"Would it kill you to stop for a second and talk to me?" Paris demanded while doing her best to keep up with Vivian's rhythmic but fast pace. "You can't just show up with impressive bow skills, spear an arrow through an ant's head, and not expect me to ask questions."

Vivian whirled back, then, a blazing fire in her eyes. Paris had never seen her irises burn that bright. "Look, I'll explain everything at camp, okay?" she said. "You don't know how lucky you are I was in Hearpont at the same time as you are. I mean," she blew a breath and massaged her temples, apparently stressed out. "What are you doing out on your own? At night time, no less! Who let you out, huh? Did you manage to sneak past the sentries? Dear heaven, that Jezer'thokth could have killed you, Paris. Your luck would run out at this point."

Paris noticed three things: one—there were sentries at the colony and she wouldn't have been aware of that had Vivian not let it slip, two—Vivian pronounced the demon ant's name like it was no big deal, which meant she was on a familiar level with this whole thing, and three—Vivian just called Paris in her full name. Not "Par". Not "Parry".

Just Paris.

"Well, never mind that," Vivian waved her hand in the air when Paris failed to form a coherent defense of her actions. They continued walking, their footsteps crunching against the carpet of dried leaves and twigs in almost a synchronous manner. "I need to prepare myself to face Balwyn too. The Elders will surely have a ton of questions for the both of us."

Paris opened her mouth to say something but Vivian turned to her partially, not stopping her strides. There might be protruding branches and stuff. Wasn't she worried about that? "Don't speak when we're in the Elders' tent, okay?" Vivian said. Before Paris could reach out and swipe away the black vines low enough to slap Vivian's head, the woman ducked. It occurred to Paris that Vivian was in fact hyper-aware of all the things happening in the forest and she could pay attention even while having a conversation.

Which brought Paris to the conclusion that Vivian, her lifelong friend and confidant, the girl who told Paris her parents sold flowers uphill, on the road leading to Amberall, the next town northeast of Stonedenn, was anyone other than that.

Worse, she seemed to be involved in all this madness and had been for longer than Paris.

"Balwyn will be sure to give you an earful so try to let it in one ear and out the other," Vivian was saying, her tone hurried and hissed like she was talking to herself more than Paris. "I'll get you out of this mess as fast as I could—"

"She's the one who sent me out," Paris blurted, cutting Vivian off before the woman could say anything more. "Balwyn's the one who consented on me going out tonight. You don't need to worry. I'll take this one. You don't need to save me."

Vivian paused so abruptly Paris almost ran into her. Then, she turned to Paris. "What for?" she said. "She couldn't be sending people out at night. It's against the law."

Paris tucked her curls behind her ears. Never mind that they were slick and sticky with demon blood and perhaps demon brains. "The colony ran out of firewood," she said. "I had to go."

Obvious consternation crumpled Vivian's features. "If I find out you're joking, Paris," she said. "I'll have your head for it."

Without anything more, Vivian whipped away and resumed her walk, leaving Paris with less time to figure out if she was bluffing or if she truly meant it.

Soon, the outline of the camp appeared on the horizon. Vivian heaved a sigh, her shoulders obviously slumping in relief. Paris, after spending the whole journey back staring at Vivian's back, had memorized the way the massive bow rested comfortably on Vivian's shoulders, the way a quiver chuck-full of long arrows bounced against her leg, and how her slender frame fit snugly in a combination of a tunic and straight-cut trousers. Oh, and her ankle-high boots managed to look stylish in the midst of flecks of mud and blood. In short, Vivian was still gorgeous, a brilliant ray of brown amidst all the gray and black.

Heads turned from burning bonfires as soon as Vivian entered the camp. Whispers followed their wake. Vivian paid it no heed, keeping her gaze straight and her features passive and flat. Paris, meanwhile, started twiddling her thumbs involuntarily. Those whispers were bad news. They're saying something bad about Paris being seen with Vivian, weren't they? Even in this place, Vivian managed to charm them. Paris? Paris was just an annoying flea flitting around in Vivian's hair.

"Those are just your thoughts," Vivian said. Paris raised her head to find the woman staring at her hands. She flinched and hid them behind her. Vivian turned and carried on. "When you're stressed or dealing with racing thoughts, you play with your fingers."

Paris almost breathed a sigh of relief. Being telepathic wasn't one of Vivian's secrets, at the least.

They reached the Elders' tent. Vivian sent Paris a stern look that told her to stay out. Without a word, Vivian ducked inside. The woman's gait suggested an air of importance, like she belonged in this place. Paris pursed her lips and kept both her hands behind her. They started twiddling once more. She did little to stop them.

Inside, muffled voices floated through the thin flaps of the tent. Paris strained her ears but she only heard bits and pieces. Vivian was speaking, then suddenly, it was Balwyn. One or two male voices would join every once in a while, no doubt the other Elders.

