Author: Megan Derr
Date: 2015-06-15 21:44:51+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Novella; Fantasy; Lgbt; Queer; Fiction; Bisexual; Short Stories; Transgender; Lesbian; Magic
Description: When women and children begin to vanish, the people of Edge village summon a Huntress. Though she is long due for a break and exhausted from her previous assignment, Adamina accepts the assignment and heads for Edge. But when she arrives, the simple assignment she anticipated proves instead to be complicated—complicated enough she must consult with a witch. A beautiful, compelling witch that makes Adamina sharply aware of her own lonely life, and tempts her to make it less lonely. Assuming the forest doesn't kill them first.
Publisher: Less Than Three Press, LLC

Table of Contents

Title Page

Book Details

The Broken Forest

About the Author

The Broken
Forest

MEGAN DERR

When women and children begin to vanish, the people of Edge village summon a Huntress. Though she is long due for a break and exhausted from her previous assignment, Adamina accepts the assignment and heads for Edge. But when she arrives, the simple assignment she anticipated proves instead to be complicated—complicated enough she must consult with a witch. A beautiful, compelling witch that makes Adamina sharply aware of her own lonely life, and temps her to make it less lonely.

Assuming the forest doesn't kill them first.

Book Details

The Broken Forest

By Megan Derr

Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Edited by Amanda Jean

Cover designed by Aisha Akeju

This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

First Edition March 2015

Copyright © 2015 by Megan Derr

Printed in the United States of America

Digital ISBN 9781620044841

The Broken
Forest

When the first woman vanished, the villagers hoped that was the end of it. By the time the fifth one was taken from her bed and dragged off into the forest, never to be seen again, they knew it would never end, but still they were reluctant to summon a Huntress.

After they woke to find a child had been taken, the villagers conceded they had no choice.

They chose their fastest horse and most capable rider, and sent her hastening toward the capital to summon a Huntress.

By the time they received word a Huntress was coming, two more children had died.

By the time the Huntress arrived so had three more women.

*~*~*

It was damp, cold, and foggy when Adamina arrived. Few people were out of doors, and they fled quickly upon hearing the clip-clop of an unfamiliar horse. Torchlight flickered here and there but was not strong enough to puncture the fog.

The creaking of a sign guided her to the only place likely to have one in so small a village. She smiled when she drew close enough to see that the sign simply read Inn & Tavern. If ever it had possessed more of a name, all traces were long gone.

Dismounting, she passed through the gate to the right of the building and walked slowly until she found the stable. Once her horse was settled, she carefully crossed the courtyard until she came to the inn, walking along the wall a few steps until she came to the door. Pulling it open, she sighed at the warmth that washed over her, the smell of food that followed in its wake. After hours upon hours of traveling, it would be nice to rest and eat for a bit before she dove into her latest mission.

A man scrubbing the floor gaped at her, eyes going the size of dinner plates. Typical reaction in the outlying villages, where they seldom got into the kind of trouble that required a Huntress. Smiling briefly at him, Adamina continued down the hall until she came to the archway leading into a small but clean and moderately well-lit dining hall. Perhaps fifteen or so people filled it, huddled in scattered clusters. Fear lingered sharp on the air, pungent as fresh droppings. She wrinkled her nose and took a seat near the middle of the room, giving her space without setting her completely apart.

"Can I take your cloak, Huntress?" A large, heavy woman with pale skin and graying orange-red hair set a pitcher of hot ale and a cup on the table, then a platter of bread, butter, and honey. "Dry it off by the fire for you? I'll have food along shortly. Name's Victoria, I'm in charge of this establishment."

"Thank you, Mistress Victoria," Adamina replied, and handed over the long, heavy red cloak she wore. Victoria looked sad and wistful for a moment, then smoothed her expression into something more brisk and contained as she bustled it over to hang on a hook close to the fire.

Though Adamina's distinctive cloak was gone, there was still her red tunic, and even if she was naked her red eyes would mark her. Adamina quirked a brow, mouth curving, as she caught a cluster of young men staring. Had they ever had a Huntress in the village before? Victoria had seemed familiar with Huntresses, but given she was the only white-skinned person in the room she could know of them from wherever she'd used to live.

