Dedicated Elaine shaded her eyes against the late morning sun and looked up at the Reeve’s house. She sniffed. Something smelled delicious and cinnamony. Hm. Definitely visiting time. She stumped up the stairs and knocked on the front door screen, peering through into the house.

  “Flip? Can I come in?”

  Flip called, “Yes! Please!”

  She pulled open the door and entered. She wasn’t too happy about the door not being locked. She looked around with keen eyes before wandering into the kitchen. She raised her eyebrows. It was sweltering in the kitchen even with the windows and doors open and the fans going. The table had three bowls of raw dough and a cooling rack with a mound of cookies. A baking sheet sat on top of the stove with another batch of raw cookies. Elaine glanced at the oven. Blazing hot.

  “‘Lo, Flip,” she said. “What’s happenin’ here?”

  Flip stood at the sink, washing dishes. “I uh. Thought I would make them something to eat. For when they come back. Um. Have a cookie. Can I interest you in some konade? I just made it fresh this morning.”

  She took a cookie and sat down. “Sure. But ye gotta lock yer doors and winders, kid.”

  Flip dried his hands. “It’s too hot for that, Dedicated.”

  “Better hot than cold an’ dead.”

  Flip sighed. “Fine.”

  He grabbed a pitcher from the cooler and poured her a cup of cold red juice. She sipped at it while he went to shut and lock all the doors and windows.

  Elaine gave him a smile when he returned. “Very good, Flip.”

  He shot her a look.

  She held up the cup. “Ye got this receipt down well.”

  Flip nodded, turning back to the dishes. “Yes, thank you. I found it in one of Mama’s books, rest her soul.”

  Elaine took a bite of her cookie. “She’d like that. She did think of ye as a son at the end.”

  Flip hummed noncommittally. “Brody thought she’d always loved me, so maybe be careful with that sentiment, hm?”

  Elaine cleared her throat. “Anyways. Do ye reckon I could speak with the weirden?”

  Flip shook his head. “She’s left. And Chatter. Why?”

  Elaine evaluated him. “Well, I jest received a most disturbin’ communication from Selton.”

  “Oh?”

  “Rill called up.”

  Flip tensed, turning around with the dish towel in hand. “What’s he done this time?”

  “Oh nothin’ much. Only he’s figured out there’s a ream o’ hunters comin’ to Galesvryg on accounts o’ an advertisement printed in The Wings. He was wonderin’ why ye printed in The Wings instead o’ the family paper! So I tol’ him that ye made no such arrangement. An’ then he wanted to know what was goin’ on, so I tol’ him, an’ anyways he’s on his way home. Is that cinnamon cake I smell?”

  Flip dropped the towel. “He’s what!”

  Trish and Chatter walked through the woods, pausing now and then so Trish could check her compass. After brief discussion, they’d agreed to find the men’tuchs to prevent any misunderstandings with the hunting party. Trish was thinking as they walked.

  During a break, Trish signed, ‘I’ve been considering why I sent you away.’

  Chatter signed, ‘And what have you determined?’

  Trish sighed. ‘First, that it was stupid.’

  ‘Well put.’

  ‘And that I abused my contractual position of authority to shut you down.’

  Chatter signed, ‘So you did.’

  ‘I’m sorry for being stupid. I should have listened to your concerns. I’m fortunate I’m not dead. I should never have dismissed your concerns so blithely. I swear on the ink, I’ll never do that again. I trust you and your experience.’

  Chatter’s fur rose on their chest. They smoothed it down self-consciously. ‘Thanks.’

  Trish tilted her head. ‘You’re embarrassed?’

  They shrugged. ‘It’s been some hundred years since I’ve been so trusted. I’m… touched.’

  Trish shook her head, amused.

  ‘And proud.’

  ‘When are you not?’ Trish signed with a grin.

  Chatter rolled their eyes. ‘I am proud of you, today. I know it took much of you to admit your fault. Especially because you chose out of pride.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say it was pride-‘

  Chatter snorted. ‘Trish, my Warden, you think to lie to me about your pride? When this is your first solo charge, given to you by your esteemed mentor of many years whose opinion means much to you?’

  Trish passed a hand over the back of her neck. ‘I suppose I am transparent to you in such matters. I’m sorry I let it get the better of my judgement. Please, would you help me control it?’

  Chatter signed, smugly, ‘Why do you think I’ve been so reassuring of your abilities these last few days?’

  She signed teasingly, ‘So that’s why you’ve been so kind!’

  Chatter spread their hands. ‘Kind? I? Never.’

  They continued on their way.

