A week later, and Squirt met with the forward party. They would all be traveling on foot, as there were enough dimensional bags to carry gear in to not need a pack animal, and the forest would be too thick and difficult to maneuver in for horses. Elk mounts could just fine, but they were not well liked by the previous lord, and the new elk mounts weren’t ready for riders yet.
This time, she was not joined by Paloka or her pest uncle, which was good. She’d made a damn art out of avoiding the man as much as physically possible.
Only Tobias had been brave enough to mention it. If looks could kill, he would have died by her hands.
He didn’t mention it again.
They would be gone two to three weeks, depending, likely making it back just in time for the end of spring celebrations.
Plenty of time for the pest’s people to come and get him or whatever.
She hoped.
And ignored the distaste in her mouth at the thought of never seeing him again.
It was fine, he would never have stayed, anyway.
She didn’t want him.
She continued to conveniently lie to herself, annoyed that she hadn’t been able to convince them to leave the redcap behind with Fenry and a couple others, but Tobias simply argued he’d be able to keep up with her to keep her safe, and his lordship had approved it. Thus, Qzi and Jul were officially assigned the role of protecting her—Qzi while out, Jul while in camp.
It annoyed the ever living fuck out of her, but at least it wasn’t Jul she was stuck with in the forest and Qzi in camp. Jul was by far the least sneaky of the trainees, having to relearn pretty much everything from the ground up. He’d been raised to command attention, not deflect it, so even when he got the steps right, his aura would fluctuate and give him away. If he lost his balance, he tended to make audible noises with his mouth, a habit long since thoroughly ingrained into him that he was having difficulty breaking himself out of.
The hunters, including herself, acted as scouts for the rest of the guard. She was the forward scout, charting the path through which to go by leaving behind trail signs.
By the end of the first day, the knights and guards were dying while the hunters were simply winded, a difference that made Jul’s chest almost burst with pride, the way he was thrusting it out as he swaggered around with the hunters instead of the rest of the guards.
Right. Because he was supposed to be one of the guards, only he’d begged and whined until he’d gotten his way, typical titled fey.
The guards then settled in for the night, most relieved to find their bedrolls.
One thing that Lord Everwinter insisted on was that the hunters set no traps until he commanded it. Yet more of his rubbing the noses of the fey under him in their prejudices.
Squirt didn’t bother setting up a tent, instead clambering up a tree in the middle of the encampment and deciding she didn’t need to die just so the lord could prove a point.
Munching on jerky and some wild fruit she’d collected along the way, she curled up and fell asleep, ignoring the call for dinner and the general camp. The hunters were all excluded from the watch, by orders of his lordship, and so she intended to get as much sleep as possible before they called for her.
She gave it until midnight.
A masculine scream in the middle of the night woke her, and hidden amongst the leaves, she scanned the scene before moving. Then flipped on her stomach and pulled up the goggles.
Yep. A chameleon leopard.
Oof, she hoped the healer in the camp was a damn good one, or that fey’s leg would be lost.
The others managed to hit the creature hard enough for it to let go of their fellow but based on the way they whirled this way and that, they had lost sight of the creature itself.
Idiots. She’d told them the fix, what to do if there was one. They had all gotten colored powder to toss at the thing since the camouflage didn’t work over the top of paint.
Muttering to herself, she slipped down the tree, darting between the tents while tying the handkerchief over her face. Slipping into her pouch, she found the paralytic powder, called out, “Don’t move,” to the other fey still desperately swinging their weapons while protecting the healer working on their fallen comrade, and shot it right into the creatures open mouth as it turned to look towards the sound of her voice.
It caught the thing, crunching down on it intimidatingly and ripping open the loose fabric. Pouring the dust down its own throat.
It collapsed, and she sized it up. His lordship had gotten her specialized jumbo skinning blades and now seemed like a good time to use them.
Just as always, she skinned it after dusting its nose with laughing mushroom powder, clambering over the top of the creature as she ripped off the skin with the larger blades. Halfway through, she cursed and cut the skin off just before the creature went poof, and she landed on her feet holding the half she had managed to carve. With careful movements, she folded the skin in half, muttering to herself about what she did wrong.
A few of the guards woken by the commotion rushed forward, stopping at the scene in a daze. Most only had partial armor or clothing, and one must have decided to sleep entirely in the nude. One or two that weren’t distracted by the scene before them and their injured comrade were giving the nudist appreciative eyes, but the mean looking blade in her hands kept their mouths shut.
