"She's mine!" Nathan screamed, or tried to. Every muscle in his body had suddenly tensed, locking him in place. A burning ache began to spread from what felt like a needle buried in his back. No matter how hard he tried it was all he could do to pull air through his clenched teeth, much less move to stop the fae woman.

The forest witch smiled in the growing silence and stalked toward Maggie, who shuddered and clutched the baby close. She would have turned away but the fae cupped her cheek and began muttering in her ear too quietly for Nathan to hear. A faint, frenzied whisper at his shoulder accompanied the familiar weight of Jabberwisp.

"Forgive-me-for-this-young-master-but-I-feel-you-were-about-to-do-something-hasty-and-you-are-too-important. Consider-everything-you-are-about-to-say-and-do-carefully." The needle slipped from Nathan's back and he gasped at the sudden release. He stumbled to a knee, then rose and turned to the fae woman.

"She belongs to us, dread lady."

The fae turned, casting a warning glare at the others before coldly eyeing Nathan. "You lie. She is not flesh of your flesh, nor even of your race. She belongs to no one."

"We took the child," Nathan countered. "A spoil, within our rights by your law. She belongs to us."

The fae woman waved a hand dismissively. "Even if the child is yours, artificer, you are in my realm. I will have my tribute."

"You wish tribute from me," Nathan asked, "yet want both the child and the cobbling?"

"I will have this child: keep your filthy toy." She leaned forward, baring inhuman teeth. "The woodsman guards you needlessly. Having spoken he cannot guard the infant.”

Nathan smiled back. "What will you trade me for her?"

"Trade?" The witch's eyes sparked with rage. "You must−"

"Must nothing," Nathan interrupted, doing his best to ignore the palpable fury boiling off the fae. Maggie and Japheth looked horrified. He ignored them too, praying he was right. "The child means nothing to me but I am told they are valued here. I am the woodsman's guest, in his debt and service. He has offered tribute to you already, dread lady. As his guest I need not do likewise, correct?" Nathan took her seething silence for an affirmation and pressed on. "You desire what is rightfully mine. How will you win it, dread lady?"

The fae let out an abrupt peal of laughter every bit as false as her sudden, perfect smile. "There is much I can offer so bold a creature. Nathan, sweet Japheth has said, is your name? Perhaps, if you will not give up that child, bold Nathan, you would give me another?"

"I'm not sure I−" Nathan's eyes widened as the witch reached out and gently trailed her fingers in a slow spiral against his cheek, a delicious thrill humming through his veins.

"Grant me a child, artificer. You speak of winning? Then let it be a contest." The last word wasn't spoken so much as sighed, dripping like honey from her lips.

Nathan shuddered, suddenly all too aware of the scent of her, the glorious balance of strength and grace in her every movement, the loveliness she wore like an impossible mask drawn from the skeins of ancient myth. She was a goddess of the wood, the raw power of nature impossibly bent into the shape of a perfect woman, and he suddenly wanted her as he'd never wanted anything in the world.

"Speak sweetly to me, artificer," she husked into the hollow of his throat. "Am I not lovely? Am I not more than mortal flesh? And this, as I think you see, is only a mask. I can be anyone you want and more." She gave the faintest of nods towards Maggie and smiled knowingly as Nathan felt the blood drain from his face. "Come to me, bold Nathan. Come to my bower and we shall settle the matter, contest it, as you say, and who is to say we shall not both have what we want? We shall both take and give as we see fit, know one another plain. I will not give easily, artificer. I would see you win your desires from me. Yet I shall give such delight as men cannot imagine."

He considered it. For a long, empty moment that passed into forever, Nathan thought just how perfect it could be. She could do things to him, make him feel things that he'd never imagine if he had a thousand lifetimes to dream of it. For one night...

And how much longer? Nathan asked himself. What would I give to have her again? And again? How much of me would be left when she is done with me? And what would happen to the baby she might have?

Don't you deserve this? A dark corner of his soul whispered. You have suffered on this adventure more than many people do their whole lives. You've lost so much, even before coming to this world. It's time you got something back.

Nathan looked at the impossible woman before him, her arms spread in offering, and then looked at Maggie, her face a mix of terror and something he didn't recognize. Doubt? Hope? He couldn't tell.

Maybe I do deserve it, maybe I don't, Nathan replied. But the first... "The first should be for love." he whispered. The witch cocked her head in silent question.

Nathan gave a shallow bow, embarrassed by his sudden discomfort in the act. "Dread lady, your offer honors me. You are more than beautiful, more than the greatest poet might dream of imagining. I could never sully such beauty with my coarse, tattered mortal flesh. We must settle this some other way."

