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The trees opened just enough to reveal the camp through the dead of night. It looked mostly the same as I remembered, fruit trees bent in familiar arches, hammocks still swinging in the breeze, but something felt… vacant. Like Dent stopped dusting it off some time ago.
I handed Val the trail markers we’d been using to outline the path. “Mind setting a perimeter wide enough for everyone?”
“Sure thing, princess.” He jetted off before I could roll my eyes at him.
I turned to Eshlyn. “Can you make some rounds, get the message out? I’d like to see the merchants and logistics settle into the center, soldiers on the outskirts. I don’t care about their schedule, just make sure they have one.”
“Of course, darling.” Her tone said she was joining Val and Dent in the silent grin contest.
Lanterns bobbed like low stars through the mist, casting long shadows that bent in abstract patterns across the various trunks. The many lights grew sparse as the camp began to settle into a rhythm. A crushing crescendo of a hundred quiet murmurs and the soft hush of tent canvas brushing against one another. It all felt too quiet for how many people were moving.
I set up on a low rise above the main clearing, watching as two hundred and forty people moved through the dark like a well-practiced ghost.
Down below, Dent said little as he helped Eshlyn pitch their tent. Val moved among the soldiers like he’d always belonged there, directing quietly. Across the way, Kael stood stiff-backed near the treeline. Bran beside him, arms folded, speaking low and slow with the kind of quiet that was more dangerous than shouting. They both looked my way, and I stared back. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I refused to look away first.
No one approached or asked for orders. They just moved. Tents went up. Watches rotated. Water fetched. A camp born in silence, out of mist and fatigue. I was grateful for it. Tonight, I just wanted to relax.
It wasn’t long before Eshlyn quietly tore off from Dent, settling beside me like she’d always planned to. Passing me a tin mug, half-full of steaming brown liquid. “Care for some tea?”
“Uhhh. Sure.” I took a sip and nearly choked. “Gods. That’s foul.”
She giggled in that old, aristocratic way I hadn’t heard in a while, then leaned against my shoulder. “It grows on you.”
“Of course it does.” I leaned into her, the same way.
We sat for a while, just peering out over the makeshift city we’d dragged into the woods.
“Esh,” I said, breaking the silence, but not the contact. “I gotta ask.”
“Anything,” she replied, meeting my gaze.
“Why didn’t you take the podium? When Kael got all… whatever that was.”
“I know that was probably the expectation.” A small smile creased her lips as she took a slow sip of her tea, the steam curling around her face like mist. “But when I looked at the crowd, I felt like... well, like they were already listening to you.”
It was a nice sentiment, but something deep told me she was covering the truth with a silk sheet that I was supposed to admire, instead of question. “No. I’ve never seen you so pale, and I’ve certainly never bossed you around, not like today. So what gives?”
“Excuse me. You have not been bossing me around.” She went rigid, brow furrowing, “And what do you mean, what gives?”
“Gods, Eshlyn.” I gave her a look. “I’m not mad, just tell me the truth.”
Her voice rose. “That is the truth.”
“All of it?” I snapped back.
That's when she paused. Emerald eyes bleeding into me. Then, finally, exhaled, “Fine.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’ve done it before… and I hate it.”
I scoffed, surprised. “You hate what? Being in charge?”
“Yes!” She set her mug down with more force than necessary. “The politics, the posture, the pretentious performance. All of it.”
Some part of me knew exactly what she meant. All day, people have been presuming I have some sort of title. Perhaps if I did, it wouldn’t be so easy to pretend it didn’t matter. “But Esh… I hate it too.”
“That’s not the same,” Her voice had gone quiet.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not pretending.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Everyone else,” she said, voice rising again, “Everyone knows the rules. Name, rank, etiquette, bloodline. It’s all theater, but it's necessary… And you’re the only person I’ve ever met who walks right through like it doesn’t apply to you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said gently. “I’m not sure I understand.”
She laughed under her breath, bitter and amazed. “Of course you don’t. That’s the maddening part. You don’t have to try. No title, no strategy, no manipulation. You’ll curse out a queen and a noble in the same breath, and somehow people follow you anyway.”
“You can’t possibly think that’s a good thing.” I scoffed.
She shook her head, almost smiling. “It’s reckless. It’s foolish, undignified even. And it shouldn’t work. But it does. And that’s what makes it… admirable.”
I looked away. “Guess I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“Maybe not, but it’s why I follow you. And how I know the others will too.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I just leaned back into her and let the silence settle.
...
