Rillik was fed up with being treated like a kid. Arven would be laid up for a day, maybe two. Sheema didn't have enough sweets to relieve her own exhaustion, and they were eating through their stores of food rapidly. They'd already cleared all the nearby bushes of berries. They needed to hunt.

  Finally, he got sick of waiting for permission and just left when no one was looking. He had been practicing hard, and Arven was a good teacher. He knew his woodcraft was excellent, hugely better than Arven thought, very much improved from even a week ago. And he knew how to knife fight better, in case he ran into any humans.

  But he wouldn't be deliberately hunting humans. He needed to bring back food to stop them from getting mad at him. If he killed a deer, great. If he killed a human and took their food, well, it wasn't his fault. He wasn't trying to hunt humans. Really.

  Rillik headed south, towards the settlement they had avoided. Arven wasn't doing much hunting this way, so really, he had a perfectly good reason to try this direction. Besides, he was practicing. Rillik trained himself in being stealthy, listening to the sounds he made and trying to be quieter, looking for traces he'd left behind him and trying to leave fewer.

  He spotted one of the little hopping animals with long ears. They were quick. Rillik was quicker. He threw his dagger.

  He missed.

  The hopper fled.

  Rillik hissed a lot of bad words as he retrieved his dagger. He'd almost wrenched something in his shoulder with that throw. I've got to get better at that.

  With a frustrated sigh, he headed farther south. It's actually good that I missed, he told himself. If I had hit it, I would have had to turn around and bring it back to camp. He wanted to get farther before he was forced to return—see what he could see, first.

  Rillik walked for hours. He spotted deer a couple of times, but they spooked early and he never got a chance at them. He reluctantly admitted to himself that Arven was probably a better hunter than he was. For now.

  He remembered the bodies of water they had passed, seeing them now in reverse. The distinctive twists of that creek, the shape of this pond, the tiny waterfall shorter than he was. He would never get lost unless he went water-blind. Which is possible if it rains hard enough, he reminded himself. But, if that happens, I'll just wait for the rain to clear.

  He got hungry, and picked a lot of berries, eating them all as he walked. I should probably save some, he thought, but kept on eating every one he found until he was full. Then he started saving berries.

  I hope I can steal some food from the humans, he admitted to himself. It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as killing them, but annoying them and costing them was a start. That town was a few days' travel farther, though.

  ° ? ? ? °

  Rillik knew that he should turn back if he wanted to get back to camp by nightfall. He told himself he was just going a little farther, and repeated that to himself every quarter hour until it was pretty obvious that he wouldn't get back before it got dark. Well, as long as I've come this far, I might as well keep going, then. I just need to get back by nightfall tomorrow, right?

  Rillik was getting pretty tired, but he could rest whenever he wanted. He wasn't waiting for anyone, and wasn't holding others back—which he pretended wasn't the real worry. The adults are just snails. I'm smaller, I can move quicker.

  He ate a few berries as he walked. He was getting kind of sick of those black berries, honestly. He really hoped that he could catch something or other. He pulled out some jerky next and chewed it slowly, pushing himself to keep going and get as far as he possibly could before nightfall.

  Eventually, Rillik started tripping over roots and rocks because it got too dark to see. He reluctantly realized that he needed to stop for the night. It was time to find a resting spot.

  Rillik located the biggest tree nearby, and climbed over halfway up. When he got too close to the top, he stuck out of the canopy, and the wind was sharper and colder, so he settled himself a few branches below that. He knew he wouldn't fall, but just to show that he was mature and competent, he tied a rope to the branch and to his belt, like he had been taught.

  As darkness fell, the sounds of the forest changed. Nearly all the birds grew quiet. Rillik shivered, and couldn't really stop shivering. He hadn't packed a bedroll or blanket because he wasn't sure he could do that without getting caught. Now, he was regretting his decision.

  He was so cold that it was hard to fall asleep. He stood up on the branch and picked a bunch of leaves, stuffing them down his tunic just to have something as another layer to keep his chest warm. He had to keep shifting position to stop parts of his body from going numb. It was a long, miserable night, and Rillik was sorry he had gone on this adventure.

  ° ? ? ? °

  The birds woke him. At the first sign of dawn, a few chirps and peeps started, and by sunrise, it was an absolute thunder of birdsong. He knew it wasn't true, but it sounded as if Rillik would have to push a bunch of birds out of his way just to climb down the tree.

  He reached for his pack. Because he was so cold and stiff, he misjudged the distance, and knocked it off the branch. Trying to recover, he tumbled after it, but grabbed the branch almost well enough to stop himself. The rope did the rest. The sudden jerk was painful and was sure to leave bruises at least. That's going to need Sheema, he grunted, and looked down.

  The pack had tumbled through the leaves and branches, landing with a thud on a low branch. Sighing, Rillik forced his muscles to move and get himself sorted out. He wasn't going to leave the rope behind, after all. He hadn't tied the knot right, and it took him a few minutes and aching fingers before it got it untied and the rope coiled up again.

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  Wary of falling now, Rillik used a lot more care than usual on his way down. He was glad of it in a couple of spots where he could easily have slipped because he was so stiff. He reached the ground and took a breather, then realized that his pack was still up there.

  He grumbled as he climbed back up to the branch the pack had landed on. As he worked his way out to it, the branch bowed, and the pack fell to the forest floor. He cursed a lot more on his way back down again, and this time, he slipped at the last moment. Fortunately, he landed well and injured nothing but his pride.

  His berries were smashed into jam, which was now smeared over some of the things in his pack. Rillik stomped off to the nearest creek to wash. The water was icy cold, but it did serve to wake him up fully.