Then, a familiar voice dipped into the chorus. Paris's eyes widened at the same time her stomach twisted with hate. Reimer. That prick. He's the one who left her in the forest. So, he made it back, huh? Good for him. Good for him. He just gave Paris the chance to skewer him alive when she got the right timing.

After a few more bounces at the balls of Paris's feet, the tent flaps parted and spilled Vivan, followed by the fuckheads, Remier and Wharton. Both had passive frowns on their faces. The guilt and shame on leaving their comrades alone in the forest Paris expected to see in their eyes was absent. Paris exhaled a short breath. Pricks, indeed. They wouldn't even care if she lived or not.

Once an outlier, always an outlier.

Then, Balwyn stepped out. Paris turned to the Elder. A dark cloud painted the blond woman's face. "I expected more from you, Paris," the Elder crossed her arms. "I told you to not go off on your own."

"Technically, I didn't 'go off' on my own," Paris sneered. Why would she care if she pissed the Elder off? They already hated Paris from the start, anyway. "Those thick fucks left me."

Something flickered in the Elder's face. Her expression settled on a stern glower. "They came back to where you were last seen when they realized you hadn't been able to follow," she said. "They found you gone, having run off into the Woods—a place you don't know like the back of your hand, alone. Yes, you didn't leave on your own—I appreciate that—but you did wander off into the forest without anyone more experienced."

"But I am experienced!" Paris stomped her foot on the ground like the mature adult she was. "I cut off that ant's leg like it's clay. I would have killed it if I hadn't fallen into that stupid ditch."

Balwyn narrowed her eyes. "But you did," she countered. "You have to know that the battlefield isn't as predictable as your training sessions. You have to be ready for all eventualities. Luck and chance can only do so much. The next time you go out there, you might not come back."

Paris stepped forward to give the Elder a piece of her mind but a strong hand gripped her arm and hauled her back. "Come on, Par. Let it go," Vivian's equally stern voice bled in Paris's ears. She turned to find the brown-haired woman shooting daggers through her glare. She ducked her head at Balwyn in an apologetic manner. "I'll talk to her, don't worry. It won't happen again. Have a good night."

Paris sputtered as she was dragged away. Balwyn grunted before disappearing inside the tent. Did all the Elders stay there, even in sleeping? Weird.

Vivian ushered Paris through a familiar series of turns and paths. "How did you know where my tent was?" she asked Vivian as the woman stopped in front of the place Paris shared with Josin. "Are you just that good at guessing?"

Vivian looked at her with an amused smile. "This is my tent," she said. Then, a realization sparked in her eyes. "Don't tell me they gave you my place when I was away—" she ducked inside without reverence like she had indeed spent a while there before stepping back out slower than when she went in. "Huh. They really did it."

"Was Josin good to you? You haven't angered her yet? She can be quite scary when she's angry. Trust me on that," Vivian's goofy features did nothing to wipe away the fog in Paris's head.

"You...you might want to explain what in Idis's name was going on first?" Paris said. "Why do you talk like you spent your childhood in this place? Why do you know your way around? How did you have shooting skills like a fucking game hunter? Just..." she drove the stray curls off her forehead as she searched Vivian's eyes. "Who are you, Vivian Delavel? I feel like I don't even know you and we used to fuck until dawn, for hell's sake!"

Vivian chewed on her lip then jerked her chin towards the tent. "Let's get inside first, shall we?" she said. "I heard Josin's out. I can take her cot for the night."

With a grumble, Paris followed Vivian's suggestion. As soon as they were both seated, Paris crossed her arms. "Okay. We're inside," she said. "Talk."

"I was an appeasement," Vivian picked at the callous on her palms. "A long, long time ago. I was born on the second waning moon of the month too. That's why I don't want to go deeper into Stonedenn and why we only met on the ruins at the outskirts."

Paris snorted. "And here I thought we're doing it because you don't want to be seen by the crows," she said, referring to the gossiping ladies from the neighborhood. "Our relationship wasn't like the others, you know."

To her surprise, Vivian chuckled. "Nobody cares who's sucking whose tongue, really," she said. Paris disagreed. Vivian hasn't met Farda and her cohort. That's the only thing those crows were interested in. "The soldiers can execute me on the spot if I ever get discovered in any of the towns in Lycranse. An appeasement cannot enter the kingdom's borders once they're out."

"So why did you come back?" Paris asked.

Vivian averted her eyes and seemed to find the flecks of blood in her boots interesting. "I was assigned on a special assignment," she said. "I had to sneak back to Lycranse to search for something. Then, I happened to meet you and..." she smiled fondly. "You can say the rest is history."

Paris, meanwhile, wasn't amused by all these revelations. "Does it mean you are going back and forth Stonedenn and the camp? On foot? Is that why we only see each other two times a week and why I sometimes see you creeping out of the Woods?" she shook her head when Vivian muttered a faint yes. "Why didn't you tell me what's going on?"

