"The Willow 03" by Katherine Bates

Peter

Marty leant on the door frame, watching Willow as she slept in the rocking chair. He turned away guiltily, these feelings should have stopped a long time ago, but still, they were there; he couldn’t help it. He wished he could rewind time and keep his memories, use them to prevent any of last summer happening again; but it wasn’t possible.

A paw tugged at his trousers and he turned to see Karen looking up at him with her big, yellow eyes.

“I’m thirsty.”

“Tea?”

“Water…please.”

Marty smiled and told her to stay there whilst he fetched it. He passed the glass over as she sat on the stairs and tipped his head to the side.

“That wasn’t all, was it?”

Karen shook her head, “The fae, who is she?”

“Willow, she’s a friend of the hybrids.”

“Is she your friend as well.”

“Sort of.”

“You love her? Why don’t you and her?… like my mother and father.”

“You’re a wolf child?” he asked, surprised that there were still pure hybrids being born; the separation of male and female had nearly stopped that completely. Karen nodded,

“Why don’t you?”

Marty smiled sadly, “Because life isn’t that simple, a lot of things happen that make things that should be simple, complicated. You see?”

“Yes. Thank-you for the water.”

Marty watched her walk up the stairs and frowned, a pure hybrid, no wonder she seemed so wolf like. He turned and there was Willow standing in the doorway, smiling.

“You’re good with cubs.”

He walked past her, trying not to meet her eyes incase she had seen him watching her. “I’m not, I’m good with wolves.”

“What’s wrong, Marty?”

He turned back, eyes narrowed, “What do you think? I’ve been gone almost a year and the two times we’ve spoken… you’ve changed. What’s happened? I… I used to know you.”

Willow lowered her eyes and moved over to the sofa, sitting down neatly in one corner. “I understand, Marty. My father…”

“He is not your father.”

Willow ignored Marty and continued with what she was saying, “When he found out about us, and when… well you know what happened. I was still his child, his word would have been held as law if I had spoken to anyone else; you know that. The only thing I could do was stay, I didn’t want to. He changed me… I know he did, he didn’t want me to go to the assassin’s appointment because of this,” she gestured at her hair, “I…”

She broke off and gave a loud sob, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. Marty dashed to her side, putting an arm about her shoulder and pulling her towards him, “Hey now, I didn’t mean…”

She pushed him away, “No, I can’t…”

Marty grabbed her shoulders and held her still,

“You can do anything you want. What do you want most right now?”

“I want for my father to forget about me so that I can…”

Her eyes opened wide and her muscles went as rigid as a block of wood. “Willow? Willow!”

She slumped forwards, eyes rolling upwards and Marty jumped back slightly. He looked at her, lying there in his lap and then flicked his eyes to the side, trying to ignore it. Only, he couldn’t, because she was there, and she… she was all he wanted. He shifted her round until she lay with her head on his chest whilst he laid comftably on the sofa.

The sun crept in through the window several hours later and Marty blinked uncomftably, twitching his head from side to side.  He looked down his nose and blinked, and then remembered.

“Willow?”

She grumbled and squeezed her eyes shut, “What?”

“Willow.”

“I know, I was awake an hour ago.”

"Did I hear that right?”

She turned her head to look at him and then sat up, smiling, “I was trying not to wake you. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No. Willow... What happened last night?"

She shook her head, "I don't know, I really don't."

"Willow, I…” He faltered, suddenly unsure of himself. She smiled softly at him. She stretched out a hand and then changed her mind.

“I know Marty, honestly, but I have to concentrate on working out how not to get killed by my… by the master magician; I want to change back to the way I was before, as well.”

He caught her arm as she went to pass him and she turned back. “Let me help you, please.”

“The best thing you can do now is to remember me, I have to leave.” She broke away from him, collecting her cloak from the stand in the hall. Marty ran after her, unable to think of anything to do.

“Willow!”

Turning, hair spinning out in a mirror of her skirt, she stepped towards him. She traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips and smiled sadly, “Marty, I promise that I will come back to the Lady’s realm, but right now… Do you understand?”

“The Master Magician will kill you if he finds you, I know that. Let me protect you, please.”

“No.” She backed towards the door, hand on the door handle; she twisted it as she shook her head, “If he finds you with me, he would kill you or worse, I will not give him reason to hurt you.”

She opened the door, shutting it in his face and ran as fast as she could across the square. She heard the door open behind her, but he did not come after her; she did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed, but whichever she kept running.

