Finn Greyfoot's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The fire had burned low by morning. Finn shut the book and looked around Raven's haven with new eyes. Everyone here worked. The twin centaurs dragged elk to the market stall. A small green gnome with gray horns hauled a sack of supplies to trade for herbs. Finn had nothing to trade. He ate their food and gave nothing back. A seat at the fire was not the same as belonging, and he knew it. He found Raven near the greenhouse, stacking clay pots. "I want to earn my place," he said. "Give me work. Anything." Raven looked at him over her round glasses. "You don't earn a seat by begging for one." "Then tell me what I'm good for. I don't know how to garden. I can't build." Before Raven could answer, a wisp of an elf girl came around the greenhouse. Her gold wings hung too big for her body, dragging a vine off the wall as she passed. This was Willow, who saw the truth of everyone whether she wanted to or not. She stopped short when her eyes met Finn's. Her mouth opened before she could stop it. "He tracks," Willow said. The words came out flat, like they weren't hers. "By scent. Better than the wolves the pack sends. He can smell a stranger before it reaches the gate." She pressed a hand to her mouth, pale. Speaking the truth drained her every time. Raven turned slow. "That true?" Finn's face went hot. "I'm decent at it. My nose is good. I picked out the gnome's trail from a mile off yesterday. I didn't say anything." He never knew when to stay quiet, but this time he had. "The lower market keeps sending scouts," Raven said. "They find our paths. They watch the mill." She set down a pot. "You saying you could catch a scent that doesn't belong here?" "Give me the wind and I'll find them before they find us." Raven studied him a long moment. Willow leaned against the wall, still catching her breath from what the curse had pulled out of her. "Fine," Raven said. "Test it now. Someone crossed the north path before dawn. Wasn't one of ours. Find where they went." Finn dropped to a crouch and breathed the cold air. Sweat. Iron. A stranger's boots. He rose and followed the trail past the gate, along the wet ground, to a broken reed where the scout had knelt to watch the haven. He came back and told Raven exactly where the man had crouched and which way he'd fled. Raven's jaw tightened. "He was that close." She looked at Finn like she was seeing him for the first time. "You're not charity anymore. You're a nose. You walk the paths at dawn and you tell me who's out there." Finn felt the ground steady under him. He had a place now. But the scout had come close, and more were coming.