The question of the creature lay heavy on my mind as I made my way back to the clearing where the lawman had fallen. He obviously had not known the creature’s magical nature when he followed her into the forest, but it seemed his pursuit had been deliberate. If that was the case, he might have information that would help me identify and find her again. I felt conflicted, though—involving him further could be a mistake. Human were strange things, and most handled change poorly. Besides, there was my father and the People to consider.

The lawman was unconscious when I arrived at his side. Like all humans, he looked impossibly fragile asleep, but even more so lying there beaten and injured in the grass.

I stooped to inspect him more closely, prodding him tentatively with one finger. His chest rose and fell, telling me he was alive, but his breathing sounded forced and labored. Unhealthy. Red blood had dried around the numerous defensive wounds across his hands and arms. His thin, nearly hairless skin had provided almost no protection against the creature’s slashing talons. The ruby scab covering the gash on his forehead sparkled in the pale light of the moon. That wound looked to be the worst of his injuries.

The fact that he had not regained consciousness yet—though helpfully preventing him from seeing me—was a bad sign. It indicated bleeding on the brain. He needed medical attention. If the pressure in his skull had not already built up enough to do permanent damage, then it soon would.

I frowned. I could not risk taking him into Missoula to the human hospital. The likelihood I would be seen was far too high. If my father would have been furious to know I had revealed myself to a single human, then there was not yet a word for what he would be if I allowed a city full of humans to see me.

And even if I could get this lawman to a hospital without being seen, I might never be able to find him again, let alone speak to him about the creature. He was the only lead I had.

If I had access to my collection of roots and herbs, I could treat his injuries myself. I had studied native and Outworld medicine extensively, and many of their cures were far more effective than the small doses of poison and haphazard guesswork human doctors seemed to favor. But my ingredients were all safely stored on the shelves in my room in the Great Redwood, completely useless from here. Even at top speed, there was a chance I could not make it to my room, create a healing, and return to this clearing to treat him before irreversible damage was done to his brain.

I could not make it there and back in time … but I could make it there.

Surely the necessity of dispatching this unnatural evil from Inworld justified bringing one single human into the Sacred Grove. With his injuries, he would most likely remain unconscious the whole time, anyway. And once the lawman was stable, I could bring him back to Inworld and question him about the creature he was chasing.

I stood, decided. I picked the lawman up, stabilizing his neck and cradling him carefully in my arms, then sprinted for the Cave of Changing.

Firs, pines, aspens, and oaks blurred around us as I ran, parting respectfully at my passage. Earlier this night I had followed a circuitous route through the forest, covering as much of our Inworld territory as possible while searching for that which was out of place. Now, I cut a direct route through the foliage, taking the path of the crow toward the Cave of Changing—a thin place connecting Inworld and Outworld. From there, I could step from the Bitterroot Valley into the Sacred Grove, nestled at the far edge of the Spirit World. Home to my kind.

As the rock face housing the cave came into view, I slowed and shifted the lawman onto my shoulder. From the outside, the narrow fissure looked unremarkable, but to those who could see true, the way was as bright as Father sun at noonday. I could cast a powerful veil to hide the lawman from the sharp eyes of my friends and kin, but walking with my arms outstretched as if I were carrying an invisible load would only raise their suspicions. It was awkward to balance the lawman on my shoulder—I had to lean to my right and raise my left shoulder to keep him from rolling off—but if I walked slowly and used a veil, no one should notice that I carried a human into the heart of the Sacred Grove.

I cast the veil, then put a simple glamour over myself that would make it look as if I were unharmed. Then I turned sideways and ducked into the Cave of Changing. A chill of power poured across my flesh, as icy as runoff during the spring melt. The lawman did not respond to the stimulus. Another bad sign. In the space between the realities, time twisted and contorted, stretched and folded into a moment that felt endless.

Finally, my foot hit the stone floor, grounding my body in the Spirit World. My perception of time returned to normal, and I set off down the stone tunnel toward my home.

The opening at the opposite end of the Cave of Changing was much wider and taller. I stepped through it without ducking, entering into the presence of the Great Trees. Colossal pines, immense cottonwoods, and hearty oaks towered overhead, deep black shapes against a slightly less black sky studded with infinite stars.

It was still hours from dawn, and most of the People would be in their homes. Our dwelling places are grown from the branches of the Great Trees, and I surveyed these as I passed, trying to look into all of the windows at once. A few were lit with a pleasant glow, but the majority were dark. I did not see anyone looking out into the night, but still I felt as if I were being watched.

A guilty conscience can do such a thing.

I continued through the Sacred Grove, toward the heart of the forest, attempting to appear nonchalant. I cannot whistle, but I wished then that I could. I have seen humans do it, and when they do, they seem very relaxed and as if they are up to nothing suspicious.

As I approached the Great Redwood, I tore my attention from the dwelling near the top—no shadow darkened its balcony—and focused on the pair of guards at the base. Though the People are peaceful, that does not mean that we do not stand ready for war, and ever since the Kinslayer’s betrayal, we are on our guard, even in our home.

My heart pounded in my ears like a ceremonial drum. It is most common for the Chiye-tanka to communicate in our minds, but on this night, I could not be sure my thoughts would not betray me.

“Kanti,” I said, nodding my head at the older guard, a tawny-haired Chiye-tanka female to the left of the entrance. My voice barely shook at all. I forced a smile that felt too wide, then greeted the younger guard. “Nakoma. I am just returning from a long night stargazing at the edge of the Sacred Grove. It is much easier to see the stars from there. Have you looked to the heavens this night? They so beautiful this time of year.”

