Flick hated the idea of leaving Kyra by herself, but after the near miss with Adele, it was clear that the forest wasn’t safe for him and the younger girls. So when the flat stone near Mercie’s window turned to signal an all clear, he took Idalee and -Lettie back to the old woman’s house. Kyra set up camp in a cave nearby with a small stash of food and supplies from Mercie, and Flick left her there with a promise to return soon.
Mercie ran a tight ship. Flick, Idalee, and Lettie posed as grandchildren of a friend of hers who’d come upon hard times. They had chores every day, but the workload was reasonable. After a few days, Mercie went into the city and brought back news, along with a note on a piece of parchment.
“It was left for you at your old home,” she said, handing it to Flick.
The message was actually for Kyra. It looked like she’d been using Flick’s address without telling him again. Flick didn’t mind, though the vagueness of the wording piqued his curiosity. The next day, he packed up some bread and dried meat, and set off into the forest.
He walked quickly, not eager to spend any more time out here than he needed to. Kyra hadn’t wanted him to come to the forest at all, but she was such a consummate city lass, and Flick worried about her having enough to eat. He supposed she could have hunted, but she hadn’t seemed very eager to change shape.
The bare winter landscape was both a blessing and a curse. It made it easy to see people coming from far off, but also made it harder to keep oneself hidden. He found himself scanning the trees as he walked, wondering if any Demon Riders were watching him. His recent encounter with the Makvani had been one of the most frightening and fascinating experiences of his life—to be so close to death, and then to be granted entry into a world that only a handful of humans had seen. It had been terrifying, yet Flick had also come out of it feeling strangely honored. The Makvani were a brutal people. There was no doubt about that, and Flick had seen humans die at their hands. But his experience in the forest had shown him that there was more to the Makvani. Their culture, their way of being together…it made him wonder.
He was mulling this over when two Demon Rider women stepped out of thin air.
Flick stopped in his tracks, feeling a prickle travel down the back of his neck. He knew only one person who could move undetected like that, and that was Kyra—though he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that these women were just as silent. The first woman he recognized as Adele, the one who had tried to kill him. The second woman was a stranger, much taller than the petite Adele, statuesque with a long, graceful neck and chestnut curls. Her arm was in a sling.
As he stood frozen, Adele stepped forward. She walked with the same Makvani grace that he’d grown used to seeing in Kyra, though there was an otherworldly quality about Adele, something about her movements that was not quite human. She regarded him with her head cocked to one side, like a bird. (Flick wondered briefly if he should amend that to a cat watching a bird. But she’d been friendly enough the last time she came.)
“We mean no harm,” she said. She held something sizable and grayish brown in front of her like a platter. When she came closer, Flick realized it was a dead rabbit. Newly killed, by the look of it, with blood still matted in its fur. She held it out to him.
“This is for you,” she said. “In thanks for the herbs.”
“Thank you.” Flick took it from her, doing his best to give the impression that he received dead rabbits as presents every day. “This will…be a welcome addition to our dinner tonight.”
Adele gestured toward her friend. Even that motion seemed smoother on her. “Mela’s shoulder is greatly improved.”
Mela’s shoulder. Of course. The woman standing in front of him was the injured demon cat he’d helped. As if following the direction of his thoughts, Mela met his eyes and inclined her head.
“I’m glad,” said Flick. He paused again, wondering how best to proceed.