Fall

Piper

They traveled into the morning. Piper was weary, but unable to rest. Spiders of fear crawled up her back, giving her the same paranoia as when they were chased by the thieves. If they stopped, something bad would happen. Time would take them in its jaws, and never let go.

As they came closer to Seine, the jungle floor became soft and stuck to their shoes. When the ground became more water than earth, bridges sprung up with the trees.

Where they had met hardly a soul in the wilderness, the bridges were a place of high traffic. Merchants and an uncomfortable amount of soldiers in red stomped over the marsh with their fera.

Piper hesitated when she saw the bridges. It was a highway to Seine, but would they be captured by exposing themselves? Could they blend in with the Seinish? Not a shred of official blue was on their clothes, and they were certainly tattered enough to pass as a commoner, but one mistaken step would mean potential death.

Finch was silent as he assessed the Seinish. He was studying them. Piper could already see him experimenting with expressions, seeing which ones he would mimic.

Piper fidgeted nervously. Despite being protected by the cover of trees, she still felt uneasy. I don’t know if this will work.

Reine looked under the bridges. Unbonded fera line these waters. She spotted the snout of a crocodile. How’s your swimming?

Crocodiles or soldiers. Piper was unsure which one she preferred.

“Okay.” Finch rubbed his palms together. “I think I’m ready. Although I don’t know their accent too well. We’ll have to refrain from chatting.” He flicked up his hood, and Piper did the same. “It should be smooth sailing to Seine. The bridges are safe enough, I think. Don’t speak, and don’t—Life help us—tick off a soldier. Any questions?”

Piper sighed. “No.”

No, Reine said.

“Here we go.” Finch stepped out of the trees, and melted into the crowd with Piper.

Kane

Winter was a moody mistress. She was often cloudy and distant, the only breakthrough to dump snow on a chilled Eden. Wind gusts were her sighs, and the drab colors a reflection of her grimness.

Today, however, she showed a kind eye. The skies were blue, the clouds a pleasant frame, and the temperatures above freezing.

Kane smiled over his triple guard. He was on an unbonded horse next to Flint. The knoll on which they stood was small; one of the last ripples of hills that signaled the Northern territory. Before them stretched the Western plains.

Light tents had been picketed across the flat land, looking more like forgotten tissues than war camps. Their blue flags waved boldly, but no one was there to challenge it. They had only been set up for a half-day. Kane didn’t even know if the West had seen them yet.

It was actually happening. After so much talk, the action was almost stunning to Kane. King Asher’s plans were coming to life before him.

Homer trotted up to their grassy island. He was beside his pony, and customarily refused to ride an unbonded mount. Perhaps his fera was offended if he did.

Flint snorted. I don’t mind it. He eyed Kane’s chestnut horse. If the horse tries anything funny, it will have to deal with me.

“Everything is going smoothly,” Homer said. “We’re going to rest and leave in the morning.”

“And a report?” Kane asked.

Homer nodded. “A messenger is already on her way to Elbe.”

Kane was glad that tonight’s report was settled. It was hard enough keeping the king convinced that he could be responsible outside of the Northern Mountains. As long as he was with one of the officials and his triple guard, he was given a longer leash. Slowly, King Asher was trusting him.

The freedom was so sweet. He wanted it to last forever.

Maybe he’ll lower my guards to a half dozen, Kane said. When I can prove to him I’m safe.

Flint let a trickle of mirth slip through their bond. And I’m going to take up painting.

Your antlers could be tipped with cotton—we could make them into paintbrushes fairly easy. Kane chuckled. Flint closed his eyes in laugher.

“Something funny, Prince?” Homer said, brows furrowing.

“Yes.” Kane kept his gaze on the gray world with its blue roof, a smile still on his lips. “I think after this is over, my fera will take up painting.”

Homer was polite. “I wish him the best.” His pony looked up at Kane’s horse, ears swiveling back.

Kane scanned the field of tents, dreading leaving his seat of overseeing. But he had to find an official to trail, or King Asher would reconsider his choice. Far down the line, he saw a goshawk circling. It was more likely than not Briar, Donovan’s fera.

He rolled back his shoulders and grimaced. It was going to be a longer day than he thought.

With a word to Homer, he set off towards camp. Flint was able to match his horse stride for stride.

Are you nervous? Flint said.

Nervous? For?

The fact that we may not make it to the East. Flint made sure to set his hooves down hard, sending his saddlebag ringing. It was more effective than a herald, for the soldiers quickly made way for the prince and his dozen guards. That the West will stop us not far into the campaign.

Kane saluted back to a few soldiers who stood rigid for him. Donovan and King Asher may already have an idea about that, as well as planning for a defense in case Elbe is attacked while our main army is away. My job—our job—is to make sure the king’s orders are carried out, and to send progress reports back.

Wouldn’t that include making sure the plans satisfy the king’s orders? Flint said.

Kane dug his fingers into the reigns. When you put it that way…

We’ve been given a chance of leadership as an extension of King Asher. I don’t think this is a time to be passive. Flint looked at him with marble eyes. Before bonding, Kane had seen the eyes of deer many times without thinking much of it. But now, he saw a spark of intelligence as clear as any human’s in them. It was the eyes of a tactician, an advisor.

Donovan, or any official, wouldn’t appreciate me ordering them around. Kane felt a stone form in his stomach as they came under the shadow of Briar flying.

We would be keeping them inside the king’s wishes, that is all, was Flint’s reply.

Kane saw Donovan up ahead, entering a large tent. We’ll keep them in the guidelines if we have to. But I don’t think it will be needed often.

Flint looked at him again, but said nothing. Kane’s stomach sunk. He prayed to Life that his fera was wrong.