Nakoma and Kanti exchanged a glance. Kanti is many years older than I, and so the mild incredulity she turned on me was perhaps deserved. Nakoma is of an age with me, and had certainly not earned the expression of long-suffering he affected. Making himself seem wiser and older than his years had always been his way, though.

“No, Winona”—he spoke aloud as if to humor my eccentricity—“we have not been staring at the stars. It is our duty to guard the Great Redwood this night, and guarding it we have been.”

“A duty you have been doing admirably,” I said, reaching for the door between them. With the lawman on my shoulder and my body cocked to the side, my balance was far from on center. The door felt heavier than I had ever known it. Why was it not opening? Was I too weak from fighting the monster? My smile felt frozen and terrified.

Another glance passed between Kanti and Nakoma. As if his heels were suddenly nipped at by a hellhound, Nakoma hurried to obey her silent order and opened the door for me.

When Kanti turned back to me, her black lips turned up in a fond smile. Her mind touched mine like a pat on the back. I could not hold her out without arousing suspicion, so I opened a small window of thought through which she could speak to me.

There is no shame in seeking solitude to mourn, child, Kanti sent. Your loss was great. The Kinslayer may have betrayed us all, but it was your heart he broke.

A sudden spike of pain in the back of my throat made my eyes water. I blinked and forced a new smile, the one I had become accustomed to wearing when friends or kin spoke pityingly to me.

I would not mourn a monster, I replied, anger fortifying the mental wall between us. He was destroyed, as all monsters should be.

But Kanti’s sea-green eyes were a bit too understanding.

I closed the window of thought abruptly, and entered the ground floor of the Great Redwood, in my haste nearly forgetting to step carefully and keep my shoulder lifted under my precarious secret load.

Inside, the banquet table sat clean and untouched at this late hour. Likewise, our rugs and seating pillows, woven in all the colors of Inworld and Out, lay empty. On another night, I might have selected a leather-bound volume from the many shelves that grew from the Redwood’s walls, and stretched out on one of the pillows for a relaxing read. This night I had eyes only for the staircase.

Like all the Great Trees, the heartwood had remained intact and unbroken while the Redwood’s center was grown into a dwelling place. The staircase sprouted from the core, spiraling around and up past the guest quarters, kitchens, libraries, armories, galleries, and storage. My rooms were on the penultimate level of the tree—the ninth. I met no one on the stairs, though I saw a few people through the doorways at each level. To each I gave a respectful yet casual greeting, but unwaveringly continued my climb.

Though the lawman was tiny, he seemed to weigh more with every step. I knew it was not a good sign that he did not stir, yet I also despaired of any sound or movement he might make that would alert my kin to his presence. My conviction that finding the creature was more important than breaking this taboo had not wavered, but I also did not want to be found out before I could stabilize his injuries and question him about what he knew.

This was not sneaking … I was just doing what had to be done to protect the Little Brothers and Sisters.

All the same, when I arrived at my rooms, my shoulders sagged with relief. The lawman slipped, and I had to catch him in both hands before he tumbled to the floor. I closed the door behind me, placed him on my sleeping rug, and dispelled the veil.

He looked like a child’s toy lying on my rug.

The gash on his forehead would need to be treated first.

I worked quickly, picking ingredients from my shelves and mixing them with practiced ease. I applied a tincture of yarrow and oak to his head wound. This would stop any hemorrhaging and bring down the swelling inside his skull. Next, I coaxed the lawman to swallow the tiny, slimy gray gland of a Little Brother of the Blade—the reptilian offspring of a Lamia—to help him begin regeneration of the damaged tissue. I had harvested several many months ago, after an impromptu trip into the dank sewers beneath the Hub, but this was my first opportunity to use one since. Lastly, a paste of greenbriar went onto each of the lawman’s cuts to purify his blood of any diseases the creature’s talons were carrying.

While I waited for the lawman’s wounds to set, I spent a few moments applying the greenbriar to my own lacerations. I did not want any monster diseases in my blood, either.

My nose wrinkled in disgust. Beneath the aroma of the medicines, I could smell that creature’s vile stink clinging to me like a tick. I wished desperately for a bath—the dirt, wood dust, and blood in my hair made me feel disgusting—but I could not leave the lawman’s side until his condition stabilized.

Slowly, the bruising around the worst of his wounds turned from deep purple to a yellowed gray-brown. His face, slack and lifeless before, frowned as if lost in a perplexing dream.

I beamed at his still form. Finally, a good sign!

“You are no longer in danger of coma or brain-death …” With a jolt of surprise, I realized I did not even know my patient’s name.

A quick search of his pockets revealed a wallet containing a badge and license to drive.

“You are no longer in danger, Detective Christopher Fuller.” I returned the wallet to his pocket. “You fought well. Now sleep well.”

I stood, grinning with accomplishment.

The detective had endured a long night and would probably sleep for quite some time yet. While he did, I could wash the grit of the battle and the stink of that creature away. My stomach rumbled. Perhaps there would even be time to find something to eat. However, when I opened the door to the hallway, my satisfaction evaporated like dew in the morning sun.

My father stood in the doorway, all nine feet four inches of him hunched and hulking, his huge arms crossed and his moss-green eyes glaring down at me.