I could not bring myself to explain. Not to Shae. Not with the same bluntness I had used earlier. Not when even I did not know what I had really come back for. Was I Fleeing? Was I here to warn Onar? Had I intended to threaten everyone not to betray me, or had I hoped to inform them it was alright if they all condemned me to death?

But most of all, I could not explain to Shae because she was so pure while the truth was a wicked, twisted thing. I was lost and selfish and confused and going to die, and did not know a single kind way to convey this to Shae.

Last winter she had found out my true nature by mere accident. All it had taken was a single careless moment on my end. She had been the first ever stranger to truly see the truth of me. And more than that, she had not been afraid. Instead, she had shown concern. She had found an inhuman, unbreathing creature of claw and fang resting in a barn, and rather than run from the monster she had worried that I might be dead.

I still cherished that memory, her honesty and innocence. And even though she had grown out of some of that childlike wonder since then, she would always be that first person to me. I still recognized so much of the girl from half a year ago in the way she’d just bounded in, ignoring everything and everyone and simply wrapping herself around me. In how she welcomed me back, oblivious to everything else.

Shae was special. Precious. I Could not bring myself to tell her, this little girl who so firmly believed she could finally have her dad and me both in her life, that the world was cruel and unjust.

Answering her should have been so simple. I merely had to do what I always did. Everywhere. To everyone.

I Lied. I showed everyone a fake version of me. I presented myself as a cute child hunter because it suited my underdeveloped body. I pretended to be harmlessly human because it kept me from being noticed. I behaved like a loner and a drifter, because staying in one place and getting to know people risked discovery. And when I returned from an unusually dangerous hunt I always joked about how uncannily good at staying alive I was because the truth — that someone already dead couldn’t be killed so easily — was that much more sinister.

All I had to do was lie once more. Not a big lie, but a slight bending of the truth. It would be enough. It would be a kinder, more gradual way to ease Shae into this new reality.

Yet I could not manage even that.

She probably considered me her friend. And that… friendship? Such a wild concept. I’d never had friends before. I had never bothered to study how friends were supposed to interact. It was so far removed from anything I considered possible. I had my family — my dad, my Uncle. Everyone else was mere acquaintances, a means to an end. People I had necessary interactions with to achieve a goal. And then I moved on to someplace else.

Is this what I sought in coming back here?

Happiness? Friendship?

Do I have friends now?

Can I lie to a friend?

It was taking me too long to find the proper words. First, it crept into Shae’s scent. Then it seeped into her posture. The accusatory ‘you promised’ began to shape itself and soon it would reach her lips. When it did, if she voiced her hurt, it would cut through every last layer of pretend-composure I had wrapped myself in.

It was yet another thing that became inexplicably difficult in this little village. If I did not like how something made me feel, I simply felt nothing. If people expected me to behave a certain way, I leaned into that. If a situation required a certain kind of person, I became that person. I did not just lie with words. I lied with my face and my body, my everything. This perfect control I had over the way I presented myself, this mimicry of every aspect of humanity, I relied on it to survive above all else.

But here, in Birnstead, it was so impossibly hard. It was harder still when faced with Shae.

It was Nebby who saved me. She stepped between me and Shae, took hold of both our hands, and addressed my wildflower friend with a soft-spokenness that was entirely unlike the bright, cheery, unbothered Nebby I knew.

“We’re not the only place along the Maru that had those river monster things, Shae,” Nebby said. She waited for Shae to nod in understanding before continuing. “They’re a bit much for normal hunters to handle, so Inquisitors are going to be checking the banks of the river, from Rivenston all the way up to who knows where.” She briefly turned to me to confirm she had explained it right. “That unfortunately means they’ll be coming here, poking around. Vale worries how your dad will take it?”

“Oh…” Shae exhaled, and both her happiness and her frustration disappeared together with the air escaping her lungs.

Nebby continued her explanation, somehow finding a far kinder way to state I was about to die than I ever imagined possible. “But more than anything, Vale fears we’re going to rat her out to the Inquisitors.”

I barely had time to wonder how Nebby was so good as this before the girl demanded my attention by bumping my shoulder. “And again, Vale. We totally won’t. Alright.”

I did not know how to react to that. Nebby’s explanation made the whole thing seem strangely mundane. Trivial even. When Nebby had brought the Academy doctor to check on Uncle Tare, people in this town had told the man that I was nothing but a meek child hunter. They had withheld the truth to keep me safe, despite knowing what I really was. Maybe things would turn out fine this time as well.

Shae hopped closer, grasped my hands, and brought them up to her chin. “You came back, even though it is so much more dangerous for you now?”

“I…” I stammered.

My hope at Nebby’s naive fantasy outcome evaporated. Shae was right. It was horrifically more dangerous for me now. No one had actually lied to the Academy doctor on my behalf. There had only been some accidental omissions regarding my nature. I could not count on that happening again. Humans weren’t as good with lies as I was. Withholding the truth ate at people. They wouldn’t do that for me a second time.