It would be a little strange if they'd never had a Huntress there before; the outliers seldom needed them, but seldom was not the same as never. She would have to confirm it.

Tucking the thought away, leaving the young men to their staring and whispering, Adamina cut a slice of bread and smeared it with butter and honey. Her stomach growled as she took a bite. She washed it down with the dark, faintly smoky tasting ale. She'd finished three slices of bread and nearly two mugs of ale by the time Victoria brought her a bowl of soup. "That smells wonderful," Adamina murmured. Smelled like the best thing she'd had in forever. Lately it seemed she did nothing but ride, sleep on the ground, and forage for food. It was nice to be back in civilization for a bit, even if that meant more work instead of taking a sorely-needed break. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, my lady. We are grateful to have you here."

Adamina was fairly certain grateful was not the word. Desperate was far more like it. But she appreciated the effort to be polite, rather than greeting her with superstitious hostility that was far more common in such remote villages. "Thank you. I hope I am swiftly come and swiftly gone. What is the soup?"

"Beans, carrots, onion, pickled cabbage, some herbs. A splash of milk for additional heartiness, but that's still within the bounds of the Huntresses, yes, my lady?"

"Yes, thank you," Adamina replied. "You seem experienced in our ways."

"My grandmother was a Huntress, Goddess rest her soul. She was slain by a manticore when I was a girl."

Adamina mentally ran through the list of Huntresses. "Lady Wynn. She is still greatly missed, a Huntress as strong as the Duchess Redd. I am surprised you did not follow in her steps."

"I tried, but I showed no affinity for it." She shrugged. "I gladly leave the guarding of the forests to women better suited than me. My strengths lie in the kitchen and ordering people about." Gesturing to the room around them, she added, "This inn wasn't much when I married and decided to move here to Edge to live with my husband, but I've made it something now. Everyone who comes to Edge Village enjoys their stay here."

"I believe it. Thank you again for the meal."

"Let me know if you need anything else." Victoria bustled off toward the table of whispering boys, said something that sent them scattering, then vanished into the kitchens once more.

Adamina ate her soup, ignoring the stares she could feel like cold fingers. Beyond the warm walls of the inn, past the dark and foggy streets, the forest beckoned with cracked and broken whispers.

She had heard of the Broken Forest, but had never heard that it was literally broken. She only knew it was called thus because it had long ago been separated from the Laughing Forest to which it had once belonged. What had done the deed and why, no one knew. Perhaps Adamina would be the one to solve the mystery at last.

If that was supposed to be an honor, it was one she would gladly pass on to another. She had been working nonstop for months, had missed two allotted breaks and desperately wanted one. She wanted an easy assignment so she could return home all the more quickly, not wade through a complicated, possibly dangerous assignment that could last weeks or even months.

She loved being a Huntress, more than anything in the world, but even the Great Queens needed a few days off here and there.

Heavy footsteps drew her attention, and Adamina looked up to see three men draw close. So much for politeness. Hopefully she could contain them before anything got out of hand. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

"Shouldn't you be out there, killing that monster before it takes more women and children?"

"Only a fool would venture into a dangerous forest when it is dark and foggy. A hunter who cannot see soon becomes hunted. If you want the monster dead then trust me to know my business."

"My wife is dead!" One of the men said, smaller than the other two, ragged around the edges. "That thing—I never saw it, she was just gone, and you're eating soup—" He stopped as Adamina stood.

Moving around her table, Adamina stepped in and pressed a hand to his chest, looked down into his eyes. "I traveled three days and three nights without rest to answer your call. Even now I listen to the woods whisper, and I shall know if the monster lurking in them slinks out. When the sun is up I shall find it and kill it. I know you're in pain, good sir, and I'm sorry for it. Trust me to know my work, or more people will die." She slowly withdrew her hand, squeezed his shoulder. "Let your friends take you home with them now."