  Fallen Leaves found sleep difficult to come by, particularly when the human’s weft came a bit undone. She considered the shape of the sunbeam piercing through the shade. Twas a pretty thing, though it wouldst send her spiraling towards insanity. She stretched out her paw and carefully curled her fingers around the beam as though to grasp it.

  “Wouldst thou tempt the owl as moles do?” Moonless asked sleepily.

  Fallen Leaves felt the feathers on her neck rise in embarrassment. She pulled back from the sunbeam. “No mole am I.”

  “Then why holdest thou the sun, apprentice? Dost desire blindness like the moles? Or perhaps yearnest thou for a swift and dizzying ascent to the void as though on owl wing.”

  “I wondered what it felt like. The sun. Dangerous, I know, and yet…”

  Moonless said, “I drank sun madness once.”

  “How did that come to pass?”

  “In truth, twas necessity. I fled from my final end,” Moonless replied gently.

  Fallen Leaves said, “I wouldst hear, if thou wouldst tell.”

  “Naught to tell. Thou knowest me and thou knowest history, so thou knowest all.”

  Fallen Leaves was silent a moment, then said, “I hope I do not meet death soon.”

  Moonless said, “Yet thou must. Thou art near full grown and thou canst weep til thou hast done so.”

  “I have other weapons, teacher.”

  “Weeping is no weapon,” Moonless said severely.

  “No weapon, yet it slaughters they who hear?”

  “Once death is known, it cannot be unknown. Thus care must be taken to protect all.”

  Fallen Leaves said, “But all know of death, surely.”

  She raked up detritus from the ground beneath them and let the dead leaves fall through her fingers, inhaling the musty damp scent of the soil beneath. “Even this, death.”

  “Even this, life,” Moonless replied, pointing to a small black beetle on its back, legs wiggling and disturbed by the sudden destruction of its terrain.

  Fallen Leaves watched the beetle as it righted itself. “The cycle unbroken.”

  “All in cycle know of death. But only we, beyond cycle, beyond time, beyond stars, know death.”

  Fallen Leaves said, “And yet-“

  Something brushed foliage in the distance.

  Fallen Leaves stiffened and turned her head sharply. “Hearest thou footsteps?”

  “Yes. But they are not our colleague,” Moonless said, feathers shifting uneasily. “We must set aside thine education of theological underpinnings, apprentice. We know not what stalks the day.”

  Alsom crept closer to the weird black shade under the trees, ax in hand and ready to swing. It seemed to be some sort of tarp, but he could practically feel some sense of shifting from it. Or maybe, from under it. Tensing, he squatted down to look inside… and froze at the sight of two banshees staring at him with unblinking luminous eyes.

  His mouth went dry as one reached out for a- a chalkboard? It laid the board on the forest floor then flicked it to him with a lazy movement of one of its long, disemboweling claws.

  He stared at the claw for a moment, then at the banshees. When neither moved, eerily still as stone, he took a deep breath. He removed a hand from his ax, hefting it to get it ready to throw if needed. He kept his eyes fixed on the banshees as he reached down for the chalkboard. He brought it up level with his face. He briefly glanced at it, just a heartbeat! Then looked back at it again in surprise.

  It read, “They won’t hurt you. If you erase this, I will find you and I will fine you. Warden Trish.”

  He flipped it over. It was marked with the Selton Warden seal.

  “Huh.”

  He sat down and looked at the banshees. “I don’t suppose ye know where my kid is?”

  One of them reached out a claw.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  He tentatively reached out, his hand shaking a little as he placed the board in the weird’s claws. The three of them pondered each other for a while.

  Alsom said, “I. Uh. I have some jerky if ye want some…? Ye look mebbe a little hungry. Which isn’t exactly a great look ‘round here fer ye, jest so’s ye know.”

  Trish stopped as Chatter flung an arm in front of her. She looked up at them. Their ears twitched and swiveled as they listened. Then they relaxed.

  They signed, ‘I think your men’tuchs have a visitor.’

  Trish frowned. ‘What? Who? How?’

  Chatter grinned. ‘Want some jerky?’

  They walked another minute or so before Trish spied the black weft through the trees. She flicked off a swear with her fingers when she noticed a stray sunbeam boring into it. She was so focused on it she almost fell over the man crouched before it, but Chatter caught her arm, steadying her.

  ‘Alsom!’ she signed.

  Alsom scrambled to his feet and sketched a bow. Chatter began interpreting.

  Alsom said, “Ah, Warden! Figured I’d keep yer friends company ‘til ye returned. Jerky?”

  Trish’s stomach growled. The breakfast sandwich Flip had quickly smashed together was not enough. ‘Yes, please, thank you.’