These were Inquisitors that were coming as well. They were living legends, exemplars of virtue, and protectors of mankind. No one here would lie to someone like that, not for me. Telling them would be such a relief for the people of Birnstead, definitely a better option than lying. When questioned they could simply explain they had been forced to shelter a vampire.

Nebby was suggesting that the people of Birnstead actually hide my nature from the Inquisition. That would no longer be them simply claiming ignorance. It would require them to actively deceive Inquisitors, and to boldly lie when questioned. That made no sense. I was no one to these people. It wouldn’t even work. All it took was one person speaking up, and then everyone that had lied for me would be in trouble.

If you could not trust everyone to follow the lie, the best option was to tell the truth. Right? So why would they even consider lying for me?

With no answer from me, Shae turned to Rafe. “You need me to help bring this up with my dad?”

“Maybe not,” he responded automatically.

Eryn instantly contradicted her husband. “You should talk to the man before news reaches him through other channels, don’t you think, Honey?” The Chicken-broth wife patted her husband on the hand and then, holding on to the table for support, got up from her chair.

Reya waved Rafe and Shae off as well. “Eryn’s right. You two go do that. We can figure out the details later. I’ll stay here and look after Eryn.”

“I am old, dear, not dying. I can look after myself just fine,” Eryn berated Reya. “Just need to take things a little slower now and then and I’ll be perfectly fine.” She let go of the table to prove her point, crossed her arms, and waited patiently for her husband and Shae to leave.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Chicken-broth Eryn’s act might have been enough to fool her husband, but it did not manage to trick me. Every species had subtle tells that betrayed the frailest of the herd. Now that I had noticed, the signs were impossible to hide. Her weakness lingered, in tension, posture, and careful movement. It even seeped into her smell. But there was nothing I could do to fix this. This was not an infection, a broken bone, or a combat wound, but old age and far subtler ails.

Reya did not appear fooled either. A quick tilt of her head towards the door made it clear she wanted some time alone with Eryn. “Nebby, could you make it so Vale stays out of any more trouble until we’ve managed to deal with everything?”

Nebby hopped over to me and grabbed onto my arm. “No trouble? Can do. Just leave it to me.”

Without waiting to see if I agreed, the girl dragged me outside, straight into a group of people suspiciously loitering right next to the bunkhouse. “Sorry everyone,” she said, her words spoken so fast they all strung together. “Not allowed to get into trouble right now. That means I can’t talk. You know how much trouble I get into when I blab. Got to run. Bye!”

I wanted out of her grip, but her firm hold pulled me along as much as it kept me from tumbling to the ground. With the sudden exit into the sun, I needed her steadying hand to remain on my feet, so I begrudgingly allowed it. An offended growl formed at the back of my throat anyway, but with so many people around I forced it down again.

Nebby only let go of me once we had disappeared into the trees, safely hidden away in the dark of the forest.

“You stumble a lot,” the wild girl commented.

“It’s the sun,” I explained with a snarl, wrenching my hand free from her grip. Running in the sun did not work for me. Not without expending far more Metzus than I was comfortable with. And even then.

“Oooh, fierce!” Instead of taking a step back like a normal person, the Flint-lock-butterfly girl whooped and welcomed my bestial snarl with near-infectious joy.

That attitude of hers made me fight back another hiss and force a frown on my face instead. I did not like to be perceived as fierce, or dangerous. I detested these wonderfully inhuman desires to snarl and hiss at people. I loathed the relief of sharing my weaknesses so openly. And most of all, I did not want being so utterly myself to feel this addictingly good.

And more still, I should not want to be here at all. I should be using the time I had left to get away from Nebby, circle back for my horse, somehow avoid all the people in this town that found me interesting, and run.

Nebby shook her head. “Nope. Nope. Not working. You should tilt those down further.” Putting a hand on either side of my head, Nebby massaged her thumbs into my eyebrows. “Good, good. That’s a much better pout already. Now push that jaw forward. Really inflate that lower lip.”

And all it would take was a predator-quick head movement and—

Don’t snap at her fingers.

Don’t finger about how butterflies would taste.

Don’t eat the fingers. Don’t eat the Nebby!

“What,” I hissed, ducking out from under her grasp, “...are you doing?”

“Is it helping?” Nebby asked, bringing her face so close our noses almost touched.

“No. What? Helping?” I repeated, darting back to a safer distance.

“Moping? Is it helping?”

“Wha...” I let the word trail off before it could become another repetition. It seemed that assaulted by this barrage of Nebby-ness my vocabulary had been reduced to a single word.

“I assume not then.” She grimaced. “Feel like running away? Want me to sneak your horse out from that crowd and help you get it ready? The faster you get going the more of a lead you’ll have.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Ah… right. Not running yet. Need to plan first. Can’t use the roads after all. They’ll expect that.” The little pest smiled and nodded at her own wisdom. She straightened up, stepped back out of the trees and into the open, then gazed off towards the Maru, one hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. “Spent a lot of time on the other side of the river when I was little. Could probably give you some nice pointers.”

