Evening. Drizzling.

  North Gate Village.

  I walked through the gate, finally free of the manor and that insufferable Baron Whiskie. A heated argument had erupted near the edge of the village, within the protection veil—hunters sparring with guards.

  “Order from Baron Whiskie,” I announced, raising a hand. Every eye snapped to me. Hailstorm met my gaze.

  “It’s been a while, Lune. What’s the word?”

  I forced a tight smile. Hours earlier, Baron Whiskie had dismissed me with a practiced smile. "The League is already on their way. A lady has no business in weather this foul." So I'd been forced to wait, fuming.

  A roar tore through the woodlands, sharp and close. “Let’s go,” I said, beckoning Hailstorm.

  He shrugged, slung his weapon over his shoulder, and we sprinted toward the cobbled path. Cold wind whipped through the rain, carrying distant roars.

  “Baron’s order?” he asked.

  “Relax. Just bring back a good result, and nobody will care,” I said, smacking his broad shoulder. A sharp, high-pitched cry from a child cut through the rain ahead. Our eyes met. Someone was in trouble.

  The cobbled way had turned to mud. Ahead, a woman and two girls spotted us, shouting that three boys were still fighting.

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  The beast came into view, massive and cornering them against the tree line. Hailstorm’s bullets brought it to its knees.

  I stepped forward, hand on my mythril blade. The black-haired boy watched, breath held, eyes wide but unafraid. Lucky boy, to witness this up close.

  A controlled breath. The world sharpened. I saw the angle—the precise weakness—and my hands moved on instinct.

  I unsheathed my sword.

  The moss-hopper fell.

  The job from Yarissa was finished. At last.

  ??????????

  Late evening. Clouded sky.

  Cobbled way.

  Moss?hoppers were small, timid animals. They had long, fluffy ears.

  I used to think they were cute.

  We ate them all the time.

  I didn’t understand how something so small could become a nightmare.

  Today was the scariest day of my life.

  Thomas, Allen, and brother Julian were hurt. The moss?hoppers could smell us even when we hid. When they stomped and dug at the floor, roaring, I hugged Millie and thought—we’ll die here.

  Lucia and Thomas went outside to face them. I cried until my chest hurt.

  Then the giant one came. Bigger than anything I had ever seen.

  Was it their king?

  Lucia called upon the fierce giantess from the stories—strong like the nameless gods Xanthia used to tell us about. The beast was sealed in ice.

  I thought it was over.

  It wasn’t.

  When the ice broke and the monster rose again, my legs failed me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

  Lucia and Millie dragged me away. We ran toward the village. Lucia was bleeding. Millie was crying. I shook so hard I couldn’t stop.

  I was useless.

  A burden.

  And then I saw her.

  Near the edge of the woods, beneath a great tree, a small girl wandered alone—clumsy, hopping, wrapped in a brown coat.

  Why was she here?

  As we passed, she turned.

  Her eyes were blood?maroon, threaded with gold. I couldn’t look away. Fear seized my heart. She looked surprised. Curious.

  Then she smiled.

  Not kind.

  Not cruel.

  Something else.

  I screamed.

  The world went dark as Lucia and Millie’s voices faded.

  Until the very end, I saw only her face—

  And the long, fluffy ears atop her head.

  Just like a moss?hopper’s.