“Yeah. My name’s Fiona, in case you don’t remember. You were just a Daisy then.”
A Daisy was an untried scout, named for the yellow ribbon sewn into the collar and edges of the green jacket that all scouts owned. The jacket had been in a pack Shea had stolen on her way out of camp and was the reason why Eamon had assumed she was assigned to his scouting party.
Needless to say, she hadn’t worn the yellow long. Only until the Trateri realized the extent of her skills and promoted her to a full scout.
“I’d forgotten the name, but I do remember the face,” Shea admitted.
“Is that normal? How those men talked to you?” Fiona asked, tilting her head back at the Trateri they’d just saved.
Shea shot a glance over her shoulder. The Trateri massed around the vines. Most kept a careful distance, but some intrepid individuals poked at the vines with swords and jerked back when the vines tried to grab them.
“I’ve never had anybody be quite so blatant with their disrespect before.” Shea’s response was slow and careful. She wasn’t one to talk about such matters, especially with strangers. Lately, she’d been trying to be a little bit more open, having experienced some of the friendships with the Trateri scouts she had worked with. It was a work in progress.
“In other words, there has been disrespect.”
Trenton looked over with a frown. Shea ignored him and shrugged. Fiona could make of that what she would.
Fiona walked beside her in silence for a moment, her forehead wrinkled in thought. Shea was content to leave her to her internal musings, instead preoccupied with looking around the camp.
There wasn’t enough room in the treetop village for the entire Trateri army, though the villagers had offered hospitality to Fallon and his top officials. They’d rejected it, giving the excuse that they needed to stay close to their men.
The truth was that they didn’t trust the villagers, who had treated the Trateri horde as odd friends come to visit. The Trateri were used to at least a token resistance and were flummoxed at the lack of one upon their arrival.
Shea suspected that was because the villagers didn’t see the Trateri as a true threat. While their military prowess would guarantee them victory on the ground, it would be difficult to fight a battle where the opponent had the advantage of the high ground. Quite literally in this case.
The moment the Trateri tried to ascend to the world above, the villagers could fade into the forest, using the numerous interlocking branches that created a network of paths. The Trateri would be hard pressed to follow.
Fallon and his generals knew all this, which was why they couldn’t understand why the villagers had agreed to provide him with a tithe and a few of their hunters. Had in fact seemed overjoyed to do so.
Shea suspected it was because the villagers saw in the Trateri an opportunity. In many ways the tree people of the Forest of the Giants were advanced, more so than any in the Lowlands. They’d managed to build houses that defied gravity and logic. They did this because the dangers on the ground far outweighed those of the air.
There were two worlds in this forest, that of the below and that of the above. The forest floor had its beauty, but it was filled with numerous more dangerous plants and beasts than the canopies. Because of this danger, only the best hunters ventured to the forest floor. It led to their people being isolated with little trade with the rest of the Lowlands.
The Airabel saw the relationship with the Trateri as a way to become connected with the outside world again. Their population was small, and they were in danger of inbreeding. They hoped the exposure to the Trateri might lead to an influx of new blood.
Until the Trateri became a direct threat to the Airabel, they would act in good faith with Fallon. Since Shea was sort of responsible for their discovery, she hoped that continued to be the case. She’d like to avoid having their blood on her hands.
“I’m amazed these people could build that,” Fiona said gesturing to the village suspended high above them.
Shea looked up. It was impressive. Breathtaking—the first, second, and third time you saw it. A feat that defied the imagination as it integrated seamlessly with the nature around it.
This place was one of Shea’s favorite to visit. She respected them, and for her, that was rare. They worked with nature instead of against it, and it paid off.
“Are there more places like this?” Fiona asked.
“I’m not sure. I think there are a few other villages throughout the forest, but this is the only one I’ve ever visited.”
“I was raised to see Lowlanders as weak, ineffectual people who wasted the abundance of riches their lands provided. For the most part, that view has held true.”
Shea kept her own council. Fiona wasn’t necessarily wrong. Shea had said something similar to Eamon and Fallon once. Still, it was more complicated than that, and Shea knew that you couldn’t make sweeping assumptions with any accuracy.
“And now?” she asked. “How do you see them now?”
Fiona flashed a smile. “Still ineffectual and weak. Cowards for the most part.” They walked several more steps. “But I’m beginning to realize that might not be true for all Lowlanders. That maybe there are a few exceptions.”
Shea threw her a questioning look. That sounded like it was directed a little closer to home. Fiona looked back at her with an open expression.
“We Trateri are a hard race. We think we know a person’s measure as soon as we meet them and can be slow to change our minds.”
Shea looked away, wondering where Fiona was going with this.
Fiona continued after a beat. “Once our loyalty is given, though, it’s forever. You’ve already started on that path. Don’t let a few stupid people convince you to stray from it.”
Ah, Shea saw now. Fiona was trying to comfort her, give her something to hold onto when things got rough. Shea was tempted to tell her it was unnecessary, that she’d been here before, and the things said then were much worse. She hadn’t had friends like Eamon, Buck and Clark to stand up for her. She hadn’t had the support of a warlord.
She didn’t say any of that though, taking the advice in the vein it was meant. She gave Fiona a respectful nod.
“Don’t worry, I’m a lot more stubborn than I look. It would take more than a few harsh words to run me off,” she assured.
Fiona snorted. “Good. I’d expect nothing less from the Warlord’s Telroi.”
The two parted ways shortly after, Fiona heading to see if her commander had any need of her and Shea off to see the scout commander of the Western Wind Division. She wanted to see if she could twist the commander’s arm into sending her out on a mission. He owed her a favor or two from all the times she’d saved his ass.
CHAPTER TWO