Veeto nearly chokes on a sip of crabapple ale, slapping his hairy thigh. “Subterfuge? You barely know how to spell yer own name, let alone detect espionage.”
Toad Knight points his sword at River, who sits quietly beside the fire, cradling a warmed stone between her hands. Her face is pale, her limp still stiff, but she’s more alert today. Her eyes flick to the sword, then to me, unreadable.
“She’s here to soften you up,” Toad says, hissing like a punctured kettle. “Soon as your guard’s down—BAM! Poison in your stew, a knife in the kidney.”
“Pretty bold plan for someone who nearly bled out two nights ago,” Veeto mutters.
Charen swoops in, her web balloon farting gently as she lands upside down from a branch. Her eyes gleam with gleeful malice. “Would make a great bedtime story: ‘The Fool Troll and the Spy with the Limp.’ Ends with roasted innards and betrayal pie.”
River’s voice cuts through the din, low and sharp. “Y’all always this loud in the morning or is it a special treat for me?”
That shuts them up. I can’t help it—my lips twitch. She’s got teeth, even half-healed and outnumbered. Veeto whistles low. “I like her. Can we keep her?”
Charen clicks her fangs. “You can keep her if you salt her first. Human jerky doesn’t cure itself.”
Toad Knight doesn’t drop it. “Mark my words, Kragna. She’s danger wrapped in doe-eyes. I’ll gut her myself before she ruins you.”
I finally look him dead in the eye. “Touch her, and I’ll use your helmet as a chamber pot.”
Silence falls like a snapped snare. River blinks, surprised. Toad Knight croaks, deflates, and slinks off toward his usual stump to sulk and mutter about betrayal.
Later, the sun burns through the mist, and most of the menagerie has scattered. Charen’s weaving something obscene into the treetops. Veeto is snoring under the still. River limps her way over to where I’m sharpening a slab of bone into a ladle. She crosses her arms.
“I want to go back,” she says, voice flat.
I pause. “To where?”
“To Rizzo’s Rangers. To the fight. I don’t belong here.”
My gut knots tighter than a troll braid. “You sure you’re ready?”
She nods, but her eyes betray the tremble in her muscles. “I can move. That’s enough.”
I grunt. “I’ll take you.”
She blinks, startled. “Just like that?”
I shrug, trying to keep my voice even. “You want to go. I want to make sure you don’t get eaten by something dumber than me along the way.”
She laughs once—short, bitter. “So, not noble intentions?”
I look at her, really look. Her skin still bruised, her soul still bleeding. “Doesn’t matter what I want. You’re not a prisoner here.”
She studies me. I can feel her weighing my words, turning them over like river stones in her mind.
“You don’t trust me,” I say quietly.
She flinches just a bit. “Should I?”
That one stings. But I don’t let it show. “No. But I’m not the one who dragged you out of a river with half your insides trying to be outsides.”
River exhales and looks away. “I didn’t ask for help.”
“No,” I say. “But you needed it.”
She’s quiet a long time. “You confuse me, Kragna.”
“Good,” I mutter. “Means we’re even.”