She only stopped running after five or six miles as she came to the brow of a low hill. She ran a hand through the long grass of the meadow and cupped a hand around a small purple flower; her palm tingled at the touch and she realised how long it had been since she had touched the magic realm. She sighed and looked around.

Just where was she going? She asked herself. What are you doing and why, more importantly, did you runaway from Marty when he only wanted to help? She desperately wanted to go and talk to True Thomas, he would help her make sense of it all; but he was in the Lady’s High Realm, she couldn’t go back their now.

She slumped down to the ground and picked at the long grass, weaving it into a bracelet. Closing her eyes she slipped the bracelet on and let herself connect with the world around her. If she had been thinking straight she would have made more charms and chosen their makeup carefully, but for now this would have to do.

Setting up a watch spell, she let herself flow through anything that lived, down through the earth, jumping from root to root, leaf to leaf and petal to petal. A mortal horse touched her consciousness and she jerked a little. The mortal creatures were so different to the Fae Realm; the fae was soft, soothing and coloured cool whilst the mortal was bright and fiery. Willow was one of the few to be able to find mortal creatures and so her mind driven contact with them usually went unnoticed.

She passed by the mortal horse and continued to spread out, looking for another mortal creature. Thomas stood by one of his other mortal horses and Willow approached carefully, conscious of his sensitivity to Fae magic. She brushed against him and saw his fire cool a little.

“Willow?” he asked, the word a whisper on the stream of life.

“I need help.”

“Where are you?” She sensed him turning physically, trying to sense her position; she shifted her stream of a mind around, letting it swirl on the currents.

“It doesn’t matter. Thomas, I need to find the rebels; they are the key to everything.”

“No.”

“Thomas! Please. The master magician, he’s done something to me, and I know it happened when we went looking for the rebels.” There was hesitation from Thomas, and she could tell from the colour change that he was thinking about the Master Magician. “I don’t want you to do anything rash, I just need advice.”

“Where are you? I’ll come and find you.”

“No. Just… what do you know about them?”

Thomas sighed, a question; his mind took the equivalent of a deep breath,

“They live in the unclaimed area, between the Lady’s Realm and the Land of the Dark Queen. It is said anyone who enters there is instantly forgotten, their disappearance is rationalised in everyone’s mind; but that would be strong magic.” He paused, “Willow… I don’t think you should do this alone, your magic is weak at the moment.”

“I didn’t have time to prepare anything properly.”

There was a silence between them and then, at length,

“Willow? Where is Marty?” He sounded worried,

“I left him in the village, with the wolf cubs; I couldn’t stay.”

“Let me send you one of my horses, enter a town somewhere and someone will help you when they recognise the horse. You can trust them.”

“I don’t want to involve you Thomas.”

“I’m involving myself. I’ll send you Hunter, he’s the most skilled.”

“Thomas…”

“I want to help.”

He broke away from her and took himself out of the stream. She drew herself back and sighed. A horse or help from someone else was not really what she wanted, but the information had been useful, she had a direction now.

She slipped the withered bracelet from her wrist and pushed it under the ground. Leaving it behind was a risk, anyone sensitive to magic would be able to find it, but Shira could not stand to let the magic lie dormant in the dead leaves.

Without waiting for Hunter to arrive she started out, keeping the hood of her cloak over her head despite the warm sun; she might not be wise of everything in the world, but she knew enough to keep herself from being recognised.

Hunter caught up with her in the late afternoon. He pushed his head against her, eager for her to ride; but she refused, preferring to walk. Looking into his eyes Willow could almost be deceived into thinking that he was fae. Years of breeding in the fae realm must have been doing something to their blood; they were much more inquisitive and intelligent now.

He pushed at her again, and Willow turned, something was different this time. She tipped her head up, trying to sense anything, but without her charms there was nothing. He pushed at her again.

“Alright, Hunter.” She clambered up and gave him a friendly pat. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what it was that you felt? No, I didn’t think so. Let’s find somewhere safe, a town.”

Willow spent the night tucked away in the corner of an inn, trying to hide herself in the shadows. This wasn’t a ‘safe’ place; this was a place for thieves, murders and unemployed mercenaries. Hunter had suggested it, and though Willow saw the logic she wasn’t happy about it.

At the bar, two scruffy looking men were staring at each other with narrow, dangerous eyes whilst a group of others stood, waiting expectantly. Willow judged it time to leave the bar and check on Hunter.

She slipped out of the door just as one man leapt at the other. Outside, in the cool night air, she let herself relax and out of the pools of light she let the hood of her cloak drop back.

