"Over there, men! It came from that way!"

Decliteur's voice rang through the trees around them as Theiden ran through the forest with the witch hunters. Callan's stocky frame could be seen at the lead, barreling through the undergrowth and clearing a path for the rest of them while Decliteur directed from just behind the man.

Theiden followed at about seventh place in the group of twelve or so men who had heard the scream and gone to investigate. Tareth was right behind him, anger and determination written on his face when they came to a stop at the scene of the crime.

Some men gasped or looked ill, others drew closer to inspect the body of the dead woman in a kind of perverse curiosity. Theiden turned away, familiar with the sight. He had come across a few bodies before while hunting forest animals, and each one reminded him of Malisse.

His eye fell on the victim's basket, on its side amidst a stain of half-trampled berries, and his heart jumped to his throat. It looked so much like Lenesa's basket that he had seen at the cottage. Now that he knew Lenesa was capable of killing innocents like the city guards, he wondered if she might have played a part in this murder, as well. Was her skin as covered as Audeste's now? Were her eyes clouded over with the anguish and hate that consumed all Turned creatures?

One of the witch hunters pointed off to the right, at a path of trodden grass blades and twisted stems winding through the trees. "The creature went that way!" he exclaimed.

Decliteur studied the trail, then nodded. "No time to waste," he said. "You two—" he pointed at the men closest to the body, "take the remains back to the city. The rest of us will resume the hunt."

Theiden's stomach gave a flip at the order. If Lenesa was behind this, she would be treated like any other animal in the forest and spared no dignity. He had seen it once before, shortly after his wife's murder. Theiden had been blinded by pain and vengeance and cheered loudly with the rest of the crowd lining the streets as the witch hunters had carried the limp form of a witch through the city, trussed up and carried between the men on a pole like a prize hog to the butcher. Whether the witch had already been killed or was being taken to torture had been unknown, but he hadn't cared then.

The memory of Lenesa shrinking into her armchair, barely able to meet his gaze as she explained the process of Turning, flashed through his mind for the second time that day. Theiden shook his head. If she was caught, he wouldn't be able to help her even if he wanted to.

Tareth nudged Theiden with his shoulder, raising his eyebrows and inclining his head in the direction the other witch hunters were going. "Are you coming?"

Theiden cleared his throat and gave a flicker of a smile. "Yeah, of course."

They'd only taken a few steps when they were interrupted by a shriek that reverberated through the trees, shaking the branches.

"This way!" Callan shouted, and the witch hunters quickened their pace, excited by the prospect of catching a witch. They were close, judging by the scream. Theiden barely resisted a shudder as he ran—it had sounded too much like the scream of the faun that Lenesa had saved him from on one of his first nights in the mountains.

"Wait!" Decliteur held up a hand, and the witch hunters behind him and Callan scrambled to stop in time, some bumping into each other in their haste to obey the order. Theiden stopped as well, instinctively inhaling through his mouth to catch his breath and muffle the sounds of his heavy breathing. He knew this kind of strategy from game hunting. When he had lost the visible trail, he would stay silent and listen for the sounds of the animal's escape.

Their party was rewarded a moment later with the distant sounds of heavy stumbling, heading away from the city. Decliteur silently motioned for the witch hunters to move again, but not before Theiden caught sight of a bundle tied with string lying at the base of a nearby tree.

"What is it?" Tareth asked when Theiden bent down to pick it up.

Theiden fought to keep his face neutral as he recognized the object for what it was. "Sage." Lenesa's cottage was filled with bundles of herbs similar to this one, and she had used this particular ingredient when the faun injured her shoulder that one night. She had trusted him then, though he had wanted to kill her.

"Do you think it belongs to the creature who killed that woman?" Tareth asked, his face darkening at the thought.

Theiden's lips thinned in a grim line. "Possibly."

"Let's catch up to the others and show Decliteur after the hunt," Tareth said.

Theiden gave an uneasy nod before they set off after the rest of the witch hunters. It wasn't long before they rejoined the group—Decliteur had ordered them to stop again, and everyone was busy stringing their bows or unsheathing swords. Callan had one of the new crossbows at the ready, and Decliteur held a broadsword. Theiden's eyes narrowed as he noticed that the head witch hunter held the Fae crystal in his other hand.

Whatever gives can take away, Decliteur had said as a way of explaining the crystal. Just what did that mean?