The fae woman folded her arms, eyes unreadable in the face of the rejection. "What would you propose, artificer?"

The images of a childhood cartoon flashed behind Nathan's eyes as his face pulled into an ugly smile. "It likes riddles?"

"What?" The fae woman seemed genuinely startled.

"A game of riddles, three each." Nathan said. "I hear it’s tradition. Whoever answers the most wins."

"What-are-you-doing?" Jabberwisp squealed in his ear as the witch's smile grew vulpine.

"Trust me on this, J," Nathan whispered back.

"You-cannot-possibly-win-she-is−"

"Trust. Me." Nathan tried to smile encouragingly at Maggie and Japheth, but their despairing faces did little to bolster his confidence.

"Perfect. Bold Nathan, I accept the game." she cooed. "The stakes?"

"In my world it is considered polite to insist that ladies go first."

"Indeed. Firstly, I want the child. After that, your..." her eyes raked Nathan's body in atavistic hunger. "Service. Talk of such things excites me, and the seed of wizard-kind mingled with the blood of the fae... I would have this. But, fair Nathan, you must offer no question not of this world." She bared her teeth, now not remotely human but resembling the needled fangs of a cat. "We must play fair."

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"And so too, dread lady, must you not ask something of which I cannot know, being from the mortal world. And forgive me, but I must refuse your second desire. Be content with the first."

"Of course," she husked, sketching a graceful mock-bow. "But one must try. What would you have of me, artificer?"

"Forsake your claim, grant us safe passage, and... and grant me true answers to three questions should I win." Nathan didn't know why he asked that: some instinct whispered that it was proper.

"You ask three yet offer one, and each of your desires is a great gift." She shook her head, inspecting her nails. The gesture was somehow false, as though she was doing it without knowing why, only that it was what humans do. "You have clever Japheth with you. Take the child and your questions should you win. However, should our tallies match, I claim victory."

"Deal." Nathan felt something stir as he spoke, some quality of the air becoming charged as the bargain was struck. "As I said, ladies first."

"Serpent's hunger, fox's mind,

eagle's pity, demon's kine."

What the hell is a kine? Crap. "I have no idea, dread lady," Nathan shrugged. Heck, she won't guess mine. I only need to guess one of hers.

"You yourself are the answer, artificer," she gloated. "Can you not guess?"

"Men," Nathan groaned. "The answer is men."

The witch nodded. "Ask your first, bold Nathan."

"In every breath, in every bone,

As hard as cloud yet soft as stone

Lack is death, too much, the same,

Tell me, do you know my name?"

Nathan hid a smile as best he could while the fae scowled ferociously, hopefully at a loss as to what he was talking about.

"This is a cruel puzzle you offer, artificer." The witch mused aloud. "From whom did you learn this?"

"Made it up in middle school."

Whether she made anything of that, Nathan couldn't tell, and Jabberwisp bobbed excitedly. "She-knows-not-young-master. I-know-not. This-is-a-fine−"

"Be silent whilst I think, poppet, or I shall yet win you and teach you such agonies as could make stone scream." She stalked back and forth and then eyed the pool at the great pine's foot. Nathan panicked for a moment, but she only sighed. "I must concede, I cannot fathom this."

"You looked to it just now, dread lady."

She smiled and stepped to the water's edge, dipping a hand and letting the water drip from her fingers. "Mist and blood, rain and ice. You speak of water, artificer."

"Even so."

She flicked the last drops from her hand and sang:

“Unnumbered teeth that rend the sky

unnumbered swords that take no lives

wreathed in fire's colors die

to verdant rise, now who am I?”

Nathan shook his head, rattling the last traces of her song from his ears. Her singing voice was like a razor, all bright edges and cutting silver. He clasped his hands behind his back and turned away. Shit... teeth? Swords? An army? An army that doesn't kill... nope... damn it all... It was Nathan's turn to pace, and each time the fae woman crossed his view her smile widened.

"Do guess soon, bold Nathan. My patience wanes."

"I did not press you for time, dread lady. Please, a moment more."

Riddles are always simpler than they sound, always. She's a creature of the forest... what has teeth that rend the sky... some monster? No... too much chance of me not knowing about it... forest... woodsman... Nathan glanced at Japheth. Blood pine... pine!

"What has many teeth, rising green and falling in a fiery color?" Nathan spread his hands. "A pine, dread lady."

"Ask your next," she muttered quietly, eyes blazing, and Nathan recited an old favorite.

"Four men fishing with their nets.

The waves and rain in fury met

above their heads to storms beget,

yet not a single man grew wet."

"What is this?" the witch hissed. "Waves? Rain? You speak of the sea: not of my world."