He opened his mouth, closed it, then seemed to wither and did not protest when his friends drew him away, casting apologetic glances over their shoulders. When they had gone, Adamina resumed her seat, eating with less enthusiasm until there was nothing left but the dregs of the ale.

Victoria came bustling out a few minutes later and gathered up all the dishes. "I've had a room prepared for you, sent up a pitcher of hot water and soap. If you want a bath, I'll see it's done, my lady."

Adamina shook her head. "The hot water is all I need, thank you. The meal was delicious." She glanced around the few people who still remained, bent over their ales and clearly reluctant to venture home. Victims, or did they fear becoming victims? Looking back at Victoria, she asked, "Who should I speak with to learn all I can about the people who were taken?"

"Anyone, really," Victoria replied. "It's a close village, and so small that it's hard not to know everything about everyone. I moved here from a larger town, and it took some getting used to, let me tell you. Not as difficult as getting used to those woods, though. They always seemed gloomy to me, spooky even."

"You have good instincts," Adamina replied. "If you can spare the time, tell me about the women and children who were taken. Otherwise, send me to someone who can speak with me for an hour so."

Victoria pursed her lips in thought. "You'll want to visit Matlock—Peter Matlock, that is. He's what passes for a healer around here; we have to send up to Norton for a real healer when it's bad enough. He probably knows a few things people like to think the rest of us don't, if you follow. He'll still be awake this hour, hoping to be of some help before another dies, bless his soul. Just turn right out the front door, stay on this side of the street until you come to a building with an old green door."

Adamina nodded and stood, set a few coins on the table. "Thank you, madam." Victoria tucked the coins away, and bustled off. Adamina fetched her cloak from beside the fireplace and headed out.

The old green door proved as easy to find as promised, and she gave it several soft raps, squinting through a dirty, smudged pane of glass, unable to catch more than shadows and a couple of flickering lamps. After a moment, the door swung open. "Has there been—oh! My lady, please come in." The man in the doorway hastily stepped back, pushing at the slightly crooked spectacles he wore, combing through messy brown hair as he hastened over to where he had been reading a book and drinking what smelled like mulled wine. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"No, but thank you," Adamina replied, and sat in the second chair when he gestured she should. Exhaustion washed over her, made her eyes heavy, but she pushed it away. "Victoria told me that I should speak to you about the women and children who have died, that you might know something that connects them that no one else in the village knows—or should know, anyway."

"Peter Matlock," the man said. "An honor to meet a Huntress." He took a gulp of wine. "I can tell you something, actually. The women had all been sealed, and the children were witch-potentials."

Adamina's mouth tightened. That unpleasant, though not entirely unexpected complication. She'd just been hoping for an easier, less dangerous cause.

If whatever was stealing people was seeking out sealed witches and witch-potentials, then they needed the raw magic energy, and that meant there was warped magic or a curse involved. Combined with the fractured whispers she had been hearing since her arrival, she dreaded what she would find when she finally entered the forest. And that definitely killed any hope this would be an easy, quickly resolved problem. She'd still try, though; there'd been enough death already. "Who else here has been sealed or will be considering it when they come of age?"

Picking up the book he had set aside, Peter pulled out a small slip of stiff, crackling paper filled with neat lines of writing. "These are all of them. I was considering speaking to them, but I was afraid that if word got out…"

"You were right to hold your tongue," Adamina replied, thinking of all the witch burnings born of panic and desperation. Magic, the problems it caused, and fear of it had finally driven the previous Red and White Queens to pass a law requiring all those who possess the ability to practice magic to register with the crown, and either pursue the practice under the watch of the crown or have their magic sealed away to live as a non-magic person.

Nearly everyone with the potential chose to have their magic sealed away. Those who were permitted to practice magic were few: the Sorcerers, the Huntresses, and a small amount of independent witches who dwindled in number every year. Frustrating, both because of the superstition that made her job more difficult, and the fewer the witches to solve small, local problems, the more problems put upon the Huntresses and Sorcerers, and there were never enough to solve problems as quickly as everyone would like.

