Jay was not in the habit of running, much less over frozen, broken ground at midnight, and just a couple of minutes into the chase they were exhausted , panting, and fighting a massive stitch in their side while stumbling over nearly every root and patch of ice in their way. After another few minutes Jay stopped catching glimpses of the absconding figure and slowed to a walk. They obviously couldn’t catch the murderer at a run and would need to track them to their hiding place.

"How do you even track someone?" Jay wondered aloud. "Don’t you look for footprints or something?"

Jay looked for footprints. There were none. But as they leaned down to inspect the ground their nose caught a faint whiff of something acrid and smokey. Gunpowder, mixed with metal and salt. Fireworks. Maybe?

Jay frowned and sniffed themself. They reeked of smoke, metal, and salt. But their stench was of wood smoke, blood, and sweat, not the gunpowder, copper, and petre of fireworks. It seemed that Jay had a lead.

"Thanks, nose." Jay said to themself. "I’ve always been proud of you."

They continued to walk vaguely northward, following the trail of scent. It was a difficult, tedious endeavor. The chill winds that had bothered Jay so much during the day now tore through the forest with the vigor of night behind them, disturbing the trail. Oftentimes, Jay had to stop and wait for agonizing minutes before a lull in the winds allowed them to catch the scent again.

At one point the trail turned towards the left and down a small deer path, a fact Jay only discovered by losing it entirely and needing to backtrack. But after two hours of chasing Jay finally caught sight of distant firelight through the trees directly towards where the trail was leading them. Jay approached the camp cautiously, careful of every sound from the snapping of twigs to the... creaking of their joints? Jay distantly realized they were cold. Very cold, cold enough to have long since stopped shivering and cold enough they felt like their joints were seizing in their sockets. Creaking, groaning, and giving their position away with even the smallest of Jay’s movements. Traitorous things.

Despite their body’s mutiny, Jay was able to approach the camp undetected and observe from behind a tree. They chose one nearby enough to get a good view but distant enough the firelight only cast the faintest dusting of red onto its trunk. It was close enough to get a detailed look at the inhabitants, and even catch their conversation.

There were two. One of them was the murderer, who turned out to be a woman. She was short and stocky, with impossibly pale skin, rounded features, and stark white hair and beard; both impressively braided and threaded with gold. Her eyes were larger than any Jay had ever seen, leaving only a small bit of room on her face for a button nose and minute slit of a mouth. The eyes were golden and had vertical pupils like those of a cat, which were dilating and contracting impossibly quickly, moving between needle thin and iris wide as she alternated between looking at the fire and looking towards her companion.

She was Tre. Jay had never seen a Tre before, but she couldn’t be anything but a subject of the Queendom Under. Her cloak was draped over the bag she had been hauling, which was overflowing with fireworks to the point some had spilled out and lay scattered across the ground.

Her companion was a demon. It had the body of a wasp, with a stick thin waist and bulbous hips and rear, each bearing a jumbled mess of protruding limbs with a seemingly random number of articulations, ranging from short nubs of sharpened chitin to long limbs with five joints and seven clawed fingers. Its torso was thin and sprouted several sets of sense organs. Jay saw antennae, mouths, ears, eyes, and a scattered assortment of pits and glands whose function they could not even begin to guess at. The head was a blank white mask, as if a human face had been cut from living flesh, drowned in plaster and slapped onto a stone globe.

The demon was scolding the murderer, its voice a whispering, buzzing chorus of breath gasped through a dozen fetid mouths. The voice was sickeningly soft, hard to hear over the wind, and Jay couldn’t understand the context of the conversation until the demon began laughing uncontrollably.

"So, to recap your terrible explanation." It said. "You wanted to steal some fireworks to sell on the side. You got Olorin drunk enough he told you where he stored them. Then you manipulated this boy, Brig, by offering him a place with the Throats if he proved himself by stealing the key to the shack. But when you went to bag the loot he tried to stop you, so you knocked him flat, tied him up, and continued on your merry way. Then the shack blew up, and you started running."

