various trade goods takes a few days. Jorge helps immensely to keep some degree of order, but there are still expected mild quarrels over ownership. Still, it gets sorted out in a reasonable amount of time, and any discontent or anger fades away when people of the village see all of the trade goods we unload from inside our trading cart, let alone what we stuffed into our pocket storages where we could find room. Seeing the shock and surprise on people''s faces makes me, in turn, feel good¨Ceven though I probably shouldn''t, given what we think happened to the goods'' previous owners. But still, there is something to be said about the feeling of being a provider or an aid who isn''t afraid to travel for our village.


    When we''d finished sorting out the original trade items, Merrill announced herself and was left with just the new, freshly unloaded spoils. Merrill is one of the highest energy fey I''ve ever encountered; her vivid red hair is naturally in almost always wild ringlets, framing her face no matter the circumstance. She came to our village a few years ago and positively impacted the village as our leading trader. She speaks faster than anyone I''ve ever met, which doesn''t slow no matter who is at her trading shop.


    "OR-I-ON!"


    The high-pitched voice makes me slightly smile despite feeling gritty and rough from sweat. I wipe my arm across my face and turn in the direction that Merrill''s voice came from.


    "Hey, Meri."


    She prances up in front of me and starts to take stock of all the goods we''ve pulled out and piled up.


    "Wow, they said you brought home a lot, but I didn''t realize it was holy-crap-a-lot. This will be a lot to sell and trade."


    "Well, I''ll leave this in your more capable hands."


    I give her a little bit of a smile, tired as I am, trying to extricate myself from being drawn into a long conversation. I''m just looking forward to getting food and something cool to drink. Merrill clears her throat as I move away. I slowly turn around to see what she wants, and she gives me a lopsided grin with a hint of mischievousness.


    "What?"


    "I heard," her lips twist into a hopeful grin, "you guys found some wild reafans, traded two, and brought another back. Do you think you could convince Gallen to let me have it? You know, for trading purposes."


    "Come on, Meri," I groan. "I don''t make those decisions. You know who does." Everyone wants a reafan for one reason or another. Merrill huffs, and for a moment, I even thought she''d put her hands on each hip. She doesn''t, but she does churlishly mutter in response.


    "Everyone knows you can convince Hannah to do stuff around here. She adores you. Probably because you''d rather be in the forest like she would be."


    "That isn''t true at all. I don''t influence decisions; I go where they ask me to and hunt for the village. I like it that way." I give her a look, suggesting I''m not too fond of the implication of special treatment. Rather than get sucked into a disagreement with Merrill¨Cwhich could wind up going on for hours¨CI hold my hands up.


    "I need to get some food and drink. I''m dying over here. I''ll let you get back to checking out all the goods we brought back. Jorge is holding the gasoline, so if you want any of the village''s stores, you''ll have to take it up with him."


    "Ugh, fiiiiiiiine." She whines at me in response, sounding far more childish than she is. I turn, unaffected by her attempts to convince me, and continue to the Forgetful Fox, our village''s only food and drink spot.


    Hours later, well-fed and watered, I find myself bartering for duck feathers from an old egg tender to make more arrows and prepare for¡­ well, whatever. I don''t need to make more arrows, but making them with my hands genuinely soothes my mind. I can blank out entirely and just focus on the craftsmanship of each arrow I make. Sure, I could quickly get some from the human world by bartering with someone who regularly goes through seams, or I could get some the next time I go through one myself, but something about making my own truly resonates with my soul, for lack of a better phrase.


    I keep my face even as the woman I''m bartering with starts acting up in arms at my offer; it''s a time-honored tradition to barter for goods, with all the tips and tricks that come with it. After a while of a back and forth, I let the woman "talk me into" the price I''d already figured I''d pay, and as we sorted out the agreement, I could hear a disturbance nearby coming from the front of the village. I tell the woman I''ll be back to pick up the duck feathers later before jogging towards the noise of people from the village.


    I come to a dead stop as I round the nearest corner to me, where I can see directly towards our village''s entrance. There, at the open gates, is a sight I didn''t think I''d ever see in our nothing village. I''m struck stupid for a moment, but then I realize many of our people with bows, knives, and metal tools are slowly appearing around. From my belt I get the only thing I have available¨Ca simple whittling knife¨Cjust in case it''s needed. Just a few feet from the entrance are six separate wiretails with riders. My eyes are likely wide as saucers¨Cand I see plenty of others with the same reaction. Some part of me knows this is Aria, Lani, Khalil, and my fault, and immediately, I assume the worst¨Cthat we''ve done something that will cause us to be attacked.


    The wiretails are adults, all with lightly armored leather and fine cloth riding saddles, though the seats and designs for each are faintly different¨Clikely chosen by the riders for comfort. As the wiretails look left and right, some stalk back and forth as if waiting for a command to attack. From where I stand, I can see the branding on their hindquarters, which marks them as owned by the Blackham tribe. The riders¨Cwith their layered light leather pieces on top of undershirts from human stores¨Care from the Blackham. As far as I can recall in my lifetime, we''ve never had one of the elite tribes that have their own cities visit us at our village; occasionally, we get traders from some of the wealthier tribes'' towns, like the Alvarado, but I can count on my hands how often that has happened.


    Finally, the front-most rider on a wiretail¨Cblack with orange and brown markings that travel horizontally down its sides towards its black, bristling tail¨Csteps down from the back of the beast. No one is attacking, but neither is anyone speaking so far that I can tell. I start slowly moving toward the gathering, even though I''m barely armed. Having sharpened my eyesight instinctively, I study the details of the rider who had first stepped down to the ground as I draw nearer.


    The rider is a tall man with pale skin and¨Cunsurprisingly¨Cblack hair, which is typical for the Blackham people. His hair is pulled back with a severe braided design, exposing ears that are only faintly tipped towards a point. He wears properly fitting, quality dark clothing underneath the few pieces of leather armor he''s wearing. It takes a while, but I finally realize that if this were a planned attack, they would undoubtedly be wearing something more protective¨Cand the wiretails would probably be killing us all. There''s that too.


    On his right shoulder and strapped over his right bicep is a "scaled" and dyed black pauldron, with overlapping layers and leather folded spikes studded to each layer. It''s far more intimidating than protective, giving him the look of someone who wouldn''t necessarily be against violence should it arise. His hands are gloved, and around his waist is a thick black leather belt, slightly side-slung with a small quiver of crossbow bolts within grasping range. In the front and center is the symbol of the Blackham tribe: a golden insignia of a snarling wiretail, highlighted with some details in indigo.


    Now close enough to hear, I realize there''s a low conversation between one of the guards and the man. I let my eyesight fade to normal and instead look between the standoff. Around that same time, Jorge stalks with malevolent purpose to the front, carrying an ornate hammer half the size of his legs, with a thick sledgehammer head attached. I''ve never seen him carrying something like it, which concerns me greatly. Gripping my puny, whittling knife more tightly, I watch Jorge stop within a handful of paces from the pale man. The other five riders are still on their wiretails, which are growling and grumbling with some degree of irritation¨Clikely at being held in place against their will. I catch a glimpse of Khalil passing behind one of the squat buildings, but he doesn''t see me.


    My attention returns to the drama unfolding front and center, and I listen as Jorge speaks with unrestrained anger.


    "What business do you have here, bringing those half-wild beasts into a village with weans and the old?!"


    I don''t know why I expected Jorge to be passive because his voice bristles with enmity. It''s hard for me to weigh what I know of him¨Cthe kind, compassionate man and Hannah''s chosen¨Cagainst what I see now. He looks ready to use that battle-ready sledgehammer at his side, and his voice has an undercurrent of genuine menace. The pale rider immediately focuses on Jorge, correctly assuming that Jorge is a leader within the village.


    "Apologies, sir, truly. We were sent here immediately after receiving word from your village via reafan. We''ve been moving for two nights straight, and frankly, I made a poor judgment call of riding directly to your entrance."


    Jorge does not look mollified, and his voice is still laced with the venom of anger.


    "Apologies? That is all? I would have expected more from the mighty Blackham tribe."


    He lifts his sledgehammer and slaps its shaft into his other hand''s palm to emphasize his point. The gesture makes some riders tense up, and their wiretails growl and snarl at the object of attention: Jorge. I start to get a terrible feeling that this is about to get out of hand when another, cooler voice interjects.


    "Gentlemen. Let''s calm our tempers." Hannah continues speaking, walking past me and towards Jorge without breaking eye contact on the scene before us. "Clearly, there has been a little lapse in politeness, but we can all be civil here, can we not?"


    I shuffle forward so that I''m nearly standing directly next to Hannah. She turns her head slightly and gazes directly at me, ignoring the tiny whittling knife I grip.


    "Orion, fetch Khalil, Lani, and Aria. Return to my house with them. Along the way, send Gallen to the front here and have him see to the wiretails of our guests."


    Her tone, different than normal, brokers no disagreement. Not that I would, but I feel compelled to move when the words leave her lips. I tear my eyes away from the scene and slide my whittling knife away. Once done, I turn and jog in the direction I had spotted Khalil shortly before. After collecting him and finding Lani not far off, we three track down Aria, who we assume is sleeping in her small, simple cottage in the quieter area of our village.


    The area Aria''s place is located in is essentially where all of the moon-aligned fey have chosen to have their homes; the segregation isn''t forced, it just simply happened organically, and their area is quite cool and shaded with large, thick trees that have been encouraged to grow their boughs large and for shelter from the sun. While Lani knocks on the door, Khalil and I stand by, chatting about what we saw. With Aria in tow shortly after that, I tell them we''re supposed to go and wait at Hannah and Jorge''s home. I break away, explaining I need to tell Gallen to head up from the stables to the front gate and that I''ll meet up with them right afterward.


    It doesn''t take long to convince Gallen. If anything, he looked pretty excited to be able to temporarily stable wiretails and interact with them. Since the group of Blackham meant to come to Hannah and Jorge''s home, I waited for them at the stables. I don''t particularly want to have conversations with them, and they seem to have the same mindset regarding me.


    Nevertheless, I offered to take them to Jorge and Hannah''s house so they wouldn''t have to ask for directions. They agreed, and I set out in the lead. As we walk, the pale man who initially spoke with Hannah introduces himself as "Corporal Kline" and his second in command as "Cass" (undoubtedly short for Cassandra).


    Cassandra appears as a pale and creamy-skinned young woman with frosty, pale-golden hair braids, seafoam-colored eyes, and a wiry-type physical build. Her ropey, compact muscles look like she has trained to survive the elements rather than following a weight-lifting routine. Cassandra doesn''t say anything when she''s introduced, but she shakes my hand when I offer to do so. Her unexpectedly cold grip is far stronger than I could have anticipated based on her size, and her pale, seafoam eyes feel like they could transfix me with or without my input. I retrieved my hand quickly and pointedly put space between us again during the walk.


    The walk to Hannah and Jorge''s home is a little awkward, with no one speaking from their group, but Cassandra''s eyes focus intently on me each time I glance back in their direction as they follow me. It continues to make me deeply uncomfortable, though I don''t want to show that it does, so I don''t tear my eyes away each time she locks them and instead try to make the gazing away seem casual. I feel as though I''m locked in a staring contest with a predator.


    Finally, we make our way up to the house''s front door, and I jog up the steps and knock on the front door ahead of the six Blackham behind me. I don''t even have time to glance behind me at the others before a vine opens the door. The flowering vine hovers in the doorway for a few moments, seeming to have woven itself in the faint outline of Hannah''s face¨Cit''s strangely clear that it''s inviting us all in on her behalf¨Cbefore slowly winds itself away along a painting''s frame on the wall. A faint chortle behind me lets me know they all saw the door greeter, so I head inside, looking through doorways as I follow the mossy hallway corridor.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Unlike when Khalil, Aria, Lani, and I visited Hannah and Jorge after our trader trip, most of the vines and flowers seem to be in bloom. The sweet and welcoming scents threaten to carry me away, but I fight down the pleasant feeling. I don''t know who the Blackham are or what they want¨Cfor all I know, they might want to take the four of us involved in the trade run back to their town for questioning. The thought of that hardens my resolve, and as I lead them into the sprawling backyard of Jorge and Hannah''s home, I''m confident that I won''t have my thoughts wander from the task at hand.


    Hannah, Jorge, Lani, Aria, and Khalil are seated at a long table woven from thin trees and thick, curling vines. I denote Jorge still looks somewhat angry and hostile, while the others range from indifferent to nervous. Hannah slowly raises a hand from her side and gestures at the seats at the table.


    "Please, all of you, sit. We already have some small food and drink for those who wish to partake."


    Hannah''s calm blue eyes slide across the Blackham before settling on "Cass" for a few moments longer than the rest. She doesn''t add anything, though, instead looking away from the other woman.


    I shuffle ahead of the group, happy to be within closer range to the people I know than the Blackham guests. Kline, followed by Cassandra and then the other four of their group, take a seat at the long table, not seemingly interested in playing nonsense games about who takes what chair. I sit beside Lani, with one open seat on my other side. Across from me directly settles in Cassandra, who pierces me with another intense look. It''s quite distracting, so I purposely stare back at her until Lani nudges me with an elbow. Kline and the others take some food and drink, except for Cassandra, so I do as well to fit in.


    "What''s her deal with you?" Lani murmurs, leaning towards my ear.


    I shake my head slightly as if to say I have no clue. Lani purses her lips and leans back, then takes a sip from her sweet berry tea, stealing a more extended glance at Cassandra over the rim. I suddenly felt the strangest thought: I hadn''t heard Cassandra talk to this point, so maybe I was the one being rude because she was mute or something. Cassandra seemed to smirk right at the moment of my thought, and I narrowed my eyes ever so slightly. That seems to be the key; she shifts her gaze from me towards Kline and then on to Hannah.


    While Kline and Hannah have a two-person conversation, with the occasional Jorge interjection, I sip at my berry tea and nibble a little at the food on the table. I keep catching myself looking at Cassandra and her physical attributes without realizing I''d started doing it. Just little touches of her body angles flicker across my mind''s eye, making me want to keep stealing glances at her. Some part of me wants to kick my own ass, and another part of me is wondering if my brain is trying to make me get my ass kicked. First Aria, and now Cassandra, whom I have yet to speak, know nothing about, and probably don''t even rank with on a scale of one to five? I reach up and rub one of my temples while closing my eyes. The half-hearted massage feels pretty good, so maybe I just need sleep.


    It isn''t until a vivid hallucination of some sort crosses behind my eyes that I start to suspect some weirdness going on: Cassandra holding her lips to my jawline and throat, pressing me against one of the walls of Hannah''s home, with her fingernails scratching at and just underneath the bottom of my old tee along my abdomen. I open my eyes and the¨CVision? False memory?¨Cfades away just like a dream. Cassandra is looking intently at me once again. Yep, she''s fucking with me somehow, I can feel it, she just has to be. I cross my arms and glower at her.


    If it makes any difference to her, I can''t even tell. She blinks her startlingly seafoam eyes once, then looks straight back at Hannah and Kline as they debate something about the Deore. I realize I haven''t even the slightest idea of what they''ve spoken about before this point, having been so thoroughly distracted by Cassandra. I shift my weight on my seat uncomfortably, trying to will the heat to bleed out of my cheeks and my brain to return to normal function.


    "Well, perhaps the lost wiretail will give you some clue as to where your associate went. Or was forced off at, I suppose, if we''re sticking to the ''random'' seam theory."


    Voices jut in, bringing me finally back to the present. Kline shakes his head, having leaned back in his seat and taken a more comfortable seating pose for discussion.


    "Even if we could talk to the beast, which we can''t¨C"


    Hannah snaps her fingers once, interrupting Kline.


    "Khalil can. He will assist you."


    "Ergh¨C" Khalil choked on the tea he was sipping. "Wait, what?" When Hannah gives him an intensely blank look, he clears his throat and murmurs demurely. "Yeah, alright. Sure. I can do it. I mean, I''ve never talked with one before, but I''m pretty sure I can, uh, probably."


    The pale man, Kline, exhales once while looking at the other Blackham sorted out at the table. Most of them aren''t paying attention, and outside of Cassandra, they have had food and drink (with refills on both).


    "Alright, so we can speak to the beast, assuming Khalil can do so. We''ll test with him on one of ours before we leave your village."


    Khalil loses a little luster when they''re talking about being so close to wiretails. I don''t blame him; they''re scary as hell. Kline continues speaking, seemingly unaware of the borderline anxiety attack Khalil is experiencing in silence.


    "Once we''re sure he can do that, we''ll follow the traveler''s path back to the more or less approximate location where your two people, Orion and Khalil, encountered the feral wiretail. We have trackers, two in fact, and you''ve mentioned that Orion regularly hunts and tracks for your village, so we should have no trouble locating the beast if it''s still in the same general area."


    I realized then that I must have been "voluntold" to do that sometime during my recent hallucination episodes like Khalil just was.


    "We find the feral, speak with it, and collect it from the Wilds so that it does not have the potential chance to harm anyone else. A straightforward goal, unless anyone else has an opinion?"


    "What are your intentions with the information potentially gained from this ''feral'' wiretail?" Aria speaks flatly after leaning forward slowly.


    Eyes shift from Aria to Kline. He smiles, and it''s a smile that isn''t friendly in the slightest. Of course, he doesn''t realize Aria is a redcap, so a grizzly bear in her face wouldn''t scare her, and it makes the little fake smile before whatever he''s about to say a little humorous to us who know that little factoid.


    "Our intentions are to collect information and return to Blackham City, and I don''t believe we need to keep your village involved any more than it already has been. Wouldn''t you agree?"


    "I agree that you''re a pretentious prick, sure." Jorge spits.


    I suck in my lips in an "o" face before I can stop myself. Hannah puts a hand on Jorge''s shoulder.


    "Jorge, my beloved, why don''t you take Lani and Aria out front? I can finish up here. Kline, would you mind sending some of your people out front to wait a few more minutes as well?"


    Kline''s eyes narrow, but when Jorge, Lani, and Aria start to stand and move, he nods a little.


    "Cass, stay. The rest of you can go outside and wait out front. We''ll join you all shortly."


    The four Blackham stand up, and two of them pointedly go out of their way to thank Hannah in a profoundly¨Cand unexpectedly¨Crespectful manner for her hospitality. After bowing their heads to her, they touch two fingers to the center of their foreheads. The other two walk out as commanded, while those two elves that spent the extra few moments paying respect to Hannah finally turn to follow them a little behind their pacing.


    "Now then," Hannah starts again, "a little less hostility and a little smaller of a gathering makes for better discourse, wouldn''t you say?"


    Hannah loosely folds her arms across her abdomen, her eyes searching out Cassandra momentarily before returning her gaze to Kline. Kline lifts his shoulders in what is supposed to be a noncommittal shrug, but seeing those two pay deeper respects to Hannah with no explanation seems to have put him a little off his game. Perhaps he just assumed we were all yokel Wilder like most villages of our kind tend to be.


    "Mmm. Sure. I still don''t see the benefit of sharing any information we gain. At best, it will just cause an inconvenience if your villagers are poking around and getting themselves into any trouble. At worst, perhaps whatever happened in that area will happen again, and some of your people will be lost."


    Hannah tilts her head ever so slightly.


    "Ah, so this is a precautionary measure? How very kind of you to think of our village."


    She says it, and it almost sounds genuine, but it''s most definitely not authentic. Kline isn''t fooled either, which probably was Hannah''s intention.


    "Okay. Okay. Our orders were to gather intelligence and return. We were specifically told not to share information."


    Cassandra leans forward, and for the first time since they''ve arrived, she speaks in a dulcet tone, immediately reminding me of the beautifully dark-tinted voice of the lady who sings that Smooth Operator song.


    "Kline, that''s enough sharing of our intentions here, I think."


    Hannah shifts her gaze towards Cassandra.


    "Hello, I didn''t catch your name?"


    "Cassandra. Unfortunately, I was introduced as ''Cass'' earlier in the evening, but only people who spend a great deal of time with me should call me that." Cassandra answers.


    Kline looks suddenly withdrawn, like a peacock who has been startled and has hidden his plumage.


    "Cassandra, then. Am I right in assuming that you''re leading the group?"


    Cassandra shakes her head once.


    "No. I''m with them for another reason. I work for another individual." She glances momentarily at Kline before speaking again. "We simply work together a lot. It''s also part of a separate agreement with his superior to remind him of certain things occasionally. Enough about me, though. Please continue your discussion."


    I can''t help but stare at Cass¨Cor Cassandra¨CI remind myself since I haven''t spent time with her (though I''d prefer Cass, my brain yells at me). Luckily, having engaged Hannah and Kline in conversation, she doesn''t seem to notice my staring at her. Her ears aren''t pointed even slightly, so she''s not elf-kin. Her seafoam eyes don''t seem to be tinged with any red or anything else that would tell me what sort of fey she might be, so now, of course, my brain has decided it''s a great mystery to be solved. Hannah''s voice floats in from seemingly far away while I study Cassandra.


    "I will send Khalil and Orion with you under the condition that you share any information you glean about an erratic seam with them, who will then share it with only me in this village. It is non-negotiable."


    Kline looks at Cassandra, who nods, so he nods.


    "Alright then. I''m glad we could work this all out. Anything else?"


    I broke my stare from Cassandra when I realized the meeting was about to end. I clear my throat and take a drink from my now tepid berry tea. The noise of my throat clearing draws everyone''s attention, so I weakly murmur.


    "Dry throat. Sorry."


    Hannah seems amused by that ending to the discourse, and Khalil appears to have finally controlled his anxiety attack. Kline pushes up from the table and stiffly turns to leave, but Cassandra slowly rises. She doesn''t stretch, but for some reason, her smooth movements remind me of a hunting animal slowly measuring up a path to take. I realize my instincts are trying to override my little head''s attempt at direction and give me a huge warning sign above Cassandra''s head. She may be the most dangerous person in that entire group, and I haven''t the faintest idea what she could be. I can''t help it, though; my physical feeling is unreasonably intense¨Calmost to the point of absurdity. I watch her as she leaves, not moving from my place at the table.


    "Might as well go with them and find out if you can speak with wiretails. I''m sure you''ll be fine." Hannah murmurs to Khalil. Khalil apprehensively agrees, then shows himself out, leaving me alone with Hannah.


    "Careful, Orion."


    "Yeah, I know." I sigh. I don''t turn my head to look at Hannah because I already know what it''s about. She tuts a little, rising from her chair and walking to where I sit. She brushes a hand across my shoulder, then leans down.


    "No, you don''t know." Hannah''s voice is more challenging than usual, which draws my attention. I look at her, and she studiously looks at me in response. "You''re of the age where you and your friends start to sow your wild oats, as it were." I start to protest, but her grip on my shoulder tightens, and I understand this is one of those times I''m not to interrupt.


    "But you might have realized that nothing you could do would work against her. Not even basic readings of emotional states." Again, I continue to be quiet, though I do lower my eyes, as I don''t have the courage to stay in a lock-eyed stare with Hannah. "Why do you suppose that is?"


    "I¨CI don''t know." I shake my head, unable to give her a good answer.


    She steps back and uses her hand on my shoulder to help me rise from my seat. She finally releases her not-quite-vise grip and walks to the other side of the table. She gestures wordlessly at the living chair Cassandra had chosen to sit in. After I walk over to see what Hannah is gesturing at, I stop and gape. The chair Cassandra had been sitting in was absolutely dead. The mossy covering of the ground is even withered and curled in just about the area where her feet rested while she sat.


    "What the hell?!" I blink in shock, not concealing it at all. Hannah shakes her head disappointedly.


    "Now, now, you know this. Just think about the lessons you learned before we let you roam and hunt the Wilds freely."


    I carefully inspected the table where Cassandra had rested her hands on the wood. There were no marks, but the wood on the tabletop was no longer alive.


    "Some kind of a leech of life?"


    Hannah doesn''t respond verbally, but she raises an eyebrow.


    "Oh, wait. Shit. No way. Why would a vampire be here in the Wilds, traveling with Blackham folks of all people?"


    Hannah nods her head once at me, seemingly pleased at not having to tell me the answer and in my follow-up question.


