Cadence and I spend the rest of the afternoon lazing under the sun. She continues to ramble mindless gossip she'd heard, and I can't help but smile at the expressiveness of her face as she recounts them. If there's one thing Cadence is good at, it's telling a good story.

Thankfully, both Jakob and Killian stay relatively clear of us. Killian swims, which I make a point of not watching, until the chill of the setting sun chases him from the water, and they help us pack up Cadence's belongings.

We head back, Cadence and I arm in arm and Jakob rambling Killian's ear off behind us. When we reach the fork in the path, Cadence presses a chaste kiss to my cheek and starts in the opposite direction, Jakob following. She doesn't say anything to Killian, her eyes darting away shyly.

I know she's still embarrassed by what he'd said earlier, shutting her down, and I want to punch him for hurting her confidence like that. Maybe if I wasn't so intimidated by him, I would. I stare at him, my stomach dropping when I realise he doesn't move to follow. His eyes are already on me.

"Aren't you going with them?" I ask.

"I'm heading the same way as you. Unless you'd rather I wait five minutes so you can walk alone."

When a grin pulls at his lips, a dimple dents his left cheek. Despite his warm manner, I know he's picked up on my indifference towards him. Maybe I should feel guilty, but I don't. He's new, from Portson, and there's something about him that sets me on edge. I don't have to like him, no matter what Cadence thinks.

"You can do what you like," I say, continuing the path without looking behind.

Killian falls into step beside me as we head down the narrow path. I try not to look at him as we walk, hyper-aware of his presence.

"Your village is beautiful," Killian comments. "Everything is so green."

"It won't be that way for long with autumn coming in."

I eye him sideways. The sun filters through the trees, creating a grid patchwork across the planes of his face. There's something so smooth about the way he moves, even the subtle tilt of his head as he gazes to the sky above seems... different. I drag my eyes away before he catches me.

"Don't you have forests in Portson?" I ask.

"The nature is different, sparser so close to the sea." He shifts his gaze to look at me, ducking to miss a low-hanging branch. "Jakob said you were going to work in the fields when you finish school. With Casimir. Is that your brother?"

"No."

"But you live with him."

"Yes."

We continue in silence, and I ignore the nagging urge to stare at him. I don't know if he's completely oblivious to the fact that I wish he wasn't here, or he doesn't care. Either way, it's irritating.

"There's a meadow down that path," I say, nodding to our left, "it'll take you the long way around, but it's beautiful."

I keep walking, praying he'll take the hint and go to the meadow, but he puts a hand on my arm to stop me. I look at him, up in those dark eyes—they make me think of Portson, the ocean. I've never seen it before, but my father would describe it to me as I drifted to sleep—is this what he meant when he described its depth?

"Have I done something to upset you?"

"Why would you think that?"

A charming grin crosses his face. "You haven't exactly been the most welcoming."

I stare at him, trying to find something to say. He isn't wrong, I've been rude. But I've stopped caring about what the people of Veymaw thought of me. Besides, his story doesn't add up to me, and I don't like the way he stares, no matter what's normal where he came from.

"I just think it's strange that you moved to Veymaw," I say honestly. "Why would anybody in their right mind leave Portson for this?"

He drops my arm. "This? Veymaw is far more beautiful than many villages I have seen."

"Maybe so, but it's closer to the Elel mountains, too. Everybody in Veymaw wants to get out of here because of that. And very few move here. So why did you?"

He says nothing, expression unfathomable. I sigh and turn around, continuing forward. We reach the edge of the village and pass by his street, but he doesn't stop. I don't say anything; there are plenty of reasons he could be heading into the village centre and not home, and I'm still slightly embarrassed from accusing him of following me last time.

"So that's why you don't like me," he says, "because you don't think anyone should want to live in Veymaw."

When he phrases it like that, I sound crazy, and he knows it. "I don't like you because your story doesn't make sense." We pass a woman in the narrow street hanging up her washing. Her eyes follow me, hot like the sun.

Casimir's probably home by now. The thought makes me anxious. What kind of mood will he be in? Will he still be angry with me?

"My father was a trader," Killian says eventually. I pause, turning slightly to stare at him. "A month ago, he was sent to Torinne and never came back. I wanted to stay, but Portson is expensive, and you only live there if you're into trades, which I was not."

My heart drops into my stomach, guilt seeping in. I know all too well what it's like to lose a parent.

"That's why I moved to Veymaw."

Because he didn't have any other choice.

I swallow. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"You didn't know." He tilts his head sideways, unoffended. "Are you always this suspicious of everyone?"

"No."

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe."