The Tre nodded.

"And now you need my help to cover your tracks to make sure Archon doesn’t string you up by your feet and slit your belly like a pig." The demon stalked closer to the woman, looming over her as it savored her fear. "What I don’t understand is what I’d get out of it. If I report this to Archon he would gladly reward me for it. I could get your eyes, perhaps. I have always loved the luster of a Tre’s eyes."

The woman swallowed nervously. "Brig. The boy. You wouldn’t need to settle for just my eyes. You could have him. All of him. He probably didn’t survive the blast."

The demon shook with laughter. "No. I would be risking more than you know, and I do not take risks. Make me a better offer."

"Risk?" The Tre asked in a thin voice, barely audible over the wind. "What risk? He’s fucking dead, and dead men don’t talk."

"Dead men talk to Archon, dearest," The thing crooned, "They sing in his mind, and whisper in his ear. They walk his paths, jump on his strings."

"Stop being cryptic you..."

Something grabbed Jay, whirled them about, and shoved them against the tree. Jay almost let out a scream but Jeshin jabbed a pair of fingers into the hollow of their throat, and they could only weakly cough out a startled "Eep". The mercenary wore full scale, heavy sabatons, a helmet, and leveled a halberd at Jay’s gut.

"Make a sound and I gut you," She said in an icy voice, "Nod if you understand."

Jay tried to say that they understood, but Jeshin’s fingers were still driven into their throat and no sound came out. They nodded frantically, and Jeshin released her grip. Jay took in a deep breath.

"What are you doing?" Jeshin hissed. "I saw Yeon walk you to the hut and then the next time I see her she’s lying on the ground with her wounds treated but no life marker, a body lying in chunks, and a man is crying as if his son was about to die in his arms. I thought Yeon was dead. I thought you were dead.

Then I find you stalking my companion in the middle of the forest, half frozen to death. You are so cold I thought I was grabbing a corpse just now." She glared at them. "Explain. Now. In a normal speaking voice. Then we will go to the fire and get you warmed up before your frostbite gets worse."

Jay had frostbite? They held their hand up to inspect it. The fingers were white, with small patches that shone like ice in the moonlight. Jay tried to move them. They didn’t respond. Oh.

"I panicked." They whispered, trying not to attract the notice of the demon. "I did what I could, I took an elective on ship medicine so I know some things. Yeon was fine but Brig was dead and Orma. Orma..."

Jay sank down the tree,too cold to sob but too crushed to stand.

"I ran after the murderer, I thought I could. I don’t know what I thought I could." They coughed. "Now you are going to kill me and feed me to the demon and I wasn’t even going to come to this stupid festival. Gods I’m such an idiot."

Jeshin blinked, then lowered their weapon.

"Murderer?" They wondered, taken aback, then seemed to come to a realization. "Oh. I see. You think the world revolves around you, so you thought this was your great moment to be a hero. Instead of fetching the person you know to be a combat medic, you apply your shitty little attempts at first aid, don’t remember or don’t care that you are supposed to place one of these"

Jeshin pulled out a small piece of metal carved with runes that Jay vaguely recognized matched something Yeon had in her pouch.

"Onto the people you are treating to monitor their vitals."

She tossed it onto their lap, where it started slowly pulsing orange in time to their heartbeat.

"You bungle a diagnosis because you don’t remember or don’t care that you can’t use standard spells on people that are growing. Like children. Scaring a father to tears over their boy having a bruise. You then spot a mercenary running from an explosion, and like a complete asshole assume that they must be a murderer. Like I am in your eyes." Jeshin spat at the ground. "You are lucky I don’t disciminate over who I treat."

"Up." She ordered. Jay obeyed.

"Walk." Jay obeyed, walking into the camp.

The sack of fireworks was nowhere to be found, neither was the demon. The Tre watched them impassively, giving Jeshin a nod which she returned.