    "That is a good question. They normally stick to the human world for obvious reasons, such as food. Occasionally, they find their way here since our ''sun'' isn''t the sun that destroys them. As far as I know, it is only a mild annoyance, similar to how it is for the night creatures of the deep Wilds. You won''t find them generally near the Aurora tribe''s Shining City, though. I wasn''t aware of any accepted into one of the more organized tribes. Obviously, she is accepted as Blackham in some way based on being given a wiretail to ride, but she made it clear she doesn''t serve Kline, which makes me curious about whom she does serve."


    She drifts off a little with her words before looking back at me.


    "Anyway, that isn''t very important, and speculating about why or who regarding her doesn''t do us any favors, especially when we likely won''t re-encounter her after all this is sorted out. Now then, it''s not my business with whom you get involved, but be very careful of her kind. They aren''t trustworthy; they will not usually agree to anything. If you manage to get them to agree to something, you had better carefully word your agreement terms."


    I''m just looking at Hannah, but I''m not really sure what to make of it all.


    "Oh, and don''t share blood with her."


    I start to protest, but she cuts me off with a shake of her head.


    "Mm-mm, no. We''re not having a debate. I said my piece; you''re grown enough to decide on your own paths, Orion."


    She waves a hand lightly, gesturing me away from her without our normal affectionate departure; I feel guilty for the first time in a while, and I don''t even know why.

 Chapter 7: The Summons

    Tallulah watches the last vestiges of the daytime sun slowly fade behind the tops of the pine and sweet gum trees that make the landscape of the mountainous region. She''d already bathed¨Cin an uncomfortably small tub with only a thin plastic curtain for privacy¨Cand eaten, seen to some concerns of her people, and was now simply waiting for the shoe to drop in the evening. She is moon-ascendant, which is typically a benefit at night, except when your captors are also essentially moon-aligned creatures. Tallulah is also reasonably confident that even if all of the fey got together to cause problems, they''d still be outnumbered and quite literally outgunned.


    She had seen Elijah moving about the area a few times since she rose for the evening, but neither she nor he acted as though they had anything to say to each other. Micah, on the other hand, had personally seen to the guard shift change, and with the darkness of the night arriving in force, Tallulah could see the pallid skin of some of the newly arriving guards more clearly¨Cthe vampires do, in fact, have some people acting as night guards. There is some commotion when the giant, nearly pony-sized dog beasts are brought out from the house. Despite their enormous pure size and viciousness, Tallulah sees them sprint and chase each other off into the distance when they''re put out beyond the first internal security perimeter fence. They''re still dogs, she muses, and dogs have weaknesses. It was just a little factoid that wound up filed away for potential usage later if ever there was the need.


    Christina, the dark-skinned, long-cornrowed, tattooed, and ritually scarred beauty, is the first arrival of the vampires from the night before that she recognizes. Tallulah watches as Christina approaches Micah just outside the barn, and they have a sedate conversation. It only takes a few moments for Tallulah to realize there is some degree of resemblance there. Perhaps Christina is one of those "living relations" Elijah mentioned.


    As if she knew Tallulah was peering at her, Christina turns her head mid-word with Micah and openly surveys Tallulah. Tallulah doesn''t offer a smile¨Cneither does Christina, for that matter¨Cand the pair gaze at each other for a few moments. Christina breaks eye contact, and she does so by looking back at the guard, Micah, before brushing a hand across his shoulder and moving away. Sure enough, with Micah looking after her, Christina makes her way toward Tallulah. A few seconds later, she arrives with only a momentary silence.


    "Good evening. I was asked to see if you are ready to meet the liege lord."


    Christina''s voice doesn''t modulate from high to low, so if anything, someone might think she''s bored. Tallulah slowly pulls back some of her silver and gray hair from her shoulders, then responds.


    "I''m fine with going and speaking to your leader, yes." After speaking, Tallulah moves away from the place she had been leaning at the end of the barn, and Christina takes the cue to lead them toward the massive manor''s side entrance.


    The walkways towards the elevated home were lined and laid out with stone she had seen naturally on the long walk from the glade to here, where her village is now essentially a captive of this group of vampires. The home''s stone, metal, and timber frame, as well as landscaping, is picture-perfect. Night-time gardeners and assorted landscapers move around the home, maintaining it without any interference from the guards. The massive windows on the home are ideally placed to allow those inside the home to see down into the valley, elevated as they are. It occurs to Tallulah that if this had not been the placement of a homestead mansion, this easily could have been a hilltop lookout or fort for past wars. Interestingly, the home itself isn''t modeled after European chateaus or palazzos but has a distinct mixed rustic and American feel.


    Tallulah tries to absorb as much detailing as she can as they walk up the engraved stone stairs. The favored motif for design seems to revolve around bears. Again, Tallulah thinks back to her initial impression of their location. While not conclusive at the time, the fact they are in rolling hills with pines and assorted trees like the sweet gums and oaks, with carvings of bears and the hint of southern twang in the voices of some of the younger-looking living guards, she is reasonably confident that they are somewhere in the southeast of America, and in fact in the Appalachian mountains. Not that it matters, but trying to visualize where they might be helps Tallulah feel she might be able to figure some way out for herself and the other faeries.


    Christina pauses at the doorway before reaching forward and resting her hand on what previously just appeared to be a dark polished stone. As it turns out, it seems to be a high-tech security reader of some kind, and after verifying Christina''s access, the door hisses slightly and unlocks. Serious security, Tallulah realizes. Initially, the door looked completely normal, but as they passed through the threshold, she saw it was quite thick, about the depth of a few fingers. Security, indeed. Inside, the mansion in the mountains continues to hold up to its spectacular billing, with opulent¨Cyet rustic¨Cfurnishings and decor. Wood, stone, and subdued steel are the primary things to see, but down hallways that lead away from the mud room-like vestibule they are currently in, Tallulah can see aspects of modern design here and there. The security systems, in particular, seem expansive, and Tallulah realizes that the wealth expended to build here is intended to stay here, protected, for the long term.


    Christina seems willing to allow Tallulah some time to take in the surroundings, and she speaks only after about half a minute or so.


    "This is one of the side entrances. We use this primarily to deal with the horses and dogs, but as your people currently reside in one of the barns, we also use it to deal with you now."


    Her uninflected manner of speaking makes it hard for Tallulah to determine if that was said in annoyance or if she considered them equivalent to animals, so she looks at Christina, hoping to get a read on her. Unsurprisingly, Christina is a blank slate¨Cpracticed and effortlessly maintaining her aloofness¨Cwhich Tallulah can''t read. Still, she figures she should at least try to be conversational, if only on the off-chance that Christina''s carefully guarded mood and mental state isn''t fully covered.


    "Sure, that makes sense."


    To Tallulah''s disappointment, Christina doesn''t continue speaking. Instead, she moves past a patrolling pair of interior guards and gestures for Tallulah to follow her down a hallway toward a more extensive set of rooms. Some of the doors they pass are already open, and they appear to be primarily work rooms and offices¨Cseveral of them occupied. Denoting the pale or pallid skin of some workers inside, she realizes this isn''t just a small family of vampires; this could be a vast network of them (or whatever they call themselves when gathered in sizable numbers).


    Most of the obvious vampires do not have the same dusky skin tone as Elijah, Micah, or Christina. Tallulah doesn''t know precisely how vampire society is set up, but the fact that Elijah mentioned a "living line" of descendants suggests¨Cin her mind, anyway¨Cthat perhaps their hierarchy is more familial or tribal. As she passes down the hallway, led by Christina, her thoughts churn over the idea of vampiric social standings. Maybe, Tallulah muses, the central family has the highest social standing, and all of the vampires they make are like worker bees. She figures she probably won''t get any answer if she were to ask about it, so Tallulah doesn''t.


    Christina leads them through a speakeasy-style bar room. Inside are several people dressed to the nines, and some guards are posted in and around the room. The individuals inside the room gaze toward Christina and Tallulah as they walk by. In the low light, several of the eyes of the clientele reflect the flicker of illumination, so for a moment, Tallulah feels as though she''s come across a group of alligators waiting for a meal¨Cor cougars watching potential prey move by. The pair moves up a set of steps to the second floor of the expansive home, and when Tallulah is about to make a joke about its size, Christina leads them toward a set of shut colossal double doors.


    The dark wood doors themselves are awe-inspiring; some master carpenter must have spent an unknown amount of hours carving and finishing the beautiful artwork. Tallulah reaches up and traces fingertips over the carvings of the woods, mountains, and bears.


    "This is actually¡­ beautiful."


    Tallulah doesn''t expect Christina to respond and is a little surprised when she does.


    "Yes. These doors, I believe, were the first things made for this place."


    Tallulah traces fingers over the inlay of dark red garnet, opal, and other highly polished stones before catching herself getting too engrossed in the details and forcing herself to step back.


    "I don''t think I''ve seen craftsmanship this good in a very long time. You all are fortunate to have whoever created this."


    Christina smiles, though there''s no humor in it.


    "Yes, I''m sure that the creator of this work considers himself lucky."


    Thinking nothing of Christina''s response, Tallulah takes another step back from the door, and Christina reaches forward, gripping one of the two doors'' handles.


    "Be on your best behavior." The tone in which it is said isn''t threatening, and from Christina''s body language, Tallulah thinks it''s more of a warning out of politeness.


    "I will, thank you."


    Christina opens the massive doors and steps in ahead of Tallulah, who follows a few paces behind. Unlike the rest of the home, which has wooden or locally sourced stone flooring, the circular, ballroom-sized room they enter is luxurious. Tallulah doesn''t even register that there are people inside at first, so overwhelmed with seeing what is clearly out of place in the rustic mountains'' mansion.


    The flooring is a white marble, polished to a reflective sheen. In the center of the ballroom is a great circular inlay of a black bear, with shimmering and polished gemstones outlining the bear in golds, bold browns, greens, and reds. Pillars of marble are spread sparsely and tastefully through the circular room, decorated top and bottom with carvings of bears. The ceiling is spaced with huge glass panes, spanning from beam to beam in some areas, allowing in the full light of the moon, while the tasteful¨Cand, of course, extravagant¨Clight fixtures maintain the same color temperature and disperse it throughout the room. There are purposeful cutouts on the marble flooring, allowing for small patches of grasses, exotic flowers, and similarly exotic assorted plants. Though there are no currently fussing gardeners, someone clearly maintains the space regularly.


    Finally, the overwhelming introduction to the palatial ballroom fades away, and Tallulah focuses on the people inside, of which there are several. Seeing them all dressed as they are¨Cas if they all were attending a dinner party¨Cmakes her feel extremely out of place in her old threadbare gardening clothes. Pale skin and dead-eyed looks reign supreme. In the center of what Tallulah assumes is the main focal point of the ballroom, about ten feet behind the topmost part of the bear floor inlay, is a small seating arrangement of three chairs, only one of which is currently filled. Behind the seating arrangement¨CTallulah notes it''s the only seating in the ballroom¨Care three separate security doors that give exterior access to somewhere else in the mansion. With no one having broken the moments of silence that her arrival behind Christina brought to the room, Tallulah focuses on the person sitting in the very center of the three-seat set-up.


    The man sitting there is a handsome sort, with dark eyes, dark skin, and dark hair coiled into tightly and immaculately manicured snake-like coiled braids tightly bound along his head. He is wearing a fantastically stylish black-on-black suit with no shirt or tie, so Tallulah can see some part of his athletic chest where the suit jacket exposes it. The only thing that blemishes his visage¨Cand it truly is the only thing¨Cis that from the left side of his chin, down across his throat, and halfway across his chest are three ragged scars. He wears no jewelry on his face or neck, though he has several sparkling rings she can see.


    Finally, breaking the spell of silence, Christina closes the door behind Tallulah and then walks back in front of her, guiding them further into the room. Christina stops and gives her introduction without turning to Tallulah again.


    "Maker, this is the supernatural Fey that called herself ''Tallulah.'' She has been acting as the spokesperson for the large group under the house''s hospitality on the grounds outside."


    After speaking, Christina moves from out front of Tallulah and casually walks right over to several individuals in assorted, tasteful cocktail dresses, suits, and other fashionable attire that screams money is not an issue. As Christina moves away, the man that Christina addressed as "maker" focuses his dark brown eyes on Tallulah. Before he speaks, he waves one of his hands to gesture Tallulah closer. She shuffles a few steps to stand directly on the bear floor inlay. The man tilts his head slightly, then finally speaks.


    "Are we to refer to you as Tallulah, then?"


    His voice is unpressured and full, but he speaks as though they are only a few feet apart. Still, no one else is speaking or making noise, so his quiet speaking tone still carries. Tallulah folds her hands in front of her, then nods.


    "Yes, that would be fine."


    The man studies her intently, clearly denoting her gray hair, crow''s feet, and other signs of aging. He also seems to focus a hair longer on the bruise that''s spread across her jawline.


    "Would you like something to drink?"


    "No, thank you." Tallulah shakes her head in response. "At the very least, can I know who I''m speaking to?"


    There''s some snickering about the ballroom from several individuals littered about. It''s only then that she realizes this is almost like a throne room of old, complete with the obnoxious nobility with nothing better to do with their time than point and laugh.


    "Yes, of course. Miss¨CMissus perhaps?¨CTallulah, apologies for the lack of introduction. You may call me Kofi, Kofi Freeman."


    The man doesn''t move when speaking except for his lips and eyes. He hasn''t moved his hand since gesturing Tallulah forward, other than putting it back down, and doesn''t appear to be planning to change that any time soon. Tallulah looks around carefully, without speaking initially, before focusing her attention back on "Kofi."


    "You''d like me to use Mister Freeman, then?" She quietly responds after his talk of using "Miss Tallulah."


    Kofi nods his head, accepting her method of addressing him.


    "We have been told that you and your people appeared on our land and that you have made statements to the effect of not knowing how you all arrived here and not knowing where exactly you are. We can illuminate some degree of your confusion, but not all of it. Are you familiar with the Swannanoa Valley area?"


    "Miss is fine, by the way, and no, I''m not familiar with it."


    "Well, Miss Tallulah, that is where you are. East of Asheville, North Carolina. Our territory." There''s a slight pause, "In America, if that wasn''t clear."


    Tallulah studies the man as he politely tells her where they are without the normal inflection of tone that people naturally use when speaking. Like Christina, she can''t place Kofi''s accent anywhere that she knows of, which tells her that they''ve made it a point to lose that tell of their origins.


    "Thanks for that. I figured we wound up somewhere in Appalachia, but I couldn''t tell if it was more south like Georgia or something."


    "Of course."


    Though not rude, his abrupt manner of speaking makes it difficult for Tallulah to formulate a conversation with him, which is probably intentional. This man is used to leadership and directives. He''s speaking at her with the tone of someone comfortable with his authority and is simply interested in some new change that has happened beyond his expectations.


    "We''re not sure exactly how we wound up here," Tallulah starts again, "but we think something we call a seam opened up and took us from our place in the Wilds to here. This sort of thing doesn''t happen, so we don''t know why it did, and we don''t know why it would have dumped us on your property."


    "We don''t generally encounter your kind in our territory; you''ll have to accept our apologies for the misunderstanding on first contact with your people."


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Tallulah flushes a little with a mild amount of anger, but she bites back her desire to tell him that the four deaths of good people wasn''t a misunderstanding and that life has value. It''s hard to explain life having meaning to dead, immortal, false, emotional robot-like things.


    "Thanks for the apology. I''ll make sure that their family members hear that you acknowledged the whole situation." She resists the intense urge to add "at the very least," instead choosing to make sure that she "stays on her best behavior."


    Kofi turns his head and murmurs to a man standing nearby, something in the same language the vampires used once before in the wilderness that only they seem to understand. She gets it; the fey also have their own language, so why not vampires? The man that Kofi murmured to disappears through one of those three security doors while they continue to speak, and the ballroom maintains its silence save for that conversation.


    Turning his head back to Tallulah, Kofi Freeman speaks again.


    "And now that you are here, what are your intentions?" Tallulah realizes he means "your" in a broader sense, as in what are you and your people planning on doing.


    "To be honest with you, we''d just like to get back to the Wilds and our village. It''s really as simple as that."


    "The bird that one of our house brought back for investigation. What is it?"


    The jump from the "how did you pop into existence here" topic to one of a random animal takes Tallulah a little by surprise. She''d not even realized that they had taken a bird from the villagers, with everything as out of sorts as it had been.


    "Sorry, uh, what?"


    "There was some sort of a large crow brought back to certain members of our house here, and we are curious as to what sort of creature it is."


    "Oh¡­ you''re talking about a reafan, I think. Did the feathers harm anyone?"


    Kofi nods but doesn''t speak again, clearly expecting Tallulah to continue.


    "Right, we call them reafans. They''re birds that got tamed by an, uh¨C" Tallulah pauses, at the moment deciding not to share more information than is absolutely necessary, "¨Cthere''s a group of fey in the Wilds that are known for taming and breeding them, then trading them."


    Kofi continues looking silently at Tallulah, expecting more than that broad overview.


    "Anyway, they''re kind of like messenger pigeons with a little bit of an attitude, that''s all. They''re not used to assault people if that''s what you want to know. Unless you consider the noise they can make incessantly some days assault."


    "We wanted to know what it was, and you''ve answered. Does it require any special food or drink?"


    Tallulah furrows her brow but maintains her hands clasped in front of her to avoid fidgeting or whatever else might be used as some kind of a tell on her. Assume that you''re always playing poker with people who may want to kill you, and you''ll be ahead of the game, is what her adoptive mother taught her.


    "No, just normal food and water. They prefer raw meat, as far as I''m aware. I''ve never actually taken care of one or owned one personally."


    "So they''re a symbol of status to your people?"


    She "hmms" for a moment, tilting her head.


    "I guess they could be, sure. They''re hard to get and fairly rare. Kind of expensive if you''re trading for one. It''s not completely rare, but a village like ours generally only will have two or three of them max. Cities and towns, of course, have a bunch more."


    Kofi lifts an eyebrow, one of the first emotion-like facial expressions he''s made the entire time she''s stood before him.


    "Cities? Your people have cities in this ''Wilds''?"


    Tallulah grunts. So much for keeping a lid on it and not saying too much.


    "There''s some cities in the Wilds, yes."


    "But your village is not a city?"


    "Yeah, that''s right."


    "What determines a city, then?"


    Her head swims at the rapid-fire questions, but she maintains her composure while also trying to figure out how to get out of the cycle that leads to answers and more questions.


    "Um¡­ well, when a tribe gets big enough and powerful enough, they have enough fey to form a city with walls. It''s not too complicated, and I just assume it''s kind of like how things were when America got formed, I guess? They just become cities because they''re natural gathering spots, and more and more people show up and stay."


    "Is that how America formed, Miss Tallulah?"


    Snickering breaks out again in the room, and Tallulah momentarily breaks from looking at Kofi towards the source. Classic looking woman vampire, with the red dress to match. Before she can help it, she blurts out.


    "What''s so funny, Bella?" That draws open laughter from a few people, and she realizes they''re all looking at her like a zebra at a zoo. She frowns, looking back at Kofi. "I wouldn''t know how America was formed since I didn''t experience it, but I guess that''s some joke about how old you and probably some of them are, yeah?"


    One person who wasn''t laughing at the outburst was Christina. Tallulah sees her move from the group of vampires she was standing with closer to where Kofi sits in the center of his three chairs. She positions herself right in the periphery of Tallulah''s vision with an open frown on her face, angry eyebrows and all, as if to say, "Bitch, I told you to be on your best behavior."


    Kofi breaks the rising tension.


    "Relax, Miss Tallulah, we were only injecting a little humor into the room. You seemed quite tense and serious."


    Tallulah lifts a shoulder in a partial shrug.


    "I didn''t know what to expect, and the guards I''ve spoken to weren''t very amicable. Don''t get me wrong, I understand where they''re coming from. They don''t know if we''re some mysterious hostile force¨C"


    "¨CAre you?"


    "What? No, of course not. Do we look like an invasion force? We have weans, and some folks are older than me. I mean, we are faeries, so yes, we could defend ourselves aggressively, but we''re a passive group. We''d much rather get back home and forget all this."


    "And how, pray tell, do we assist you in achieving that goal?"


    Tallulah opens her mouth to respond but then closes it and spends more time thinking about the words she wants to use. Kofi had lured her into speaking more openly by letting her keep going, but this was serious. She refocuses herself and then answers.


    "I''m not familiar with the location of seams in this area of your world, but if you could take me to the nearest major city, I''m sure I could find a fey there, and they might be able to get us in touch with someone who does. I mean, that''s my first thought anyway."


    "And why would we do that?"


    The question catches Tallulah off guard.


    "Uh, I thought the goal was for us to get out of your hair as soon as possible?"


    "Is that the goal?"


    His answering questions with questions or making statements to pull out information she wasn''t entirely trying to share is really starting to grate on her nerves. Still, she resolves to try and keep her composure. For all she knows, this is just some vampire''s way of getting his amusement.


    "I assumed it was. We don''t offer you anything, and we''re taking up room on your property."


    "That is true; we had to move some of our finest horses."


    His lips twitch for the first time, and one of the corners of his mouth slightly shifts upwards. Kofi is amused. Tallulah was correct; this is like being the zebra at a zoo. As if to stave off her indignation at realizing she''s being lightly teased, he raises a hand and then moves to stand.


    "I apologize for being a boor. We don''t get out of the ordinary things that come to our attention often. Our nights usually revolve around settling unimportant or uninteresting land, property, or feeding area disputes."


    Kofi drifts across the floor with a few simple strides, then stops next to Tallulah. She''s trying to decide why he''s using the third person to describe himself so much, except for when he used "I" to apologize. She ultimately decides it''s just a vampire doing weird vampire things. Tallulah gives him a wary gaze since he''s standing close to her.


    "Walk with me. I''m told my grounds are well-patrolled, and you''ll be safe."


    He pauses, but not giving Tallulah a chance to respond, he looks towards Christina, speaking in the same language that Tallulah understands¨Crather than in the secretive vampiric one.


    "Follow along, make sure we''re not disturbed."


    Christina moves away from the pillar she was dutifully holding up, looking slightly relieved not to be in such a formal environment any longer than she has to be. It''s hard to tell how relieved she is since her facial expressions don''t give away much. Tallulah denotes that outside of their shared skin-tone, Kofi and Christina don''t look that close in appearance; perhaps her earlier attempt at musing over vampiric hierarchy wasn''t right at all.


    As Kofi moves across the ballroom marble floor towards the grand double doors, his shoes make only the faintest noise. Tallulah, however, feels like she''s stomping along when she walks beside him. Only by knowing that Christina is following does she hear the footfalls faintly padding behind them. As they make their way out of the ballroom in the same way that Christina led Tallulah in, Kofi slightly pauses to allow someone next to the doors to open them for their exit.


    Kofi leads Tallulah out through the home, except that they exit through the front door, which is just as ornate as you''d expect. The wide foyer allows for a sweeping staircase that leads down from the second floor they were on. Breaking the silence as they walk down the sweeping staircase, Tallulah murmurs.


    "You do have a super nice home here. I haven''t seen something built like this in the Wilds. Some of the cities have some pretty nice places, but this is pretty much in the middle of nowhere."


    "How we like it, yes. Most of our kind stick to cities when they''re young, learning to survive and train their abilities. We chose this spot long ago and built it up to our liking."


    As they move outside and into the cool night air, Tallulah inhales the freshness. It reminds her quite a bit of the Wilds, which is somewhat comforting. Kofi keeps them moving away from the front of the large mansion, down the steps from its elevated foundations, and along a pathway that leads through a garden of local flora. They walk silently for about five minutes before Kofi pauses and glances back at Christina.


    "Make sure we''re not disturbed."


    Christina nods her head at Kofi without even looking at Tallulah. Instead, she turns and faces pointedly away from them, apparently acting as a personal bodyguard to Kofi for now. Kofi reaches over and touches a flat palm to the mid back of Tallulah as if to guide her along for a more personal walk. Usually, when someone touches you, you can feel the heat radiating from them, but with Kofi, it''s the exact opposite. It''s almost as though the coldness of rock has touched her clothing and is set on absorbing her body heat. It reminds her that vampires are dead.


