I pull some rope from my pack and hoist him up to let him bleed before I move on to the next one. Torsten watches, an unreadable expression on his face. He doesn’t reek of fear but of uncertainty. He’s not sure what to make of me. I drag over and hoist the second one before heading back toward the third. Wolves have appeared. These wolves are bigger than the ones I know, but they hunt similarly. They try to circle me and chase me away from my kill. The first wolf lunges from the side, snapping at me.

  A swipe of my claws leaves him bleeding in the dirt. The others are more cautious now. Another wolf circles behind me, but I kick out with my claws, scoring him deeply. He limps away and flops down. He’s badly wounded. The remaining four hesitate. I growl deeply in my chest, and they back away. I move toward the last of my kills, and their leader tries to block me. I punch him hard, forcing his head into the ground, and kick him out of my way. The last three melt back into the trees.

  I grab the third one and drag it toward Torsten. I use the rope to haul it into place and go back for the wolves. The dead one I skin and take his teeth. The scavengers will handle the rest. That’s the way of nature. Nothing is ever truly wasted. I heal the wounded one and send him on his way. The pack leader is struggling to stand. I approach him carefully. He’s wary of me, and rightly so, but I mean him no harm. He was doing what wolves do. I reach out and heal him. He watches me for a long moment, head tilted, before he, too, disappears back into the forest.

  Torsten has built a fire. The heat dulls some of the crispness of the mountain air. With his help, I dress one of the beasts. I find a flat rock to cook on and wash it in a small creek. I shave off some thin slices, and we cook them. We eat in silence, with Torsten observing me.

  Finally, he speaks. “You hunt like a snowcat or something.”

  I nod. “Not many humans get to hunt with a Fey. It’s a primal thing for us. Fundamentally, we see ourselves as part of nature and not something pitted against it.”

  What I don’t tell Torsten is that if I were hungry enough, I’d have buried my face in the stonehorn’s innards, devouring them like a much less civilized predator.

  I stare into the fire for a moment. “We don’t use weapons when we hunt. We use what we were born with. We consider weapons to be an unfair advantage. It’s part of our culture.”

  “It is unusual to watch,” Torsten says after a long silence, “Why did you let the wolves go?”

  “We’re predators ourselves.”

  Torsten gives me an odd look, so I explain. “They were simply doing what wolves do. No Fey has walked these lands in millennia. I am outside their experience. It was unfair to expect them to remember. Now, they will know what Fey are again.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Torsten asks.

  “I suppose that humans have forgotten.” I wave a hand at the forest. “All of this, Centis, Vupis, Codegor was all once Fey territory.”

  Torsten looks shocked, “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “It was long before the first human kingdoms rose. Something happened, and we turned on each other. Our numbers dwindled to the edge of extinction. We’re not sure what, exactly. All we know is that Fey warred with each other. The records from that time are sketchy, at best. We lost a lot of territory simply because we no longer had the numbers to hold it. A few of the Fey kingdoms survived, but most consolidated into Hloir? Aralli?. That’s the Fey court that Ellisar rules over.”

  I begin to explain Fey politics to Torsten. “There are still a handful of Fey courts that are independent of Hloir? Aralli?, but most are allied in some form or fashion. It usually happens through marriages. Members of the other courts are less likely to be closely related to us than our own. It's often easier to find a potential spouse among those courts. We often exchange members when someone’s searching for a spouse.”

  “Why not use contracts?” Torsten asks, “That’s really common here.”

  “We live long lives. Contracts are not a reasonable basis for a life partnership. They’re only barely passable for a business partnership. Either you get on with someone and trust them, or you don’t,” I reply.

  “Do you get on with Kenric?” Torsten asks.

  “I do. From the moment that we met, we seem to understand each other implicitly. I don’t think I could have done better if I’d placed an order.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “And do you trust him?” Torsten asks.

  I smirk. “Absolutely.”

  “What do you plan to do about the dukes?” Torsten asks.

  While we wait for Kenric to find us, I start to outline my plans for Torsten. “If I’ve removed Oskar from the board, I can focus on the dukes. I need to pit them against each other, but not so much that they become traitors to Centis or ignite a civil war. If I haven’t removed Oskar, it gets a bit more complicated, but I can handle Oskar somehow.”

  Torsten laughs, “I heard about how you managed him from Ulrick. That will either put him off you completely or he’ll become obsessed with you.”

  I grimace at the thought of an obsessed Oskar. “Eugh! Don’t even speak that idea into existence. As for the dukes, I’ve learned enough of Nelis and Basten that I think I can get them to turn on each other. A few forged documents and rumors should be more than enough. They’ve no great love for each other. I simply need to push on the wedge that’s already there. The trick will be pitting Nelis and Basten against Aart and each other. Ideally, it would be the opposite of a love triangle with the three of them."