Hunter wasn’t happy in his stall, he wanted a field, but for Willow he was happy to stand it. She scratched him behind the ears, “We’ll leave before dawn, I don’t like it here either.”

He snorted and then stamped his foot. Willow turned and found herself trapped in the corner of the yard with a dark figure approaching. She could hear claws scraping on the earth and the legs seemed not quite human. They took a few steps forward and Willow gasped involuntarily. Wolf.

His nose wrinkled and the ears flicked, “Willow Thomas I presume?” he asked in grating voice. Willow looked at him; he was the stereotype of a male wolf-hybrid: Tall, dark furred, fierce claws, bright yellow eyes and a voice that would make even a hardened soldier cower. Willow was not faring much better, her knuckles had turned white as they clutched at the stall door and her throat seemed frozen.

“The horse,” the hybrid continued, Willow tensed further. “It belongs to True Thomas.”
                Willow relaxed visibly, “Thomas sent you?”

“Not exactly, I owe him a favour, he told me to help anyone that came with one of his mortal horses, though this one is…” He shook his head, “You shouldn’t stay here, come on.”

“But…”

“There isn’t really time to argue. Go and collect you belongings, I’ll be waiting outside in the street.”

He turned away and left Willow standing there with Hunter, at a loss to what to do. Hunter nudged her gently and Willow took the hint, hurrying off to collect the few things she had left in her room.

Coming back down the stairs she heard a scuffle and she paused in the last pool of shadow, holding her breath as she watched the two men grapple below. The taller, bulkier of the two forced the other against the wall. In the dim lamp light she recognised the other as the inn keeper.

“Where is she?”

“Who? You haven’t told me who.”

“The girl!”
                “We have lots of girls here, all the time…”

“Not that type of girl. Green hair, green eyes, Higher Realm.”

“I don’t know,” stammered the inn keeper, as the other tightened his grip. “I don’t know.”

The inn keepers caught sight of her foot on the stairs and his eyes went wide. “Upstairs! Upstairs!”

The other slammed him back against the wall again, “Stay here! I’ll be back.” He began to move towards the stairs and Willow saw his face for the first time. It was strong and masculine with a large running across his nose that bent it out of shape. She couldn’t forget that scar: The Mortal Bounty Hunter.

Willow was frozen for a moment and then she ran back up the stairs, conscious of every sound she made. She had to get out of the building.

She slipped into the second door that overlooked the yard. She listened carefully at the door, and, assuring herself that he really was coming up the stairs, she slid the sash window open. She climbed through and clung with her fingertips to the sill. The ground loomed at her menacingly with its hard, unforgiving paving slabs 10ft below her swinging feet. Swallowing, she tried to pull herself back up; this hadn’t been the best plan.

Her right hand slipped and, hanging by her weaker side, she felt herself begin to fall. She opened her hand, bracing for the impact. She rolled on her shoulder as she hit and scrambled back into the shadows. She held her breath and waited.

“Damn!” came the voice from above and she felt him move away from the window. She ran over to Hunter and slid back the bolt, stroking him on the nose,

“Time to go Hunter, whoever he is.”

He flicked his ears in agreement and trotted forward as quietly as he could. Willow smiled, Hunter was much more fae than mortal.

Outside in the street, the wolf-hybrid was waiting for them along with a giant of a horse. The violet eyes of the horse glistened in the darkness and inspected Willow and Hunter.

“What type of horse is that?” came the thought from the giant horse. The wolf-hybrid laughed quietly and looked at Willow,

“You’ve had some trouble?” he asked.

“The Mortal Bounty Hunter.”

He frowned. “Up, now. I’ve had dealings with the bounty hunter before. We’ll talk later.”

“But…”

“The Mortal Bounty Hunter is not a man to be trifled with. Come on.”

She pulled herself up onto Hunter and followed after his black fae horse. She glanced back and saw a figure exit the inn.

“Umm…” she started to lean forwards to tap the hybrid on the shoulder.

“I know, pull your hood up. He hasn’t seen us yet, and he hasn’t actually seen you before, only has a description.”

“How do you…”

“I said we would talk later. Hood up.”

Willow pulled the cloak back over her head and low over her eyes. The Mortal Bounty Hunter walked up to them and faced the hybrid. The Bounty Hunter frowned slightly,

“I’ve seen you before. Remember the offer?”

“Aye, I remember. Money first, yes?”

The other nodded. “What have you got?”

