A light rain fell as I stepped out the longhouse door, just enough to let the world know it was there. Clouds were continuing to gather on the horizon, though, so there was a chance it might storm for real later. I didn’t see any flashes to indicate lightning, which was probably for the best. While I loved a good thunderstorm, I’d feel bad for the other hunters—not to mention what a downpour would do to obscure Borba’s trail.

I gave my shoulders a shake to settle my hauberk, and brought up the hood of my cloak. Around my neck was the otter charm Aluali and Billisha had carved for me. My spear was in hand, but my bow unstrung and strapped to my backpack. On my waist, I wore two belts, and scabbards for four knives—two hunting knives, a stiletto, and a camp knife.

Bihei and the kids refused to stay behind at the longhouse, and they walked with me toward the eastern gate. Villagers waved, calling out as we passed:

“Good hunting.”

“Avenge us.”

“Return whole to our Voorhei.”

One small child—she couldn’t have been more than four years old—came running barefoot out of her family’s longhouse with a flower necklace. I had to pull back my cloak and kneel for her to get it around my neck. Even so, it sat awkwardly atop my gear.

Afterward, the little girl didn’t say anything; she just gave me a pat on the cheek and ran back to her family. They’d watched her from their door. I gave them a nod and kept going.

The rest of the walk was a blur—my mind ahead of my body, thinking about what we’d need to do over the next couple of weeks. There were the logistics to consider, as well as what we’d likely face while out in the wilderness.

To the east of Voorhei was a mixture of wilderness and settled land. I’d never been out that way myself—I just hadn’t had the time—but I’d been instructed in the local geography by a several teachers: Inleio had wanted me to understand the nearby animal territories, Tegen believed in being thorough about knowing everything that could be known, and Uncle Kila, the merchant representing my business interests in Albei, made sure I knew where to go if I ever wanted to visit.

From what I’d understood, Albei was the biggest landmark in the area, and the city had major highways leading to and from it, in each of the cardinal directions. One of these highways passed to the north of Voorhei, and the gravel road leading out of the village’s east gate connected to it.

The villages of Voorsowen and Voorhoos were to the northeast and southeast respectively, but to get to them people typically headed to Albei first, so that they could stick to the highways. A river flowed just south of Voorhei, so sometimes people traveled via boat, but not many and not often, since upstream the river quickly diverged into a myriad of smaller streams, like the one connecting the village to Ikfael’s Shrine. There was, however, supposed to be a major river that flowed north-south through Albei which led to the coast.

Yes, an ocean lay to the south and east, assuming you went far enough. Of course I’d asked, and was told that it was a seven-to-ten-day walk, either east to the port of Ganas Hakei or south to Sugrusu Hakei.

Albei was much, much closer. Even though people made it sound like it was far away, the city was only four-to-six hours away by walking. There was a peddler who made the trek from Albei to Voorhei weekly, but most of our villagers only visited the city once or twice a year, for the big festivals in the spring and autumn.

However, that travel time to Albei, as well as to the port cities, assumed the weather was on your side and nothing got in your way, which was the real kicker—just because there was a highway, it didn’t stop the wildlife from attacking. You needed either guards or to travel in big enough numbers to dissuade them from thinking you’d make a tasty snack. Traveling was a dangerous business.

There was a reason Voorhei was as heavily fortified as it was. From what I’d heard, the other villages weren’t quite as robust, but each of them stood like islands in the wilderness, and travel between them was an endeavor for professionals and the brave at heart.

Which brought my thoughts around to Ikfael, and how she planned to join me—I just couldn’t imagine it. I mean, she’d gone on several excursions since I’d met her, but my impression was that she’d used the waterways to do it. The teams hunting Borba, meanwhile, would be going overland.

She’s not going to walk, is she? I’m not sure what else is possible. She doesn’t have the mana to keep the Knight Otter active all the time. I worried for Ikfael—that she was getting in over her head—and I also worried about the rain. Hopefully, we didn’t make a mistake not chasing after Borba right away. The trail’s going to be messy—

In response to my thoughts, I felt a wave of reassuring qi from Yuki. No words were attached, just the feeling of trust-in-family. Aluali must’ve gotten a similar message, because he took my hand and gave it a squeeze. Billisha noticed, and did the same on my other side. Then Bihei, not to be left out, grabbed one of the ends of my cloak.