    "We will help your people return to your ''Wilds''¨C."


    Tallulah looks sideways at Kofi as if expecting a "but." Not to be disappointed, Kofi does continue.


    "¨CBut, we wish for you to stay here as an ambassador of sorts. Maybe an advisor, if you''d rather that. Agree to these terms, and I will send some of my occult-loving house to find you a fey that will help your people to return to their homes."


    "Wait, what? Why?" Tallulah doesn''t even pretend not to be surprised by the seemingly random requirement for assistance. Her vivid and deep green eyes are undoubtedly full of confusion, making the crow''s feet around her features slightly more pronounced. Kofi draws them to a stop, then removes his hand from the small of Tallulah''s back and steps in front of her.


    "Would you like the truth, or would you rather I continue to play vampire games with you?"


    Tallulah grimaces. Rarely does anything good come from someone asking, "Do you want the actual truth?" As Jack Nicholson once famously said, "You can''t handle the truth!" She, too, feels like maybe she doesn''t want that "actual truth." It takes her a few moments of internal debate, but then her shoulders slouch slightly, and she sighs.


    "Sure, the actual truth. Lay it on me, Jack."


    "Kofi, if it pleases you in private, or Mister Freeman if you insist on maintaining formalities outside formal situations."


    It occurs to Tallulah that he might not have gotten the pop culture reference and thought she was calling him Jack as his name. For a moment, it strikes her as hilarious, and she blurts out a laugh. The sudden bubbling of laughter seems to catch Kofi unexpectedly. He raises one of his eyebrows at her, and the faint scarring on his chin that travels down his neck to his chest shifts when his lips form an ever-so-slight frown.


    "Er, sorry, yeah it¡­ it''s a name from a movie where they''re talking about handling the truth and¨Cyou know what, it doesn''t matter. Sorry, Kofi-in-private. And yes, I''d like to hear the actual truth. Games aren''t really my thing, if only because I always lose at them."


    "Because having a faerie consociate may come in handy for us. Draugar are a fickle lot, but one thing that they all have in common is that the threat of death will keep them in line. You may not be a vicious warrior of your people, but those who come to seek our favor wouldn''t know that. They will have heard of the house strong enough to employ even a faerie to their retinue. You can see how that empowers us."


    Tallulah brushes back some of her hair from her shoulders, the silvery sheen of gray hair reflective in the moonlight. She looks up at the moon as if seeking its wisdom.


    "I can see it, yeah. I''m not a spring chicken, Kofi. It seems to me you''d do better off with a younger fey."


    "Trying to convince me to choose another in your stead, Miss Tallulah?"


    She laughs, not at him, but humorously as if that tickled her. She lowers her eyes back from gazing at the nearly full moon overhead and stares at him.


    "No, no, not really. I just wanted to see what you''d say."


    "Now, who is playing games?"


    "Yeah, but I suck at games, so you have a bit of a headstart on me."


    "Maybe a few years. I thought your kind lived longer than humans."


    "Some of us do, I''m not¨C"


    Tallulah pauses, remembering her earlier personal reminder not to overshare information. Her eyes focus on Kofi, and for whatever reason, she feels he isn''t "like all the other" vampires. Warning bells start going off in her mind when she realizes she feels that way. Her body tenses a fraction, which Kofi immediately recognizes.


    "Something I said?"


    "Are you doing vampire mojo on me right now?"


    "No, should I be?"


    "Do you ever actually answer a question, or do you always answer one with a question?"


    "What do you think?" He purposely smiles, his teeth gleaming under the moonlight. No fangs.


    "I apologize. I couldn''t help myself. But no, I''m not doing any ''vampire mojo'' on you. I find I''d rather people agree with me of their own free will. I could, in fact, probably make you agree with me, but no one likes disgruntled associates now, do they?"


    "Where did you get the scars?"


    "Trying to turn my question about your age into one for me, Miss Tallulah?"


    Tallulah smiles despite herself. Kofi may or may not be using vampire mojo on her, but she realizes he''s excellent at disarming her. She finds him charming, even though she has every reason not to.


    "Maybe I was. You''re not supposed to ask a mature woman her age, you know."


    "I have mayhaps heard that a time or two in my travels."


    Kofi raises one of his hands and brushes his cold palm across her jawline, almost affectionately. His cold hand traces the purple bruise on Tallulah''s face ever so gently. A part of her wants to recoil, but just as equally, a part doesn''t mind.


    "Say yes, Miss Tallulah. You will enjoy spending time here and have the freedom to do as you please, for the most part."


    "I''ll give you my answer if you answer my question about your scars."


    Kofi twists his lips in a slight smile that doesn''t fully reach his eyes.


    "Are we being transactional now? Alright. It isn''t as exciting as you might think. I was a trapper before I became a vampire. One evening, when I was young, I made a mistake and walked onto the path of a mother bear with cubs. Luckily, bears who are protecting their young will attack only so long as it takes to defend their offspring, so I got away with my life, though I was gravely injured by only one swipe of a claw. So, as you see, not as exciting as whatever story you might have had cooking up in your mind."


    Tallulah watches him for a few moments, trying to decide if she wants to let him get away with the glossiest gloss-over of a person''s history she''s heard in a long time. Sadly, she realizes she will let him get away with it. She doesn''t understand her feelings towards this vampire standing next to her so close, and she very much hopes they will not be self-destructive.


    "To answer your earlier question, Kofi, some of us age like normal humans, and others are slower. A few others, unfortunately, age much faster than your average human. I age like a normal human."


    He nods his head once.


    "And to give you my answer to your other thing¨C"


    She hesitates, thinking of what she''ll give up by not returning to the Wilds. But, as she convinces herself, this place where Kofi has claimed territory is similar to the Wilds in some ways.


    "My answer¨CI¨Cyes, if you will help them to return to the Wilds, I''ll stay here as an advisor. But I want your assurance that I won''t be a pet or insulted like a zoo-like creature. That''s how the others looked at me when we met, and I don''t like it."


    "I cannot speak for others, but I can speak for myself, and my words have weight. I will not cage you like a beast, treat you like a sideshow, or as an animal at a zoological garden."


    Tallulah smiles, despite herself, and momentarily wonders if Kofi will touch her again like he did when he wanted her to agree to his offer. It occurs to her that she didn''t mind it, which is still puzzling in some ways. Kofi does not. Instead, he steps back to give her some space.


    "A smile? Now I''m truly honored."


    "How do we make it official then?"


    "We already did, but if it makes you feel better, we can shake on it."


    "A handshake deal with a vampire?" She laughs, then continues, "I''ve pretty much broken every damn rule that I''ve ever been taught about your people."


    "I''m wounded! But I am aware of how other creatures and supernaturals view us. Not all of us are so bad, as some people say."


    They lapse into silence for a few seconds, with only the noise of the mountain bugs and night creatures filling the space. Finally, Kofi offers his hand to Tallulah, and this time, without hesitation, she reaches forward and shakes his cold, dead hand. An increasingly small part of her in the back of her mind screams that she''s making a mistake, and all of this is vampire mojo, but the warm and pleasant feeling in her abdomen overrides everything. She smiles at Kofi, and like a mirror on the wall, he returns it.

 Chapter 8: The Instinct

    As probably should have been expected, getting everyone ready to go on the trip along the traveler''s path took longer than it should. While Khalil had no issues speaking to one of the wiretails, we did have the issue of being the plus-two of a party of six that had its own transportation. We ultimately solved that by riding double on the two strongest wiretails, which naturally belonged to who I''d learned are Corporal Kline and attach¨¦ Cassandra. He made it a point to ensure I learned the pronunciation, for whatever reason. With Khalil riding on the back of Kline''s saddle and me having to ride the back of Cassandra''s¨Cshe insisted on the arrangement¨Cwe moved out of my village and onto the traveler''s path.


    The movement and feel of being on the back of such a powerful beast was like the ultimate form of freedom¨Cperhaps soaring as a bird could be the only thing more extraordinary. Cassandra''s wiretail effortlessly kept pace with Kline''s, and the four others of their party kept pace behind us. The quickness of movement and uncautious ability while traveling made me understand why the Blackham was the tribe closest to genuinely being able to challenge the Aurora tribe.


    Should there be another great gathering to choose the tribe who rules the Wilds after Beltaine¨Cwhen the sun becomes ascendant¨Cthe Aurora might have competition. Or at least that''s one of the rumors you overhear while trading in different villages and towns. Wilder, like me, don''t touch even the basest part of the politics in our land. We get the dirty rumors and gossip that spread when people meet at the local watering hole of some village or town. We''re always left to our own devices, and to be honest, that''s how most Wilder like it. After all, if we felt differently, we probably would have migrated and tried to join a more formal tribe.


    Those thoughts are interrupted when my hands that rest on my slight handhold on the wiretail''s saddle are touched lightly. I lean back slightly, catching Cassandra''s over-the-shoulder glance. She tilts her head to make it clear that she wants me to lean closer so we can speak without raising our voices. I hesitate, the low feeling in my chest and stomach threatening to grab hold to make me act stupid over Cassandra again.


    She recognizes my hesitation and smirks back at me over her shoulder. Shortly after, she turns her head back forward and nudges the wiretail to go faster. We were already going fast, but when Cassandra gave the command, the wiretail truly let loose. We shoot ahead of the paced group like a slingshot, and it''s all I can do to hold on to the saddle while being jostled.


    "Better hold on to me, loverboy." Cassandra''s voice drifts back with a little bit of laughter.


    Because the wiretail doesn''t have to pick its way through a forest or leap over fallen logs along the traveler''s path, the speed it reaches is absolutely terrifying. Shrubs slap at my arms as we pass too close to either side, and I try to duck from any light branches that look like they might be sticking further into the pathway. We tear along the path, and the majesty of the beast we''re riding truly comes into complete focus.


    "We''ve left everyone behind!" My voice sounds more alarmed than I actually am, likely because of adrenaline pumping through me. This is amazing to me. Too late, I realize I shouldn''t have said anything about leaving the others behind because only a few moments after saying as much, Cassandra allows the wiretail to slow itself down, knowing that the others will catch up in due time.


    "I''m so disappointed. I thought one of you woodsy sorts would enjoy the chance to experience this."


    A depressive sort of reality sets in; her saying she was disappointed in me felt way worse than it should. I belatedly lean forward towards her shoulder and ear. Though I want to, I don''t move my hands from gripping the saddle. Cassandra seems aware that I''ve moved, but she doesn''t say anything, so I take the initiative.


    "Yeah, that was great, so I don''t know why I said that."


    "Afraid of actually having fun with someone¨Cnot of your people¨CI bet."


    "That''s just not even true!" I protest emphatically. I don''t know what made me say anything to begin with, so I can''t prove her wrong, either.


    Cassandra''s wiretail¨Ca primarily sandy-brown colored beast with a black head, chest, and two front legs¨Cgrowls a few decibels louder than usual before slowing to a stop next to what looks like a brook. I look left and right before sliding off the back of the wiretail, taking care not to accidentally be hit by the feline''s tail so I''m not impaled by one of its foot-long quills. The wiretail growls and grumbles a bit more before Cassandra slides off. The cat walks over to the brook¨Conly a few paces off the side of this particular traveler''s path spot¨Cand begins to lap up water as it gurgles and flows past noisily.


    "I don''t remember a brook right next to the path when we came through here towards the village." I sigh loudly.


    "Perhaps you missed it."


    "No, that''s kind of my job on trade runs. I look for food and water."


    "So¡­ what does that mean?" Cassandra inquires, without sounding alarmed or concerned. She busies herself with cleaning off irritants along the side and undercarriage of her wiretail''s saddle while the beast drinks.


    "It probably means the path has shifted since then, and we''re probably the first to come this way since it did."


    I watch Cassandra while she brushes her fingers through the large cat''s coat. Her nonresponse prompts me to add more to what I said.


    "And, if the path shifted, I''m not entirely sure we''re going to wind up in the exact vicinity where we encountered the wiretail. We might have to go all the way until we get to the river, then backtrack from there and try to guess how long it took, at the speed we were going at, to have a general area for search."


    "So what? We have two trackers and you. I''m not worried."


    "What if, er¨C"


    I cut myself off¨Cit occurs to me that I have no idea how she''s getting blood to sustain herself. I haven''t seen her take any blood from anyone or bite anything the entire few nights we''ve been in contact since their arrival at my village. I also realize, stupidly, that I have no idea how you ask a vampire if they will go all starved and crazy-mode any time soon. After I don''t continue speaking, Cassandra turns her head to look at me with an eyebrow raised questioningly. She doesn''t say anything, and I quickly try to piece together something to say that doesn''t sound completely daft.


    "So, I don''t know how to ask this without it maybe, like, offending you¨C"


    "You want to know if I''m going to starve without blood if we have to spend more than a few nights searching for the feral wiretail." Her voice is firm in response and sounds so vaguely disappointed again.


    "Uh, actually, yes?" I grimace.


    She turns her head back to the wiretail and returns to using her hand to pet along its shoulders. Not much of a beat is missed when she responds to my question with such a stilted response.


    "I''ll be fine; thank you for your concern."


    The awkwardness of the situation is thankfully broken up by the sounds of pawed creatures coming up the traveler''s path, and the five we left behind during the wiretail sprint finally catch up. Cassandra''s wiretail temporarily looks up, turning its black-tipped and tufted ears towards the noise. When it recognizes what''s approaching, it unconcernedly returns to drinking at the bubbling brook.


    "Hey Ori, damn, you guys took off!" Khalil pipes up as soon as they slow next to where Cassandra''s wiretail stopped us next to the brook.


    Khalil, Kline, and the others all dismount from their wiretails, and the lot of them go to drink next to the first wiretail at the brook. There''s some discontent with spacing, and a few snarls and growls start. One of the Blackham riders, with pits for a nose like a viper, raises his voice and says some command I don''t recognize, which seems to settle down the big cats¨Cfor the most part.


    "Yeah, man, the speed we got up to was incredible."


    I steal a glance in the direction where Cassandra last was, but she''s moved on and is instead walking away with Kline. Since their backs are turned to me, I can''t attempt to read their lips, and I''m reasonably confident that if I try to sharpen my hearing to listen in, the bubbling and spluttering of the brook will overwhelm my senses. Khalil jogs over towards me and nudges me on the shoulder. Afterward, he lowers his voice to chat privately with me.


    "Look at us, dude. Riding with some Blackham on the backs of their wiretails. Going to go and hunt down a feral wiretail that we first found! Freaking ''elite level tavern story achievement'' unlocked, dude. I won''t even have to try to smooth talk my way into fun-fun times."


    He gives the most crooked and hilariously lecherous facial expression¨Ccomplete with some ridiculous eyebrow waggle¨Cso I start laughing, despite my concerns about the traveler''s path having shifted.


    "You''re a moron."


    "Maybe, but am I wrong, though?"


    He nods to himself so smugly it''s comical. I shake my head, a bit of laughter still creeping out.


    "So, what''s up with you and ''Cass''? Is this some kinda thing you''d tell your best bro about? Don''t act like I didn''t notice her making sure you rode on her cat when we left."


    "She prefers ''Cassandra'' if you don''t know her, by the way. And¡­ stop it. I''m not even trying to figure that out; besides, there''s something you don''t know about her."


    "Oh shit. Cassandra''s got a deep, dark secret you''re about to lay on me?"


    "Man, no. We''ll talk about it later, and it''s not a huge deal. It''s just¨Cyeah. It''s different." I respond while rolling my eyes.


    "What?!" Khalil exclaims noisily, "Aw hell no, you''re not going to drop that nonsense on your boy, then try and leave it on a cliffhanger for later. Spit it out."


    "Look, fine, just stop yelling." I drag him a few feet further from the others by his arm, then lower my voice. "She''s a vampire, Khalil. Like a full-fledged bloodsucker. I saw the plants that were withered and dead in the exact spot she was sitting at Hannah''s place."


    "No waaaaay." He isn''t being sarcastic. Instead, he starts looking around, clearly trying to find where Cassandra went.


    "Stop trying to look for her, Khalil¨Cbe a little discrete for once, damn."


    Khalil makes a little lip-smacking noise, followed by a loud exhale of air in my direction, but he does stop looking around so conspicuously. When he speaks next, he does so in a whisper.


    "So, a vampire. Wow, I did not see that coming. Why''s a vampire hanging out with the Blackham, though? I thought they hated the sun." He looks left and then right, narrowing his eyes conspiratorially. "Wait. How''s she not a flaming ball of fire? It''s daytime."


    "A flaming¡­ ball of¡­ fire."


    "Dude, whatever, questions still stand."


    I crouch down and act like I''m trying to pull a large rock from the ground next to the brook. Khalil gets the hint and crouches down to do the same.


    "Apparently, our sun doesn''t actually hurt them, just irritates them or something, kinda like the night creatures of the Wilds. I don''t know the details there, so don''t harass me about it; I''m just telling you what Hannah said. Anyway, I don''t know why she''s hanging out with the sun-ascendant Blackham¨Cit seems to me a vampire wouldn''t want to hang out with those sorts of people. Buuuut, when she was talking to Hannah, she said Kline wasn''t ordering her and that she ''serves someone else''."


    "Ooooh, spooky intrigue."


    I look over at Khalil with the most deadpan look I can muster instead of responding right away, which gives him the opportunity to quip first.


    "Yeah, that''s right, I used another word you didn''t think I could use."


    "Khalil, you are so stupid, it''s straight-up painful sometimes."


    He leans over and punches me in the arm and shoulder¨Cit''s jokingly done but hard enough to send me off balance and toppling forward into the brook. Instead of face-planting directly into the water, I manage to get my forearms up to stop my forward progression. My elbows splash down and catch me, but I shower my face and body with water, which might be worse. I shake my head, getting the water out of my eyes while Khalil howls with laughter behind me. There are some other chuckles and half-laughs a little further away as the Blackham group sees what happened.


    "You¡­ bitch!" I fake-rage and launch myself from out of the water and at Khalil. He immediately locks me up in some wrestling move with one of my arms all twisted behind my back. He laughs while we wrestle around, and I manage to knee him a good one at least once. We hit the dirt and continue not-really scuffling, with assorted laughter, cusses, and half-hearted punches. After a short few moments, Kline and Cassandra return, both of them clearing their throats at the same time. Of the pair, Kline is the one who speaks up.


    "Really, gentlemen?"


    I shove Khalil''s head in the dirt, proudly smooshing his cheek into the sandy shoreline of the brook before Kline and Cassandra''s interjection breaks us up.


    "Dickhead."


    "Ass-hat."


    "If I weren''t already wet and slipped at first, you wouldn''t have had a chance."


    "Sure, Ori, suuuuure. Keep telling yourself that. My Kung Fu is too strong for you!"


    I groan to myself and no one, then push myself off the dirt, looking down at my all-black traveling clothes. After a few moments of brushing them off, I got most of the dirt and debris off, but the water from my initial crash into the brook would take time to dry off. I grunt a couple of times in discontent, mainly because I didn''t manage to win our little fake brawl.


    Cassandra and Kline have returned to the other Blackham, who all look amused by our little tiff. I offer Khalil a hand up from the ground, which he takes, and we both walk back towards the group. A couple of the wiretails have settled down with their dangerous tails curled around their body while the others are boredly pacing around. As I draw nearer, Kline gazes at me.


    "Are you two good now?"


    "Yeah, we''re good; it wasn''t serious."


    "I didn''t think it was."


    There''s a bit of a lull in conversation after Kline''s last. He reaches into a small pack next to him on the ground and pulls out two small folds of jerky, which he tosses to me and Khalil.


    "Eat this, then we keep going."


    "You realize the path shifted, right?"


    "Admittedly, I didn''t initially, but Cass informed me that you told her that''d occurred."


    Having caught the tossed jerky, Khalil and I opened up the leaves and twine used to keep them in little travel-protected rations and chewed some down. I''m not quite done with Kline yet, so I keep talking between bites.


    "Yeah, I mean, I think the best way to go at this point would be to take the traveler''s path all the way to the river since it should kick us out there at some point, and then backtrack about half a day and start the search there."


    "Half a day backtrack? That seems a little excessive."


    "Yeah, it took us quite a bit over half a day to get from where we encountered the wiretail to where the village wound up being past the river. So, I figured with the speed of the wiretails compared to the trade wagon with a pair of donkeys we were on, a half a day is a good measure of distance."


    "Mmhmm. Okay."


    I''m surprised the agreement came that quickly, and it must have spread on my face. I''m a terrible poker player, that''s for sure. Cassandra watches us chewing the jerky before adding to the conversation.


    "Don''t look so surprised, Orion. We sought your help for a reason; we won''t ignore your instinct about where we should get started."


    My brain almost didn''t hear the rest of her entire sentence after she said my full name, "Orion." The warm and fuzzies keep cropping back up, annoyingly distracting me during the absolute dumbest times. This time, it irritates me, so I turn away from Kline, Cassandra, and Khalil before walking toward Cassandra''s wiretail. Behind me, I hear Khalil chirp at my back.


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    "Don''t walk away mad. I won fair and square!" His voice drifts after me, followed by amicable laughter.


    I roll my eyes as I walk away, then shake my head. It''s okay if Khalil thinks I''m just being a poor sport. I''d rather him think that than the truth: I can''t seem to keep my head on straight when Cassandra is around. At least with my little crush on Aria¨Cor whatever it was¨CI could still function. As I draw closer to Cassandra''s beast with its tufted black tips of ears, its large head turns towards me. I slow down, reminding myself that while these are technically trained, they are very much not docile.


    "Hey there, big guy. Don''t eat me."


    The oversized feline scents the air as I draw nearer, and the cat seems to focus its attention on the long piece of jerky I''m chewing on.


    "Oh, you want some of this? I mean, alright, it''s just meat."


    Initially, I start to toss the rest of the jerky strip, but then I stop myself. Instead, I very slowly step closer to the bull-sized wiretail. It garbles a little of a low noise but doesn''t take an aggressive stance; if anything, it just looks curious as to what the hell I''m doing.


    "Alright, buddy, don''t take my hand off, here¡­"


    I slowly hold out the large piece of jerky, only holding the very tip of it with my fingers. The cat leans forward and takes the jerky right from me as if it''s the most natural thing in the world. While it chomps the jerky, I slowly use my other hand to reach up and pet my hand against the wiretail''s thick fur. I trace the line that separates the black fur of the beast''s head, front shoulders, and front two legs from the rest of its sandy brown, puma-like coat. I''m somewhat surprised at the coarseness of the coat, though I''m not entirely sure why I would be. I fish out my second to last piece of jerky and offer it to the cat in the same way, and like the previous time, it takes it from me like it''s not a big deal and without trying to eat my hand. This time, when I return to petting the beast''s fur in front of its saddle, I close my eyes and concentrate.


    The sun is still overhead, and I can feel its warmth, radiance, and strength coursing through me when I open myself up to it. I slowly move my hands along the shoulders of the big cat, maintaining touch, then try to push out with my consciousness towards that of the wiretail. There''s definite resistance, much more than I''ve ever encountered from an animal before, but I''m not deterred. I might never get a chance to try this again, so I keep focusing.


    I can feel the fatigue in my mind as I try to force my ability to kick in and, at the very least, be able to ride the senses of the wiretail. The struggle is real for me, and I feel a slight droplet of blood start to run from my nose. I''m just about to give up when everything in my mind''s eye suddenly becomes an explosion of vibrancy, noises, and smells. It''s a shock that almost overwhelms me, and I sit straight down on the ground reflexively. I don''t lose my concentration, though, and I suddenly realize I''ve done it¨CI can see, hear, smell, and feel through the wiretail!


    The wiretail scents the air¨Cand I scent the tangy, metallic, sweet aroma of my own blood through the nose of the wiretail. It grumbles and rumbles, then turns and sits down. I realize I have no actual control over the wiretail; at this point, I''m just a passenger riding its senses. A few minutes pass, with me taking in all I can as the wiretail''s attention lazily drifts back and forth. It''s pretty remarkable, and I''m absolutely proud of myself for being able to make the leap to doing it with such a powerful creature, rather than only being able to do it on grabbats, birds, and the occasional cat or dog.


