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Another month passed, and early summer had come. The vineyards bloomed, covering the hills in pleasant shades of green, falling over them like a thick canopy. Nearby, the apples, pears, and apricots began to flower.

All winter, the townspeople drank honeyed hot wine - crimson, spiced with cinnamon and garnished with raisins and dried rosemary. But throughout the summer, all sorts of fruit wines would be enjoyed.

Everyone looked forward to Fauna’s Day. The name Fauna had held the power of youth, procreation, and plentifulness. It was a celebration of fertility, known even outside of Chelkalka.

But, having seen what happened at the winter celebration, neither Marat nor Val shared the excitement of the others. So many times, they talked about leaving. So many times, they argued about where they could go. But in the end, there was nowhere to go. The war took all, and even if they stopped in another town - eventually, Johannes would find them.

The changeling would occasionally appear, haunting the trees and shrubbery near the yard. But, Marat had never told Val when he glanced it - and she seemed not to have seen.

Each time he saw those rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and fine golden hair - something inside him burned and twisted, ugly, hateful. It looked like Val. But it also looked like someone else –taunting him with its very existence.

Likewise, Asha had not stopped haunting him. It seemed she was everywhere he went, yet her path somehow never crossed Val’s.

“I think she likes you.” Khaleel would laugh casually when she lingered at the workshop

Yet, Marat saw that the girl’s infatuation was beyond youthful curiosity by now.

She was, by all accounts, beautiful. She should have been with the others, her friends, taking walks with boys her age and swimming in the river. Instead, like a lovesick puppy, she followed a man more than twice her age, seeking moments when he was alone to steal some rather one-sided conversation and longing looks.

“Khaleel,” Marat had begun one afternoon, “I must tell you something of your daughter.”

The man’s face grew dark. He’d just finished telling Marat of the suitors that had asked after her, and she rejected one and all.

“Who is it? Who did you see with my girl?” He said quickly.

“I’ve seen no one.” Marat sighed. “But perhaps she may be spending time on endeavors behind your back.”

Khaleel sat down hard on a work stool.

“I was afraid of that, you know.” He said, his voice giving way to a deeply troubled mind. “She has always been so strong willed, impossible to say ‘no’ to. She is my oldest, our first, and was denied nothing. She is afraid of nothing.”

Marat only allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch in a frown.

“I worry that should she lose her virtue, it is a path where she could not be redeemed. I try to protect her. I do.”

The man wiped his face with a dirty hand, leaving streaks of black on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“I do not know if I hope she is found to be a suspected Golden - or if I should hope she is not.” He said finally, a strange note in his voice.

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“What happens if she is not suspected?” Marat asked, taking advantage of this moment of vulnerability.

“There will be far more boys I have to worry about.” Khaleel chuckled.

“And if she is?”

The man grew silent, his eyes on his dirty hands.

“It becomes far less simple.” He said finally, standing. “We should get back to it.”

Marat nodded and followed him to get back to work.

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As Valeria began to go to the river to escape the summer heat, Marat took the opportunity to take the All-Father’s Reach to the hills more and more. She tried to convince him to come along with her, but by the All-Father, he hated swimming.

The bow had become such respite for him since they had arrived there. It was the only time he could truly feel himself again, a life on the road, a weapon in his hand. No cottage, gardening, or pleasantries with people he did not care for.

Of course, these getaways had to be planned. The girl looked for him wherever he went. He had to switch locations four times now - each farther away than the previous.

He heard the birds first, stepping out of the treeline. Large boulders lined the hills here, with many berry bushes growing in bundles. It was not the most ideal of places as it was difficult to set up for extra long range, but it would do.

He unhurriedly wandered around, drawing small circles and X’s on wood and in the earth.

Nock. Draw. Aim. Release.

He trained with both eyes open, the same as his department uncle taught him in his youth. It allowed him to keep better awareness out of his peripheral vision, which could make a big difference for one traveling without a companion to watch your back.

Nock. Draw. Aim. Release.

He did not miss just like he had not missed when the stalkers came from the darkness outside of Titan’s Pass.

Dried branches rustled somewhere behind him, and Marat felt his teeth grind. The bothersome girl had found him again, so this would be the last he could come here. He did not look back. Maybe this one time, she would go away.

After she did not speak for a moment, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

Something wasn’t right. The birds quieted around him. The air felt nauseating but without smell.

He closed his eyes, and to his dismay, he felt the presence.

Spinning around, it was not Asha that he faced. At the edge of the clearing stood the little girl, her eyes fixated on him.

Her mouth moved as if it could not decide which emotion it wanted to display –rapidly cycling through frowns, smiles, and silent gaping cries. Its eyes matched none of them, remaining on him and disturbingly still.

His ears pulsed with rushing blood, carrying anger.

“Leave…” He said quietly and with restraint.

You must not hunt.

But, it stood, and its lower face finally settled on a wide smile - its upper lip raised and showing its uncanny teeth. There were far too many in there for a human child.

Slowly, hesitantly, he raised his bow.

Johannes’ distinct eye shape in his sight.

It took a step forward and opened its mouth wider to speak, but before the first syllable could cross its lips, an arrow drove directly between its eyes and out the back of its head, leaving behind it a fine mist of blood. The whistle of the arrow was all that broke the silence.

The creature paused, unaware of what had happened, and then slowly crumpled like a puppet dropped by its master on the ground.

There was no scream, no deathly wail.

He felt something inside him release and fall away.

The changeling was not tethered to Val…

The only thing left now was the pounding of Marat’s heart and the familiar rush of adrenaline tingling through his fingers. Nothing had felt as sweet as that moment and nothing as dreadful as the next - as he heard behind him a youthful, melodic voice.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

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