"I wish I could go back," Zach said, not expecting a response. He was just thinking aloud to kill some time while Riley got dressed a few feet away. She moved slowly since her arm was still weak from her injury, but she had mostly recovered thanks to plenty of rest and additional visits to the Healers. Zach had made sure to go with her every time, as emotional support.

"To Sunrise? To the kitchens?" Riley asked, feigning cluelessness. Favoring her left arm, she fastened a few buttons at the waist of her long tan skirt, then moved to the ones on her blouse. It was bright red, even more vibrant than her hair.

"To my world, you goof." He sighed. "But not for myself. I just want to bring back information that could help New Albion… especially with the elves out there and up to no good."

Riley moved on to styling her hair in the mirror. Sometimes she envied the simplicity of men's fashion, but then she remembered how much she liked the way women looked when they were all fancied up. As she worked, she said, "What would you bring back? Techniques for making terrible weapons? That 'eel-a-tricity' power source you've mentioned?"

"I don't know. I'd probably spend a few days studying my options, to make sure whatever knowledge I bring back is useful and doesn't upset the status quo too bad." Then he clarified, "Oh, 'status quo' means the way things are right now."

"I know that. We have Latin in this world, even if only mages and merchants really use it."

Zach sat up and stared at her, his interest piqued. "Really? Are you fluent?"

Other than whatever had been adopted into other languages, Latin was basically a dead language in his world. If it was still alive here, he could potentially hear it spoken the way it had been thousands of years ago. A language nerd like Erin would probably give anything to hear it. The thought of his friend brought another pang of longing for home.

Riley shook her head. "No, and I don't know anyone who is fluent. It's just a bunch of flashy words that academics like to toss around to feel special."

Zach chuckled. "Exactly the same as my world then."

He watched Riley as she continued to get ready. She was always beautiful in his eyes, but it was truly special when she went all out. Her red hair shimmered from some herbal shampoo she'd used and her vibrant green eyes were especially entrancing thanks to a bit of this world's version of mascara. She looked gorgeous, and he felt like he didn't deserve her. He wasn't that special. His only claim to fame, his connection to the other world, didn't even work anymore.

"Going back to the previous topic," Riley said. "Call me selfish, but you're not going to get much sympathy from me when you say you want to spend several days in your world. I enjoy having you all to myself every day." She realized the implications of Zach's power: to spend the night in his world, he'd have to sleep in contact with someone. The only friend he ever talked about was another woman, and the jealousy Riley felt was undeniable.

"Oh, about that…" Zach started, fidgeting with the cuffs on his new dress shirt. "It turns out that I'm going to need to learn magic to use up the mana inside me that might be keeping me in this world. It sounds like it will take a lot of my time, so I won't be around as much."

Riley turned to face him, eyes wide. "Oooh, I can teach you! I'm no master, but I can show you the basics."

Zach pulled at his sleeves, which suddenly felt too tight even though they had fit just fine earlier. "Um, I was going to work with Milo, to learn some advanced tricks to get up to high-mana spells more quickly."

"But you hate him," Riley said simply.

Zach nodded.

"And you love me."

He smiled and nodded again.

She grinned and grabbed his arm. "So screw him and pick me."

He smiled at her clumsy use of his world's slang. He had taught her 'screw' as an alternative to the similar but far more offensive F-word. He didn't want to be the progenitor of that particular swear word in this world. Though now that Zach thought about it, he had used it in front of Milo after the stampede, and Milo didn't seem confused. Maybe they already had it?

Then he frowned. "I wish I could, but the Princess wants my learning accelerated, and Milo is the best one for the job. He's apparently a prodigy, despite being a total ass."

Riley held his arm close. "Then study with him during the day, then come back to our room and practice with me all night."

Zach raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to sound lewd?"

"That depends. Is it working?"

Zach stood up and kissed her on the lips. "Yes, it's working. Let's get going before we get too distracted and miss our reservation." Zach had been keeping it quiet, but the first payment from his mining claim had come in, and it was a sizable sum of money. For his first purchase, he'd decided to splurge on dress clothes and dinner at a fancy restaurant. Fine dining had never appealed to him back in his world, but he hadn't had a girlfriend back then, or a stack of gold Crowns burning a hole in his pocket.

