Lowen and Jenifer stood back as the Scrat gathered around the rapidly congealing boar carcass. The blood splattered across the rocks was a dank brown now, the exposed organs thick with flies. Kerra had wanted to see the thing with her own eyes and she’d brought Talwyn with her. They were joined by two Scrat elders—hook-nosed Nonnie with her quick, crow-black eyes and Cade, coaxed from his fishing duties at the river. Lowen and Jenifer exchanged a look as their mother bent to inspect the mangled creature.

  “You found a claw embedded in the flesh?” she said, straightening to look at Jenifer.

  “Yes; I have it here.”

  Jenifer pulled the grisly object from her pocket, holding it out long enough for the group to register its monstrous size before Kerra snatched it from her hand.

  “I do not like what this implies.”

  “I’ve never seen such a beast in this forest,” Cade said. “If it wasn’t for that claw, I’d say the only creature able to do this with its bare hands was a satyr.”

  Lowen shifted where she stood.

  “This cannot possibly be the work of a satyr,” Nonnie argued. “As you said, Cade, they don’t have claws like this.”

  “Still,” Cade continued, scratching the underside of his stubbly chin, “the way that pig’s been cracked open, it could’ve been a satyr’s hoof what did it. The claw could have come from one of their animals. We know they breed cathclaws up there, beyond the Weep. Perhaps they killed this pig to eat, though I don’t see no sign of a fire being made ready. Perhaps they would have eaten it raw. Whoever the culprit is, they were obviously interrupted. The boar’s rib cage has been ripped apart but the flesh hasn’t been touched; Jenifer and Lowen must have scared the brute off.”

  Cade’s words left a bitter, acidic tang in the back of Lowen’s throat but she could not show her indignation. She looked away, her lips pressed tightly together.

  “That’s enough of this talk,” Kerra said. “We have no real evidence of any satyr, just an animal’s claw. I say we bury this thing before it draws more predators close to the village and keep a wary eye open for the next few days.” She turned to her Second. “Talwyn, I will leave it to you to organise some of the younger Scrat and form a border patrol. Jenifer, will your string-sisters join?”

  “Of course,” Jenifer said.

  With the boar buried where they had found it, its drying blood on the rocky outcrop serving as both rough-hewn headstone and gruesome inscription, the group made their way back to Kree. Jenifer and Lowen lagged behind, silently digesting all they had seen and heard.

  “That was not the work of the satyr,” Lowen said under her breath.

  “How can you be sure?” Jenifer whispered back. “You have seen the beasts with your own eyes, you’ve guessed at their strength. They could easily have done a thing like this.”

  “But why would they? That’s the question no one seems to be asking. If they don’t start asking it soon, this could very well be the spark that reignites hostilities between our peoples. You are set on becoming the next Chieftain. Surely you can see the foolishness in throwing about these baseless accusations?”

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  Jenifer glanced at her sister. She seemed impressed. “You make very good points, Lowen. Points I had not actually considered. Are you sure it is not you who is set on becoming our next Chieftain?”

  Her tone was light but a dark flash in her eyes made Lowen think a secret part of Jenifer might fear such a challenge.

  “I’m quite sure,” she replied.

  “I would not worry prematurely,” Jenifer said. They quickened their stride, attempting to catch up with their mother and the rest of the group. “It was only Cade who suggested the satyr could have killed the boar. Nonnie didn’t believe a word of it.”

  “That one will disagree with Cade until her dying breath. They’ve been sniping at each other for years, ever since Nonnie accused Cade of trampling her precious night-blooming lilies.”

  They reached the village centre and paused before the Oak Heart. Its high, curving branches, still heavy with pale orange blossom, were lifted to the sky as though in greeting. Kerra dismissed Talwyn and the elders before addressing her daughters.

  “I know your excursion ended with a rather gory discovery, but have you returned as friends?” she asked them.

  The sisters looked at each other, an understanding passing between them. They would not trouble their mother with the tale of their narrow escape from the keening wraiths. Lowen did not wish to worry her and Jenifer would have been embarrassed to admit that even with all her years of experience tracking and hunting in the wilds of Nymed, the hags had nearly caught her.

  “Your manipulations were successful, Mother,” Jenifer said. “We have indeed returned as friends.”

  “That is good, yet I see you brought back no spoils for our supper table.”

  “Lowen is hardly nimble-footed,” Jenifer said quickly. “She would make an excellent bird-scarer, but a successful hunt requires more finesse.”

  Kerra turned her attention to Lowen. “You will be pleased to hear your grandmother has grown stronger. She has been asking for you; perhaps you could visit with her?”

  Lowen brightened immediately. “I will go now.”

  ***

  When she pulled aside the curtain of feathers fluttering at Koth Conwen’s doorway, the first thing that struck her was the smell. The air was thick with the spicy tang of crushed silkflower blooms and red mint leaves—used in what Lowen was sure had been many restorative herbal baths. They seemed to have worked because Grandmother was sitting up in her chair, alert and rosy-cheeked, a blanket still pulled across her knees. Lowen inched further into the room, searching Conwen’s face for any lingering traces of the terrible bitterblue that had turned her eyes to blank, inky wells. There were none. Her eyes were bright and clear, her mouth its usual pale pink.

  “Lowen, my child, I was beginning to think you were lost in the Deep Forest.”

  She beckoned her closer and Lowen complied, reaching for her softly lined hands and holding them gingerly in her own.

  “I am so pleased to see you looking well, Grandmother. Let me make you some tea.”

  “No. No tea.” Koth Conwen kept a surprisingly firm grip on Lowen’s hands. “Kerra assigned young Rosen to watch over me and all that girl has done is make me tea. I can’t stomach another drop of it. I do thirst, however, for something a bit stronger.” She glanced at a dusty crate beneath the table.

  Lowen bent to pull the crate out into the light, her nose wrinkling when she saw it was full of bottles. “Blackberry mead? Should you be drinking this?”

  “Of course, I should. It is the very best kind of medicine.”

  Lowen set a clay cup on the table and filled it nearly to the brim with the thick, swirling liquid. Koth Conwen did not believe in half measures.

  “To your continued health, Grandmother,” she said, placing the cup in her hands.

  The old woman grinned at her before taking a deep drink. “That’s better. Now, come sit with me and tell me how it goes for you.”

  “Jenifer and I found a boar ripped apart on the outskirts of the village.” Lowen sank into the rocking chair opposite her grandmother’s. “Jenifer pulled a claw from it, as long as my hand and hard as Cappal rock.”

  “That is concerning.”