"Laugh as much as you want, no one will take this smile away from me.

Not even death."

Kark The Smiler.

They had been wandering for two days among fat trunks spotted with greenish lichen and strange plants of worn colors, some of which had been taken to their stomachs. Luckily, the ground was dry, pockmarked with shadows and patches of light that swayed as the cold wind swayed the thinner branches. Birds chirped and twittered and insects hovered in the air with an incessant buzzing, totally oblivious to the carnage that had been taking place there in recent days. The trees rustled and the flowers smiled with muted lushness as they watched the battle–hardened hunter pass by with the adorable demon. Derren had never seen the forest so calm. No sign of wolves. Not a sign of cerberus.

However, the hunter was not fooled by the forest. In the Green Fangs, calm had an ephemeral nature. So he was not surprised when they came across four more corpses, and while that had heightened Demi's fear, it had also increased his comfort. The boots of one corpse, a huntress with the Seabreaker buckle, fit her foot quite well and they only had to cut off the tip. Her toes breathed gracefully and gratefully and, to top it off, her blisters were healing quite nicely.

If it hadn't been for the fact that they hadn't found a single trace of the dragonfly, it could have been said that things were going smoothly. But Derren's face was wearing a perpetual grimace of worry, and that didn't help to calm the girl who was following closely, afraid of being left behind. Occasionally, Demi would make an effort to initiate a more personal conversation. The tables had turned, as Demi was now the more talkative one, and Derren didn't know if he preferred her as before.

“So, your father was killed by a king?”

“Uh–huh,” he nodded wearily.

“What about your mother?”

“She was taken by the disease of the side.”

“Brothers?” but Derren immediately shook his head. “Friends? Everyone has friends!”

“They died in these forests.”

Demi swallowed hard. The hunter's answers did not help to infuse a good mood to the tedious march through the trees, so she kept silent and tried to enjoy nature, its colors and its music.

Before the sun had fully set, they reached an area where the trees ended abruptly, as if their roots had come up against an impassable wall of light.

“Yes, at last!” exclaimed the hunter, wiping his sullen expression from his face for a moment. “I thought we'd never get here! Welcome to the Green Fangs, Demi.”

The thick brown and green wall gave way to a vast glade where the trees had been replaced by solid, rugged outcroppings that seemed to spring from the very center of the earth. Huge rocky columns covered with ivy and other climbing plants rose majestically before the two walkers. Thick vines hung from them, swaying in the wind. Demi opened her mouth to say something, but she had forgotten the words.

“Oh...”

“It is a sacred place for my people. Legend has it that these rock towers wrapped in vegetation are fangs that some deities pulled out to imprison evil spirits in the depths of the earth. It is supposed that here, under our feet, are the evil essences of the forest. Some believe that the cerberus were created to guard this place, and above all to prevent anyone from freeing these spirits.”

“What about you? What do you think?”

“Me? Ha! Of course not. Do these look like fangs to you? If the cerberus were protecting this place, where are they now? Oh no, cerberus are like wolves: the only thing they protect is their appetite, and we are fresh meat.”

“So no one believes in this legend?”

“Few daredevils venture deep enough into the forest to catch a glimpse of this place. And in the paintings the Green Fangs appear sharper, piercing huge land masses and panting white shadows. Besides, my people are superstitious... It suits them to believe that the evil spirits were locked in the bowels of the underground. The rites are simple, they only have to pluck the tusks of the animals they hunt and eat, and keep them in the house, in case one day the evil spirits return...” Derren burst out laughing. “They think a weasel's fangs are going to save them… Anyway, they live to sow, not to reap. They live to sow, not to think.”

“And you to hunt.”

“Yes. And that's why I have to outthink my prey” the hunter shrugged. “I guess you don't have to outthink a bean to sprout a plant.”

They entered the glade dotted with these gigantic rock fangs and surrounded them until they reached the center. The wind blew through the rocky floes causing a soft whistling sound and scratching the throats of the newcomers. The earth was dry and cracked, except at the base of each bluff, where blue flowers looked dull amidst a carpet of yellowish grass.