“Money.”

The bounty hunter handed six silver coins over. Willow’s breath caught in her throat as the hybrid smiled pleasantly back at the bounty hunter. “A girl, on foot, heading east, ‘bout five minutes ago.”

The bounty hunter thanked him and stepped away again, he paused. “If I find out you’re lying Joseph Dener, you will not live to see the sun rise.”

“I didn’t lie.”

The mortal walked away and the hybrid gestured Willow to follow. As they passed the last dwelling he leant across to Willow, smiling, “The name is Peter Straugh, and you owe me a big favour Willow.”

They looked at each other for a moment and then broke eye contact. Peter Straugh smiled, “You know the ways of the wolf very well. Are the rumours true?”

Willow wanted to ask: What rumours? But she changed the subject, after all, she knew nothing of Peter Straugh.

“How did you know my name?”

Peter grinned, “I know many things, including your tricks.”

She frowned from under the hood, suspicious. “What tricks?”

“Did you not wonder why he didn’t even look at you? I mean, there you are all covered over and he never once tried to take a better look at you.”

“You know the tricks of The Magicians?”

“Not exactly, but from what I know I think my tricks are much more like your natural talent than the rituals of The Magicians.”

“I didn’t know…”

“Only pure hybrids can, the human blood blunts the senses.”

Willow opened her mouth and then shut it, realising she would sound foolish protesting her human heritage whilst her hair and eyes were green. Peter narrowed his eyes at her, as if he could read her thoughts.

“I wish you hadn’t given your name as Dener.” She said suddenly and the hybrid grinned,

“The rumours are true! I knew it! The old dog! I wouldn’t worry about Dener, he can look after himself.”

“I was thinking of other Deners, Marty doesn’t go by that name anymore.”
                “There aren’t any, not anymore.”

A quiet fell between them, a pregnant pause that hung heavy.

“Where are we going Peter?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“It doesn’t matter, but surely you’ve paid your debt to Thomas.”

“Aye, but if I pay back more than I owed, then he will owe me, as you do. Also I have… let us call it an ‘interest’ in you. If you can trust Dener then you can trust me.”

“Then you can leave, why do you think I was by myself in the first place?”

He snorted. “I’m staying. Where are we going?”

They scowled at each other for a long while, trying to outdo each other. Willow looked away first, “The Wildlands, that’s where this happened to me.”

He nodded as if he understood. “Why aren’t you with the Master Magician then? If it happened in the Wildlands then I assume he was with you at the time.”

She gave him a withering look. “That is none of your business, is it?”

“It might be. I don’t know, do I?”

They stared at each other, and then Peter Straugh grinned. “I think this journey is going to be quite interesting.”

“So… what exactly are you looking for?”

They had been travelling for three days now, wandering aimlessly through the Wildlands. Peter had wanted to try and find a direction for them, or at least a vague one, but Willow had persuaded him that their best chance was just to follow intuition, or magic. Once they had settled the direction argument, Peter had moved into why and where.

“The rebels.” She answered blankly for the umpteenth time.

“Yes, yes, I know that, but they are just a means to an end, that isn’t what you’re actually looking for is it?” he studied her face carefully; “If you’d just tell me then I would stop asking.”

“Look, if I tell you, do you promise not to ask any more questions?”

“Hand on heart.”

“Your toes are crossed.”

He grinned, “It would be boring otherwise. Are you going to tell me?”

She sighed and wound her fingers into Hunter’s mane. “Fine. We went looking for the rebels; we spent weeks in the Wildlands searching for them. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but I woke up back in the Higher Realm, and then this happened.” She gestured at her hair. He smiled sympathetically,

“It makes you look like a fae.”

She ignored the comment and continued on, “The Master Magician wouldn’t let me out of my home, I knew something was wrong, he also put Marty up for the position of The Lady’s Assassin.”

“Ah.”

“So I left, and I want to go back to how I was before. That’s what I’m looking for, a way to go back.”

“Back? When exactly?”

“I don’t know.”

Straugh studied her carefully, the puckered mouth, downcast eyes that were solemn in their new sea green colour. Straugh could almost believe that he was halfway to understanding her, but from Marty he knew that she was far complex than she seemed at first glance… or second. He left his thoughts unsaid and kept quiet for the rest of the day.

The dull, grey flat land slowly gave way to rolling hills, and then well tended fields. Cresting a hill they found themselves in a rather green and almost pleasant valley. If Willow hadn’t known better, she would have said it was Realm tended, rather than the property of a non-affiliated village. That set both Willow and Peter thinking; but without stopping Willow could neither confirm nor deny their suspicions.

