I did my best to ignore the flashes and flickering of small bursts of flame all around the meeting hall as Rawley went over the latest poison recipe. Ever since the glow stones had faded out the evening before they had been going off as people attempted to see better without wasting firewood. You could tell the difference between the Candles and Sparks given that the Sparks’ bursts of flame only stayed lit for a second or three after each snap while the Candles’ lasted between ten and twenty seconds. Irritation ran high throughout the wide room as the continuous sound of snapping and the inconvenience of the repetitive action frayed nerves. Space around the cooking fires was at a premium with people trading goods and favors for a chance to use the relatively consistent lighting.

Rawley had chosen to follow the Grandmothers’ example though and focused on teaching skills that didn’t require light. The Grandmothers might have an audience of hundreds listening to their stories echo out from the dark stage, but she had important lessons to teach to an audience of one. Much as I would have an audience of two later and decisions to make about how much information to share.

Rawley reaching out and gently flicked me on the forehead. “Have you grown bored of poison craft in only a few weeks?”

I pulled my focus from the hall and placed it back on her. Shaking my head, I gestured vaguely to the crowd filling up the room behind her. “No, of course not. There’s just…I’ll pay better attention now.”

“Hmm.” Rawley’s calm but critical gaze raked over me. “Normally, you’re no more likely to be distracted than a dog from a particularly meaty bone.”

“I’m fine. Do you want me to recite the recipe for crumple grass and dew blooms?”

She ignored my attempt to distract her with the poison she had been teaching me. “I think I’ll wait for you to tell me what has you in knots. Otherwise, I fear everything I have to say about crumple moss and dew blooms will go into one ear and out the other.”

I froze, shaken that I could make such a big mistake when it came to plants, before my mind caught up with what she had said and I scowled. “There’s no such thing as crumple moss.”

Rawley chuckled. “No, but your hesitation speaks to how little you were paying attention.”

My scowl transformed into a glower but my mentor sat quietly in front of me, unperturbed. I might not like getting called out or my lack of focus, but she had made her point well and was content to wait until she got her answer. It was clear which of us had the upper hand. Still, I kept my mouth such for as long as I could while I sorted through my options.

I could keep the blame on the snaps and small licks of fire but the likelihood that she would accept them as the full reason for my distraction was minimal at best. I had kept my focus through the stress of Flickermark’s ravines, after all, and through rapid fire quizzes after long days of exhausting training. Not to mention that she was teaching me poison craft and Rawley knew enough to know that little could shake a childhood of training and lifelong interest of focusing on plants.

She might accept those small distractions in part if I compounded it with worries about my rapidly approaching future in the Seedling Palace. I couldn’t allude to the…loss of her and Fellen, of course, but the sheer number of unknowns mixed with the significance of the change would give anyone pause. I might have some limited knowledge about the sects and the goddess’s chosen and myths and legends passed down for generations, but nothing really filled in the black pit of information that was the Seedling Palace. Rawley could understand being sidetracked by the need and comfort of planning even though there was no substantial one I could institute. Then again, that would probably be when she prompted the importance of flexibility.

Perhaps if I mixed in my doubt about sharing information with Prevna and Wren? Rawley wanted wanted me to trust more people of course, but she was still a huntress and understood that charging blindly into a situation was rarely the correct answer. It would be foolish to handout all of the little knowledge I had on the first meeting, especially when I had no basis for understanding how they might respond to what my blessing was. There was taking ownership of what my mark did, and then there was being smart about it. I also wasn’t decided on if I should reveal my history as a healer’s apprentice or not. And besides, sharing too much at once could imply a closer connection than was safe.

Nor did Rawley need to know about the baseless, idiotic nervousness that fluttered in my belly. That was certainly something I refused to acknowledge as it helped nothing and there was no point to it. She was just another girl and I already knew the dangers of caring, the traps and potential devastation of it. We could be allies and work together despite whether she liked me or not. In my head I pictured the moths in my belly and ruthlessly crushed them in one fist. There was a brief moment of respite—then one of the moths slipped free, unharmed, and kept right on fluttering.