Birdsong cut through the hush of dawn. Not sweet, but there.
I sat near the water, cradling a tin cup of something bitter Eshlyn insisted was tea. I winced with every sip, but drank it anyway, an acquired discomfort I was starting to delight in. Around me, the camp stirred in slow waves, first the cooks, then the sentries, then the grumblers and groaners with stiff spines and tangled hair.
The grove looked strange in the new light. I thought maybe it was the sharper colors and raw perception gifted by the silent thread, or maybe just the small army occupying it, but it didn’t matter. The cool morning air was refreshing, and I’d already had time to bathe, thanks to the extended hours humans required to sleep. Another perk of being the only one up before the sun, it was quiet.
Until Dagenbord found me.
His structure was snake-like, gliding out from the treeline like a well-oiled blade. Hands clasped low in front of him. Robes still pristine, like he hadn’t lifted a finger since the courtyard. And despite his expressionless face, his voice came with a shimmer of silk and thorns. “Is it true you told the Queen her wine was, and I quote, bullshit?”
I could swear there was an upward tilt to his lips, like a smirk waiting to reveal itself. “You come well-informed.”
“Not like it’s a secret.” He quipped. “Not when witnessed by a room of officials.”
“Then why ask?” I muttered. “If you already know.”
“I find it entertaining.” He said plainly.
Something had me wondering why he was still talking to me, but I played along anyway. “Me or the bullshit wine?”
“Only the one requiring an escort, of course.” He checked his nails, as if the polish might have rubbed off.
Damn. He’s not following Dent around. He’s here for me.
I stared him down. “So you admit it. You're the queen’s favorite lapdog, come to bark and sniff. And here I am, fresh out of dung.”
He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t laugh either. That was the part that got me. Not the reckless bite of my own tongue, but the way he studied me now. Like I’d stopped being amusing and started being real. “Oh, come now.” His jaw tensed, but he quickly reeled it in. “Let’s not pretend we’re not both doing the same thing, watching, weighing, wondering what the other is hiding.”
The queen knows. Doesn’t she?
“Very well. Tell me what you’re hiding and I’ll stop wondering.”
He gave me a slow once-over, all show. “Spill your secrets and I’ll spill mine.”
I knew better. “Everyone already knows my secrets. Besides, I have little interest in anything you have to say.” I lied.
“Refreshingly honest. But a dangerous attitude for someone in your position.”
“And what position is that?” I prodded.
“One of nothing.” His voice turned to gravel. “A worm groveling in the dirt. That is your position, and you’d do well to remember it.”
Finally, the real him.
“You must be exhausted.” I leaned my head, taking a step closer. “To forget yourself in all the pretending.”
He looked genuinely shocked. “You really are… something else.”
“I’m getting tired of hearing that.”
“It’s a marvel you’ve managed to keep your tongue all these years.”
I knew I shouldn’t be poking the hornet’s nest. My luck was well past stretched, if not snapped completely, but what was I going to do, curtsy and hope he forgot I existed? Fugitive or not, this wasn’t going away, and if I was going down, it wouldn’t be quiet.
“Maybe the problem isn’t my tongue. It’s that no one’s been fast enough to do something about it.”
“You're bold,” he said, stepping in. ”A silly trait… It won’t protect you for long.”
Before I could fire back, a soft shuffle of boots drew both our attention. Eshlyn stepped into view, staff in hand, looking like she’d been there long enough to catch something. If she did, she was hiding it well.
“Oh, hello.” She said lightly, eyes falling to him, and then me. “Am I interrupting?”
His face didn’t shift much, but I could see the mask tightening with the creases at the edge of his mouth. “Not at all,” Dagenbord said smoothly, before dipping his head into a subtle bow. “Just enjoying the rising sun with your… companion.”
“I see.” She ventured toward me. “It is a lovely sunrise.” She stared off, and just like that, the conversation dried up.
“If you will excuse me.” He turned, robes catching the breeze.
I did the same, sipping my tea and staring out into the glistening river ahead. “I enjoyed our chat. Dagenbord.”
I am so fucked.
He called over his shoulder. “As did I, Remy.”
A moment passed Eshlyn spoke next. “What was that all about?”
I only sighed. “Nothing important.”
...
The scent of charred oats and roasted root vegetables mingled with smoke as I wandered through the encampment. Fires popped in uneven rhythm, pots hung from blackened hooks, steam curling like idle thoughts in the crisp morning air.
The open grove was littered with movement, cooks, merchants, and soldiers threading through their morning routines. Most kept their heads down, shoveling breakfast with that practiced disinterest of people too tired to be impressed by much.