"Strip."

Jay stared blankly at Jeshin. She glared back and growled.

"I said strip. Your clothes are doing nothing to warm you right now, they are just keeping in the cold at this point. Take them off and sit by the fire. I’ll get you a blanket to protect your back." This time, Jay obeyed as Jeshin searched a bag at the back of the camp.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Haz, where’s the second blanket?" She asked.

The woman just shrugged, keeping her eyes on Jay, which made them uncomfortable. Was she planning how to kill them? Or just leering? Either way Jay was unnerved by her eyes. They were very big.

Jeshin emptied the contents of the bag with a small crash and tossed the deflated cloth by the fire.

"Sit on that." She ordered, and as Jay sat she draped the blanket over their back. It was thick and scratchy, made of rough wool. Jeshin poured water from a skin into a pot and placed it by the fire to warm up.

"Once that is slightly warm," She said. "You will place your hands in it. It will hurt. I don’t care."

Jay nodded and attempted a joke. "Okay. I’ve never had hand soup before."

Jeshin just rolled her eyes. "You aren’t funny. Do me a favor: shut the fuck up and think about your mistakes instead of assaulting my ears."

She turned to the Tre woman, Haz.

"Are you okay Haz? That explosion must have spooked you, for me to find you here."

Haz blinked slowly, a Tre nod? Whatever the gesture meant Jeshin continued.

"’Solre wants us back in town, the civvies got angry one of theirs popped and are looking for someone to point the blame. He’s trying to deflect the fingers towards the Ufriq, but that only works so many times. Archon is on his way, he’ll be here by morning."

PIC [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJay.png]

The conversation droned on in the background as Jay took Jeshin’s advice and reflected on their night. They had obviously messed up. Hard. Despite that, they were too tired and too cold to feed their usual mantra of blame.

Jay certainly tried, but despite some half-hearted responses the mantra stayed at its constant low drone and refused to swell into a full panic. Oh well. At least putting their hands in the water did indeed hurt. A lot, which was a penance for them of sorts. Jay was vaguely proud that they didn’t cry.

As much as they tried to reflect inwards, Jay couldn’t keep their thoughts from moving to the demon and the sack of fireworks. Neither were anywhere to be found, but Haz seemed unfazed at Jay and Jeshin’s presence, not the sign of a guilty conscience, and Jeshin hadn’t noticed the fireworks or demon at all.

Had the two been a hallucination?

Jay knew that it was possible to begin hallucinating when hypothermic. They also knew they were more susceptible than most to hallucinations, often hearing voices or seeing intangible insects during days when they couldn’t get much sleep due to the spring trading crush.

But that didn’t make sense. Jay had never hallucinated smells before. And hadn’t they followed their nose to this camp? Was that possible to do when hallucinating? Besides, could they have really hallucinated such a thing as that demon? It was more horrible than anything Jay had ever seen, including their worst nightmares. And... Jay sniffed the air. Why would they still be smelling the fireworks after getting warmed up? They were definitely warmed up now, their hands were hurting like someone had flayed them and the token on their lap was pulsing a green with only occasional flashes of yellow, not the orange it was when they were still cold.

Jay was about to ask Jeshin to confirm if they were still hallucinating when they heard a twig snap behind them. Turning around, they saw the demon moving into the camp. Definitely hallucinating, then. This was weird.

"Amp?" Jeshin asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Why, dearest Jeshin, I was just stashing the goods my good friend Hazlet stole from the town. As she asked me to do so that you wouldn’t catch her." The demon crooned in the unmistakable chorus that passed for its voice. "She promised me a finger for that. But she didn’t say anything about keeping her secret."

Hazlet and Jeshin glanced at each other before jumping up from where they were sitting and grabbing for their weapons. A halberd for Jeshin, a war pick for Hazlet.

"Fucker. Never trust a demon." Hazlet spat.

