Katrina had stomped off in the direction of Momma Thompkins. There was only one homestead in that direction. That and the road to Capita, but no one ever came to Pode except for Percival and his father Francis' trade cart once a year, which only came during tax season. Katrina didn't make it to the Thompkins because Percival came a day early this year.

"Katrina!" Percival sprang lithely from the cart, doing a flip before landing in front of her.

She grinned at him, "Still showing off I see."

"What use is learning acrobatics if a man can't make an entrance?" He said picking at his nails with a narrow knife.

Francis rolled his eyes and clucked to the pony, "I'll be seeing you son."

Katrina waved to Francis before turning to Percival, "What's the news?"

His face fell, "Not good I'm afraid. You remember how I told you about adventurers? How a living can be made that way?"

"Of course! People put up bounties at a location, you complete it and are paid." She gestured for him to continue. It was something she had asked him about in detail seasons ago.

"Yes," He nodded, "well the boards are overflowing, have been for months apparently."

Katrina's brow furrowed. Doing quests and things was her dream. She couldn't understand why people living her dream would abandon it, "But why?"

Percival whispered conspiratorially, "There is no one to do it. Everyone has been drafted."

Katrina raised an eyebrow. She was not doing this guessing game anymore.

"Orcs and lizardmen." He whispered holding up a scroll, "They can't draft me since I'm just a merchant passing through from the Southern Kingdom." But he pushed back his sleeve and revealed a healing bruise that looked suspiciously hand shaped. "They did strongly encourage me to bring this scroll up here to Pode."

Katrina eyed the scroll, "That is addressed to Sir Wilbur."

Percival shrugged, "So it is." He sighed, "I should be off I suppose. Duty calls and all that." His stomach rumbled.

She laughed, "Obviously. And the meal Sir Wilbur will give you has nothing to do with that in the slightest."

"Perks of being a service member, love." He winked at her before starting after his father.

Katrina frowned. This was something she wanted to think on. Unfortunately, her home had been invaded by Cole and his inflated ego. Ellen's house was quiet though.

Ellen was Sir Wilbur's forester. She was in charge of making sure the deer and quail were in good supply for when Sir Wilbur had lords to the house. This had never happened. She was also to keep the exotic predators off his land. Ellen was also rarely in her cabin. She stopped by every few days to re-supply, but Ellen really only kept the cabin as a formality.

Katrina opened the door harshly, her thoughts caught up in other things. The door slammed against the wall. She murmured a curse.

"Katrina?" Ellen said looking up from the creature she was dressing. Her dusky black skin was covered in blood up to her elbows. Brown hair, with highlights of dark green was tied up in a smart bun.

"Ellen!" Katrina explained stunned, "I didn't think you would be home."

"Oh, his lordship wanted something special for his table since Francis is coming in tomorrow. Tax season and all that." She gestured to what you would get if a spider had bred with a chicken.

"Special." Katrina eyed it with suspicion.

Ellen smiled her hazel eyes sparkling, "I think so. It has a good taste. The legs are especially good if you crack them open. Like crab legs but... sweeter... and with a pleasant tang. I call them spikens. Nasty bite on them though. They can bite through leather gloves." She held up one of the gloves she had made, leather with studs of crocalyal carapace. It had been bit in half.

"What happened to your hand?" Katrina's gray eyes widened looking at the destroyed glove.

Ellen smiled, "Nothing. Spikens are dumber than a box of rocks. I just waved the glove in front of its face and it bit down which let me kill it. If it hadn't of surprised me I would have thought to use a stick or something... oh, well. There are more gloves where that one came from!" She raised an eyebrow, "I know I gave you an open invitation to the cottage, but you rarely use it. What's the problem?"

Katrina sat on one of the stumps Ellen used for chairs. "Two-fold I suppose. Cole is demanding I marry him."

"That's hardly new." She brushed some feathers away, "You told him he could shove his demands up his arse?"

"Multiple times, but I think its so crowded with honor and duty, he can't fit anymore up there." Katrina said a smile itching its way across her face.

