One
Fen woke to the sight of boots. The boots were well worn, the tops wrapped with braided leather cord in a rather pretty fashion. The cords were tight, probably to help keep the boot’s owner warm in the chilly damp. The owner of the boots had pants for that as well, made of roughly spun wool dyed a dark color, likely much more suited to the woods than Fen’s pants of finely spun but thin wool, which had snagged and torn sometime during the night, leaving one of Fen’s knees bare to the cold.
He shivered reflexively, although he didn’t think he’d stopped shivering even after he must have fallen asleep. Foolish of him. He’d only meant to rest for a few moments beneath the limited shelter of a thorny bush, then continue on, putting as much distance between himself and the road as he could before dawn, when he’d be more easily spotted.
It was dawn now, or close to it. And hehadbeen spotted; another pair of boots appeared when he turned his head.
Fen flinched, then controlled himself before he made any other noticeable movements. He looked up as best as he could and saw three people regarding him curiously in the faint light, one standing behind the first two. Fear made his heart race but panic could not leave him any colder than he already was. He held still, trying to quiet his loud, frightened breathing before he scooted out from beneath the thorns. His short cloak caught, yanking his hood down but he left it, only reaching back to free himself as he sat up.
The figures moved to allow that, but not much. All of them were dressed in brown or black, maybe green, perfect for hiding among the closely packed trees. Fen would have assumed they were bandits, but he thought he was on the edge of the vast territory of the Acana, and The Acana was famously unforgiving to bandits and anyone he deemed trespassers. Surely no bandits would dare. And he was far from the road. At least, Fen hoped he was.
He didn’t immediately recognize any of the three, which meant if they were guards or warriors, they were not The Acana’s. Though even the warriors of the Geon would have worn some kind of armor, surely. Fen didn’t understand how such things were decided, but if he were fighting for a noble family, he would want some sort of protection. These three, if they wore any, kept it hidden beneath layers of wool that Fen envied the longer he considered them. They looked so very warm.
The one behind the others was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with hair concealed by her hood and one hand tucked into her belt next to the hilt of her sword. Fen couldn’t make out details of the hilt to tell if it was the sort of weapon provided by a noble for a guard.
The other two were carrying swords as well, one of them wearing an additional knife, the other with a bow across his back. The one with the bow was the shortest of the group, and might stand lower than even Fen, but had eyes of unnerving brightness despite his frown. The largest of the group, taller and broader than the woman, had his hood down, revealing hair of some dark shade. A few small braids led up to a twisted knot that kept his hair from his face. The style possibly matched the braiding on his boots. His short beard was the same color as the rest of his hair. His eyes were not bright, and when Fen made the mistake of meeting them, he saw no expression he knew how to read.
Fen quickly lowered his gaze to the ground and kept it there.
One of the strangers made a startled noise that Fen might have found amusing at any other time. Mostly, if they weren’t going to bother him, he needed to appease them and then slip away. He’d already lost time.
“You aren’t going to stand?” someone asked in an oddly soft voice.
Fen obediently moved to stand, swaying once on his feet. He grabbed the closest branches of the bush to stay upright and waited for his head to clear.
“Or ask who we are?” asked someone with a deeper voice. “What we want? Anything?”
Fen raised and dropped his shoulders in a careful shrug. “You’re not guards or warriors of the Acana, and we are not in lands belonging to anyone else unless I got turned around in the night.” Unfortunately possible, but Fen ignored that for now. “You might be bandits, but we’re not near the road… although if you were, you wouldn’t tell me so. At least, I don’t think you would, if you were sensible bandits. You’re dressed well for the woods, so I assume you’re sensible.” One of them made the strange sound again, a startled, quickly stifled exhalation. “If you’re not bandits, or Geon or Acana warriors, then you must be…”
He shut up moments too late. If they were not warriors who were supposed to be here, then they were warriors who werenotsupposed to be here.
He would never have spoken so much and so recklessly if he hadn’t been exhausted from running through the night. But the guards escorting him had taken forever to consume all the wine Fen had covertly paid the innkeeper to keep giving them, and had fallen asleep at the common table later than he’d expected, so he’d had more ground to cover in less time. Even now, those guards might be waking up with sore heads and the dawning horror of what The Acana might do once Fen’s absence was discovered.
He dared another furtive look up.
Either some noble family had decided to attack an Earl as powerful as The Acana—foolish but not unheard of—or… or the stories were correct and the Wild Dog had come to collect the head of another Earl.
Of course, the Wild Dog had notactuallytaken any Earl’s head, only their lands and much of their dignity. But it was just a matter of time until he did. The Earls and other nobles were not going to let him go unchallenged much longer, and one would stand and face him instead of running, and somehow, Fen did not think an Earl, no matter how warlike or experienced, would be victorious in that encounter.
It was the stories about the Wild Dog that made Fen think it. The stories could not all possibly be true, but enough of them must be, because the Earls were worried. Even The Acana himself had been prodded into action.
“What are you doing out here, flower?” asked the shorter one, the one with the deep voice. His accent was not from any of the lands near the Acana, nor from any part of the lands north or west unless it was from a place Fen was unfamiliar with. Although Fen had never traveled beyond Acana lands and couldn’t say for sure.
He stared down at his hands in confusion at the pet name more than at the man’s accent, then remembered the hint of the design in the hem of his tunic, visible where his cloak opened—tiny bluebells.
“I’m a weaver,” Fen lied without lying. “And I’ve left the household of The Acana in order to work for the Lylanth.” He let his voice be like honey and hoped it did not matter that his clothing was torn and he was undoubtedly dirty, or that his short hair had fallen into his face. “If you please, am I headed in the right direction?”
“The road is back that way,” said the woman, waving in the direction she meant. She did not indicate that Fen should hurry away. Neither did the other two. The shorter one turned to exchange a look with her. The largest one kept his gaze on Fen.
“However,” the shorter one began, turning back around, “there is likely fighting that way, flower.”
“There is always fighting,” Fen responded, thinking that he had never spoken so recklessly in his life and blaming it on his long night, and then on his stomach when it gurgled to remind him that he had not eaten since yesterday morning.
The quietly startled noise came from the largest one. Although this time, it sounded more like a small laugh than anything doubtful or mean. The man’s eyes had to be a darker color than Fen’s gentle brown, too dark for Fen to determine it in quick glances in dim light.
“That’s true enough,” said the shorter man. “But that still means it’s no place for you.”
Fen raised his head, although he kept his gaze on the largest man’s shoulder. He thought he saw the outline of armor beneath the wool.
