The rest of the trainees were now joined by instructors who barked orders and returned them to their respective sides for a thorough dressing down of everything they did wrong.

  What Squirt wouldn’t give to be with them now.

  Instead, the older instructor steered her until she was standing directly in front of Lord Everwinter himself. The man was a giant among wolf shifters, somewhere well over six feet tall.

  The lord had the dark skin of a summer fey, dark enough that it shone in the sunlight of the bright spring day. She didn’t bother getting a good look at his face, instead keeping her head down as she studied the man’s perfectly crafted boots. They were polished and even had fanciful engravings in the leather of forests, a testament to the quality of the cordwainer who had made them.

  His deep voice resonated with his obvious power. “What is your name?”

  She took a knee. “Everyone calls me Squirt, my lord.”

  There were telltale rumblings in his voice, a threat of a growl from his wolf as he said, “I did not ask what everyone calls you. I asked for your name.”

  Damnit.

  Reluctantly, she opened her mouth to answer when someone abruptly interrupted. “My lord, you can’t possibly be considering a greenling- of all things.”

  The lord grunted in response. “There is talent in trap making, Sir Hewick.”

  Great. A knight.

  Knights were titled much like the lord was, although their titled powers and strength were vastly outclassed by someone granted the title of a lord. Their titles were meant to serve, after all—loyal vassals for a stronger fey, usually with some sort of magical power granted from the latter. For Lord Everwinter’s vassals, theirs came from his title that connected him to the lands themselves, slightly improving their abilities within his lands, allowing him to have far more vassals than even the average noble fey.

  Squirt stayed absolutely still, hoping to fade from their attentions as the lord and a few other powerful fey had a hushed conversation. An agreement was reached and the lord’s voice spoke again.

  “I have a task for you now while the others continue their work here.”

  Annoyance flashed through her, though her voice remained even and level. “I am at your command, my lord.” Fuck him and fuck his games.

  Damnit, she never should have gotten so carried away. The last twenty years had made it too difficult to reign in her temper. The villagers had always treated her with more friendliness and respect than any one of these fey so far. They would greet her in the street with smiles and ask politely after her traps—even if their eyes would quickly glaze over if her response went on too long. Still, they never mocked her. Most even respected her, at least as a hunter. They traded with her without giving her shit and considered her a part of the community.

  An odd part, but a part all the same.

  Going from that to incessant mockery and constantly sidestepping to let idiots like them lead the way?

  Her fingers flexed as she struggled not to ball them into fists, not to show him anything but perfect subservience. She was angry and frustrated that she had caught the eye of a powerful fey in her revenge, satisfying though it may have been.

  “Go hunting in the forests around here for feybeasts. Guard Tobias will go with you. When the sun starts to set, return to the castle—he knows how to get in after dark. In the morning, I want you to present the feystones you collect to me in my office.”

  Sure, why not, just single her out more. “As you wish, my lord.” She hesitated. Maybe he was in a good mood.

  It was the older instructor standing behind her that chuckled and spoke next. “Do you have any requests, lass?”

  She almost said no. Instead, she weighed her odds. She’d already been singled out. Likely, they would be offering her a job in the castle. If that happened, she needed this lord guy on her side as much as possible. If she was lucky, they’d task her with hunting daily, and she could keep to the forests and out of the hair of the more powerful fey, especially with the sneering knights that were absolutely flabbergasted by their lord’s decision to single her out to begin with.

  She couldn’t realistically hope that they’d let her go. Powerful fey like them didn’t let go of things that had caught their eye.

  Finally, she kept her tone measured as she said, “If I might be so bold as to ask, my lord, may I be permitted to remain overnight in the forests?” It would give her the chance to set up some traps and check them in the morning, as most feybeasts were more active at night, anyway.

  He did not speak for a solid minute, and she began to sweat. Finally, his voice gruff with hints of his wolf peeking through, he said, “The forest is dangerous at night, little one.”