    The saddled beast turns its attention to the figure of Cassandra walking towards me and the wiretail next to me. I can see myself through the eyes of the wiretail, which is a little strange in and of itself, but you get used to it. I''m sitting, eyes closed and cross-legged on the dirt, with a bloody nose that has stopped and started to dry already. Cassandra stops a few paces behind me, her seafoam eyes searching the back of my head. A moment passes, and then, almost like the wiretail scenting the jerky I originally offered to it, I see her scent the air behind me¨Cjust once. Her hands open and close before she inhales a second time, this time deeply.


    She clears her throat behind me, but it doesn''t distract me from my concentration, and I''m not fully ready to give up watching through the senses of the wiretail. When Cassandra sees I''m unresponsive, she walks over next to me and crouches down. She tilts her head ever so slightly, then snaps her fingers in front of my face. Thankfully, the wiretail seems to be somewhat interested in what Cassandra is doing, so I continue to be able to watch her while she puzzles out the situation in front of her. When I see her slightly turn her head to look around, I realize her upper jaw has somewhat changed¨Cjust the slightest tips of fangs protrude from beneath her upper lip. She inhales ever so slightly again, much closer to me and the dried remnants of my tiny nosebleed. Her seafoam eyes take on a hardened glint, and being a regular hunter, I know the look¨Ca predator starting to act on instinct. I realize then that it''s time to wake up. I force my consciousness to return to me, and the whirlwind feeling of all my senses dulling as they move from the wiretail directly back to my own threatens to unbalance me, even with my sitting on the ground.


    I open my pale eyes, looking directly at Cassandra while she''s inches from my face.


    "Hi."


    She exhales a slight huff of air through her nostrils, almost like she were laughing, though she most certainly isn''t.


    "Orion, you really, really need not do whatever you just did again without warning someone first."


    "Why? Can''t control yourself?"


    "My control is of no concern to you." There was no joking tone there; Cassandra''s voice was still quite hardened. I suspect now that I''m speaking to the real Cassandra.


    "I mean, it is a little¨C" I reach up to rub the dried blood from my nose and the top of my lips. "After all, I''m riding with you."


    "As I said, my control is of no concern to you. What you should be focusing on is your job." Her tone is icy, and I can see the tips of her fangs while she speaks. I wonder if maybe she''s fighting her internal predator right now, and it''s coming across to me as being frosty and standoffish.


    "Hey, I thought we were cool; there''s no need to be that way. Sorry I got a nosebleed. I was trying something, and it doesn''t always give me a nosebleed when I do, so I didn''t think about it before I did it."


    "Yes, I''d imagine that''s a regular problem for you. Not thinking before doing."


    Cassandra stiffly stands up from in front of me, and her fangs still haven''t retracted, so I figure it must take vampires a long time to get control over their real natures once they''ve come to the surface. Without saying another word, she walks a few paces to her wiretail and hops onto its back. After adjusting her weight on the cat, she turns her upper torso slightly to look at me expectantly. I push myself off the ground and brush off the dirt from my clothes again. After I''m okay with the state of my still-damp clothing, I walk over and pull myself onto the back of the saddle to once again ride behind Cassandra.


    Seeing Cassandra and I mount the wiretail, the others move to do the same. Kline and Khalil come to join the group from wherever and whatever they were doing as a pair nearby. Once everyone is mounted and ready to go, Kline sets off in the same direction down the traveler''s path, and this time, Cassandra allows the other riders to all go ahead of us. With us taking up the rear of the pack and keeping the pace Kline and the others set, we ride in an uncomfortable silence.


    The silence continues for hours, and I get desensitized to it after a while. My eyes watch the passing of trees, shrubbery, and more wilderness the longer we move across the path, but my brain is numbed to it, and I''m essentially watching it all pass without seeing anything. My thoughts swirl around the events of the last couple of weeks and where they have brought me. I try to puzzle out what is truly happening but come to the same dead ends brought about by a simple lack of information. I''m even contemplating all of the steps that led to me riding on the back of a wiretail with a vampire who may¨Cor may not¨Cactually like me.


    Once I finally get to that point, I shake the thoughts away. Those sorts of thoughts don''t do anything for the entirety of the situation; Cassandra was right about me needing to focus on my job. Once I shake free of my circular thoughts and become more aware of my surroundings, I realize I can hear the faintest sound of voices drifting out from the deep Wilds. I hear the songs again! I touch Cassandra''s back with a hand, and she stiffens as though something has touched her that disgusted her. I fight the emotional punch to my ego and instead lean forward to talk to her.


    "I can hear the singing again. Can''t you?"


    "I hear nothing."


    "I heard the same thing the first time we came through, just before we got to the river. It wasn''t far from where we encountered the wiretail. If we backtrack a little from here, I''m fairly certain we could pick up the trail."


    "I hear nothing."


    "What? Seriously? You told me to focus on my job, and I am. Sorry if you''re mad at me, but this doesn''t apply to that."


    "I''m not¨C" Cassandra cuts herself off brutishly. "If you''re sure this is where we should stop and do a short backtrack, then that''s what we''ll do."


    "I''m sure."


    Cassandra whistles sharply before slowing her wiretail to a stop. The other riders, Kline and Khalil, also come to a fairly rapid stop and then turn around. Kline guides his wiretail back to stand next to Cassandra and I. Kline speaks while Khalil gives me a nod and a friendly greeting.


    "What''s going on?"


    "Orion says he can hear singing, and it''s the same singing he heard as they were almost to the river on their trip. He informs me that if we backtrack from here just a little bit, we should be able to locate the trail."


    Kline looks at me for confirmation.


    "We could locate it; I mean, it''s been over a week since then, so it''s a longshot if the wiretail is still even around, but yeah, with three trackers, we should be able to find at least something out there."


    "Do we need to worry about the singers of the singing?"


    "Nah, man, we''re going to backtrack away from them, so we should be good."


    "And if you or the other two have to track in this direction?"


    "Er¡­ well, yeah, it could be a problem then. Marmennlar aren''t exactly known for being friendly to outsiders, you know? Not that I''m saying for sure it''s them¨Cit could be water elves or something¨Cbut I''ve learned that generally anything in the deep Wilds is either not to be trusted or will rip your face off. So yeah, it could be dangerous. Did I answer your question? Sorry."


    "Yes." There''s a pregnant pause as Kline seems to try to decide on a plan, but finally, he speaks again.


    "We''ll send someone with each tracker, just to be safe."


    "I''ll go with Orion." Cassandra declares, which surprises me.


    Kline nods at Cassandra, then tugs a little on the saddle of his wiretail to head back to the others and give them the rundown of the new plan. Meanwhile, I''m mystified as to why Cassandra chose to volunteer again to go along with me after how seemingly angry she was with me for the past few hours. I genuinely do not understand her.


    "I wonder why I can hear them singing but no one else can. Initially, when we were coming through, I thought Lani, Aria, and Khalil were ignoring it, but now I''m not so sure¡­"


    "It''s a mystery that doesn''t matter right now, yes?"


    I shrugged my shoulders before realizing that Cassandra couldn''t see my gesture in response, so I faintly added on a little verbal response.


    "Yeah. Sure." I say with a sigh.


    When Kline and the others turn themselves around on the path, they pick up the pace, and we follow behind them. It isn''t too long, only about half an hour before I tell Cassandra that we are probably in a good enough stopping spot to get started. She whistles to stop the procession of beasts and people, so we all circle up and dismount. Since six of us will be heading out, leaving two behind¨CKline and Khalil¨Cthey''re essentially volunteering to set up what the campsite will be like in the foreseeable future.


    I gaze up at the sky, seeing the night creeping up on us faster than expected. Because of it, I question the others on whether we''re going to start early tomorrow or if we''re going to start tonight. The other two trackers laugh a little bit¨Clong enough that I begin to wonder what''s so funny¨Cbefore Cassandra leans over and tells me that trackers from the Blackham always track at night; it''s the only way they can generally catch a wiretail in the wild. Embarrassed, I lapse into silence.


    Khalil gets a fire going while Kline supplies material for it. The rest of us get our gear for tracking and hunting from the stout wiretail we used to hold our traveling supplies. Kline announces that we''ll all have a meal before we''re free to find what we can and that it''ll only take a few minutes to cook up. Initially, I just sat to wait, but Cassandra touched my shoulder lightly and gestured for me to follow her slightly away from the others. Naturally, I follow. We walk several long yards down the path and then turn to take a few steps off and into some bushes and shrubbery for privacy. Once Cassandra is satisfied that we''ll not be overheard or seen by the others, she stops next to me. She turns her gaze towards me after a few seconds of silence.


    "I apologize for earlier."


    Her seafoam eyes glint in the rising moon, and I realize that a vampire''s eyes are reflective of light for the first time. It makes sense, being night creatures, but it''s still interesting to me.


    "It was my bad, honestly; you''re good, Cass¨CAndra."


    Stumbling over her name seems to amuse her, and she grins slightly. No fangs anymore, I denote.


    "You can call me Cass, if it pleases you. And no, it wasn''t your fault, Orion. It was something I should have had better control over."


    There''s a long pause of silence, almost like she wants to say something else but decides against it. I press the issue since I''m not above trying to drag out things from people.


    "What is it?"


    Her eyes searched my face, scrutinizing me with an open apprehension I hadn''t seen from her before. I take a step slowly in her direction, thinking I understand the situation, but she immediately puts a hand up and stops me by pressing it directly in the center of my chest. I can feel the cold radiating from her hand through my old black t-shirt, as though I''ve been stopped by a hand made of ice.


    "Don''t, Orion."


    "I don''t understand, Cass. Genuinely. I''m confused as hell right now, and it''s going to fuck me up when we go out to track in a few minutes. Can you just untangle some of what''s going on here for me? Please?"


    Cassandra doesn''t lower her hand, and her seafoam eyes stare at me without breaking contact. I feel her hand move a little, gripping some of the fabric of my shirt in her fingers before she smoothes it back across my chest. It almost feels like she''s petting my chest, like one would do to an animal or something. Enough time passes that I think Cassandra isn''t going to respond, but then she breaks eye contact with me, instead choosing to look at where her hand is placed on my upper torso.


    "We have a strong instinct¨Cmy kind¨Cand it''s not just to feed. From time to time, we also get an overwhelming desire to claim territory or things¨Cand sometimes that''s even people. It''s why people who know about us existing tend not to trust our kind, because we''ll do a lot of things¨Cnot always good things¨Cto chase that instinct. I don''t know why you''ve triggered it with me, but you have. For that, you really do deserve an apology up front."


    I start to flush a little despite trying to tell myself not to. Cassandra immediately seems to pick up on it. I''m momentarily distracted by the scent of night-blooming flowers nearby wafting up¨Cor perhaps my mind just needed to distract itself while I digest her words. My eyes shift, trying to locate the blooming flowers, and when I do, I smile just a little. Cassandra doesn''t seem to realize that I''m not looking at her at that moment, or perhaps she doesn''t care because she continues speaking.


    "It''s not necessarily a good thing, Orion, like I said. Instincts are very hard to control at times. And claiming territory or property can be, well, bad for all parties involved. Yes, I would feel more protective of you, but I would feel protective in the same way as a favored pet. I absolutely would wind up trying to keep you doing what my instincts think you should do. Do you understand what I''m saying?"


    "Bird in a cage?"


    "Yes. Bird in a cage. Something to look at, play with, and then put back in the cage for the next time."


    "Don''t really like that¡­"


    I step away from her and walk over to a small batch of blooming flowers that are so fragrant. Reaching down to my side, I remove my small whittling knife from my belt and carefully start slicing off some lemony, citrus-smelling blossoms. Pinks, whites, oranges, and reds are all in hand, and I stand straight up. Cassandra hasn''t moved, so I return to standing next to her, having let the silence go on long enough. She seems to be of the same mindset because, once again, she starts to speak first.


    "That''s why I''m giving you this warning, Orion. I wasn''t angry with you; I''m trying to avoid there being a real problem here."


    "So¡­ you''re saying¡­ you like me."


    I give her a crooked grin out of nowhere, trying to break the seriousness of our conversation. She blinks her eyes a few times as if she''s trying to figure out whether I''m serious. Her lips twist upwards a fraction at the corners, which tells me more than speaking does. I take that time to offer her the bouquet of night-blooming jalapa flowers.


    "The Endomi have one thing right. They respect this flower enough to have made it their tribe''s symbol, you know."


    "No, I didn''t know that, if I''m honest. Changing the subject on a serious matter, Orion? Tsk, tsk. Your friend Khalil was right; you are an ''ass-hat.''"


    Cassandra takes the flowers from me and tucks them into a pocket in her cross-chest light armor, probably just to be polite since they immediately start to curl and wither when placed so close to her. I laugh a little bit and step backward, though my brain and body don''t want to.


    "Sorry, just some part of me always wants to try and cut uncomfortableness with humor. I understand, though; I''ll be more careful about what I do. I don''t want to make it harder on you than it already must be."


    "I should have been able to maintain control, and frankly, I''m a bit exasperated that I haven''t. I may have spent too long in the Wilds, away from humanity and others of my kind. It could be that it''s making it more difficult for me to maintain my needs, wants, and other assorted desires. Perhaps after all this is sorted, and my other business is done, I''ll return through a seam."


    I gaze at her, purposefully locking my eyes with her seafoam ones. I take a half-step in her direction, my shoes crunching a few sticks in the process. She doesn''t move away, but I don''t take another step¨Cor even half-step¨Cforward.


    "Or¡­ you could not."


    "Or I could not, yes. But why would I stay if it''s eroding my ability to control myself?"


    "Maybe you''re not supposed to be so self-controlling. People are people, and creatures are creatures. We don''t tell wiretails not to hunt and kill, and we don''t tell snakes not to get their food even if it''s detrimental to grabbats and other small creatures of the Wilds. Why should you be held to a different standard than they are?"


    "Because I''m not an animal, Orion."


    "Well, I mean, sure, I was just making a point. I don''t deny what I am. I do what I feel is right, which is why I hunt and track for Hannah and Jorge''s village, you know?"


    "I appreciate what you''re saying, Orion, truly I do, but you don''t know what the ever living fuck you''re talking about right now."


    I purse my lips a little, trying to decide what to say. She''s right, though. I don''t know what it feels like to be a vampire like her, so I probably shouldn''t be trying to advise her on listening or not listening to her internal instinctive monologue. While I stand there in silence, a ghost of a smile forms on her lips again.


    "Don''t worry about it, Orion. I''ve already reined myself in. I don''t think we''ll see a return of that side of me without my permission any time soon."


    She steps close to me, completely invading my private space. Immediately, I can feel the warmth of my body sapping away towards hers, and this time, when she leans in close to me, she places her lips against mine. Feeling the icy kiss of her lips is strange at first¨Cas well as the feeling of my body heat being almost whisked away by her coldness¨Cbut I don''t draw away from her. Instead, I slide my hands along either side of her waist, drawing her closer to me. Before the kiss becomes too deep and we''re driven to distraction, she places both of her hands on my chest again to make space between us. I don''t want it to end, but I don''t try to fight forward.


    "We should go back to the others, Orion."


    "Yeah¡­ Except¡­ I don''t think we should."


    "No, I''d imagine being your age, you very much don''t think we should."


    "What are we doing here? I want you, and you want me. We''re adults."


    "Orion, did you not hear anything I said the last five minutes?"


    "I heard you, and I also heard you say that you can control it, and I don''t need to worry about it. What should I believe? That you can''t control it or that you can?"


    "Don''t be sarcastic with me."


    "I''m not, anyway I''m just trying to figure you out."


    Finally, I move a fraction of another step forward so that I press harder against her two hands on my chest. It''s not forceful, but it is purposeful. Unfortunately, I also almost wind up falling forward flat on my face because one moment, she''s in front of me, and the next, she''s about twenty paces away. The speed of her movement takes me by great surprise, and I catch myself before falling.


    "Holy shit, Cass."


    "I''m not doing this here or now."


    I exhale loudly to get my hormones in check and settle back down.


    "I''m returning to the others, Orion. Join us when you''re ready."


    I start to say something, but I realize she''s already gone. Instead, I stand there alone, just off the traveler''s path, with a horrible discomforting need in my lower extremities. I shake my head at myself and then run a hand over my face. Then, I mutter to no one but myself before walking uncomfortably out of the brush and back towards the group.


    "Well¡­ Nice job, idiot. Well played."

 Chapter 9.1: The Pixies Spark

    Affixing my quiver to my lower back and side and slinging my bow over my shoulder finishes my tracking preparations. The others are finishing gearing up as well. We had a decent camp meal, and I''m pleasantly full. Outside of the questioning look that Khalil gave me when I came back a few minutes before the meal was served, no one has said anything to me, nor has Cassandra acted in any way different than the "default" normal she''s in most of the time. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts actively. We''re about to go out to hunt and try to locate one of the more dangerous and rare beasts of the Wilds, and I certainly need my wits about me. There''s, of course, the other side of why I need to get my head on straight¨Cwe''re going out at night in the Wilds. There''s a reason why when our village goes on hunting trips and trading runs, we do our movements in the daytime and use a night guard¨Clike Aria¨Cto patrol and protect during the evening.


    Remembering the first time I saw one of the night terrors in the wild has a nice sobering effect on me. I slowly roll my shoulders towards my back, then stretch my neck in a slow circle. I feel good, but I also feel like this will be a waste of time, so there won''t be too much to fear other than it just being the Wilds in darkness. I can''t imagine the wiretail is still close to here; it''s been too long unless there was a high concentration of prey items moving around nearby. It''s possible, but it''s also just not very likely.


    I check the weight of my water flask on my side and feel over the small, hollow pipe hanging from the other side of my belt¨Cnext to my whittling knife¨Cwhich I use with the dart inside to take down small critters like grabbat when I go hunting. I do a mental checklist, and when everything seems to be in order, I turn to go to where the other two trackers are waiting. I join them in standing with the two other riders who will accompany them while pursuing our goal.


    Greeting them casually, I look around for Kline and Cassandra. They seem to be chatting just out of earshot, but I don''t care enough to waste the energy to try and listen in. Their conversation doesn''t last long, and afterward, the pair come over to stand beside us. Khalil has settled down next to one of the lounging wiretails and rests his back against the great cat''s shoulder blades with closed eyes. If I weren''t so focused on the task, I might even have felt more than mild amusement at the sight. Cassandra draws my attention back to the task when she murmurs to me.


    "Ready to go then?"


    I nod in response to her, my eyes shifting to look at Kline when he clears his throat a little to grab attention. In the flickering of the fire behind him, he cuts an impressive silhouette with his additional armor and weapons¨Ca kukri and a crossbow. I can see that it makes sense for him to "lead" any kind of group. He''s precisely the sort of individual that the Blackham¨Cor any tribe probably¨Cwould love to have as a poster boy or first contact person for others to see. He''s got that "look" about him.


    "I know I don''t need to remind you all that the Wilds at night are dangerous, so I hope you maintain discipline and awareness while you''re out there. Each of you has been given a pixies'' spark to use if you are distressed and need assistance. If you see one of those sparks go active, stop whatever you are doing and make your way there. If you have to use your spark, try to stay in that general vicinity so you can be found and aided."


    I figure this is his version of a rah-rah team speech, so I stand there and listen while he continues to speak.


    "I''ll be here with the wiretails and Khalil; if I see a pixies'' spark go up, I will bring the calvary with me¨Cof that, you can be sure. If you locate the wiretail, you must lure it back here so we can wrangle it. Khalil will stay out of the way unless we find that wiretail, in which case he''ll be conversing with it when we get it under control. Any questions?"


    No one speaks up, which isn''t surprising; we''ve known the plan for days. Once done, Kline walks over and settles down next to the fire. I watch the campfire for a few moments, gazing at the embers and the occasional sparks that wisp upward into the air. Some part of me wonders if I should mention that most people don''t use a fire in the Wilds after dark. I think better of it, deciding not to say anything after remembering the laughter the trackers had for me when I asked if we would track during the day or the night. They know what they''re doing, I remind myself.


    I exhale a little, continuing to calm my mind in preparation, before walking towards Khalil. I pause next to him to lean down and squeeze his shoulder, which causes him to crack open his eyes. I give him a head nod¨Cwhich he returns¨Cbefore moving away. Cassandra quickly winds up at my side, and we move off the traveler''s path in a direction different from the other tracking duos. After walking through the relatively thick underbrush for a few minutes, I give Cassandra a little heads-up.


    "Hey," I murmur, "I''m gonna use some of my ability tonight. It''s nothing crazy; I''m just going to sharpen my senses. So, if you don''t mind, try not to make any weird smells, flash bang me, or scream at the top of your lungs randomly."


    She smirks, her seafoam eyes reflecting the moon''s provided light like a fox''s.


    "I''ll make sure to keep that in mind."


    All jokes aside, I nod to her to let her know I appreciate it. I purposefully take a deep inhale through my nose and release it. During the calming breathing exercise, I concentrate on my sluggish mind, trying to overcome the weight of trying to use my power at night under the ascendant moon. It takes more effort than I would have liked, but half a minute later, I feel the heightened sense of mental state coming from my activated abilities.


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    Immediately, I can smell the scent of stagnant water, though it isn''t too close by. My ears pick up the scritching and scratching of small animals scurrying through the underbrush. I slowly use my one covered forearm to brush back some of the thick and tangled brush that lay before us, ensuring that I hold it long enough for Cassandra to follow behind me, similar to the same method I use when hunting with Khalil. Cassandra, however, is so silent that a whisper of wind might be heard before her footfalls are. Only the occasional shifting of sticks or dry leaves gives away that she is still closely following me¨Cand that''s with my sense of hearing so magnified.


    We continue in such a way until we finally break through the tough, abundant brush and thorn patches to a much more easily traveled forest area. When we move clear of the patches of underbrush, I carefully use my whittling knife to make a long, openly visible line on the ground leading away from the spot we just moved out of. It''s enough to denote where we exited the underbrush so we know which way we can more easily return through if we have to come back this way in a hurry.


    After a few minutes of moving through the trees and light brush, I realized that I needed a little bit of altitude to get a good gaze at our surroundings. I pause, crouching so Cassandra can catch up to me. Once she crouches next to me, I murmur to her.


    "It''s too hard for me to see signs from where we''re at now; I don''t even see any obvious game trails. I''ll climb one of these trees and get a bird''s eye view. It''ll be a couple of minutes."


    She nods, so I quietly creep towards a larger tree with a good climbing structure. It doesn''t take me long to find my hand and footholds on the tree, and I quickly make my way up its trunk towards its much higher boughs and limbs. Once high enough in the tree but not so high that the canopy would interrupt my field of vision, I lean my back against the main support structure. Now stable in my place, I carefully scan the surroundings nearby and as far as I can see.


    The sounds of the Wilds at night are haunting, yet somehow, they are just as full of life as the day. My eyes momentarily catch on a bit of gray movement, and I focus temporarily on what turns out to be a simple but massive owl, hunting in the night''s gloom with its head twisting left and right. Moving on in my survey, I gaze at the ground and pause. About fifty yards from where I left Cassandra, there appears to be a mat of fur and feathers¨Cthe sign that a big cat would leave if it had left prey items and covered them for later. I study the surrounding areas more carefully now, but as luck would have it, the more I study it, the more the sign doesn''t appear fresh.


    Frowning, I go back to gazing over the land, carefully watching for any iota of movement or whispers of sound that could give away said movement. Nothing, nada, zilch. I decided we''d move toward the old sign I saw from up high and try to get a bearing on where to head next. Once decided, I carefully shimmy back down the tree trunk to the ground where Cassandra is still waiting.


    "Any luck?"


    "Not really," I mumble, "I saw some sign, but it was pretty old. Still, we should probably head that way; it''s possible when we get in close to there that we''ll see a pathway or markings that I couldn''t see from where I was."


    My tone likely gives away that I think it''s a dead end, but Cassandra nods and allows me to continue to lead our hunting party. I start to move but then stop, causing Cassandra to bump into my back.


    "Orion?"


    "Yeah, sorry, uh, I just had a thought: I wonder if you smell blood better than I do?"


    "I''m going to go out on a limb here and say yes, even with your sense of smell as it is currently."


