I crept up to the edge of the rocky outcropping that overhung the hot springs. I could hear voices down there. Thrasher, Moonsinger, one of the witch queens. When I looked down, all three witches were there. Hag, Hiss, and Hex traveled in a pack like the bearded ladies, never alone. Johnny was on his way over to the hot spring to join them. He stayed at the edge of the hot spring, stretching his wings and scratching his narrow hairy chest until Thrasher gave his come-on nod.

Sucker. Waiting for permission. Just because Thrasher thought he was the boss didn’t make him the boss.

I picked my spot and hopped over the edge, keeping my wings tucked behind my back so they wouldn’t slow my fall. I hit the steaming water with a crash that made everybody scream and jump out and take cover in the trees. I came up snorting water out my sinuses and choking and laughing.

Thrasher’s wet fist closed around my throat. He slammed me against one of the boulders that surrounded the spring, foot pinning my thigh, huge purple-black wings beating from either side. He’d already punched me a couple times before he saw who he was hitting.

“Punk,” he growled, giving me one more good lip-busting thump. “I told you not to do that.”

“Scare ya, Trash?”

“Get pecked.” He shoved me off the boulder and headed back to his bath.

The witch queens and Johnny had fanned out to either side of Thrasher, ready to kill the threat. Thrasher was a beast, bigger than any of us, thick as a tree, hard as a rock, and mean as winter, but the others were all fast and deadly, too. Had to be to survive.

They glared at me.

Hag clucked her tongue. “It’s always you.”

I grinned, tasting blood in my teeth. “Miss me?”

The black and white paint on her cheeks—colored to match her wings—twisted in a sneer.

“No one misses you, Angelpunk. Ever.”

“Everything’s nice when you’re gone,” Hiss hissed. The way she talked was where her name came from, I assume.

“Hex?” I pointed at the last witch queen. Sometimes I like to pretend I can’t tell them apart because they all wear that black and white face paint to match their wings, but I can.

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She just rolled her eyes and headed back to the spring with her sisters.

“Want to see my mating dance?” I called after her.

She flapped her wings at me once without looking back.

“Anybody?” No takers. “Trash?”

They ignored me.

“You’re gonna make him kill you one of these days,” Johnny said.

“He didn’t even have his spurs out,” I said.

Johnny shook his head and left for the hot water.

“I missed you,” Moonsinger cooed.

Back when I’d scared them, she had hopped up onto a branch. She was still up there, smoothing her tawny feathers to calm down. Obviously not deadly. But she was smaller than everybody else, even smaller than me, so maybe someday she’d get deadly. Or she’d just keep following Thrasher and the others around to stay alive. Long as she could keep up with them, that was a good plan.

She glided down next to me and wrapped me in a side-hug with her little stick arms.

“Missed you, too, Moonie.” I tugged on one of her orange-red curls when she didn’t let go. She needed reminders sometimes, otherwise she’d just keep hugging.

“Want to show me your mating dance?” she asked.

I laughed. “Let’s get a bath.”

She found her previous spot in the spring, and I shoved my way in, too. By the looks on everybody’s face, you’d think I was there to take a dump in the water. Still mad because I’d scared them. They would get over it. It just took time.

“Found a berry patch south,” I said, sinking lower in the hot water. “And a god drop on the way. Good spot. Lots of loot if you want it.”

Thrasher gave a grumpy snort, then nodded and went back to splashing water on his shoulders.

“Under cover?” he asked.

“Plenty of trees, brambles, everything.”

“We’ll check it out today.”

Leaves rustled behind me.

All the females went still. Johnny, Thrasher, and me jumped out and crouched on the boulders, wings flared and shedding water, ready to give a monster a beat down.

“Hey guys,” came the slow drawl. It was just Moose waddling in. Big as a cliff and dumb as a rotten log.

One of the bearded ladies followed him, practically hanging on his arm. The others probably weren’t too far behind. I really can’t tell those girls apart. They all four look alike, with their silver hair and beards, gray eyes, and blue splash wings.

What I could tell, though, was that this one and Moose had just mated. You can’t count on the ladies to have good taste, obviously, or a lot more of them would’ve wanted to mate with me.

“We’re going to forage south today,” Thrasher told them, rolling his shoulders so the muscles would jump and flex. Probably mad somebody had mated with Moose instead of him. “Some berries and a god-drop down that way.”

“I found them,” I said, since he’d conveniently left that out.

Moose looked at the bearded lady. “Should we tell the others?”

“I’ll go get them.” Unlike Moose, she was a fast talker. Fast mover, too. She headed off lickety-split.

“Hey,” I yelled after her, “Want to see my new mating dance?”

“Get mauled,” she yelled back.

“I’d like to see your mating dance, Angelpunk,” Moonsinger said again. “I can sing you a song to do it to.”

I splashed the little joker with water. “Sing us a berry song while we’re eating berries how ’bout.”