Shake stomps off toward the rest of her tribe; Cloud holds us back, but I can perfectly follow what’s happening. The large woman runs over to a man who dwarfs her with his lower half alone, the dark hair of his horse half gleaming with a sheen I recognize from a well-cared for mount. Once more, I wrestle with impatience, anticipating a long conversation as the powers that be debate the problem.

  Hah! I still don’t understand the Temple I guess, because there is no conversation. Shake says that she needs to check on the Ranch and she wants a few extra people to help her do it. The man bellows and a group of six, two on two legs, the others on four, gather around them. Shake repeats her desire to raid the Ranch and it's met with excited hollers. They briefly disperse to retrieve weapons before making their way to us at the edge of the gathering.

  I look at the horse-people and then at our distinct lack of transportation. I can’t. That would be insulting, wouldn’t it? I’d be insulted if someone thought they could ride me like…er. Eh-hem.

  “So…should we double back for my carriage?”

  Shake’s smile says she knows exactly what I am thinking. “No need. The bonded will carry us. Sway? Would you like to carry our sisters?”

  A horse-woman, her bottom half a soft butter, her upper half a deep tan, grins at me. Her upper half is soft but bulky, the kind of build holding a deceptive strength. Her grin is wide and lascivious, which provokes a weird tangle of emotions. “You spoil me, little horn.”

  Anyone calling Shake a little anything is laughable, but I suppose the woman has reason. I awkwardly approach, followed by a similarly uncomfortable Alana. I’m grappling with how to approach literally mounting the woman when she takes the lead, folding her legs underneath her. “Climb on, cuties,” she says with the most obvious leer I’ve ever seen.

  Alana steps forward as I find myself shuffling while trying to come to terms with the strange situation, tackling it from a practical standpoint. “Should the heaviest be in the front or back?”

  “Back. I am already heavy in the front, hm?” She chuckles as both our eyes go to her chest.

  Face burning, Alana makes her move; she has to jump but smoothly swings a leg over the woman’s back. With both watching me expectantly, I push aside my discomfort and do the same.

  “Sun and stars!”

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Fine, fine. Wasn’t expecting so much from you.”

  What…ah. This form is heavier than it looks. “I can get down—”

  “Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere till I give you the ride of your life, beautiful.” Her actions support her words, the horse-lady standing with ease. Alana reflexively wraps her arms around her human torso and I wrap my arms around her.

  The others on two legs climb aback their friends and then we’re off. And…it’s amazing. I’ve gone just as fast, but it’s different. I can feel the power in the body under me; my ears are filled with a mix of pounding hooves and the rushing wind. The biggest difference is the view Being so high up lets me see further and something about it mixed with the long horizon gives the impression of the world being endless. It’s strangely peaceful, a hypnotic pace that could last forever without anyone noticing.

  But it doesn’t. We have a destination, after all. One it doesn’t take all that long to reach. At the edge of the Green Step, the tall grass narrows and is joined with other landscapes: the dusty earth from the qualifiers, a dark rich loam, and a swathe of barren land littered with loose rock. Where the terrains meet stands something that vaguely resembles only the very richest of the farmhouses in my memory; a single floor, long enough to hold half a dozen kids, several outbuildings, and pens. Saints, so many pens. Wandering between the fences are all kinds of animals but they’re all distinctively mount shaped; by that I mean they’re all four-legged and big enough for someone to ride on their backs. My mind goes there as I remember the Sanctuary supplies prized mounts all over the kingdom. I suppose some of them could be meant for other purposes, but, in my limited experience, operations like this don’t tend to branch out. If they breed mounts, that’s all they do. The variety alone makes this Ranch more special than most.

  Our charge startles the animals, beautiful horses with wings prancing backwards while large wolf-like beasts growl, tails lashing aggressively. We pay them no mind, rushing straight toward the front door.

