He was in a forest again, against every survival instinct he possessed.

It was the same as it had been all those years ago. Towering trees housing hidden spirits who eyed him with judgement. The forest floor littered with more eyes yet – twigs, dried leaves, moss, creepers. All whose spirits served the clan leader who had banished him.

Arro tried not to think about any of this. Especially not his past. He was a different person now. A walk in this forest – where he had never been before and thus unrecognizable – shouldn’t be so endangering.

He supposed his anxiety was on display, nonetheless. Ace was casting him regular sideways glances. She did this thing with her eyebrows, arching the little end upwards in constant worry, and then straightening her expression out before she thought anyone would notice.

She’s trying to appear at ease, Arro thought, when her natural state is worry. He realized he was doing the same, right this moment. Being closer to his kin triggered every alarm in his body.

“So,” Arro began, “is there a procedure to this, or…?”

“Er – I just wander around and keep an eye out for fungi.”

This was another thing that fascinated Arro – this fungus faery and her lifestyle – was so extreme to him. Who wandered around forests anymore? And this was relaxing to her. Well, he rectified himself – noting that she still fidgeted with the lichen growing on her horns – as relaxed she could be.

The zombie followed along, keeping a close proximity to Ace. Somewhere in the darkness overhead, an owl hooted. They passed dozens of trees with names of the dead engraved on the bark. Arro tried not to read the names. Or look directly at a tree for too long. Or step on a twig. Or breathe in too deeply. Or –

“Are you alright?”

Ace had stopped walking to look at Arro, her eyebrows raised again in that concerned expression.

Arro hadn’t realized his fists had been clenched. His ribs felt like they were squeezing against each other. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, Miss Slyspore.”

“You know you can call me Ace.”

“Ace,” he said it, and let out a long, shaky sigh. “Shall we continue?”

“Actually, err, I found our edibles.” She knelt on one knee and began plucking her find, some species of mushroom that Arro did not recognize. He watched her work with careful and butter smooth hands. It was almost hypnotizing, the way she plucked the stalks, examined the gills, and gently placed each find in her little jars spread out before her. Her world consisted simply of her and her jars.

“Tell me something, Ace,” he started.

She responded without looking up. “Yes?”

“What do you want?”

“Err – as in which mushrooms do I want to have for supper?”

“No – no, aside from mushrooms,” Arro stepped forward and bent down to meet her eyes. “What do you want from life? What do you desire?”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Her fingers went up to the lichen on the curve of her horn. “That’s quite a large question, isn’t it? I’ll have to think about it.”

“Okay, make it small, then,” Arro pressed. “Why all this? Why do you rent out your house?”

“Oh, that,” she laughed and shook her head. Her eyes drifted to Half-Smile, lounging near another tree. “I suppose Half-Smile should take the credit. He gave me the idea.”

“Oh?”

“Well, there’s this Bone Tablet, you see.”

“Yes?”

“It’s very expensive. I’m saving up to buy it.”

“And then what?”

“Well, and then I can continue with my business.”

Arro didn’t know what a Bone Tablet was, and neither could he guess how that could possibly be used to sell mushrooms. “So how much is this tablet?”

“Goodness, it’s a lot. Ten thousand Amalgam, at minimum.”

“And what is it, exactly? A … tool?” He watched her pluck another stalk and examine its underside with her bare hands. He wondered whether poisonous fungi affected her. And if perhaps this tablet was a way to ensure that she was invulnerable to poisons.

“Yes, it’s just a tool,” said Ace. “A very powerful one. Ten times better than the last one I had. And probably would last me a good thirty years or so.”

“Thirty years, you say?” He wondered how old she was. “Where did you come from, Ace?”

“I do wish I knew,” she laughed again, a quiet, modest chuckle that Arro would never have expected from a faery with such an otherwise fearsome appearance. “But you’re asking about where I was before the War, isn’t it? I was where every other faery was, you know. In hiding.”

“With your family?”

“Yes. But then after the War …” her sentence drifted away, but Arro didn’t need her to complete it. He remembered the turning of the century. The mingling of all things Fae and Human, leading to the discovery of Amalgam.

“After the War, my family separated. Free to travel, to sight see. I lived alone for a while, off-continent.” Ace went on. “And then one day I just get this email that I’ve inherited old land that apparently belonged to us.”

“The House.”

She nodded. “I don’t know what happened to my family. But me inheriting the House meant that I’m the last one left. So here I am.”

“So here you are, indeed,” Arro finished.

Ace stood, buttoning her satchel closed. She looked at him, dark brown eyes filled with questions. “Are you sure you’re alright? Ever since we entered this forest, you’ve been a little on edge, isn’t it?”

Arro’s fists were clenched again.

Ace stepped towards him. “Are you – are you really afraid of trees?”

“I’m not afraid of them,” Arro said before he could think. “I just know their true nature.”

“What do you mean?”

“Grarg.” Half-Smile reminded them of his presence. He picked up a leaf – a Greyleaf – from the forest floor, and held it up to Ace. “Leeg.”

Arro watched Ace connect the dots – the Greyleaf, his anxiety in this forest, his dress made of discoloured leaves …

“Are you …?”

“I am,” Arro admitted, although he didn’t know why he was doing so. “I’m a forest faery. A tree spirit.”

“But your –”

“I was banished.”

At this, a slight inkling of fear showed on Ace’s face. “B-Banished? Why?”

It was Arro’s turn to explain. He uncurled his fists and patted his dress. A few leaves shivered. “My clan banished me. They have too many rules to govern everything. They follow the leader blindly, without question, without any sense of individualism. I guess I just violated one or two rules and that’s where they drew the line.”

Her expression turned to surprise now. “That’s … er, interesting. To say the least. I had no idea trees had such complicated inner lives and social hierarchies.”

Arro, despite himself, laughed. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. Dealing with clients was never a humorous experience. Dealing with murders weren’t much cause for laughter either. And what was the punchline? His own past – one that he tried to avoid at all times.

This fungus faery had somehow stepped into it with agility. She smiled at him right now. “So your family has banished you. And my family has gone missing in action.”

“They were never my family.”

“Either way, we’re both alone, isn’t it? And what are we doing – gathering mushrooms. I wonder what really brought you to this town. To the House.”

He stopped himself there, before he could ruin anything. She couldn’t know he was an assassin. Nobody could know – that was the entire point.

He was saved from needing to respond to her. Just then, his cellphone buzzed. With relief he opened the new text message. But his relief was short-lived. The message was the first of its kind – words of an unhappy client.

The boy is still alive?? What’s going on?