“Here. This.” The scout of few words points to something in the dirt.

I bend down, tracing the outline of — “Is that a track?” My voice comes out higher pitched than I would wish. And rightly so.

The foot is over two feet long, the heel oddly heart shaped, tapering in the center, and flaring to end with deep claw marks scraped into the muddy earth, as if the creature had slipped. Dried blood streaks one side of the track, as if it was carrying something. Something that bled.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Sir Hans asks quietly.

“No, sir. Looks reptilian,” the scout replies.

Indeed. With big ol’ claws.

“Ran, you’re gonna want to see this.”

She moans. Can’t this wait ‘till morning?

I send her the track. She sobers quickly. Coming.

“Ran’s coming. Get your horses if you want to keep up. We’re going to track this thing.”

“Sir, I don’t recommend that.” The scout’s gaze scours me and seems to find me wanting.

“Why, si—soldier?”

“This is the creature’s home. He has the advantage. Especially in the dark.”

Sir Hans rubs his mustache. “He has a point, Guardian. Why tonight?”

Besides the fact that I’m itching for a fight? “This track is relatively fresh. As is the blood. It might have a live victim.” Something else in this thing’s clutches makes my stomach churn. “I’ll go with or without you.”

He grunts. “You will be the death of me, minx. Ar—Areece, please send for Sir Robin and his best contingent of knights. We’re going to be hunting, and I’ve heard he has a beef with this creature.”

I hike a brow. “Are you sure someone with a personal grudge will remain objective? And Areece?” I give the same scouring look at the cloaked individual who seems content to be bossed around by Sir Hans. And with a name like Areece? Oh, so many quips I could make. They both ignore my last comment.

Sir Hans snorts. “And following a half-crazed vigilante needing a physical outlet is any better?”

Huh. Point taken. I shrug and let the matter drop as the scout, Areece blends back into the trees, sending me one last look that lingers. Don’t know what that’s about.

Ran slinks out of the trees soon after, takes one sniff, and rears back, just about landing on her tail.

Bamshee, she spits out the name like the vilest of curses, growling low in her throat as her mane and hackles stand on end. Her tail even poofs out.

“What?” I ask sharply, taken aback by her response.

Bamshee, she hisses, and even I step back as her eyes grow red. My girl is scary when she wants to be. Dangerous. Hard to kill. Made to hunt dragons, she says.

I start at that last one. “Do what now?”

“Report, Gaurdian.” I almost jump at Sir Hans demanding voice.

I tug on my mask, making sure it’s in place as the scout materializes on the other side of Ran. She turns to him with a growl, and he steps back with narrowed eyes, a hand on something beneath his black cloak.

“He’s alright, girl,” I whisper. I think. Keep an eye on him.

She sits, but the glow doesn’t leave her eyes completely. She really doesn’t like this thing. I hold in a shudder. If she doesn’t like the creature, I’m going to hate it. Ran is practically fearless, and if she fears something, you should probably do the smart thing and run as quickly as you can in the other direction. Too bad I’m not that smart.

“She’s calling it a Bamshee. Hans, she’s scared. Ran isn’t scared of anything. Said this thing was made to kill dragons.”

His lips compress into a thin line and his face goes blank. “Would daylight make fighting it easier?”

Ran shakes her glorious mane. No. They grow slower during the cold. Night would be better than day. They like heat and warmth. Their poison paralyzes quickly, and they usually travel in packs.

I grow pale. “A pack?”

“Talk to me here. Never have I wished to hear that beautiful bond of yours more, Guardian,” Hans says, rubbing the hilt of his sword as he usually does his beard. His eyes watch the tree line, as if expecting the creature to materialize at any moment.

They have razor-sharp claws and can fight on all fours or on two legs like a human. Scales to protect vital points. Easiest place for a kill is the back of the neck. Second is an eye. Third is the armpit. Otherwise, take off as many arms as you can and watch out for the barbed tail.

I gulp. Perhaps he doesn’t wish to hear from Ran as much as he suspects. I relay the info.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Both him and the scout grow quiet and still. The scouts silver eyes flick to me, but he seems to have lost the animosity. What remains is a curious mix of interest and surprise with a bit of cold calculation. He seems familiar, but I can’t place him. Nor can I see much more than his eyes and well-defined, slightly crooked nose through the shadows around his hooded cloak.

“Can you track it?” Sir Hans asks Ran.

Her eyes glow then flicker as she blinks and nods.

“Good. We need to take this thing or things down before they kill more of our people.” Sir Hans turns to eye me. I gulp. “Guardian, do nothing stupid.”

“Stupid? Me?” I ask incredulously.

He shakes his head and mumbles something. Ran gives a wolven grin.

“What’d he say?” I ask her.

You don’t wanna know. Learned a few extra words for my growing vocabulary, if that’s any consolation.

I growl. Absolutely not. She’s learned enough from listening to the soldiers on the walls as we prowled the streets and from the fisherman's district when we'd visit to be sure the Thieves' Guild was holding to their truce.

Sir Hans watches me as I turn back to him with a scowl. He has a slight smirk on his face.

“My wife would kill me if I let you get hurt. Promise you’ll be careful.” His somber gaze watches me, all hint of humor dissipated as the last word leaves his lips.

I throw my hands in the air. “You’re going to be with me the entire way! What trouble can I get into that you won’t be there to get me out of?”

He slaps me on the back of the head hard enough to make me rub it. “Ow! What was that for?” I ask indignantly.

“For being a smart-blank.”