One of those that had been on duty stumbled forward, her eyes wide in fear. She croaked out, “What should I have done?”
Squirt tensed, studying her from under her lashes. When it didn’t look like she was in for a beating, she pointed. “You forgot the colored powder.” Dropping her arm as she bent down to pick up the rolled-up skin, she stood and said, “Don’t panic, throw the powder, then stab.”
She licked her lips and asked, “How did you see it?”
Squirt gave her a hard stare. She’d literally told them last week, and she knew this woman had been there. Not everyone from that group came with, and there had been other additions, but this ogress had been to both. Trying to keep the annoyance from her tone, Squirt said, “The goggles. They see through the illusion.”
She turned to stalk off and put the skin on the pile before finding her bed again when the woman called out, “Can I borrow the goggles?”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Squirt froze. Slowly, she turned back to the woman as she begged, “Please?”
The audacity—
In true decorum, she was now required to either provide them, or counteroffer. The polite thing to do would be counteroffer something that would make her refuse the bargain, but that ran the risk of her agreeing.
Thing was, the Guardsman was clearly upset and upset fey were not the most reasonable.
Cautiously, preparing herself to drop, she asked bluntly, “And what happens if I say no?”
Just as she thought, the pleading was swiftly replaced by rage. “You would be that selfish—”
“I could have made you some, but you never asked. These are too small for you. You wouldn’t be able to comfortably wear them. You are on watch part of the night. I am on watch at all hours. I’m tired. So, if you’re going to beat me up because I said no, can we get on with it so I can go back to sleep?”
All of the anger abruptly disappeared from the ogress’s face. Squirt let out a sigh of relief, turned, and trotted away.
By the time the night was done, they had fended off a flock of spiderhawks, a large pack of umberwolves, and a rather large pricklepine, one evolution below the pricklebear.
She was exhausted. She’d had to step in on every incident. Yet as always, the day dawned, and she was up.
Some habits were just so ingrained she couldn’t get rid of them if she tried.
So, up she got, trotting north through the camp to begin scouting out the route and missing out on camp breakfast.
It was during this breakfast, as the soldiers shared their stories of their watches, that they began to piece together that she had been the one to rescue every watch shift. And it was during this conversation that one posed a very good question.
“When does she rest? I mean, she said she was on watch at all hours, and I heard she was already scouting the forward path. I know I only need a few hours, but don’t greenlings need more?”
It was an off-handed comment in a side conversation that, almost miraculously, ended up being heard by almost every fey there and left them all in a thoughtful mood. Then someone started up a conversation completely unrelated, and they all laughed the thoughts off.
The next breakfast was much the same—sharing stories of how the greenling had saved each shift, still awed at the miracle of it. Imagine that. A common greenling protecting big shifters, ogres, elves, and the like. Like something straight out of a fanciful bardic tale.
By the third breakfast, they had all begun to note the dark circles under her eyes, the way they had caught her nodding off over their lunch, and they began to understand the truth to her words.
Some of them grew angry, determined that they wouldn’t need her to save them this time. For some, that anger dissolved with the next breakfast, where her eyes were deadened, for once joining them for the meal. She shoved the food in her mouth before wiping her utensils clean and returning them to her pouch.
It was during this fourth day that Qzi snapped.
As soon as they were out of sight of the camp, he appeared in front of her, grabbing her wrist and casually draping her over his back. “I’ve got this pricklebear, you just leave it to me.”
She immediately struggled, but his hat locked a grip around her wrists, and he licked his lips, so she froze. Shit. Did his hat itself slice her open? Was that how it worked?
He chuckled darkly. “So suspicious. No, pricklebear. Take a nap while I scout. You can trust this job to me, can’t you?”
Scowling at where his hat had wrapped so firmly around her wrists and hoping that didn’t count for a redcap proposal, she muttered, “Only if you remove your hat from me without taking my blood.”
“Deal.”
***
The magic brightened around them for a flash as the bargain was invoked. She muttered, “Wake me, if you need me,” before passing out on his back.
He studied her as her breathing quickly evened out, the softened expression something that brought forth instant dark possessiveness.
Perhaps he could…
Behind him, Zhadin came out of their hiding spot, intoning, “Do not even consider it, redcap. If you start that, I will finish it.”
He pouted, caught in the act of considering simply absconding with her into the Wylds. “I wouldn’t have done it.” He would have, and they both knew it.