I ignored the small annoyance and organized the half-truth I would placate Rawley with in my head instead. I was just about to speak when soft footsteps made their way through the gloom toward us; I recognized Crest once she was a short ways away. She settled next to Rawley and set down the three bowls of food she was balancing on the ground between us.

She glanced between us with a wry smile and slightly raised eyebrows. “Is this part of training? Or did I miss the part where a couple of ice folk slipped in and stole your tongues?”

Rawley brushed her fingers over Crest’s thigh in a discrete gesture of affection as she leaned back to rest some of her weight on that hand. “No children’s tales attacked us this time I fear, though perhaps next time they’ll appear to suit your fancy.” Rawley indicated me with a gesture. “I was waiting out my apprentice to see what had her tied in knots today.”

Crest gave me an intrigued look before focusing back on Rawley. “So it’s not training either, then?”

“Not in the traditional sense.”

Crest shrugged one shoulder, dismissing Rawley’s qualification playfully. “Then let’s eat. You know you’ll win in the end eventually, so why not get your answer later when you both have full bellies and the rest of the group aren’t on their way?”

“You make a fair point.”

“I know.” Crest winked at me as she picked up a bowl and placed it in Rawley’s left hand. “Hot food always wins over your cryptic waiting games. Did you hear that the funny stepping sheep might not have been reserved a place in the holding pen?”

I didn’t try to thank her for her blatant interruption and refocusing of Rawley’s attention, I could tell she didn’t expect gratitude or for me to so obviously give away the ploy. Still, I did feel somewhat grateful that she had saved me from trying to blunder through Rawley’s patient, perceptive attention. Even if only for the midday meal. So, instead I picked up my bowl and quietly ate as Keili and Veris joined the group in the middle of a debate about how long they thought the storm would last. Fellen and Nole arrived a handful of minutes after them, and the conversation changed again to complaints and tips for training in the darkened, crowded hall. Huntresses, I learned, were adamant about keeping up daily physical training even when they didn’t have apprentices to teach and there was only enough room to safely do stretches and slow practice routines in place.

I got up and left for the alcove as soon as I finished eating and Fellen recounted everything she wanted to tell me. I saw Rawley recognize my quick exit, but she merely gave a look that said she would reopen her inquiry at our next lesson and let me go without a word.

I was the first one to the alcove for the meeting which brought on an unexpected anxiety: should I sit or stand a certain way or in a certain spot for when the other two arrived? Once the alcove covering fell into place there wasn’t really a spot that promoted visibility—everything was as dark as a cave at midnight. I hovered just inside the alcove for a moment or two before I quelled the desire to fidget and went to stand where I had the day before, near where Fellen had sat when we ate together.

Prevna arrived first. She stayed near the entrance, holding a shallow bowl full of embers. She jolted a bit when the soft, weak glow cast by them fell on me but she quickly recovered.

I gestured to the bowl. “I’m surprised you were allowed to take those.”

She met my gaze, nonchalant. “Everyone was too focused on their food or gossip to care much about what I borrowed or not.”

I took care not to show my surprise at her gall and skill to steal the coals in front of all the people crowding around the cooking fires. It was more brazen of a move than I initially thought her capable of. However, I didn’t get to dwell on her theft for long as Wren pushed past the alcove covering a few moments later, the small brown bird resting on her shoulder. She slipped past Prevna and stood opposite of me; confident, easy walk with expressive brown eyes and a quick smile. I clamped down on the urge to give her a small answering smile and kept still as she glanced quickly over me and Prevna in the dim light.

Wren focused back on me, still smiling. “So you’re the one everyone is talking about. Gimley, right? After that story, I’m glad I wasn’t the one who got lost in Flickermark.” She huffed out a laugh and held up a hand to her bird. It hopped onto her fingers. “I’m Wren and this is Chirp. Like my name he’s a wren, and we’ve already heard all the jokes that causes.”