    "Cool, let me know if you smell any. Just snap your fingers to get my attention."


    "If you''d like."


    As we start to move again, I feel better just knowing that it''s probable that if there are any recent kills, we''ll be able to be aware of them far before encountering them. My footfalls are quick and precise, and we weave through the trunks of trees and around the occasional patches of briars or thorns. Since we weren''t far from where I saw the sign when I took my bird''s eye view, we quickly located it without any trouble.


    It is as I saw it: a mess of feathers and fur, matted down and covering a few bones and remaining parts of dead animals. Nearby, underneath a tree, I move over while crouched and can see the outline of depressed soil where a giant beast rested its weight for a time. However, as I thought from a distance, the sign is old. These kills were made well over a week ago. I start to stand and plan to continue an area search, but a sudden shock of illumination flares through the treetops to our east. It''s so bright that I have to immediately cover my face with my hand, grunt in pain from being blinded, and draw back my magnified abilities since I can''t concentrate on them anymore.


    "Arghh. Fuck! I can''t see shit."


    "That''s a pixies'' spark, someone''s in it."


    "I can''t see anything, Cass."


    I try to blink away the searing white spots in my vision, but everything around is hazy and washed out with white and edges of blue and purple.


    "Grab the back of my chest strap, and I''ll guide us until you can see again."


    I feel her cold hand grip mine, and she draws me to where I can feel the strap of her crossbody light armor. I grip tight, and Cassandra does exactly as she said she would: she moves at a fairly-rapid pace, allowing me to follow her without being afraid of ramming into her or other things. I only stumble a few times as we move along, much less than I expected.


    The longer we move, the more the excruciating white fades away from my vision. By the time it''s completely, or nearly completely gone, I blink my eyes and take stock of our surroundings. I release the grip on Cassandra''s strap, which causes her to pause and look at me questioningly.


    "I''m good now, thanks, Cass."


    "Alright. Lead on then."


    I shift around to take the lead and immediately pick up the pace. We move through the woods swiftly, making more noise than I would have liked, but getting to where we can see the pixies'' spark starting to fade out in the sky is the most important thing. I slide down a slight embankment, followed by Cassandra, and land in a marshy, soupy mix of soil and swamp water.


    "Ugh."


    "I smell fresh blood; be careful now."

 Chapter 9.2: The Trackers

    The squish of oversaturated ground is impossible to silence as I try to lead us around the main area of what must be the stagnant-smelling water I had scented earlier. I also heard Cassandra''s warning, so as we moved, I carefully reached and drew my bow to nock an arrow for the ready. I hop and jump from large stable pieces of land to the next where I can, trying to keep us out of the marshy ground, which could be treacherous. Finally, we come into the space where the spark is burning out, but I don''t see anything moving. I lower my voice, once again murmuring to Cassandra.


    "I don''t see anything, and I don''t want to use my senses again in case something else happens. Do you see or smell anything?"


    "Yes."


    There''s a long, pregnant pause between us, and I shift my stance to look back at Cassandra with questions written on my face. It''s only then that I see her visage. Her fangs are completely distended, causing her lips to be ever so slightly parted and expose more than just the tips. Her ordinarily beautiful seafoam-colored eyes are dark saucers to allow in all of the visuals on a dark night¨Cmuch like a hunting cat. Her fingers are tipped by ragged nails, longer than any human''s, and look more like talons than anything else. Finally, she speaks again.


    "You will follow me. Be ready."


    That wasn''t even half of a question; it was a whole order. She moves around me, taking the lead and rapidly moving from where we are currently towards what looks like small lumps of earth covered in moss about four feet high. While Cassandra charges ahead, I follow at a few wide paces behind. She might be some kind of undead serial killer, but I am not. I know my abilities and what I''m best at¨Cand I need some space to be effective.


    We draw up to where the mounds of earth are, and I see what Cassandra must have been talking about, having seen or smelled them. Body parts are strewn everywhere like a mad beast tore the tracker and his aid asunder. Bile rises in the back of my throat, threatening to make me retch, but I force it back down. The amount of blood and viscera everywhere is shocking. The mounds seem a bit out of place for the area, with no shrubbery or trees growing from them, only mossy small hills in the landscape.


    I carefully move to a nearby tree that looks sturdy enough to hold my weight and use my free hand¨Csince my other is still holding my bow and an arrow¨Cto help me climb up and get some high ground. Once I get myself situated and my first arrow once again nocked, I spy Cassandra carefully moving toward where the brutal massacre happened around those mossy knolls.


    The moment she gets in front of the earthen mounds, I see wisps of black shapes creeping from the swampy marshes behind those knolls. I sharply whistle and point with my free hand so that when Cassandra looks at me, she immediately sees that I''m pointing out the direction of what I can tell is incoming danger. The black shapes are mutable and appear almost as oil but in a mist-like gaseous form. Night terrors. I pat down my belt and immediately open a small pocket. I force myself to concentrate and not look back up while locating the necessary tools. I draw out several pieces of very thin cloth from one pocket and, from another, a simple metal gas station lighter that I had traded for with a Wilds'' deer a while back. I quickly wrap the light linen around the front shaft of my arrow and then catch it aflame with the tiny flame from the cheap lighter.


    It''s not an actual fire arrow, and the weight will be off, but it''s the only "emergency, break glass in case of night terrors" option I have available. I quickly¨Cbut carefully¨Cdraw back my arrow, and as soon as one of the wispy, gaseous creatures starts to manifest into a corporeal form to attack Cassandra, I aim slightly higher than average before loosing. The arrow wobbles a little in flight because of the change in its aerodynamics from the tied, flaming linen I added, but I carefully corrected for it. The creature¨Cnow fully formed into a many-legged spider-like creature with great, oversized, ragged mandibles¨Cunleashes a piercing shriek of a war cry and would have probably gotten the drop on Cassandra even with my warning. Still, my arrow is already in the air. It slams into the beast, immediately igniting it as though it were made of gasoline fumes. The screech of a war cry turns into the howl of pain, and the beast runs in a small circle before it finally collapses, leaving a burning husk where, moments before, a terrifying creature was.


    "Why is it always a spider?" I growl to myself.


    Now, seeing what I saw, Cassandra launches herself at the nearest creature to form beside her. Like the first, it initially starts as an oily, black mist but rapidly manifests into the shape of a long, hundred-legged centipede-like beast. Its forcipules are oversized; from them, a black and green ichor drips to sizzle on the ground. I take my eyes away to fix another thin linen strip to the front of my next arrow and tie it off again. I hear the sounds of snarling and combat, but I force myself to concentrate on what I can control and use my cheap lighter to once again light the small linen strip on my newest arrow. While I move to nock the arrow, I look momentarily at the situation with Cassandra and company. She seems to be killing the centipede thing, having already left a ragged gouge along its back, and she doesn''t seem injured, so I focus on the next creature that has already formed.


    The creatures don''t seem to realize I exist since I''m a little further away from the action, and Cassandra is the most obvious target. Luckily, night terrors are simple-minded creatures; they usually¨Cthough not always¨Chunt in packs but don''t seem to have the same intelligence as wolves or other creatures that also hunt in packs. It''s the first time I''ve seen insect-like night terrors, and I could absolutely do without this nightmare fuel.


    The creature that''s trying to sneak up behind Cassandra is my target. It has formed into the shape of a colossal alligator tick. Its two front pincer claws are massive, over half the size of its already boar-sized body. I rapidly take aim and then fire. The arrow sizzles through the air, but because I didn''t aim quite high enough for its position in my rush to help Cassandra, my arrow strikes it in the lower half of its body, impaling one of its thick hind legs. I curse loudly, and while the huge beetle thrashes in pain and its body starts to catch flame from my arrow, it also is not dying. It roars in pain and anger, then propels itself towards the prey it can see: the still embattled Cassandra.


    "Fuck!" I shout, giving away my position in the tree that I''ve chosen.


    My hand rapidly grabs another arrow, but this time, I don''t waste time tying another linen strip on its front. Instead, my hand smoothly moves from the quiver to bow to loosing an arrow that flies straight into the beast''s side as it scurries forward to attack Cassandra. The force of the arrow knocks the beast aside, and it rolls onto its back, the fire of my first nearly-errant arrow licking up its underside towards the front of its body. The creature''s insectoid legs flail as the beast tries to right itself, but it''s to no avail. It dies there just as it is: upside down, burning and screeching in pain.


    Cassandra claws the massive centipede into halves finally and kicks the pincer side with its acidic ichor far away from her. I''m already reaching for another arrow, expecting more nightmarish beasts to attack, but as I look left and right with a new arrow, I don''t see anything. This concerns me greatly, as there were absolutely more than three things that I saw moving initially.


    The fire flickers on the two beasts I killed, slowly engulfing and burning them to ash, illuminating the area around them.


    "You alright, Cass?" I raise my voice.


    "Yes. Are there more?"


    "There was, but I don''t see them now."


    "Any signs of our ''calvary'' coming?"


    I hadn''t even thought to look for that during the ordeal, so I slowly tried to turn in the tree I''d wedged myself on. I scrupulously scan the surrounding areas but don''t see any movement or rumblings through the underbrush. I take care to tuck the last few pieces of linen back into the pocket on my belt from which I''d initially drawn them. I kiss the cheap metal lighter once and then slide it back into its pocket. A deer for on-demand fire? Best trade ever. I sling my bow over my shoulder once more and then carefully drop back down to the ground, intending to head over to Cassandra and the site of the tracker''s death.


    I move around the large earthen mounds and into the area where the pieces of a Blackham elf-kin and the poor, viper-nosed one are littered. The smell from the night terrors, both burning and dead, even overwhelms both the stagnant stench of the swamp and the smell of the dead body parts. The acrid scent gets into my sinuses and tickles the back of my throat. Before I realize it, I''m retching to the side, throwing up the remnants of our meal before we all broke camp to track.


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    "Are you alright?"


    "Ugh. Ughhh. This is awful. How are you okay?"


    "I don''t need to breathe."


    "Oh." Then I hurl once more, "Ugh¡­"


    "I assume you didn''t see anyone coming."


    "No, no, I didn''t."


    "So much for ''bringing the calvary.''"


    I grab my stomach with a hand, trying to mentally will myself to get a hold of my retching. Finally, it subsides as my sense of smell deadens somewhat to the surroundings.


    "What should we do, Cassandra?"


    "Thank you, by the way."


    "What?"


    "Thank you for the assistance."


    "I wasn''t just going to leave you there on your own."


    "I know."


    I reach down to my belt and pick off my small water flask. I take a swill of water and use it to swish around in my mouth before spitting it out. It helps with the bile of my retching. I take one more swig of water and do the same thing before placing the flask back on my belt. I want to smile at her, but she''s still in combat mode, vampire beast activated. So, instead, I asked her again.


    "Now, what do we do?"


    "Backtrack, head back to the camp, check in, and maybe murder Kline and the others for not coming."


    "Skip the murder part, and I''m on board."


    "If you insist."


    I smile a little; at least she''s got some humor about her. I gaze at the first kill I made, the strange arachnid-looking creature about the size of a volleyball. The flames have already burned themselves out on it, leaving nothing but a husk and shell of what was. I walk over to retrieve my arrow from its body and look it over. Ruined. I toss it to the ground with a sigh, even though I know I have plenty of them on me.


    "Not your first time encountering a night terror, I see." Cassandra intones as she moves to follow me.


    "No, but the ones I saw before looked like rodents of unusual size."


    My attempt at humor falls flat, and Cassandra maintains silence behind me. Oh well, you can''t always get a hit with pop culture references. Our feet squish and make sucking noises as I lead us away from the marshy landscape in the direction we initially came from. I''d rather take the same general direction back that we came in, so it will be easier to find the path we made through the briars and thick underbrush at the beginning of our trek.


    I hop over a large pair of logs and immediately realize I''ve made a terrible mistake.


    These are not logs.


    Immediately, the "logs" shift and move, drawing off the ground on four legs supported by a thick, double-spiked tail. The pair of two-headed beasts are similar to the human lands'' alligators¨Cexcept for the razor-sharp spikes lining down their back that they raise on being disturbed and the two heads that are generally used to bite and split apart their prey.


    "Basiliscu!" I shout in warning, which is enough for Cassandra to leap into action even if she doesn''t know what they are.


    Luckily for us, the murder logs were also not expecting to be straight-up leapt upon, so they''re as startled initially as we are. Cassandra immediately throws herself onto the back of one of the beasts, very likely injuring herself on its spines. Since I don''t have access to anything but my bow and a whittling knife, I draw out an arrow and use it to stab into the side of the two-headed beast whirling and splashing in the shallow muck water to try and bite me along its side. I know it won''t kill the beast, but I had to do something.


    The two-headed beast that Cassandra threw herself upon is flailing and thrashing, and its spiked tail comes within inches of slapping into my legs which would have surely crippled me. She uses her claws to drive down on the beast repeatedly, at the back of its pair of heads where they meet shoulders. I fling myself away from the beast that is now tracking me just in time, as the jaws snap only a short distance from me, where I was just a moment before.


    After rolling on the ground, covered in moss and wet swamp slime, I shove my hands down into the squishy mud and moss mixture, trying to get purchase. Getting traction, I jump away from the beast''s next attack, which I know is coming. Sure enough, I don''t have but a moment''s time to get my feet underneath me when I see the basiliscu''s pair of teeth-lined heads rapidly flying in my direction, having used its powerful tail to launch itself forward. I roll to the side again, winding up back in the muck but out of the way of the beast''s attack.


    The arrow sticking out of the creature''s side seems to have only enraged the beast rather than do any meaningful harm to it. Too worried about my own survival, I haven''t the slightest clue how Cassandra is managing, though I do hear the sounds of furious screaming, snarling, and violence in my periphery. Or perhaps that''s just around me?


    Once again, the two-headed basiliscu turns to try and land a more direct attack on me. I''m faster to my feet this time and sprint for the nearby semi-dry land¨Cwhich also has trees on it. I hear the forceful clap of two jaws missing their mark inches behind me, which means I have a few seconds to find somewhere to jump. The first tree I see that is thick enough to hold my weight is exactly what I go for. I launch myself into the air, dripping filth from my clothing, catching and then dragging myself up onto the trunk of the tree and off of the ground. Moments later, the tree itself shakes from the impact of the apoplectic beast running into it and missing its attack on me.


    I take a few moments to catch my breath before unslinging my bow and rapidly firing arrows into the back of the beast underneath my tree as it tries to quickly leverage itself to leap upwards at me with its muscular tail. After three arrows on its upper back and one in the left-most head, it hisses and takes off¨Cfleeing back towards the murky water where it was spending its night before my clumsy interruption. Once the danger to me has lessened I look to try and see Cassandra. She is already coming out from the muddy water, but she''s bloody and clearly wounded. The beast she was on is torn into, and I realize she must have used her clawed, taloned hands just to rend and gash until the beast no longer moved.


    I lower myself from the tree, putting my bow back over my shoulder, and jog over to her. As I get closer, I realize it''s more than a few wounds that are on her body.


    "Holy shit, let me help."


    "I''ll be fine; I just need a few minutes."


    "Like hell you''re fine!"


    "I''m wounded from it''s back, it didn''t bite me."


    "That doesn''t mean I can''t help you. Come on."


    I reach for her bloody arm, and initially, she rips it away from me. It''s only through altogether dropping her arm that I manage not to get scoured by one of her bloody and viscera-covered talons in the process.


    "I said I''ll be fine."


    "And I don''t fucking care what you said!"


    Instead of an arm, I grab hold of the strap across her chest for the light armor she wears. I essentially dragged her across the ground and towards the side of the marshland I ran to. Once we''re out of the moist and watery ground, I release my grip on her and reach down to where I keep my bandage wraps.


    "Orion."


    I continue opening the pouch, ignoring what I think is her protest, and when I pull out the bandages, she speaks more pointedly again.


    "Orion."


    "I said I''d help you, so let me get these wr¨C"


    Preparing to wrap the first of the puncture wounds I saw on her initially, I trail off my voice. In front of my eyes, the wounds underneath the now-torn clothing she''s wearing are re-knitting and closing. Along the side of her body, which was the one she landed on the spiked back of the basiliscu, Cassandra''s skin is growing paler in small increments with each wound closed.


    "Holy¡­ Wow."


    "I told you, I just needed a few minutes. You should use those bandages on yourself."


    I look down to follow her gaze. Along my arms are scratches and a few tears of skin from where I was flinging myself along the ground, trying to avoid being torn into halves. I simply didn''t notice the pain from them initially due to the adrenaline rushing through my body. They definitely need more than simple bandages in a couple of spots and will probably require campsite stitches or healing if one of the Blackham people can do that.


    "Okay¡­"


    I''m still a little dumbfounded by the rapidness of her healing ability, but I know I shouldn''t be. After all, it''s kind of what her people are known for. They are hard to kill, can heal wounds, and are vicious in hand-to-hand combat. All boxes are checked here.


    "We''ll get somewhere a little safer, and I''ll wash these out with water and then bandage them. Afterwards, we head back."


    "Sure, Orion."


    I exhale a little more, still trying to calm my nerves, before starting back through the wooded forest, not trying to hide our footfalls or lower noise. We jog at a good clip, not an all-out run, but it takes us back to where we found the big cat''s signage fairly rapidly. I crouch down once there and take a few minutes to bandage up the worst of my arm''s wounds. After getting them wrapped about as well as I could with the minimal amount of bandaging gauze I carried, we set back out, heading toward where we initially pushed through the dense underbrush.

 Chapter 10.1: The Suite

    Micah moves through the barn-come-residence, looking for Tallulah. The shift from day to night hasn''t lessened the heat and humidity, and his head has little beads of sweat threatening to run down the sides at any moment. He looks irritated, but he has been searching the grounds for Tallulah for the last twenty minutes, and none of these parasite fey are even trying to help him out. He curls his lip in some degree of disgust. Ungrateful pigs.


    As he crosses through the barn to the other side, yet again not seeing the silvery gray-haired newest pet of the house, his irritation only grows. Stopping a couple of the pointed ear fey to ask if they''ve seen her gets him nowhere. He even asks one with a mohawk of small ridge bones from forehead to spine. He''s about to lose his temper when, by chance, he sees the aged faerie walking along the interior perimeter fence and watching the dogs as they lazily traverse the grounds on the other side. Muttering to himself, he picks up his pace and moves to catch up with her.


    As he draws closer to her, he doesn''t bother to mask the sounds of his boots crunching over the sculpted gravel so she knows someone is walking up to her. Tallulah turns, hearing the approach of another, and her eyes momentarily give just enough of a tell to show that she''s disappointed in who is coming up to her. This irritates Micah more, but he wills himself to bite it down and swallow it.


    "Miss Tallulah?"


    "Hello, yes. Micah, was it?"


    "That''s right."


    "How are you tonight, Micah? What can I help you with?"


    "Just fine, thank you. I''m to show you to your new room and get you sorted with your new stylist and tailor."


    "My what and what?"


    Micah smiles, but Tallulah can see it''s not a genuine smile, just a polite one. This is the most Micah has talked with Tallulah, and she can tell he''s annoyed¨Cor perhaps disappointed¨Cabout having to do this.


    "Well, the house is certainly not going to have you walking around and being around others of our kind looking like, well, that."


    Tallulah looks down at her clothing, which has been washed since the faeries were found in the forest and brought back to the homestead''s grounds. It''s typical wear for her people in the Wilds¨Ca generic t-shirt and jeans she traded for earlier in the year¨Cbut she understands it''s not the fashionable trends that those inside the house seem to adhere to.


    "Okay, but I didn''t ask for my own room."


    "They''re not going to have you continue sleeping in a barn. They''ve already expended some resources to prepare a room for you, and people are waiting for you to get started. Will you accompany me?"


    The stilted manner of Micah''s speech seems forced as if he''s trying to sound older and more important than he is. Tallulah''s thoughts drift back to what Elijah told her the first night she talked to anyone: Micah is up for review to become a vampire, so he will be a stickler for the rules. She understands and decides she''ll not make an issue of it; instead, she''ll pose her questions to Kofi when they chat next.


    "Okay, sure. Sorry, I wasn''t trying to be difficult."


    "It''s alright. Follow me, please."


    Micah turns, leading the pair of them but surprisingly not towards the side entrance that comes from the house and leads towards the stables. Instead, Micah takes her directly around the front of the grounds so that she gets to see the homestead mansion in its front-facing glory. The moon overhead is full and glints off the glass, perfectly placed in the stone and wooden structure. Tallulah gazes up at the moon as they draw around to the front of the place, momentarily soaking in its ascendance as she was while walking the grounds before Micah''s interruption.


    Her attention quickly drifts to the change in the front of the home. There is an extensive line-up of mostly expensive vehicles, all carefully parked in and along the drive that leads down the side of the mountainous rise the homestead is on. There are easily twenty vehicles of all shapes and sizes, some of which have non-discrete individuals¨Cclearly chauffeurs¨Cstanding or leaning outside the driver or passenger sides.


    "Something going on tonight?"


    "Yes. It''s the full moon."


    Puzzled and still looking for more information, Tallulah presses Micah a little more for some scraps of information.


    "I know; I was enjoying its radiance before you found me. But what does that have to do with the amount of cars here?"


    "You''ll find out soon enough."


    Micah quickly responds in his cryptic and clipped manner, and Tallulah momentarily wonders if she should interpret that ominously. Instead, she drops the matter entirely and follows him in further silence.


    They make their way up the engraved and sweeping stairs to the front of the homestead, and unlike the other night, four large individuals are carefully spaced directly at the open, front double doors leading inside. Micah inclines his head to the quartet before passing by, and the four study Tallulah as she quickly moves to follow him. Bouncers? Bodyguards? This is just weird, Tallulah rolls over in her mind.


    Into the beautiful home they go, passing by the sweeping staircase that leads to the second floor. Instead of going up, they head down a separate wing, completely to the opposite side of where the stables are. There is a much greater host of guards patrolling the hallways and stationed at points inside; even though they''re trying to be invisible, to her, they stick out with their all-black attire and solemn countenances. Some of them even wear balaclava masks underneath their hats so that all that can be seen of them is their eyes. Tallulah considers that they may be invisible to the vampires while also being available at any moment.


    Tallulah¨Cstill in thought and taking in all of the changes of the night¨Ccontinues to move after Micah''s lead through a large parlor and gathering area, which has a few well-dressed people standing with less well-dressed ones. Pale or pallid in their skin tones, Tallulah realizes there are even more vampires here than the other nights. With what Micah said, the number of cars, and simply the number of these creatures, it''s clear that some special gathering must be happening. Her eyes pass over one of the vampires¨Cwith his old-looking jeans, ill-fitting t-shirt, and devil-may-care bedhead hairstyle¨Cshe wonders if he''s the black sheep of the family, who hasn''t "figured out" how-to-vampire yet or something. The vampire she was trying to judge based on his garments stares with dark eyes back at her¨Cit feels like he is looking her over as if she were a piece of meat¨Ccausing Tallulah to break eye contact shortly after that.


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    Finally passing through the large parlor, they make their way to what is a residential wing. Most¨Cif not almost all¨Cof the doors are closed. They each have obvious security system points on each door, and Tallulah supposes there''s more security hidden from view. Micah finally slows to a stop next to an open door, directly next to a small parlor with its own wet bar, lounge area, and television. No one is inside that parlor, but the large suite room they stopped at seems to have a couple of people inside. Tallulah starts to head inside the room, but Micah stops her.


    "One moment, Miss Tallulah. We need to scan your print and eye into the security system so you can be given the access you''re supposed to have."


    "Alright, sure. If that''s what we need to do, let''s go ahead and do it."


    Micah waves over one of the people from inside the room to where he and Tallulah are waiting outside. Micah doesn''t have to explain much and steps back when the young man moves forward next to Tallulah. He''s still alive, evidenced by how much he fidgets, and Tallulah supposes it makes sense. Why would vampires be bothered to do the grunt work when they have an army of people wanting to earn vampirism who will do it for them? The man walks Tallulah through scanning her hand print and then a retinal scan, using his computer gadgets¨Cshe doesn''t know what they are and doesn''t bother inquiring. It only takes about five minutes to get it all squared away, if that, and to test, he has Tallulah scan her handprint on a small panel on the hallway wall. They all hear the door make a noise like it would be unlocked, and so the man announces that it works, gathers his things, and leaves without fanfare as though he has other just as essential appointments to get to.


