I laid back on the ground far enough that the small dung fire Rawley and Nole were using to dry off and warm up that its heat hadn’t melted the snow underneath me into mud. Fellen laid next to me, also facing away from the fire so that she could watch the sky lights with me. She had joined us on the river bank in time to see Fenris pull Rawley into another swimming contest. Surprisingly, it had been a close match, but Rawley still won. Many of the Pack huntresses’ moods had gone sour by then between my presence and repeatedly losing to Rawley and Nole—only to watch their leader get beat as well. If they had been more creative in their pick of contests the Pack huntresses could have won more often, but as it was they were going up against women who’s whole livelihood was based around succeeding on their own while their unique strength only showed through when they worked together. Nole cited cramping and tired muscles from the cold water and multiple races, diffusing some of the tension that might have snapped if the contests continued, and we left to find the fire we were by now.

I had only noticed the lights while we sat and tried to drag ourselves through a conversation. With only one truly talkative person in the group, Fellen, keeping the flow of questions, answers, and points made going was difficult work at times. Rawley tended to lapse into silence more often when she didn’t have something to teach, Nole wasn’t one to say something if she didn’t think she had anything important to say, and I had little experience in group conversations and not much of a desire to feel like an idiot by saying the wrong thing. So in the end, I heard way too much about Fellen’s night with her parents and the good, bad, and ugly of the performances they’d seen. By the time I spotted the lights even she was running out of things to comment on.

We all welcomed the diversion, but Rawley and Nole weren’t keen on laying in the snow after being in the river, and Fellen and I didn’t want to completely separate from them in order to see the lights better. It was an easy solution to lay near by while they continued to dry. At first, we described the lights to them, the changes in color and movement they couldn’t make out in the firelight. The lights were like colorful strands of lakeweed rippling back and forth in the sky, mostly variations of blue and green but sometimes a purple or yellow strand would appear. Then we faded into silence, content to simply watch the display at our mentors urging.

We laid there as the tribe bustled around us, dancing and singing, until others wondered what we were looking at and word spread throughout the tribe. Everything quieted down. It was an odd experience for a festival dedicated to song and dance, but the sky lights were an uncommon event and everyone seemingly decided they didn’t want to distract from them. It was one thing to see our self-made lights as we danced or sung, and quite another to see them on a grand scale without a care for our existence.

Fellen turned her face toward me as the last of the lights faded from the night sky. “Are you excited to go to the Seedling Palace?”

I kept my gaze on the stars above. “Yes.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her own eyes narrow. “That was a lie.”

I needed to figure out how she could tell—I knew I hadn’t pressed my lips together that time. Being easy to read wouldn’t serve me well in most situations. And honestly, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the Seedling Palace. Just going there was an important step toward my goal to become one of the goddess’s chosen, but that didn’t negate the fact that I had no true idea what the training there would be like. Uncertainties were never welcome; it was too easy to do the wrong thing, make the wrong choice when they came into play. But I also didn’t have much choice but to deal with them. Ever since my mark crystallized on my skin I was destined to go to the Seedling Palace, where I would succeed or fail, just like every other girl with a blessed mark. We became whisper women or the disgraces who failed, never to be seen or heard from again. Really, the only question that mattered was how high in the ranks we climbed. It wasn’t a matter of being excited or not—it was more akin to taking a narrow path up a mountain with the side of the mountain blocking your view of all but your next step, and a steep drop over a cliff on your other side. What mattered was how disciplined you were to keep going and not lose your footing.

“I don’t have much of a choice about going.”

“Would you stay with the tribe if you could?”

“No.” The response was automatic and truthful, but I could tell it wasn’t the answer she wanted. Hurt radiated off of her as she shifted to stare back up at the sky. I debated letting her stew in it, use the hurt to push her away from me and away from the idea of becoming a Realmwalker. But I took too long to decide on which way I wanted to elaborate on my answer and she moved the conversation forward.

“Of course not. Why would you want to stay close by the he—your…family…” She drew in a sharp breath and pressed on. “What would you do if you could do anything else? Be a huntress?”

I hadn’t thought about the missing weight in my hair for a long while, but in that moment I could almost feel my healer’s beads weighing down my hair. If I could be anything else? Even with the stigma that came with it, and the foolish way I had cut the remote possibility out of my life, I knew what I would chose.

Lone huntress was the next best option. It didn’t have the thrill of correctly mixing a poultice or watching your work hide someone from the goddess’s gaze when by all rights they should have died, but the lessons and skills were interesting. I liked the feeling that I was becoming more aware of my surroundings, that my ability to fend for myself was increasing.

I rolled over onto my stomach, so that I was almost close enough to whisper in Fellen’s ear. “Do you really want to know?”

She looked at me wide eyed, not expecting the sudden nearness or the edge to my voice. Still, her curiosity got the better of her. “Tell me.”

I reached up and took the still bit of hair in between two fingers, gauging her reaction the whole time. “If I could be anything, I wouldn’t have given up this.”