  Clearly, the man was refusing to call her Squirt.

  Asshole. It wasn’t like ‘little one’ was any better. They were both demeaning in their own way.

  Biting down on her resentment for the man, she answered calmly, “I am aware of this, my lord.”

  Another full minute before he said, “Permission granted. Do not make me regret it.”

  She dropped a little lower in her bow and backed away as quickly and politely could. Once she was sure she had gotten far enough that she’d be safe, she turned on her heel and trotted towards the forest, not sparing the lord a glance as she did.

  Squirt stopped not far into the forest, eyeing the smiling Tobias warily. Just as during their ride to the location, he had an undercurrent of genuine curiosity in his gaze along with palpable amusement.

  He crouched to be at her level. “So. Where to, little bird?”

  Her wariness remained.

  Rather than answering immediately, she tested him. Pushing the boundaries of propriety just a touch by instead turning and scanning the forest. Reaching into her sack, she pulled out a compass, judging distance. It took over an hour on horseback to reach the ruins they were stationed at, and it was now a little past the midday meal. It would probably take them several hours to be within spitting distance of Everwinter castle on foot. Setting up traps too far out would be a waste of resources, but too close would be difficult to spot any game, particularly after the trainees had scared off most of the forest creatures by stomping through the woods all week.

  Turning her attention back to him, he remained as easygoing as before, his eyes alight with curiosity, not cruelty.

  Having pushed the boundary enough to determine his adherence to the ancient laws, she bowed over her compass and intoned, “We will be heading back towards the castle before camping.”

  “Ah.”

  At his acknowledgement, she abruptly closed the compass, pulling out her bow and stringing it. She didn’t have very many arrows with her, having not expected this outcome, but she would make do.

  Tobias spoke again. “Need more arrows? I can run and go get you some.”

  She gave him an odd look, caught between wariness and surprise. Run and go get some? Run and go get some? Why was a powerful wolf offering to run errands? That was beyond just lax adherence to the ancient laws. It was completely counter to them.

  Not to mention a useless waste of time. Her arrows were custom, just like her bow.

  Gods damned it all, she hated being reminded of how small she was.

  Tamping down on the snark that threatened to spill out, she answered, “If there are arrows of the appropriate size, my lord—”

  “Just Tobias. I’m not titled.”

  She hesitated, continuing carefully, “If there are arrows of the appropriate size, Guard Tobias—” she was pretty sure the man pouted at her at the formal address, “—I will retrieve them.” Either he cared nothing for the ancient ways or he was trying to entrap her.

  He frowned a little, studying the arrows. Then he ran his fingers through his hair. “Ah. Right. The arrows the guards brought are all probably the wrong size for this. I can run back to the castle—won’t take more than an hour. Does that work?”

  Like hell was she indebting herself to him. She gave him a curt bow and said, “No need, Guard Tobias. I will make do.”

  Without giving him a chance to respond and ask another gods damned question, she trotted off into the woods. She only had five arrows in her quiver, and she would have to make them count. He was there as an instructor to silently observe her, and much to her relief, he melted into the trees behind her. Always keeping pace, often out of sight, and knowledgeable enough to disappear without alerting every damn feybeast in a fifty-mile radius of their presence. She was able to melt into the greenery, keeping an eye out for tracks and occasionally pulling her compass out to reorient herself.

  About a mile in, she found the tracks of a sarfac—a small, catlike creature, one of the more powerful feybeasts this time of year. It didn’t have useful components like a flame sac or stingers until it evolved into a chameleon cat. Once it did, the hide would camouflage, the dappled patterns of its coat disappearing as it matched the surroundings, making it a dangerous adversary to any unsuspecting fey travelers.

  She studied the tracks. They were relatively fresh, meaning the beast was probably somewhere close by.

  Following them a little farther, she came upon a small break in the canopy, a little sunny grassy spot over the remains of a stump.

  Perfect.

