Ellara Brightleaf's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

They trained until the light went orange. By dusk Ellara could cast the wind spell without pulling her hand back first. Her shoulder ached and her palm was raw. She hid the spell three times in a row before Erikku finally nodded. That nod was all she got. She leaned on her staff, breathing hard, the crystal at its tip still warm from use. "We need more than tricks," she said. "We need to know what's in there now. What it does. Where it's weak." She picked up the fox kit and set it on her shoulder. "Someone in this forest has seen the grove since it changed. We find them tonight." Erikku wiped his blade and slid it into its sheath. "The tavern," he said. "Hunters drink there." The Hearth & Mug sat warm and lit against the dark trees. Lanterns glowed beside a heavy timber door. Inside, the room smelled of smoke and spilled ale. Ellara felt the old danger the moment she stepped in. She knew half these faces. She had insulted most of them. A trapper near the fire looked up and went still. "The elf," he said flatly. Conversation dropped around him. A woman at the bar turned her back. Ellara remembered telling the woman her traps were cruel and clumsy. She had been right. It had not helped. Erikku felt the chill settle over the room. He stepped past her toward the trappers. "We're buying," he said. He set coin on a table. "We want to hear about the grove. The changed one." The trapper eyed the coin, then Ellara. "Your witch burned that bridge already." Ellara opened her mouth. The sharp word was ready. Then she thought of the stick at her throat that morning. She closed her mouth. She pulled a chair out and sat. "You're right," she said. "I was rude. You know the woods better than I ever gave you credit for. I'm asking for help. Plainly." The room shifted. The trapper blinked, caught off guard. A hunter beside him snorted, then dragged up a stool. "Never heard her say that before," he muttered. He took the coin. They talked. The grove's edge had crept outward since spring. The thing inside pulled its shape from whatever got close. Two hunters had walked in and come out wrong, speaking in voices that weren't theirs. The trapper leaned in. "It copies," he said. "Your face. Your friend's. Don't trust what you see wearing someone you know." Ellara sat very still. The fox kit pressed against her neck. She had come to pull her grove free. Now she knew the thing could wear Erikku's face, or her own, and walk out beside her. She stood and paid for a last round. Outside, the cold air hit clean. "It mimics the living," she said. "That changes the plan." Erikku nodded once. "Then we need a way to tell what's real."