Hence her exhaustion and desperate need for a break. But the people were more important than spending a few days dozing and fishing. Being lazy could wait. Dying women and children could not.

"Thank you." Adamina tucked the slip of paper away as she stood. "Blessing of the White upon your house."

"Strength of the Red on your journey," Peter replied, and walked her to the door. She waited until she heard it lock, then headed back to the inn.

In her room, Adamina used the warm water to clean her face and hands, then bundled up in her cloak on the bed and closed her eyes. She curled her fingers around the pendant hanging from a short, black leather cord around her neck: a wolf head carved from the bone of a wolf that had died of natural causes. It was almost hot to the touch, the magic panting hot and heavy in her ear with impatience for the hunt. "Tomorrow," she whispered, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The soft growl of impatient magic stirred her as the gray haze of sunrise slipped through the cracks and seams of the walls. Adamina yawned, rolled over onto her back in bed and stretching with a long groan. Work, work, work. Nine months she had been gone from the palace, and most days it felt a good deal longer than that. Some days it felt like she would never see home again.

After rolling out of bed, she splashed water on her face to banish remaining grogginess. Once downstairs, she snagged a hot ale and fresh bread with honey from the kitchens before heading out into the cold, foggy morning. She had finished eating by the time she reached the stable, ducking inside just long enough to see her horse was doing well and to fetch her crossbow, arrows, and a bag of foodstuffs. A few villagers were out, fetching water and dumping waste buckets, whispering in little groups until they saw her and scattered like birds.

The broken whispers of the forest beckoned and at her throat magic chafed to be set free. Adamina ventured as close as she dared, stopping right at the edge of the tree line. Drawing the knife at her left hip, she slit her palm and pressed it to the trunk of the nearest tree. "Forest, I request permission to enter here, to have domain here, until the evil is cleansed and you've no further use of me."

The forest's reply was slow, fractured. Enter—Huntress—Queens—Protect. The power behind the words was strong and true, at least, and Adamina entered unchallenged, her own power pouring down into the forest floor like roots, merging with the forest itself. Enter Daughter of the Huntress Moon, in the names of the Sister Queens who united all and protect us still.

A howl pulsed in Adamina's blood as she caught the scent of something that did not belong: rotten magic, human blood at least a few days old, underscored by a stench of fear so strong it coated her tongue like oil. Reaching up, she removed the necklace from around her throat, letting it dangle from her blood-sticky fingers.

Blood coated the pendant, shimmered, faded, and turned the bone the rust-brown of old blood. Magic dripped from the pendant, began to trickle, shimmering faintly as it did so. The trickles moved like vines to spread and fan, twine and curve and bend into the shape of an enormous wolf. It glowed with brilliant red light, and as it faded a wolf the color of dirt and old blood stood at Adamina's side, standing as high as her hip.

She combed her fingers through the wolf's fur. Ready to hunt? The wolf growled in reply. Then go. Bring down the monster murdering women and children and polluting a broken wood that wants only to be left in peace. The wolf nudged her hand, brushed against her thigh, and then took off into the woods.

Adamina jogged after her, casting most of her attention across the forest, feeling pain and fear, scars and open wounds. Broken magic left a sour tang, twisted magic was smoky and rotted, and over all of it was the damp smell of earth and the musty scent of falling leaves. Winter chill crept over autumn briskness, driving frightened animals further into their dens or higher into their trees as they wondered if they could survive ice and monster both.

The taste of fear abruptly increased right before she heard the wolf howl for her. Adamina ran as quickly as was possible in a dense forest. She jumped a brook, darted up a hill, and back down it, threading through the trees, until she came to a small clearing where her wolf fought viciously against…

Something that might have been human once, though it was impossible to say for certain. Its skin was sickly white between mud and the vines that grew around and even through it. The creature hissed and spat and yowled like a beast, fought the wolf with long teeth and claws where its nails should have been.

The wolf howled, whined as the claws sank deep, but it twisted in the creature's hold and got a grip on its throat, crushing the bones, and ripping the flesh out. Snarling, the wolf examined the body carefully before withdrawing with a soft growl. Bad smell. Madness. Lingering curse. Rage. There is another… and it is stronger.

