Rowan hadn’t flown since before Crescent was destroyed.

The last twenty years she’d spent hiding in a dank, dark cave system, and though she’d made fond memories there; raising her son, loving her husband, tending her garden, and living a quiet life of peace; it was all done of necessity, not joy. Rowan had silently raged against the stale and unyielding stone walls, the dull tedium of domestic bliss.

Rowan was kitsune. Her people swam in lava beds and flew with the firebirds. She was a creature of sublime freedom, yet she carried the full weight of her people’s memory. A quiet life was not her destiny, could never satisfy the gruesome rage that nestled and infected the deepest recesses of her broken heart.

Rowan loved her son. Of course she did, but he represented her last great hope to avenge her people. The two were inextricably linked. Ezekiel was her weapon to destroy Adam and bring peace to the screaming ghosts in her mind.

So Rowan was devoted to Zeke, the instrument of her vengeance, with her every breath. She nurtured him and fed him and trained him, in a sunless, windless place, for twenty years so he would grow strong, so he would be ready, so that when the day finally came, he would kill Adam. And then, at long last, Rowan could truly know peace.

But to fly! To taste the salt off the ocean’s crashing waves, to breathe in the clean open air. There was a kind of peace to it. Fleeting and superficial, but the joy! The freedom! Were Rowan of weaker constitution, she might have spent the rest of her long life in the sky; leaving everything behind, all her regrets, her shame at surviving, the weight of her promise; she could leave it all on the ground and never touch down again, ‘til her fire ran out and she fell as a rock. And maybe that would bring her peace.

But Rowan was ageless, one of the few ageless still living, and to endure eons requires a purpose. Revenge gave Rowan a singular purpose. Nothing and no one would deter her, not grief, nor comfort, nor even the love of a child.

So Rowan flew toward Safo, toward her friends and allies. Not to mourn the loss of her husband or child, not to find peace or a simple life, but to plan and organize the next steps toward that singular goal.

But first, she would have to stop at the nearest village. Rowan couldn’t fly directly to Morgan’s coinnigh or the hoodwinks would attack her in the air, defending their territory from Adam’s familiar spies.

And Rowan needed to feed.

So as Safo’s rolling green hills came into view on the horizon, Rowan lilted Southward toward the coastal village, adequately named Waterbreak.

Safo was the smallest of the Vulpen Islands. Safo’s people were a hardy, isolated, and rather superstitious folk. Before Adam found Vulpex, Safo’s leaders were highly regarded by Rowan’s people. Before, kitsunes were venerated and welcomed at Safo with grand festivals every year.

Those days died with Rowan’s people.

Adam’s Church ruled the island now. Safo’s leaders were little more than puppets. Rowan needed to be careful and covert. If anyone in the Church learned a kitsune was on Safo, they would tell Adam, and he would sink the island to the bottom of the ocean, massacring everyone on it, just to kill Rowan.

So Rowan landed far from Waterbreak and changed shape in the forest.

Rowan decided a man was the role to play for this task. She shapechanged into Reynard. He was an old form from back when Rowan was hiding out on Crescent as the Captain of the Guard for Steward Luther Avalyn.

Reynard was tall and handsome, with thick black wavy hair that was always elegant yet militaristically styled, never a strand out of place. His eyes were brown with shards of gold and green. His habits and mannerisms were easy and comfortable to slide back into, like old shoes.

He was unarmed. Rowan fled with few possessions. Everything Reynard wore was part of the shapeshift. He hadn’t fed since the night before the cavern attack, so he was light-footed and hurried to Waterbreak.

How did they find us? Reynard wondered yet again. He’d never seen anything like those bizarre insect-plant things before. Whom did they serve? Probably Lilith, he reasoned, but he couldn’t know for sure. Not yet. If Lilith had orchestrated the attack, she would want Sam alive. At least until she found a way to Zeke.

Reynard would have to risk it. He had to try to contact Sam.

But first, he needed to feed. His heart was burning low.

The escape, the shapeshifting, the fight at Haven, the flight to Safo, they all drained his fire, and now his ingot was almost a smoldering ember.

Reynard walked the rest of the way to Waterbreak.

No one would recognize him. Reynard had never taken this shape on Safo before. But they would notice him. Reynard was a stranger in a small town. And a tall, good-looking one at that. Reynard heard quiet whistles as he entered town.

Reynard told the guards at the gate he was visiting an old friend, and he’d stowed his boat up the coast. He’d only be in town for a night before hiking up to his friend’s coinnigh. He was just looking for a meal and a drink. The guards kindly pointed Reynard in the direction of the biggest tavern in town, situated just off the port.

It was a dingy little building, built of cobblestone and logwood. The roof was made of straw and the door was always open. There were two stories: bedrooms upstairs, bar and tables downstairs. A young man with a lute sang a passable tune on a box in the corner. Men sat on stools at the bar while families crowded around tables. People seemed good and buzzed, chatting amiably. The smell of something roasted wafted from behind the bar.

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This might be easy, thought Reynard.

He sat at the bar, ordered a drink, and turned to face the open room with his head high and shoulders back. He was hunting; for man or woman, it didn’t matter; whoever Reynard found agreeable and willing. In a glance, he inspected every face in the crowd.

A man sitting across the bar was watching him. He was on the young side of middle-aged, athletic, with a full head of red curls and hungry eyes. He wore tailored black robes with gold trim. Reynard held his gaze for a moment and watched the man’s sharp intake of breath and green eyes dilate.

This will be easy, Reynard thought.

