The spirits had been kind to Astrid that morning.

  After stalking the shufflosnout for four days, her final trap had proven effective. The little roach had a nasty bite if the pair of teeth at the end of its long nose found flesh. But she’d sheared its leaves without issue and released him back to his high tree branches. Kemna would be thrilled—a full [Cat Pack]’s worth of shufflosnout leaves would keep all of Khasstead free from the season’s stranger’s delusion illness.

  “Astrid! Just the face I wanted to see,” a voice called to her right.

  “Good afternoon, Sylva.” Astrid slowed her pace.

  Sylva’s eyes seemed tired; their usual bright green were dulled by the weary circles beneath them. “Did the forest treat you well?” Her smile was just as tired as her gaze.

  “It did. Shufflosnouts don’t make for the most exciting hunts, but we won’t need to track them again until next year.” She gestured to her [Cat Pack] with a grin. “For such a gentle herbivore, their camouflage is a greater challenge than any predator’s.”

  “They must know the worth of their hide.” Sylva chuckled.

  “And how desperately we want to keep Lily from having another bout of hallucinations.” Now that the pleasantries are over with… “Was there a new request from Ronona for me?” Astrid hadn’t received a new Encroacher target from the Guild Hall in quite some time.

  “No. I don’t believe so.”

  Astrid tilted her head and pursed her lips. “But you were looking for me?”

  Sylva’s brows raised. “Oh! Yes. I’m sorry to hand you another task so soon after your return, but I must ask you a favor.”

  “Do you need something hunted?”

  “No. Not exactly.”

  Astrid raised her arm in the air, signaling Freyja, her azure gale, to join her on the ground. “Ask away.”

  “Khasstead has welcomed a new [Scout] to her sisterhood.” Sylva’s ears twitched forward, and the corners of her mouth turned down. “She is…stubborn.”

  You don’t like her. Astrid recognized her frustration as easily as she knew Freyja’s agitation. “What happened?”

  “She received her mark and pursued it yesterday without a modicum of research—neither asking her sisters nor following the beast herself.”

  “What was the mark?”

  “A furlocke.”

  Astrid clicked her tongue. Freyja alighted on her shoulder and preened Astrid’s hair. “She’s lucky to be alive.”

  “I said the same. Keke does not view it this way.” Sylva sighed. “May I be candid?”

  “Always.”

  “While a novice mistake is not a reason to expel an interested candidate from Khasstead, her initial approach and refusal to accept her blunder are…worrying.”

  Ah, there it is. Astrid appreciated Sylva’s transparency in all things; one never had to wonder where they stood in her graces. “What would you have me do?”

  “Speak with her. Take her beneath your wing.” Sylva raised her eyes to the sky. “Wren and Lily would want me to give her a second chance, and there are few better [Sniper]s in Khasstead.”

  “I can do that.”

  Sylva laid a hand on Astrid’s arm. “I trust your judgment, Astrid. If you do not believe Keke is fit for our village, I pray you will tell me.”

  “Of course, Sylva. You’ll have my full report.” There was no reason to keep a [Scout] ready to die in Khasstead, nor one who put bravado before her sisters. That put unnecessary blood on all of their hands.

  Relief relaxed the worried wrinkles on Sylva’s forehead. “Spirits cradle you, Astrid.”

  “It’s not a problem. Where is she?”

  “Will you not get supper first? Our hunts have fared well this week, and you must be hungry.”

  The sooner she got this over with, the better. “I’ll eat once I’m finished.” Sylva frowned, and Astrid held up a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. Really.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Sylva hummed a note of disbelief, but gave up the pursuit. “As you wish. Keke is in her cabin. This way.”

  Astrid matched Sylva’s steps, letting her head lean against Freyja’s warm, blue wing. However, Freyja wasn’t so interested in cuddling at the moment; instead, she flock-called to Fletcher, Sylva’s inked tellura. He was always looming somewhere nearby, though his dark coloring made him difficult to pick out. Fletcher cried back from the shadows, but he didn’t appear. Freyja chirped and clicked a few low sounds of annoyance at her friend’s dismissal, and Astrid chuckled.

  Understanding Encroachers was so much easier than understanding other people.

  “Here we are.” Sylva gestured to the stairs leading up to Keke’s cabin. “Bella is tending to her, so another face shouldn’t be a surprise.”

  “Alright.” Astrid reached into her [Cat Pack] and withdrew four burlap sacks of shufflosnout leaves. “Would you kindly bring these to Kemna for me?”

  “Of course. That’s the least I can do.” Sylva accepted the bags and deposited them into her own pack. “You will eat when you’re finished?”