  A group of men step out of the house to meet us and they are wrong. They have the dark coloring of the Temple, but they lack the dark rings of their commitment and are dressed in reasonable clothes, shirts and pants and saints damned boots. I’ve never known someone from the Temple to welcome, well, anyone, with anything other than good cheer without good reason. There is nothing but annoyance and disdain in the group’s expressions.

  The one in the lead, an older man with balding grey hair, has to visibly ease his sneer while the man at his shoulder, his son I’d guess from their resemblance, spits to the side as if the mere sight of my friends is enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

  We gradually slow to a stop in front of them, the cheerful whoops and hollers fading as the Jeshau tribe take on a more solemn countenance. Alana and I are quick to follow as Shake dismounts, stomping up to the five men arranged around the house’s steps.

  “What’s this?” the old man drawls at our approach; Shake has a head and a half of height on him and twice his weight, but he looks thoroughly unimpressed.

  “You can’t run amok like—”

  The old man cuts off his assumed son with a raised hand, not even looking at him as he does.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Does your grandfather know you’re here?”

  He can’t be talking about the man Shake spoke to; he barely looked like he was in is forties! At least, his human half. Can you tell a horse’s age from its coat?

  “He knows,” she says in a tone that clearly communicates what she thinks about being belittled. “We run with his blessing.”

  “And his weapons.”

  “Claws do not make a killer. There should be no need to use them, so long as we come to an agreement.”

  “Fucking animals,” the angry son snaps. “You’re still threatening us!”

  “Do not take food from the predator’s jaws. We won’t accept an unfavorable bargain. It is good that we are reasonable people.”

  “Bandits think they’re reasonable too!” the angry man shouts again, backed up by the mutterings of the men behind him. Despite their dissatisfaction, I can’t find any sign that they’ll turn to violence. Rather, the fear wafting from them is rather strong. They might not appreciate Shake’s violent approach, but they sure aren’t brave enough to stand up to her with more than hot words.

  The older man sighs. “What’s it to be?”

  “You have conducted business independent of the tribes.”

  Their body language immediately screams guilt, but their expressions are cautious. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You are holding weapons for the guilds.”

  Immediate relief. Feels like there’s a whole lot they’re keeping from the Temple and this is the least of it. The old man even waves dismissively. “That was a bargain struck generations past. They buried something long ago and have forgotten about it.”

  “Have you forgotten to take their money?”

  He scowls. “It’s just a couple of crowns on the side.”

  “But you have taken their money and hidden it. The nature of the agreement is also particularly offensive; did you not think that a group retrieving a cache of weapons could not turn them against us?”

  “As if anyone would want anything from you,” Angry Son scoffs. “What are they going to take? Your tents? Your bones?”

  “Three generations have broken the trust.”

  The old man stiffens. “Are you here to clean house? Cause we won’t go quietly.”

  Shake laughs. “No. Unlike you, we value our words. The agreement was that the tribes would withdraw their support. We have come to collect our final payment. Then there will be no bonds between us.”

  “Raal! Bring it!” One of the men in the back jogs into the house. “We still have to run our herd through the plains.”

  “Do as you will, so long as you do not disturb our shared home. The Jeshau do not own the Sanctuary.”

  The old man relaxes and I think I detect hints of guilt in his frown. Not a trace of that in Angry Son.

  “Idiots. We were practically giving you free money. We don’t even need your trainers anymore; the things were always too willful. Sun and stars, we’ll be saving coin without having to worry about dealing with the constant complaints aimed at you crazy people.”

  “Then the ancestors smile down on you this day,” Shake says, unbothered. I’m still confused about all of this, but I know better than to get in the way of someone’s money. Thankfully, as soon as the man sent to retrieve what’s owed to her clan places a medium bag of coins in her hands, Shake finally turns to me.

  “Thank you for waiting so patiently, sister. Now, the tribes no longer have any connection to the Ranch.”

  “What’s going on?” the older man asks, heart thumping as his eyes bounce between us.

  I ignore him. “That’s good?”