Some glanced my way, quick and cautious, as I strolled through the organized chaos with my own breakfast in hand. The thought crossed my mind to go sit with Val and Dent; it would’ve been easier. Familiar. Safe. But I pushed the feeling aside because there was someone I wanted to check in on.
I spotted Gregory near the center, his leg stretched out stiffly, like it was daring the pain to make a scene. His tin bowl rested in his lap, one hand cradling it, the other gesturing mid-story. The men around him, six or seven, mostly grizzled and quiet, were listening.
I walked over without announcement, just eased onto an overturned crate at the edge of their circle. Someone stopped chewing. Another blinked like I’d pulled a sword instead of a seat, so I apologized, “Is this reserved for someone?”
Gregory was the one to break the silence. “All yours, My Lady,” he said, tilting his head slightly.
“I’d prefer you drop the formalities.” I waved a hand. “Seriously. I hate it.”
He shared a look with the others, a flicker of amusement behind it, before returning to his bowl. “Of course, My Lady.”
I nudged the edge of his crate with my boot. “C’mon, Gregory. I’m not here to ruin your breakfast.”
One of the others cleared his throat. “If I may, why are you here?... My Lady.”
“Just wanted to talk,” I said honestly, settling in. “And check on your leg.”
Gregory blinked, surprised, then smiled like I’d caught him off guard. “You’re too kind… It’s still tender,” he motioned, flexing it slightly, “but whole. Thanks to you.”
“Thanks to Lyssa,” I corrected. “I just played tug-of-war with your ankle.”
That earned a low chuckle from the group.
“Either way,” he said, “I owe you both a drink.”
I raised my mug, sweetleaf this time. “Looking forward to it.”
Gregory clinked his cup to mine, and the others followed in a soft chorus of tin and nods. Some of the tension bled off after that.
I sipped, then looked back at him. “You up for another day’s hike? I promise to stop at sundown this time.”
He grinned. “Not to worry. We’ve been through worse.” He glanced around the circle. “Right, lads?”
A few muttered “aye”s and rolled eyes at him. Weariness, yes, but the kind that came with familiarity. And trust.
I stayed a little longer, listening to them talk about nothing important, weather, old jobs, easy nights in the city. The fire popped. Someone scraped their spoon. I was mostly quiet. But after a while, I spoke.
“So listen. The next two nights are going to be harder than the last. I know you stowed your armor yesterday, but you should keep the lighter pieces on for this next stretch.”
“Are those your orders, My Lady?”
I fought the urge to cringe. “Call it a suggestion,” I said. “I just want you to be ready.” Then added. “Any of you been through the Dead Forest before?”
They exchanged looks, then shook their heads.
“Right then. You’ve heard the stories, spirits, the odd undead, things that don’t behave the way they should. Most of it’s scarier in stories than it is in truth. I’m trusting you’ll use your judgment. Some things aren’t hostile, even if they look it.”
“We appreciate your trust, My Lady,” one said. “Very much so,” another added.
“I’m not giving a speech,” I said, though I probably was. “Just reminding you what you already know. You’re in charge of guarding the convoy, and you have my full support in doing what’s needed to keep them moving and safe.” I looked each of them in the eye. “Can I count on you?”
“Aye!” Gregory said, and the others echoed it.
The quiet firelight, the weight of their voices, the way they didn’t hesitate, it lit something in me. A slow-burning warmth I didn’t expect. “Then finish eating. And if you haven’t bathed, now’s your chance. We won’t see the river again until this is done.”
Gregory gave me a nod when I stood to leave. This time, I didn’t wave it off.
...
The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, but the world was no longer night. A pale blue-gray soaked the horizon, soft and heavy, like the pause before breath. Lanterns were being snuffed one by one. Packs tightened. Sentries rotated out. Everyone was moving, but no one said much.
I stepped up onto a low rise near the edge of camp, just enough elevation to be seen, not enough to feel like a stage. Val, Dent, Eshlyn, and Selene all conjoined below. It was enough to break some people's attention, but not everyone's.
“Hey!” Val’s voice sharply rose above the rest, “Eyes up!”
Voices dimmed as eyes turned my way. Not all, but enough to make a difference. I’d have let it go, but this was one of the important things I wanted everyone to hear. So I took a deep breath, focusing my intent to project my voice out like a wave. “Gather around!”
That did it. Slowly but surely, the stillness grew until a crowd of over two hundred lined up at the base. All eyes on me. My stomach twisted, but I kept the spell and spoke plainly.
