Ahlrein was Teila’s father, a member of Susu’s team. I hadn’t seen him with the hunters drinking earlier; he must’ve arrived after I’d closeted myself away. As I greeted him, others drifted into the main room in pairs and small groups, including Teila herself. She was holding hands with her mother Miri, another hunter but on Dura’s team.

The lodge split up hunters from the same family whenever possible. That way if anything catastrophic happened to a team, families wouldn’t lose more than one member. For example, none of the people on Peng’s team had been related to each other, so the losses caused by their deaths were spread out across four families.

Five, I suppose, if we include Borba. There’s no way he’s surviving this.

As Ahlrein mentioned, Mumu and Kesa were present, but they seemed to be waiting for all the hunters to arrive. People spoke in quiet murmurs in the meantime, though I could feel their attention on the lodge’s leaders.

Teila came to where Alhrein and I were standing, her mother giving me a nod, which I returned.

“Have they said anything yet?” Miri asked her husband.

“Not yet,” Alhrein replied, “but almost everyone’s here. We’re just waiting for Haol and Tegen. They went to scout the signs of Borba’s passage through the forest."

Almost everyone was present, yet the lodge didn’t feel full. There were noticeable gaps in our ranks that remained even after Haol and Tegen arrived. They strode from the entrance directly toward Mumu for a whispered conversation. The room quieted as every hunter listened in. When Mumu noticed, she gestured for Tegen to speak louder.

“We confirmed that Borba headed to the village’s eastern boundary. His footprints were edged in blood, and when we measured his gait, we found it to be almost a saqilm in length.”

The audience muttered, disturbed by what they’d just heard. Frankly, I was too. A saqilm was just over eight feet. That meant—

“The only way Borba’s stride could have been so long was for it to have been magicked. We believe he was using both Bear’s Strength and Dog’s Agility to flee as quickly as possible.”

“Do we know how long he can keep that up?” I asked. I hadn’t meant to, but the question popped out before I could stop myself.

Several hunters in the room nodded along, wanting to know the answer themselves.

“The spells were taken from our Inneioleia,” Tegen said, “and the qi to power them was stolen from those Borba slew. As long as he can find qi to keep the patterns refreshed, he can continue to cast the spells. That knowledge is based on what we understand about his abilities.”

“We’re going to need the whole lodge,” someone said; I didn’t catch who.

There was angry agreement in response, the outlines of a barely contained rage among the hunters becoming clearer. It was out of character for the people who I’d come to know. Yes, the lodge’s members killed on a regular basis, but when they did, it was with respect for their prey—with understanding for the role the wilderness played in benefiting them, their families, and their village.

They were a practical people, almost to a fault. Stoic, even, and this was my first time seeing them worked up like this. Not even the kalihchi bear had made them this angry.

Yuki had been watching and listening to the briefing along with me. They were focused intently on the hunters’ reactions.

It’s the betrayal, I explained. Even after Borba had become a mule, he was still considered a hunter, a part of the lodge. Now, though, he’s turned on his brothers and sisters. And that makes it worse. You expect enemies to hurt you, but when it’s family, the depth of pain is so much greater, as is the desire to return it.

I felt Yuki shuffling through my memories. I hadn’t actively hated anyone in either my first or second families, but I’d known a great many people over the course of my old life and researched a lot of documentaries. All too often, threads of familial discord were woven through humanity’s stories.

The depth of affection transforms into the depth of hate, they said after a moment.

Yes, I said.

Is that why we’re so angry?

Yes.

Our conversation was interrupted when Mumu began speaking: “Firstly, all hunts except the one for Borba are cancelled. If anyone needs meat, we’ll supply it from our stores; we have more than enough to handle it. Next, we’re not leaving the village undefended, so two teams will stay behind to work with our land soldier and the militia in case Borba returns. Thirdly, the teams defending Voorhei will be Kesa’s and Tobin’s. Fourth—”

That got a rise out of the assembled hunters, and several raised their voices. They all wanted to join the hunt for Borba. Kesa, though, stepped forward to glare them down, and that shut them up long enough for Mumu to explain the rationale.

The lodge’s teams were ranked as follows:

Mumu Kesa Borba/Peng Dura Tobin Susu

The idea was that the number-one team would go after Borba with help from the fourth and sixth, while the second-best team defended Voorhei along with the fifth. This ‘striping’ was a way to distribute talent between the two efforts, which seemed fine to me.

What had really caught my attention, instead, was the way it was outlined: Kesa wasn’t the glaring type; she must’ve intentionally picked an unsophisticated leadership tactic—the glare—to give Mumu a chance to appear cool-headed and organized in front of the lodge.

“Are the apprentices coming with us?” Miri asked.