I bite my lip to keep from smiling and turn towards the village. The moon has already risen, despite the sun still setting. It's a silver fingernail in the sky behind him. The songs of azu whirl in the air around us as we make our way down the trodden path. The setting sun is still warm on my back, but there's a crispness to the air that wasn't here during the summer months.

Casimir's cabin on the edge of the woods arises. Killian keeps walking forward, probably heading into town to pick something up for supper. I pause outside the cabin.

"Casimir's my best friend," I say, answering his earlier question. "I live with him because my parents aren't around anymore. My brother is... he was..."

"Taken."

"How did you—"

"It's a small village, people talk."

I bet I know exactly who talked. Jakob and his damn blabber mouth. I don't know why, but it bothers me that Killian knows. Is that why he's been staring at me, because my brother was taken, and my father killed? I don't want pity from him.

"We heard about it, you know," he murmurs, "back home—the first taking of the Red Moon."

I shudder, keeping my eyes trained forward. I knew the news had to have spread far, the shifters have killed many in the years before, but it was the first time the shifters took something—my brother.

"I almost didn't believe people when they said it was your brother."

Before I can say anything else, the front door of the cabin swings open and Casimir steps out. His eyes land on us several metres away, just out of ear range, and his expression shifts. He calls my name.

"I'm coming!" I call, turning back to Killian. "Why didn't you believe it?"

"We were told there were no survivors. That he was an only child."

There's something about the way he looks at me, like he can reach inside of my brain and read every thought. "Whoever told you that was wrong."

"I see that now." He looks at Casimir over my shoulder, expression unreadable. "Can I ask you something?"

"I—" Casimir calls my name again. "I should go."

Killian nods. "Tomorrow."

I turn, heading towards Casimir who still stands outside watching. Even when I reach him, he doesn't take his eyes off Killian' retreating figure. "Hey," I say.

"Who was that?"

"Killian Li," I say. "Moved to Veymaw from Portson." His jaw tightens. Still mad, then.

There's a layer of grime on his forehead. He must've only gotten back recently. "Dinner's ready."

Following him inside the cabin, I settle down at the table where he's already served a bowl of soup for me. I eye the satchel still hooked over the chair. The gun is no longer in there. Casimir doesn't say anything as he sits down, staring at the table.

"Are you still mad at me?" I raise the spoon to my mouth. It's so hot I almost burn my tongue. "Cas?"

"Yes, Freya, I'm still mad at you."

I sigh, placing my spoon down. "I'm sorry okay."

"Are you really? Do you regret it?"

"Do I have to regret something to be sorry?" He gives me a pointed look. "I'm sorry I went to the forge."

"It's not just about that. Yeah, I'm annoyed you were dumb enough to go there at night, but it's the fact that you didn't trust me enough to tell me."

"If I'd told you, would you have let me go?"

His knuckles are white where he grips his spoon. I hate this, the tension in the air, him being upset with me. It makes me anxious. I push up from the table, coming round to his side.

"Stand up."

"Freya—"

"Stand up, Cas, or I'll force you." We both know I couldn't if I wanted to, but he saves me the embarrassment and stands up. "You remember what my dad used to make us do whenever we had an argument?"

He raises his eyebrows when I step forward. "When we were kids, you mean?"

I hold my hand out. "I don't care how old we were."

"This is stupid."

"Give me your damn hand."

He sighs, handing it over. I grip it in my own, pulling him close as I grab the other one and stretch our arms out, swinging them in circles as we stand face to face.

"Now get mad at me, scream," I say.

"You're ridiculous." He doesn't last more than five seconds without breaking into a smile, just like he did when we were kids and my father forced us to stand like this until one of us laughed. "This doesn't mean I'm not mad."

"I know."

"And it doesn't mean I'm not camping in your room for the rest of your life."

"I know."

"And if you still manage to sneak out, I'll chain you to the cabin—"

I laugh. "You're crazy, you know that, right?"

"You're all I have, Frey." He stops swinging our arms and pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on top of my head. "I won't lose you to something as stupid as the forge."

"I know," I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. He stinks of sweat and clothes laid out in the sun, but I don't shove him away like I usually would.

It's now more than ever that I understand his anger with me. If I were to lose him to the forge, I don't know how I'd go on. I don't know if I'd still be motivated to look for the deserters, to find my brother, I don't know if I'd ever be the same again.

I can't go to the forge anymore. At least for a little while, until this thing with Casimir blows over. But I can't give up on the deserters. They're my only chance at finding Samu before the next Red Moon. A cool shiver runs down my spine.

If he's still somewhere to be found.

1. Do you think Freya is being too hard/judgmental on Killian?

2. What do you think might happen next?

3. How old are you? I'm 23!