  It was time to make a decision. He knew the adults would want him to turn around and head back, so that he would arrive by nightfall. But Rillik hadn't seen enough yet. He kept going south.

  ° ? ? ? °

  Rillik spotted another deer, and did his best to sneak up on it. This time he managed to get close enough for a throw. He wished he were strong enough to hurl a spear for a killing blow, but all he had for now was his dagger. He had to aim for the head or neck, because the deer wasn't going to be so kind as to present its chest to him while staying oblivious to his presence.

  He spent a long time working up his nerve, waiting for the right moment, shifting carefully to a better position. He pushed down his nerves and steadied himself, just like Arven said. He took a breath, held it, and threw.

  He hit the deer, but on its flank, not its neck where he had been aiming. Wounded, the deer bolted—with Rillik's dagger still clinging to the animal. Rillik sprang up and ran in pursuit, but the deer easily outran him and eventually vanished from view. He kept going and caught a glimpse of it, but Rillik tired faster than the deer did. Eventually, chest heaving, he sank into a crouch, cursing himself for losing his dagger.

  If only I had thrown better. If only I was stronger!

  He fell forward onto his knees and pounded his fists into the dirt in frustration.

  Now what am I going to do?

  ° ? ? ? °

  Eventually, Rillik accepted the obvious truth that he wasn't going to get any more hunting done on this trip. And knowing the likely reactions of the adults, this was going to be his last trip for a while. He had to bring back something. He couldn't hunt. He'd have to be lucky. I've got to find something useful to bring back...

  ...or steal it, he realized.

  That would work. If I sneak into the human town, and swipe a bunch of food, maybe a replacement dagger, maybe even a bow, then the adults couldn't stay mad at me.

  Rillik felt a touch of disappointment that he would be near humans without a weapon, but consoled himself that he might be able to steal one. And then...well, he had to make sure he survived and brought back the spoils. He refused to die with the adults saying, “of course he got killed, he was just a kid.”

  Glad to have a plan, Rillik resumed his trek south. It was a long day again, but he made good progress.

  That night, Rillik found a hollowed-out tree and settled himself inside. This was a lot better than staying up in the tree—much warmer. Rillik fell asleep quickly, grateful that he had found a nicer place to rest.

  ° ? ? ? °

  Hours later, he woke in the night to hot, stinky air in his face and a snuffling sound. He opened his eyes and couldn't see anything—the split in the tree was completely blocked. The snuffling sounds continued, directly above him. Rillik froze. What is it? A chezzak?

  He could hear licking sounds, but didn't feel the animal's tongue. Scratching sounds led to bits of wood falling on him. It's eating the bugs in the wood, the ones I didn't get. And it's big. Why isn't it eating me?

  Rillik closed his eyes and lay very still, his heart pounding, as the snuffling sounds grew closer. Finally, a wet snout pushed against his head gently, and a big, raspy tongue messed with his hair. After dozens of Rillik's frantic heartbeats, the animal shifted its head away from him. It felt like an eternity before the giant creature lost interest in the hollowed-out tree and withdrew its head and paw, slowly lumbering off without a care in the world.

  Rillik continued to lie still out of caution. He absolutely did not want that thing to come back. He waited for the sounds to fade, and then waited some more.

  It took a long while for him to find the courage to climb out and stand up. He went to the closest brook and cleaned himself as best he could, scrubbing his clothes and shivering.

  He didn't manage to get any more sleep that night.

  ° ? ? ? °

  On his third day of travel, Rillik climbed a tree for a view, and could make out the smoke from a number of fires, and signs of a large clearing. The human town. I'm almost there.

  Now that he was close, Rillik was having second thoughts. He was suddenly very aware that he was one young elf against an entire continent of evil humans. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. But I'm here, and I've got to bring something back with me or the others will kill me.

  He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and started moving more carefully, watching for tracks, wary for any movement that might be humans in the distance. It was actually pretty exhausting to concentrate that hard for a long time. Rillik had to take breaks, where he would hide on the north side of a boulder or large tree, close his eyes and wait for his heart to calm.

  He crossed a game trail, careful to disguise his passage. The terrain was fairly hilly; he considered climbing another tree to see how close he was getting to the humans. He stayed low instead—he didn't want to be accidentally exposed through a gap in the branches.

  It was getting on towards late afternoon. Rillik wondered whether he would reach the town before dark, and if so, where he was going to hide for the night. Do I dare sneak into a stable or barn and sleep there? He knew his mission was to steal something useful and get out, but the thought of sleeping somewhere warm for the first time in three nights was painfully tempting.

  His ears caught something—he dropped to a crouch and listened. Whatever it was didn't repeat, and Rillik started to wonder whether he had imagined it. He was about to get up and resume walking when it came again, and this time he could make it out: human voices.

  Heart pounding, Rillik listened as the humans—it sounded like two of them—drew closer. He didn't know any of their language aside from a handful of words the human Tom had taught before Rillik had left his company. But from the tone, one man was giving some kind of warning or urging caution, and the other was scoffing at his fears. It was fairly late to be heading this far out of town, unless they were camping.

  The two humans never came closer than about sixty paces, and showed no sign that they had detected Rillik's presence. He waited until the sound of them had completely faded before he started to move again. Even if I had my dagger, I would have had no chance against two full-grown humans. Rillik had imagined himself a hunter, but really, he was the one at risk of being hunted here. He didn't want to find out what the humans would do if they saw him.

  I need to be a ghost, he told himself. Leave no sign. Be one with the forest. Blend into it.

  Rillik started forward again, looking for whichever building was the farthest out from the town. He didn't know what he would find, what lay ahead, but he was determined.

  I will not leave this place empty-handed.