The meditation rooms at the Hunter’s Lodge were small, no more than closets really. The only advantage they had was a lack of decorations to reduce distractions. The doors were thin, though, and there was plenty of chatter to be heard from the hunters visiting the lodge. They came all through the morning to pick up their portions of the smoked meat, drink tea with their brethren, and take care of any gear in need of attention.

I was supposed to be studying Spiral Pierce and Iron Heart, and in fact, the spell books were open in front of me. They described the intent of the qi and its flow through the body, as well as the opportunities for the spells’ growth and common challenges. The books even included artifacts that gave a taste of the qi. For Spiral Pierce, it was a splinter of wood the length and width of a dart. For Iron Heart, a bone disk.

I’d dragged myself out of bed early to make sure I had time to continue my study of the spells before--

“Is Eight around?”

Ah, that was Borba’s voice. He’d arrived.

A hunter answered. “I haven’t seen him. Maybe he went back to Ikfael Glen?”

“Might still be asleep,” another replied. “I heard he was late leaving the lodge last night...”

I tuned out the rest and took a breath to get myself ready. I covered the Spiral Pierce and Iron Heart spell books--they were supposed to be a secret--and brought out the one for Dog’s Agility. Across from me, a portion of Yuki clung to the opposite wall, invisible to the eye.

We are ready.

All right then. Let’s go. I opened the door and made a show of looking around. “Oh, hey, good morning. I thought I heard my name.”

The hunters laughed to see me. I must’ve looked like a gopher popping out of his hole.

“Eight, you were here after all!”

“Didn’t you know? He moved out of Biheila’s house and lives here now.”

“He’s always training, our Eight. So diligent. If only my apprentice were so.”

“What are you studying now, Eight? Still working on the mystery of the Blynx’s blink?”

I waved off their jokes. “No, no. I’m working on Dog’s Agility, and…” I scanned the room, and while I recognized each of the hunters present, the one I knew best among them was… “Borba, I wonder if I could ask for your help.”

He pointed to himself. “Me? But I can’t use magic.”

“I know. I just need another person to compare the flow of qi.”

“Is that something people do?” Borba asked.

“It’s something our Little Pot does,” a hunter answered. “He wants to ask your qi a question!”

That caused another round of jokes, and I grinned along with the rest. When things calmed down, I said, “I’ll just be taking a peek at your qi. It shouldn’t hurt.”

“Sure,” Borba said. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you anyway. We didn’t get a chance to talk much after the hunt.”

Borba found a stray cushion and brought it with him. Fortunately, the meditation room was just big enough for two people to sit across from each other. Now that I had a chance to take a closer look, I saw the bags under his eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked. “You look tired.”

Borba chuckled. “I was about to ask you the same question. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“There’s always something new to learn,” I said.

“True, true. And hard work pays off in the end. I wouldn’t be as successful a hunter as I am if that weren’t so.” Borba gave me a nod and a tense smile. “You can ask me any questions you have, Eight. About anything. My Family’s Talent is for hard work, and we have people in different trades and crafts. Not alchemy or anything fancy like that, but....but...”

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s good to know. For now, though, do you mind if I put my hand on your chest? I want to compare your qi to mine.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Borba said.

I ran qi from my palm into his chest. There was no pattern or intent to it, other than to create a distraction. “Do you feel that?”

Borba shook his head. “Tingles a bit, maybe?”

The wall’s texture behind him shifted as Yuki began to pick their way down and the Camouflage spell compensated. We’re moving.

Borba started to turn around to see what’d caught my interest.

“So,” I said, “what do you think of the lodge’s plans to hunt the lightning bear?”

“I approve,” Borba said, turning back. “The King of the Forest is a danger to the village and one that’s growing stronger every year. I don’t hold much love for Ghitha, but in this, he’s right.”

Going in, Yuki said. We’ll enter through his waist.

“Will we be able to do it?” I asked. “The lodge has tried before and failed.”

Borba’s brows furrowed. “Not alone. We’re like babes before the King’s might--helpless, just helpless. I’ve fought him before, you know, along with the lodge, and...and…” He paused to swallow. His hands had been on his knees before, but now he gesticulated. “The King’s not someone any of us can face. The hunters from Albei, though, all of them are Dawn and Talented. They can do it. You saw the Giant Javelina they caught, and then there was the Musk Ox Alpha.”