Ihe other side of the river? When she was little? How did she even get across…

Right. Nebby. Of course. Better not to question it.

She turned back to me and looked me up and down. “No. No. Not a good idea. You’re right. The Inquisitors will question everyone, and then I would obviously have to tell them everything I told you. Better to ignore my directions and figure out your own path.”

Why?

I marveled at my own coherence. At least this time I had managed to keep my dumb one-word questions to myself.

“You ever been to the overlook?” Nebby continued her flood of word-vomit. “No. Of course you haven’t. It’s a hill. Nice view. Well, more of a mound of dirt than a hill, but you gotta take what you can get.” She pulled me along again. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Nebby, what are you doing?” I yanked my hand free, finally managing to interrupt her endless stream of banalities.

Does no one care anymore that I’ve got claws hidden in these gloves?

“Talking.” The girl grinned.

I gave her an exasperated frown at that pathetic explanation. It wasn’t hard to do. This entire exchange had been nothing but exasperated frowns on my end.

“Not working?” She took a step back and leaned against a tree, perfectly relaxed.

“No,” I admitted. I didn't even know what was supposed to be working, but refused to pose another question beginning with the word what.

“Sorry, I was just trying to distract you a bit from your worries.” She pushed off from the tree. “I’ll stop being such a blabbermouth, okay. At least if you promise to do more than one-word sentences, that is.”

“Fine…” I ventured.

Nebby smirked mischievously, and made a twisting, pulling motion with her hand.

“... I will speak more than one-word sentences,” I continued.

“See, not so hard is it?” She smiled a genuinely happy smile and began walking again. “Come on. Not much further. You’ll love the view. Promise.”

“Nebby?” I started after her, uncertain how to continue. I’ve never had to explain this to anyone. Either they already knew, like my dad or Uncle Hadrian, or they were Reya, who had figured it out herself.

“Yep, that’s me!” she turned around but continued walking, backward. She tripped over a root, nearly fell, then continued, pretending it hadn’t happened. Again she coaxed me to go beyond the one word I had uttered with a gentle tilt of her head and a reaching hand.

When she hit her head on a low-hanging branch the words spilled out of my mouth together with a snicker of laughter. “You can’t show me anything. I’m blind out in the sun.”

“Ah… poop.” She sighed and rubbed the back of her head. “For real?”

I nodded.

“That sucks.” She tapped her foot. “It is kind of mostly sun on the overlook. You won’t be able to admire the view then?”

“No,” I confirmed, then added a couple more words to not make my reply a proper sentence. “I suppose not.”

“Want to go up there and not-admire the view with me anyway?”

I looked back toward where we had come from. We hadn’t walked particularly far yet, or gone particularly high. The village was still right there, hidden behind the trees. I could find no true malice in anything Nebby did. But being lured away like this, for no discernible reason, still agitated me. It was the kind of thing a predator did. The sort of thing I did. This behavior did not fit with my image of Nebby. I could not figure out why she was doing this, or what her real motivation was.

“Don’t worry. Shae knows you’re with me. She’ll find us. No doubt.”

Sighing, I trudged after her. The only predator here was me and if it wasn’t far then I would learn soon enough.

A little deeper into the forest, away from the very last sounds of civilization, we came upon a tall, jutting rock hiding among the trees. At two or three stories high, covered in moss and with the very tip of it barely cresting the crowns of the trees, it colored the air with fresh, moist, and mineral flavors. Water had seeped off it and gathered in tiny pools at the bottom of it, and hidden in the deep dark foliage not all of it had dried up. Insects attracted to the moisture added a crisp buzz to the quiet rustle of leaves. Nebby had been right. The peaceful majesty of this spot was worth treasuring.

On the side we had approached from, the one facing the village, the stone was a shear wall. We went around and climbed the gentle slope on the other side. As we ascended, the trees grew sparser, the rock below our feet no longer providing enough of a foothold for the roots of larger plants. The very top had an open space that wasn’t quite high enough above the treetops to be visible from the village but was still bare and warm. Sunny. Bright.

Nebby stepped forward, into the clearing and the sunlight, spread her arms, and spun in a circle. “Tada!”

The light of the sun penetrated far enough into my secluded shadowy corner that it washed out the landscape in front of me, and melded detail and color together until it was little more than a suggestion. I could only get a vague impression of the sight, but it was enough of a glimpse to understand why Nebby enjoyed herself so much up here. To someone that could see it, the green blur of an endless ocean of trees stretching far into the distance until it blended into the blue of the sky would have been majestic.

Blinking, I stepped into the open next to Nebby. The uneasy feeling of Tonaltus sunlight weakened me and irritated my flesh. The hint of a resplendent landscape vanished into a complete blur. The butterfly-girl was reduced to nothing but a smudge in that blur, a taste in the air, and the scuffle of feet dancing around me.

And even though I could not see any of the landmarks Nebby pointed at, the joy layered over her vivid descriptions had me smile with her anyway.