We must’ve looked ridiculous, walking in a group like that, but some things were worth appearing silly for, and it helped keep my worries from circling out of control.

###

With a hug and a kiss each, I said goodbye to be Bihei and the kids, and made my way through the eastern gate. The hunter teams were gathering at the bottom of the hill, but not everyone seemed to be present, so I detoured to the river to the south of us.

Upstream from me was a small boat landing, and past that was the mill, its wheel turning. Some enterprising soul was likely getting their corn ground. I wondered who, since most of the villagers didn’t appear to be venturing outside today.

“Really, Ollie, give it a rest,” I muttered to myself. “It doesn’t matter who, just focus.”

I turned my attention to the river itself, and a few moments later, I was rewarded with the sight of an otter’s paw waving from the water. No otter, mind you, just the paw.

“Ikfael?”

In response, the paw gave a thumbs up, and cut through the water toward me, just like a shark’s fin might.

I approached the bank, shaking my head at her antics, and when I got close the paw dipped under the surface, only to come back moments later clutching a small sculpture of an otter. It was about six inches long, and had the fine grain of the sandstone I’d seen near the Glen. She’d done a lovely job using the stone’s native grays, whites, and blacks to shade her work. Interestingly, the sculpture appeared to be a fusion of the Mesoamerican style I typically saw in Voorhei and my own, more playful pieces—the ones I’d made from spirit mana.

Ikfael gestured for me to take the sculpture, so I did, and then she waved for me to bring it closer to the water—near enough for her to take it back. But she didn’t take it back. Instead, there was a whoosh, and I was suddenly pushed so hard, I fell on my ass.

The sculpture was still in my hand, but it felt heavier than before. Not physically, the statue was just two inches wide, so it only weighed about a couple of pounds, but there was a heft to it now. With my spirit eyes, I saw Ikfael’s eyes gazing out at me from inside the sculpture.

“Really? Are you sure?”

There was a reason her avatar was in the shape of an otter, and not, say, a mole, gopher, or some other burrowing animal. Ikfael had a talent for water, and she was able to become one with it with incredible ease. Sure, that same talent also worked on stone, but for some reason that came a lot harder to her. She’d been practicing, but it never looked easy or comfortable; she’d gritted her teeth every time I saw her training the ability.

Ikfael simply nodded. It was weird to see her spirit miniaturized and inhabiting the stone, like one image of her superimposed over another.

“And you want me to, what, take you out for meals?”

A pair of otter paws appeared in front of the statue and signed, “Clever, right?”

“It’s something, although I’m not sure ‘clever’ is the right word. I’m sorry, I have to ask again: do you really want to do this? You’re going to be stuck in my backpack the whole time.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ikfael signed, her gestures flippant. “Forcing myself to stay within stone for two weeks will be good practice, but I will need good meals as a reward.”

“Ah... we won’t have time to hunt for our food. We’ll be eating mostly dried—”

“No, no, no. I have brought everything from the refrigerator,” she said, looking pleased with herself. “We will be able to eat well.”

“I... okay... I can see how that would work.”

I’d been preparing myself mentally and emotionally for chasing down and killing a former friend. Ikfael inserting herself into the process wasn’t in any of the scenarios I’d imagined, and I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea.

“Are you unhappy that I’m coming with you?” Ikfael narrowed her eyes and folded her arms.

“No, of course not.”

“Then you’d best get moving. The hunters are all looking this way.”

I glanced behind me, and there was quite a crowd of people all peering at the strange boy sitting by the river talking to a statue. “I’m going to need to explain all this.”

“You can tell Mumu. She’ll appreciate the artistry of my work. For the rest, you decide. I don’t want to deal with it.”

Mumu caught my gesture and came jogging over. “What is it, Little Pot? We’ve already delayed too long.”