They raised a brow. “You would have and broken any trust you had managed to gain in the process.”
He grumbled to himself about annoying shadowfell as he continued on the expected path instead.
She slept deeply on his back, something that surprised him almost as much as how absurdly tiny she was. Tiny even for a pixie. He wondered not for the first time if she had gotten enough nutrition as a child. The longer she slept, the more possessive he became. When they stopped for the midday meal, he almost didn’t wake her.
If it weren’t for one particularly nosy fell, he wouldn’t have.
Still, he waited until the last possible moment to wake her, driven by the possessive mind-state into the clearing where the party had stopped as he glared at anyone who approached or risked waking her.
***
More than a few approached anyway, concern etched on their faces and drawing the attention of Lord Everwinter and the Captain of his Guard. The former frowned at the scene, understanding what had happened.
The captain grumbled under her breath, “Sometimes I wonder if it’s a charm she’s laced.”
The lord snorted and responded, “It is not a magical charm, just strong work ethic.” He turned towards the Captain of his Guard with a raised brow. “And this is where I will remind you that she has not given me her name. She is not beholden to me. She’s under no leadership.”
It took a moment for the point to sink into the captain’s mind, her brows repeatedly softening and furrowing in thought until she said hesitantly, “Meaning she has no one to answer to?”
He chuckled. “No, meaning that she has no reason to push herself, and you cannot deny she has saved lives already this trip. She is up from dawn until dusk, then rises with any threat to the Guard, and yet she’s under no such orders. That is a task she set herself.”
Lady Evense bowed to him politely once she understood his meaning.
Tobias walked up behind Lord Everwinter, saying boldly, “Ten moons says he wakes her and she stabs him for it.”
The lord chuckled darkly. “Bargain—I say she slaps him.”
They both waited, watching as Qzi got them bowls of the lunchtime meal, a premade cold soup from the night before.
He set the bowls down carefully first, then eased her down onto a log out of kicking range for the bowl. She woke with a gasp, freezing, eyes wide and lungs gulping down air as her hands landed on his shoulders, holding him back.
A few breaths in, she regained her senses and scrambled back away from him, her wide eyes scanning the scene and realizing the redcap carried her sleeping form through camp. Her face flushed red with rage and shame, the two emotions warring against each other across her features.
To the surprise of both wolves, she stood, politely bowed, and angrily scooped up her soup before stalking away.
Slowly, their eyes turned to each other as they shared a few thoughts through their expressions as long-time friends did.
They nodded to each other, coming to the same consensus—she was still on edge around the guards. Meaning some had likely shown her hostility, and she would bow but never engage anyone in anything that could be construed as against archaic laws of propriety and social etiquette. A habit both of them had started to pick up on, having seen her real personality enough to know automatic deference wasn’t her.
Tonight, Tobias would be staying up with some of the guard shifts to see for himself how they were treating his tiniest sister.
Just before the switch between second and third watch, after helping fend off a pack of umberwolves, Squirt found herself suddenly flung over the shoulder of one very irritated wolf.
“Gods damn it, Braveheart, stop holding their hands. They aren’t your gods damned responsibility. And you! Gods damned it, she’s not under orders to save your asses but she’s doing it anyway because she’s a damn good fey. Fuck off, all of you, for relying on her to clean up after your damn mess when the hunters were told to not help you.”
He threw the last words like a scathing remark at Squirt as she cagily responded, “Ahaha, ha, right.”
He snarled and said, “You’re grounded. No more helping. I’m taking you to his lordship’s tent. He can fucking ward it so you can’t hear their screams anymore, Braveheart.”
She winced, but despite the venom in his tone, there was still a heavy undercurrent of concern even as he stormed away with her over his shoulder, giving the on-duty guards death glares as he marched her right to the lord’s tent.
His lordship was already asleep. Like traditions of this area dictated, the floor of his tent was made up with furs to make the whole thing a bed, and Tobias didn’t let her slink off to put her back to a wall, likely not making the connection.
And with his lordship asleep, she didn’t want to argue and risk waking him.
Instead, she huffed and grumbled, making herself a little cave of furs she snuggled into.
Tobias raised his brows, impressed. Had he not watched her do it, he probably wouldn’t have thought twice about the slight lump in the furs.
He thought about it now, his heart breaking at the implications. She trusted them enough to let down her guard, but between the unexpected fear in her face when she was woken for lunch and the way she had hidden herself now, he had to wonder if she’d ever felt safe while asleep.