Adamina made a face and drew a small sack from the pouch at her waist. Filling her hand with salt, she scattered it over the creature's corpse, reciting prayers for peace and purification—and was not surprised when the salt burst into tiny points of black flame and smeared like blood over the corpse. I'd say the curse is more than lingering, and it feeds itself. I think the creature is both curse and victim of it. What is that smell? It's familiar…

She tucked the salt away and pulled out a small green glass bottle. Pouring the viscous contents over the corpse, Adamina softly chanted the words of a slower, more complicated prayer. As she finished speaking, the liquid spread over the body and with a soft shimmer of magic turned it to stone. Kneeling, Adamina tangled her fingers in the undergrowth, eyes closing as she silently communicated with the forest. After a few minutes, dark green vines with bright red flowers rose slowly up from the ground and began to wrap around the stone figure, hiding it from the world.

Rising, Adamina looked around the rest of the clearing, trying to find the source of the bitter, salty smell that did not seem to be fading. Something about it nagged at her. What is that smell?

I do not know. The wolf helped explore the clearing, shoving her nose into every nook and crevice—and finally sneezing so loud that the birds in the trees above scattered with angry caws. Here.

Adamina crossed the clearing and knelt beside the wolf, frowned at the small, spiny leaf she nosed. "This…" It was familiar; the image of a sketch in a book flickered in her mind. Reaching into the large pouch worn at the back of her heavy belt, she pulled out a small, battered book given to her long ago by her mother. The front of it was plain save for where the image of a sleeping rose had once been embossed in gold, only a faint impression of it remaining. Opening it, she flipped through page after page of plants and flowers until she found the spine-edged leaf.

"Oh, hell and damnation. It's rapunzel. Who in the name of the name of the Great Queens brought rapunzel into these woods?" She closed the book and stowed it, then pulled a pair of wooden tweezers from another pouch and gingerly picked up the leaf, wrapping it in a piece of cloth before stowing both items. "That would explain the madness of the poor creature. A child abandoned in the woods, perhaps? Consumed too much rapunzel, and if it had magic… It's been feeding on the villagers to try and stabilize that magic, fix it. Poor thing, it was damned the moment it started eating the rapunzel."

They. There is another, and this one was the weaker of the two.

"Two children abandoned in the woods… feeding on rapunzel… I fear there is more to the story and it will not make good hearing." She looked out over the woods. I think we need a witch.

The wolf nudged against Adamina's thigh, then rested heavily against her. Yes.

Adamina sighed. "I am going to leave you to guard the village. Do not do anything stupid while I am gone. I will return with a witch as quickly as possible. I believe there was one only a day's travel or so away." An independent witch, but hiring her would be faster than calling for, and waiting on, a Sorcerer. "Let's get back to the village."

By the time they reached it, most of the fog had dissipated, leaving only a swirling mist that lent a sleepy quality. More people milled about, watching her as she returned to the inn, pointing and whispering at the wolf.

The innkeeper greeted them as they stopped in front of the inn. "Back already?" she asked.

Adamina shook her head. "A problem has arisen that requires a witch. While I am gone, I am giving you my wolf to guard the village until I return. Let me have your hand, if you do not mind." Victoria nodded and placed her hand in the one Adamina held out. Covering it with her other, Adamina said, "Until I return, my wolf is yours. Heed her and all will be well."

"Yes, my lady," Victoria replied, looking dazed as the wolf left Adamina's side to lean against her, tongue lolling.

Adamina smiled and ruffled the wolf's head in parting, then headed around through the gate to the stables.

It took her until just before dusk to reach the place where she had smelled a witch while riding hard toward Edge Village. Dismounting, she approached the tree line a few steps away from the road. Magic whispered over her skin, and then she was through the magic barrier that had been erected. Nothing harmful, else she would have noticed sooner. Probably just to warn the witch that someone was approaching.

