The morning started with Tomas insisting dried apples counted as a proper breakfast.

  “They are fruit,” he said, as though this settled the matter. “Dried fruit. Efficient. Portable.”

  “They are sadness,” Roderick replied flatly. “That is what they are.”

  I rode between them for several minutes before deciding I preferred not to intervene and nudging Altivo slightly ahead.

  Behind me, Nadine was practically leaning off her seat on the wagon, explaining something about containment matrices to Mara with all the fervor of a scholar who had not slept nearly enough.

  “They're not disappearing or flattening,” she was saying. “That was only the visible result. It’s a spatial negotiation.”

  Mara nodded solemnly. “Of course. A negotiation.”

  “It is,” Nadine insisted. “There are rules.”

  “I am certain there are.”

  I glanced back. Mara’s expression was entirely straight, but there was something in her eyes that made it clear she understood perhaps half of what Nadine was saying and did not mind in the least.

  When the wagon jolted over a rut, Nadine swayed. Mara’s hand came up instantly, steadying her at the waist. Nadine did not protest or even pause her explanation.

  “…and if I adjust the boundary threshold—”

  Her hand remained there a moment longer than the rut required. I looked forward again before they could catch me watching, quietly amused with the ease between them that had not been there weeks ago.

  “Do you ever stop thinking about runes?” I called back.

  Nadine looked mildly offended. “Do you ever stop thinking about alchemy?”

  “That is not the same thing.”

  “It is precisely the same thing.”

  "It's completely different," I insisted. "I'm really good at alchemy."

  Mara leaned slightly around her. “She talks about you the same way, you know.”

  Nadine turned so sharply she nearly fell from her seat. “I do not.”

  “Do too.”

  I laughed before Nadine could recover, and for a while the road felt less like a corridor and more like something shared. As we closed in early afternoon and began looking for a likely spot to stop for lunch and our mid day break, I watched the sky slowly begin to fill with clouds again. The air smelled like snow, but none of us wanted to say as much and tempt fate.

  “What I don’t get,” Mara said, turning her attention back to me, “is how you could have those wings and not use them more.”

  I felt my grin before I realized I was wearing it. The cloak shifted faintly against my shoulders as I flexed, the hidden weight responding as naturally as opening a fist. Even concealed, I could feel them there, eager and ready.

  “Who says I don’t?” I asked.

  Nadine’s head snapped up. “Mirela—”

  “I’ll go check the road ahead, be right back!” I called, already swinging one leg over Altivo’s back.

  I hit the ground in the same motion, shrugging the cloak from my shoulders and tossing it neatly over the saddle horn. The cold air bit immediately at my back, and the next breath I took felt larger somehow, fuller.

  Behind me, Nadine began, “At least wait until—”

  I leapt before she could finish.

  The world dropped away in a rush of wind and instinct. My wings snapped wide, catching air with a sound that was half thunder, half silk tearing. For a heartbeat I hung between earth and sky, and then the lift took me.

  The road shrank beneath me, the wagon no more than a moving dot against the winter-browned fields. I climbed higher, the chill sharpening against my face, the scent of distant snow stronger up here.

  The forest stretched on without end. From above, its scale became undeniable. It poured between the mountains in the distance, filling valleys and shadowed passes alike, an ocean of dark green and black that refused to yield to horizon. Even the road felt temporary from this height, a pale scar running along something ancient and patient.

  I banked, turning in a slow and deliberate spiral, scanning ahead and behind. The road behind us was empty of movement for miles, and ahead was no different. The Forest looked calm beside us, with no indication of a hidden threat threading between the trees.

  There was only the wind, and the sense of space so vast it made my chest ache. For a few stolen moments, I let myself climb higher still. But there was always a cost, and soon enough, I focused on finding a good place for our next break.

  My descent was slower. I circled once more, reluctant to give up the sky, before angling down toward the road and letting the wind ease me into a controlled glide. The ground rose steadily to meet me, hooves and wagon and familiar faces growing clearer with every second.

  I landed a short distance ahead of them and folded my wings in one smooth motion before walking Altivo’s way to meet the group again.

  Roderick and Tomas were staring very intently at the horizon. In opposite directions.

  Both of them had the rigid posture of men contemplating philosophy.

  I slowed. “Is there something of interest out there?”

  “Clouds,” Roderick said immediately.

  “Road,” Tomas added at the same time.

  I glanced from one to the other.

  Mara did not bother pretending. She rode up beside me, studying me for a moment before sighing faintly.

  “You might consider trousers,” she said.

  I blinked. “Why?” I glanced down at my outfit. “I don’t have any right now. Besides, my clothing is still in decent condition.”

  Mara only stared at me for a moment, then gestured sharply toward my legs.

  “Have you considered the logistical issues with flying around in that,” she said, “right over everyone’s head, out here in the open?”

