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That news brought out the desire in her parents to keep her from the woods. That was the way of her mother, after all. Protect at all costs. But the family needed the food Tarley hunted and caught to prepare for winter. So she had promised to remain closer to Sevens. The other agreement, which she did anyway, was to remain disguised. The risk had always been being caught and claimed as an unprotected female. Based on Kaloma Law, any man could turn in a found woman and claim a reward. That was why collectors roaming the land were such a threat. She wasn’t sure donning a cap and tucking up her hair made her look less female, but Brinna insisted Tarley could pull off young and boyish if she wanted.

“Just frown,” her sister had said with a smirk.

The reality was, Tarley needed her trips to the woods like she needed air to breathe, having decided long ago it was because of the peace they offered. As one of five siblings, the Fareview cottage had been loud and constant. She adored her family. They were her life. But lately, even having the boon of working at the Copper Pot, she still felt as if she were missing something, something that was hers and hers alone. Their mother had made accepting the position at the Copper Pot difficult. Especially after Auri’sGreat Nap Escapade. Scarlett had been impossible before, now she was tyrannical. Just being allowed to work for Credence had been an exercise in stubborn persistence.

“I want my family here where I know you are safe,” her mother had explained the day Tarley had finally won the battle of wills.

“Why wouldn’t I be safe with Credence? It’s Sevens!” Tarley had exclaimed. “Besides, it will free up some space here, since she’s offered to let me stay above the stables. Plus, I’ll be making coin, which will be helpful.”

Tarley had watched her mother and her father exchange glances, wondered about it, but hadn’t pursued her question because her father had asked, “How will she pay you?”

“Room and board, plus 25 luri a week.”

He’d hummed his acknowledgement before taking a bite.

“I’m not a child anymore,” Tarley had said. “I will take it.”

Scarlett wiped the tabletop with the edge of her apron. “It isn’t about being a child.”

“Then what is it about? Because I’m not following your logic, Mother. I’m a grown woman.”

“Yes. What is it?” Auri had echoed the question. “I’m tired of being a prisoner as well.”

“That isn’t… it’s not…” But Scarlett, her eyes dancing between them, her ivory skin pinkening, hadn’t finished her thought. Instead, she’d stood and left the room.

“How is that fair?” Auri had demanded. “It’s a simple question!”

Their father had set down his utensils, dabbed his mouth with his napkin, and cleared his throat. “Your mother didn’t have the safest life… before.” Tomas’s gaze jumped between Tarley and her siblings. “Forgive her protectiveness.”

“What do you mean?” Tarley had asked, suddenly unsure, as if a haze had lifted, revealing how little Tarley knew about her mother before that moment. Her breath had tripped on the clarity, making her feel confused, before sliding away upon her father’s reply.

“It isn’t my story to share.” Tomas had stood. “There’s nothing wrong with you working in Sevens, Tarley, if that’s what you want. You already go out on your forest trips. You’re still in Sevens, which I don’t think your mother can object to.” He’d sighed and glanced at the red ribbon tied to her wrist. “I’ll talk to her.”

Because that was what their father always did, talked their mother off her ledge.

Tarley had nodded.

Now, she finished her coffee and stored her cakes for later, wrapping one into her pack for lunch. She covered the coals of her fire, collected her gear, and left camp behind. Fish for dinner, she decided, because there was a fabulous spot where she wanted to decompress.

Tarley walked through the woods, humming quietly, observing the sights and sounds as she went. The raucous cry of ravens, the warble of the songbirds, the buzz of insects, and the breeze rustling the foliage. The spindle branches of the deciduous trees clothed in rich, verdant leaves, reaching toward her like hands. She sidestepped them, drew some away, ducked under them, finding her way through the brush on a path she knew well, while the sky shone blue through the treetops overhead. A clear, perfect day.

She broke through the trees into the clearing, her steps crunching along the pebbled beach, anticipating the beauty at the river’s edge. When she looked up, it wasn’t the river she saw, but the carcass of a golden horse washed ashore. Next to it, a body.

“Oh my gods!” Tarley dropped her equipment and covered her mouth, the sound of her rapid breathing and her racing heart overtaking all other sound. Her thoughts jumped to the impulse to flee, to stay hidden and safe, but then went to war with her training to help, to heal.

Three beats of her heart.

One.

Two.

Three.

Many might shy away from death, but Tarley was her mother’s daughter. She’d spent her entire life learning poultices, ointments, tinctures, balms, and a plethora of methods to help the sick and infirm. She’d helped deliver babies both human and animal alike. She’d set bones and wrapped them. She’d sat bedside for vigils and witnessed the death of a few, only to prepare bodies for those who couldn’t. Tarley wasn’t squeamish. After her count of three, she started across the clearing, knowing the bodies had to be burned to keep feral creatures and scavengers away.

The horse—which had been beautiful in its life—was still fresh, flies and other insects buzzing around it. It wasn’t yet bloated, which meant the animal hadn’t been dead long—or the body near it. One or two days perhaps. No smell of decay.

She knelt near the body.