Mumu and Kesa looked at each other, like they didn’t have an answer to her question. No, that wasn’t it. I could see from their spirits that there was disagreement between them. Mumu’s indicated a willingness to include the apprentices, while Kesa’s didn’t.

Well, I wasn’t planning to stay behind—

“I’m going,” Teila said, beating me to it.

“Me too,” I said.

Apparently, Kesa wasn’t the only one with a potent glare. Both Ahlrein and Miri had good ones too, and they pointed theirs at me, like I was somehow a bad influence on her.

Teila stepped between me and her parents. “It’s my decision as a hunter, and I’m making it for my own reasons.”

“This isn’t like the hunt for the King of the Forest,” Ahlrein said. “There’ll be no first-aid station.”

“I know,” Teila said, “but Inleio was my lodge master too. Peng and the others were my brothers and sisters.”

“If Eight wasn’t going, would you still want to?” Miri asked.

Teila quirked her head in thought, then answered, “Yes, I would.”

“The three of us would be on the same hunt,” Ahlrein said, and the implications were clear—there was a chance their family would lose all of its hunters.

Miri shook her head. “We’ll die before we let anything happen to our Teila.”

Ahlrein nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Teila didn’t show it, but I saw how her parents’ statement disturbed her. “I will carry that burden.”

“Hopefully, you won’t need to,” Miri said. Then she faced me. “You’ll watch over her too, yes?”

“Without question.”

“That’s a good answer, and I like the look in your eyes.” Miri turned and spoke to the room: “We’ll not object to the apprentices joining the hunt.”

Mumu signed an acknowledgment: “Your words have been heard.” She glanced over at Susu, but the team leader shook his head. Their apprentice would be staying behind. The poor boy in question looked anxious-afraid-disappointed at the decision. “That settled—” Mumu checked to the side, but Kesa chose not to object. “We will begin our preparations. Hunt teams prepare for two weeks in the field. Gather your gear and meet at the east gate.”

###

As the door to the longhouse swung open, I found the children and Bihei sitting around the fire. There was the briefest flicker on each of their faces as their expressions went from glum to neutral, but it was impossible for them to hide their feelings from me. A heaviness covered their spirits like a thick blanket.

All three stood when I entered, but it was Bihei who asked, “We can’t change your mind, can we?”

“Yuki told you, huh?”

It was apparently Aluali’s turn to host the portion of the uekisheile that stayed with the family, because he replied, “Yes, Zasha. They told me about what happened at the meeting.”

The rest was obvious: of course Aluali broke the news to Billisha and Bihei.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Even though it’s so dangerous?” Bihei asked.

“I’m going because it’s dangerous. My team needs me... Inleio needs me.”

The three exchanged looks, wisps of spirit energy unconsciously fluttering between them. It happened all the time between people who knew each other well. In this case, I took it to mean that they’d already come to some decision, and were seeking confirmation from each other.

“We’ve packed your things already,” Billisha said. “Everything you’ll need should be there, but you should check, just in case. We... we included two jars of the tomato preserves you like so much. There wasn’t enough room for more; nothing we did could make them fit.”

I smiled, touched by my family’s thoughtfulness. “It’s okay. Two jars should be enough. We hopefully won’t be in the field long enough for me to want more than that.”

“I don’t know, Zasha,” Aluali said. “The way you eat, they may not last two days, let alone two weeks.”

I felt my smile spread. “What can I say? The preserves are just that good.”

They were too—a mixture of dried tomatoes and chilis that had been a specialty of Bihei’s deceased husband. It was so delicious on venison, bear, rabbit, and even duck. I couldn’t get enough of the stuff, much to my family’s amusement.

Mostly, though, I appreciated Aluali’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“You’ll be careful?” Bihei asked.

“As much as I can be,” I said.

“And you’ll listen to Yuki?” Aluali asked.

“Yes, of course. They’re family too.”

“What will you say to Ikfael?” Billisha asked.

“I don’t have time to get to the Glen and back before my team leaves, so I’ll have to see what I can manage through Snow. I figure Ikfael will be okay with raiding the refrigerator for a while.”

At that point, my family had gotten to know Ikfael pretty well, and all three nodded in agreement. Our dear otter might have the Foodie talent, but she wasn’t exactly a picky eater.

After that, I sorted through my gear and supplies, but everything was packed correctly. It was a good reminder that Bihei and the kids had already experienced me heading out to hunt many times—maybe never one quite this long before, but enough that the procedures were familiar.

More importantly, they’d grown accustomed to me being in harm’s way. Again, maybe not this degree, but generally speaking the trauma of me almost dying to the kalihchi bear had mostly faded. I’d proven to them my ability and willingness to keep coming back to them, no matter what I faced.