    "Okay then. That was easy."


    "Yes, we have highly skilled individuals on hand to maintain our security here. They''re paid well, but most aren''t doing it for a paycheck. Let''s go ahead and get you settled inside."


    With that, Micah gestures her inside of the suite. It''s larger than her entire home in the village back in the Wilds, with sweeping stone, wood, and steel designs. There''s even a tiny jacuzzi tub nestled into a corner next to¨CTallulah denotes with some amusement¨Can electric fireplace. There are plenty of floor-to-ceiling windows, and Tallulah isn''t foolish to think they aren''t just as secure as the rest of the home. Indeed, she doesn''t see any latches to open or close them from the inside. To his credit, Micah allows Tallulah to drift through the room uninterrupted while ignoring the other two people standing patiently inside to check out her new living space.


    "This is pretty amazing. This isn''t a bedroom; it''s like a palace''s suite."


    "It was chosen for you. Are you pleased with the selection?"


    "Hmm, yeah, this is¨Cwho in their right mind wouldn''t be pleased with it?"


    "In this world, to people of whom money is no object, overlooked minor details can ruin entire expansive projects."


    Tallulah "hmms" at that, thinking it over, before she dips her head to Micah in understanding.


    "The gentleman and the lady here are your tailor and stylist, respectively. I''ll leave you in their capable hands for now. I''ll be back for you in a couple of hours unless you''d like to be accompanied by someone else?"


    "Er, no, you''re fine?"


    For some reason, Micah''s phrasing seemed a little like a trap, so Tallulah just tried to give the most obvious response. Micah purses his lips a fraction, making Tallulah think she might have made the wrong choice, but nothing comes of it. He excuses himself and makes his way out into the hall and away. Tallulah reaches up with her hands and rubs them momentarily on each side of her mouth and chin, then exhales outwardly and a little noisily. Finally, she turns to look at the two left inside.


    "Hello. So, what''s the plan?"


    Big smiles greet her¨Cfake or not is hard to tell¨Cand a whirlwind of fabrics, colors, measurements, and off-the-cuff jokes about her bosom fill the air for the next hour. Tallulah feels like a visitor to her body, being turned this way and that, probed and prodded, arms turned and legs readjusted. At the same time, they measure, make notes, and ask her about four hundred times which of this or that color or texture she prefers¨Ceven if they look or feel identical to her senses.


    The two are nice enough, though she''s not foolish enough to think they''re not just putting on a front so that Tallulah doesn''t think of them as anything but perfect members of the household. By the time they, not Tallulah, settle on her attire for this evening¨Can emerald green affair with gold trimming that the stylist insists on¨CTallulah is rightfully knackered. The tailor has a list of planned clothing for Tallulah now and says it will take a few days to get through. He adds that he''ll be back in half an hour with her gown for the night, and the stylist says she''ll have makeup at the same time.


    The pair leaves, closing the door to the room with an audible hiss, and Tallulah immediately goes over to flop down on one of the sitting areas'' sofas with an oomph of air rushing out of her lungs. Closing her eyes for a few minutes, she leans back and rests, trying to figure out how¨Cor why¨Cshe decided to agree to this madness. Mulling it over in her mind, she comes to the same answer each time: she found Kofi charming, disarming, and inviting. Ultimately, no matter what face she presented to her people, in her heart, she wanted something new, something different from her life in the Wilds.


    Tallulah mulls over that realization of herself for a time. Is it selfish to want for herself after a lifetime of being a good member of their Wilder village? If she wanted something more, why didn''t she join another tribe of fey? Is it just because this is such an unheard-of event¨Cwith an unexpected turn of dealing with vampires¨Cthat she''s making such a dramatic change in her life? Is she greedy or finally deciding to do something for herself?


    So many questions spin through her mind that she tries to force them to stop. If she had some smoking leaf, she could easily calm her mind and relax, but they don''t have any that came with them through the seam, and she''s fairly certain vampires wouldn''t have access to something like that grown in the Wilds. She knows they have things here in the human world, but it''s not the same as what''s cultivated in the Wilds. She sighs, realizing that might be one of the few things she will miss unless she can figure out how to access it through a fey trader or something.


    Tallulah opens her eyes and looks upwards at the ceiling. She suddenly laughs, openly and loudly, seeing the mural that''s been added overhead. It''s a very large recreation¨Cdone well¨Cof Theodor von Holst''s The Fairy Lovers according to a little placard. Clearly, that''s been added in the last few nights for her benefit, as maybe some weird version of vampire humor again. She laughs again at the absurdity of it all. She went from living simply and being happy to being pulled to an unfamiliar and somewhat hostile land, getting punched in the jaw, watching associates get slain, wooed by a vampire, and now sitting in some almost-palatial suite waiting on some tailor and stylist to come and gussy her up for something later tonight. It truly is preposterous when she thinks about it in that way.


    She will completely understand when the inevitable dark looks start to come from her people still resting outside in the stables-turned-residence. Tallulah sighs, suddenly feeling a bit deflated. How is she going to explain this to them? Some might understand that she''s doing it so they can be returned safely to their village and homes, but others will accuse her of losing her way or being manipulated against her good sense.


    Maybe it doesn''t matter what they think at all, Tallulah muses. It''s not like they stepped forward when those vampires advanced with guns and fangs. It''s not like they got cold-clocked for trying to stop violence. What were they doing? Crying? Hiding? So what if a few of them think she''s doing all this now for herself? Maybe part of her is, and Tallulah realizes with some growing degree of acceptance that perhaps she''s fine with it. She earned her right to change, and she''s put in her time and life.


    Tallulah is fine with trying something new.

 Chapter 10.2: The Full Moon

    Left to mull over her thoughts, desires, and wishes, the time before others return seems to happen in a flash. Knocks on the door quickly turn into a flood of people entering the room. Apparently, it''s a whole event to get prepared for whatever she''s being prepared for, and she finds herself being pulled into the suite''s bathroom and assisted in being cleaned up. She almost draws the line there for a moment but then clamps it down internally, instead allowing this whole new environment to manifest. The new people introduce themselves, but with a whirlwind of names and faces, Tallulah quickly forgets as soon as they leave the room. The stylist shoos others as they finish aiding, and slowly, the numbers of people dwindle to the tailor, the stylist, and an assistant.


    Standing there, naked as the day she was found and adopted in the Wilds, Tallulah doesn''t feel ashamed. She doesn''t feel anything like she would usually feel; this is a new world for her, and she''s bound and determined to make the most of it. Tallulah keeps silent outside of the basic conversation, mostly revolving around quick adjustments. The three aides chatter to each other in their own fabric and textile lingo, and before too long, Tallulah finds herself having makeup brushed on, dressed, and wearing proper shoes for the emerald evening gown they''ve chosen for her. With a couple of somewhat excited handclaps, the stylist gushes that she looks absolutely perfect, though the tailor grouses about how they could have done more if they''d had more time.


    Tallulah moves to stand in front of one of the large mirrors within the room and slowly turns to view herself. The stylist and her assistant stand there like proud parents watching a baby''s first steps. Her long and silvery gray hair is braided ornately, with tiny woven flowers carefully placed here and there to accent the work done. The makeup has shaved at least ten years from her looks and is done to be regal and elegant while positively enhancing her thin bone structure. The gown is a vivid emerald green¨Cover top of a shape-maintaining undergarment corset¨Cwith the gold embellishments the stylist earlier dictated must happen. They did do a good job, she realizes, tilting her head this way and that as she gazes upon someone she isn''t sure she even knows: herself.


    A knock at the door draws all of their attention, and the tailor quickly makes his way over to open it. Micah allows himself in, and the trio of stylists, with her assistant and the tailor, all politely exit the room, their jobs done for the night. For a moment, Micah stops and looks at Tallulah, and she can tell that he did not expect the transformation to be so successful with her. She offers him a little smile, which seems to shake him out of the near-stare he had adopted.


    "Ah, hello again¨C" Micah clears his throat, as his voice was a little weak initially, "¨CApologies, hello again, Miss Tallulah. Are you ready for me to accompany you?"


    "Yes. But, before we go, where are we going?"


    Micah hesitates, clearly unsure if he''s supposed to share the answer to Tallulah''s question, which is very likely why he has been cagey about it all evening. Tallulah tilts her head, giving her most innocent look, almost begging him without words to share what he knows.


    "Eh¡­" There''s a long pause before Micah finally continues speaking, "The house is holding court tonight, as with every full moon. The basic overview is that many attend to socialize, trade information, make deals, and¨Cif necessary¨Creaffirm their loyalty to the house. Er, among other things."


    Tallulah furrows her brow, not understanding why he didn''t say that earlier if that''s all. She tilts her head questioningly.


    "That''s all? You made it seem like it was a gathering of some secret society or something."


    "Well, I mean, technically, it is."


    "I guess you''re right." She laughs outright.


    "Right. Are you ready to go, Miss Tallulah?" Micah doesn''t return the laugh; he doesn''t seem to share her comedy with it at all.


    "As ready as I''ll ever be, I suppose. These shoes are going to bother me after a while, though, I think."


    "I don''t think you''ll be worried about your shoes for too long."


    Tallulah narrows her eyes at that ominous-sounding line, and as she walks towards Micah, she maintains the suspicious look, though she doesn''t say anything else.


    He holds open the door for her, then allows it to close behind them. As they walk through the halls, she sees that there isn''t the same amount of vampires littered about here and there¨Cin fact, she doesn''t see any. This time, Micah leads her up some of the homestead''s sweeping steps to the second floor and guides her into the same hallway that leads to those beautiful oversized carved wooden double doors. There are two vampires, one on either side of the door, holding positions with open guns slung across their chests. She recognizes both of them: one is Rhys, the stocky, all-American-looking young man. The other is the extraordinarily plain-looking Vincent, though it took her a few moments to remember his name.


    Micah slows to a stop a few paces from the pair of vampires and nods his head to them.


    "Miss Tallulah is here as requested by the house."


    Rhys speaks up for the pair of them in response to Micah.


    "We''ll take it from here."


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    Tallulah is slightly surprised at Rhys'' brush-off and clipped tone for Micah. She turns her head a little to look at Micah''s face as he starts to back away and move back down the hall now that he''s been dismissed. He''s pretty unreadable, which makes her think this is just a typical interaction for him. What a strange hierarchy! She realizes that no matter the station of Micah with the other guards or that he''s seemingly "in line" to be turned into a vampire, he''s still treated as if you would no-name help. Rhys speaking again draws her attention back to the present.


    "Miss Tallulah, it''s good to see you''ve settled into your new situation so well."


    There doesn''t sound to be sarcasm in his words, so she offers him a little smile in response. Rhys continues speaking once he''s gained that reaction from Tallulah.


    "There are a few simple rules before you head inside. One, you do not approach the house unless you are called on to do so. Two, no open violence is allowed on these premises tonight. Three, don''t engage with¨Cor interrupt¨Cthe servants as they attend to their duties, no matter what those duties are."


    "That seems pretty straightforward."


    "Yes, of course; just remember your three rules, Miss Tallulah."


    Her three rules? Does that mean there are rules for others present? She wants to ask but doesn''t get the chance as Rhys leans over with Vincent, and they both open the double doors that lead to the ballroom.


    As Tallulah steps past the two and into the ballroom, she is shocked at the number of people inside. Easily thirty to forty vampires of all shades, shapes, and sizes. There are animals on leashes, people on leashes, two individuals in cages completely without clothes¨Cone painted like a red bird and the other a blue bird¨Cand others of varying degrees of nakedness being used as actual chairs or benches to be sat on. There are even some beautiful tropical birds that are allowed to rest on perches. Despite herself, she blurts out a laugh as she realizes that the absurdity of her whole situation continues. As a servant walks past her naked, yet painted like a peacock, with an impressive plumage of feathers spreading outwards from an anchor point in his back end, she realizes it''s all some degree of madness, and all she can do is laugh along with it. The doors are closed behind her, and a few vampires inside turn to look at her with fanged grins and open amusement.


    Past all of the absurdity, excess, and, in some cases, open debauchery sit those three chairs from the first night she was summoned to speak to Kofi. Outside of people being used as furniture, those three chairs¨Cornate and imposing as they are¨Care still the only sitting furniture in the ballroom. This time, Kofi is not in the center chair but in the left-most chair. In the center is a man who looks to be in his late forties, with faint graying along his temples and peppering of gray throughout his relatively long mustache and goatee. His piercing green eyes shift without purpose over the room, and somehow, Tallulah knows that this man is the most important in this room. In the right-most chair rests a woman, who could be carved from alabaster with her pale skin so smooth and perfect as it is. She has dark black locks of hair, curled elegantly in waves that spill down over her bare shoulders. She is slender but healthily proportionate, a true classical beauty that would turn men''s and women''s hearts regardless of age or time period. Her dark eyes seem to be paying attention to some antics with one of the caged servants.


    Kofi, resting in the left chair, is the only one of the three that settles his eyes on Tallulah as she arrives. She offers him a very slight smile, which isn''t reciprocated in the slightest. He watches her with a stone-faced look for only a few moments before pointedly looking away towards something else. Tallulah feels a little crestfallen, though she isn''t entirely sure why, and decides instead to start moving further into the ballroom so she isn''t just standing next to the doors like an idiot with no idea of what to do.


    As she drifts through the opulent room, she hears murmurs and chatter from the vampires behind her, pointing her out and designating her as "the faerie," as if she doesn''t have her own damned name! A servant comes up to her, offering a glass of what looks to be a bubbling glass of champagne. Scooping one glass off the provided tray, she starts to thank the servant, but they''re already moving away from her just as soon as she takes the glass. Her eyes follow the servant, and she sees him move over to a small table for the servers. He puts down the tray of champagne and instead picks up one of the trays holding glasses filled with a slightly viscous dark red liquid. Blood, she realizes, and the servant only pointedly brought champagne to her rather than anyone else in the room. Suddenly, Tallulah feels very, very alone and isolated.


    Trying to stave off the feeling of being a rabbit in the middle of a wolf den, she attempts to appear nonchalant when she sips the champagne in her glass. Immediately she has to resist the urge to suck in her lips to her teeth¨Cshe forgot how bitter some liquors are¨Cthough she''s sure the champagne in question is of "the finest quality." Disgusted by the taste in her mouth, she tries to find somewhere to shed the glass without it being obvious. When no place jumps out at her, she carefully walks over to one of the kneeling servants acting as a bench and carefully sets down the pretty much still full glass of champagne next to the half-naked man.


    "Sorry," she murmurs before standing back up. The man only slightly turns his head, but he doesn''t lock eyes with her at all, and the movement is so minimal that she only sees it because she is looking.


    With her hands free of holding anything, she folds them loosely in front of her while moving throughout the room. She isn''t shocked by anything inside; being a creature of moon ascendance, she''s been to some pretty bizarre engagements and over-the-top parties in her time, but she is surprised at how open and unconcerned all of the visitors seem to be. Blood is drunk from glasses¨Cand from servants here and there¨Claughter, both genuine and biting, fills the air, and all through it sit the three in the chairs, unmoving save for their eyes, emotionless expressions on their faces.


    A man wearing a sharp suit with no adornments steps out from one of the three doors behind the three chairs and makes his way next to the seated woman of classical beauty. He kneels next to her so she doesn''t have to move her dark-haired head and murmurs something into her ear. She inclines her head once, and at that, the man steps back a few paces. He clears his throat, and bizarrely, when he does so, the entire room goes silent a moment or two later. Tallulah looks left and right, then steps back a few steps so that she''s next to one of the bear-adorned marble pillars.


    As the room quiets down, the man speaks formally as though he were announcing someone before royalty.


    "Mister Benjamin Stanton wishes to bring his grievance against Mister Charles Saint Claire before the liege lord. The liege lord has accepted the request to hear the grievance tonight. Misters, please step forward before your liege lord who will adjudicate the dispute."

 Chapter 10.3: The Disobedience

    So, is this ballroom party also some courtroom? She supposes that Micah did mention "court" earlier when she pressed him. Tallulah shakes her head, not at all understanding vampires. The two involved vampires¨C"Benjamin" and "Charles"¨Cmake their way in front of everyone and stand on either side of the ornate bear inlay on the floor in front of Kofi and the other two seated vampires. Tallulah turns her head slightly as a couple of the vampires near her start whispering about the two vampires seeking a resolution to their issue. She gathers from their quick little quips that this is some long-term ordeal brought up once before. Apparently, the fact that it''s being brought up again is so tedious. As one of the two in the center of the room starts to speak, Tallulah returns her attention to the spectacle at hand.


    "Thank you for hearing my concern, your Graces. As you well know, I have dutifully maintained the health and virility of the hunting grounds you have granted me over the last decade. During such time in Asheville, I have worked tirelessly to expand the house''s holdings and press forward the house''s goals as have been outlined to me."


    The man continues for a few minutes, droning on about how important he''s been to helping the city''s tourism and bringing in visitors. Apparently, this is a top priority for vampires, as it makes it easy to hunt and feed on people who are only passing through on vacations or business trips. She finds all the self-aggrandizing chatter dull, so while that continues for those few minutes, she studies the vampires all standing about in the ballroom¨Cmany whispering amongst themselves and a few even peering back at her with looks of curiosity.


    "¡­Which brings me to the issue I''ve decided to request your judgment on tonight. Mister Saint Claire, yet again, allows his entire brood to hunt without permission at many of the bars and lounges in the downtown area of Asheville. No matter the warning, no matter how many times they have been policed by my marshal, no matter the dictate from the house to maintain their numbers, the Saint Claire brood continues to defy all."


    Finally, the man comes to an end, silence reigning for a long set of moments. Kofi, the mustached man, and the alabaster-skinned beauty watch the two men standing before them. None of the three move or prompt the other vampire to speak. After those few silent seconds, the only movement from the three seated vampires is that the woman taps one nail a few times on the armrest of her chair. Tallulah looks around, trying to decide if that action is some signal, but she shakes her head a little when no one does anything or moves. Finally, the second of the two men spoke up, drawing Tallulah''s attention back to the ordeal in question.


    "Your Graces, I appreciate the opportunity to be heard. Mister Stanton is, of course, exaggerating and misrepresenting the situation. As many of you are aware, I was given exclusive rights for two years for myself and those I have made into the ''Saint Claire brood''¨Cas Mister Stanton so called us¨Cto hunt in the district which Mister Stanton is seemingly keen to pretend is off-limits to us. During such time¡­"


    And on and on it goes. Now Tallulah realizes why those vampires beside her called this whole thing between them so tedious. She also remembers that Kofi mentioned his nights as mostly "settling unimportant and uninteresting disputes of land, property or feeding areas," and now she can see why. Here the vampires are, having a get-together with people in bird cages, folks pretending to be furniture and other party favors, and you have these two clowns who can''t seem to handle their own business elsewhere.


    "We have heard enough."


    Those four words uttered by the man sitting in the center chair ended everything¨Ceven the whispers about the ballroom. He spoke with a clear and present classical "southern" accent, seemingly not even interested in masking it like some of the other vampires had trained themselves to do.


    "This is the second time the two of you have disputed in front of your house in the last six full moons. The first time, we dictated that you would handle it between yourselves. As that has seemingly been too complex for either of you to manage, we will see to it as requested."


    The man shifts his head slightly, murmuring to the woman beside him. Kofi also turns his head, seemingly able to hear the murmur being shared between the three. The woman tilts her head ever so slightly, her nails no longer tapping on her chair''s armrest. Once that gesture occurred, the man in the center chair continued speaking in his smooth, genteel, and clear Southern voice.


    "One of the duties of our territory proprietors is to make sure that our laws and dictates are enforced. Some might say that is their primary directive at night''s end."


    Tallulah''s eyes shift over the different vampires, trying to take in faces and catalog them in her memory for later. She realizes there are too many, though, and there is no way she will remember them all. She does see Christina, though, dressed in a fine floor-length gown of cornflower blue¨Cnothing like the guard outfit and military style of dress she''d seen the vampire in prior. Christina is standing a few good paces away from Kofi''s side of the seating arrangement, with a good-looking man bent over and, Tallulah assumes, whispering into her ear.


    "With that directive being of the utmost importance to the stability of our house, our judgment is simple. We no longer recognize Benjamin Stanton''s claim to the downtown area of Asheville. Our grant of two years of rights to hunt in the downtown center of Asheville is sacrosanct, and none¨Csave those who challenge our word¨Cmay halt its fulfillment."


    Stanton, clearly being dressed down by the southern-mustached man, maintains his silence while standing still. Saint Claire, Tallulah is surprised to see, does not seemingly gloat. She quickly realizes, though, that this is not a victory for either of them.


    "That said, our grant was for Charles Saint Claire and his brood, current to the time of the grant, to be allowed to hunt that territory. Mister Saint Claire, how many have you turned since that grant was made official?"


    The man clears his throat before speaking.


    "Six, your Graces."


    "Six?"


    "Yes, your Graces."


    "You have turned six additional individuals into draugar in the past year, Mister Saint Claire?"


    "Yes, your Graces."


    The black-haired, alabaster-skinned woman blurts out a laugh. It is mirthless and sarcastic. She finally speaks shortly thereafter, and her voice is like a quiet murmur of satin, silk, and promises of infinite enjoyment.


    "That makes you the most prolific draugar in our territory, exceeding even our numbers. Were you granted permission to expand your reach in such a way, Mister Saint Claire?"


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    "No, your Graces."


    There is some murmuring around the ballroom; Tallulah looks left and right, trying to pick up snippets of the sudden conversations piping up here and there. From what she can tell, this is a big deal, and she is left to assume the reason: it can be a challenge of authority. The southern gentleman speaks once again, in his mild and relaxed manner, as if he were commenting on the weather of the evening and not adjudicating a matter of someone''s well-being.


    "You will choose six of your scions and end their existence."


    "But, your Graces, this was allowed by your laws! You told us to choose wisely and grow our house!"


    The room is silent, and some of the vampires standing closest to the two¨Cin front of the southern man, the alabaster-carved woman, and Kofi¨Ccasually and yet quickly move to a different location. The woman tilts her head ever so slightly, and the sweet, silky tone she was using just before hardens into something much more dangerous.


    "We are aware of our laws and dictates; we do not require these affectations and wailing about tonight''s adjudication. You will see to it tonight."


    "I will do no such thing; I have followed the laws of your house dutifully since my arrival¨C"


    The man doesn''t get a chance to finish his sentence. In the split second that Tallulah has blinked her eyes in surprise at the vampire''s dissent, Kofi has moved to be right in front of the man¨Chis hand is already through the center of the man''s chest and out of his back, gripping Saint Claire''s heart with taloned claws in a ferocious and mind-numbingly fast action. Instead of the gasps that Tallulah expected to hear, there''s¡­ laughter. Lots of laughter, which started from one side of the ballroom and spread throughout the rest of the room in short order. Saint Claire has just long enough to look down at the hand and arm through his chest and back up at the steely eyes of Kofi with a look of utter betrayal before his body starts to ash away, leaving nothing but dirty and dusty clothing in front of Kofi not but a few seconds later.


    The other man, managing to guard his emotions even with the violence that happened two feet from him and the cacophony of laughter in the ballroom, simply clears his throat before speaking, though he has the slightest nervous tenor.


    "Thank you for your judgment, your Graces."


    The woman absently waves a hand, dismissing Stanton from in front of the three of them. Kofi gestures at a servant, who immediately walks over to him. After a few moments of wiping off his hand and suit jacket''s arm of the viscera and ash from the man previously known as "Saint Claire," Kofi returns to where he was formerly seated. The same servant quickly cleans up the floor of the pile of dusty ash and empty clothing.


    The vampires immediately return to their ballroom behavior, as if the entire event was just an intermission between the night''s festivities. Though she''s shocked and curious about what just happened, Tallulah is also confused about the power dynamic in the room. She''d thought Kofi was the leader of the vampires here, but apparently, he''s not. Or is he? But there are two others who are similarly able? It''s quite confusing, and instead of minding where she keeps her attention, she winds up staring at the three seated vampires while she tries to figure it out.


