Completely uninterested in whoever this Allister was, I let my thoughts drift back to the betrayal I had just witnessed. Angry that Jake could turn on me after all the help I had given him—and so easily! Hurt pumped through my chest, leaving me cold. Frigid and still, I waited until the slavers began to pack up their wares, hoping there might be enough noise to cover my exit.
Reckless as I ran through the trees, I let my anger stew. I seethed until the tear-streaked faces of Jake’s children flashed before my eyes, and I skidded to a halt.
Jake was a man who would do anything to protect his family.
A choked sob escaped my throat, surprising me. Tears? For someone who had just betrayed me? But I knew in my heart I would have done the same thing if it meant I could have saved my parents.
Had I made a mistake in not staying to help the Trapper family? Of course I had. If I couldn’t fight to save my fellow humans, then why was I struggling so hard to survive? It all seemed like a huge waste of effort if I couldn’t do any good with my life. Turning on my heel, I backtracked as quickly as possible, though my attempts to remain quiet slowed my progress. By the time I returned to the remains of the camp, they were gone.
It wasn’t hard to track them through the snow, as slavers never bothered to hide their passing. I followed as quickly as possible until I could hear travelers in the forest. My only chance at a rescue would come at night when everyone was sleeping. Hanging back, I waited for my chance.
I’d learned most of what I knew about survival by watching the animals, but it was through trial and error that I realized my digestive system was fundamentally different from a bird’s. That not all berries were safe, despite the avian feeding frenzies I’d observed and the pleasant, if bitter, aftertaste.
It was a lesson learned from a night curled in the fetal position, vomiting until I was sure I had cracked a rib. So consumed with my misery, I couldn’t so much stand on legs that trembled and quaked.
But a lesson, nevertheless.
One that could be put to more sinister purposes, for as I trailed behind the captured Trapper family, I noticed a tree laden with the last of the summer’s horrid little red berries. Dry and thoroughly picked over by the birds, but whispering a plan of action.
When night fell, I waited on the outskirts of the slaver’s camp, as far away from the Trappers as I could manage—if one of the children saw me and called out, the game would be up.
When the larger of the two slavers went to sleep, I threw a rock into the forest as hard as possible. It bounced off a tree, and the remaining slaver’s head snapped up. He stared in the direction of the sound for so long that I feared he wouldn’t get up to check.
“Probably just an animal,” he said absently as he walked toward the opposite side of the clearing.
Dropping from my lofty perch on silent feet, I hurried to the camp coffee simmering over the fire, dumped the powdered red berries into the pot, stirred, then retreated to the darkness to wait.
When the smaller slaver woke his partner for the change of guard, I waited long enough to watch them each drain a mug of coffee before I drifted off to sleep.
Dawn was breaking when I heard the musical sounds of retching. Two of the largest men I had ever seen in my life, taken down by a simple fruit. The red berries earned their place as a force to be reckoned with and a feature spot in my arsenal against the Empire.
Creeping across their campsite, I looted the small man’s prone body for the keys to the Trapper’s restraints. He didn’t react when my hand brushed his skin, so I slipped the keys out of his pocket, moving as slowly as possible.
The Trappers were all staring wide-eyed at me, and both parents had their hands pressed to the children’s mouths. I unlocked the two adults, handed the keys to Rhonda, and then motioned for Jake to follow me.
“Follow my lead,” I whispered, handing him a set of cuffs. Cautious of startling the smaller slaver out of his nausea-induced stupor, I gently took each of his wrists in my hand and chained them together. Jake did the same with the other, who had woken up long enough to swear at Jake and continue vomiting.
“Mila, I—”
“Stop,” I said, anger bubbling to the surface. “I want nothing more to do with you, traitor. Take your family and run to the coast. Don’t stop until you get there. I think it’s about a day’s hike from here. These two will be sick for the next day or two, so you’ll have a head start. Don’t waste it.” Turning to leave, I glanced at Jake and his family over my shoulder. “Take care of each other.”
“Thank you, Mila,” Rhonda said, her voice stiff.
I didn’t bother looking back.
3
As aloof as I tried to seem, I knew the Trapper family would stay with me for a long time. I’d fought hard to save them, and I took several important things away from my first slaver experience.
The Tritans—my people—had become a rare commodity, and slavers would do just about anything to get their hands on me.
And I was tired of hiding. Of watching from the trees and learning how best to be alone. If I could make life just a little harder for the Caledonians, maybe I could make amends for the Tritans I’d abandoned when we first took refuge in the forest.
But if I looked like a Tritan, I would surely become a target. On the other hand, if I looked like an Eloran, I would be nothing more than a nuisance. An enemy of the state who’d be given no mercy for the crimes I planned to commit.
The answer was simple. It had been staining my hands a dark, unwashable brown from the first days of my life in the forest.
Walnuts.
