Elara seems to almost glow as I look at her.

  ‘Well she certainly seems to be taking to this better than you did, Del.’

  ‘Be quiet, why do you always have to comment and butt in?’

  Inwardly I sneer. ‘Because you need someone to point out what a complete idiot you are.’

  ‘Bastard.’

  Elara’s eyes are fixed on mine. “You live with this all the time?” she asks, awe tinging her voice. “It’s incredible. Teach told me so much, about how I can use this, how I can get stronger.”

  She stands up and stretches. Picks up a thick branch and snaps it easily, then runs. Laughing, she runs from the mayhem of the raiders’ camp and leaps high, grasping a tree limb and swinging up effortlessly, performing a series of quick lithe movements. She has always been so much more agile than me, her natural grace making my clumsy stomping look barbaric in comparison. Now she is on another level. I walk out of the camp towards where she is testing her newfound strength and agility.

  “When you finish playing,” I call to her, “we still need to go get Naomi.”

  This has the immediate effect of sobering her up. Her laughter stops and she drops lightly back to the ground. She joins me, looking abashed.

  “I got carried away. How on Terras could I have forgotten Naomi?”

  “It’s alright, you got a bit excited.” I smile as I see Misty padding towards us. “When I first arrived, I started out no better than any other human here. My improvements came slowly, with effort. Before she left, Menolly told me that you were to be boosted based on your life experience so far, so you have received a sudden rush of new strength and ability.” Misty looks at Elara curiously as I finish speaking. “It’s bound to have gone to your head a bit.”

  ‘I have found where the kitten is held,’ Misty tells me, then, with a flick of her tail towards Elara, ‘this one will outshine you if you don’t work harder.’ She rubs against her leg and gets a pet from the elf in return.

  Misty leads the way, a few hundred yards through the woods and quickly across a road.

  ‘The kitten is in a small building close by,’ she tells me. ‘There are the last two meat-bags and a barker.’ Her tone is dismissive; she has little respect for the abilities of the remaining gang members.

  Hidden in a thicket on the other side of the road, a rather run-down shack comes into view. Smoke curls lazily from a dying campfire nearby, casting flickering shadows on the rough wooden walls. We observe the scene from our hiding spot in the shadows of the trees. Two bandits are outside: one leaning on a spear by the door, the other crouched near the fire, tossing twigs into the embers. Between them lies the dog, looking like a cross between an Ashfang and a Doberman. I quickly identify it as an ashound, a hulking beast of muscle and menace, its dark fur gleaming like polished obsidian in the moonlight. Its sharp ears twitch as it sniffs the air, and the faint glow of its amber eyes cuts through the dimness.

  ‘That’s the last of them,’ Misty purrs in my mind. ‘Two fools and their overgrown mutt. This should be simple enough—if you don’t botch it.’

  I glance at Elara, who is crouched beside me, her gaze locked on the scene. Her fingers curl around the grip of her bow. She looks ready—perhaps too ready.

  “You take the one by the fire. I’ll handle the door guard. Misty—”

  ‘I’ll deal with the ashound,’ Misty interrupts, her tail flicking impatiently. ‘It’ll chase me easily enough. The rest is up to you.’

  “Alright,” I say as I take my bow from my shoulder. “You left, me right?”

  Elara nods, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

  Misty is the first to act. She steps into the open, her sleek form catching the ashound’s attention instantly. The beast growls, its hackles rising as it lurches to its feet. With a low hiss, Misty darts back into the shadows, and the ashound bolts after her, snarling as its claws tear into the earth. The guards barely have time to react before Elara whispers. “On three—one… two—”

  “Three I say.”

  Two arrows fly straight and true. Mine takes the guard by the door in the chest, Elara’s, the other in the throat. Both collapse to the ground with muted thuds.

  The night falls silent again, save for the pained yelps that suddenly cut off as Misty deals with the dog.

  We quickly cross to the shack. Elara kicks her target from the embers before he catches fire. I motion for her to follow as I push open the door. The interior smells of sweat, damp wood, and decay. The first room is sparsely furnished—a table littered with empty bottles, a straw mattress in the corner, and a few scattered crates. One corner of the room catches my eye: a small chest with intricate carvings, half-hidden under a pile of tattered blankets. But there’s no time to investigate now. A secured door on the far side of the room draws our attention. It’s locked with a heavy padlock and reinforced with a metal hasp.

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  “This must be it,” I say.

  Elara steps forward, gripping the lock. “I can break it,” she says, her newfound strength evident in the way she tests its give.

  “No need,” I stop her, pulling out a small pick from my belt. It takes a moment of focused work, but the lock pops open with a satisfying click. The door swings inward, revealing Naomi. She’s slumped against a post, her hands tied and chains securing her to the wood. Her skin is pale, and her breathing is shallow. The air is thick with the acrid scent of listwort. They’ve dosed her heavily.

  “Elara, help me,” I move to Naomi’s side. Together, we untie her and gently lower her to the ground. Her head lolls to one side, and a faint groan escapes her lips. She’s alive but barely responsive.

  ‘The barker is dealt with.’ Misty’s voice lazily drifts into my mind. I find a key hanging on the wall and use it to unlock the chains binding Naomi.

  “She’s out of it,” Elara murmurs, brushing the girl’s hair back from her face. “But she’ll make it.”

