Page 112 of Starside

I can relate. I am also, in this moment, afraid of their mother and the glorious set of arrows that she wears.

The immortal woman frowns. Then, as if to calm my fears, she places the coin on a branch. “Here you are. Sorry to have disturbed you.” With another sharp look at the children, she begins to walk away. I watch her, pulse racing.

Only when she’s on the other side of the forest do I creep forward and roughly pocket my coin.

I’m about to turn to go when she says, voice projecting from yards away, “That knight. He won’t find much in these woods. We’re too close to the rot and mists for any large game to come near.”

She saw Raker. And she’s still alive, which means she likely didn’t try to attack him.

My stomach turns with hunger and sinking disappointment. So that’s why he hasn’t been back in more hours than usual.

Damn.

“We have food.”

I slowly look up at her. She might as well have told me she has the gods themselves, tied up and ready for me to slaughter.

“The village isn’t far. We could get you dinner for the night.” My stomach lurches again. My mind becomes solely focused on the idea of something, anything, filling it, but still, I don’t make a single move, and she continues. “It would be the least I could do. In … apology for my sons’ actions.”

Why would an immortal even care about her children stealing from a human? I’m about to refuse, hoping I can find another fertile bush, but her gaze flicks up to the sky and the gathering clouds there. “It’s going to rain through the night. At the very least, let me offer you a roof. The local inn isn’t much, but—” Her words are unspoken, but I get her meaning. It’s better than sleeping outside in the downpour.

“Which way to the village?” I say.

We can’t trust immortals. But when Raker finally walks through the trees and hears the same offer, he must know as well as I do that we are in no position to turn down food and a roof.

We follow the immortal and her children through the woods, and I hope this isn’t just another mistake.

Raker doesn’t say a word during the walk to the village, even as the two boys zip around him, asking a thousand questions—about his sword, about his armor, about his size, about his hood and mask. His silence only seems to feed their fascination.

“Leave them both alone,” the woman says, her voice tired, like this is a regular occurrence. Them is a generous term, because, other than my coin, the boys don’t seem fascinated by me at all. They only want to see the knight.

“Are warriors not common?” I ask the woman, catching up to her pace. At the very least, getting information is better than listening to the boys and their endless inquiries.

She glances over at me. Her features are sharp—and pretty. She has deep tan skin and dark hair tied low. “They are,” she says, mouth tightening into seriousness. “But the boys don’t see them.”

Interesting. I wonder what she means.

“Mother never lets us downstairs at night,” one of the boys loudly complains.

“I shouldn’t let you downstairs during the day if this is the trouble you find,” she says through her teeth.

The boy rolls his eyes and goes back to antagonizing Raker.

“Are children … are children common for immortals?” I ask after a while.

“No,” she says simply. “They are not.”

I look over at her. At her weapon. “If large game isn’t found near here … what do you hunt?”

“These arrows are not for hunting game,” she says simply.

And with that, the hill crests, and I see the beginnings of a small village. There’s a mill. Winding roads, and alleys, and buildings bunched together. But that is not what my gaze snags on. It is not what makes a lick of fear slide down my spine.

“What is that?” I breathe.

A forest sits just east of the village. At least, that’s what I think it is. The weave of white trees is nearly wholly blocked by a thick wall of mist.

“That’s the Bone Woods,” the woman says, not stopping. I unroot myself, to keep up. She doesn’t even look at it, and I wonder if it’s because of fear, or disgust, or the indifference of familiarity. “With its mists.”