  “Hmm… Keep them busy with each other,” Torsten nods. "Not a bad plan."

  I grin. "I know that Nelis and Basten have been running a gambling operation. It shouldn’t be hard to make it look like they’re both skimming profits from it. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that’s the truth. If they no longer trust each other, they’d both want to ally with the last unaligned duke.”

  “Aart Lindeman,” Torsten nods, “He’s always been standoffish and unwilling to go along with anyone else’s schemes.”

  “So I’ve gathered. Unfortunately, he’s also one of the ones hunting me,” I grimace. "I haven’t wanted to poke around in his business too much because I don’t want him to think I’m interested in him. Don’t mistake me. I am, just not in the way he’d like me to be. I’d rather run him through a meat grinder." Torsten snorts, but I shrug, “I’m told pigs make the best sausage."

  Torsten laughs and nods. "I wonder if you could arrange to have him served at one of Oskar’s banquets." Hmm... that’s an idea I hadn’t considered… that could work.

  I continue to explain my plan. “What I’d like to do is get the three of them to all hate each other. Aart has wanted to join their gambling for a while. I plan to make Basten think Nelis and Aart are going to cut him out. Then I must make Nelis believe that Aart has switched sides and is going to exclude him while keeping Basten. Finally, I will have Aart plan to cut both of them out. That should be enough to make all three of them hate each other enough to keep them busy.”

  “That’s a lot of distrust to sow,” Torsten replies.

  “It is, but if I can keep them focused on each other, they won’t have much time left for me. All I have to do is buy enough time for us to be released so we can prepare for what I’m sure is coming. May I give you some advice?” I ask.

  Torsten nods.

  “Start stockpiling weapons, food, and medicine. Reinforce all your defenses. Prepare for an invasion followed by a famine.”

  Torsten looks at me. “You know something, don’t you?”

  “I’m not entirely sure about that. I haven’t seen any official plans, if that’s what you’re asking. I don't know who will invade, but I’d bet my boots on it happening,” I reply.

  "This is some game Oskar’s playing with your king. Isn’t it?” Torsten asks.

  I nod. "I’ve only heard about it second or third hand, but yes. If that’s the game Oskar is trying to play, I know how our kings handle that. It won’t be pretty. If you can send people away, so much the better,” I explain.

  "How long?" Torsten asks.

  I shrug. “Spring would be the earliest, but more likely, not until summer, when the winds and tides shift. That’s assuming it's this year. It might not be this year. I’m almost certain it won’t be. I hope we get a year or two to prepare for it. The kinds of games Fey kings play aren’t usually immediate. We live long lives. Time doesn’t have the same limits for us. Our plans usually take longer to come to fruition. We tend to play lower-risk, longer games than humans.”

  “Why tell me this?” Torsten asks.

  “Kenric seems to care for all of you. He’d be gutted if anything happened to you. We’re out here in the woods, just the two of us. No one else is around. It’s likely the only chance I have to say something like this to you. I can’t say much more without risking you being caught up in whatever Ellisar is planning, but I can try to warn you to be prepared for it.”

  “This is why you’re in such a rush to be released from court,” Torsten says. It’s not a question, it’s a statement. I nod, confirming his suspicion.

  “Our dukes are fools,” Torsten replies.

  I nod and hold up a finger, stopping him. I can hear someone yelling in the distance. “Build up the fire and wait here.”

  I launch myself into the gathering darkness. I pull my visor down and lean into my speed. I am running toward the voices when I hear the roar of a bear. I curse under my breath and run faster. I can see torches between the trees now. I see the bear. It’s standing on its hind legs and roaring at them. I launch myself at it.

  I charge into it from behind, staggering it toward them. I climb up the bear’s back like a tree, using my claws to their fullest. I want to inflict maximum pain and damage. This bear needs to be focused on me, not on them. I’m making twenty punctures with each movement, along with a few extra rakes with my feet when I can. The bear roars in pain, confused about where this is coming from. I can already smell the blood as it begins trying to shake me off. But I won’t come off. I’m dug in worse than any tick.

  The bear flails, trying to dislodge me, and continues bellowing. The men are yelling, and I finally reach the bear’s head just as it drops to all fours. I have my teeth sunk into its neck, but it’s fat, nearly ready for winter. I’m having to chew through all that to reach its spine. I manage to shove myself forward and sink one set of claws into its throat. Once again, all that fat is a hindrance, but I finally hit something vital. The bear staggers, fighting to stay on its feet, but it’s losing too much blood.

  Are there bears where you live? If so, what kind? Let me know in the comments...