I thanked each for their support, explained that I planned to ‘visit’ the Glen, and found a comfortable seat before joining with Yuki.

###

Sun-on-Snow opened her eyes to a peaceful Glen. A glance at her surroundings confirmed her kittens were nearby—Felix and Oscar were taking turns stalking and pouncing upon the leaves blowing across the ground. They took care not to get too close to the pool, though. Oscar had only needed to fall in once for the two of them to learn that lesson.

Her nap had been a good one, and she stretched and flexed, purring softly in satisfaction.

Our presence lay within her, along with the message we wished to convey: Seek Ikfael. We have a request.

Snow came to her feet and padded around the Glen, but Ikfael wasn’t floating in the pool as usual. The spirit of the land was also neither in the cave, atop the waterfall, nor anywhere within the spirit’s territory, the boundaries of which Snow could sense but was uncertain how. Not that it mattered. It was, so it was accepted. Snow took the knowledge for granted like the trees, the wind, and all the rest of the forest.

Back at the pool, Snow crouched to splash the water with her paw. That caught the kittens’ attention, and they came tumbling her way. They were too big to climb on top of her, but they still sometimes tried, and she had to bat them away before resuming her splashing. Then, she needed to pull them back from the pool to keep them from falling in. Apparently, they hadn’t quite learned that lesson as well as they could have.

Scolded, the kittens finally rested on their bellies to watch their mother without any other hijinks. After a glance to make sure they were behaving, Snow resumed splashing the water.

Time passed—about enough for a leaf to make its way from the waterfall to the stream leading out of the Glen—before Ikfael appeared, swimming up from the bottom of the pool. The otter signed with her paws, and while Snow recognized some of the signs, the warm presence inside her translated the full meaning.

“What’s this? Is it you or Yuki who needs my attention?”

We sprouted our tendrils from the backs of Snow’s paws, and waved to Ikfael. Then, with some effort, we extended those tendrils so that they resembled rudimentary fingers.

Please follow these movements, we said to Snow, before sending the necessary qi impulses through her body to guide her paws.

Blynxes—or lynxes for that matter—weren’t exactly adapted for communicating via sign language, so Snow did her best to sit up and move her front paws as we requested. At the same time, we used our tendril fingers to complete the words.

It was slow and awkward, with many stutters when we were forced to repeat words until they were clear, but the conversation essentially went something like this:

“We won’t be back to the Glen for at least two weeks.”

“Is it Eight or Snow who will be away?”

“Eight/Yuki. Our team will be staying in the woods.”

Ikfael quirked her head. “Did something happen with the owl? You’re hurt?”

“We’re fine. It’s Borba—the man we told you about, the one who was turned into a mule—he killed many villagers, including Inleio, and escaped east. We will be joining the effort to hunt him down.”

“I see,” Ikfael said, her paws trailing off at the end.

“We wanted to let you know that we continue to honor the agreements we’ve made. There is enough food in the refrigerator to last four weeks. The hunt won’t take that long, but we give all the food to you anyway. It won’t be as tasty raw, but we will make it up to you when we return. We promise.”

Ikfael didn’t respond; she seemed lost in thought, her gaze pointed downstream.

Snow waved her paw on our behalf to get her attention. “Is that all right?”

We were using Snow’s eyes, so we couldn’t see past the flat expression Ikfael turned on us. “No, it’s not. Implied in our agreements is your presence in the Glen, which means you need to be around to cook the food for me. Not all the time, I’m a flexible and understanding spirit, but most. Two weeks away is unacceptable.”

Surprise rolled through us, the waves even touching Snow. She quickly dropped to her belly and bowed her head. It took some coaxing to get her back upright, so that we could communicate again.

Ikfael’s jaw was set, and there was determination in her eyes. “Don’t go.”

“We have to.”

Her response was near-instant, as if she’d already had it prepared: “Then send Yuki, and leave Eight behind.”

“That—”

“You have an extra portion, right? Give them to Mumu, so that you can take part in the hunt, but the main body stays safe.”

We’d asked Mumu before if she wanted to meet Yuki directly, but she had declined. Kesa too, for that matter, which was fine. It really was. The uekisheile portion of our combined consciousness had been disappointed, of course, but accepting people’s rejection was a part of respecting their free will. The two hunters knew that if they ever needed Yuki, the uekisheile would be available to help them. And that was enough.

“You know that won’t work,” we said through Snow.

Ikfael glared, and then looked away. She squeaked angrily and rubbed a paw vigorously through the fur on top of her head, as if it would help her think better.

When she turned back, she signed, “I’m not responsible for you!”

“Yes. That’s true.”