  Nadine made a small, strangled sound beside us. When I looked over, her face had gone an impressive shade of red, her legs pointedly crossed.

  …Oh.

  “I am wearing appropriate underlayers.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Mara replied. “The rest of us are simply being forced to confirm that fact.”

  Behind her, Nadine covered her face with one hand.

  I looked down at my skirt, then back at the two men, who were still resolutely studying distant scenery that did not require such scrutiny.

  “Ah,” I said.

  I didn't think it was such a big issue, this outfit was practical for travel—for me, at least. I had simply not accounted for altitude.

  “Well,” I added, adjusting the fabric with a tug that solved nothing, “I suppose that is another reason to look forward to returning home.”

  Nadine lowered her hand just enough to peer at me. “Armor would also solve it.”

  “Armor?” I repeated.

  “Yes. Something properly fitted and functional. Difficult to lift accidentally.”

  “I have never worn armor, and I certainly do not own any.”

  “That is evident.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “I re—have healing magic. And I am fairly durable. It is redundant.”

  “You recover,” she corrected. “You do not negate force. Or fire. Or steel. Healing yourself means you have already been hurt. And how many times have you been seriously injured where something could have gone much worse?”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Mara hummed thoughtfully. “Also solves the skirt issue.”

  “That is not a reason to redesign my entire wardrobe.”

  “That alone?” Nadine tilted her head. “I would say it is already worth consideration. But the rest? That is an excellent reason.”

  I looked at the two men, who were still refusing to make eye contact with anything within ten paces of me.

  Perhaps it was not the worst suggestion.

  “No one at home wears armor,” I began, but when I met Nadine’s eyes and saw the genuine concern behind her teasing, I stopped. “I will consider it,” I said at last.

  Which, of course, only encouraged the two of them further.

  The rest of the day passed without incident. The road was calm, clear, and empty in the way it had been since we left the last outpost. If not for the growing chill in the air and the occasional distant cry from the forest, it might have felt almost ordinary.

  That changed as we approached the next town. At first it was only a wagon in the distance. Then another. Then a small train of them, moving east at a determined pace. The closer we drew, the more frequent they became. Merchants with loaded carts, farm families with livestock tied behind them, and even adventurers riding light and fast, not looking back. No one slowed to talk, and I couldn't blame them. If they were moving on now, they were going to be forced to either keep traveling through the night or camp along the road.

  When we finally reached the gate, one of the guards lifted a hand before we could even greet him.

  “If you’re looking for beds, you won’t find them,” he said. “Both inns are full. No room in the stables either.”

  “Full?” Roderick echoed.

  “To the rafters. Have been for a couple of hours, now.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “There's a merchant's camp set up opposite the forest. You’ll want to circle around before dark.”

  We thanked him and did as directed, though the sight of so many people pressed into so small a place unsettled the others more than they cared to admit.

  As we rode around the town’s outer perimeter, the forest loomed behind us, darker now with the sun slipping lower. I found myself watching the treeline instead of the road. It was just a hunch at first, but that quickly turned into the quiet sense of being observed.

  When I finally saw them, they were exactly where I expected to find them: at the edge of light and shadow, figures half-formed against the trunks, still and waiting.

  The Watchers, perhaps even the same ones I'd spotted before, were lined up just right to be missed by most eyes. It struck me as odd that they had appeared twice in as many days. The Forest was a very large place, and they couldn't be everywhere at once. Then again, with this many people gathered so close, perhaps it was coincidence. Or curiosity.

  As the sun dipped fully behind the trees, they faded with it.

  The merchant camp was already crowded when we arrived. Most of the tents looked freshly raised, ropes still taut and canvas not yet dusted with travel’s usual grime. A few merchants were arguing over space, while others sat near their fires with the strained posture of people pretending not to be worried.

  The town had posted a handful of guards as pickets along the perimeter, and a small group of mounted adventurers rode slow circles beyond them, mercenary patrols meant to reassure us all, no doubt.

  I was not particularly concerned. Roderick was.

  “I have never seen this road this busy,” he muttered as we unhitched the wagon. “Not here.”

  Mara nodded. “Not without a festival.”

  Tomas squinted toward the forest, then back at the line of tents. “Almost feels like we’re being laid out as an offering,” he said lightly. “If not for the guards.”

  For some reason, I was the only one who found it amusing.

  The evening passed with a tension that felt heavier than camping along the open road. The other groups nearby kept close to their fires, voices low, eyes often drifting between surrounding darkness, and toward the Forest beyond the town. It almost felt less like a shared camp and more like a loose circle of wary strangers, each pretending the others were not there.

  Sentries or not, we still slept in shifts. We preferred trusting our own vigilance to anyone else’s sense of duty.

  I did not mind. The night here felt familiar in a way the road never quite did. The forest breathed the same as it always had, deep and steady beyond the ring of lantern light. I slept very little, though not from unease. I simply enjoyed listening.