A narrow path wended through the woods, easy to miss between two large, old oak trees. It eventually ran parallel with a large stream. She traveled up a hill and spilled into a large clearing filled with high grass and a smattering of insects that had not yet succumbed to the chill of coming winter. A cottage half-covered in candy flowers, so called for their round petals and bright myriad colors, occupied the far end of the clearing. A little pond was on the east side of it, and there was a small stable with an ass grazing nearby on the west side. The door had been cut into the west end of the front wall, a large window next to it, currently covered with heavy shutters.

Smoke curled from the chimney, carrying the scent of roasting pumpkin. Adamina's stomach growled and homesickness swept over her. She thought of the winter celebrations she was going to miss, how much she would like to see her parents and siblings, how long it had been since she had seen them.

Adamina led her horse to the stream, left it there to do as it pleased. The creaking of a door drew her attention, and she turned with a greeting on her lips. She forgot the words entirely as she stared at the witch, cock twitching in her breeches in a way it hadn't for a long time. Of late, Adamina was too tired, too busy, or too wrung out to be moved by anyone.

The witch was beautiful. She looked a few years older than Adamina's twenty-eight. She had long, curly, springy dark brown hair slightly touched with autumn red, parts of it woven into braids threaded with wooden charms that clinked when she moved, and light, yellow-brown skin heavily covered with freckles. Her faded blue dress was patched with squares of green and white in places, and the sleeves had been rolled up past her elbows. It was mostly covered with a cream-colored apron smeared with stains of various colors and spots of water. She held a large basket at her hip, filled with jars, and her skin was shiny with sweat. Smiling, the witch said, "Good evening, Huntress. If you'll give me just a moment to stow these jars in the cellar, I'll be more than happy to have you for dinner."

"Take your time, please," Adamina watched her go, unable to tear her eyes away. Oh, how she wished the witch wanted to have her for dinner.

Snorting at her own thoughts, she took the reins back up and led her horse closer to the stable, removed all the equipment and got it cleaned up and into a stall with food by the time the witch returned. Waving a hand at her horse, she said, "I will compensate you for the use of your stable and food. I apologize for troubling you unexpectedly."

Laughing, the witch beckoned Adamina to follow her into the house. "No one ever sends a witch an announcement they are coming, Huntress. I never mind receiving one of the Queen's finest. Please, make yourself comfortable. I've some pumpkin soup on if you're inclined to eat."

"I am always inclined to eat," Adamina replied, sitting down at the large table in front of the fire that took up most of the room in the little cabin. It was still scattered and messy with the remains of what had clearly been a long day canning various foods. At a glance, the witch had prepared apples, beets, cranberries, carrots, and pears. Adamina could also see pumpkin and a bin of potatoes, and all manner of herbs hung from the rafters. Not just a witch, but a successful one.

With hazel eyes, freckles across her broad, flat nose, and the prettiest smile.

Adamina tried to bring her thoughts back to where they should be, murmuring a heart-felt thanks as a bowl of fragrant pumpkin soup was set in front of her alongside a cup of cider. The witch's hand paused around the cup; Adamina looked up, tilted her head. "Is something wrong?"

"Your wolf pendant is missing, my lady. Are you well?"

Adamina nodded. "I miss her, but I felt better leaving her behind in Edge Village. That is the reason I am here to see you, in fact."

"Oh?" the witch asked, cleaning off the table briskly before she sat with her own bowl and cup. "Pray tell what is wrong. Edge is generally a quiet village despite the gloom that hangs around it. The villagers have been told before they would be better off leaving that place to be taken by the woods, but they remain. I've had a few of them come to me over the years, but mostly they're a superstitious enough group that they prefer to stay well away from my type." She gave a soft snort. "They must be either terrified or in awe of you, my lady."

"Mostly the former, I think," Adamina said. "I am sorry. Here I am enjoying your wonderful soup and I've not even had the good grace for introductions. My name is Adamina Rosenfeld."

The witch smiled. "Grete, my lady, and I take no offense when someone enjoys my cooking so enthusiastically, and without suspicion."

"Witches are the best cooks I know."