"Shit. Don’t do anything foolish, Haz." Jeshin warned. "Think. We are throats, we take care of one another."

Hazlet laughed. "You mean we do what’s best for Archon. He would look the other way for just some theft, especially if he got a cut, but murder? No, the only way out of this is to not be caught. And you trust him too much to lie to his face for me." Hazlet spat. "You would have me hang myself for your conscience."

"No." Jeshin said. "It wasn’t a murder. You wouldn’t do that. It was an accident. We can talk to Archon. And if you don’t trust that he’ll see it that way." She took a deep breath. "I would. I would lie for you about this."

Hazlet bit her lip, hesitating, then looked towards Jay. She turned back towards Jeshin. A faint understanding passed between the two.

Jeshin shook her head. "No. Jay won’t talk. I’ll make sure they don’t talk."

Hazlet wasn’t budged. She called out to the demon.

"Amp, want another deal? Two for the price of one."

She gestured towards Jay, then Jeshin.

The demon laughed. "Unfortunately, I promised Archon that I wouldn’t harm one of the Crimson Throats. Unless, of course, they were a traitor."

It glided over to Hazlet and placed a long limb on her shoulder.

"Is Jeshin a traitor, dear Hazlet?"

Hazlet froze, and for a moment Jay didn’t realize why. Then it hit them.

Of course, They thought. Hazlet is Tre. Tre can’t lie. That means the demon can’t interfere with Jeshin, and Jeshin can protect me. I’m safe.

"Yes." Hazlet squeaked. "Jeshin is a traitor."

Jay was dumbstruck, but Jeshin just nodded as if her suspicion had been confirmed.

"No wonder you were exiled. Lying bitch."

PIC [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJay.png]

From what Jay saw Jeshin’s armor saved her life six times over in the first ten beats of fighting. The demon moved with unnatural speed as it rushed past her guard and tacked her to the ground, clawing at her with its varied limbs.

Three claws were stopped by the breastplate and flank scales, while a large serrated limb jabbed towards her neck and entangled itself in her gorget. Two small nubs spat out from the demon’s body like javelins and struck at her arms, one getting caught by the gambeson and the other piercing through the cloth armor but slowing enough it left only a scratch.

Hazlet followed the demon at a more human speed, aiming a blow for Jeshin’s face but instead hitting her helm. The warpick left a small dent in the metal, and Jeshin growled in pain before tossing the demon off her and grabbing a dagger from her belt that Jay hadn’t even seen her concealing. The half elemental slashed at Hazlet, leaving a deep score across her cheek. Hazlet jumped back and brought a hand to the wound in disbelief.

"You always were a cocky bitch, Jeshin." She spat. "Trying to capture me alive? Why even bother when I’m going to be killed anyway."

Any response Jeshin might have given to that was interrupted by the demon returning to the fight. This time Jeshin managed to stay on her feet as Amp clawed at her, scoring some shallow scratches across her face and shins where she was unarmored. In return Jeshin stabbed the demon repeatedly with the dagger, to seemingly no effect.

"I should probably help." Jay realized, still dazed. "Jeshin needs help."

The demon pushed Jehin back and spat another set of chitinous javelins at her with tremendous force, piercing and lodging past the metal scales into the articulations of her left arm. The blow drew no blood but hindered her movement.

Hazlet returned to the fray with a savage, double handed swing towards Jeshin’s chest, but Jeshin stepped into the blow and threw the Tre to the ground. Jeshin managed to aim two kicks with her plated boots into Hazlet’s head before an appendage as large as Jay’s thigh swept across the camp and slammed into her side, sending her tumbling. Jeshin lay still for a while, obviously winded from the blow, as the demon reabsorbed the limb and began moving towards its prey, savoring her distress. Hazlet got to her feet, swaying unsteadily.