"Your forest is vast, dread lady, but it is not all. The world is greater even than the forest's borders, and the sea is part of that world," Nathan grinned. "Unless you wish to forfeit the question."

"No man could stand beneath the rage of the sky and avoid the waters, unless by sorcery," The witch snarled. "You speak of unnatural magics."

"Not so, dread lady," Nathan bowed. "Though some might call it that: I speak of marriage. No single man got wet."

"Fie!" The fae woman spat. "Wretched human rites, how could you think I should know of them?"

"Yet they are of your world," Nathan replied. "I beg you ask your riddle, dread lady."

The fae witch bent forward:

"Sundering loam and splintering bone

tooth of time and bane of stone

drinker, biter, breaker, binder

tyrant cruel and never kinder

drains the veins of all the land

grinds the rocks to silt and sand

watches men die, stands uncaring

never burdened, ever bearing."

Uncomfortably reminded of the Hobbit again, Nathan waited in vain for the forest witch to unknowingly blurt out the answer. Try as he could, racking his brains yielded nothing. There was nothing so nasty enough to do all of that that he could think of. It's not time... it's not the dark... what the hell?!

Nathan grimaced and bowed his head, muttering under his breath. "Dear God, please−"

"Young-master-do-not-speak-of-such-things!"

"What?"

"You-may-offend−"

"Silence, both of you." The witch's voice cut through the cobbling's like a hot knife. "Your ignorance is borne of another world, artificer. For that, and that alone, I will grant you a kindness and not retaliate for what you may have done. Answer."

What could I have done? Nathan wondered, rattling his bracelet. The crucifix bounced against his wrist and suddenly he understood, or thought he did. Holy marks... Japheth said he bore holy marks to keep her away... prayer... Faith. Faith can hurt her, the way it did the revenant.

The fae woman was suddenly at his ear, her hand an inch from his throat. "I see the twist of cheating thought in your mind, bold Nathan," the witch whispered in a voice that frosted the air. "Know this: whatever you think, whatever lies you may be preparing, do not think to fright me with prayer." The witch's voice seemed to catch as she hissed the word, as though it pained her.

"I taste no power of faith in you, nor in your little huntress. Only Japheth has such belief to harm me and yet he does not try, for he knows that should he do so the consequences would be dire. Do not test me, nor think to try the power of that bauble at your wrist against mine. A dead man's charm may harm me, but not enough to keep me from exacting..." she trailed razor-edged nails against his throat. "Retribution. Now answer my riddle."

"I... I do not know the answer, dread lady." Nathan croaked.

"The trees, little artificer," She grinned. "What but a tree could be a fang in the jaws of time? Now tell me your last."

Nathan fought the urge to squirm in the fae witch's grip. "A moment, dread lady, and perhaps some space?"

" I grow weary of this game." She leant away. "Ask."

"Why did the chicken cross the road?" he blurted.

The fae looked skeptical. "This is your riddle? Truly?"

Unable to think of anything better, Nathan realized that if anything would stump the bitch then a stupid joke like this certainly would. He nodded and smiled hopefully, only to feel his jaw drop in horror as the fae woman's hideous smile returned. No...

"Alas, artificer, it is not the first time I have heard this jest."

No no no...

Her grin widened yet more, still human but all the more awful for it. "One of death's children posed it to me as he did his work in my forest, many seasons past."

Nonononononono...

"It crossed the road," she sang triumphantly "to reach the other side."

Fuck.

"Give her to me, little huntress," The witch crooned. "Give me my child."

Nathan watched as Maggie stepped forward and silently offered the fae woman the baby. The moment before the witch took the infant, he stepped forward. "Might I say farewell, dread lady?"

She narrowed her eyes, something like suspicion dancing across her face. "If you must, artificer. But be quick." She pricked a finger on one of the infant’s tiny, barbed hands and placed it in her mouth with a smile. "There is much to do."

Nathan turned his back on the witch and gently took the baby from Maggie's arms, fighting the urge to run and not look back the moment he held her. She was awake now, and stared up at him with curious eyes.

"Be quick, artificer," the witch sighed. "Even the eternal have limited patience."

Nathan bent to kiss her brow, eyes smarting as the tiny child smiled, cooing happily and setting Nathan's heart quivering in his chest.

I... I can't. I won't. But how...

Tatters of thought stitched into a ragged patchwork of guesses, chance and prayer; snatches of conversation, scraps of memory from Belias' teachings, idle thoughts and pure luck wound together like bottled lightning in his mind, a plan assembling as if hours were passing in a moment of purest luck. Suddenly he knew: he knew he was right in every bone. He knew why the revenant had been burnt, why Japheth carried salt, why the witch feared prayer.

He knew what to do.

Nathan whispered two words in the baby's ear and she laughed.