Inside the lower dantian now, Yuki reported. Working our way up to the middle and upper dantian. Give us a minute to get there and settle in, and then you can start.

“How about you?” Borba asked. “What do you think about the King of the Forest?”

“I’ve seen him,” I said.

Borba looked surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“Mmm. It was during a storm. The lightning crashed all around him--through him--and he reveled in it; rampaging through the forest and driving all the other animals from their territories.”

“He’s a tyrant. How did you avoid his attention?” Borba asked.

“I have places I can hide,” I said.

His heart rate spiked at the mention of hiding places.

“Oh,” Borba said. “Maybe you can share these hiding places with me? Just in case. One can never have too many fallbacks.”

“Sorry, the most helpful hidey holes to me were the ones just big enough to fit into. You’re too big.”

He’s disappointed; searching for a way to bring up hidden places again. He doesn’t like talking about the lightning bear. The animal is a source of great fear.

I asked a question. “You mentioned that you didn’t like Ghitha, can I ask why?”

Distaste. Fear. Anger. Guilt. There’s a storm rising, disturbing his qi.

Borba’s feelings flickered across his face, but he got them under control and shrugged. “Ghitha is Ghitha. He is like his brother Woldec--their lives centered on their Family above all else. Nothing was good enough for them. Not the lodge and not Voorhei.”

“So you didn’t like Woldec either?”

Envy. Hatred. Guilt. The storm swells.

“Yes. Not many did, but Woldec was part of Voorhei’s foundation. The rock upon which the village’s defense was built. Along with Sheedhi and…” Borba trailed off.

His heart rate is rising. Hatred rising. Anger, hot, pulsing. Qi roiling.

“Grunthen,” I said, finishing the sentence.

“That’s right,” Borba said, clearing his throat. “Him.”

“You didn’t like him either?” I asked.

Borba shook his head. “Grunthen was another who only cared about himself and his Family. Even worse than Woldec and Ghitha. Much worse.”

“Thank you for answering my questions,” I said, playing the innocent. “I’m always so curious. You don’t mind if we continue? It helps to pass the time while I compare our qi.”

He’s trying to control his emotions and hopes this experience will bring you closer together. He feels distaste for what he has to do.

Borba took a deep breath. “I don’t mind. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m glad to help if I can.”

This is a truth.

“We’ve talked about Ghitha, Woldec, and Grunthen, but I’m wondering about Kiertie.”

Despair. A sinking despair. He feels guilty, empty, and… guttered.

Borba’s face goes still. “That was a terrible loss, an avoidable loss. She shouldn’t have gone on that expedition to begin with, but she was always so strong-headed.”

“That’s right--you knew her from before she came to Voorhei. You were both born in the village of Voorhoos.”

His heart is pained. Anguished.

“That’s right,” he said. “Her Family is famous for their Divining Talent. It isn’t strong enough to take them to Albei to join the Diviner’s Lodge there, but they were rich by village standards. Too good for the likes of people like me.”

“So you liked Kiertie?”

“No! What are you saying? We were similar ages, that’s all. Her Family was above mine. There could be nothing between us.”

He’s lying. Badly. An unrequited love turned to ashes.

“I’m curious about revenge,” I said. “It makes for such interesting stories. Did you know that I love stories?”

“No,” Borba said, “but I’m not surprised.”

He’s wondering where you’re going with this. Focusing on controlling his emotions.

“I find stories fascinating,” I said, continuing. “They reveal so much. Anyway, many stories focus on revenge, and I’d like to know… let’s pretend that you were in love with Kiertie and someone harmed her. Would you protect her? Take revenge on her behalf if she was injured or killed?”

“No!”

Yes!

“I mean, she was someone I knew, so I’d want to see justice for her, but that’s all.”

Another lie. There’s a terrible guilt consuming him.

Borba pulled away, breaking the connection to my hand. “I think we’re done here. I can’t stay any longer. There’s… there’s Family work to attend to.”

A lie.

“I understand,” I said. “Thank you for the time you’ve given. It’s helped a lot. You don’t mind if I come find you again if I need more help? Answer a few more questions to pass the time?”

He’s uncomfortable. Guilt permeates his qi. He wants to get away from these questions and the feelings that arise as a result of them.