  She reached into her pouch, pulling out a small packet that she sprinkled over the stump in a closed circle. That finished, she cast her eyes around the space, landing on a nearby bush growing at the base of a tree. She trotted over, looking it over carefully before she was satisfied. Returning to the stump, she reached into her pouch and pulled out a small feystone, a mallet, and a chisel. She placed the stone on top of the stump, held the chisel to it, and smacked the mallet. A small burst of mana passed over her, and she dove for the bush as the powder she’d set earlier trapped the majority of the mana from the stone in place, making it hover like a little beacon.

  She held her bow poised, waiting, barely breathing as she hid in the bush. The minutes ticked by. The spring chill seeped into her bones before she saw it.

  The barest glimmer of patterns entered the tiny clearing, and mentally, Squirt cursed. The beast had already evolved. Biting her lip, she carefully put the bow back.

  The creature’s coat would be worth a small fortune. They were incredibly difficult to collect since the creature had to be skinned alive in order to get it.

  Deciding that worrying about whether she should save her materials wasn’t worth the trouble, she carefully pulled out her slingshot and the powder bomb she’d made from the riisets, holding her breath to keep from inhaling the stuff. It was a powerful paralytic.

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  The creature chowed down on the free meal she’d left it, and she fired. It snarled, becoming visible as the camouflage faded to the actual dappled pelt, turning towards her before falling to the ground.

  She had to hurry.

  Tying the handkerchief around her face and putting a pair of goggles over her eyes, she darted forward, reaching into the sack at her hip for her tools. After the briefest hesitation, she grabbed a mushroom shot, dabbing the little cloth bulb over the creature’s nostrils.

  Better to let it die in sweet dreams than screaming agony. It was a small mercy she could, for once, grant.

  Pulling out the sharpest, thinnest knife, she made quick incisions in the difficult spots first—around the limbs, up by the neck. The creature was almost as large as she was, meaning she had to clamber over its body as she worked.

  She’d only have one shot at this.

  Grabbing the fur with one hand at the base of the neck, she quickly sliced through the skin to connect the incisions she’d started with, and yanked with all the strength she could muster, cutting the skin from the flesh as she went. It was brutal, bloody work, the creature whining in its sleep as she went before, finally, she sliced off the end of it. Not a moment too soon, either, as the creature then let out a keening cry before it disappeared in a puff of red smoke and reformed as a fist sized red feystone.

  Panting from the exertion, she mentally tallied the resources she had left.

  Not much.

  She broke the circle of dust she’d laid out earlier, releasing the magic bait she’d used. The pelt she carefully folded in half, keeping the innards on innards and fur on fur before rolling it up. She could clean it tonight when she made camp.

  By the time she’d finished, the last of the powder had dissipated into the ether. She pulled off the goggles and pulled down the handkerchief, glad for the fresh, clean air. The handkerchief may have been a lifeline for her work, but the thing smelled like musk and mildew after years of service, no matter how many times she washed the damn thing.

  She was just finishing the last touches of cleaning up the space and tying up the rolled-up pelt when a voice jolted her so quickly, she nearly screamed.

  “Fancy—that’d make a good cloak for someone as small as you.”

  Tobias was crouched down next to her, the wolf moving silently enough that she hadn’t even sensed him, scaring her half to death.

  He continued as if he didn’t notice the death glare she was giving him. “The bait was a neat trick. You’d probably catch all kinds of beasties if you just left it like that, so why put it all away?”

  Unable to prevent her scowl at him, she hoisted the leather ties for the skin around her small frame as she stood to continue along. “We’re too far out.” Plus, it would be a bad strategy when she was down to one last mushroom blast, one more paralyzing shot, only one poison shot as the second riiset she’d bagged at home she’d failed to be quick enough to get the fangs, and five damn arrows. A strategy like this only worked because of a combination of luck and the fact that the creature was on its own—if she accidentally had baited a pack of feybeasts, she’d have been fucked.

