I forgot the loaves of bread.

The thought occurs to me just as I reach the fields on the outskirts of Veymaw. The sun has begun its descent, bathing the miles of crops in a warm pink hue. I consider going back, but I don't particularly like the thought of running into Jakob or Raven again.

Though unintentional, conversations of the upcoming Red Moon feel like a nasty taunt. It's less than a month away and I'm no closer to finding the deserters than when I started looking six months ago.

I scan the rows of crops for Casimir. Most workers seem to have gone home for the evening. But ever since he finished school a couple of years ago, Casimir worked hard, impressing his boss, Jyro, so much, he moved up the ranks quickly.

Finally, I spot him halfway down a row. He wears a long-sleeved buttoned shirt, once white, now an aged beige. His weed whacker swings in the air as he hacks at a thick vine twisting around a tomato plant.

I sidle up to him, nudging him with my elbow. "Hey."

He glances at me sideways before hacking at the weeds again, muscles rippling beneath his shirt. "You know you're not allowed in the fields, Frey."

"I don't see Jyro anywhere around. Besides, aren't you done yet?"

He stands, rising to his full height—a few inches above me. Sweat soaks his shirt, darkens his golden hair. "You weren't at home when I left this morning."

"Couldn't sleep, I went for a walk."

"At night?" His thick eyebrows are turned down in disapproval, honey eyes searching my face. It's a disapproving look I know all too well. "Frey."

"I had a bad dream about Samu."

His gaze softens. I hate lying to him, especially about this, but it's the only thing I can say that will keep him from pressing the issue. "Come on," he says, tossing the weed whacker. "Let's go home. I'll make soup."

"Yeah, about that, I forgot the loaves."

"I knew you would. I picked a few up this morning." He throws an arm over my shoulder and knuckles my head.

"Ugh." I shove him away with a scowl. "You stink."

We walk back towards the village together, Casimir lecturing me about being late to class when I complain about Professor Fin. He's always been this way, right from when we were children. I first met him when my father adopted my little brother from the orphanage. I was only eight, but Casimir was ten, hanging off the gate as he watched us wander in. With his golden hair and honey eyes, I remember thinking he was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen.

"You have to take your shoes off," he'd said when we stepped inside. My father offered him a smile that Casimir didn't return, following us all the way down to Lady Trunes', the orphanage directors', office. He'd waited outside with me, scowling when I started to pick at the fraying rug.

We got my little brother and left, but I walked past the orphanage each day on my way home from school hoping to catch a glimpse of him. My little crush was the reason for the formation of our friendship—I wouldn't leave him alone. And even now, ten years later, when everything in my life has changed, he's still there, ready to scowl at my bad decisions. If he found out where I've been going at night, he'd never let me out of his sight again.

It's dark by the time we reach his cabin, and Casimir starts on the soup right away. The cabin isn't big—two rooms with a bathroom and a connected kitchen at the front door—but after what happened at the Red Moon last year, my father's cabin was handed over to the council and I was left with nothing. I didn't want it anyway. The dents in the floor, the dark stains on the door frames—they were all vivid reminders of what happened that night as I hid in the cupboard, watching through the crack in the wood.

Casimir cleared room in his cabin for me without a question. He was already my close friend, but that night, something bonded us closer—we were both orphans. Now, we're family.

I move over to clear the table. Rusted bolts litter it, clanging against one another. "What's with the bolts?"

Casimir glances over his shoulder. "I traded with Jyro for some new bolts, but they're all rusted—they won't hold."

"Why do you need new bolts?"

He brings the pot over to the table and sets it down, passing me a bowl. "You know why."

I say nothing, reaching over to serve him and then myself. I don't tell him that he's wasting his time or money. My father had new bolts, he had a set of daggers, extra security on the windowpanes. It didn't matter. If the shifters want something, nothing will stop them from taking it.

After dinner we lie on the roof, watching as the stars start to dot the night sky. Casimir dangles his legs in the hole we climbed through—it's over the foyer. He accidentally made it last year when he was trying to fix a leak. We always meant to fix it, but never did.

There's a bite to the night air, a sure sign that we're heading into autumn. Once winter breaks, we'll surely have to cover the hole and won't be able to come up here anymore. The thought makes my heart squeeze. I tug the scratchy blanket to my chest and tilt my head sideways to rest against his shoulder.

"There," Casimir says, pointing to the tree top a couple metres away from us. I squint my eyes. "Do you see?"

The leaves rustle. I strain my ears till a bird song wafts towards us. "Hyace," I say.

"No way. It's too warm in the year for a hyace to be nesting. It's an azu."

"Since when did you become an expert on the seasonal nesting of birds?"

"I thought you'd know by now that I'm an expert in everything."

I roll my eyes. "I'm telling you it's a hyace."

He's right that they're more common in the winter, but my father's old cabin was nestled further in the forest. I fell asleep to the songs of hyace more times than I can count.

"Alright then." Casimir shifts so he's sitting up and gathers a stone from the guttering on the roof. He stands up, wobbling slightly, before launching the stone at the tree. The bird scatters from the branches with a squawk, revealing dark blue wings and an elongated beak.