  “I swear on my bow.” Astrid hopped up the stairs, and Freyja made a quick flight to her other shoulder. “You’ll find me in the dining hall in a little while.”

  “Good luck, Astrid.”

  Astrid pushed open the door to find a cheery fire and Bella sitting beside it. No hunting trophies hung from the walls, and the floor was absent of new furs. Keke really had just arrived in Khasstead.

  “Oh, Sister Astrid! Welcome back from your hunt!” Bella greeted brightly. “Did the forest treat you well?”

  “Eventually, yes.” Astrid shut the door behind her, then motioned to the door Bella stood beside. “Is Keke in there?”

  “Y-yes, she is. How did you know—?”

  “I just need to talk to her.” Before Bella could ask any more questions, Astrid moved to Keke’s room and opened the door. She was hungry, in need of a bath, and ready for her own bed.

  Keke was sitting up in her bed, her [Cat Pack] lay open on the blanket with various contents lined over the furs. Her dark brown hair was in disarray, and her golden eyes were fixed on her lap. A map? It looked like Thorn’s work.

  “I told you, Bella. I don’t need anything else,” Keke grumbled.

  Freyja chirped, and Keke’s concentration broke in favor of the new noise. She blinked and licked her lips, looking from the azure gale to Astrid. “Have we met?”

  “Not yet. I’m Astrid.” She moved to stand on the side of the bed. Freyja inched down her bicep and leaned forward, peering at Keke with wide, black eyes. “This is Freyja.”

  Keke smirked and looked back down at the map. “Did Sylva send you to tell me a furlocke killed your family?”

  “Wow. For a woman wrapped in bandages under the watch of Khasstead’s best healer, your confidence is impressive.”

  No response.

  “How long did you track the furlocke, Keke?”

  “I didn’t need to track it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I had the perfect shot,” Keke growled. “Anyone would have taken that shot.”

  “Any [Scout], maybe.” Keke’s eyes narrowed. Astrid continued. “No [Hunter] or [Sniper] worth their bow would have attacked an Encroacher without knowing—at the bare minimum—its physiology.”

  Keke tossed the map aside and turned her glower on Astrid. Freyja retreated to Astrid’s shoulder. “Just when I’d escaped one person with a blue bird telling me what to do—”

  “What did you bring back from your hunt?” Astrid kept her voice calm and inoffensive.

  Keke’s jaw hung wide, still caught in the middle of her sentence. She slowly closed it, then rolled her tongue around her mouth. “What should I have brought back?”

  “Meat, herbs, remedies, minerals, furs, maps, information.” Astrid crossed her arms over her leather bodice. “Anything to help your fellow sisters.”

  “I was pursuing my mark.”

  “That doesn’t excuse you from providing something of value to Khasstead.”

  “Information, then. You can’t shoot a furlocke in the back of the head.”

  “New information.”

  “Mm.” Keke wore her pride like a cloak. It would choke her, and they would bury her in it if she didn’t learn some humility.

  “The short of it is, Keke, when your hunt doesn’t contribute to Khasstead, you don’t eat.”

  Keke’s ears flattened, and a new wave of annoyance passed over her features. “I know how to hunt.”

  “Your performance yesterday says otherwise.” Astrid’s stomach growled, and Freyja nibbled her ear. They were both hungry and tired—two beasts that sapped the [Energy] to fight like no other. She sighed. “Look. Why not shadow me for a few days? I can teach you how to study your target over a period longer than a couple of hours.” She gestured to Keke’s map. “I’ll teach you how to draw your own maps, too.”

  “And what experience do you have, Astrid?”

  Astrid grinned. “I’m the [Sniper] Ronona’s [Guild Hall] calls on when they need a new species of Encroacher monitored and hunted.”

  Keke’s shoulders fell, and she bit her lip. “I really won’t eat tonight?”

  The fight was leaving her. Good. If near-fatal injuries weren’t enough for a trainee, the threat of an empty belly would usually do the trick. “I think I can get Sylva to make one exception. But I’ll need to hear some magic words.”

  She pulled her knees to her chest and hissed when they brushed her wounds. “I screwed up.”

  “That’s a good start.”

  Keke rested her forehead against her knees. “I’ll come with you.”

  Astrid nodded. Keke’s pride was likely to flare up again—like an aggressive Encroacher trying to retake its territory—but she could work with this. “You’ll want to apologize to Sylva when you see her next.”

  “I will.”

  Good girl. “Rest up. Bella will bring you dinner soon.” She turned and laid her hand on the door.

  “Astrid.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Have you killed a furlocke?”

  A wry smile spread across Astrid’s lips. “Eleven. So far.” Without another word, she left Keke to her thoughts.

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