Ellen laughed. "That's irritating, of course, but he has been insisting since you were ten or so. That can't be the problem."

Katrina let out a great sigh, "He talked my parents into agreeing."

"Not your father?" Ellen asked breaking off a leg with a sickening crack.

Katrina shrugged, "So he says."

Ellen snorted. "Not likely."

Katrina raised her head, looking up at the older woman expectantly. Hopefully.

Ellen sighed. "Your father is a hunter. I'm a hunter. We talk. I'm not saying he hates Cole, I'm just saying you would marry Cole over his dead body."

Katrina choked out a laugh, "Good. Then that's settled. I've been saying no for so long, but he wears on you. Knowing that my da supports me gives me strength."

Ellen wiped the blood and feathers from her hands before patting Katrina on the back, "Now, what was the second thing?"

Looking at Ellen, Katrina had a sinking feeling she should have mentioned this first. "Percival came back, I met him on the road and he said there is a draft."

"They're back! Think you could have led with that?" Ellen began packing up in a hurry. "I wouldn't worry yourself about the draft. Either you're drafted or you're not. You don't get a choice."

Katrina sighed, "I suppose that's true."

Ellen shouldered the bag of strange game, "Well, if you are going to be here, mind waiting for Broden and helping him unload the wood I asked him to bring?"

"Sure, Ellen." Katrina replied sullenly.

Ellen, seeing that pathetic state Katrina was in, left the door open wide. Something she only did when someone was inside. Of all the people in Pode, Ellen best knew about the odd beasts that could make your home theirs if a door or window was left open. Spikens could be the least of many worries. Crocalyals for instance, were worse. Terrible beasts with moss green fur that grew around dung brown scales so hard they could shatter an axe swung by Broden. Had, in fact, done such a thing.

The time passed in quiet solitude for Katrina. She hadn't moved from the stump. She always thought it strange that Ellen used stumps as chairs. She was such a handy woman, but her furniture was barely an afterthought. It's no matter I suppose. Ellen won't ever change. Always doing some things with the wind and others against it. There would be no answers focusing on the oddities of Ellen. Anyway, that didn't bother her. Just puzzled her slightly.

Katrina's deity, the goddess of storms, had given her several interesting gifts when she was chosen. One was the ability to create water from nothing. When she was thinking deeply, she liked to pour the water from one hand to the other.

It was in this sorry state that Broden found her. He whipped a stick against the side of his cart, startling her.

Katrina jerked her head up, seeing the stout dwarf standing by the cart still holding the stick in hand, "Oh, Broden! I forgot you were coming. Ellen asked me to help you unload the wood."

Broden shrugged before gesturing his response, "You won't be much help if you don't help." He was dressed in animal skins like a wildman. They weren't the cleaned and tanned skins Ellen would have given him. They were all skins he had hunted himself. The most distinct of which was a feline pelt he claimed was a lion. Most people thought it was a crocalyal pelt, but those that had seen a living crocalyal knew that Broden's pelt lacked the reptilian features. It also didn't have any scales, which all crocalyals had. However, since no one this far north had ever seen a lion, that was a frequent source of debate in the village. But only when Broden the Lionheart was not in town.

Katrina nodded. Broden didn't talk much. It wasn't that he was mute, or deaf. He just didn't like the whole business of speaking. His almost total commitment to not speaking left many of the people around town thinking him an idiot.

Katrina began signing, "It looks like we may be drafted." She began relating to him the details as she knew them.

"Well that's excellent! My path has always been one of blood. Not of woodchips." He picked up his axe and brandished it for a moment.

That was certainly true. Broden hunted trees because it needed to be done. Not for a love of trees. His skin was more a pelt itself and spoke of his dedication to living outdoors and in the cool northern sun. He even refused boots and his toe nails grew like nasty, dirt crusted talons. His beard and hair were believed to be black, but it was hard to tell under the filth.

Katrina smiled sadly. She was eager. She had known forever she was made for more than Pode, but if war was coming, then she feared for her family. When all the able bodied youths left to die for the Northern Kingdom, who would protect their families from the strange creatures Ellen was keeping from the forest?