WITH A CURSE straight from the arenas, Tiwaz threw the broken knife into the scrap box to join three others like it. It shattered when it hit the back and crashed into the other broken pieces of metal. Kerk kept well back when she stormed out of the smithy towards the house. He waited a minute before following her.

As he expected, he found her behind the house in the empty horse corral with the practice long sword she had forged, performing a training routine at a furious pace. “Tiwaz, lass. You can’t keep doing this. You’ll hurt yourself or—”

She turned feral eyes on him, snarling. “I will do what I wish!” She brought the blade down on the large log in her practice area, lodging it deep in the heart of the wood.

He sighed. “Just because Doom won’t take you with him is no reason to lose your temper.” She glared at him. “You ought to do something else to take your mind off your troubles. Before you hurt yourself. Or me,” he added in droll tones as she yanked the blade out.

She froze for a moment, then turned on her heel. She jabbed the sword in another log as she stalked towards the house. “Fine.” Startled he convinced her to do anything, he stared after her for a few minutes.

“I am not looking forward to explaining this to Doom,” he muttered, heading back to the smithy. “But I would rather face him if whatever keeps her occupied. He’s less terrifying.”

IN HER ROOM, Tiwaz knelt, pulling out a small wooden box. She lifted the lid, paused, then dumped its contents on the bed. She picked up the raw ruby, putting it back with the utmost care. The coin with the ruby-eyed dragon made her pause to consider it for a time. “This is all I can think to do,” she said, as if answering an unseen person’s unspoken question.

She placed the coin by the crystal, brushing her fingers over both. Closing the lid, she slid the box back in place and changed into a set of duller brown leather clothing. She put the knife into her belt at her lower back, put on her cloak and gloves, and headed towards the wolflen camp. Few even tried to speak to her as she strode through with all the warmth and temper of a brutal winter storm.

Once within the borders of the tents and mud huts, two young wolflen guardsmen intercepted her, holding spears pointed at her. The older of the two, which was still barely a young adult, demanded in broken common, “What want?”

Her voice was clipped. “I want to speak to Pack Leader.”

The two traded uncertain looks before the younger of the two ran off towards the cluster of tents and mud-and-twig huts. The older one stated officiously, “Human wait,” with his chest puffed out, obviously considering himself a fearful sight.

In a bad mood, she cast a disparaging look at him. “Fine.” Her cold, brusque reply made his confidence falter in confused uncertainty. Several minutes later, a greatly chastened guardsman returned with the much larger wolflen. The two backed away at a gesture as he looked the woman over.

“Thank you for respecting their youthful exuberance for their duty to guard our dens. It is a new thing to have a human come to our homes sober and not intending to cause problems.” He glanced back at the pair. “I hope they did not give you any insult.”

“They protect their own. I cannot fault them for that.” She met his hard eyes without flinching. “I can forgive them ignorance, but you know very well I am not human, Pack Leader. I can tell by the way you look at me.”

“Yes,” he said, thoughtful. “This is true, but you are close enough, and they are young. Come. Walk with me.” She fell in step beside him as he guided her away from both the human buildings and the wolflen huts until they were, without question, alone. “Your visit is unexpected. What do you want, Warrior?”

She tugged her cloak closer around her shoulders when the wind gusted. “First, don’t call me ‘Warrior.’ That is a name from a past I wish I could forget.”

“As you wish,” he agreed. “Though it was not meant as insult; it is very similar to what we call a pack name, something that identifies your place among the pack.” He looked away from the sky to meet her green eyes. “What is your given name, then?” He tilted his head in puzzlement when she looked down in shame. “I did not expect this to be a question that caused so much pain.”

“I answer to Tiwaz. It is a different word for ‘warrior’ that my friend called me when we first met. I…have never been able to remember the name I had been given.” She looked up, though she did not meet his eyes. “Tiwaz is good enough.”

“Very well. What is it you wish of me, Tiwaz?” he asked, his piercing gaze studying her more intensely, though she did not meet his eyes again.

“I wish to learn to hunt.”

“Is not your friend already teaching you? We have observed him in the forest, which is not easy to do and remain unnoticed. He is quite skilled. More than most of those not of the pack are.” He touched her chin with a fingertip, turning her face up to his. “Does he not teach you already?”

“Doom promised he would teach me. And he has!” she qualified quickly. “A little. But since the hunting is so poor, he is gone for days at a time. He said that it is too dangerous to teach me while so far from home.” Her simmering anger bubbled up. “He says I am not good enough to go with him.”

“We cannot help you. In our eyes, you and he are a pack, and we do not interfere in disputes within another pack.”

She crossed her arms, scowling at him. “I am not asking you to talk to him. I want to learn to hunt from you. Aren’t your kind the best hunters in these parts?”

The wolflen scowled, ruff rising a little at the hint of skepticism in her voice. “Of course we are.”

“If my friend Doom does not have time to teach me, I want to learn from the best. So when he needs help, I can be there for him.” Before he could say a word, she added, “I am willing to pay to be taught.”

“Pay?” Pack Leader laughed outright. “What could you possibly have that I would want?” His eyes widened when she brought out the ornamental knife, holding it in the flats of her palms. He chuckled, then laughed outright as he accepted the offering.