I showed her the statue, and said, “Well, here’s the thing...”

###

Broad smiles broke out when Mumu explained that Ikfael would be joining us on the hunt. It wasn’t exactly a blessing, the capital B kind, but that didn’t matter to the villagers. It was still a spirit of the land approving of the hunt, and that type of validation really shouldn’t be underestimated—not with how influential spirits could be. The villagers still told stories of being punished by them once for abusing darklight.

Also, no one appeared to have any difficulty grokking Ikfael’s thinking. A shrine was in the process of being built, and the shrine’s keeper was attending the hunt. Those connections were enough to justify all kinds of arrangements.

All the people who’d come to send off their loved ones trooped down to see what the fuss was about, and the relief from them was palpable, including from my own family. I’d mentioned to them that Ikfael was planning something, but hadn’t gone into details, not knowing what they were myself. Now, though, Billisha, Aluali, and even Bihei were as chipper as birds in the spring time. They laughed as people came up to pat me on the head and share their thanks for what I’d done.

Even Inleio’s ghost looked pleased, at least for a moment, before he turned to stare once more toward the village’s eastern boundary.

Ikfael’s actions created an unintended morale boost. Or maybe not so unintended? I thought, as we waved our goodbyes and headed out. Our Ikfael is clever after all. She must’ve known how the villagers would react to her presence. Still, this arrangement is clearly more than just about morale or food. She must really be worried.

###

The three hunter teams traveled in a line—Mumu’s in the lead, Susu’s in the middle, and Dura’s bringing up the rear. It was a typical arrangement, and would only change if we somehow lost Borba’s trail, in which case we’d switch to an arrowhead formation to better facilitate picking it back up.

That wasn’t needed at the moment, though. Borba had plunged into the forest shortly after escaping the village, and his empowered steps had left deep marks in the earth, the stink of his qi leading us northeast. We’d thought that he might stick to the road since he’d be able to go faster without having to avoid the forest’s usual obstacles, but no—he’d gone straight in as soon as he’d been able.

About half an hour later, we realized why. Mumu came back from scouting ahead to show us where Borba’s stride had shortened. He’d gone from running to stalking—his prints only half a foot apart—in the direction of a stand of ferns just outside the broad expanse of an oak tree. It looked like he’d paused there, and then the prints stretched out again in a series of leaps toward the tree’s trunk.

There, we found the remains of a two-tailed fox, or what was left of her, anyway. The vixen had been disemboweled, and the heart, liver, and kidneys were missing, as well as the animal’s core. There wasn’t any evidence of a fight, so Borba had likely surprised the fox, ending the animal’s life quickly by breaking her neck. Then he’d torn the belly open to devour the organs raw.

The trees around us were furious. They raged, their limbs shaking. The fox’s ghost, too, bared her teeth, and barked soundlessly. She almost looked rabid, but she didn’t try to attack any of the hunters. Instead, she took off running in circles around the trees.

As I watched her, I also saw that the disturbance extended farther than just the area around the oak. There appeared to be spirits twenty, thirty, and even forty yards away who were similarly angry. That didn’t make sense, not unless all these trees were connected in some way or Borba had hunted additional creatures nearby. Which still didn’t make sense, since the evidence pointed to him not lingering after killing the fox. His tracks led directly to the northeast—a couple of ordinary steps before he started to run again.

“Something feels wrong,” Mumu muttered.

“You notice it too?” I signed.

Mumu nodded. “Borba might’ve intentionally left the fox here to delay us, or he may be planning to backtrack and ambush us.” She whistled, calling the other teams forward, and then spread the word for them to be on guard.

The hunters spread out, slipping between the trees and the underbrush. Those that knew the Camouflage spell or had special hiding abilities used them. As for my team, Mumu and I searched the area, while Haol climbed the oak for a better vantage on the area, and Tegen and Teila posted at the tree’s base.

As I moved, I opened my spirit eyes as wide as possible, but didn’t see anyone sneaking through the area other than the hunters that had come with us. Some of the trees looked sicklier than the others, and there were disturbances among the small animals that lived in them, but that was it.