“I know you are all committed. You wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise.” I let the pause hang long enough to settle.
“But this is the last sanctuary, and the easiest part for the rest of our journey.” I pointed towards the thick foliage of the dead forest that lay beyond. “From here on out, it's all roots, rocks, and forestry. The trail will be jagged and ruthless.”
The silence settled again. “If you move on from here, there is no turning back. If you stay, it’s because you choose to. Not because someone outranks you. Not because you’ve been ordered to. No other reason than your choice, and this is your last chance to make it.”
I scanned the group. Soldiers. Merchants. A pair of scholars eying me as they tucked scrolls into waterproof cases. Kael, stone-backed in the rear. Val, arms folded but watching.
“If you decide to turn back, there is no shame. No record. No names… But I say again. This is your last chance.”
I looked toward the path that broke off east, toward safety, routine, the cities. Then back at the clearing. No one moved. Not yet.
“You have one hour to decide. Then we leave. With or without you.”
And that was it. No flourish. No pleasantries. Just a stone of truth, I wanted them to know. I thought, hoped, maybe a fourth would drop. That’d leave us with a smaller convoy made up of only the willing, but I stepped down, walking away before I could see anyone's reaction.
...
Selene gave me the news after we set out: one merchant family turned back. Unloaded what they could and made for the river. That was it. For better or worse, that left two hundred and thirty-six souls, still marching, like an echo that wouldn’t fade.
There was no trail to track this time, but I didn’t need it. Not when each gnarled tree felt like an old enemy I’d already stared down once before. Today, there was no checkpoint to reach, no destination waiting. We’d settle when the sun gave out, wherever that happened to be.
Sometimes a joke or two would pass my way. I’d catch it, toss it back, pretend there wasn’t a weight on my shoulders. For those not hauling goats or pushing wheels over uneven stone, it was just another boring hike.
It wasn’t until after lunch that the silence shifted. A low ripple through the underbrush. A predatory twitch-like-flicker in the treeline, too clean, too deliberate. Easy to ignore the first time, but not the third. Something was circling us.
I slowed, eyes sweeping the mist-cloaked roots and skeletal branches above. There was no birdsong. No movement. Just us… and something else.
“Hey, Dent,” I murmured, low. “You feeling useful?”
Dent sidled closer with a grin already tugging at his mouth. “Finally offering me a job, princess?”
“Ugh, please don’t start with that.” My eyes rolled in their usual fashion. “But yes.” I pointed with a tilt of my chin. “See the treeline, just left of that bent cedar? Something’s trailing us. Pretty sure it’s a cat of some sort, keeps circling back.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Ehh. I’m not seeing anything.”
“Well, clearly, your predator senses are getting rusty,” I smirked. “Believe me. It’s there.”
“Shall I go, rough it up for you?” He bounced on his heels like a prized fighter. “Bit of cardio before dinner?”
“No mauling required,” I said, chuckling. “Just scare it off, would ya?”
“Scaring things. My new specialty.”
“Nothing’s scarier than seeing you naked afterward,” Val muttered from behind.
“I’ve got a towel,” Dent shot back, jokingly. “Not gonna use it, but I’ve got one.”
“With all that hair?” Eshlyn cut in. “You hardly need it.”
“Gods, so true,” Val added brightly.
“It’s called natural beauty,” Dent snapped.
“Just do the thing,” I groaned. “And maybe invest in expandable pants.”
With a wink, Dent popped the tension in his shoulders and let the change ripple through him. Flesh to fur. Skin to claws. The air shimmered around him like heat off stone, and then he was gone, replaced by a massive grizzly barreling into the underbrush. The ground-shaking bellow.
The convoy behind us froze. Leaves exploded. Branches snapped like bones. Then a streak of black fur, easily the size of a warhound, went darting through the trees like it’d been launched by a catapult. It was ridiculous.
Dent ambled back, mid-shift, nude and proud. I didn’t blink. Just tossed the towel in his direction. “Nice job.”
He caught it one-handed, grinning unrepentantly. “Anytime, princess.”
A few of the younger soldiers blinked like they hadn’t decided whether to cheer or cry, but we carried on without explanation.
...
The sun was already sinking by the time we’d found a clearing wide enough to settle into. Just like the night before, no one wasted time setting up camp. Val was sorting kindling near the center, His eyes catching the firelight. Eshlyn was arguing about something with an overweight merchant. Selene laughed at one of Dent’s jokes, just out of earshot. Normal. Everything looked normal. Except for the thing watching us.
