Trish paused in the last moment of the working. She took a breath, then tied it off. Immediately she felt the effort ripple through her. She bent over with a groan, hands on her knees as she struggled to get her breath back. She inhaled best she could then straightened to stand upright. She raised her arms overhead to open up her breathing. It took her an alarming half a minute to get it under control.

  She blew out a breath and dropped her arms with a swing, shaking them out. Her mana core throbbed painfully. Between this and the message to Chatter, and of course the fact that she was still recovering, it was no wonder her spirit was sore. She shouldn’t do any more today if she could.

  She swiped at her brow, shoving a loose curl of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead behind her ear as she critically appraised the shade she’d woven from pre-dawn shadows and raw mana to hang loosely between the trees, low to the ground. She reached out to run a hand over the edge and paused to tuck an errant dark thread in.

  Something bumped her boot. She look down. A paw reached out from under the shade with the chalkboard, gently tapping on her foot. She tilted her head to read it.

  “Art thou well?” it said.

  Trish knelt down next to the shade. She peered inside. The banshees lounged on top of each other in a haphazard pile of feathers and limbs. Fallen Leaves looked halfway to sleep. Moonless blinked at her with eyes screwed almost shut against the morning sun filtering through the trees.

  Trish wrote, “Well enough, thankee. I’ve only just recovered from illness. I assure thee, I am in every way still capable of conducting magicks such as these. Though I find myself concerned. Shouldst thou not take refuge in a better locale?”

  Moonless wrote, “Whyever for? Tis an excellent shade, to be sure.”

  “Yes, my shade will do much, but it is still like enough to fade under the noon sun. I wish that a tarp would suffice.”

  Moonless raised a claw in gentle reproach, running it along the roof of the shade. “Concern thyself not with the noon. We will repent shouldst it come to that. Already we repent for catching the dawn. And besides, dost know of a cave nearby to this place? Tis the only shelter we might use appropriately.”

  Trish wrote, “I do not. Very well. Hopefully thou art not discovered before I return, though I doubt very much anyone should. Thou art certain our quarry will not move during the day?”

  “If it hast found appropriate shelter, tis unlikely.”

  Trish made a face. “If and unlikely are not a certainty. But tis all we have. I take my leave. I shall return anon with my demon and the human men’tuch to confer with thee on our path together.”

  Moonless wrote, “We shall take our rest then. Walk well.”

  Trish made her way back into Galesvryg through dead reckoning, not trusting herself to cast a guidance after the morning’s exertions. She snapped her compass closed as she left the woods behind. She slipped it into her pocket with a sense of relief.

  She headed for Brody and Flip’s house, noting the emptiness of the town as she walked down a cobblestone street. She wondered if there was something going on she wasn’t hearing. Perhaps a gathering somewhere? An alarm of some kind? Had there been an attack last night and now there was a mob marching around the corner that she couldn’t hear? Or perhaps the town was always like this two hours after sunrise. Not that it had seemed so idle yesterday morning.

  She reached into her pocket for the acoube. She shook it awake then placed it flat on her palm, waiting the few seconds for it to calibrate the surrounding noise level. When it vibrated, she looked at the topmost face of the wooden cube. A series of numbers floated out of the depths to the surface. Nothing but normal ambience… if she were alone in the woods. She found it unsettling for a village. She shook the acoube again to power it down and put it back in her pocket, hastening her steps to the Reeve’s.

  She set one foot on the porch steps when the door opened and a blur of red fur hit her in the stomach. She lurched backwards with a sharp exhalation. A wolf!

  Chatter pulled back off her and up and into their humanoid form, anxiously towering over her by a hand and a half as gentle claws carded through her hair then ran down her arms and sides to look for injuries. Trish made a face but allowed the dramatic inspection.

  Flip stuck his head out of the house and waved. He said something but with Chatter occupied, Trish could only shrug. He gave a harried smile then vanished back into the house.

  When Chatter finally lowered their claws and stepped back, she signed, ‘Hello to you too.’

  Chatter’s mouth looked like they laughed shortly. Or possibly sighed. They sat to lounge on the porch steps. Their legs sprawled as they affected a disinterest belied by the line of tension running through them.

  They signed, ‘Don’t lecture me on manners. Do you have any idea what’s happened here?’

  Trish frowned, setting a foot on the step next to them, widening her stance as she leaned forward. ‘So something did happen. I thought so. What is it? And where is everyone?’

  Chatter leaned forward. ‘The banshee entered the wards last night.’

  She felt the blood drain from her face.

  Chatter signed, ‘Terrible wards!’

  Trish absently answered, ‘They’re just acoustic attenuation wards. They did their job, or the whole village would have known that Pol was killed by a banshee outside of the wards. And someone else may have died already.’