Reynard turned to face his drink, a hot brothy soup.

He asked the bartender, “So what’s the news in these parts? Any good rumors?”

The bartender was a short, barrel-chested woman. She cocked her head as if to consider the question. “What were we talking about, Colin?” The bartender asked another man at the bar. He was in his third age, with grey hair and a deep smile lines along his face.

Colin answered, “You just missed the big announcement. Church Brothers want to burn the forest on Safo. They say the woods are unholy and dangerous. But that’s the nature of woods! They want the people to support the burn, but I doubt that’s likely to happen, or make much difference either way.”

“What do you mean, the woods? Which woods?”

“He means every last tree on this island,” whispered the bartender with hatred. The chatter in the tavern drowned her words out from eavesdroppers. “They think something unholy is hiding among the trees, and whatever it is or they are, Adam wants them burnt out, but he doesn’t want to feel bad about destroying another island, so he wants the Church to convince us to do it ourselves.”

Reynard considered their position and was horrified. “What’s got them so scared of the woods?” he asked Colin and the bartender.

Colin answered, “Lately, people up the island been having the same nightmare. Been going on a couple weeks now. Some of the Church Brothers report they’ve seen it. Reports of night terrors go up the deeper into the woods you venture.”

“Of course,” added the bartender. “There’s no way to prove anyone had the same dream, or if it’s just a passing fad and everybody wants the light to fall on them for a moment. Maybe the dreams are a coincidence. People aren’t all that different.”

“Sure, Joan,” conceded Colin. “But I had the nightmare, too. And I’m not much of a dreamer. I’ve never dreamed anything so real. It’s like I was there! I could taste the ocean breeze!”

Joan the bartender looked disturbed. She fidgeted with her bar key.

“What happened in this dream?” Reynard asked.

“I was on a beach. There was this great, big, beautiful tree with green and violet leaves. And Adam was there, floating in the air, erasing the tree from existence. There was all these creatures I’d never seen before, screaming out, and then silence. I was erased. And that’s when I woke up.”

Reynard almost fell off his stool. He focused on staying calm and collected. He glanced across the bar at the man with the hungry, shy eyes. He was still watching Reynard.

“Interesting,” Reynard said casually. “But that’s all? A pattern of bad dreams?”

“Well, that and the weather,” Joan answered. “Apparently, the Church thinks lightning storms and clouds are suspicious.” She rolled her eyes.

“Well, I hope this injustice gets settled peacefully,” Reynard said. He finished his drink. It was savory and delicious, but it wouldn’t sustain him.

Fortunately, the hungry-eyed man was walking by, too casually, as if only stepping outside; eyes on the floor, swiftly glancing to see if Reynard was watching him go.

“Hey there,” Reynard greeted the man. “You wouldn’t smoke, by chance?”

The man looked surprised but pleased to say, “Yes, I do.”

“Would you be so kind as to share a smoke with a stranger, new in town after a long journey?”

He smiled breathlessly. “Well, sure. I was stepping out for one. You’ll join me?”

“Of course,” Reynard said with a smile. Their eyes held one another.

He paid Joan for the drink with a gold coin made of his person, securing a key and a room for the night. Then Reynard followed the man outside.

He was already lighting the smoke with a match.

“I’m Darragh, by the by,” he said between puffs, handing the smoke to Reynard.

Smoking had no effect on Reynard, but he found the practice curiously enjoyable. And useful in a pinch. A convenient excuse to step aside with someone for a discreet moment.

“Reynard,” he answered in a puff of smoke, pointing at himself.

“So what brings you to Safo?” Darragh asked.

“Visiting my sister,” Reynard lied. “She’s married to some farmer up the island. Been a few years since I saw her.”

“Oh, so you’ll just be passing through?” Darragh asked again.

Reynard nodded. “Just passing through. I’ll be gone by morning.

Between each question and answer, they passed the smoke between them, and their fingers touched again.

“And what about you? Do you work on a farm or for the state?”

Darragh said, “No, I’m a Brother’s Keeper.”

Reynard didn’t react. “I didn’t know Brothers were allowed to imbibe.”

“Well, it is frowned upon, but the Church is lax here. One of the few benefits of being a local convert so far from Garden. So long as I preach the word and do my duties, they give me a long leash.”

Reynard didn’t ask what those duties entailed. He didn’t want to know more. This man would serve his needs nicely. Reynard was disgusted at himself. But what were his options?

“Well,” said Reynard casually. “It’s time for me to settle into my room for the night.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. “Room number 8,” he read it aloud. “If your leash is long enough, I wouldn’t say no to some company tonight. Thanks for the smoke. You finish it.”

Reynard turned away from the Brother’s Keeper with the shy, hungry eyes and back inside the tavern. He crossed the room and walked upstairs, cool as can be. He opened the door to his room and left it slightly ajar behind him. And he waited.

It wasn’t long.

Darragh quietly knocked and stepped into the room.

Reynard was waiting naked on the bed. Darragh shut the door with haste. Then he came to the bed, fingers unbuttoning his robe. He kicked off his boots and sat on the bed. Reynard helped him get naked.

And they kissed.

And Darragh gave himself to Reynard.

And Reynard fed.

Once it was over, Darragh was understandably exhausted. He looked to have aged ten years overnight. He would survive, of course. And he would recover, but he would remain aged. And Reynard would remain ageless.

After locking the room, Reynard slid the key under the door so Darragh could rest undisturbed. And then Reynard walked out of Waterbreak and began his days-long journey up to Morgan’s coinnigh.