It was back. Despite Dent. Despite the racket of two hundred boots. The same panther-like silhouette, crouched behind a knot of bramble like a shadow with teeth. And I knew. If it was patient enough to wait for nightfall, then it was smart enough to wait for a straggler moseying too far from camp, and I couldn’t let that happen.
A lengthy sigh fell from my lips as I gripped my bow and took a singular step towards it. A moment later, it bolted into the woods, but that was fine. There’d be tracks.
I gave instructions first, quiet ones. Told Val, Dent, and Eshlyn to support the perimeter until I got back. Then I headed across camp toward Kael’s squad.
Their setup hugged the edge of the clearing, flanked by wagons and half-pitched tents. It wasn’t avoidance, but I can tell they’d been keeping their distance. As I approached, I caught a few stares. Not hostile, just measuring. Waiting to see what kind of storm I’d bring with me.
Kael rose from a crouch, dusting off his hands above a fire, and gave a shallow nod. “My Lady,” he said, just short of a bow, like the words tasted sour.
“Just Remy,” I replied, then tilted my head toward the trees. “I’ve got a situation I think you’re uniquely qualified to help with.”
He frowned, but didn’t look surprised. “Let me guess. That little scare tactic from earlier didn’t stick, and now you're worried that the beast will snatch a worker while they're off taking a piss?”
“Aren’t you clever,” I muttered with a smile. “But yes. That’s the gist of it.”
Nico was only a couple of tents off. That’s who I really wanted. Their eyes, their instincts. The only person who might add value, but I wasn’t going to pick a fight over it. “I can track it myself, but not even Dent was able to spot it against the treeline, and I need someone sharp enough to watch my back.”
“How curious. You come all this way, just to borrow from my ranks. That can’t speak well of your own.”
“We each have our strengths.” I said, “But I’m not here for anyone in particular. I want whoever you think is best suited.”
I wasn’t, and I didn’t. But letting him assign them meant he got to feel like he was still in charge.
He sat again, folding his arms. “I’m confident my personnel won’t become cat food. And they’re far too valuable to risk on someone’s paranoia.”
“So you won’t help?”
“I didn’t say that.” He looked me over like I’d just suggested something mildly entertaining.
“I see.” My posture straightened, “What do you want for it?”
“I’m thinking.” He turned his eyes toward the treeline, like the wind might answer for him. A few beats passed before he finally answered, “an honest conversation.”
“A what?”
“You heard me.” He smirked. “You and I. No riddles. No titles. No bullshit. And if I don’t like what I hear, the deal’s off.”
I could go around him, talk to Nico directly, but something about this felt like a test I couldn’t fail.
“I’ve never bullshitted you,” I said. “So ask away.”
“Not here.” He stood and gestured toward the dark edge of the camp. “Let’s walk.”
“Luring me into the woods. Subtle.”
“You’re armed. I’m armed. Let’s not flatter each other.”
I followed then, bow in hand, but we didn’t go far.
Once the noise of camp dulled behind us, I stopped and leaned against a tree. “So… talk.”
He paced a few steps, eyeing me like I might shift into someone else if he stared long enough. Then he stopped. “You said you do not prefer ‘My Lady.’ So what is your title? It’s obvious you’re at least a Lady, more likely a Duchess. And yet…” He tilted his head. “I hear your people call you princess.”
I nearly busted out laughing, jaw hitting the floor, but the shock kept me upright. Gods, how do I even begin addressing that?
He stared. “It’s not a difficult question.”
“Yeah. I. Well.” I blinked. “Ok… first off. What makes you think I have any title at all?”
“Simple. The queen only appoints leadership to influential people from notable houses. By definition, you must at least be in Ladyship.”
“Oh, must I?” I interrupted with as much sass as I could muster.
“You asked my name, recognized my strong family lines, and still… You dismissed me like scum. Something that would make even a Duchess feel out of place.” He paused for a breath. “And so I ask again… ”
“I don’t know what any of that means,” I said plainly. “I dismissed you because you were being an asshole.”
His hand found his chest. “I most certainly was not.”
Gods hes even his bickering is pompous.
“Oh, please.” My brow furrowed. “You got up on that crate like you deserved a stage.”
“One must, as you well know, if they are to be respected.” He stepped in. “And I only did so, because it was evident that you were not going to.”
I shook my head. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“No one from your team stepped up, so I stepped in. Otherwise, you’d have looked foolish.” He waved his hand. “And what did I get for it? A public lashing. That's what.”