  By morning, we were the first to break camp, and the only ones heading west. That earned us more than a few long looks from the other travelers, the sort usually reserved for people who had misjudged the weather or their own mortality. With how guarded everyone had been the night before, none of them called out to us, and we did not stop to invite conversation. It would not have mattered. Nothing was going to turn us around.

  The road was quiet again once we left the crossroads behind us. Not empty, exactly, but those few we saw on the west side of town were obviously locals. Even they disappeared soon enough, though we did still see signs of other travelers. They were just of a less conventional sort. A few abandoned bundles lay half-hidden in the grass where someone had clearly decided speed mattered more than cargo. A broken crate rested in the ditch, its contents shattered in its fall. Even the wheel ruts in the dirt looked fresher heading east than west, though that might have been my imagination.

  It was nearing midday when Mara shaded her eyes and leaned forward in her saddle.

  “Dust,” she muttered.

  I saw it a moment later. A low plume rising in the distance, not the scattered drift of a single wagon but the thicker churn of a group moving with purpose.

  We slowed as they drew closer, and much to our surprise, it was not a merchant caravan. Most of them rode light, wore armor dulled by wear rather than polish, and carried weapons that were unadorned and practical. A pair of small wagons trailed near the center, not laden with goods, but with bedrolls and supplies. I spotted at least two bandaged arms before they were within speaking distance.

  Tomas straightened as soon as he could make out their faces.

  “Is that—” he began, then raised a hand. “Heiko!”

  The lead rider pulled up sharply at the sound of his name. He stared for half a breath before recognition dawned.

  “Tomas?” His voice carried equal parts surprise and disbelief. “What in the hells are you doing heading west?”

  The caravan slowed behind him, wary but not hostile.

  “Traveling,” Tomas replied lightly. “What does it look like?”

  Heiko’s gaze moved past him, taking in the wagon, the horses, the rest of us. It lingered on me for a fraction longer than necessary before returning to Tomas.

  “It looks like you’re about three days too late to reconsider.”

  Roderick shifted in his saddle. “Reconsider? What is there to reconsider?”

  Heiko exhaled slowly. “The forest’s been wrong. If you're headed for the guild in Angelshade, you'd best be turning back.”

  That silenced the small space between us.

  “Wrong how?” Mara asked.

  “Monsters pushing territory,” he said. “Day hunters near the edge, even the real horrors from the Deep Woods. Packs breaking their normal hunting patterns. We lost two good fighters to something that shouldn’t have been within sight of the road.”

  He gestured vaguely back toward Angelshade. “Fatalities are climbing. Only the most seasoned are still going in, and even they’re not staying long.”

  Tomas frowned. “And you’re pulling out?”

  “We’re moving during a lull,” Heiko replied. “Last couple of days have been… quieter. Not normal, just less chaotic. We’re not waiting to see if it returns.”

  That caught my attention.

  “Quieter?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Like something changed. No one knows what.”

  I kept my expression neutral, but it brought to mind the reappearance of the Watchers. I couldn't help but wonder if they were related, or just another oddity of what was happening.

  Heiko studied Tomas again. “You should turn around. No amount of coin is worth dying over.”

  “We can’t,” Tomas said simply.

  Heiko’s jaw tightened. He looked like he wanted to argue further, then seemed to think better of it.

  “Then don’t linger,” he said instead. “Get inside walls before dusk. The edge isn’t safe anymore, lull or not.”

  “We’ll keep moving,” Roderick assured him.

  Heiko gave Tomas one last measuring look. “If you’re staying in Angelshade long, find work inside the city. Don’t wander.”

  Tomas nodded once.

  The caravan began to move again, eastbound, armor and steel catching the pale winter light as they passed. No one looked relieved, only resolved. I watched them go until the dust swallowed them, then nudged Altivo forward. The wagon creaked into motion behind me, wheels grinding softly over packed earth.

  For a while, no one spoke.

  “Day hunters near the edge,” Mara said at last, her voice thoughtful rather than afraid. “What does that even mean? I always assumed the worst hunters would be out at night.”

  “That’s a mistake a lot of new adventurers make,” Tomas replied, shifting in his saddle as we fell back into our steady pace. “No one goes into the Forest during the day. At least, no one does it twice.”

  I nodded. “The Forest is more dangerous in daylight. That’s when the most lethal creatures are active. Normally.”

  Tomas glanced at me and grinned. “I forget you’re from these parts. Yeah. There are dangers at night too, don’t get me wrong. But daytime hunting is bordering on suicide.”

  Nadine leaned slightly in her seat, peering toward the treeline as we rode. “With how dark it looks in there from here, how do you even know? How do the monsters?”