  “Hm, I see, I see. So why stop here, then? Why not just continue on until we were close enough?”

  Damn nosy wolf. More certain that he was the rare kind of fey that cared little for the ancient ways, but not certain enough to risk not answering, she kept her answers short, her tone clipped, his earnest curiosity not outweighing her annoyance at having to respond. “Chameleon cats—” the evolved form of the sarfac, “—are more dangerous to the average fey.”

  “You weren’t just hoping to score the pelt?”

  Tightly, she answered, “I was hoping that the creature hadn’t evolved yet, but I’m not one to waste a good opportunity, Guard Tobias.”

  He laughed. “Fair, fair.”

  Not wanting to encourage more conversation, she started trotting away from the annoyingly friendly wolf.

  Blissfully, another hour passed in silence as they made their way through the forest. She managed to bag another ground dwelling feybeast that tended to wreak havoc on fields, though didn’t have much use to her, otherwise. Based on her estimates, they weren’t far from the earth tree now. She kept her eyes focused, scanning occasionally for the telltale signs of the earth tree roots, noting a set of ruins they passed before finally seeing them. The little wispy things in the dirt proceeding a particularly thick part of the forest.

  Slowing to a stop, she glanced up at the sky. She’d seen the roots in the first quarter of their ride out, meaning they were likely another hour or so on foot away from the Keep.

  Perfect.

  She surprised Tobias when she turned around, retracing their steps back to the ruins that she had already spotted. There were a couple of hours of daylight left, so now would be the best time to set up her traps.

  Tobias followed her as she went, his eyes always curious and attentive, but thankfully not asking her anything anymore. Him asking would require her responding, and that was both tedious and disruptive.

  Slowly, taking her time, they circled the edges of the earth tree’s roots, leaving out more traps as they went. The area was teeming with feybeasts, and she scowled in annoyance. If they didn’t curb the population soon, winter was going to be a tough season for those in the castle. Were they doing any regular hunting?

  Eventually, she did remember that the new lord was, well, new. It didn’t really help to ease her temper on the subject, naturally, since it was never really the ennobled that suffered with an overbloom of feybeasts.

  It didn’t take long for her to run out of supplies entirely, even reusing the arrows she had.

  The sun started to sink over the horizon when she finally ran out of traps, muttering to herself about sending the lord a bill for the supplies she was spending on his ass, conveniently forgetting that she was not, in fact, alone.

  “So are we going to—”

  She jumped into fighting stance, heart pounding and eyes wide with fear as she held her daggers defensively before her.

  He chuckled. “Jumpy little thing, aren’t you?”

  She glared, annoyed that her cheeks were flushing with embarrassment. It was bad enough that she had the delicate pixie features making it almost impossible to look intimidating without blushing easily on top of it. Keeping her blades up for a few moments longer just in case he reacted to her hostility, she slowly lowered them, keeping her eyes fixed on the wolf.

  He really just wasn’t fazed by anything she did, was he?

  Tobias’s eyes only danced in response. “So are we going to set up a camp, or—”

  She turned and continued heading in through the undergrowth. “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s rained freshly but I’m sure we could find some firewood—”

  “No firewood, sir,” she said as cordially as she could manage.

  He fell silent as he followed her through the forest, struggling to squeeze his way through the bushes until she came to such a sudden stop, he almost tripped over her.

  “Oh, uh. Sorry.”

  She eyed him, reaching into her pouch carefully, wondering exactly how far she could push him. If he really was as harmless as he was pretending to be. “… you are here to evaluate me, yes?”

  He shrugged noncommittally but did not deny it.

  She waited a moment longer for his behavior or attitude to change, but it remained the blessedly simple, happy, friendly, curious face he’d had since he’d been assigned this task. She teetered a moment longer, debating her chances before asking, “Will you trust me and give me your hand?”