  I lift Naomi into my arms, her weight a reminder of how fragile she is in this moment. “We need to move.” I pass her over to Elara, as I pull the small chest in the other room from under its covers. “Let’s get her back to the farm and make her comfortable so she can sleep off the sedative.”

  “What’s that you have there?” Elara asks as we head back towards Joel’s farm.

  “Not sure.” I shake it and it rattles invitingly. “But it was the only thing worth taking from there.”

  Elara glances at me, then down at the sleeping bundle she is carrying.

  “Apart from Naomi obviously,” I quickly add.

  The smell of smoke greets us long before we reach Joel and Mara’s farm. By the time we arrive, the barn is fully ablaze, the flames licking at the night sky. Joel stands near the house, his broad-shouldered frame silhouetted against the fiery glow. Mara hurries towards us, her apron flapping, eyes darting between me and Naomi cradled in Elara’s arms.

  “Is she…?” Mara’s voice trembles with concern as she peers at Naomi.

  “She’s fine,” Elara assures her, shifting Naomi’s weight to adjust her grip. “Just needs rest.”

  Mara reaches out and guides Elara inside. “Bring her in. The poor thing looks half-done in. I’ll get a blanket and some tea brewing.” Her tone is brisk, but the tension in her shoulders betrays her worry.

  Joel’s eyes meet mine. He nods once, his face a mask of grim resolve. “We’ve got work to do.” I glance at the yard. Bandit bodies lie sprawled in awkward heaps where they fell, and blood streaks the ground. The farm’s familiar warmth feels tainted, overshadowed by the violence that unfolded here. I take a steadying breath.

  “Let’s get to it, then,” I say, setting down the chest near the porch and rolling up my sleeves.

  Joel grabs a rake from where it leans against the side of the house, his hands steady despite the chaos. Together, we move from one corpse to the next, dragging them toward the barn. The blaze there provides an unsettling solution—the fire will soon consume the bodies.

  “This ain’t the kind of thing a man wants to do on his land,” Joel mutters as we heave a particularly heavy corpse onto the growing pile. “But I’ll not have these scum fouling my fields come morning.”

  I nod, the weight of his words settling over me. “They’ve no place here. Let the fire take them.”

  The heat from the barn is intense, searing our faces as we work. Sweat drips down my back, and my muscles ache from the effort, but there’s a grim satisfaction in each body removed from the yard. By the time we’re done, the area near the house looks less like a battlefield and more like a farmstead again.

  “That’ll do,” Joel says, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. His gaze drifts toward the barn, its structure creaking as flames consume it. “The barn was old anyway. Maybe it was time to replace it.”

  “Hard way to get it,” I reply, but there’s no bitterness in my tone. Just a shared understanding of what needs to be done.

  The sound of Mara’s voice carries from the house. She’s bustling about, issuing instructions to Elara in her no-nonsense way. The activity is oddly comforting. When Joel and I step inside, the comforting smells of tea and freshly baked bread fill the air. Elara has laid Naomi on a cot near the hearth, where the fire’s warmth can chase away the lingering chill. Mara tucks a blanket around her and sets a steaming mug on the table nearby. Mara glances at us and wrinkles her nose.

  “You two stink of sweat and… well, worse. Wash up before you sit down.”

  Joel chuckles, his first real laugh of the night. “Yes, ma’am.”

  We take turns at the pump outside, the cool water a welcome relief. By the time we return, Mara has set out a simple meal of bread, cheese, and cold cuts. It’s not much, but it feels like a feast after everything we’ve been through.

  “How’s Naomi?” I ask as I settle into a chair near the table.

  Elara looks up from where she’s sitting, a steaming mug cradled in her hands. “Sleeping soundly. The sedative will wear off by morning, and she’ll be fine.”

  Mara nods approvingly. “Good. Poor lass needs all the rest she can get. And you,” she says, fixing me with a pointed look, “you need to eat. You’ve done enough for one night.”

  I don’t argue. The food is simple but satisfying, each bite grounding me in the here and now. Joel joins us, his presence is solid and reassuring. The conversation turns to the repairs that will need to be done in the coming days—patching fences, clearing debris, and eventually rebuilding the barn.

  “We’ll help,” I offer, my words met with a grateful nod from Joel.

  The night wears on, the tension easing as exhaustion takes hold. Mara brings out a bottle of something strong, and we share a few quiet toasts to survival and the stubborn resilience of the farm. Elara slips away to check on Naomi, and Misty curls up near the hearth, her soft purring a gentle counterpoint to the crackle of the fire. Wren, who had appeared back at the farm an hour earlier, is asleep nearby.

  As the first hints of dawn lighten the horizon, Joel and Mara finally retreat to their room, leaving Elara and me to keep watch over Naomi. The house is quiet, the weight of the night’s events settling over us like a heavy quilt.

  “We did good tonight,” Elara says softly, her gaze fixed on the sleeping girl.

  I nod, my eyes heavy with sleep. “Yeah. We did.”

  Outside, the barn’s flames have died down, leaving only smouldering embers. The farm bears the scars of the battle, but it’s still standing.

  “We can help them here tomorrow to put a few bits back to rights,” I say. “But we need to carry on to Hybern as soon as we can.”

  Elara nods and yawns and snuggles into my side on the couch.

  “We have a lot to talk over as well,” she sleepily murmurs.

  We both are soon asleep. Tomorrow would come soon enough.