“Plumya,” Tif said, “I need your help.”

“Course you do,” the fairy quipped and then eyed her. “What with?”

Tif didn’t immediately answer, turning to Melus who had his thumbs behind his lower back, pushing his hips forward so he could more easily stretch his upper half.

“Qiha, may I please Mark you?”

Melus rolled his head around his shoulders, and she heard a distinct crack, accompanied by a soft sigh. “I suppose,” he said. “Though I’m utterly spent, so we’re not traveling anymore tonight. I would think a fire in that darkened pit might be a more effective use of our time.” He gestured toward a blackened circle ringed by some smaller rocks, his long sleeve flapping.

“I will, Qiha,” she promised. “But first I need to see if this works.”

“Very well,” he said with another sigh, though this one sounded resigned. Melus shuffled around near the fire pit, looking for somewhere to sit but appearing to find nothing to his liking. He started to mumble something about travel robes, but by that point Tif was sliding her thumb across her forehead and then the same through the air--she still didn’t know how Atriat had managed the motion with just his eyes. Perhaps it was part of his power as the Sha’Chon.

A grey thread snapped into existence, going from Tif’s chest straight to Melus. It was tougher to see in the half light, but it was certainly there, and even if the thread hadn’t been visible to her, the sensation that appeared in her mind was unmistakable.

Melus paused in his efforts to move offending pebbles with the barest tip of his fan, looking downward. “That numbness. What a decidedly off putting sensation.” He glanced over at Tif. “Does it make your arm feel the same where the ris is? Or I suppose I should say not feel.”

Tif nodded. “Up to the shoulder and then some patches here and there.”

Melus visibly shuddered. “Oh, you poor thing. I couldn’t do it. Not even if it made me Chon of the world.”

“It’s not that bad,” Tif shrugged.

“‘Scuse me? Plumya said, putting herself smack in the middle of Tif’s vision. “You ever going to finish that thought? I’m starting to get white hairs over here.”

“Sorry, yes,” Tif said. “Have you ever used your Life ris to cut through other ris before?”

The bounty hunter’s little face scrunched up. “On people’s bodies? All the time.”

“No, I mean ris someone has made. In the air.” When Plumya didn’t look any clearer about the question, Tif decided to start from the beginning instead. “When I was in the Challenges in Lercel--”

“Which you lost,” Plumay interjected.

Tif paused, feeling a flash of frustration at the goading, but only a flash--it didn’t matter right now. “Which I lost,” she confirmed. “There was a boy who used the first seal of his Life ris, a sword I think, to cut through a shot of Gold ris.”

“Now that I would pay to see,” Melus said from the side. Tif saw that her qiha had finally settled himself on the ground, his baggy clothes spread out around him making a pool of fabric.

“Pfft,” Plumya scoffed. “Luck’s all that was, cutting something he was ris blind to.”

“He had seals of Gold as well as Life,” Tif explained, “so it was visible to him.”

“Well isn’t that nice,” the fairy said in a sing-song voice. “Sounds like your friend is living mighty well. Sorry to disappoint, but unlike some folks, I only carry seals from my birth city. So, if that’s the help you’re hoping to get, don’t bother asking.”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Tif said, amazed at how combative the little bounty hunter constantly was. “I just want you to try and cut what I made. I’ll show you where it is.” She paired the words with her hand, pointing down the thread of ris.

Plumya didn’t even turn in the direction Tif was showing. “You think a finger is going to help me see something that’s probably a hair thin. That’s dumb, even for you.”

With effort, Tif didn’t rise to the bait. “Can you just try? Please?”

“Yes,” Melus said from where he said, “before I can’t feel my loins anymore and piss myself.”

“It doesn’t work like th--” Tif said, but Plumya interrupted, hooking a tiny thumb on her in Melus’s direction “Who is this guy again?”

“My trainer, called a qiha,” Tif said, eyebrow twitching. She was starting to hit her limit. “Please show him respect.”

“Yeah,” Plumya said with a snort, “that’ll be top of my list.”

Tif breathed out, thankful that she had attempted to meditate a few times before. “Can you just try to cut the Death thread? Please, Plumya.”

“Whatever, fine,” the fairy said. She floated over and started making random slashes in the air with her invisible sword, nowhere near the line of ris.

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“More to the right,” Tif corrected. “No, the other way, and forward some.”

“Working like a charm,” Plumya said, voice thick with sarcasm, as she continued to swipe ineffectually at the air.

Tif gave more directions, but they worked no better than her first attempts; in fact, if she thought it was possible, she’d say Plumya was missing the thread on purpose just to annoy her.

“Aspects help us all,” Tif caught Melus mumble to the side and then louder. “Tif, step closer to me if you would.”

She didn’t want to do that; she wanted to find out if Plumya could cut a Death thread and then move onto the next part of her plan. But she also wasn’t about to ignore the direct order of her qiha, especially not when he could leave at any point he wished and not take her to Lercel.

Tif stomped over to him, trying not to look as petulant as she felt. “Yes, Qiha?”

“The thread is short now, correct?”

She could barely see it in the low light, but he was right--the thread was only a quarter of its former length, taught between them. And just like that, she realized his plan.

“Thank you, Qiha,” Tif said, quickly. “Plumya, it starts here on me,” she pointed to her chest, “and goes to the same place on him. So if you cut there between us, you’ll hit it.”