“I don’t mind, but I may be busy. We have to prepare for the King’s hunt after all.” He paused to think, his brow troubled. Reluctantly, he continued. “About the stories of revenge, it’s not good to listen to them too much. There are consequences the stories never explain.” He sighed. “I suppose that’s all. I’ll see you later, Eight.”

Borba fled from the meditation room and the lodge. And he took the portion of Yuki with him. I closed the meditation room door and closed my eyes.

###

Borba hurried through the village, and his greetings to his neighbors brusque. That gathered some looks at his back, but he’d mend those fences later. Right now, his gut ached.

The questions that Eight asked had pierced through him as surely as any spear or arrow. It was almost like the boy knew what’d happened and intentionally goaded him, but that was foolish. As Talented as the boy was, he was still just a boy.

Borba sealed the thought away and the turmoil in his belly along with it. Hunting required a clear mind and a steady purpose. He’d continue to rely on those skills to see him through.

For now, there was work to be done, and Borba found refuge in mending the strap on his backpack, weeding the garden, feeding the chickens and goats, and training his fighting forms. He’d been younger during the last lightning bear hunt, and the experience scarred him. He vowed to do better this time for his Family, lodge, and village. He had so very much to make up for.

A breath--he took a breath to find his steadiness again--and kept working.

###

We didn’t learn anything new through the rest of the morning and afternoon, so I had Yuki watch Borba while I went back to Bihei’s longhouse. The kids had left a pot of corn porridge for me before heading out to work in the fields. I ate it, but didn’t really taste the food.

I’d liked Borba, and it upset me that he was involved in Grunthen and Bindesei’s deaths. Especially poor Bindesei. He’d done nothing wrong; dying for nothing more than waking up in the night and looking outside.

Clearly, Ghitha knew about Borba’s involvement in the deaths and used the information to blackmail him. Was Borba the killer or an accomplice? Was Ghitha also involved in the murders? Or did he somehow stumble across Borba’s involvement and use the information against him?

I didn’t have the answers to those questions. Not yet. But hopefully tonight, once Borba went to sleep, we’d pull them from his dreams.

###

Kiertie was beautiful. There was no denying it.

When Ollie/Eight encountered her zombie inside the Cave of Origins, the Talent camera said she was Comely. The Talent was struck through at the time, but now, in Borba’s dream, we saw her as she was: a young woman who could’ve had any villager she wanted and did, playing as if in a field of flowers.

Borba had been one, briefly.

He broke in two when she eventually found a Talented husband. The event wasn’t unexpected-- her Family demanded it--but all the same, in his anguish, Borba fled Voorhoos and went to join a splinter of his own Family in Voorhei.

He joined the Hunter’s Lodge and found success there. While he wasn’t as powerful as some of the other hunters, hard work was a friend to him. It helped him cultivate a steadiness that carried him toward his path to perfection. The lodge recognized his efforts and made him a team leader.

Borba learned to be content. Until Kiertie appeared at his door one day, this time a widow with a daughter in tow. Her comeliness had only grown over the years, becoming more refined with age, and his heart surged. His mouth tangled. He felt like he’d been struck once more by the lightning bear.

There was a moment of fleeting hope, quickly crushed. She’d tracked down Borba for his knowledge, not his company. In her pouch was a map, and she needed the expertise of strong hunters to find the treasure to which it pointed. Borba was too ordinary, but surely he knew others who could help?

Hating himself, Borba pointed her at Woldec, the strongest in the lodge.

Kiertie and Woldec… none could deny that they were a match. She saw herself in him, and he in her. The two drank each other like corn liquor. Their heads huddled together became a common sight within the lodge.

Borba’s longing had never died. Being near Kiertie was both bliss and bane. Yet, he kept his turmoil hidden. While he lived and died with every word she spoke, he continued to support the wellbeing of his Family, lodge, and village. And if he stayed close to Kiertie and gave extra weight to her requests, what could he do? He was an imperfect man, and the path to perfection was long and arduous.

So, when Kiertie asked for help in finding the eilesheile, Borba felt honored to be one of the few to know the true nature of the treasure marked on her map. To keep the secret from his team, he’d head out separately to maintain the expedition’s fall back position near the sugar maker’s fortified house in the forest.