Fellen shifted back, incredulous. “Why? Nothing good comes from being a healer, you know that.”

Her reaction wasn’t unexpected, but I still felt a sliver of cold slide under my ribs at the derision in her voice. It sat a little too close to the years of judgment and ridicule for being life-ridden. I could understand the fear and thin toleration I had received—no one wanted to risk the goddess’s eye, after all—but I had also always hated the way the tribe and others willfully acted like half the tribe wouldn’t be dead or disabled if a healer wasn’t there to treat them.

“Tell that to everyone who’s been to the healer’s tent and still walks because of it.”

“I…” Fellen seemed at a loss for words. “I don’t understand why you would want to go back to that.”

I snorted softly. “I don’t. Not to my childhood—but the learning? The craft? That’s what made everything else bearable.”

“Oh.”

I could tell she didn’t really get it. How could being life-ridden help anything? But she also hadn’t immediately abandoned me or shut me down as soon as I told her. That counted for something. So I rolled back onto my back and pushed the conversation forward.

“What would you be?”

She gathered herself and thought for a few long moments before replying, “Realmwalker.”

I struggled not to roll my eyes. “Why?”

Fellen shot me a long suffering look. “You know why.” She pressed her lips together and then added, “And Realmwalkers don’t have to be afraid of anything anymore. They already faced the worst trials possible.”

“There’s always the goddess.”

Her glare burned into my cheek. “Stop being difficult.”

“I’m not—”

“Gimley?” Rawley’s voice cut into our conversation. I twisted so I could see her by the fire and she continued when she saw she had my attention. “I have something for you. Could you come here for a moment?”

I glanced back at Fellen who looked ready to keep arguing before I pushed myself to my feet and went over to the small fire. A part of me had wanted to continue the argument, but the knowledge that would amount to nothing helpful and the obligation to listen to my mentor overwhelmed that petty desire. Nole got up and made her way to Fellen.

Rawley chucked me gently under the chin when I sat next to her. “Trying to push her away won’t help you now.”

“But—” I cut myself off as I realized the implications of what she said. “You heard?”

She smiled at me and tapped her ear. “Patience. Listening. Preparation. Flexibility. And I didn’t need to hear every word to understand the gist of what was happening.” Rawley held up a hand before I could speak. “But I wasn’t lying when I said I had a gift for you. Given what I heard I think it’s time to give it to you.”

My eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”

Her smile softened and unease started to coil in my gut. “I can’t make it so you can be a healer again. But that doesn’t mean you need to throw away everything you learned.”

She reached into the largest pouch at her side and pulled out another pouch, about half the size. Small leaves had been carved around the lip of the bag and dyed black. Four cords hung from the bag, two to hold the pouch securely to my belt and two to cinch the bag closed. Each was tipped with one of my healer’s beads.

“What is this?”

Rawley pressed the pouch into my hands. “Gathering plants and other ingredients doesn’t only reside within the healer’s domain. Don’t waste your knowledge.”

“But—”

This time she interrupted me. “You can organize your supplies with this. Open it.”

I didn’t want to, afraid of what I might find, but at the same time there was a compulsion drying out my mouth and demanding that I see what lay inside. I opened it. I found six small compartments stitched inside and each held a small, simple ceramic jar. The pouch had thick lining on the inside made out of wool so that the jars would be less likely to break.

I couldn’t pull my gaze from the sight. It looked like a tiny version of a healer’s satchel. “Why?”

Rawley chuckled, though the sound was more sad than amused. “You can’t be a healer, but healing isn’t the only thing you can do with your knowledge and plants. Not all huntresses learn the art—and normally it would come later in your apprenticeship if you do learn it—but we are almost out of time. You learned about poisons, yes? But you were discouraged from actually using them?”

I nodded—the implications of what she was saying, offering, playing through my mind and stealing my ability to speak. I had to know about poisons to know how to counteract them, to understand the consequences mixing particular ingredients could have, but she had been adamant that we didn’t mess with them. The only time we came close was when we induced nausea to get the sickness out of someone’s belly or miscarriages for those that needed and asked for it.

“That is because they fall within our domain. We do not go so far as to kill with them and risk the anger of the goddess, but the ability to slow or weaken difficult prey during an important hunt? Incapacitating difficult Picker Bands for a time who don’t learn their lesson? That is what the poison is for. If your interest lies in learning and craft…” Rawley spread her hands wide, “perhaps healing isn’t your only answer.”

I wanted it. If it meant I could better use the years and years of knowledge I had learned, if it meant I could explore the endless potential hidden away within the plants growing all around me, I wanted it. Nor could I discount the potential usefulness of another skill set—anything could be useful during my training to become a whisper woman. Not to mention that if Prevna poisoned me again, perhaps I would better prepared in the future to do more than merely identify it.

Rawley lifted my chin so that I had to look at her instead of the bag. “Do you accept?”

I gave her a small smile and gripped the pouch a little tighter. “Please teach me.”

“I will.”