“Bug! Insect! You infest and multiply—bringing people to the Glen to annoy me.”

Ikfael had never called us names before, but we didn’t take offense. By then, we understood what was happening: our dear otter was afraid for us but unwilling to admit it, so the fear expressed itself as anger.

“It is unfair, unfair, unfair. A violation of our agreement, I say.”

“We will make amends—”

“Amends.” Ikfael snorted, but her expression turned... sneaky. “Yes, we will amend the agreement. When I request it, you will cook for me.”

“We would be happy to, but there will be times when we cannot.”

Ikfael waved our objection away. “This is a principle, not a law. I understand that duties and obligations will sometimes interfere—it is just that two weeks is too long—so I will have to adapt my share of the exchange to make it possible for you to accomplish yours.”

“What exactly does that mean?” we asked.

She rolled her eyes, like the answer had been obvious. “If you’re not here, then I’ll have to go to where you are.”

“What? What about the serpent who sleeps under the Glen?”

Ikfael frowned. “Sun-on-Snow will stand guard while I am away. There are also all those noisy workers nearby. They can help. And if anything significant happens, Snow can signal you, and I will rush back.”

Her words gave us pause. Her willingness to leave the Glen to another creature’s care stumped our expectations, and we didn’t know how to respond—neither the Ollie/Eight nor the Yuki portions of our consciousness had insights on how to respond other than to say, “Thank you.”

Once more, Ikfael waved us off. “It is an exchange; that’s all. Now, have Snow follow me. We need to tell the workers that she’ll be in charge while I am away.”

Snow yowled in confusion once she understood what Ikfael meant, and frankly our own thoughts weren’t much clearer. Ikfael was willing to expose her real avatar? In the past, she’d created a giant water sculpture whenever strangers visited the Glen. The only other people who’d seen her real form were the kids, Bihei, and Mumu.

It turned out, though, that she’d settled on a compromise. The water sculpture she used for telling stories about Knight Otter stepped out of the pool, and started walking toward where the shrine was being built. Sleek and lithe, the sculpture looked like Emma Peel from the old Avengers show, except as a human-sized otter.

Knight Otter stopped to glance back to where we sat, still dumbfounded by Ikfael’s actions. She signed, “What are you waiting for? Come on.”

That roused us from our stupor, and we encouraged Snow to follow along as requested, which was how we got to witness the workers dropping their tools and rushing to bow to Knight Otter as she strode through shrine’s gate and along the path to the building under construction. An enterprising apprentice was clever enough to run to get Aunt Tulu, because she came rushing out with the rest of the workers from inside.

Ikfael looked down her nose at the gathered throng. “I’m going on a trip,” she signed, “and am leaving this blinking lynx in charge. Listen to her; she will guide you in my stead.”

Fortunately, the workers had already been introduced to Snow, so none of them panicked, but there were a great many jaws dropped in response. People looked back and forth between Knight Otter and Snow.

A thought came to us that our dear Ikfael was doing a wonderful job spreading confusion and consternation that day.

“Oh, spirit,” Aunt Tulu said, “ah... um... how will we know the lynx’s intentions?”

Knight Otter nodded. “A good question. She will come to warn you if an animal invades the Glen. It is not part of our arrangement for you to endanger your lives, but if you defend this place and yourselves, that will be enough.”

“We have agreed to do so already as part of our charge, at least while the shrine is under construction. The advance warning would be helpful, however.”

“Then in exchange, let me have some of those maple candies you’re always giving out.”

Aunt Tulu blinked, and then blinked again before she seemed to register the request. “Yes, of course.” She untied the pouch at her side and offered the whole bag to Knight Otter.

“All’s well, then,” the knight said, before turning and walking straight out of the gate.

We had Snow wave her paw in farewell, and then she followed after.

Back at the pool, Ikfael eagerly grabbed the pouch from the returning water sculpture. She jammed one of the candies into her mouth and stored the rest in her pocket.

“I’ll meet you by the river on the east side of Voorhei,” she signed, while she nom nom nommed the candy.

“We will be leaving soon,” we said.

“Don’t worry. Where the streams and rivers flow, I can move quickly. I’ll be there in time.”

And that apparently was that, because she disappeared with a splash, and a moment later Knight Otter dissolved back into the pool.

But how will she travel with us? Did she plan to use Knight Otter again? There were just so many questions, with no answers left behind.

What about you, Snow? Are you okay with this arrangement?

A sense of satisfaction filled the blynx. This place belonged to her, and she belonged to it. There was a sense of... loyalty. It’d been developing over time, and the bond with us felt sure.

We are grateful, we said, and will do our best to return your trust. What else was there to say in response to our family’s care other than: “Thank you.”