Borba would watch over their supplies and be ready to assist in case of trouble. The expedition’s goal was to sneak past while the King of the Forest hibernated, but a hunter was prepared for all eventualities. The sugar maker was a cranky old man, but if there was trouble, he’d be obligated to take them in behind his walls.

On the day of the expedition, Borba waited at his assigned duty with his heart in his throat. Morning turned into afternoon, and afternoon into evening. Instead of easing, his nerves grew more and more taut with worry for Kiertie and her daughter Biaka’s safety. Wrapped in a cloak to protect against the winter cold, into the deep hours of the night, he waited.

A sound at the sugar maker’s gate roused him. Had the expedition returned without him seeing? Were they safe? Did they find the eilesheile?

Borba rushed between the trees and through the gate. He found a panicked Grunthen alone. The skin on his face was blistered red. His clothes smelled of smoke and char.

Where were Kiertie and Biaka? Woldec and Akbash?

Grunthen didn’t know. He’d left them behind.

The King of the Forest unexpectedly awoke as they were sneaking past. The air shook with rage at the hunters trespassing in his cave. Lightning splashed against the cave walls, much too much for Grunthen’s Talent to handle. He ran, while the others were blocked by the King’s bulk and forced to retreat deeper into the cave.

The coward had left them behind, but he made excuses and stuttered the explanation for his cowardice. If he stayed and fought, the village would lose two element-touched instead of one. Woldec’s loss was unfortunate. And the others (including Kiertie) didn’t matter. They weren’t real hunters after all. Grunthen’s survival was more important than theirs.

A wave of anger overcame Borba, turning his vision red.

He was an ordinary hunter; one who only knew how to work hard. Nothing he did could ever compare to Woldec or Grunthen’s feats. His lack of magic and lackluster Talents would forever keep him outside the consideration of someone like Kiertie.

All Borba had was practice and the Skills he’d trained, which is how he was able to step silently behind the other hunter and draw his knife without notice. How he knew to stab behind the kidney and immediately follow up by drawing the knife’s edge across Grunthen’s sputtering throat.

It was impossible for Borba to kill the King of the Forest--to save Kiertie--but he could take revenge for her death.

The courtyard was still. Borba only heard himself panting, his mind spiraling. Rage spun through him, but panic began to blend with it, as well as the realization of what he’d just done. Two of Voorhei’s element-touched were now dead, one by his hand.

And Kiertie was dead. Horror choked him.

Borba ran, and panic took him through the forest unthinking. Where was his steadiness? Gone. Gone and running mindlessly. Except, not completely. An impulse pointed him toward the lightning bear’s cave; to overcome his fear and throw himself at Kiertie’s killer and die alongside her.

His steps slowed; his breath coming hard now. The fear was strong, and Borba realized there was in him a desire to yet live. To save his Family from the grief of his death and atone for his wrongdoing. To do so, though, he’d have to hide his crime. Borba would do no good to Family, lodge, or village if he were exiled in retribution for Grunthen’s death.

He turned back. There was Cleansing Fire in the expedition’s supplies. It could be used to dispose of Grunthen’s body. But where to put the remains? Voorhei’s hunters were skilled, and some had uncanny Talents.

Borba grappled with the problem, but it was solved for him. Time had given him the space to think and wonder about the sugar maker, but when he went looking, the old man was missing. The compound was empty of life. All, except for Borba.

There was no reason for the sugar maker to be out in the middle of the night. Had he died among his maple trees? It wouldn’t be a surprising fate. Being out in the forest alone was foolish for someone who wasn’t a hunter.

Borba wasn’t one to ignore good fortune, even when it came amidst tragedy. He placed Grunthen’s body in the sugar maker’s bed and set the Cleansing Fire on his chest.

It should appear as if the sugar maker died in a fire. There would be no sign of Grunthen anywhere.

A cold sweat soaked Borba’s back as he watched the flames rise. The sinking in his stomach. He wanted to scream in anguish, but a hunter’s discipline required silence in the forest. Many times he had to wipe his eyes clear.

The forest let him be, almost as if it knew what he’d done and blessed his actions. Or mocked them. Like it knew the village was weaker now, and there’d be time later to take advantage.

The passage home was a blur. Safe in his bed, he tossed and turned all through the rest of the night. Then, the next morning, he found Ghitha at his door. The man’s eyes were dead.

He knew everything.