  He didn’t even hesitate as he held out his hand. She frowned at the gloves he wore, shifting slightly to the side and turning his forearm up. Pulling out a tiny, thin blade, she eyed him, holding it up, waiting for his reaction.

  If anything, his eyes seemed to light up, burning with curiosity.

  A good one, then. A touch annoying, perhaps, but willing to listen to her.

  She took her chance, quickly slicing the blade down through the air and giving his skin a small cut just at the base of his forearm, before his wrist. Wiping the blade, she reached back into her pouch and grabbed out a tiny feystone, pressing it onto the bead of blood on his skin. Then she repeated the actions on herself, cutting herself in a similar place and pressing another tiny feystone against the wound. Taking a step back, she studied him again before carefully saying, “Stay here. No sudden moves.”

  He frowned but nodded.

  She hesitated for a moment longer before turning and wiggling her way through the last bush into the clearing where the earth tree lay. She slowed as she reached the center, facing an enormous tree, the thick trunk of it wide and curved, yet the base of it was hollowed. The leaves were stunning shades of green, trimmed with glittering gold. Kneeling, she pulled out a handkerchief, reaching into her pouch and pulling out a small, assorted handful of tiny feystones, laying them out on the cloth along with the two that had samples of their blood, and waited.

  Minutes passed. Then a long legged, elegant crane with glittering feathers of white, red, and gold decorating its plumage appeared. A feybeast.

  She bowed her head low to it as it considered her, cocking its head this way and that, before it bent down, inspecting the gift. One by one, it swallowed the tiny feystones down whole before squawking loudly, beating its wings in challenge.

  When she didn’t rise to it, the creature relaxed, reaching with its beak to start preening through her hair. It finished and she straightened, carefully turning to the wolf shifter. She motioned him in, silently pointing down, relieved the man didn’t hesitate as he pushed himself through into the clearing and knelt just behind her, confirming her earlier assertions about his temperament. She mimed lowering her head, and he obeyed.

  The feybeast stepped over, observing him carefully before preening through his fluffy, light brown locks. He giggled, vibrating a little in ticklish glee.

  She made sure to wipe the small smile off her face before he could look up. Good he might be, she didn’t want to encourage any illusions of friendship.

  Even good fey could turn.

  The feybeast moved on from him, having accepted him into its flock, and started patrolling the perimeter. Squirt studied the still bent shifter, tempted to just leave him there and see how long he remained bent over for her, before her self-preservation won out against malicious curiosity. “You can lift your head. You’re safe now. No burning any branches, and whatever you do, don’t hurt any of the trees.”

  He lifted his head, his eyes awed as she set the fur pelt down and started to set up a camp.

  Settling in front of a bald patch in the soil, she pulled out a little metal box with a series of runes and engravings on the top, setting it down. Reaching back into her pouch, she pulled out a small red feystone, using it to engage the enchantment and turn her stove on. Next, she pulled out a waterskin and a dried chunk for soup, along with some rice that Lala, one of the older residents of their quaint village, had traded her for, adding it to the pot along with the water to set it to boil. Finished, she unrolled the skin—grimacing as it had already begun to stink—and pulled out her tanning supplies. She started with the smooth blade to cut off the remaining chunks of flesh from the skin.

  The wolf glanced around, still on his knees with a small frown on his face, rubbing his hands on his pants. Eventually, he said, “I’ll take first watch if you’d like to get some rest.”

  Her eyes flickered to him before returning to her work. “No need, Guard Tobias.”

  His eyes whipped over to her. “What?”

  She sighed. Then nodded to the patrolling feybeast. “It’s a jewelbird.”

  He twisted to look at it, then slowly twisted back, his brows still furrowed. “… yeah?”

  She went back to cleaning the skin. “Jewelbirds are the defenders of earth trees. They’re powerful, but so long as no one harms their tree, they aren’t aggressive. I fed it feystones with our blood, so for the next day or so, it will treat us as part of what it is defending. This time of year, there’s nothing more powerful than a jewelbird in these woods, and even if fey come after us it will put up a fight.”