  “That’s a trick of the light,” Tomas said. “You’ve got the sun in your eyes out here. Makes everything beyond the trees look pitch black. It’s dark in there, sure. Sun barely reaches the ground most days. But it isn’t blind dark.”

  “There’s bioluminescent life in the Forest,” I added. “Moss and fungus that glow faint blue at night. If you see that light, you know it’s dark.”

  Tomas made a low sound. “Yeah. Always thought that was eerie. Didn’t realize it faded in the day. Never waited around long enough to find out why.”

  I shrugged, smiling faintly. “The Lord of the Forest planned it that way. Makes trespassers feel more at ease. Encourages them to enter when it suits him best.”

  “Or her,” Mara corrected lightly.

  Nadine laughed, and Tomas joined her a beat later.

  “Don’t start with the ghost stories,” Tomas said once the laughter settled. “That’s just an old myth. No need to scare green kids with talk of something watching from the trees. The place is dangerous enough without inventing a ruler for it.”

  I blinked at him, genuinely surprised. I had never heard anyone dismiss it so casually.

  Roderick answered before I could. “I wouldn’t be so quick to discard it. People vanish in that forest without a trace. Right out from under their own party’s noses. The Laws of the Forest are always enforced. Something ensures that.”

  “Bah,” Tomas said, though his gaze lingered a little too long on the treeline as we rode past.

  I didn't bother to correct anyone.

  We reached the next crossroads town well before dusk, and it was immediately obvious that Heiko's caravan had not been an exception—The inn was packed.

  Not just busy. Packed. The place was a broad tavern, open enough to be a ballroom if the tables were moved, with two large inns attached, one on either side. Both had an open bunkroom on the ground level and private rooms above. It could support far more travelers than the town we'd left that morning, but it was still packed full. The common room was loud with overlapping conversations, too many cloaks hung along the walls, too many boots drying near the hearth. Merchants, adventurers, even a few farmers who looked as though they had not meant to travel this far.

  We managed seats for dinner after some negotiation and a promise to clear out as soon as we'd finished eating.

  The innkeeper was an older man with a voice that carried over the din without effort. He seemed less rattled than most.

  “Seen it before,” he said when Tomas asked if it had truly grown that bad near the Forest. “Long time ago. Used to be worse, even. Difference was, back then, there were more patrols. This was the normal rhythm of the forest, so there were more town guards, contracted blades, and even a few noble banners riding regular routes.”

  He wiped down the counter with slow, practiced motions. “Peace makes folk complacent. Fewer patrols these days. Fewer contracts. Forest pushes back a little, and suddenly everyone remembers it’s still there.”

  “You think it’ll settle?” Roderick asked.

  He shrugged. “Either it settles, or the patrols come back. Both are fine as far as I'm concerned. It’s business for me.”

  That earned a few dry laughs from the nearby tables.

  We did not stay long in the common room. The mood was too tight, the conversations too similar. People were afraid for their families. Adventures were mourning fatalities, or telling tales of near misses. And plenty more talk of monsters roaming in places no one expected.

  The next morning, the road felt different again. The snow had returned, thicker than before, though taking its time before sticking, and not slowing the traffic at all. It was busier right from the start. Two large caravans passed us before midday, heavy wagons creaking east toward Valoria. Their guards looked tired but organized, scanning the treeline as they moved. A handful of smaller parties followed behind them, clearly preferring the safety of numbers.

  Compared to the empty stretches we had grown used to, it felt crowded. The only thing that hadn't changed was our solitude in continuing west. By late afternoon, the land began to slope gently, and then the road curved around a rise.

  Angelshade came into view, dusted in white and lanterns already lit. The walls stood intact, though the gates were closed. Guards watched from above, silhouettes sharp against the falling snow. Despite all the panic, no smoke rose from siege engines, no banners burned, and there was no battlefield leading to the Forest's edge. It was not a city under attack. It was simply… alert.

  My chest tightened unexpectedly. I was excited, certainly. It felt like years since I'd first looked out on those walls. But there was something else too. A quiet ache at the thought of the road ending. Of this stretch of shared travel narrowing into stone and structure again.

  Nadine brought the wagon up beside me.

  “You look as though you expected fireworks,” she said lightly.

  I huffed a soft laugh. “Perhaps I did.”

  "This is our last stop before we turn into the forest,” she said. "You said you know someone here that can help?"

  Right. This was just another stop on a quest that could take us anywhere. This journey wasn't even close to finished. I glanced toward the Forest, and then back to the walls.

  "I do. She's very interesting. An adventurer, and she tells great stories. Knowing what I do now, I think she might even be a Bard of sorts. I bet she'll be very excited to see us."

  Sorry, I'm a little late today! I couldn't remember which story I promised Weaver I would shout, and he's super hard to get a hold of unless you have a Ouiji board! But it's this one, which I have definitely totally read because I am a great friend. But I love the concept! And I might even convince him he needs to add foxgirls one day.