"Quietly, through the trees," Decliteur whispered. The men nodded, and at his signal, began to creep forward. Theiden slowly took out the knife at his belt—the summons to the forest had been so sudden that it was the only weapon he had with him at the moment. Tareth was also lacking in weapons, with just a small dagger about the same size as Theiden's. The others must have come from training or the supply room to have brought such a collective arsenal with them.

It seemed to Theiden as though a collective breath was held as they crept through the trees and into a clearing. A hulking, heaving shape covered in fur was on its side on the ground, two horns spiraling out from its head parallel to the earth. For a moment, Theiden thought he saw a flicker of blue through the trees on the other side of the creature. When he blinked, it was gone, and he shook his head as the hunters drew nearer to the faun.

The air grew fuzzy for a moment, and Theiden froze, frowning at the uneasy sensation tugging in his gut. Something was wrong. He tore his gaze from the faun and looked up.

They were surrounded.

Theiden drew in a sharp breath and fought against the instinct to step back. Several other witch hunters let out surprised gasps and shouts of panic as they recognized their situation as well. A ring of bluish-haired women in matching mud-green cloaks stood all around the edge of the clearing, their faces shadowed by the trees as they regarded the witch hunters with an unnatural stillness.

"Steady, men," Decliteur ordered. "Don't all turn your back on the monster before us."

"There are so many of them!" someone cried.

"We're outnumbered!" another shouted.

Theiden's gaze skimmed along the line of women, studying each face carefully. None of them looked like Lenesa, but with their faces shadowed by the trees overhead, he couldn't tell much more than that.

His eyes flicked to the cloak of the witch nearest him. The front had dark stains along the sleeve hems and along the front, barely visible against the dark color of the rest of the cloak. Blood. Theiden turned his attention to the next witch. Her cloak bore the stains as well—in the exact same place.

"They're identical," he breathed, his voice a mixture of confusion and horror.

"Well spotted," Decliteur said from the other end of the group, having heard Theiden's comment in the terrified silence that had ensued. "You're right about that. There's only one of them."

"What does that mean?" Tareth asked from beside Theiden.

Decliteur felt comfortable enough to smile, and raised the crystal in his hand. "Watch."

The ring of witches stepped back in unison with an echoing gasp at the sight of the crystal. Decliteur swung it over his head by the leather strap, and a beam of light shot from the end of the crystal, cleaving the copies and shattering them one by one.

When one of the copies didn't shatter at the light, Decliteur gave a victorious grin.

"That's the witch," he said. "Her tricks are no match for the crystal's power."

"Get 'er, men!" Callan shouted, pointing in her direction. The witch hunters gave a shout and charged forward, but the witch spun her cloak and her attackers were suddenly faced with a tree instead. Confused, some of the men circled the trunk, poking at the bark and drawing back in shock when their hands disappeared with a shimmer into the illusion.

"Don't let down your guard," Decliteur warned. "She's still around. Half of you get the beast on the ground, and the rest of you stay on the alert. No doubt they're working together."

When some of the men moved towards the faun, the creature rose up with a howl and swiped out with a large claw. One of the hunters who had gotten too close was swept back with a scream and an arc of red liquid sprayed through the air. A man near Theiden loosed his bow, but the faun was too fast and knocked the arrow out of the way.

Callan's crossbow was faster. The bolt shot from the weapon and borrowed into the faun's side, eliciting a bone-shilling scream as the faun reeled back from the impact. Another outraged cry echoed from the forest around them, and suddenly a flock of ravens descended on the hunters, who swiped and stumbled at the onslaught.

Theiden flinched when an outstretched talon raked across his face, but his shock didn't last long when pain and blood failed to well up from the wound. They were just more illusions, sent by the witch to distract them and give the faun a chance to escape.

Another bright light erupted from Decliteur's crystal, and the birds dissolved from the air as easily as sand blown away by a gust of wind. With the dark wings cleared, Theiden could see that the faun had almost made it to the tree line.

In the corner of his vision, Theiden saw Callan loading another bolt into his crossbow and raising it to aim at the creature.

The faun didn't stand a chance. This time Callan's shot hit it in the neck, and the creature collapsed to the ground with a gurgle, twitching and scrabbling against the ground with claws and hooves.

"No!" The tormented cry from the shadow of the trees shook the branches all around them, and several men stepped back uncertainly. Decliteur rushed forward with a snarl, breaking from the rest of the group and raising his sword to cleave the faun's head from its body. The head witch hunter placed a foot on one of the twitching legs and glared into the shadows of the trees around them.

