At forty-nine, perhaps she should have been more cynical. Her kids certainly had been. Now that her sons and daughter were full-grown adults, they tended to treat her as thoughshewas now the helpless child in need of guidance. They’d been against this whole plan right from the start.
But she’d dismissed their concerns. It had been easy enough to come up with excuses for any oddities about Camp Thunderbird. Director Zephyr had been a nice young man, and if he seemed to hold a few distinctly non-mainstream beliefs about animal spirits, that could be attributed to his Lakota heritage. No doubt the question on the application form was just a way of making sure potential counselors were in tune with the off-beat ethos of the camp. The director had told her during her interview that he’d created Camp Thunderbird as a place for kids to ‘get in touch with their wild sides,’ after all.
Even the difficulty she’d had in contacting the camp in the first place hadn’t really rung any warning bells. It had been clear from the director’s repeated emphasis on the need for privacy and discretion that Camp Thunderbird wasveryexclusive. No wonder they didn’t seem to need to advertise… well, anywhere.
Now, however, Honey could not deny that there was something strange about Camp Thunderbird.
This was due to the ax.
It was a large ax. Honey was in a good position to appreciate this, because it was currently less than six inches from her nose. She could see her own frozen reflection in the shining, double-headed blade.
Honey was fairly certain that normal summer camps were not guarded by enormous men wielding axes.
“Halt!” the man with the ax declared.
This was rather unnecessary, since Honey’s legs had decided to stop working the moment he’d leaped out of the bushes. She was beginning to regret getting out of her car to inspect the gate blocking the road. She was beginning to regret quite a lot of things, in fact.
“You stand at the border of Camp Thunderbird,” the ax man said, as though she might have missed the sign on the gate announcing CAMP THUNDERBIRD - PRIVATE PROPERTY - AUTHORIZED STAFF ONLY. “Friend or foe?”
It was a simple question. Honey was dimly aware that she should be able to answer it. Unfortunately, at the moment the only word she could remember was ‘ax.’
It was averylarge ax. What the man holding it looked like, she had no idea. The ax rather monopolized her attention.
“Friend or foe?” the man repeated. He turned the ax a little, letting light glint along the razor-sharp edge. “Speak quickly, and speak true. And if foe you be, prepare to face the wrath of Ragvald Ragnarsson of Clan Fyrgard, born of Eastvald Steading and pledged by oath to guard this land for the season’s span. I shall defend this camp against any trespasser, no matter how mighty.”
At the moment, Honey did not feel very mighty.
“Ragvald,” said a new voice. “Ragvald, no.”
Much to Honey’s relief, a hand pushed the ax blade down. It belonged to a tall black woman, her braided hair dyed a deep shade of indigo. She wore a Camp Thunderbird t-shirt, and an expression of unutterable weariness.
“I’m so sorry about this,” the woman said to Honey. She turned to the ax man, dropping into the patient tones of someone who was barely restraining the urge to scream. “We talked about this, Ragvald. When someone approaches the gate, you say…?”
The ax man’s forehead furrowed, like tectonic plates colliding. “I issue the formal challenge, with all proper courtesy. Did I not do so?”
“Words, Ragvald.” The woman rubbed her own forehead as if she had a headache. “The words are important. Please stick to the script. Now try again.”
The would-be ax murderer made a disgruntled rumble, but bowed in acceptance. “As you command, Princess.”
The man hid the ax behind his back. Now that Honey could see anything other than her imminent death, he wasn’tthatalarming. True, he had muscles like oiled boulders and a beard that could have comfortably housed an entire family of ferrets, but there was a kindly, good-natured set to his rugged features. Still, Honey had the distinct impression that if she blinked the wrong way, the ax could reappear without warning, and at high speed.
“Papers and ID,” he pronounced, in exactly the same way he’d saidFriend or foe?After a moment, he added, as though it was a foreign concept: “Please.”
Mouth still too dry to speak, Honey fumbled in her bag. She fished out her signed employment contract, along with her driving license.
The man took the papers, scrutinizing them with deep attention. Then his bearded face split into a broad, beaming smile.
“Be welcome, shield-sister!” he announced, as though he hadn’t been threatening to reduce her height by a head a moment before. He flung out his arms—wait, where did the ax go?—as though to pick her up in a bear hug. “My heart rejoices that we shall stand side by side, comrades in arms through this great venture!”
“Er…” Honey’s brain was still lagging a minute behind this conversation. “Thisisa children’s summer camp, right?”
“Indeed it is.” The tall woman plucked Honey’s paperwork from the big man’s hands and passed it back to her. “Welcome to Camp Thunderbird, Honey. I’m Moira, head lifeguard, and of course you’ve already met Ragvald. Sorry to give you a heart attack like that. We have to strictly control access to the camp, of course, but Ragvald’s taking security a littletooseriously.”
“Impossible,” Ragvald said with great dignity. “Nothing is more important than the safety of children. And I thought my challenge went well. Better than last time, at least. We did not have to chase this one.”
Honey finally recovered enough of her wits to manage a smile, though her heart was still thumping against her ribs. “It’s nice to meet you both. Can you tell me where to go from here? I’m afraid I don’t know my way around the site. I wasn’t sent a handbook or anything.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get all that today, during staff training. We have to be careful how much information we mail out in advance, just in case it falls into the wrong hands.” Moira turned to point a remote control at the gate. It swung back smoothly, revealing a dirt track winding through lush forest. “Head on up to the parking lot, then follow the signs to the center of camp. I’ll call ahead to let Leonie know you’re on your way. She’s our head counselor.”
