Pryderi shifted the spear in his hand. “It’s not?”
“No,” said Branwen in an undertone. Then, much louder, “Hello, friend.”
The polecat sniffed the air.
“It’s a pwca,” Branwen whispered. “Shape-changed to look like a polecat. They can be helpful, if you do them a kindness.” She dug into her pack and withdrew a small honeyed cake. It looked a little squashed, but the sweet scent drew the polecat’s attention.
“We won’t harm you,” said Branwen. She set the cake down. “Step back,” she said to the others. “Back, back, back.”
They all backed up, half stumbling over roots and grass. The polecat’s whiskers pointed forward as it skittered toward the cake.
“There you go,” said Branwen. It was the soft, soothing tones that one used for a child or animal. “See? We’re not here to hurt you.”
The polecat reached for the cake. Then it froze.
Gwydion realized their mistake too late. They had forgotten to account for their cat.
Palug growled. He had fluffed himself up to twice his normal size. He looked like an angry black-and-white storm cloud.
“Palug, no,” Branwen said, reaching for him.
The cat yowled a battle cry. The pwca-polecat seized the cake, then sprinted toward a tree and scampered out of sight. Palug tried to follow, but Branwen threw herself at the cat and scooped him up. He howled with impotent fury as she carried him away.
“Well, that was useless,” said Branwen. She looked down at Palug. The cat had given up his squirming and sat in her arms with a glum expression. “You can’t murder everything we come across, you little monster.”
Palug grumbled under his breath.
“I believe that’s cat for ‘I can try,’” said Gwydion.
Pryderi gazed at Branwen with a cool awareness.
“What?” said Branwen.
“You knew that was one of the folk,” said Pryderi. “You did not guess. You knew.”
“I’m not sure a pwca is truly one of the folk,” replied Branwen. “They’re not as conniving as the tylwyth teg.”
“You knew,” Pryderi repeated. Then he looked at Gwydion. “One of the many secrets you mentioned?”
“It’s a long story.” Branwen set Palug down and pointed at her right eye. “I can see magic. It’s why he hired me. It’s why I can hunt monsters. Because their illusions don’t work on me.”
Gwydion tensed. He was not sure how the prince would react to such a revelation. If Pryderi responded badly, Gwydion would be ready to defend her.
“You can see monsters?” said Pryderi quietly.
Branwen nodded. “Magical ones.”
Several emotions flickered across Pryderi’s expression. His lips pressed tight, as though he did not trust himself to remain silent. “That seems,” he finally said, “a useful skill to have.”
“It’s served well enough.” Branwen turned and picked up the trail. “We should keep moving.”
They walked until Branwen gestured them to another halt. They stood at the edge of a small thicket of birch trees and ferns. “I think there’s something up ahead,” she said softly. “See how those leaves are broken? Something trampled them.” She drew an arrow, nodding at Pryderi and Gwydion. “Stay here.”
“I can help,” said Pryderi mildly.
Branwen said, “All right. Gwydion, you take Palug. I don’t want him flushing anything out until I’m ready.”
“So I am on cat duty?” said Gwydion.