"Come out if you dare and fight, witch!" he challenged. "Or are you too much of a coward to avenge your beast's pathetic end?"

The howl that answered Decliteur's taunt made Theiden's hair stand on end. This was wrong. Though the faun's milky eyes meant that it had already Turned, and likely the witch, too, Decliteur's actions were only stirring up the witch's rage and making the situation worse.

"Come out, come out, and take back your friend's head, if you can!" Decliteur gloated, grabbing ahold of one of the faun's horns and turning the face so that everyone could see. Theiden looked away, disgusted by the scene, and instead looked off into the trees.

There! Again, he thought he had seen a flicker of blue before it winked back into the leafy greenery around it.

"You'll regret this!" The witch's threat hissed around them, amplified by whatever kind of deceptive magic she wielded. "You're brave now when you have an army at your command, but you're weak on your own. Just wait. Your city will burn, and everyone in it. The witches will rise as one against this injustice."

Decliteur merely laughed. "The only burning that will happen is this animal's carcass upon our festival's bonfire tonight, while we dance and sing around it. Watch carefully, witch, as that will soon be your own future."

There was a final scream, a sound of pure rage and frustration that cut to the bone. Decliteur laughed, even as the witch sent a final illusion of insects swarming out of the trees and right at him. The head witch hunter merely held up the Fae crystal, and the insects parted to fly around him and the illusion harmlessly dissolved into dust before reaching anyone else.

The stillness that followed afterwards confirmed that the witch had left. With exclamations of triumph, the witch hunters surged forward to surround the body of the faun and bask in their victory.

"I have to get back," Theiden told Tareth, who was watching the proceedings as well. "My family is waiting for me."

"It'll be dark soon," the other man said. "Are you going to participate in any of the midsummer festival activities? Tonight's the start of the festival."

Theiden was only able to manage a smile by blocking out the sounds of the other witch hunters as they continued to rejoice around the faun's body. "My daughter will persuade me to take her out at some point, I'm sure," he said.

Tareth answered with a grin of his own. "Let's go back together, then," he said. "I'm sure the others have this creature taken care of, and besides, with that demon witch still on the loose, it wouldn't do to have you kidnapped again."

Theiden's laugh came out slightly forced, but Tareth didn't know him well enough yet to recognize it as such. Instead, the two trekked back to the city in a companionable semi-silence, interspersed by a few short comments here and there. At last, they reached the city gate, and after presenting their new citizenship papers to the guards, the men parted ways and headed to their respective homes.

Theiden was hit with a small blur of pink and yellow that wrapped around his waist as soon as he stepped through his front door.

"Em!" he exclaimed, a surprised laugh escaping as he worked to free himself. "At least let me take off my boots first!"

"You were gone for so long," Em mumbled from against his shirt. "We were worried."

Theiden kicked off his boots and nudged the door shut with his heel before crouching down to face his daughter. "There's nothing to worry about," he said. "I'm right here."

"For now, you are."

Theiden looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway to the kitchen, hands crossed in front of her chest.

"Mother," he said. "I can explain. There was a meeting with the witch hunters, then just now—"

"Do you have any care for us at all?" she interrupted. "Do you think I care at all about your excuses? Do you think we believe any of your promises?"

Theiden drew back, astonished by her outburst.

"You've lost our trust, Theiden," his mother continued. "You don't understand how we had to survive while you were away. How you could just abandon us like that—"

She broke off suddenly and turned to disappear back into the kitchen. Theiden could only stare after her in shock, feeling as though all the blood had drained from his face.

"Papa," Em interrupted shyly, tugging at his sleeve. Theiden slowly turned back to face her.

"Yes, darling," he said. "What is it?"

"Grandma may not care, but I want to hear your stories," she said. "Did you go on an adventure?"

Theiden kissed her forehead. "Something of the sort," he said, not wanting to scare her with tales of weapons and dangerous excursions through forests after Turned creatures. "I went to see Evaly, among a few other things."

"Evaly?" Em's nose wrinkled, and he took it as an expression of confusion.

"Yes, you used to call her 'the pretty lady from down the street', remember?"

"Oh." For some reason, Em didn't seem as enthused as when Evaly had been mentioned in past conversations. "Well, looks aren't everything, Papa."