“I’m supposed to believe your little power grab was to spare us the embarrassment?”
“Gods,” His eyes rolled. “You really are a self-righteous villainess, aren’t you?”
“OK, Seriously. Why are you so obsessed with me, anyway!?” I snapped.
“Because you still haven’t answered my question!”
“I don’t have a fucking title, you pretentious prick!” I stepped in, only half realizing what was being admitted.
“Impossible!” he hissed. “That is impossible.” His brow furrowed, searching me like the truth might flinch first.
“And I never wanted command.” I forced the words out. “I still don’t.”
“And yet you took it.” He laughed once. “No, more than that. You carved your way in like it was owed to you. Believe me, I’d know… And if you hate being in charge so much, then why not hand it off?”
“Do you want the job?” I softened, just a little. “Is that it?”
“Am I to believe you’d let me?”
“Of course not,” I said too loudly. “You don’t deserve it…” None of you do.
That was the truth, wasn’t it? It just slipped out before I could sand it down. You noble folk place yourselves in charge and fight to be obeyed, but none of you deserve it… But then, neither did I.
Kael looked at me, quieter now. “And what makes you think you do?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
He let it sit. Then, almost gently, “What do I call you, Remy?”
I barked out a humorless laugh. “Call me whatever you want, dipshit. I don’t fucking care.”
“Gods, you are infuriating!” He turned on his heel. “Then do whatever you want. Just stay the hell away from me.”
“Gladly!” I called after him.
...
I didn’t follow him back. Didn’t make my way to Nico’s tent like I planned; just sat for a long moment. Letting the woods watch me until it felt like home, or a bit like relief. The trees, like the night, were unflinching. Just old, unblinking eyes tucked into the bark and bramble.
The clearing behind me buzzed with campfire murmur, crackling wood, laughter too forced to be real, and so I left it behind without fanfare. No announcement. No backup. Just a bow in my hand, the blades at my hip, and boots worn thin from the weight of a role I hadn’t asked for.
Val would’ve stopped me. Dent would’ve cracked some joke, tried to follow. Eshlyn would’ve rolled her eyes, but came anyway. But this, this had to be mine. I took no glory in killing, maybe that's why I needed to be the one to do it. There’d be no games to play. No one looking to me for orders. It needed to be done, and I could do it. So I would.
I moved off the trail and let the dark fold around me like a second skin. There was no light tonight, just mist, memory, and the silent hush that came like a silence before the storm.
A few paces in, I paused. Inhaled. Then focused a spell I molded to mimic Lawrence's uncanny silence.
I curated the thought carefully, instilling my intent without incantation. Silence like snowfall.
The aether slid across my limbs like cool water, deepening the hush around me until even my breath vanished into it. Another spell followed, simple but sure, one to draw out shadow, to make movement gleam sharper in the dark.
The forest lit up in faint auras, animal trails etched in blue light, old disturbances like ripples frozen in time. And there, low to the ground, heavy and broad-pawed were tracks. Still warm.
The brush thickened as I followed, thorns reaching like fingers across my arms. Each step brought me farther from the firelight, but I didn’t slow. This was no bravado in my step, only confession.
Every hour, I gave orders, and people followed. They called me Lady, Commander, Leader. Mistook me for someone worthy, and I let them. I wore it like a mask strapped tight across my teeth. But out here, I was no one, and nothing.
It wasn’t long before I crouched at a break in the brush, frowning at the clean path ahead, pads pressed into the mud just enough to mark the way. No other disturbances. No scuffle of paws. Just one set. Straight line.
The darkness lay differently as I moved deeper into the night. The tracks were easy enough to follow. Too easy, I thought. Too straight.
I froze when a branch creaked in the distance. Realization hitting me all at once.
This isn’t a trail. It’s bait.
My gaze pivoted, just in time to catch a shimmer of fur at the edge of my vision, dark and feline, crouched low behind a gnarled stump.
I knocked an arrow instantly, drawing breath and lining up the shot, but something felt off.
Too perfect.
The image wavered as I forced the bow back, too precise, too poised. The glint of the eye never blinked. A glamour, a simple projection meant to hold my gaze.
My weight shifted before my mind caught up, sending my torso sharply into the dirt, just a moment before pain erupted across my back. A sharp scream tore from my lips as claws raked from shoulder to spine, ripping through the unplated portion of my armor. Shallow but deep enough to burn, I had moved just in time.