Jay didn’t know many combat spells. Just the basic static deterrent taught to first years at Tai Academy, and a small fire projection spell that was technically a combat spell but that Jay had only ever used to light the lamps in their office when they needed to work into the night. The lamps were only a couple of steps away, but Jay was lazy. Theoretically, the difference between the combat application of that spell and the utility application was just the amount of mana poured into it. Right? They may have slept through combat sorcery.

"Well, I have to try." Jay thought, and tossed as much mana as they could hold into the formula before loosing the result at the demon.

A ray of intense heat sprang from their fingers and splashed into the demon as it loomed over Jeshin, searing its flesh and causing it to step back with a howl of pain. Jay noted absently that a couple of the demon’s limbs had blackened and detached from the heat. Some parts of the thing had surprisingly human skeleture.

"Mage protocols." Hazlet spoke calmly. "Kill them first, I’ll keep Jeshin distracted. She can’t stop me without killing me."

"Wanna. Guh." Jeshin wheezed. "Wanna bet?"

"I can’t attack noncombatants. Not even if they attack me." The demon chorused. "I’ll kill them if they harm you though. Right now I’m dealing with the traitor."

It tried to use some of its lower limbs to stomp Jeshin, who rolled out of the way towards the fire. She grabbed her halberd and a flaming log and scrambled to her feet, facing the demon. "Run, Jay!" She ordered.

Jay obeyed.

Hazlet cursed and pursued them. She was faster than Jay, and when Jay turned around to aim another ray of fire at the Tre she ducked behind a tree, dodging it with ease. Jay used the opportunity to continue running, stopping occasionally to keep Hazlet back with fire.

The repeated expenditure of mana was exhausting, unlike anything Jay had ever experienced. They were pouring as much of their mana into each spell as they could, and doing so repeatedly. Jay had never before drawn deep enough on magic to feel its effects, but now it was as if their very will to function was draining into each spell, each one leaving them more mentally exhausted than an hour of attentive calculations would have.

After only three more blasts, Jay felt their legs beginning to wobble and a dull curtain clouding their mind. They were tired. They wanted to sleep for days and not wake up, even for breakfast pastries. Heavy weights were hanging from each limb, and if they weren’t so terrified they would have collapsed onto the frozen forest floor and into a deep sleep.

The warring between magical exhaustion and fear was weird, and it made Jay nauseated. It also made them inattentive, enough so that they barely noticed when Hazlet finally managed to close the distance and smash her warpick into their ribs.

Jay was tossed to the ground, screaming in pain, as Hazlet continued her assault with a brutal, overhead swing directly for their head. Jay tackled the woman, barely budging her, but at lest the pick hit their back instead of their head.

It was still painful.

Despite their exhaustion Jay could still use magic, and so they grabbed as much mana as they could and slammed it into the static spell formula. Arcs of lightning burst from Jay, scorching the trees and ground, seizing Hazlet’s muscles and driving deep towards her heart. For a moment Jay was terrified they had killed her, but the Tre’s armor shone in response to the spell, directing the worst effects away from her core and dispersing the mana almost as quickly as Jay had supplied it. Jay had only stunned her for a few moments, which was both a relief and completely terrifying.

They did not have the mental fortitude to stay conscious through another spell, and Hazlet was stronger than them. In desperation Jay grabbed the Tre’s warpick and threw it into the woods. A moment later her spasm ended.

Hazlet wasted no time searching for the pick, she just picked Jay up and slammed them to the ground, straddling them and moving to beat them to death with her bare hands. Jay closed their eyes, and prayed. One blow landed. And another. But the third never came.

When Jay opened their eyes again, Hazlet was unconscious and slumped to the side. Jeshin stood over them: helmet missing and sporting a deep gash across the crown of her head, pierced by dozens of bloody javelins, limping with pain, and wearing a frantic, manic smile which Jay could only compare to those worn by the delighted children at the new year’s festival excitedly pointing at everything.

She was carrying the demon’s head in the crook of her elbow, and was the most beautiful sight that Jay had ever seen.