"You might think me insane," Vivian defended. "Besides, being an appeasement and dealing with demons were the last things on your mind back then. Of course, I didn't want you to be one just so we could run away from that hideous town. Imagine my surprise when you really did find your way here without me doing anything. Back then, I thought it best to hide what I am and lie. If I hurt you, I'm sorry."

Paris forced herself to talk despite her throat closing up. "So that night..." she said. "What's supposed to be our last night...you knew where I'd end up?"

Vivian bobbed her head. "The sex was really good, though."

At that, a laugh bubbled out of Paris's mouth. "Was it?" She covered her mouth with her fist and laughed some more.

"Yeah," Vivian said. Not a tinge of shame or reservation colored her words and tone. "Who knew Paris Lerring, the sweet girl from town, could be that fierce, eh?"

Paris snorted. "I'm anything but sweet," she rolled her eyes. "Trust me on that."

Vivian's answer was only a giggle.

"So what was the assignment?" Paris asked after they've both calmed down and as soon as Paris's mind stopped playing images of naughty scenes with Vivian in her head. "You mentioned that earlier."

"Ah," Vivian fanned her face with her hand. "The Elders wanted me to find the thing that rooted the demons in our world. They believe it to be somewhere in Lycranse. They're fairly certain the Council was hoarding it to keep the people in line. As long as they're afraid, the Council can stay in power longer."

"That's nuts," Paris breathed. "How can you be so sure that's really the case? How did the Elders know that the demons are rooted in the Woods? How come you believe all this nonsense?"

Vivian jerked her chin at the dagger still slung around Paris's belt. "You say that yet you've risked your life fighting one," she said. "Sometimes, reality can beat logic, Par. This is one of those times."

"Then what about angelic beings?" Paris prodded. "Do you believe that too?"

Vivian shrugged. "Well, if there are demons," she tilted her head to one side as she rested her weight against her wrists. "There must be angels too, right?"

"Fine," Paris huffed. "Did you find what you're looking for?"

"Came close to it," Vivian said. "I know it's somewhere in Maldegrad since it wasn't in any of the other important cities in Lycranse. Don't give me that look. Of course, I checked. I wasn't spending all these years gallivanting around for nothing, you know."

"What are you going to do now?" Paris asked. "Why did you come back today?"

Vivian stuck her bottom lip out in thought. "I just felt like it," she said. "I'm running out of leads and my information on Maldegrad was really limited. I can't sneak inside the capital because of how heavily guarded it is. I remember nothing from when I was brought inside as an appeasement."

"Yeah," Paris bobbed her head. "It really was that way. All I remember was the water, the blood, and the foggy priests."

Vivian chuckled again. "Yes, the foggy priests," she said. "Well, I came back to rest. I have to deliver certain reports to the Elders too. About the stuff in other cities."

"Spy secrets, you mean," Paris supplied.

Vivian smirked. "You could say that."

"I'll join you," Paris blurted. "In your mission, that is."

A hesitant laugh rang from Vivian. When she realized Paris wasn't kidding, she frowned. "I appreciate the offer, but you're not ready yet," she said. "I don't want to put you in danger."

"Which you won't," Paris placed a hand on her chest to show she's sincere. "I can protect myself. How could I learn if all I'm being exposed to are sparring sessions? If I am to get better at this demon-hunting thing, I need to...I don't know, maybe hunt demons?"

"I get what you're saying," Vivian said. "But this is still too risky."

Paris huffed. She leaned forward as if to share a terrible secret about one of the farm ladies in Lance's property. She and Vivian used to do it a lot back in Stonedenn. "Do you know why I got lost tonight?" she said. "I asked Remier and Wharton what kind of firewood we wanted so I could help them look and they told me to shut up and watch. I don't want to be stuck with people like that while I'm still learning. At least, you care about me and wouldn't sideline me like that. If I have to learn, I would rather do it with you."

Vivian mulled about it for a while. Then, she locked eyes with Paris and scoffed. "I forgot how persuasive you can be," she said. "Fine. You can come. I'll talk to the Elders tomorrow. For now, we should sleep."

Paris glanced outside their tent to find the night to have worn off. It would be morning soon. What a weird and long day. She blew a breath and massaged her aching limbs. Perhaps she'd have Milliam look at her injuries tomorrow. Right now, her eyes felt heavy and a blanket of weariness settled on her shoulders.

Over on Josin's cot, Vivian has already spread the sheets and settled in. Straight strands of brown hair looked amber against Josin's beige pillow as they spilled in a smooth waterfall. "Good night, Par," Vivian cooed from the folds of her blanket as she turned to her side, her back to Paris. "See you."

Paris tucked herself to bed too. "Good night, Viv," she said. "I love you."

Light, fleeting snores were the only answers that reached her.