  “Yes. If you had done your business before I formally cut ties, my clan would have been bound by bargain to seek reparations. However, the tribes have been dissatisfied with them for generations. We have been simply waiting for an excuse to cut ties. Grandfather should have already sent runners to the other tribes.”

  “You!” the old man explodes. “You tricked us!”

  Shake turns back to him with a carefully neutral expression, an adult weathering a childish tantrum. “You broke the trust long before I was born and yet you would blame me? Besides, you said it yourselves. You do not need us.”

  The old man turns to me. “Then? What do you want? Some kind of noble brat who thinks she can still a pretty pony?”

  Ah. They don’t recognize me. “No, I’m the noble lady that’s here to collect those weapons.”

  “That goes against our contract.”

  “Well, you had to surrender them eventually. Who to?” Maybe this can be resolved peacefully.

  “You don’t need to know.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather I be speaking to them rather than you?”

  That gets the man thinking. Eventually, he nods and answers. “The current representative of the guilds we are allowed to release the items to is Guildmaster Emeritus.” The name vaguely tickles my memory.

  Alana nudges my shoulder. “The one Kii killed.”

  Oh. “He’s dead.”

  “I know,” the old man says.

  “…what does your contract say about this situation?”

  “A new representative must be presented to us, backed by three guildmasters.”

  There might not even be three guildmasters alive. Even with Jacoby and Grayskin…wait. Are they even guildmasters? Does the title simply pass to the next available hunter?

  “That’s impossible.”

  Angry Son smirks at me. “That’s not our problem. We hand it over to the representative and no one else.”

  “And when the guilds who’ve been shattered can’t pay your security fee or whatever?”

  His smirk gets smirkier. “If they miss three payments, they default on the contract and we keep the product to recoup our losses. Whatever they buried, it’ll belong to us soon enough.”

  “Perhaps we can have another conversation in two months,” the old man continues. “If you are that interested in their cache, we can come to an agreement.”

  …

  Are they stupid?

  Shaking my head, I just walk forward, Alana on my heels. The men watch me with confusion that rapidly morphs into concern at my approach.

  “Hey—”

  Angry Son’s reprisal is cut short; he reaches for me and I shove him to the side carelessly, sending the man tumbling ass over end in the dirt. The others hesitate and that’s enough for me to walk into the house unchallenged. I don’t bother trying to find my way through; I walk forward, anything that gets in my way either knocked down or trampled. The men yell behind me, but anyone that tries to stop me is tossed aside like the first. Thankfully, for their sakes, they don’t try to involve Alana, who is content to stay out of it. Shake is also trailing us at a distance, enjoying the loud farce.

  Behind the house are more neatly arranged pens, but just before them is a small shed. It’s incredible to think that simple wood and a thick lock are all that’s protecting the founders’ legacy, but they never expected it to keep anyone out. In this case, secrecy was the greatest defense. Just like me, the first guildmasters figured that they could count on the Temple not to be greedy bastards. Aside from that, no one would expect them to entrust such an important matter to lunatics.

  Well, it’s a decision that’s come back to bite their descendants; I casually rip the door off its hinges, lock and all. The tools, cans, and crates inside get tossed after it, garnering more yells and something being thrown back at me, the tiny pinch I feel telling me that it was something with a point that couldn’t measure up to my tough skin.

  The floor of the building is solid stone; a clue that the shed is more than it seems if I didn’t already know. I press my fingers together and strike it; the stone cracks as my hand sinks wrist-deep into the ground. My hands make for an improvised shovel as I toss dirt over my shoulder, faster and faster.

  It doesn’t take long to unearth the door. My digging becomes more focused, clearing rather than excavating. When I can see most of it, I heave, opening the ancient cache.

  My nose crinkles as I stale air hits my face. A ‘film’ drops over my eyes, changing the darkness into shades of gray and revealing familiar stone chests of varying sizes.

  …this is going to be a pain to move.