  She hesitated, resting her crossed forearms on the leg planted on the steps for a moment.

  Then she squared her shoulders, and having braced herself, signed, ‘How many died?’

  ‘No one.’

  Trish shifted her weight back in surprise. ‘Repeat?’

  Chatter signed in exaggeratedly articulated motions, ‘N O. O N E.’

  ‘You don’t have to yell.’

  Chatter rolled their five eyes. ‘I would if you could hear me. No one died. It was a near thing though. A group of teenagers snuck out to a shed in the woods to do teenager stuff. The banshee nearly broke the door down. They were saved by a Hunter. An ironic twist of fate.’

  Trish scowled, pushing off the step in agitation. ‘Dammit! More? Again? Here? I’m glad the children are well, but I have had enough of these Hunters encroaching.’

  ‘What do you mean, encroaching? I was unaware the guild was doing so.’

  Trish hesitated then signed, ‘Do not be angry.’

  Chatter leveled a stern look at her. ‘I reserve the right,’ they signed tightly.

  Trish signed, ‘I wasn’t sick.’

  Chatter tilted their head.

  Trish explained, ‘At the starting ceremony for the solstice at enclave, there were a pair of Hunters skulking around with runic equipment. They said they were taking measurements but whatever they were doing almost completely destabilized the ceremony. It snapped a chord. I managed to grab it as it went past, hold it down until it could be tied off again. But it strained my core and sapped some of my reservoir.’

  Chatter dropped their head into their lap.

  Without looking up, they signed, ‘If I’d known your core was injured, I’d have ensured you didn’t leave the Warren even for a walk to the gardens. Forget an assignment to the wilds.’

  They looked up again. ‘Why did you lie about such an egregious thing?’

  Trish made an emotive gesture for out-of-my-hands. ‘Enclave business is not for the outside world. You know that.’

  ‘I don’t see why you couldn’t have told me before. Surely they make exceptions for injuries.’

  ‘Perhaps in serious cases, but this is mild, I promise. I’d not have told you but that if you know the injury you ought to know the cause.’

  ‘Let me see, then,’ Chatter signed and held out their hand.

  Trish exhaled but placed her finger tips to theirs. She felt the icy pressure of their spirit pressing against her, prodding and testing. She winced at a rough poke.

  ‘Sorry,’ Chatter signed with one hand to their chest.

  They pulled back.

  ‘Satisfied?’ she asked.

  ‘No. We’ll keep an eye on it. And if it doesn’t get better…’

  She made a face. ‘Fine. Yes. Can we get back to business at hand?’

  ’I’d rather send you home direct.’

  ‘Chatterwell.’

  ’But I of course bow to my signatory’s whims,’ they signed in sarcastically tinged formal gestures.

  Trish primly signed, ‘Thank you. Now, my question is: why is the Hunter here?’

  ‘He said he was passing through.’

  Trish snorted. ‘To where? There’s nothing out here but the village and the wilds.’

  ‘And the banshees.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  Chatter said, ‘You said you found two men’tuchs, yes? Then there is an enclave not far from here. There is too much strangeness, too much coincidence. History repeats itself, patterns appear. You found Hunters in the most sacred space of the Selton enclave, a place nearly impossible to reach without guide? And now, a Hunter arrives unbidden with no true reason to be in this backwater where a banshee lurks with an undocumented enclave nearby.’

  Trish frowned. ‘I would dismiss your conspiracies most times but it almost seems reasonable now. Where is he?’

  ‘He’s taken the village hunting.’

  Trish eyebrows rose. ‘He’s what!’

  Chatter indicated the treeline. ‘The village volunteered to help hunt the banshee. He really didn’t have to convince them at all.’

  Trish felt the blood drain from her face. ‘The fools! Why didn’t Brody do something?’

  ‘Oh, he did.’

  Trish ran a hand over her hair. ‘What was it?’

  ‘He joined them.’

  Merry shifted the quiver on her back. The strap was a little large, but she hadn’t taken the time to adjust it.

  “Here,” Barry said gruffly.

  As they walked, he reached out and fidgeted with the strap. She held a branch over his head while he did so.

  “There.” He retreated.

  Merry tugged at the quiver experimentally.

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

  “That’s better. Thankee,” she said.

  “If ye’re goin’ to be dumb, ye might as well not eat rocks while ye do it.”

  Merry glanced up at the line of voluntary hunters trailing the Hunter as he led them through the woods. “S’not dumb. It’s important, this. We’re not going to let anyone else die. Bet mom an’ dad would be proud.”

  “Be sure an’ ask ‘em when ye see ‘em. Might be soon.”

  “Hey!”

  Barry savagely threw a stick at a tree off the path. “We don’t know anythin’ ‘bout him!”

  “Ceptin’ he saved the kids, right? An’ his guildship.”