Far to the east, where the sun had already set for the day, was a forest that stretched from horizon to horizon only rarely interrupted by subtle pockets of civilization. Elves didn't clear-cut woodlands for natural resources the way humans tended to, due at least in part to their smaller population. Alone in a clearing between densely packed trees stood a massive wooden building, its roof supported by whole pine logs. Woodsmoke drifted out of a chimney at one end of the longhouse, but otherwise everything was eerily still and silent.

The inside of the lodge was decorated with dozens of trophies of slain monsters. A high backed chair, almost a throne, sat between two of the most terrible creatures on display: bear-like monsters with spikes of bone protruding from their faces, shoulders, and arms. The people of New Albion called them Dire Bears, but the elves called them Ohkwari.

A man with dark brown hair, pointed ears, and deep-set eyes plucked a beaded necklace from where it had been hanging on an eight-inch bear claw. Then he sat down on the throne and stared into the fireplace, idly running the necklace through his fingers. Some beads were polished gold, some were precious gems, and others appeared to be finger bones, the same size as his own. The man's peace was interrupted when two elves stepped in through a door on the west end of the building.

The elves both wore fitted leather outfits of muted tan and green, well suited for hiding in natural settings, and their faces were both hidden behind simple cloth masks of the same green. One of the pair kneeled and said, "Sire, we've come to give our report." The language he spoke was nothing like King's Speech, having originated long before outsiders arrived on the continent. These elves spoke The Tongue, the unified result of hundreds of tribes coming together and sharing their languages, their cultures, and their bloodlines over the last 2000 years.

The man on the throne sat up straight and gave them his attention. He recognized both scouts, but didn't know their names. He didn't need to, unless they refused an order. Then he'd learn their names and those of their families. He'd track them down and he'd make them all suffer. "Proceed."

The scout nodded. "The ritual test was successful and the Casters learned much. They said that the plan is ready for the next stage, at your word."

The other scout, who seemed to be female based on her slightly slimmer figure and higher pitched voice, said, "The Warriors also reported that they are ready to proceed. Morale is high and supplies have been secured for any eventuality, including heavy snowfall. Shall we return and give the signal to begin?"

"No," the man said, and both scouts flinched in fear. He rose, gently placed his necklace back on the bear's menacing claw, and added, "Nothing is 'ready' until I have seen it for myself."

Then he closed his eyes and whispered something too quiet and too fast to hear. A dim glow enveloped his body and his form started to warp and twist and blur. The female scout looked away from the unpleasant sight. Within seconds, the elf had become human: a nondescript merchant with short greying hair, a full beard, and warm green eyes. Even his clothes had changed, and he took a moment to adjust their fit and placement. The leather he had been wearing had been replaced with actual wool and cotton by the magic spell.

He spoke and his voice was different too. "I'll go survey the target. I don't need accompaniment." He loosened his collar and kneeled to check the laces on his newly conjured boots, moving like an aged human instead of a trained elven assassin. He smiled at the two scouts and a terrifying hint of his true personality showed through the disguise. "I enjoy the hunt more when I'm alone."

He didn't need to explain what was meant by 'the hunt'. Every elf knew of Valren's twisted predilections. He practiced his disguises by infiltrating human settlements, then he murdered anyone who saw through him. As his skills grew and his deceptions held more often, he had started to kill for fun. No one but Valren knew how many humans, presumed by their people to be lost or killed by monsters, had actually been hunted by the merciless shapeshifter.

"Await my return here. I shouldn't be more than a day." Valren took a moment to cast another spell to enhance his legs for the long run ahead, then he exited the lodge alone.

After the door was firmly closed, the male scout remarked, "I'll never get used to that." He waved a hand over his face and body to indicate the transformation. "Such skilled Weavers are astounding. It's a pity so many fled the Tribe, because we could really use—"

The woman slapped him on the shoulder and hissed, "Never mention that aloud. If Valren ever heard you, he'd execute you himself. And you know his… tastes."

His face went pale. "Right. Good point."

The female scout placed a hand on his forearm and gave a gentle squeeze, a small measure of intimacy from a near-stranger. "Since we've got time to spare, want to try for a child?"

"Yeah, we should. Births were even lower this year." He glanced around the room, which was filled with grisly trophies and dark implications. "Under the stars?"

She nodded and said, "Good idea." Then she thought, Maybe the stars will take pity on our dying race.