Grete's smile widened as she took Adamina's empty bowl and refilled it. "I'd give you bread if I had it, but there's not much in the way of grain around these parts. It has to wait until I can go into town, and I've had no cause to do that for some time."

Adamina dismissed the words with a shake of her head. "Your soup is perfect."

"Well I certainly shan't argue with you, my lady," Grete said with a bright smile. "I enjoy compliments far too much to protest them." Her eyes lingered a moment before she turned away to resume her own seat. "So what is so wrong in Edge Village that my humble services are required?"

Reaching into one of the pouches at her waist, Adamina pulled out the kerchief in which she had earlier stowed the leaf and held it out. "Be careful."

Grete nodded as she gingerly unwound the kerchief—then froze, eyes widening. "This… this is rapunzel. It was eradicated, I thought. Even having a powdered version or a tincture containing it is a serious offense. Where in the name of the Great Queens did you get fresh rapunzel? Thank whatever fortune guards you that it was not the blossom you found."

"I was summoned to Edge Village to kill a monster dragging women and children from their beds and feasting upon them. All of those killed had been sealed or were coming of age."

"I see," Grete said quietly. "The beast was addicted to the rapunzel, but now the rapunzel is wreaking havoc upon its magic and body and it needs witch meat, so to speak, to repair the damage."

Adamina sighed. "They need witches. That is the other problem. There are two of them. One I have turned to stone, since it was beyond all hopes of purification, but the other—stronger—one roams free. I can track and kill it, but I fear there are things about which I do not yet know, and I'm concerned what effects the rapunzel might have had on the forest."

"I'll come, of course. Two, you said? Were they human? Of about what age?"

"I could not say. Human when they were born, certainly, but completely distorted by the rapunzel and the forest. Why, do you know something?"

Grete bit at her thumbnail. "Maybe. My full name is Grete Thane."

Adamina paused with a spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth, let it drop back into the bowl. "Thane. As in the one they called the Mad Witch?"

Wincing, Grete nodded. "Yes. She was my aunt. We used to live together, the three of us, in this very cabin. My mother and her did not always get along, but we managed well enough. Then, of course, we learned of the kidnapped girl."

"The woman in the tower," Adamina said. "I thought that was just a tale."

Grete's mouth flattened. "Unfortunately not. My aunt traded rapunzel for a baby, and kept the poor girl locked in an old tower in the woods all her life. My mother and I always wondered why she went into the woods so often, but we never questioned it because we were relieved she was gone. By the time we learned all that she had done, it was too late. My aunt had run off, never to be seen again, and we found the poor captive woman's body lying broken at the base of the tower. Evidence of terrible things…" She covered her eyes with her fingers. "It will always be my shame that I did not act sooner, that if I had been less selfish I might have saved a woman's life. And perhaps those children…" She dropped her hands and shook her head. "We found evidence that the woman had given birth, but never could find the children. We scoured the woods for them, asked around as best we could. After a couple of years with no success, though, my mother and I were forced to give up."

"The forest took them in," Adamina said quietly. "But they also fell into the rapunzel. How sad." She finished her soup and pushed the bowl away. "Thank you again for dinner. Is there a way for you to eradicate the rapunzel?"

"I can try," Grete replied. "I'm not a sorcerer, though. I weave charms to trade for pumpkins and ward the village well in exchange for cider and beets. I'm not unfamiliar with dangerous work, but neither do I excel at it, Huntress."

Adamina nodded. "I appreciate any help you can offer, though you seem so successful I suspect you are more skilled than you admit."

"I do as well making jams as charms, I assure you." Grete winked at her as she gathered up the dishes and settled them in a bucket. "Give me just a few minutes to clean all of this up, my lady, and I'll get a bed prepared for you for the night."

"You need not go to such trouble for me. My cloak and the fire are all I need."

"My mother would have taken a switch to me for being so rude. Have another cider, I shan't be long." She swept out of the cabin before Adamina could reply.

Bemused, Adamina obediently poured more cider and moved to sit closer to the fire, making a soft noise of appreciation at the soft rag rug set before it. She removed her muddy boots, scraped the worst of the dried muck into the fire, then set them close by, stripped her socks off to warm her feet, give them a chance to breathe after so many days of hard traveling.