    Some of the evening''s events seem to be getting a little more risque, and though it doesn''t make her blush, she does not particularly want to be volunteered "accidentally" to participate. She moves away from a trio of vampires who have unlocked the cage to the naked man painted as a red bird and have gone on to use him as both a dinner meal and an object of sexual gratification. As she moves away from them, she drifts closer to the only other vampire she recognizes in the room, save Kofi. As she draws nearer to Christina, the woman watches her with a very vaguely apprehensive look.


    "Hello, Christina."


    Christina momentarily flicks her eyes toward Kofi, who is seemingly occupied watching a vampire walk one of the servants on a leash through some of the grassy patches designed in the ballroom''s flooring. When Kofi doesn''t seem to be paying attention, only then does Christina return Tallulah''s greeting.


    "Hello, Miss Tallulah. Enjoying yourself?"


    "Ah, I''m not sure."


    "I''d imagine you''re feeling very out of sorts."


    "This isn''t the first time I''ve been to a party with some fucked up nonsense going on, but it''s the first time I''ve seen one of your kind die."


    Christina pauses slightly before she carefully responds.


    "It is harder to maintain control than to grasp it suddenly. Sometimes strength must be shown."


    "Yeah, I think it was pretty clearly shown."


    "You''d be surprised how things work. Saint Claire''s scions won''t be happy when they learn of his death."


    "Concerned?"


    Tallulah looks over at the inlay of the great bear on the floor, where minutes before, she watched that vampire be slain without finishing his sentence. Christina follows her gaze but doesn''t respond right away other than with a simple shoulder shrug that suggests she isn''t at all concerned.


    The man next to her, who she thought was whispering in Christina''s ear earlier, tilts his head back down and touches his lips to the side of her neck, just above one of the ornate tattoos that show on her exposed skin. Tallulah purses her lips and casually looks away, momentarily looking at the caged woman painted as a blue bird. When she gazes back, she realizes the man is biting Christina, drinking little droplets of her blood sensually. Tallulah isn''t quite sure how to react; it''s almost like walking in on someone having relations with another, but at the same time, it''s open and¡­ isn''t. If Christina registers Tallulah''s discomfort, she doesn''t show it. The beautiful dark-skinned woman, with her braided hair and flawless face, momentarily closes her eyes¨CChristina''s enjoyment of her partner''s actions apparent.


    "Ah, you''re busy, so I''ll, you know, leave you to it."


    "Hmm?" Christina groggily opens her eyes a fraction, settling them on Tallulah.


    "Enjoy your night, Christina."


    "I will; you should, too."


    Tallulah slowly backs away from Christina and the handsome yet pallid man who didn''t bother introducing himself. She realizes this must be the party period where it starts getting to be "that time" of the night. Again, she''d seen this sort of thing before, but it was a fey ordeal in a city, and this was a little different. As Tallulah is looking for another pillar to hold up, a servant with dried rivulets of blood on the left side of her neck approaches, offering Tallulah a glass of champagne again. This time, she declines, but she snags what looks like a tiny cookie from the woman''s serving tray. As the woman domestic moves away, Tallulah nibbles at the treat. It''s too good of a pastry: a few bites later, and it''s gone. She was thinking about tracking down another when the room goes quiet again, and she looked to see what was drawing attention this time.


    She sees it''s the rise of the three seated vampires that has caused the interruption in all activities¨Ceven the more open displays of fornication. All three of them move behind their chairs and step through one of the three doors held open by a guard. Kofi pauses beside the guard and murmurs something before following the other two vampires. Once the door is closed behind them, the guard weaves through the ballroom, ignoring the return to debauchery that immediately starts up again. He focuses on Tallulah and indeed stops next to her.


    "Miss Tallulah, the house would like to invite you to their private parlor."


    "Okay, sure, lead the way?" Tallulah replies without much hesitation.


    The guard turns and moves ahead of her towards the doors in question without giving Tallulah an expression to read. She follows behind, her emerald gown flowing faintly behind her as she moves. She gains more than a few looks¨Csome of them interested, some simply unreadable, some hungry, and some even lecherous¨Cbut nevertheless, she continues after the guard. Tallulah understands now why she was dolled up as she was; the "house" wanted her to be seen so that she could also be seen being called to their side in front of the large gathering. As he opens the first security door just ahead of her, she sees that all three doors open to a marble-lined hallway lined with paintings and busts. She brushes her hand over her own shoulder, momentarily touching her braided silvery gray hair, with its flowers woven in it expertly.

 Chapter 11.1: The Wilds Wine

    The guard pulls closed the door behind Tallulah with a hiss, and the click of the security locking mechanism kicks in. He rapidly moves to retake the lead, and before long, they have moved beyond the hallway into an open area of a parlor, which isn''t tiny, but it also isn''t the massive expanse that the ballroom is. Inside the parlor are the three vampires, all with drinks in their hands, and a few others in the room that weren''t in the ballroom, though several of them seem to be guards or servants in varying states of undress.


    "Hello, Miss Tallulah." The warm voice of Kofi drifts to her ears, and even though she just watched him murder a man not ten minutes prior, she finds herself with a growing smile on her painted lips.


    "Hello, Mister Freeman. Your full moon night''s festivities are¡­ interesting."


    "Yes, they can be." He drinks from the dark ruby liquid in his glass before facing the southern gentleman and the unbelievably beautiful woman, who looks almost carved and sculpted from alabaster with hair the color of a reafan''s.


    "Allow me to introduce Miss Tallulah formally." The two settle their eyes on Tallulah, and it is almost like she can feel its weight.


    "Miss Tallulah, this is Percival de Burgh, my Maker."


    The man sets down his glass and walks across the floor smoothly to stand beside Tallulah. She is surprised that he''s a relatively short man, about the same height as she is in her heels. For some reason, his presence in the other room made it seem as though he''d be much taller. He offers his hand in her direction, and when Tallulah places it in his like she''s seen done in movies, he leans forward and touches his lips to a knuckle primly. His hand, like Kofi''s, is pure ice in temperature. Once the greeting has taken place, he releases Tallulah''s hand. His facial hair is so meticulously groomed that even this close to "Percival," she can''t see one hair on his mustache or goatee out of place.


    "A pleasure, truly, Miss Tallulah. I must admit, you look quite lovely. I am pleased that you agreed to our offer." His southern speaking flows like water; she could see how one could be lulled into a false sense of passivity.


    There it is, she realizes; Kofi made an agreement with her, but she didn''t know she was making an agreement with them at the same time. Now it makes so much more sense to her why Kofi and others were using "we"¨Cthe royal we, as some people call it¨Cor plurals when talking about the leadership of the vampire group. Some part of her boils internally at what she feels is a trick or misrepresentation. Instead of letting it show, she forces herself to smile a fraction at the man.


    "I''m glad that it pleases you."


    The woman drifts closer, seemingly with no effort at all.


    "Miss Tallulah, this is Selena Conghal, my older sibling."


    Instead of reaching forward with a hand, the woman comes within an inch of Tallulah, close enough to smell the perfume that "Selena" has chosen for the evening. She places a simple kiss on Tallulah''s left and right cheeks. It isn''t a simple peck that you see would-be socialites attempting on television, but a practiced gesture that is long enough for the coldness of Selena''s skin and lips to radiate away from where Tallulah was touched and also short enough to be perfectly polite.


    "It is so good to meet you finally, darling. Kofi has shared his excitement about you with us."


    The woman doesn''t step back, so Tallulah awkwardly smiles in response.


    "I''m glad that he has spoken so highly of me."


    The woman''s dark eyes gaze over Tallulah''s face, stopping momentarily at the crow''s feet on her facial features¨Ceven as covered as they are by makeup. She raises her glass a few inches in her hand and takes a sip.


    "Oh, but our manners. Would you like something to drink? Or eat? Or¡­ partake in? We want you to be nothing but comfortable while you stay under our protection." Tallulah manages to breathe out a half-laugh. It isn''t loud, as Selena is still unreasonably close, and Tallulah is trying not to appear uncomfortable at the proximity.


    "Thank you. If I''m honest, I''d rather sit down. It''s been a long time since I''ve worn heels; our gatherings aren''t normally so glossy."


    For some reason, that seems to strike the woman as absolutely hilarious. Her facial expression shifts from placid and pleasantly indifferent to one hundred percent amused instantly.


    "Aren''t you a dear. Yes, of course, let''s all sit down. Sometimes, we forget that the living can wind up in discomfort that we no longer deal with."


    Tallulah momentarily glances at Kofi¨Cwho looks pleased at Selena''s amusement¨Cbefore moving to follow the woman vampire towards a set of lush lounges. As Selena sits down, she snaps her fingers once, and a servant hurriedly comes over and kneels next to her.


    "Fetch our guest Miss Tallulah whatever she wishes, drink or food, or other ingestibles if she prefers it."


    As Tallulah moves to sit down, she tries to put a few feet between Selena and herself, but Kofi settles down where Tallulah was intending to sit, forcing Tallulah to sit right in the middle of the pair. The southern gentleman vampire, Percival, seems more interested in conversing with a different vampire on the other side of the room and has departed to do that. The servant looks up at Tallulah questioningly and she hesitates, unsure what to say to the domestic.


    "Oh, come now, don''t be shy, Miss Tallulah. Whatever you''d like. Would you rather he massage your feet?"


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    Tallulah opens her mouth to answer but doesn''t manage it before Selena continues. She snaps her fingers, and the servant immediately slides a few feet across the floor and takes off Tallulah''s beautiful heels.


    "Er¨Cuh¨Cthank you." Awkwardly, Tallulah thanks both the servant and Selena simultaneously, even though she can''t hide her discomfort at someone just being ordered to start rubbing and massaging her feet in front of everyone else. Kofi laughs a little under his breath.


    "I think you''re embarrassing Miss Tallulah, Selena. She''s not used to this sort of thing; apparently, in the ''Wilds,'' they mainly keep to simple things."


    Selena tilts her head slightly to the side, like a curious cat.


    "She doesn''t look embarrassed, Kofi. I think your Tallulah has seen a few things in her time, haven''t you?"


    With the change of position, losing her heels, gaining a foot massager, and being between two vampires both trying to talk and get her to respond almost simultaneously, Tallulah finds herself a little overwhelmed, to say the least. Selena points a hand at one of the other standing-at-the-ready domestics, then gestures at a small bar with liquors on it, specifically an unmarked, corked blue bottle. The woman immediately moves to pouring a drink from that unmarked bottle.


    "Not too many things can make me blush if I''m honest with you both."


    If Selena could get even more amused, it would be surprising. Her painted lips twist in what might be a genuinely entertained smile, finally made complete from the faintest showing of her fangs'' tips.


    "Oh, now you''ve done it," Kofi smirks, then looks down and shakes his head ever so slightly while speaking his amused-sounding line.


    "Oh, scandalous. Miss Tallulah, I am thoroughly interested in your people. I don''t want to bore you all night with questions, but I absolutely must know: would you say that you''re more or less of the night than our kind?"


    "Both." Tallulah murmurs in response without really thinking before speaking.


    The servant massaging Tallulah''s feet moves from one side to the other when he''s nudged by Selena''s foot. As the space is being made, the woman servant who was directed to pour a drink makes her way over with glass in hand. Selena takes it from the woman¨Cand the domestic immediately moves away¨Cbefore leaning over slightly and holding it out to Tallulah.


    "Both? Oh, don''t make me pry."


    Tallulah takes the offered drink without hesitation and raises it to her lips for a little sip. After the sip, she startles a bit at the taste and lowers her eyes to the glass she''s holding in front of her lips. Amusedly, Selena leans towards Tallulah as if she were about to share a confidential secret. She murmurs just above a whisper.


    "We have people who can specially procure things in supernatural marketplaces. After you accepted our offer the other night, we ensured you would have something familiar to celebrate with. Hopefully, your Wilds'' wine is as good as the price the vendor charged us for it."


    Selena''s lips are brushing the silvery gray wisps of hair around Tallulah''s ear by the end of the whisper. Selena''s close and cool breath while she speaks doesn''t distract Tallulah, because her insides are already singing from the infused magical wine mixture she''s only had once before in her entire life. She closes her deep and vivid green eyes slowly for a few moments too long, sinking backward into the plush sofa with a little shiver. As she sinks back into comfort, taking another drink of the intoxicating elixir in her glass, she mutedly accepts that this almost feels like drowning in indulgence.


    "Mmm. They must have charged you a lot. It''s ah, delicious."


    With half-lidded eyes, she can see the fanged smiles of both Kofi and Selena. Yet, for some reason, she doesn''t feel threatened. Instead, she feels protected, welcomed even, and for once seen. Kofi raises his cold hand¨Cmuch like he did the night she still had the bruise across her face¨Cand uses his thumb to slowly trace Tallulah''s collarbone up to the side of her neck and along her jawline closest to him. Selena, still so close that her cold breath can move wisps of hair on Tallulah''s braids and tickle the soft skin of her ear, seems more than keen to converse while Tallulah willingly intoxicates herself.


    "Lucky for us, we''re very capable of maintaining a level of quality that others can only dream of. Now tell me, Tallulah¨C" Tallulah, still sipping the inebriating liquid, doesn''t register the lack of ''Miss'' prefacing her name. "¨CWhat did you mean when you said your kind can be both more of the night and less than us?"


    Tallulah inhales slowly, almost too long, then exhales comfortably through her lips. Far in the back of her mind, some part is screaming alarmingly at her about what she''s doing. It warns about the vampires surrounding her, their beauty, their ability to disarm her, the fact that they might genuinely be using their supernatural crafts on her even now, and even her wanting to stay with them. The voice in her mind, growing increasingly muted by the second that passes, is strangled into temporary silence by Tallulah raising the glass again to her lips and, this time, drinking the rest of its heaven down. As the sensation of the Wilds'' most pure and distilled rivers of energy passes through her veins, spreading outwards from her chest, that voice of warning and self-protection is silent. Tallulah smiles at Selena.


    "I''ll make sure to tell you about my kind, their kind," she says with a nod towards the window outside, "and the others¡­" Tallulah blinks a couple of times, struggling to form a complete sentence even though in her mind it''s there; it just refuses to translate through spoken word. "This drink. Is very strong."


    "Uh oh. I would have said we''d hang on every word, dear. But it seems your words are failing you." Painted lips slightly part next to Tallulah''s earlobe, and she can hear the faintest sound of Selena very clearly scenting the side of her throat.


    "Hmm, this wine you''ve gotten¡­ it''s¡­ I''ve¨C"


    Some of her mind understands that she can''t even focus her words into sentences without extreme effort, let alone answer Selena''s question about being of the night. The magical liquor Tallulah has imbibed pleasantly warms her veins, making her moon-guided energy sing and want to be used. Kofi leans in toward the delicate skin of Tallulah''s shoulder and neck. His hand drops away from her jawline, and his lips, parted by fanged teeth, take its place.


    "May I, Tallulah?"


    It takes a moment to register what exactly he''s asking. Days in the past, some part of her would have hesitated or even said to get away, but tonight, she does not feel that way at all. Instead, she feels a warm, radiating sense of desire and feeling somewhere in her chest that tells her these two won''t be harming her.


    "Yes, Kofi."


    "Lovely."


    "Do I have your trust, Tallulah?" Selena''s cool breath brushes against her earlobe again.


    "I¡­ alright." She murmurs, unsure if she trusts either of them, but some dull thrumming inside of her seems to want her very much to. It''s a hard-to-resist feeling, especially now that the Wilds'' wine is singing through her.

 Chapter 11.2: The Velvet Glove

    The supposed southern gentleman, Percival de Burgh, watches his two housemates toying with their food indifferently. He murmurs to the other vampire beside him, speaking in their Draugar language.


    "I wonder how long Selena will let Kofi keep this one."


    The other vampire¨Ca young-looking woman with bright blonde ringlets of hair¨Claughs softly as if it''s a running joke. She makes sure to respond in the same secretive language.


    "It''s almost unfair, your Grace. But I think they might keep this one a little longer than average¨Cit''s like a pitch-black wolf in a litter of normal ones. You must admit that something is alluring about keeping the unique and special."


    Percival inclines his head in acknowledgment of the woman''s words. He glances over the woman next to him like one would inspect the quality of meat or fruits. Perhaps she''s an acceptable company for him in the future.


    "Miss, you were introduced to me by your maker, and yet I''ve foolishly forgotten what you prefer to be addressed as."


    The woman doesn''t even hesitate.


    "Calliope Hollis. But, if you wish, just Calliope is fine."


    "Calliope, then. Would you care to walk the grounds with me?"


    The young vampire jumps at the chance, maybe not realizing that, much like Tallulah, she''s being sucked into the orbit of the three vampires in control of the house of vampires. As Percival and Calliope depart, Tallulah barely registers it.


    The kneeled servant continues carefully, ensuring Tallulah''s feet and calves are covered every inch in soothing massaged skin. With Selena''s lips tracking on the opposite from Kofi''s, Tallulah is truly moments away from being overwhelmed with sensation. Kofi pauses just above the jugular, and Tallulah tenses ever so slightly. Almost as if it were anticipated, Selena casually lifts the glass away from Tallulah''s hand and sets it aside, but she doesn''t release Tallulah''s hand. Instead, she raises Tallulah''s arm to her mouth and presses her lips along the underside of Tallulah''s arm until she, too, is placed above the ulnar vein. When Kofi bites down, piercing Tallulah''s skin without effort, Selena sinks her fangs into the faerie at the same time. The sensation of being pinched and bitten in two separate places at once makes Tallulah writhe between the pair of vampires. For the two vampires, having willing fey blood straight from the vein is one of the rarest things in the world, and they sup and savor with the same sort of reverence that a death row inmate puts into choosing his last meal. While Tallulah exists in bliss, the two vampires digest only a few sips of the potent and inebriated blood of the faerie in their grasp.


    Before too long, as they don''t want to damage the goods, the two vampires pull themselves away, using their tongues to close the wounds inflicted by their fangs. They don''t even take quite enough to give either of them a life-like look. For them, the magic starts while Tallulah rests in a state of both near-ecstasy and near-slumber from the unique liquor and now sudden blood loss. Selena leans past Tallulah, knowing the fey can''t likely move just yet, and she brushes her bloody lips over Kofi''s face along the bear-inflicted scars on his chin. Kofi immediately returns the kiss, smearing some little bit of Tallulah''s blood across Selena''s red lips and further down, across the alabaster skin of her chin.


    "I believe¨C" Selena murmurs to Kofi in their shared vampiric language, dragging her red lips and tips of fangs just lightly across his smooth, dark skin. "¨Cyou''ve picked a lovely one for us. I can feel the world around us, the beams of the moon¨Cevery part of you."


    Kofi doesn''t initially respond, letting the smooth rolling sensation of Tallulah''s blood both enliven him and make him aware of the moon and everything nearby touched by its light. It''s a cold yet refreshing feeling, different from the feeling that other sips of fey blood have given him. He finally murmurs a response in their language.


    "I believe so, too. Her blood differs from the others we were gifted in those bottles years ago."


    Selena responds with an "mmm" noise as if remembering it, and she looks over at Tallulah much like one would look at a favored pet¨Cexactly what Kofi said he wouldn''t do. Selena raises one hand and brushes it over Tallulah''s silvery gray braided hair before pulling off the bloom of one of the woven flowers. Tallulah is only partially aware but smiles groggily at Selena and feels no danger. Selena spins and turns around the flower bloom between her index and thumb, then shifts forward and tucks it against Tallulah''s ear on her side. When she speaks again, it''s still in the same vampiric language that they know Tallulah won''t understand.


    "Yes, this is different. The other made us feel like we were in the sun''s warmth. This feels like a walk in a crisp, clear, beautiful night like tonight."


    "She must be one of the moon faeries, and I bet the bottled blood we were gifted was from a sun one."


    And just as smoothly as they slipped into speaking their vampire language, Selena resumes speaking in the same language that Tallulah can understand.


    "I think you''re right, Kofi. We''re lucky that fate brought her here."


    Tallulah smiles, catching exactly the end of the conversation¨Cthe compliment that Selena obviously intended her to catch. Selena leans back from Kofi and slightly from Tallulah.


    "You are special, Tallulah. I believe we''ll have a lot of fun together."


    "I hope so."


    Selena smoothly stands from the lounge sofa and once again pets a hand over Tallulah''s silvery gray braided hair. Tallulah doesn''t seem to be too bothered by it, and indeed, she''s still riding the sensation of having imbibed far too much of Wilds'' wine and having less blood to dilute it in her bloodstream. Selena''s dark eyes seek out Kofi''s, and once again, she speaks in the vampiric language in front of Tallulah.


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    "Velvet glove for this one, I think. It''s a shame she''s one of the older ones. Maybe we can keep one of the younger ones just in case."


    Kofi laughs, which Tallulah doesn''t know what about, but seeing him and hearing his smooth voice in laughter feels good to her. She turns ever so slightly to look at him while he continues to speak with Selena in their unique language.


    "Yes, well, she''s the one who wasn''t afraid to step forward. The other ones outdoors seem to be the weak, scared, and basic ones. Perhaps in time, she''ll bring us more like her, and we''ll grow our strength from that¨Cand have good celebratory meals on hand."


    Selena laughs in response to Kofi, then murmurs again in a language Tallulah can understand.


    "You are so bad, Kofi darling. Tallulah, my new love, enjoy the rest of your night. I believe I feel like walking outside for a while. You''ve made me appreciate the moon tonight." Selena moves past Tallulah and traces a fingernail across Kofi''s chest. She leans down to murmur in the old vampiric language beside his ear. "Don''t spend too much time with her. And don''t break her; she''s old and frail. Come and find me when you''re done."


    After her little murmur, Selena breaks contact. She moves away further into the homestead, leaving the room with just Kofi, Tallulah, the servant still massaging her feet, and the one standing dutifully at the wet bar for the parlor. Kofi clears his throat, gathering the attention of both servants and guards.


    "Leave us."


    As expected, the two domestics exit the room as fast as they can without looking like they''re rushing about the homestead. Once they are completely alone again, Tallulah focuses her emerald eyes on Kofi''s dark ones.


    "I was mad at you earlier."


    Kofi shifts his weight slightly, turning towards Tallulah when she starts speaking. He denotes her sluggish manner of speaking¨Cthe slight slurring clearly from the specialty liquor she was served, on top of the effect of blood loss on someone already inebriated. Still, he smiles at her in such a way as to set her to smile in return.


    "Mad? What on earth for?"


    "You didn''t tell me you ruled with two other vampires."


    "I suppose you''re right in that I didn''t. We have ruled together for a¡­ large amount of time now, what comes as second nature to me I sometimes forget is unusual for others and outsiders."


    "Am I an outsider, Kofi?"


    Tallulah leans up from her sunken state on the parlor''s plush sofa, drawing closer to the handsome man with his ornate snake-braided hair. He doesn''t react, nothing like just earlier before he bit her in tandem with Selena. She hesitates but overcomes it by slowly reaching her hand up to touch along one of Kofi''s immaculate braids with her fingertips. He doesn''t draw away from the older fey''s touch.


    "Of course not, you were, but now you are certainly not. Do you know how many jealous vampires you left behind tonight in that ballroom? Their desires and wishes mean nothing; it''s all the same nonsense from month to month. You? You are different. So no, Tallulah, you are not an outsider here."


    "You''ll make me blush if you keep complimenting me like that, Kofi."


    "Too late, I think."


    Tallulah grins a little, which is reciprocated by Kofi almost exactly. He''s not wrong, though, she realizes; she does have a pleasant flush to her cheeks and body. Resolved now that this is what she wants, Tallulah leans forward and presses her lips against the slight smear on his chin caused by Selena. Having killed her internal warning siren earlier, she doesn''t seem to mind much when he stands and offers Tallulah his hand. She places her hand, which was just touching his head, in his and lets him draw her onto her bare feet. He seems to realize she''s not wearing her shoes¨Cbecause of the earlier massaging¨Cand starts to move to pick them up for her.


    "No, Kofi. You can leave them."