“All right,” Plumya said, with a yawn that creaked her little jaw, “but this is the last time. I need some sleep after all that flying.” She lined up around Tif’s head and then floated downward, both hands gripping her invisible weapon. “Nothing,” she said as she fell. “Nothing. Nothing.”

“You’re almost there,” Tif said. It had actually gotten too dark for her to see the thread anymore, but she remembered how, because Melus was sitting down, it was stretched at an angle, which was why Plumya hadn’t hit it yet.

“Noth--huh,” the fairy said, pausing in midair.

“And what does that mean?” Melus asked.

Tif, however, already knew because she could feel a slight, hollow tug downward from where Plumya was bending the thread with her Life blade.

“You found it,” Tif said excitedly. “Now cut it.”

“Feels like a stretch vine,” Plumya said, pushing farther down but not breaking the connection.

“Perhaps a sawing motion?” Melus offered.

Plumya gave him a pinched look over her shoulder. “Hey, you’re not my ki-whatever, okay? I got this.”

Melus tilted his head toward Tif. “Perhaps we should have brought that keshe boy after all. He at least seemed civil.”

“Nah, he’s useless,” Plumya said, a clear strain in her voice. “But I’mmm”--Tif’s awareness of her qiha suddenly vanished, and she felt a popping sensation, like her arm had just come out of its socket, but instead the feeling was in her chest--“awesome!!!” Plumya crowed with delight, zipping around their heads in a shimmering flash just barely seen in the deepening darkness.

Tif put a hand up to the odd ache, but she was much more happy that hurt. “I knew it would work!” she said, joining in on the fairy’s celebration. “Let’s make a fire and then we can keep practicing. If you can cut these, it will only be a matter of time before you can do the same with the thicker bonds.”

Plumya froze in the air, and Tif didn’t need to see well to know that the fairy was staring straight at her. “You want me to do what now?”

“Cut the Sha’Chon’s bonds,” Tif explained. “He has lots of them, which stop him from getting hurt. So, if we chop them off, Lercel can beat him and his army ”

“And did Peppy the hand come up with that plan? Sounds stupid enough to be from a palm.”

“No,” Tif said, finding that particular jab from the fairy harder to shrug off than the others. “It’s from what I saw in the Challenges, like I told you, and because I can see Death ris. And you just proved it can work.”

“I cut one thread that wasn’t moving with you showing me exactly where it is,” Plumya snapped, voice getting higher and louder. “How can you possibly think that’s the same as us going up to a whole army fighting in a siege? You think he’s just going to sit there and let us trim his ris like he’s getting his hair cut? A full Chon? Seriously, Tif, what is wrong with you?”

Tif stood there shocked for a moment and then her anger burned brighter than she had ever felt before. “What is wrong with me?” Tif shouted back. “What is wrong with you, Plumya? Are you always going to be this horrible, bitter little person who only thinks of herself?”

With night in full swing, Tif couldn’t see the fairy’s reaction, but when Plumya didn’t immediately answer, Tif kept going.

“If you don’t like my plan, come up with another one instead of complaining and being hurtful all the time. We could help people, save them even. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Don’t you care at all?” Tif couldn’t believe what she was saying, but she also couldn’t seem to make herself stop. “Well? Say something.”

“Why should I care about ‘people’?” Plumya’s small voice came from the dark, like her jaw was tight. “They don’t care about me.”

“Then why are you even here?” Tif said, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

A shifting in the dark was all she could make out of the fairy. “It’s obvious to anyone with half a brain. I came because a battle means spoils. This could be one for the ages, maybe the end of a whole tribe. If I was missing a wing, I would have walked my way here. It’s too good an opportunity to miss.”

“Opportunity?” Tif said, choking on the word. “It’s my home.”

“Not mine,” Plumya said. Tif heard a buzz as the fairy shot off, vanishing in the dark.

She didn’t bother calling after her; she didn’t see the point. For his part, Melus sat there silently, not offering any words of advice or wisdom. Tif didn’t blame him. He was to be her ris teacher, not the guide for her whole life, and he had already done much for her. The fact he was still sitting there was a testament to his pledge.

So, Tif stood for a time, trying to figure out how the conversation could have gone a different direction and not finding one. She and Plumya had been a prickly pair from the start. It was almost a surprise that this hadn’t happened sooner between them.

A crashing from below caught Tif’s ears and sparked hope in her heart. She dashed over to the cliff edge, careful to stop well before the smudge she thought was the end of the lip.

“Teerog!” she called downward. “Teerog, we’re up here!”

If the cyclops was there, she didn’t acknowledge her cries. Tif listened closely and swore she heard the underbrush shifting and moving. Something was passing through it, and something big. Tif had told Teerog where they’d be spending the night, just like she had Plumya, and the cyclops had claimed to have been there before.

“Teerog!” she tried again. “Over here!” Tif knew the cyclops wasn’t happy with her, but if they could talk, she felt much more confident in her ability to clear the air between them than with Plumya. Teerog might also have ideas if Tif shared hers; there had to still be some way they could help Lercel.

The sounds of movement got farther away without any return call. If it was Teerog, she wasn’t stopping or waiting for Tif any longer.

She wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but Tif found herself on her knees near the cliff edge, the angry fire of her belly guttered out, her head heavy and eyes unfocused staring into the black.

Her friends had left her, and without their help, she didn’t know how to save anyone anymore.