They followed a well used trail down into the valley; Hunter’s shooed hooves clicked against the stones loudly, the sound echoing through the eerily quiet valley. Straugh frowned to himself,

“I don’t like this Willow, we’re far out of The Lady’s realm now; it’s unlikely that we’ll find a welcome reception here.”

“Remember I don’t look like me anymore, and you’re a hybrid.”

Peter frowned at her this time. “I can see your thinking, but that only follows if this is non-affiliated.”

“I don’t want to take the chance of stopping to check if it is.”

“I thought you wanted to find them?” They looked at each other and Peter nodded. “What do you need?”

Coming to a small brook they left the horses to water and settled themselves where they couldn’t be seen from the road.

“I’ve never done it like this before.”

She smiled slightly. “It’s nothing to be worried about; I just need to borrow some of your… talent.”

His ears turned to her voice. “Borrow?”

“I’m not strong enough to control the magic I need to use for this, even though I could summon it. With your help, we can control it between us.”

His ears flicked. “I don’t like the idea.”

“I know, but it’s the only way we’ll know.”

“And if it is affiliated?”

Her smile widened. “We run.”

Linking hands they stretched out their talent to each other; Straugh using the fused wolf and human instinct within him; Willow using her namesake connection with the braids around her wrists and the band through her hair. They drew in the magic from all that was around, taking just a little from each living creature and amassing the energy until they reached their separate limits.

Straugh opened an eye, “Is that enough?”

“It will have to do. Just keep it under control.”

Straugh kept their mental contact but let go of her hands, his part done in this. His horse, Foxtrot, nudged him. He pulled a grain cake from the pack and handed it over, “Greedy guts.” He muttered to himself.

His gut twisted as the energy drained from him and he reached out, half blind, for Willow’s hand. Her palm was slick with sweat and he could feel her being slipping away from her body. His gut twisted again and saw his own energy seep through his fingers and into her body. Not good.

He stretched further with his mind, locking onto her consciousness.

“We’re in trouble.” He told her.

“Let go of the energy, all of it.”

“We can’t, we need to it to get back out.”

“Trust me on this one, please.”

“I…fine, fine, it’s gone!” The blackness swam and then fell away. Orange red light hit his eyes and something wet touched his cheek. Forcing his eyelids open he pushed Foxtrot away,

“I’m not dead yet,” he grunted to the horse, “it’ll take a lot more than that to finish me off.”

Willow was already beside Hunter, checking the horse over. She turned her large green eyes on him, “You took longer to come round than I thought you would. You have to go back.”

He frowned and sat up, not understanding. “Back?”

“I can’t ask you to come with me, I’ve reached The People and I’m not about to put you in any more danger.”

“Wait a minute!”  He scrambled to his feet, “I’m not going to leave you now. If we’ve found The People, then I have even more reason to stay, I’m not going to leave you here alone.”

“Peter…!”

“I’m staying.”

“You’re go…” she tipped her head to the side. “Here, take Hunter.” She pushed the lead rein into his hand and grabbed her cloak from the floor.

“Where are you going?”

“Just remember you haven’t seen me.” She pulled the hood up and crouching down, ran back to the road. Willow lowered the hood over her eyes and risked taking a glance along the dirt track. A cloud of dust came over the top of the next rolling hill and Willow could just about see the multi-coloured braids on the horses. She ducked back and hurried back to Peter.

“You need to go now.”

“Why?”

“There are hybrid hunters approaching. Take both the horses, with Hunter you’ll be admitted entrance to the Higher Realm. Go.”

“I…”

“Go, now!”

She turned away, not waiting to see whether he would go. She pushed her way up the bank again and pushed her way through the vegetation and onto the road. The three riders on the road drew to a halt two hundred yards from where she stood. The braids hung down from the stolen mortal horses like dreadlocks, bringing their heads down low and bowing their necks.

A rider, perched on a great black horse, dismounted, the heavy armour rattling as he landed. He stepped forwards, taking the braids of the horse in his hand. Willow could sense his eyes narrowing, trying to work out who she was, whether she was prey or not.

She shifted the cloak as if trying to hide her hands and face. The rider motioned to his companions and they began a slow advance on her. Willow tensed, ready to run, but she cautioned herself not to break too soon; she had to be sure they would keep their attention on her and not notice as Peter made his escape.

