Thepa's gaze lingered on the roguish satyr standing before her.

There was something about him she couldn't quite put her finger on. His lack of boundaries and strange demeanor were disconcerting, but the winkle in his golden eyes, the mischievous energy exuberating from his muscular form all gave her pause. In some ways, he reminded her of a youngling. He did as he pleased, whenever he pleased, without a second thought for the consequences.

But yet ...

There was a kindness in his voice. Whoever had taught Fokin was well-versed in the lost art of courtesy. Only those in the Beachwick followed such practices and even there Thepa considered it to be dying out as Keylee had often reminded her through rushed excitement. But here was an outsider, using words like forgive, madam, mistress, and sister—even if the last was laced with contempt.

Still, she hesitated.

He was strong, stronger than her. And there was no mistaking the bitterness in his tone when he spoke of the Sisterhood. For whatever reason he held them in contempt. Revealing her true nature might provoke something dangerous in him. For now, she'd keep that truth to herself. But what to do with him?

Finding no other recourse, she studied him.

Still standing less than a foot away from her, Thepa could easily see the horns that protruded from his head. Unlike hers, they were rigged and curved back ever so slightly. A small scar sat across his cheek that ran down into his beard. It had faded so much, she surmised he must have got it long ago, but now she was wondered how he got it in the first place. Was it in a fight much like hers? Perhaps he received it sparring with an overzealous Roan. Maybe it was a whip of the branch as he ran through the trees...

Thepa got lost jumping down the rabbit hole of speculation, she didn't even realize she was rudely staring until he snapped her out of it.

"Something wrong, Sister Thepa?"

No contempt there. She turned quickly, hoping he hadn't seen the heat rising in her face.

She cleared her throat. "No, I'm fine. Thank you for healing me, but I need to head back."

Must you? she wondered.

Perhaps not, but the strangeness of the encounter was starting to wear on her. She owed Fokin nothing, and she had pressing duties back at the Beachwick. Then there was the Message Spell she instructed Gamma to send Vivian, and she wasn't keen on being seen with Fokin by the other Sisters. Not wanting to give him a chance to respond, she began to jogging away.

For several minutes, she traveled alone. She quickly passed the spot where she had first attacked the wolf, retracing her hoofprints, still faintly visible in the soft earth. She wasn't entirely sure of the fastest way back, but she never doubted her own two hooves.

An hour passed. The sun was sank low, giving wake to the darkness that quickly cloak the forest. While the moon provided some light, the dense canopy above block most of it. True, she could see in the dark, but tracking hoofprints was a lot harder that way, and hers were lighter than most. Furthermore, she was starting to worry her presence would alert the evening predators. Thepa considered making camp high in a tree, but a sound behind her caught her attention. Instinctively, she drew her dagger, ready to throw.

"Forgive me, Sister Thepa. I didn't mean to startle you. Perhaps you would like a ride?"

Her heart fluttered a beat as Fokin broke through the foliage on Roan's back. The two looked as if they had barely made any effort at all in tracking her, not that she was actively trying to conceal her movements. Not sure if she was annoyed, she brushed off the palpitation as nothing more than nerves, sheaved her dagger, crossed her arms, and gave him a look of bothered.

"Fokin, why are you following me?"

Fokin dismounted, giving Roan a rough pat on the head as he walked toward her. Roan's expression matched her own—annoyed but begrudgingly appreciative.

"Well, a few reasons really," Fokin said, smiling. "First, I noticed you're taking a long way back to the Beachwick. It would be a lot faster if you headed more to the west. I reckon if you head about a mile in that direction, you'll reach the path. I know you're following your own hoofsteps, but if you keep heading the way your going, you'll end up on the southern shores."

Thepa glanced west, unsure if he was right. His voice certainly held a sincerity that was disarming, but the thought of leaving her own hoofprints behind made her uneasy. Especially late in the day, when losing the trail near a stream would make finding her way back nearly impossible. And yet, the more troubling thought was that she wanted to trust him.

"You don't seem to care much for Beachwick," she said, her tone probing.

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For the first time Fokin hesitated. He turned to look up into the canopy as if the answer he was searching for could be found in its green foliage. Thepa felt a strange pang of sympathy as she watched him fidget with his fingers. After a brief silence, he finally spoke.

"No, Sister Thepa," he said softly.

"Just call me Thepa," she said. The phrase surprised Fokin as his eyes widened in shock. Truthfully, it surprised herself. She couldn't believe she said it.

Fokin's eyes widened in surprise before a smile spread across his face. "No, Thepa."

She smiled back, but the question still lingered. "Can you tell me why?"

"The Beachwick abandoned me a long time ago," he said simply.

It was a well-established fact among all the nations that the Beachwick only allowed females within its walls past the age of two completions. In the last fifty completions, that rule had been broken once three months ago when Thepa allowed aid to the hurt elves from the attack on the elven outpost. Mentally kicking herself, she fumbled for a reply.

"Yes, our laws are quite clear," she said, feeling a wave of discomfort at how callous it sounded. Even to her own ears, it made the matrons seem heartless. She tried to think of a different way of saying it that didn't sound so mean spirited, but Fokin changed the subject, much to her relief.