She would give everything she owned for a proper bath and a soft bed, but thinking of such things just made her all the more homesick. Her father's garden would be blooming with frost roses, and all her nieces and nephews would be piled into the manor for the winter holidays. A few of them would be going to the Royal Feast for the first time. She had hoped to be home in time to see them enjoy it.

Ah, well. She had known what becoming a Huntress would entail. Reaching into a hidden pocket in her tunic, Adamina withdrew a small velvet pouch. Tipping the contents out, she ran her fingers over the old, slender silver case decorated with silver vines and porcelain flowers. She flipped the catch and opened the case to display the mirror it protected. "Show me my mother."

The mirror shimmered, then filled with a blur of colors that slowly sharpened, only slightly fuzzy around the edges: a woman with pale, pink-white skin, silver-touched black hair pulled up in an elaborate knot of braids, wearing a dark gold gown trimmed in bright gold lace. From the way her head was angled down, the slight pucker to her brow, she must be working, reading through all the paperwork that came from running a merchant company that owned no less than seven ships.

Large, dark hands fell on her shoulders, and she smiled as Adamina's father leaned down to kiss her briefly. Adamina had gotten her dark eyes and black-brown skin from her father, along with her brother Stephen; the rest of their siblings had fallen somewhere between their parents. She had also inherited her mother's black hair, where most of her siblings had lighter brown hair.

Adamina smiled, thinking of her brother, a year and half older than her, their mother's protégé in all things business. Adamina had done her time as an apprentice, but her heart had always belonged to the forests.

"Enough," she said quietly, and the image turned into swirling mist and faded away. If she managed to finish up with the rapunzel problem quickly enough, perhaps she could still make it home in time for the end of the festivities. She tucked the mirror away and sipped at her cider, enjoying the heat lapping at her tired feet.

The door creaked open and Adamina turned to smile—faltered at the way Grete froze in the doorway, stared at her wide-eyed. "Is something wrong?" Adamina asked.

Grete seemed to give herself a shake. "Not at all, my apologies." She bustled over to the work table and the cabinets close to it and put all of the clean dishes away before sliding the bucket beneath the table. "I can heat some water if you'd like to clean up a bit. I know what it's like to travel for days without being anywhere long enough to take off your boots."

"You've been more than gracious, already. I'll survive a few more days, and then I plan on finding a tub and all the hot water I can afford."

"As you wish. I will say the luxury of living alone is that I can have a bath whenever I want, and I don't have to share the water." Her mouth tipped at one corner. "The downside is that I have to haul the water all by myself. So it goes." She waggled her eyebrows before turning away to go to the bed in the corner and open the chest at the foot of it. "I've blankets aplenty here, they should keep you more than comfortable. We can leave at dawn?" Adamina nodded, and took the blankets as Grete held them out. "I'll get my things packed now, then, while I get ready for bed myself." She turned away, humming quietly as she bustled about the cabin.

Adamina fetched her saddlebags where she'd left them by the door and dug out clean socks. Returning to the fireplace, she pulled the new socks on, then set out the blankets. As promised, they made a more than adequate bed. She turned—and stopped, mouth going dry as she stared at Grete's bare back, a hint of breast, firelight bathing her skin like a lover.

She turned away, told her damned cock, already half-hard, to behave. Children were being murdered; her libido was going to have to behave itself. Settling down, adjusting the blanket around her, Adamina murmured a goodnight. She smiled when Grete bid her pleasant dreams.

Warm, full, and exhausted from a long day, it took her only moments to fall asleep.

Stabbing, throbbing pain threw her out of sleep, left her curled in a ball, choking on a scream. Her left leg and right shoulder felt as though they were on fire. Her wolf was being attacked, and the fight was not going well. Damn, damn, and double damn. Throwing off the blankets, Adamina reached for her boots and yanked them on, shoved her dirty socks into her saddlebags and threw them over her shoulder as she stood up.

"Is something wrong?" