“Soooowhat should I expect from town?” I asked, watching my footing as we trotted down the steep hill. The rain hadn’t started for the day, so the ground was firmer and easier to navigate.
“Has Ida told you about the species of Trebianna?” he asked.
“Seven, right?” The details were fuzzy, but I knew to be ready for variations on claws, fangs, horns, scales, and fur. I wasn’t worried. My Pyran and Quadmos introductions hadn’t felt so scary, other than being in awe howbigTheo was.
“Right. And you, are a…” He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. This was a test.
“I’m a Pyran; what a strange question.” I played along.
“And where are you from,Miss Pyran?”
“Kelarium.”
“And you’re in town because…?”
“I’m here with a friend who’s looking for a rare blue-purple pigment for his paints. He should be here any moment.” Classic anti-kidnapping tactic: making sure people didn’t think I was alone and unaccounted for. Basic street smarts.
“And you remember you have a weapon strapped to your thigh?”
How could I forget? It was pokey. “Yes, Theo. I will stab anyone who fucks with me.” I tried not to roll my eyes and instead smiled patiently.
“Atta girl.” A large hand cupped the top of my head and rustled my hair.
I peered up at my traveling companion between the massive knuckles splayed over my forehead. His shirt wasn’tmuch more than a piece of loose fabric covering his inner chest and back. My eyes followed the road map of his scars and tattoos and found a new crater-like pit just below his collarbone. My dad had one just like it on his shoulder. A gunshot wound.
“So, what do you do when you aren’t paying your imaginary debts?” I asked, my eyes returning to the path to avoid staring at the injury. Now that I’d noticed it, it was hard to unsee.
“I bartend.”
Welp. That doesn’t explain anything. “Anything else? Hobbies?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Owning my own pub takes up most of my time. I mean, I occasionally hike, but you knew that already.”
Trying to get to the bottom of his scars wasn’t happening, but the small talk was still pleasant. I only had one summer to learn about Theo, and he didn’t slow down enough to chat in my field. This man was on a mission to get this homestead built pronto.
Today, there was nothing to do but walk and yap.
“Mmmma pub,” I hummed dreamily. “What I wouldn’t give for a drink that isn’t water or tea.Booze? Be still my heart. I would doall sortsof unholy things for a beer.” My cheeks warmed as I laughed. It wasn’t until the words left my mouth that I realized thatmaysound a little suggestive, given he had just identified himself as a professional brewski-provider.
He must’ve not picked up on the solicitation, his expression remained stone-pleasant and locked on the trail. “Have you tried making juice out of the berries?”
“Juice would require access to sugar. Otherwise, it’s just infused water or tea.”
“Sugar?”
“Oh.” I occasionally had these moments with Ida, places where our very similar worlds didn’t overlap. “A sweet powder.”
“Gotcha.” He nodded. “We use ceelee here. I’ll get you some in town.”
“Ugh, that would besooooappreciated.” My head fell back while I let out a yearning groan.
Up ahead was a grove of teal-barked trees, distinct from the towering pines that made up most of the forest.
The interconnected branches formed a massive canopy—practically a roofed pavilion. Tiny white flowers intermixed with the blue-green leaves. These special orchards were scattered across the mountain, one sat not far outside of my field. At night it glowed turquoise through the darkness of the forest, tempting me to explore.
Of course, I couldn’t investigate at night, no matter how enticing the luminescence was. Those groves were said to house large nocturnal predators, best left feared and avoided—especiallysince the crystals didn’t work on them. According to Ida, the protective jars of herbs and blooddidwork, but I hadn’t decided where I’d get the blood to make my own. I wasn’t about to weaken her protective border by borrowing one in the name of pretty-glow curiosity.
In the daytime starlight, this particular network of low-branched trees was little more than a landmark indicating we were halfway to Ida’s cabin. Sometimes I passed it, sometimes I walked through. I hadn’t worn any trails into the forest yet, so I was always taking a slightly different route. It was fun to explorewhen the path worked out—even without the glow, the mix of deep teals, blues, whites, and taupe-gray was beautiful.
