He heard some scuffling around him, then saw a gray blur in the trees, circling him. Tristam dropped into a defensive crouch. Footsteps sounded behind him. He turned and almost dropped his sword in shock.
Lettie stood ten paces away from him, as surprised to see him as he was to see her. The girl was bundled up in a wool tunic, trousers, and a cloak. Her cheeks shone red from the cold, and she was taking in big gulps of air, as if she’d been running very hard.
“Lettie!” Tristam said. “What are you doing here?”
The girl gave him a shy smile. “Ho, Tristam.”
“Does Kyra know you’re out here?” he asked.
“Aye,” Lettie said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m playing with my friends.”
He was about to ask her to explain further when two young demon cats, the yellow blur and the gray blur, crept out and did their best to hide behind Lettie—not incredibly effective given their size. The yellow one peeked out occasionally to stare at Tristam but retreated whenever Tristam looked back.
“And these are your…friends?” Tristam asked.
Lettie blinked up at him. “Flick was worried too, but he still lets us play. All the Demon Riders watch us.” She pointed to the yellow one. “This is Libena, and her brother is Ziben.” Lettie turned to address Libena. “Tristam’s nice. You can let him pet you.”
He really would have preferred not to, but Lettie was beaming up at him and he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. It did help that these cubs had features clearly marking them as babies—large head and eyes, and soft, downy fur. The gray one crept closer, step by step, and finally rubbed his flank against Tristam’s knees. Ziben was about three times the size of a house cat, and Tristam reached out carefully to stroke his back. The kitten yawned, revealing tiny, sharp fangs.
“I told you Tristam was nice,” said Lettie smugly.
Following her brother’s bravery, Libena circled closer. She was considerably larger, standing as high as Tristam when he was on one knee. When she leaned against Tristam’s back, it took some effort on his part not to be knocked over. Both cats sniffed at him, sticking their noses in his face. Ziben’s chest was rumbling. Was that a purr?
Eventually, the two kittens lost interest. Libena moved away first, and Ziben soon followed suit. Libena stepped toward the trees and looked expectantly at Lettie.
“Good-bye, Tristam!” said Lettie, and ran off after them.
He watched them disappear, feeling as if he had come out of some bizarre dream. His cloak was covered with strands of gray and yellow fur.
“It is interesting, isn’t it?” said a new voice behind him. “How easy it is for the younger ones to fall into new patterns.”
A prickle passed over the skin of Tristam’s arms and neck, and he turned around to face Pashla. He didn’t reach for his weapon—that would have violated the unspoken truce between them. But it was hard to be civil to the woman who had stood by calmly while her companion killed Jack, and who had wounded Martin and delivered him to his death.
“I won’t lie,” he said. “I worry about Lettie’s safety.”
“As do Kyra and Flick, but the girl is stronger than she looks,” said Pashla. “Lettie and the kittens have become fast friends. There are some among our own number who object to this, but others urge them to let Libena and Ziben pick their own companions.” Pashla paused. “Kyra and Flick hope for peace between our peoples. Do you share that hope?”
It would have been safest to lie to her, but to do so seemed a betrayal of Jack’s and Martin’s memory. “I hope for peace,” said Tristam. “But I cannot see how it could come to pass, if your people view us as mere animals to be slaughtered.”