I blinked as I tried to reconcile how sheerly approachable she seemed with my own desire to stay distant. If I wasn’t careful to stay on my guard I could see how easily she could sweep me up into her own pace. Even Prevna had already relaxed somewhat despite our initial prickly interaction.

Before I could confirm my name Wren had moved on already. “Anyways, we’re sharing information, right? I don’t know much about the Seedling Palace, but I can tell you about my blessing and skills since that’ll be important as allies. As you probably guessed I can talk to birds though I get along best with wrens and other song birds. Other than that my best skills are probably elk riding and navigation—I trained under my tribe’s Navigator.”

She gave away information like it was nothing. There was no hesitation to mentioning what her blessing did or any indication that she knew we were barely allies in name only at this point. Her entire attitude was foreign to me and I couldn’t decide if she was simply thoughtless or confident in her own abilities.

Regardless, I now knew that she belonged to a runner tribe as they were only ones to have elk and Navigators—a person who was normally second in command to the tribe leader and whose sole job was to keep the tribe from getting lost and finding resources like fresh water if necessary. Though most tribes did the same run year after year and the huntresses knew a decent amount about navigation for their hunts, so I heard that there were some debates about whether the position was necessary.

It was also interesting to note that she didn’t seem to react to Prevna other than to note her presence. Most runner tribes had an even stronger distaste for Picker bands than the waterhole tribes because they were more likely to be looted year after year.

Prevna shared next, and I felt unease start to pool in my stomach as I realized they would expect me to be just as open about my blessing at the very least. She said, “My blessing makes me poison-touched. I can soak up natural poisons from plants and animals and then expel them into a living target. My training wasn’t as formal as yours but I’m good with a sling, wrestling, and tracking. I’m also a fair hand at leather work.”

They both turned expectantly to me, but rather than give them the answer they wanted, I asked, “Do either of you have any insight about the Seedling Palace? Or whisper women? The sects?”

“The band was more concerned about finding shelter and food, and the other bands we met didn’t have a reason to be knowledgeable about all of that either. Whisper women directly serve the goddess and are revered; if you have a blessed mark you get to join them—that’s all I needed to know,” Prevna said.

Wren shrugged as Chirp fluttered back to her shoulder. “I mean I know that there’s six sects—the Caretakers and Scales and whatever else—but I figured we’d learn more about that once we got to the Seedling Palace. The only time I’ve gotten remotely close to a whisper woman was at funerals and when my mother took me to see the procession. Did you learn more when you were at the Grove?”

I stared at them. They were clueless. Allies might be helpful, but not when they were blatantly trying to pull information from me. How could they put no effort into learning more about the whisper women before this? I had been taught by a healer and yet somehow I knew more than them.

I didn’t want to share what I knew with them, didn’t want to reward what could only be a severe lack of ambition or discipline or both. Prevna’s situation I could understand better, but she still could have asked Grandmother questions once she came to the tribe.

“If you were so set on learning more at the Seedling Palace I won’t ruin that goal now. Instead, as your ally, I’ll share what you did. I’m well-versed in herb lore and myths, and I’m being trained by a lone huntress as well so I have some skill with sling, spear, tracking, and traps.”

I saw no reason to inform them about the healer skills I could no longer use or the poison craft I was currently learning. I had already listed more skills than both of them combined. It hurt a little to see the disappointment on both their faces at my refusal to share more with them, but Prevna’s annoyance quickly caught up with her which fueled my own.

She stopped me with a question as I moved to leave. “Aren’t you forgetting one thing?”

Wren elaborated on her question, “What’s your blessing?”

I gave her a tight, small smile. “I’m resilient.”

And then I left despite knowing they probably wanted to talk strategy or get reassurances that we were actually going to be allies. Their skills could be useful in the future, but I also wasn’t in the mood to waste time with people who seemed goalless—no matter how pretty or intriguing they were.