    "Oh, I don''t know, you probably don''t want to walk around without¨C"


    "¨CI''m fey, Kofi; we run through the Wilds barefoot all the time. I''m sure I can safely walk around on your fine polished marble and carved stone."


    She steps closer to the man who looks like he could be old enough to be her son but who she knows is far older than she is. She places her free hand on his bare chest since he''s once again elected not to wear a shirt underneath his suit''s jacket, choosing to ignore the numbing cold that radiates from him along her skin. Her fingers trace the three ragged scars marked on him by some bear in the long-lost past. Tallulah takes a few seconds to look at him directly in the eyes before lowering her head and pressing her lips against his dark chest, just underneath his collarbone. Kofi takes the hand he''s already holding and presses his lips to the center of her palm.


    "Do you want to come with me somewhere even more private, Tallulah?"


    The tone of his voice suggests sensualism¨Cthe raw draw of the classic vampire¨Cand Tallulah welcomes it and the spell that she finds herself wrapped up in.


    "Yes, I would like that very much, Kofi." Her voice is soft, nothing like the practiced vampires'' sultry tones, but clear enough in her desire.


    "I''ll have to drink a little more from you to give you what you''d like, but that will sort itself out; I''ll make sure not to take too much."


    "I don''t care if you do."


    He slowly steps back from her, still holding her hand, and moves to walk further into the homestead with Tallulah in tow. They stop next to a suite similar to hers until she realizes it is hers and laughs softly. She reaches over and touches her hand to the security panel, which unlocks the door for them both. She starts inside the room and then pauses, which makes Kofi pause behind her.


    "What did Selena say to you before she left?"


    The abrupt question seems to catch Kofi off guard, but Tallulah, in her mostly inebriated state, is impressed at how quickly he recovers.


    "She gave me her blessing and told me to enjoy my night."


    "Are you two¡­"


    "Don''t feel jealous, Tallulah. The three of us are intertwined in a way that is too complex to describe, but we''re also our own person. I choose to do as I like, just as she does."


    "So, Percival, too?"


    "It''s complex, as I said, but he''s our maker."


    "Good, I won''t be jealous then."


    Kofi doesn''t add anything to Tallulah''s talk of jealousy. That seems to both satiate and end Tallulah''s questions. She steps backward, gripping Kofi''s hand to pull him inside the room with her. As soon as he''s behind the closed door with her, they acquaint themselves physically with each other''s bodies; Tallulah''s passionate tension leads the way for the pair during the rest of the night.


    Several hours before dawn threatens to rise, Kofi Freeman departs silently from Tallulah''s room to go elsewhere on the homestead''s grounds.

 Chapter 12.1: The Calvary

    Pushing through the brambles and underbrush is annoying enough, but I also have to constantly keep the wounds I''ve covered with gauze from being caught on the multitude of branches and twigs that seem determined to catch the stretchy material. Behind me, Cassandra has maintained almost complete silence, allowing me to lead without interruptions. She nods when I gaze back at her intermittently to ensure she''s having no trouble. By the time we''ve pushed through, most of the gauze has wound up left behind on some briar or branch, where I just chose to give up on keeping it wrapped.


    "Finally." I pant as we find the traveler''s path again. "Now, to find the others. They''re probably this way. If we don''t hit them in half an hour, we''ll come back and try the opposite way."


    "Okay."


    I turn my head to look at Cassandra, momentarily forgetting that it''s more unusual for her to be chatty. So when I look at her for a period, she gives me a slightly hardened yet questioning glance.


    "What, Orion?"


    "Everything okay?"


    "That depends on your definition of ''okay,'' now, doesn''t it?"


    "Yeah, alright."


    I shake my head and then slowly start to jog ahead, wanting to find out as quickly as possible why Kline and company didn''t bother to help out their two people and why we wound up having to fight for our lives alone because we stuck to the plan. Ignoring the stinging of my open scratches and wounds, I concentrate instead on making sure the sounds of us jogging are the only out-of-place ones in our vicinity.


    I reflect on the night so far while weaving along the path with its brambles and bushes ominously looming on either side. A large part of me is thankful that Cassandra chose to come with me into the Wilds tonight. I''ve heard many tales of people who left the traveler''s path at night and were never heard from again. Truthfully, I believe I would have been one of them tonight. If the night terrors hadn''t overwhelmed me, the basiliscu would have ended my life in a pretty gruesome way had I stumbled on them alone. After years of going on little hunting trips for my village, I thought I was a pretty good hunter, but now I know I''m still an amateur at best. There''s so much that I don''t know how to recognize until it''s seemingly too late¨Clook at how I "discovered" the pair of basiliscu; I simply stumbled over them like a fucking moron.


    Familiar snarling and growling at a close distance shake me out of my period of reflection, but I don''t change our jogging pace. Instead, we move closer to the noise, my hand reaching up towards my bow and resting on it as we turn the next winding curve of the traveler''s path. Ducking below a partially fallen tree, I finally observe what is making all the noise: our party''s assorted saddled wiretails. The other tracking party duo is present, trying to calm down the six saddled wiretails, but they are quite worked up, and even from this distance, I can see their long tails quivering, with the razor-sharp quills lining their tails primed and only moments from being used on whatever they''re focused on in the campsite.


    I clear my throat loudly as we start to draw closer; I don''t want to become an accidental mauling statistic because we stupidly snuck up on agitated wiretails. The cats turn at the noise and growl, but because I gave enough space and warning with my loud noise, the two Blackham can get the wiretails pulled back into some degree of containment. With Cassandra following me, I carefully move around the group of wiretails and into the temporary camp. My eyes carefully take in the sight before me: Khalil is crouched next to a wiretail caught and bound in some kind of supernatural netting that has shrunk precisely to the size needed to fully constrict the big cat.


    Sure enough, it''s the bull-sized cat that hunted Khalil and me back to our trader wagon those couple of weeks ago. Seeing it brought down and groggy, captured by netting that the Blackham used to perfection, makes me a little uncomfortable. Upon seeing Cassandra and I enter the camp, Khalil stands up and exclaims.


    "Ori! Dude! Where have you two been? Holy shit, I was worried!"


    "The fuck do you mean ''where have you two been''? What happened to bringing the calvary when someone popped a pixies'' spark?" While speaking, my anger spikes, and I don''t resist it.


    "What are you talking about? No one used a pixies'' spark that we saw."


    Kline makes his way towards us from just up the road, picking up his pace when he sees me and Cassandra standing there. I''m still too mad to be done bitching at Khalil, so for now, I ignore Kline''s movement in our direction.


    "Well, the other two people in our little tracking expedition would fucking disagree with you, Khalil. They''d very much disagree if they could, but as it turns out, they''re dead and torn into about fifty different pieces. We almost joined them too when we went to their pixies'' spark, found no cavalry, and were completely alone."


    "What the fuck?!" Khalil spits his next question at Kline as he draws into conversational range, "How did we not see a pixies'' spark? My guy almost died; look at his arms and face!"


    Before I can turn my wrath onto Kline, Cassandra blurs past me, and Kline winds up on his back about five feet from where he was previously standing. Cassandra bares fangs down at him, her rapid change of demeanor startling me yet again. Her seafoam eyes, usually so curious and at times calculating, are wide and full of towering rage. On his back and pinned underneath Cassandra, Kline does pretty much the only thing he can do: hold up his hands in her direction, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.


    "Cassandra, what is¨Cwhat''s wrong?"


    I stalk in their direction since it''s only a few feet away. I loom over the both of them, staring angrily down at Kline.


    "You want to know what''s wrong, Corporal? I''ll answer for both of us. You said you''d send the calvary if someone needed help. What do we find when we finally get back here? You''re all dicking around and haven''t even moved one foot to come and help your people¨Cor us when we stuck to the plan and tried to get there to help them."


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    "I¨Cit''s not like that¨Cwe didn''t see the spark! I swear to it. Khalil, tell your friend."


    "I don''t like agreeing with this asshole, but he''s right, we didn''t see anything in the sky."


    "I''m sure it has nothing to do with the partially tranquilized and netted wiretail sitting ten feet from here, huh?"


    Kline tries to shift his weight, incorrectly guessing that Cassandra will let him up and off his back because I''m talking to him. As soon as he starts to move, she uses her hands and slams him back into the packed dirt of the traveler''s path. A low growl escapes her lips, which I haven''t heard before, and sounds full of genuine menace. It reminds me that I still don''t know the first thing about Cassandra and have been pretending otherwise.


    "Okay, okay. Look: it''s possible that while we were trying to wrangle the wiretail that those two lured back, we missed the pixies'' spark hitting the sky. I''m not saying that''s what happened, and I''m not making excuses, but I''m just saying it''s possible that happened. Please, let me up."


    Kline''s voice wavers from his usual pretentious and overconfident manner, and when he asks to be let off the ground, that same voice is small and weak. Cassandra leans forward and snarls openly in Kline''s face, her fangs completely lengthened and almost portentous. I only then notice that her fingers are ragged talons, too. She indeed was¨Cmaybe still is¨Cthinking about killing him and not just scaring him. I don''t speak up, letting Cassandra decide on her own if she''s going to murder him right then and there or if she''s going to give him a pass based on what he just said. Khalil looks between us, taking his cue from me and staying completely quiet.


    After staring directly into Kline''s face for at least a minute, Cassandra shoves his chest once more and gets up to her feet. She turns as soon as she''s up and stalks away towards her wiretail. The two Blackham left from the tracking expedition step aside to give Cassandra plenty of space. The big cat even calms as she draws near, perhaps recognizing a dangerous predator that shouldn''t be bothered more than she already is. Without another word, Cassandra mounts the wiretail, turns it around with her reins, and then takes off on its back.


    I watch the wiretail rapidly disappear behind the next bend of the traveler''s path, ignoring Kline''s muttering as he gets off the ground.


    "Hell. Dude, what¨Cwhat happened?"


    I gaze over at Khalil, stepping back to allow Kline to get up. My fury and leftover adrenaline are finally starting to ebb away, leaving me feeling tired and lethargic.


    "Night terrors took the tracker and his friend out; when we got to the boggy area where the two who''re dead set off their pixies'' spark, we beat the creatures back, but then ran into a pair of basiliscu as we tried to get out of the swamp."


    "Oh man, wow, you saw basiliscu¡­"


    "Yeah. Far too up close and personal. Zero out of ten experience, would not recommend."


    Unsurprisingly, my attempt at humor is lifeless and flat. I leave it at that and move away from Kline and over towards the captured and groggy wiretail. For some reason, when I regard his form once again, it causes me to smile. The black and brown head of the wiretail is massive, and who can deny that these are truly remarkable beasts? They are so perfectly adapted to the Wilds with their natural camouflage and powerful, bull-sized bodies. I crouch down next to the great cat just behind his back in the event he starts to become unsedated so that I''ll have time to move. I touch his coarse, sandy brown fur through one of the holes of the net that is keeping the beast from moving, then gaze at Khalil.


    "What did he tell you?" I murmur now, sedately.


    "Well, first off, he''s drugged up, so he''s kind of difficult to understand, but from what I gathered, they were out here doing something¨Cobviously, the fella here doesn''t know what his rider was actually doing¨Cand the rider left on foot but never returned. When he didn''t return, Mister Cat here decided to do wiretail things. The day that he tracked us for food was about four or five days after his rider went missing, and he''d gotten to the point where hunger overruled his training not to attack us fey."


    "So we missed the event by a pretty slim margin."


    "Yeah, that''s what it sounds like."


    "So is he, like, docile or what?"


    "Don''t know that I''d call him docile, but it''s kinda their show now, you know what I mean?" Khalil nods his head at Kline, who is beside us.


    I turn my head to look at Kline, who is having trouble shaking off the fear he experienced just minutes before from Cassandra. When he doesn''t take my hint, I mutter at him.


    "Well? What''s the plan for this wiretail now?"


    Kline hesitates before responding mutedly, almost as if he''s gunshy. Cassandra did put an actual streak of fear into him.


    "We''re supposed to bring it back to Blackham City."


    "And how do you plan on doing that? You''re down two people, so you already have two extra wiretails to bring with you, and I suspect when this guy gets back up and isn''t tranquilized, or whatever you guys did to him, he''s not going to be real thrilled about the prospect of giving up his freedom in the Wilds a third time."


    "A third time?"


    "Yeah, I assumed you guys caught him once, trained him or whatever you do, and then he accidentally got set free this time."


    "That''s a lot of assumptions for someone who doesn''t know how our tribe works, Orion."


    The pretentious tone seeps back into Kline''s voice, and I don''t care for it. I glare daggers at him. He''s the first to break eye contact, clearing his throat and gazing at the captured wiretail.


    "I suppose you''re right, though. With the current situation, it would be difficult to get it back to the city."


    "What''s that supposed to mean, Kline?" My growing annoyance starts to bubble up in the tone of my words.


    "We''ll just put it down. No need to let it roam and potentially see more of our kind as food to be hunted."


    "What do you mean ''put him down''? Wait, you mean just kill him? What? If you''re going to do something like that, we should just let him out into the Wilds here. They''re from the Wilds, and he''ll be fine."


    "You and Khalil already encountered it hunting you once; what makes you think it won''t continue to see fey as prey?"


    I turn to look at Khalil, who seems highly uncomfortable with the turn the discussion has taken. I know his heart for animals of the Wilds, and he knows mine. He nods at me, and I nod in return, turning my now-hardened gaze back at Kline.


    "Fuck you, man. You won''t kill this wiretail because he''s ''too much of a hassle'' to return to your city. You''ll teach Khalil and me how to control him and the command words he was trained to obey."


    Kline blurts out a laugh, apparently not so cowed any longer.


    "Yeah, no, that is just not going to happen." Kline laughs again and adds with a murmur. "Stupid fucking Wilder."


    I draw my bow out from across my shoulder and nock an arrow in a smooth gesture. With the arrow drawn back and only a few feet of distance between me and Kline, he knows just by the shocked look on his face that if I choose to loose right now, it very much would likely mean the end of his life.

 Chapter 12.2: The Blood Oath

    "Whoa, Orion. What are you doing? You''re not a murderer, my dude. Chill!"


    The action draws the attention of the other two Blackham, and they immediately hop onto the back of their two wiretails. Once they''re on, they start moving toward me, Khalil, Kline, and the captured wiretail. The saddled wiretails are still ornery, so the Blackham are struggling to keep them from lunging this way or that, which slows their progression down on backing up Kline.


    "Listen to your friend, Orion. Don''t do something stupid."


    "Maybe the only stupid thing here is you trying to tell the guy¨Cwho could shoot you in the heart before you could move an inch¨Cto do anything at all. You''re not in fucking control here, Kline. You haven''t done anything this whole time except run your mouth. Jorge was right to dislike your worthless ass at the beginning."


    My hand tenses, drawing the bow back with a creak, and even though I''m angry, I realize that Khalil''s right. I''m not a murderer. And yet still, I hold the arrow pointed at Kline''s heart with no wavering in my aim.


    "Okay, Orion. What do you want us to do specifically?"


    "Teach me how to control the wiretail and then piss off."


    "You mean Khalil?"


    "No, now I mean me. Khalil can talk to wiretails when he wants to, and I can''t, so I need to know how you order yours and keep them from going feral."


    "You want us to give you a crash course on keeping a wiretail? Do you know how long we study and train to handle them? Be realistic, Orion."


    "Shut the fuck up, Kline. This isn''t a discussion anymore. I want you to agree to it right now. I want you to blood oath it, too. No more of your little Blackham games. I''ve had a pretty terrible night, and I''m not in the mood to play anymore¨Cespecially not with you."


    The two Blackham on the back of their wiretails draw closer to me; I can hear their ridden wiretails'' low gurgling and grunting. I pull back the bow and openly threaten Kline with a shot to the heart once again. Kline raises his hands at his two people, and it makes them come to a stop. Khalil carefully walks over and places himself with his back to mine, directly facing the two riders on the wiretails.


    "I got your back forever," Khalil murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear.


    "I know," I murmur in response.


    "Okay, Orion. I''ll teach you how to maintain control with words over a wiretail, but I''m only going to swear a blood oath to it if you also swear that you will never tell anyone how you managed to gain a wiretail mount."


    "No, that''s not the deal, Kline. You''ll swear a blood oath right now, telling me you will teach me how to keep this guy properly. I don''t need to swear to anything at all, and I''m not going to. And tell your people to piss off with the extra two wiretails right now."


    "They have the supplies with them?"


    "We''ll survive," I growl in response.


    Kline hesitates, clearly not wanting to agree to do anything of the sort.


    "Tick, tock, Kline. My arm''s starting to get tired, and it''s been a long night of fighting and running."


    Kline curses under his breath and then looks up at the sky.


    "Alright, fine. I agree, alright? Hell, I agree. Put down your bow."


    "No. Blood oath it, right now."


    I hardly recognize my voice as it icily creeps out from my lips. Kline lowers his head and focuses on me. He noisily exhales air through his nose before carefully reaching down to his side and drawing out his kukri weapon. He moves it slowly so that I see every careful movement he takes.


    He draws the long, machete-like, and bent kukri blade across his left hand and winces. With his blood bubbling up to the surface from the cut, he reaches up to his face and smears the blood from his hand down one side of his face and across his lips.


    "I, Kline of the Blackham tribe, swear on my blood beneath this moon''s ascendance that I will instruct Orion, a Wilder, on how to caretake and control the wiretail we captured tonight. I also agree to grant him official ownership over the wiretail in question, with the promise to update Blackham records officially to reflect that ownership once I return to the city."


    The moment''s magic is subtle, and it''s the first time I''ve seen a blood oath being sworn in person. The vivid red of Kline''s blood immediately shrivels to dry on his face, turning a darker rust shade. The dried blood doesn''t flake away, though. Instead, it seems to seep back into the skin of Kline, and then that is the end of it.


    "There. Happy? Can I wrap my hand now?"


    "Almost. Send them away like you agreed."


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    He looks past Khalil and me at the two mounted Blackham. He exhales and then nods in their direction.


    "Take one of the saddles off the wiretails and leave it for us. Go ahead and go back to the city. I''ll catch up with you in a few days."


    They start to protest, but to his credit, Kline stops them and insists with an order. The pair give Khalil and me dirty looks, but they do as Kline commands them. They get the two extra wiretails, leaving Kline''s mount and the wiretail still groggy and on the ground. As the pair move away, Khalil walks over to pick up the saddle left behind on the ground that used to belong to the now-dead viper-nosed fey. Finally, I relax my arm and lower the arrow from being menacingly aimed at Kline. I pointedly slide the arrow back into my quiver and sling my bow across my torn t-shirt and back again. Once he''s no longer under threat of being used as a pincushion, Kline relaxes a little bit. After relaxing, he takes a few moments to wrap his hand in fabric. Once done with that, he looks at me and offers a sort of olive branch.


    "We have a little food still left by the fire if you''re hungry."


    "Alright."


    I walk over¨Cfeeling a bit like a nearly wholly drained emotional robot¨Cand pick up the cold pan used for cooking what looks like grabbat stew with a few vegetables. I look slowly in the direction that Cassandra angrily rode off down the traveler''s path¨Cnot so secretly wishing to see her riding back to us¨Cbut then lower my eyes to my arms, which still need attention. Setting the pan down, I mutter to Khalil to get the fire going once again. While he does that and Kline sits down to seemingly sulk, I open my larger pack that I''d left behind when we went out to track and remove some of the ointment for wounds. I sit next to Kline and the fire once Khalil gets it going and begin to clean the wounds with a little bit of water and ointment.


    I only need to glance once at Kline, which prompts him to begin giving us the crash course on wiretail management. While he goes over the basic commands and how to maintain body language with the large felines, I carefully wrap each of my more significant wounds, ensuring they''re done right. By the time he gets to instructing me on more advanced commands, the remainder of the stew in the pan on the fire is bubbling. I pour it out onto an already-used bowl and use whoever''s spoon is in it to feed my face while listening to Kline''s dutiful explanations. When he seemingly finishes, I gaze over at him.


    "How good at tracking scents are they?"


    "Good enough that other tribes often hire our trackers."


    "There any specific times of the year that they do something instinctive or experience any changes I should know about?"


    "No, I think they''re neutral. I mean Blackham, in general, think they''re not partial to either sun or moon ascendancy. It''s never been proven or disproven for obvious reasons, but there isn''t anything we''ve seen¨Cor those that came before us have seen¨Cto suggest any changes."


    "I meant things like females going into heat, which makes the males more aggressive, Kline."


    "Oh." There''s a long pause. "Their breeding season is year-round. The female cats can go into heat twice a year, and the scent of one would probably trigger what you''re asking about in a wiretail."


    "So they gotta be close."


    "Right, close enough to smell or hear the unending yowling that the female wiretails can get up to. There''s a reason we keep the breeding female wiretails further away from our residences¨Cfor our damned sanity."


    Normally, I might have laughed at that, but I feel nothing. Khalil does laugh but quickly tapers off when he sees I''m not laughing, too. I force a smile to my face, which seems to keep Khalil from asking any annoying questions, then drop it once the moment''s passed. As I finish the stew in the bowl, I mull over the fact that the ball of anger in my gut seems to have disappeared, but it left an intense feeling of emotional numbness. Is this feeling the medical thing called shock, and is it finally kicking in from the swamp fighting earlier? I don''t know. I feel different than I did only yesterday. Before now, I never understood what the old faeries would mean when they said that when your life is truly endangered the first time, you''re changed forever. But now, I think I understand. How could anyone not be changed?


    I look at my reflection in the silvery-colored metal bottom of the now-empty bowl. My face is filthy from the swamp muck, sweat, and dirt. My pale, moon-colored eyes peer at me through the grime covering my dark eyebrows. I gaze over my face as if seeing it for the first time. This must be what people say when they see themselves in a mirror for the first time and actually see themselves. I look at my strong jawline, which causes some amusement to creep into the back of my mind. It hasn''t been enough days to grow that annoying stubble back. Some of my hair has unsurprisingly fallen out of the long braids my dark hair is pulled back into.


    I realize that the face that stares back at me from the silvery bottom of that soup bowl is not my old wean self. I see my father staring back at me, save for the pale eyes¨Cthose came from my mother. The pale, moon-colored orbs are intelligent but hide a desire for darkness, just like my mother. Just like me, sometimes¨CHannah was right. My thoughts drift momentarily to Aria but more quickly are drawn to the features of Cassandra. Both are creatures of violence and the moon, and both drew something from me that I didn''t know I even had buried in me. A longing, maybe.


    A grumble and rumble shake me out of my bowl-induced self-reflection. I blink away my sea of thoughts and look at the cause of the commotion. The wiretail, still ensnared by the netting, seems to be losing the tranquilized effect it was under. I set the bowl next to the fire and rise to my feet.


    "Okay, Kline, what do we do here?"


    "Oh, I don''t know, Orion; someone sent away our supplies, which included the sleep poisons in them." Kline snarks at me.


    I know I have my blowgun on my belt, with a dart already in it, but I also know it won''t do anything on such a large creature. It''s strong enough for small game, and a wiretail is not that.


    "He got you there, Ori."


    "Thanks, Khalil."


    "No problem, brother."


    The wiretail struggles a little against the netting, which is thankfully keeping it down on the ground. When the captured wiretail starts rustling about, Kline''s saddled one begins to pace with a nervous and aggressive energy. I look between the two problems and huff.


    "Alright, Kline, calm down your cat before it flips out and kills everyone. Khalil, try to talk to this guy. Tell him we don''t want to hurt him; we want to help him get well-fed every night and be safer."


    Khalil looks at me for a long moment while Kline approaches his pacing adult wiretail. I return Khalil''s look so that he knows I''m serious. Something behind Khalil''s eyes changes; it doesn''t harden or soften; it''s almost like he''s acknowledging me as the older brother now. He moves so he''s on the side of the wiretail. That way, Khalil won''t be easy pickings if the cat frees one of his bowling-ball-sized claws. Khalil exhales, inhales, and then exhales once more. He places his hand against the side and back of the wiretail, which causes the cat to rustle about again. Khalil keeps his eyes closed for half a minute before he finally opens his eyes again. When his eyes open, the wiretail slowly comes to a stop in his attempt to resist the netting.


    "Okay. I can talk with him now. I told him what you said."