Day twenty-five of our freedom.

  Sheema gave thanks to the spirits every morning when she woke. It was something she had done every morning of her life since she was a child. She would think of things she was grateful for, and take a moment to cherish them, and everything positive in life.

  Granted, that list of positive things had gotten a lot shorter in recent months, but that just showed how much more appreciative Sheema could be of those things when she didn't take them for granted—things like freedom. In the middle of the human continent, as far from other elves as it was possible to get, they had regained their freedom.

  Well, two of us for certain, at least. But I can be grateful that I'm not alone! she told herself firmly.

  Brallik wasn't the best of company, it was true. She had to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to cheer him up and get him to do things in the camp. She tried to lead by example, but she was...not particularly gifted in the arts of woodcraft or homemaking. Still, there were some parts she could figure out, and those she did diligently.

  Brallik did get up and move around, once he realized that it was possible that neither Rillik nor Arven would return, and it would be up to just the two of them to continue to survive in this forest as colder weather approached. Brallik didn't want to work, but he also didn't want to starve, and he could at least be relied upon to go gather berries and nuts while Sheema tended the fire. He had even attempted to reset Arven's snares, though he clearly had no confidence in his efforts.

  We work with the tools we have. Sheema did her Temple exercises every morning, working to strengthen her connection to the spirits. There was always the chance that the generous spirits would grant her a new ability. She worked to deepen her Affinities every day, and practiced small magics, such as fending off illness that might have taken down Brallik or herself. She wandered the nearby woods, always looking for places with the most friendly spirits of each Affinity.

  Sheema was good at magic, and she took great pride in it. It proved that she was more than just a pretty face and excessive figure. She knew that most strangers would always see that and only that about her, but any who got to know her in the slightest soon learned that she had a rare talent for Healing, and Healers were always granted respect.

  It was true that, by focusing on her magic so much, Sheema was...less than able in a lot of everyday skills. She was very short, and not strong at all, and those were—she thought—decent reasons for why she wasn't as talented at basic woodcraft. An honest part of her did worry about being a little bit spoiled or lazy, and when that feeling nagged at her too strongly, she did more Temple exercises, or looked for people who needed her magic.

  She just happened to have skills that worked best in larger communities. As one of only two people camping in the woods, she was...less useful. It wasn't anything to be ashamed of, really.

  In an attempt to improve herself, she had started dragging the heaviest fallen logs she could move into the camp, hopefully to build up and improve their shelter. It was a little demoralizing when Brallik mistook them for simple firewood because the pieces were so small. But, he occasionally dragged a heavier log into camp. So far, they were simply making a pile. But, that's at least a windbreak, right? Every little bit helps, surely.

  Sheema spent a lot of time looking to the south. It would be two more days just for Arven to make the round trip if he found Rillik immediately. Of course, it didn't bode well that Rillik could have been back two days ago even if the boy had gone all the way to the town.

  It feels as if I'm in a ghost story, with the others disappearing one by one. If anything happens to Brallik and he disappears, I'll know I'm living in a ghost story.

  ...Maybe I should put up some wards, just in case?

  ° ? ? ? °

  It was getting on towards evening, and Sheema had just finished boiling another batch of nuts when she heard the tweet of a marsh-caller. There weren't any marsh-callers on this continent, at least that they had ever heard in the forest. She and Brallik looked at each other. She whispered, “Did you hear that?”

  “One of them is back, and they're being cautious about it. Quick, grab your pack just in case, and go a short distance north. If they've been captured by humans and are under duress, they might be trying to warn us. I'll...” Brallik swallowed. “I'll stay here and whistle back to them, once you're a safe distance away.”

  I didn't think you had it in you, Brallik. Sheema was surprised and grateful. “Thank you. If I can think of anything that would help...”

  “Just stay hidden. I'll call out 'a hero returns' if it's an elf and 'welcome, stranger' if it's a human. If I don't hear from you and it's safe, I'll make a fire whistler call—that's nice and loud. Now, go, and hurry.”

  “Spirits' blessings, Brallik Ollerift.”

  “From you, that's got a lot of weight. Thank you. Go.”

  Sheema went. The horrible slave collar was in her pack. In the worst case, if she were found and about to be captured by humans, she'd put the collar on and tell them she belonged to Tom Walker. It might not improve her situation much, but any human's protection would be better than none. She knew what she looked like, and she knew what fate awaited her if a group of human men caught her alone in the woods with no defense.

  She hurried into the woods, aiming for a nearby thicket she had found that was particularly popular with spirits of Fire. Brallik followed her for a minute, erasing her footprints, then doubled back, letting his own footsteps cast a fog for any trackers. It was only a couple of minutes at a trot to reach the thicket, and she crouched, listening hard.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  She heard “marsh-callers” tweeting back and forth for a while, and then, several minutes later, a fire whistler call. Thank the spirits. Relieved, Sheema shouldered her pack and slowly worked her way back. She heard a familiar but unexpected voice before the camp came back into view.

  Varga?!? Sheema's eyes widened and she started running, grinning madly.

  She honestly had thought she would never hear her friend's voice again. Sheema still couldn't quite believe it, not until she burst into the clearing and got seized in a tight hug from her much taller friend.

  “Varga!”

  “There you are!”

  She pulled back enough to look up at the redhead. Varga wasn't wearing a slave collar. “You're alive! And free!”

  “Yup! You, too! Good job!”

  Sheema tilted to see past Varga, and spotted Orvan talking to Brallik. “Orvan! Welcome!” The old elf nodded to her with a smile. He's smiling. That's...really good. Sheema blinked tears away. She kept looking, but didn't see Kervan or Diavla.