Theiden frowned and gave a short laugh, bemused. "Well, of course they aren't. Why are you bringing that up all of a sudden?"

Em shrugged. "You said Lenesa wasn't bad just because she looks scary," she said. "So maybe Evaly isn't what she appears to be either, even though she looks pretty."

Theiden pushed an unruly dark lock back behind his daughter's ear. "My dear, Evaly isn't a witch."

"That depends on your definition of the term," his mother interrupted, having returned to the hallway with a spoon in hand.

Theiden frowned. "What are you talking about?"

His mother merely turned to Em. "Emmaline, it's bedtime. Upstairs, now." A bit of batter from the spoon dripped to the floor after her words.

Em's resulting frown matched her father's. "But tonight's the first night of Midsummer Week!" she exclaimed. "They light the bonfire tonight and the contestants for the Flower Queen show off their first night's costumes! The crowns are my favorite part!" She turned back to her father, her eyes wide and pleading. "Can't we just go to get a sweet fruit stick, please Papa?"

He stroked the top of her head and gave a small smile. "There will be tomorrow, dear," he said, taking her shoulders and directing her towards the staircase. "Go on and get ready for bed now. Your grandmother and I have a few things to discuss."

"A few things," his mother snorted as soon as Em had disappeared, a bit sullenly, upstairs. Rather than elaborate on her statement, she turned back to the kitchen—consequently flicking more batter to the floor from her spoon—and Theiden followed.

"What do you mean?" he said. "And what's all this about Evaly being a witch?"

His mother gave a short, humorless laugh, avoiding his gaze. "Not in the literal sense," she said bitterly. "But anyone as spineless as she is deserves to be called nothing else."

Theiden raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That sounds like an insult to witches, really." And judging by Evaly's no-nonsense confrontation with Caveelie earlier that day at the Panpipe Pub, he couldn't imagine a reason for his mother describing Evaly as spineless. "What brings about such an accusation?"

"Oh, nothing much," his mother began, a bit too airily to be sincere. "Only that she would pretend not to know us whenever we passed in the street, and ignored our requests for assistance during those difficult times."

Theiden let out a breath. "Evaly wouldn't—"

"You don't think so," his mother interrupted, turning to face him with a cold gaze. "But you don't realize how she adores you. She sees you as her way out of that wretched family business she's mired in. I wouldn't call what she has for you 'love', exactly, but her hopes and aspirations come close enough. Once you disappeared and she thought there was no chance with you anymore, she cut us off completely. We thought she could be relied on in a time of trouble like that. Instead, we nearly starved and had to sell our belongings. You can't trust someone who treats the family of the man she's sweet on like that."

Theiden shook his head, trying to piece together his mother's words. "There must be a misunderstanding," he said. "The tannery doesn't have the most lucrative income. Perhaps she had no money to spare, and couldn't afford to help at the time. Surely there were other people you could have—"

"The whole city thought us cursed," she interrupted. "No one would have anything to do with us, not even your precious Evaly." Upon this admission, she abruptly turned and went back to mixing whatever she had in a bowl on the counter with her spoon, but Theiden had already caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

He stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, feeling every inch the worst son in the city.

"I let you down," he said, feeling a lump in his throat. "You and Em both. I didn't think. After what happened to Malisse, I was angry and terrified at how close it had come to happening again with Em. It was a stupid thing to do." He took in a breath. "My only thought was to make the witch pay—to make all witches regret what they had done." He shook his head. "But it's not that simple."

His mother's shoulders slumped, and she set down her spoon on the countertop before turning back to look at him.

"I know you miss Malisse," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "And I do too. She had a gentleness and sensitivity to others' feelings that made anyone who met her feel connected and loved. I dare say you even learned from her and became a better person for it. But Evaly does not understand that inclusivity, nor does she show any indication of wanting to learn. Does she make you happy? Does she challenge you to be a better person? Ask yourself, Theiden, if you are truly better with this woman, or if you just seek something to fill the ache that Malisse left in our family."

Theiden opened his mouth to reply, but a knock at the front door cut him off before he could make a sound.

His mother sighed and turned back to the counter, picking up her stirring spoon. The rest of their conversation would have to wait. With a sharp, annoyed intake of breath, Theiden turned and headed back out of the kitchen and down the hall to the front door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sorry for the delay!  Thank you all for your comments on the last chapter and your patience.  If you're enjoying the story, please click that star button at the top to vote!