  Barry said, “Sure, but why’s he here?”

  Merry scowled. “Doesn’t matter, does it? Why’re ye so ‘gainst him, Barry? Wasn’t it a Hunter what helped us last time?”

  “Well sure, but this feels a lot more like what happened afore the real Hunter came.”

  “Which was?”

  “Stupid.”

  Brody followed the Hunter, Crex, closely.

  “This might go faster if I could help you find your way,” Brody commented.

  Crex glanced over his shoulder and beamed a wide smile. “Nah need, sheriff, I’m awright up here.”

  Crex easily stepped over a log. Brody scrambled up and over it.

  Brody brushed some bark off his pants. “If you’re sure.”

  “Ya know, Reeve, part of being a good leader is knowing when you’re beat.”

  “What makes you think I’m beat?”

  Crex snorted. “Ya’re here, right?”

  Brody was quiet a moment before changing tack. “So how did you come to find that banshee at that cabin anyway?”

  Crex said, “Oh, well, I got this stone, see? Tells me when critters are nearby and suchlike.”

  He pulled it out and indicated the glowing blue arrow on it. “See? I was just out a-walking-“

  “At night?” Brody challenged. “In woods you don’t know well?”

  Crex laughed. “Reeve, I’m fully capable of navigating any wood, well known or not.”

  Brody instinctively glanced down at the man’s boots. They were appropriate for woodcraft… but they were new. Just broken in. The Warden’s had been worn down. He didn’t like it.

  Brody pressed, “And what business brings you out this way, such that you happened to be passing by?”

  “Oh, just some scouting work,” Crex answered vaguely.

  “Logging? Mining?”

  Crex grinned, like Brody said something funny. “Aye, sure, mining. Of a sort.”

  “And of course you’ve hunted banshees before?”

  “Nah.”

  “What?”

  ”How hard can it be? Ya block yar ears up and all’s well. A person’s got to start somewhere.”

  Brody took two quick strides. He grabbed Crex’s arm tight.

  He hissed, “You mean to say that you’ve no experience hunting banshees and you see nothing wrong leading a band of untrained people to hunt one? You’re going to kill them!”

  “I got a plan,” Crex said, tugging his arm free. “And everyone knows that this is risky, but this is important.”

  “Important! Surely their lives should be paramount! You’re not being paid for this if any of them die, I swear,” Brody spat. “That will be the price of your negligence. That and your heavy conscience, should you have one.”

  “I find myself unconcerned with yar money, Reeve. And no offense offered, but why’d ya come, if ya find ma leadership so lacking?”

  “To make sure someone’s here to tell them they don’t have to die.”

  Crex put his hand on Brody’s shoulder. “Look, friend. Ya can’t tell anyone how to live. Ya can’t even tell them how to die. Yar trauma cannot inform how ya react to the situations of others.”

  Brody slapped off his hand and glared. “You don’t know anything.”

  Crex shrugged.

  Brody was silent a moment then said. “At least share the wax.”

  “Would ifn I could, but I can’t. Only got the one pair, special made like for ma ears. And since I’ve the experience-“

  “Which you don’t.”

  “-the guildship, then, I’m to deal with the critter direct, so I should have ear protection.”

  “We should have waited for the weirden,” Brody muttered.

  “But weren’t they useless last time? Isn’t it nice that I was passing through just in time?”

  Brody grimaced. “Sure. Real nice.”

  Crex glanced at the stone in his hand. “Huh. Looks like it caught a hint of something. This way!”

  Brody’s lips thinned. He had to say something now. “Crex!”

  “What now, Reeve?”

  Brody drew close and said lowly, “There are three banshees out here. Two of them are sheriffs.”

  Crex looked at him oddly then grinned. “Huh. Sounds like triple the fun.”

  Brody stared at him. “Didn’t you hear me? There are two banshee sheriffs out there. Unless you can identify them, we shouldn’t be going anywhere near a banshee with intent to kill right now, or there’ll be hell to pay and not on a local scale.”

  Crex snorted dismissively. “Critters are critters, Brody boy. They all kill.”

  Brody floundered, thinking about the demon so worried about its master it sat in a chimney all night. “Regardless, the consequences of murdering an innocent weird, and a weird of some authority in its community-“

  Crex fully ignored him to turn and shout at the rag tag volunteer party, “We’ve got the scent now, gang! We’re off!”

  Brody stared at him, speechless. The villagers gave a sort of winded cheer and half-heartedly waved their weapons, although as Brody glanced at them, he saw Merry enthusiastically pull out an arrow to wave in the air that was immediately confiscated by her brother.

  At least someone was looking out for the kid, Brody thought absently. They set off at a brisk pace before he could even try and say something else. He was going to have his hands full trying to stop what might be a precursor to another Eld War.