The far-off illusion faded as the beast landed ahead of me in a snarl of fur and smoke, the ground shaking under its weight and velvet black fur. The beast was skinny but big as a lion. Night blurring around it as if engulfed in a shadow that wouldn’t stick.
It raced back towards me in the blink of an eye.
I stood, just as fast. Fighting the ice at my back to let an arrow fly. It struck just below the beast's collarbone, but not deep enough.
It roared, mid charge. A low, guttural sound, not in rage, but pain. I dropped the bow in rhythm, drawing both daggers in the same motion. No time to dodge. Just enough to accept what was coming.
The impact took me off my feet. Straight into a heated clash of hot breath, muscle, and bone.
Both blades braced upright as it landed, sinking into its chest, all the way to the hilt. It collapsed on top of me with a sound like muffled thunder. For a moment, I just lay there, pinned. My heart hammering against its ribs.
It growled, low, deep, through the bones. Then stilled. No thrashing or final lunge. Just… breath. Slow and dimming.
I groaned against its weight, shifting to the side and rolling it off till it settled into the earth. Its eyes, still open, caught the moonlight in shards, deep as the night sky.
The pain in my back disappeared. Replaced now with the building sorrow behind my eyes. There was no strength in this defeat. No victory to be had. Only reverent recognition.
I couldn’t help but feel seen. As if it had studied me. Chosen me. It drew me out, not because I was easy prey, but because it knew I’d follow. Its eyes told me everything. It was hungry, sure, starving even, but it had something to protect as well.
My vision drifted to the brush behind where the illusion had stood, just for a moment, but enough to make out a second set of paw prints. Tiny. Barely more than impressions.
No.
My chest caved in as I knelt beside it, pressing a hand to its head.
Of course, it wasn’t just hunting. It was providing.
My lips moved in a silent apology. Not to it, but to the part of me that understood.The part that knew what it felt like to be desperate. The part that would carry this.
A tear landed on its fur, and the beast let out one final breath. Then no more. I stayed for a while. Unmoving. Just listening. Waiting for it to take another breath, but none came.
...
The silence was heavier now. Not just around me, but inside.
I moved slowly, breath shallow, each step a stitch pulled tight across my back. Blood soaked into the side of my tunic, hot where it wasn’t already clotted. I didn’t feel heroic. I felt hollow. The creature’s weight had left a bruise on my ribs, and something worse within.
The forest parted behind me, giving way to firelight and gasps.
Camp was far from quiet. Not anymore.
People stood in clusters, half-dressed, armed, alert. Lanterns swayed. A few archers stood on overturned crates, scanning the trees. The buzz of low voices cut off when I stepped into view.
Then it settled.
My armor was torn. My bow, frayed. The blood on me wasn’t all mine. And across my shoulders, half-draped over like a cape, lay the beast. Its fur black as tar. Its limbs dangling like felled branches.
Someone swore under their breath. Another dropped a mug, but I didn’t meet their eyes. Just walked until I found an open patch of dirt near the center fire and let the body slide from my shoulders like a fallen burden. It landed with a dull thud.
Val reached me first. “Gods,” He whispered, eyes wide. “Remy, are you… What the hell?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Please find someone who knows what to do with this. I don’t want anything going to waste.”
He didn’t move right away. His gaze was on my back, on the shredded cloth and the still-bleeding lines.
“I told you not to go alone,” Val said under his breath. “I told you.”
“I know.” I looked past him, eyes still lost in the trees. “I just… needed to. I can’t explain why.”
Others were watching now. Nico stood not too far off, fully kitted, like they’d nearly run after me. Kael was a few paces back, shaking his head. Selene looked paler than a ghost, and Dent was quietly moving through the growing clumps of people, Eshlyn in tow.
Val followed my gaze, something unreadable on his face. But there wasn’t much to say, so he didn’t push. He only sighed, then placed a hand on my arm. “Come on. Let’s clean you up.”
I nodded. Letting him lead me into a nearby medical tent.
...
I hissed as Dent peeled back another layer of fabric, wet with fresh blood.
“Aw, come on, Remy. Don’t be a wuss,” he muttered, low and wholly unconvincing.
I gritted my teeth. “Guess you’re not feeling particularly gentle tonight.”
“I could have helped, you know,” he said, dragging a slow hand down my spine. “Warding off nightmare cats is kinda my thing.”
“It just would’ve come back,” I winced. “I was better alone.”
“Mmhm. Yeah. I can tell,” he replied flatly.
Eshlyn perched beside a crate, arms crossed. “Shouldn’t this be done by now?”