  “The others?” she asked, her smile fading with worry, but Varga kept on grinning.

  “They're fine. They're safe. They're traveling with Tom to Oak Mill by the roads,” the taller elf explained. “They sent us to find the four of you. We're going to get out of here, Sheema. We're really going to go home!” Sheema frowned, disbelieving. “No, really!” Varga insisted. “The caravan goods sold for over a hundred gold coins! We're going to travel to the southern coast, find an elven embassy, and get on a boat back to Salathin!”

  “That sounds...too good to be true...” Sheema stepped back and eyed her friend warily, looking her over. She saw a flash of something on Varga's left hand and caught it in her own. “What's this?” The flash came from a silver ring with a tiny emerald and a pretty braided vine pattern. She looked up, and Varga looked incredibly smug.

  “It's from Tom,” she gloated.

  “You seduced him.” That made more sense; if Varga had captured the human's heart, he might actually be helping them the way she said.

  “Yup! Took some doing, let me tell you! Actually, Diavla beat me to it.”

  “What?” Sheema blinked. “Diavla seduced the human?”

  “Yup!”

  “Diavla did?”

  “I know!” Varga was hopping in place, grinning hugely. “It's everything I've always wanted for her! She's gotten interested in sex, finally, and she and Tom lost their virginity together—after I had my way with her, of course.”

  “What?” Sheema was having trouble keeping up. “Diavla's interested in sex? You seduced her? What in the world and sky happened?”

  ° ? ? ? °

  They sat around the fire, eating food Varga and Orvan had brought while they told their stories. Orvan had taken over preparing dinner, and that alone was a cause for celebration. There were even some stale sweets called cookies, that were still pretty tasty after over a week in Orvan's pack.

  It was mostly Varga doing the talking, as she and Orvan had had the more eventful two weeks by far. The two of them set up a fancy tent next to the shelter as they spoke, and Varga showed off the nice armor and other gear that Tom had bought for them.

  The newcomers used some of the materials Brallik had gathered to improve the shelter. The men would sleep there while Sheema and Varga took the tent. The night was going to be very cold, but Varga assured Sheema that the tent was warmer than it looked.

  So much had happened, that it was late before they had even finished the basic tale of their adventures. When Varga explained about the demons, Sheema was horrified.

  “Three demons? And dozens more in crystals that might break? This is beyond my worst nightmares!”

  “That's why we came to grab you guys, so we can get the fuck out of this forest before the wars start!”

  Sheema's mind raced. “I think we already encountered one of the demons.”

  “What!?”

  Sheema nodded. “Arven was attacked by a pack of these gray four-legged beasts, and the leader tried to do something to his soul. Fortunately, it appears to have failed—I checked him over, and he's fine. Apparently, Arven is one of those resistant to demonic possession.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Just over a week ago.”

  “Has it happened again?”

  “No; Arven was laid up for a few days afterwards with a broken collarbone, and that was when Rillik decided to go off on his ill-advised adventure. Nothing has come near the camp, thank the spirits.”

  Everyone stared out into the woods for a moment, thinking about the demons on the loose somewhere out there. The last of the daylight was fading from the sky, and night creatures were starting to make their sounds. Some unfamiliar bird made a strange call that sounded like, “hooooo.” The elves huddled a little closer to the fire as a chilly breeze tried to suck the heat right out of them.

  “So, what now?” Brallik asked.

  Varga shrugged. “I dunno. I guess we wait here for a few days, see if Arven or Rillik return. If they're not both back by then, we leave them a note and go into Oak Mill. Tom and the others are supposed to get to town tomorrow night, so they'll warn people that we're coming, and not to hurt us. We can walk right into town and just call Tom's name until someone fetches him.”

  “But we have to wear the collars,” Sheema pointed out, to confirm.

  “Yeah, but it's just for show. Tom takes off our collars for us whenever we're going to be out of sight of the other humans for a while. That means every night before bed, and all the time we're hanging out in our rooms, and a lot of the time on the road.”

  Orvan spoke up. “Tom is very young, and possibly a touch too trusting. I believe in his good intentions toward us. He has had ample opportunities to betray us, and has instead taken every chance to improve our situation. It's not his fault that this kingdom outlaws free elves, and he's doing his best to help us work around that.”

  “Basically, we had the spirits' own luck when Tom came our way,” Varga concluded.

  Sheema respected Orvan's opinion, but still had her suspicions. “Did Tom pressure you to have sex with him?” Varga's eyes bugged out for a moment, then she burst out laughing. “Did he pressure Diavla?” Varga shook her head, still giggling, then tried to compose herself.

  “If you had any idea how hard he struggled, so determined not to do that, you'd laugh too. He wanted us desperately, and I thought he was going to blow steam out his ears more than once. Diavla and I surprised him by kissing each other and he fell down a flight of stairs! It was hilarious. Teasing him has been huge fun.”

  Sheema stared at the flighty redhead incredulously. Does she have any idea just how big a bonfire she was playing with? Does it even register with her that he could have killed her with an angry thought? It must have been nerve-wracking for the others, watching her pet the shark like that. Perhaps Diavla seduced him as a desperation move to keep Varga from getting them all killed. I'll have to have a serious talk with her in private.

  It all sounded too good to be true. Sheema resolved to be vigilant. Tom Walker had ogled her at first, just like every other man she had ever met. She would have to wait and see whether he pressured her to have sex with him, and what his behavior around the other women was really like.

  Spirits know I try to stay positive, but this...? Something is almost sure to go wrong. I need to be ready for when it does.