"So, would you like that ride or not?" he asked, nodding towards his massive wolf.

Thepa shifted her gaze towards Roan. The wolf certainly looked big enough to carry the two of them. If Thepa rode from behind, she could keep the both of them in front of her, but Roan stern gaze and toothful growl looked as if he had no intention of letting her on his back now or ever.

"I don't think he likes me very much," she said.

Fokin turned back to the wolf and whistled a high pitch sound. It didn't take much for Roan to respond as he jumped up like lightning and came right up to Fokin's side ready to be mounted. At least, ready for Fokin to mount. The wolf's eyes stayed locked on Thepa, still unwelcoming.

"Like I said, he's a big softie," Fokin said, smirking.

"I'll pass, but thank you for the offer," Thepa replied, grateful yet wary.

Fokin shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He pulled something small from his bag, tossing it into the air. Roan leaped, catching it with a snap of his jaws before retreating to enjoy his treat. Thepa tried not to picture her leg caught in those sharp teeth.

"Well," she said, her gaze shifting west again, "if that's all, I should really be getting back."

Here again, are we? Said a voice in the back of her head. Why are you in such a rush?

For a second time, Fokin played with his fingers. His gleaming eyes continued to dart around the jungle as he once again found the top of the canopy and mumbled something too soft for Thepa to hear.

"I'm sorry?" she said, taking a few steps closer.

By now the two of them were less than a few feet apart.

He mumbled again, and she took another step forward, not realizing how close they were now—close enough to recall they were about the same distance when he had healed her ankle earlier.

"One more time?" she asked, her voice soft.

"I think the Goddess wanted me to find you," Fokin said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Thepa's brow furrowed. "Find me?"

"For the past few weeks, I've had the same dream," Fokin said, still avoiding her gaze. "Every night, I'm chasing a figure through the jungle. It feels like my whole purpose is to catch her, but no matter how fast I run, we always end up in the same spot—right where we met today. And when she turns to face me, there's no face—only the mark of Chandeidra. Three days ago, I found that spot. Today, I found you."

Thepa realized she had been holding her breath, warmth spreading to the tips of her ears. She exhaled slowly, careful not to let him notice, and found herself staring at the scar on his cheek. Without thinking, she asked the first thought that escaped her lips.

"Where was Roan in all of this?"

At the mention of his name, Roan's ears perked up behind Fokin, as if summoned. Fokin chuckled at the sudden shift in conversation, his laugh infectious. Thepa couldn't help but smile, and soon, she found herself laughing too.

"I imagine he was off hunting his own prey, as usual," Fokin said, still grinning.

"Prey?" she asked, her voice catching over the short sylabol. "You were hunting prey?"

Fokin's smile faltered, and his cheeks flushed, but he held her gaze. "Poor choice of words," he admitted, offering a sheepish grin.

Thepa gave him a quick smile, her gaze once more fixed on Fokin features. Roan's distant growl barely registered in her mind, more like the hum of an insect that needed to be swatted. Without even realizing it, she found her blue eyes drifting towards Fokin's lips, obscured by his bushy beard. She licked her lips in anticipation, but just as she started to close her eyes, his expression darkened. Before she could react, Fokin's hand flashed, pulling a dagger from his belt.

Terrified, Thepa recoiled. She tripped over backwards and hit the ground hard, heart pounding, as Fokin flung the dagger right where she had been standing. Its metal body clanged against an unknown object and as he ran off chaos started to erupt around her.

From nowhere, a bear lunged into view, barreling toward Roan. Its familiar size and shape hunkered down on the wolf who was smaller but still fought it as its equal. Fokin drew a second dagger and darted past Thepa, charging toward an unseen opponent in the trees. Thepa turned to get a look at his opponent, but lost sight of Fokin. Knowing he might need her help, she abandoned Roan to the bear, grabbed her own daggers, and decided to flank the opponent from behind.

At least, that was her plan until she got a full view of said opponent.

"Sister Ciary, stop!" she cried.

Both Fokin and Ciary froze, but neither lowered their weapons. As they hesitated, Thepa's stomach twisted with realization, and she whirled around back towards Roan in the bear. By then, the bear had forced Roan to the ground, the wolf whimpering in pain. Its massive paw hovered in the air, poised for the killing blow. Without thinking, Thepa rushed forward, throwing herself on Roan, bracing for the impact.

"Sister Onna, no!" she cried.

But the blow never came.

Slowly, Thepa loosened her grip on Roan, who squirmed beneath her weight. She looked up to see Ciary and Fokin stepping cautiously into the clearing as the bear shifted, morphing back into Sister Onna.

For a moment, no one moved, save Roan who limped to Fokin's side, still whimpering. The four of them just stared at each other unsure what to do now that the two Sisters had moved past their planned attack. Thepa herself felt her face burn, waves of embarrassment coursing through her like she'd failed a simple training exercise. When it was clear no one was going to say anything, Fokin broke the uneasy silence.

"Someone want to tell me what's going on here?"

Thoroughly embarrassed, Thepa grimaced.