The first rider mounted again and came to join his companions. Willow watched the toned muscles of the horses and realised what a bad position she was in; she could never hope to outrun such animals, they were the mortal hunter horses, built for endurance.

They came to within a hundred yards and she started to back off, stepping back one carefully measured step at a time, balancing on the balls of her feet as cat-hybrids were known to do. The horses snorted and tossed their heads, multi-coloured braids moving rhythmically. Willow could feel the vibrations through the ground as they approached, sense the charged frustration of horses that wanted to run and chase. She backed off again, fought the rising panic and forced herself to wait until the right moment.

The horses picked up speed. Willow turned and fled, trying desperately to keep the hood up, at least long enough to make sure they wouldn’t give up the chase. The ground seemed to fly under her, dips, rocks and thistles passing in a blur; her legs seemed to move too slow for the speed at which she moved.

She saw trees in the distance and then suddenly she was amongst them. She stumbled through, ducking and diving through the tangled branches. She heard the horses slow up behind her, snorting, and risked a glance back to check they were still following.

The three were standing at the edge of the wood, horses tossing their heads. Willow paused, heart thudding in her ears; they couldn’t turn back now, Peter hadn’t had enough time to get away. The hybrid hunters urged their horses on, forcing the horses to break through the dead wood with their chest. Willow watched them for a moment, stunned that the hunters could even think of endangering their horses just for one hybrid.

Her mind went into over time, her plan that they would eventually give up was not going to work. She turned away and pushed her way on, now she had stopped the going seemed harder and the hunters seemed closer. The snapping of dry wood echoing through the forest, thundering loud. She stumbled on, her mind going faster than her feet but coming up with nothing.

The trees gave way to open meadow and Willow sprinted towards the only thing in view, a large oak tree in full leaf. A single branch hung lower than the rest, just reachable is she jumped to it. The sound of the horses changed and she glanced back in time to see them emerge into the meadow.

Her foot caught awkwardly in a hole and she heavily in the long grass, her cloak lying in a heap in front of her. She lay for a moment with the light summer breeze playing through her hair and felt, rather than saw, the clouds roll through the blue sky above.

Her sensitive fingertips felt the three horses thunder towards her and Willow struggled to her feet. She moved as fast as she could, green hair flying in the wind; but her ankle felt sore and bruised and she could only manage a half run. But it might be enough, it had to be enough.

She jumped as hard as she could under the shelter of the oak and felt her finger tips just reach the branch. She grasped desperately and felt the rough bark bite into the soft skin of her palm. Panting heavily she pulled her self up as the hunters passed underneath.

Move, she told herself, move now before they realise you’re not a hybrid. She prayed they hadn’t seen her hair, no hybrid had green hair. The horses snorted beneath her and the tree shook as two of the hunters dismounted. The other positioned himself carefully and then stood up in the saddle, reaching up a hand to grab her ankle.

Panicking she scrambled up the branch, too late to realise her escape that way was blocked by a heavily armoured hunter. The eyes narrowed behind the helmet. Frozen to the spot she was powerless to move as the hunter reached up from below again and tugged at her ankle. Her hand slipped from the bark and she felt herself falling. She stretched out a hand and brushed against the horse’s head, nails grazing the delicate nostrils. It reared back as she hit the floor and Willow saw her chance as the hunter fought to control the great animal.

She leapt up, limping badly now, and struggled to the tree. There was no way she was going to outrun the horses now, but she might be able to defend herself for long enough. Long enough for what? She asked herself. She didn’t know.

The long hunting knife quivered in her hand, rattling against the buckle hanging against her leg, as the hunters closed in around her.

“You’re not a hybrid.” One said flatly; if this had been court she would have given him a withering look, but this was out here, away from The Lady’s Realm, and so she simply waited for him to continue, biding her time.

“Speak your name quickly, fae, are you of The People?”

She remained frozen against the thick trunk of the tree, knife held close to her side.

He grunted and turned to the other two, “Either she’s stupid, or very clever, tie her up and we’ll take her back to the fortress.”

He turned away. Fortress! Willow leapt forward as hard as she could, hoping to surprise him and dash past. He turned round, hands reaching out to catch her arms. He smiled,

“I think we can safely say she is clever.”

He tossed her to the floor like a rag doll and she sat there, stunned. The other two pounced on her, binding her hands behind her. The hauled her up onto the back of one their horses, lashing her to the saddle. The one who had spoken mounted up behind her and chucked the reins of his horse.

“No funny business now.” He warned, “They won’t look kindly on that where we’re going.”