“Ooohhh. I’m telling your wife on you.”

“What happens in the field stays on the field,” he says. I grin. “What?” he asks warily.

“Then I can do something stupid and it stays on the field, eh?” I reply with a coy smirk he can't see.

“King, spare me from crazy idiots who think they’re invincible.”

“Hear, hear,” the scout mumbles.

I put my hands on my hips. “Who asked you?”

He grins. I see the flash of white teeth under that hood. But he stays quiet even as I round on him and poke his shoulder.

I humph and turn back to Sir Hans. I’m on my back and looking up at the pretty stars through a thick canopy of forest trees.

The scout reaches out a hand to help me up. “Never turn your back on an enemy,” he intones softly, but somehow I think he’s teasing me.

“Are you my enemy, then?” I ask in the same tone.

He cocks his head, and those silver eyes flash. “Not if you don’t wish harm on me or mine, no.”

“Good enough for me.” I grasp his hand and let him help me up.

Then I jerk him toward me, twist his arm as I step to the side, and trip him with my heel as I let go. He goes down but rolls smoothly, flowing back onto his feet.

“Mmm. Impressive,” I acknowledge.

He inclines his head to me, even as his cloak snaps out behind him with the movement, unearthing a good amount of beautiful black daggers with black hilts. I ogle the knives. I wanty. Very badly. Like really, really want one. Or maybe two. Do you think I could get away with stealing three?

Ran huffs. Down girl. If he dies tonight, I’ll let you have as many as you want.

That’s not morbid at all.

I turn back to Sir Hans, who is suspiciously pale. I narrow my eyes at him. “Hans? What’s the matter?”

He can’t seem to take his eyes off the silver-eyed handsome specimen of a man who has a thing for sharp, pointy things. “N-nothing.”

I grow suspicious. Hans never stutters. Ever. I appraise the silver-eyed man anew. He’s someone, or Hans wouldn’t be acting like this.

I shrug and let it go. I’ll look for any silver eyes in the faces of the nobility, but it’s more likely he’s an assassin or spy of some sort. Would make sense. And Hans sure wouldn’t tell me that. Noooo. 'Course he wouldn't tell me something so important.

Areece is even haughty enough to be a prince.

I snort at the thought.

Then focus back on my current problem.

“Alright, the few places we’ll need to reach on these things are going to be out of reach.” I look up at the two muscular men with me who top me by a head, at least.

The two boogers exchange a glance, then smirk at me. “Fine, out of reach for me.” I amend. The smirks grow bigger. Hans' eyes even sparkle as he hides a grin behind rubbing his beard. I huff. “This means I’ll be bait. I can draw this thing out, and you two can get it from behind.”

They exchange another glance. “You’re not used to working with others, are you?” Areece asks.

I narrow my eyes. “I could always leave you two behind. I’m sure Ran is quiet enough to sneak up behind it if you’re gonna be a scaredy cat.”

Sir Hans smothers a chuckle with a cough.

Silver-eyes moves like a wraith, feet away from me one second; his chest inches from my nose the next second.

I look up and grin. “Maybe you are quiet enough. But are you brave enough?”

A swoon worthy chuckle rumbles in his chest. He leans down until his lips brush my ear. I barely contain a shiver.

“The question here is not one of bravery, but of smarts. Being bait is idiotic.”

Whyyy, this man. He messes with my senses and then insults me? No way. No stinking way.

Ran snickers, scratching behind her ear with a hind leg. You started it.

I barely refrain from punching that perfect nose. Instead, I lean forward, breathe on his neck, and pluck two of his daggers from their sheaths.

I spin, knock his grasping hands away, and gently caress the sharp black blades.

“These are better than my momma’s throwing knives,” I say in wonder. I salute the assassin, spy, or whatever he is. “I’m keeping these, thanks.”

Sir Hans' eyes bug out of their sockets. He looks like a fish out of water.

Then a chuckle comes from Silver Eyes. It grows into a full-blown, if quiet, laugh.

“Stealing knives off my breathing body is quite the feat. Alright, Guardian. You keep those, and any others you take off me.”

“Really?” I ask, drawing the word out. My tone is that of an immature five-year-old... but come on. Those are glorious knives! Worth every single bit of fan-girling in my body.

He grins, another chuckle rumbling in that chest. “Of course. But I’m prepared.” His eyes grow harder. “If you manage another one, I’ll be surprised.”

I grin and give him a wink. “Wanna bet on that?”

He cocks his head as those silver eyes twinkle. “What would you like to bet?”

“If I manage to steal another one, you throw in its mate for free.”

“How’d you know my knives come as twins?” He studies me, not expecting an answer. “Alright. But what do I get if you cannot steal another by night’s end?”

I tap his knife on the edge of my lip. “What would you like?” I ask generously.

His eyes go to my lips. But then they flick back up to meet my gaze again. “What about a sparring match?”

“What?” That’s not what I was expecting.

“You obviously have been trained and trained well. I would like to see how well.”

I would also like to see how well I would hold up against this man.

“Alright, you have a deal.” I sheathe his knife, then hold out my hand for him to shake, and he does. Then he pulls me close. I’m lost in those eyes that twinkle with such depth, but in a way I can’t read.

He reaches towards my face... then snatches a knife from my shoulder. I stab at him in a jerky motion with his knife still in my hands, but he’s already flowing back, testing my blade just like I tested his.

“Hey! No fair!”

He taps his lip in an infuriating mock of what I did not minutes ago. “All’s fair in love and war, as they say.”

That. man. I'm gonna kill him.