  She sat down and peered into the weft. The banshees blinked at her, the student with a mouthful of jerky. Alsom and Chatter sat down with her, each taking mouthfuls of jerky. It occurred to her that it was the strangest brunch she’d ever had. She had a moment of hysterical amusement that she had to fight off so she wouldn’t giggle. Chatter nudged her with a shoulder and gestured to the men’tuchs.

  She lay her jerky down to sign, ‘Right. Big one is the teacher, Moonless. The small one is the student, Fallen Leaves.’

  She held out a hand to the banshees. Moonless slid the chalkboard to her, and she introduced Alsom and Chatter.

  With introductions finished, she raised the jerky to her mouth.

  Alsom said, “Beggin’ yer pardon, Warden, but why are ye protectin’ two banshees?”

  Trish repressed a sigh but lowered her jerky again to explain.

  Alsom looked worried. “I see. An’ do ye happen to know if my daughter is well?”

  Trish’s head snapped up. ‘Calyn? Is she missing?’

  Alsom said, “No, but Missy wasn’t in her bed this morn when I rose an’… well, I figured she would have no reason to go out given it’s so dark an’ I didn’t want to worry her, ‘specially since ye were comin’ to see what’s what an’ all.”

  Chatter said, “Your daughter is well. Actually, a Hunter saved her himself.”

  Alsom sagged in relief.

  Trish signed, ‘Tell him. I must discuss our path forward with the men’tuchs.’

  After her jerky.

  Trish explained to the men’tuchs about the Hunter, the Selton enclave, and the hunting party.

  She finished, writing, “Tis something strange about all this. Chatter suspects the Hunter is not here by accident. But thou said thou hadst not seen humans?”

  Fallen Leaves glanced up at Moonless.

  Moonless wrote, “The quarry did not escape on its own.”

  Trish frowned. “What dost thou mean?”

  “Only that on solstice height, when all were intoxicated with the shortest night, the rune on its enclosure was chipped away.”

  Trish shifted. “Dost know by who?”

  Moonless gave a feather shiver of a shrug. “None could tell. Twas unnerving. Not a scent, not a footprint, not a soul. Only the beast’s. Twas why we were delayed. The committee argued on whether twas a sign or ill omen.”

  Trish sat back on her heels. “Sounds like some magic at work.”

  “I wouldst not suggest such a thing, of course. The enclave is impenetrable. Such I must say.”

  Trish eyed Moonless. “Such thou must say. Men’tuch that thou art. But tell me, men’tuch. Thinkest thou that magic might conceal from thy senses?”

  Moonless wrote, “Such a thing is possible, yes.”

  Trish hesitated then wrote, “Might banshee magick be capable?”

  “No.”

  Trish stared at Moonless, a chill running down her spine. The Hunter. It must be. Why else would he come here? But then why set the banshee free? Why impose his presence as though to save the village?

  She wrote, “Thinkest thou it may be the Hunter?”

  Moonless wrote, “I have no conclusions I can present at this time.”

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  Chatter nudged her with a soft footpaw. She looked at them.

  They signed, ‘Well?’

  Trish signed an explanation and asked, ‘Do you think it the Hunter?’

  Chatter tilted their head. ‘I think I see too many coincidences.’

  ‘What do you suggest we do? That monster is out hunting for any banshee. I do not think he will discriminate. I should not like to leave them alone. If they die-‘

  ‘You’re right. Some of the villagers might decide to take off on their own. And Alsom’s not very persuasive. We have to avoid that possibility. But we also have to pursue the banshee and the Hunter-‘

  Chatter paused.

  Trish signed, hesitantly, ‘Are you... suggesting we take two parties?’

  Paklak sat on the train’s windowsill and watched Selton give way to the countryside. She rested her forehead against the window and sighed.

  “Yes, Pak?” Rill asked.

  Pak glanced up at his reflection in the window. He did not look up from his book.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” she muttered.

  Rill looked at the window to the rest of the train. He watched as a group of hunters walked past, geared up and looking ready for trouble.

  He said, “You’re right. Getting to the village before the hunters is going to be tough. And I might be fine but they might decide that you aren’t too welcome on this particular pilgrimage, seeing as how they aren’t too inclined to weird folk.”

  “That’s not-“

  “How would you feel about hiding in my bag? I could tell everyone you’re a cat.”

  He looked at Pak expectantly.

  She glared at his reflection. “I meant I wouldn’t have had so much scrambled egg if I’d known we’d be taking the train. My stomach rebels.”

  Rill looked abashed. “Oh. Quite.” He patted at his pockets. “Um. Can I offer you a mint?”

  “A bag you like would be better,” Pak muttered.