Val chimed in, tone sharp. “Yeah, you’ve been poking at her for half an hour. What’s taking so long?”
“I’m trying,” Dent snapped, not looking up. “These aren’t clean cuts. They’re gouges. Rips.”
I blinked. “Wait. Seriously?”
He gave me a look. “Yes, Remy. This wasn’t a friendly kitty scratch. You got shredded. Some of this is barely holding together.”
“Damn.” I tried to relax, but his hand pressed firm over the deepest tear along my shoulder blade. Heat flared beneath the skin, not the kind that promised healing, more like magic working too hard to help.
Eshlyn reached into her satchel, pulling out a small glass jar of emerald salve. “Can we please just use the tincture already?”
I shook my head. “Save it. Dent’s patched me up before.”
The tent flap rustled open. Lyssa stepped inside, followed by a broad, bearded figure and a redhead I’d only seen in passing. Then Nico, quiet as ever, slipped in behind them, filling every bit of open space left in the tent.
The redhead spoke first, all grin and attitude. “You’re one hell of a shot, Remy.”
“I got lucky,” I muttered, instantly irritated. “And it’s hardly notable to kill a mother trying to feed her children.”
“Taking down a Shadowmaw is nothing to scoff at,” said the bearded man, voice deep. “Now that we know what it is, it’s a good thing you did what you did.”
“It was just a starving cat,” I said, thinking of the illusion, the false trail, the way it lured me like it knew how.
“We’re not here to congratulate you,” Nico said, voice flat. “But it’s true. Rumor is they’re rare. And very intelligent.”
“Not smart enough, apparently,” the redhead said, tilting her head slightly.
Dent’s prodding sent a sharp shiver up my spine. “What do y’all want?” I hissed through my teeth. “Sorry. Not to be rude, but now’s not the best time.”
“Kael sent us to check on you,” Lyssa replied. “Well… he sent me, at least.”
Val snorted. “Too proud to walk over himself?”
“You’ll have to tell him that next time you see him,” the bearded one said, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “Name’s Tovin. Front Guard for the Vanguard Fangs. House… ” he paused, watching my face shift. “You can just call me Tovin.”
He was taller than Val and broader than Dent. Brown hair cropped clean, a beard trimmed to symmetry. He looked like someone who could throw an ox cart.
“And this is Sierra,” he gestured to the redhead, “our offensive caster. She… ”
Sierra pranced forward with the kind of energy that made the tent feel smaller. Long burgundy hair laced back in haphazard braids, a glint in her brown eyes that didn’t need explanation.
“Sierra Summer,” she said proudly. “You can call me Scortch.”
We introduced ourselves in turn, exchanging the usual pleasantries. I tried to stay present, but it felt like Dent was clawing deeper into my back with every passing second.
Lyssa must’ve noticed. “Need some help with that?”
“Please do.” I wiped sweat from my brow, not bothering to spare Dent’s feelings.
“This usually works.” He slumped with a wounded sigh. “What am I doing wrong?”
“Hmm.” Lyssa’s hands replaced his, warm and steady in all the right places. “Your technique is sound. Even if you failed all your classes.”
“What the hell?” Dent looked genuinely offended. “How’d you know that?”
She smiled. “You don’t recognize me? From Four?”
A ripple of painful relief passed through my back as skin began stitching itself together under her touch. “Wait, you two know each other?” I asked, finally drawing full breath.
“Not well,” Lyssa said breezily. “He was always off ‘enjoying nature’s gifts’ instead of paying attention in academy.”
“I picked up what I needed to,” Dent shot back, grinning. “Besides, that shit was soooo boring.”
“Figures we got the dropout,” Val smirked, unapologetically.
“Wow.” An unbelieving smile tugged at Eshlyn’s lips. “What gods did I offend to get stuck with this lot?”
“Heyy, I can heal. I can shift. School just wasn’t my thing.” Dent looked at me for backup. “Tell ’em, Remy. You know.”
I decided to take pity. “Dent’s plenty able. And besides, teaching myself to read was the only bit of formal education I ever got.”
The room stilled a little.
Eshlyn blinked. “You taught yourself to read?”
“Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “Where else would I have learned it?”
Everyone looked at me like I’d just confessed to being an orphan raised by shadows. “What?” I asked, suddenly aware of how quiet it had gotten.
Eshlyn looked down. “Sorry. That’s just… a bit sad, is all.”
“Oh.” I waved them off. “Well, I turned out fine.”
But I could feel the silence stretch before Val cracked another joke at Dent’s expense.