“And Rizzo? He looked down at me like I was some kind of wild thing. He offered me a place. A gun. Achoice.I took it. I trained. I killed. I learned to survive.”
I look at the troll. At Kragna.
“But I’m still the same girl. Still chained in ways no one can see. Still pissed. Still broken. Still here.”
My voice breaks on that last word. Just… shatters. And before I can catch it, the sob comes. Raw. Ugly. From the pit of me.
I drop to my knees, not out of fear, but from sheer exhaustion.
“And now I’m here. In the woods. With a troll, a satyr, a mutant toad with a sword, and a fucking spider with a sailor’s mouth. And you want a song?” I spit. “Here’s your fucking song.”
Silence.
The fire’s crackle fills the silence I leave in my wake. It pops and hisses, gnawing on wet logs like a thing alive. Nobody says a word.
The satyr, Veeto—his mouth still open like he’s trying to catch flies. Toad Knight’s helmet glints in the flames, but hiseyes are on the dirt. Even Charen’s quiet, which for her is practically a blood moon miracle.
Kragna, though… he just watches me. But different now. Not like meat. Not like prey. There’s weight in his stare—something heavy, uncertain, like a storm deciding whether to fall or pass.
The pain claws at my insides, a low grinding throb. I can barely stay upright. My muscles are trembling like I’m trying to hold the sky up with a splintered stick. My stomach lurches with each breath, and everything spins when I blink. But I refuse to fall.
He moves.
Big, slow, deliberate. Hooves crunching in the dirt. His horns catch the light, casting long shadows against the stone and moss. I don’t flinch. Maybe because I’ve got nothing left to lose. Or maybe because, deep in my bones, something tells me he won’t hurt me.
Not now.
Kragna stops a few feet away. His eyes flick to the others, then back to me. Then he crouches—massive body folding down like an old tree easing to the ground.
He holds something out.
A thick hunk of meat skewered on a blackened stick. Still steaming. Smells like rabbit. Or possibly raccoon. I don’t ask.
“You look like you need this more than I do,” he rumbles.
I stare at it. My hands twitch.
“Poisoned?” I rasp.
“Only by flavor.” A ghost of a smile plays on his lips.
I snatch it. The tremble in my hands is worse than I thought. I rip into the meat with my teeth, not caring that it’s hotter than dragon spit. It burns my tongue, sears my cracked lips, but I don’t stop. I chew, swallow, tear again. It’s greasy, spicy, and too salty—and it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
The others are watching. I can feel it. Like a dozen eyes crawling over my skin. But none of them speak.
Charen mutters finally, “Well. Shit.” Then she scuttles up a vine and out of sight, her web balloon bobbing behind her like a dirty insult written in silk.
Veeto coughs. “So, uh… we’re not eatin’ her then?”
“Not tonight,” Kragna says, voice low. “She told a good story.”
Toad Knight sheathes his sword with a shrug and waddles back to his stump. “A tale of valor and vengeance. Quite stirring.”
“Y’all are weird,” I mutter through another mouthful.
Kragna chuckles. Just once. A deep, strange sound.
He hands me a chipped clay cup filled with something that smells like gasoline and rotting apples. I eye it warily.