That smell... The thought from Yuki directed my attention to the closest of the sickly trees.

What is it? I asked.

The scent is Borba’s. Yuki must’ve felt my confusion, because they continued, It’s faint, but definitely him.

I detoured to the tree in question, an horotonei. About a third of its leaves had already fallen, creating a carpet of yellows, oranges, and reds, and making the whole area smell of cardamon. Shifting some of the leaves aside, I didn’t spot any tracks in the earth. There weren’t any marks along the tree’s roots or on its trunk either.

The sickly spot was farther up, where the lowest branch met the trunk. Maybe it’s an infection or something—

That’s where the smell is coming from, Yuki said.

Hmm... okay. I’ll head up for a closer look.

I whistled to draw the attention of any nearby hunters, and when Miri and Dura appeared out of a stand of bushes, I let my Camouflage spell go long enough to sign to them: “Watch, guard. I’m climbing.”

They both nodded in response, and I turned my attention back to the tree. It was shaped a lot like a California bay laurel, one that’d grown for forty or fifty years, with a smooth bark and yellow stripes. The lowest branch was about ten feet up, so I cast a quick Bear’s Strength and took a couple of steps to get a running jump. Even with the spell’s help, though, there was no way I’d reach the branch directly, so I grabbed onto the trunk and pulled myself up the rest of the way.

I reached where the branch extended from the trunk, and in the join between the two, spotted the dim glimmer of Borba’s qi. And not just the remnants either—there was the telltale flicker of his Siphon ability.

I stared, dumbfounded.

In all the hunts I’d gone on with Borba after he’d turned dusk, he’d only used Siphon on animals. It never occurred to me that he could also use it on trees, although it made sense that it should work—trees had qi just like every other living creature.

I quickly glanced around the area and counted at least another five or six trees with the same sickly cast. I dropped to the ground and rushed to check them out.

Miri and Dura looked alarmed by my actions, so I released my Camouflage and signed, “Wait, wait. No immediate danger.”

Well, it wasn’t immediate, but there was definitely danger—every tree I checked showed evidence of Borba’s ability at work, a thin slash from one of his claws and the glimmer of his qi. He’d taken pains to hide his handiwork, but my spirit eyes revealed the sources of the trees’ illness and showed me where to look.

The other thing I noticed was that Borba wasn’t draining the trees as quickly as he could. His qi pulsed slowly—a steady draw as opposed to the greedy gulping down that I was used to witnessing. The trees were clearly meant to be a battery, a hidden source of ongoing power.

I felt Yuki rustling in the back of my head, and I started to catch recollections of Borba lazily drawing his claws across tree trunks as he walked. It wasn’t anything obvious, and it was almost always after a hunt, when he was at least temporarily satisfied. The stink of his qi was overwhelming in those moments, but we’d just assumed it was all coming from him.

How long? I asked.

From when we first saw him carve a tree? At least five weeks.

Do we know how many?

If Yuki could’ve shaken their head, they would’ve. There’s no way to tell, but it was likely dozens of trees. It’s probably how he escaped—the slow accrual of enough qi to eventually break free. He must’ve been biding his time until he was ready.

And he’s only going to get stronger, I thought. We’re in a forest; there’s no lack of trees. Plus, with that much energy to spare, he’s not going to have trouble holding onto any stolen qi abilities.

We can assimilate his qi and nullify his Siphon ability on anything we find, but the effort will delay us.

It would mean keeping a constant eye out for sickly trees, and creatures too for that matter. Dura had approached while I was thinking things through.

“Little Pot, what has you so worried?”

Before I could answer, though, Mumu also came striding over. “We found signs of Borba sneaking through this area, and we think he was hunting more animals. He even climbed some of the trees in desperation. His luck must’ve been poor, though, because we found no evidence of kills. Since it’s no longer likely this is an ambush, we’re moving on.”

I shook my head. “It's worse than you think.”

“How so?” Mumu asked.

“He’s been feeding on the trees.”