Azu.

"Shut up," I say before Casimir can say anything.

"I told you, an expert at everything."

I shove him. He loses his footing and slips, grabbing my leg as an anchor before he falls off the roof. I splutter a laugh. "Not so cocky now, are you?"

"Shut up."

He drags himself back to where he was before, pulling some of the blanket for himself. I stare up at the sky, the moon appearing from behind the cloud. It's nearly full, bright silver. Before, when it was warmer, Casimir and I would spend the evenings at the lake. He trained me, teaching me to use a dagger and fight, and then we'd finish by swimming. Cadence would come sometimes, but she'd sit on the shore and watch us. With the change of season, it feels like everything else is changing, too.

"Do you think Jyro would care if you skipped work tomorrow and we spent the day at the lake?"

"Yes, but not as much as your professors would," he says. "You're almost done with school, Frey, don't kick up a fuss now."

"It's so pointless."

"It's not."

"It is. Everything they teach us I've heard a thousand times before. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, harvesting. The treaty is a blessing, the shifters are good rulers, this arrangement is fair when we all know who got the short end of the stick. It's all a load of rubbish."

He nudges my shoulder. "You shouldn't say stuff like that."

"Why not?"

"You know why. If someone were to hear you and report—"

"Unless you're planning on reporting me to the council, I think I'm safe. Something tells me the hyace won't either."

"It's an azu," he corrects.

"Whatever. There's no point hearing the same thing over and over when I already know I'm going to end up as a harvester."

Casimir sighs, throwing an arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer. "It's not that bad, you know. Plus, we'll get to spend more time together."

I wrinkle my nose. "Along with a bunch of sweaty men."

"You'll soon realise, as I did, that's one of the great things about it," he says. I smack his shoulder with a laugh. "We'll be alright, Frey. I promise."

A thick cloud moves over the moon, a shadow covering Veymaw. I take a shaky breath, thinking of what's to come. If I'm able to find the deserters, working in the fields won't be a worry at all.

#

The bitter cold of the night should warn me away from the forge, but I don't listen.

Traders from Ayrith have left, headed back home, leaving only those from Elel tonight—the thieves and criminals. I find myself scoffing at them as I wait at the edge of the trees. Silly, really, when technically I'm a thief too.

I checked Casimir's room before I left. He was on his side, mouth slightly open, fast asleep. We'd spent longer than I expected on the roof, and though I knew I needed to take advantage of the entire night to search, I didn't want to cut our time short.

The heavy knot in my stomach only grows as the Red Moon gets closer, each second feeling like a looming shadow encroaching. Being around Casimir eases it somewhat.

I'm torn between fear of if I do find them, and disappointment if I don't. One year I've been preparing for this. If there's any time of year the deserters will show themselves, it's now. And I can't miss my chance.

From my spot in the trees, I eye the rooves of the buildings and the crowd below. Somewhere amongst them, a brawl breaks out, shouts rising in the air. I pay them no mind, keeping my eyes trained on the streets looking for something out of place. Something different. Just like last night.

The fog thickens as the night ticks by. My legs cramp from being bent as I perch on the branch, gripping the tree trunk. Out of the corner of my eye, there's a movement on one of the rooves. Two dark figures slink through the night. It takes me three seconds to jump from the tree, and another twenty to scale the closest building, hoisting myself up using the windowpane as a foothold. Atop the roof, I lower to a crouch, narrowing my eyes to see through the thick fog.

Movement.

I follow them, trying to keep up as the fog swallows them and spits them out. My vision fails me in the darkness. If I could somehow just follow them to wherever they're headed.

I can't get too close, but I can't risk losing them in the fog, either. They must be meeting other deserters, where else would they be sneaking off to? Are they scheming for the Red Moon? Are they planning an attack?

They drop down from the roof into a side street. My feet hammer against the rooves as I jump to another roof, desperate to reach them. The roof they dropped off leads into a pool of fog, the ground not even visible.

I clamber awkwardly down the windowpane, my feet slamming against the earth, dust rising around me. My heart hammers against my ribcage as I peer around. Voices waft from the main street, laughter, and shouting. I move away from it, pushing through the mist.

There's no one to be seen.

I keep going, shoving the lump in my throat away. They can't be gone. They can't be. I can barely see my hand in front of me, stumbling over the uneven cobblestones and shouldering the narrow buildings on either side of me.

My breath is ragged from leaping across the rooftops as I stop. For all I know, they could've gone back to the main street. I have no idea where they are.

A heavy weight presses on my chest. I swing my head around as if doing so will make them magically appear in the fog. But I'm the only one in the shadows of the alleyway. I turn on my heel and—

The air is knocked from my chest as someone slams me into the side of the building. I squirm before falling dead still. A cool, sharp, metal presses to my throat.

Caught.

___

What do you think of Casimir?

What do you think might happen next?

What TV show are you watching right now? I just started watching YOU season 3 and ready to hate every character more than I already do