  His jaw dropped. “Truly?”

  Her lips twitched against her will at the look on his face. “Truly.”

  For a brief moment, she thought it might fall back into blissful silence.

  “So, what’s special about an earth tree?”

  Gauging his temperament, she considered his earnest expression before responding. “… first time to the Outskirts?”

  He grinned and shrugged. “City pup, born and raised.”

  Earth trees weren’t a foreign concept in cities—they were often depicted in art and used in poetry—but only in certain circles. She wasn’t surprised he’d never heard of them. Returning her focus to her task, she continued, “You’ve got magic, right?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Use magic sense on the tree.”

  “… it uh… won’t make the jewelbird unhappy, will it?”

  She gave him a dry look.

  Sheepish, he rubbed the back of his head before obeying, then frowned. “It’s… a feybeast?”

  “No.” She fell quiet for a bit as she worked. Perhaps she had been in her village too long, or perhaps it was some unknown quality he had, but...

  Her movements paused, her eyes drawn up to the leaves that framed the sky as the sun began to set, finding herself relaxing a little more before she returned her attention to the skin in front of her.

  Mechanically continuing her task, she began again, her voice a little more thoughtful with a dash less cutting edge to it, and Tobias ended up unintentionally leaning in as he listened. “… most plants rely on sunlight to create the energy they need to grow, storing it in their roots to be used as needed. Earth trees rely on magic, not sunlight. Their leaves collect ambient magic from the air, but rather than storing it in their roots, it is released in the surrounding area via the roots and helps the entire forest grow. Jewelbirds eat the leaves for their nutrition in exchange for protecting the tree from all other beasts. It will die in the winter, and its feystone will be absorbed by the tree. In the spring, a new one will be born.”

  Selecting a small silver block from her pouch no bigger than her palm and covered in more runes, she washed the skin using a small, steady stream of water and a blue feystone.

  “Hm. I never would have thought that there were positives to the beasts. Or at least, not like… wait… is that… how are you boiling the water, and… fuck, why’s it smell so good?”

  Her eyebrow twitched. Did this man expect to live entirely on field rations or something? “Fires can bring beasts directly to you.” She tapped the box. “This is a small stove. It requires a feystone to activate, but not a very powerful one.” One worth less than an earth piece, really. Washing her hands of the gross funk, she pulled out a spoon and handed it to him. “Here. Stir. It’ll be ready in five minutes.”

  He frowned down at the little pot. “Doesn’t seem like enough to share…”

  Flatly, she responded, “I know my place, Guard Tobias. There are more portions if this is not enough to satisfy.” Then went back to the messy business of her skinning, hoping the man didn’t require too many portions. It was hard to know with shifters—either they ate everything in front of them with a voracious appetite or they ate no more than the average fey.

  He sat back on his haunches. “No.”

  She froze, gripping the knife in hand tightly. Shit. Had she read him wrong?

  He burst out, “I can’t just eat your food before you do! Look, why don’t you eat first, and just if you have any leftovers, share them with me.”

  For a solid minute, she did nothing but stare at him, the knife tightly gripped in her hand, looking halfway between bolting and stabbing someone. She waited, barely breathing, her eyes searching for any hidden hostility. Finally, she eased the tension on her blade. A small, tentative smile quirked up her lips and she said, “Eat. I won’t be ready until I’m done, anyway.”

  The stubborn glint in his eyes wavered, his resolve crumbling, and she was pretty sure she could see the drool sliding down the corner of his lips. “You… you sure?”

  “Hm. Two minutes left, then it’ll be ready.”

  The man practically sprang up to grab his pack, sifting through for a bowl and spoon, before he returned to eye the soup with an intense, eager gleam to his hazel eyes.

  Shaking her head, she returned to her work, enjoying the peace that fell between them.

  Finally. Blissful silence.