“And now, what do we do?”

“We climb. It might be easier from above to see where that damn dragonfly is going.”

“Oh, right. It will be easier for it to find us, too,” she commented, mockingly.

After several days together, it was evident that Demi was already feeling more comfortable with the hunter. He had saved her and then armed her with a bow. He had taught her how to make arrows for defense and for hunting. He had sheltered and shod her. At night, the hunter had not tried to lay a hand on her.

Derren supposed that was what the girl feared most, for even he couldn't explain why he had saved her. For his sense of justice? For his hatred of priests? For a moment of glory? For imposing his will? For principles? Maybe a little bit of everything.

They arrived in front of one of the tallest and thickest columns in the middle of the glade and Derren pulled out a rope from his pack. He quickly made two loops and held one out to her.

“Well, how about going up front?”

Demi swallowed and craned her neck to scan the top of the bluff. Then she looked up at Derren, who was smiling at her.

“But... it's almost dark...”

“Precisely because of this, we will be safer up there.”

The hunter took off his boots, tied the bow around his waist and suggested she do the same. Then he made sure everything was in order, adjusted the girl's knot and pulled it tight. She exhaled a half–hearted sigh.

“It's better for the rope to leave a bit of a mark on you than to mark the earth with your body, isn't it?” Derren joked.

Then they set to work. Demi climbed cautiously but with great agility, to the hunter's surprise. He was telling her where to put each foot and on which notches to use her fingers or which vines to hold on to. There were no complications.

The moon shone with excitement as they crested the rocky natural tower. An annoying wind was blowing up there, a little colder than usual. But Demi didn't seem to mind. She lay sprawled on the ground and closed her eyes, as exhausted as she was relieved. Derren surveyed the site, pacing the small expanse of barren land.

There was a bulge. Something sticking out. He approached it and discovered that it was five boulders the size of his head. Someone must have put them there.

His surprise was monumental. His eyes widened like saucers and his breathing stopped for an instant. He stood still, feet nailed to the rock and his muscles tensed involuntarily. Eggs.

Three eggs lay among twigs, tinder and weeds inside a circle of stones. They were snow white and too large to be the eggs of any bird he knew. A thought ran through his mind from ear to ear, then a shiver from head to foot.

They were in the dragonfly's nest. They had climbed up there for shelter. To be safer. And, finally, they were in the lion's den. In the most dangerous place in the forest. But certainly, the place where the dragonfly would find them.

When he returned, he tried to put on a good face and chose not to say anything about his find. He didn't want to worry the girl, who needed a full night's sleep. Demi opened one eye when she heard him approaching.

“Why did you save me?” she asked suddenly, sitting up in her seat.

“I was taught to fight those who burn,” Derren stroked his beard, “not those who are burned. Fire is for prey, not humans.”

“What about those who burn those who burn?” she insisted. “Those are the ones you were taught to fight, too?”

“Those who burn are the powerful. They burn cities, they burn forests, they burn their enemies... Wherever they go, they leave their mark with fire. If they burn each other, so much the better for everyone. The world would be a better place if there were no powerful people,” he sighed. “I don't like power.”

The girl leaned back again, a half–smile on her lips. Soon after, when Demi's breathing became steady and monotone, she decided it was time to act. He grabbed the satchel and walked away again to the curious dragonfly's nest. He wasn't about to let three more of his kind fly across the lands that had seen him grow up. If it was as deadly as it was painted, those hatchlings would be a nightmare for the little kingdom of Green Fangs. Three nightmares.

He took one in each hand and was surprised to note the weight, similar to that of his water–filled wineskin. He leaned out into the void and threw the two weights full of life. Without blinking, he watched as the fall and impact broke them, emptying them of all weight. The weight of life. The life of monsters.

He went back to the nest and put the remaining egg in the bag, wrapped in a cloth that still bore marks of the red blood of the mackerels.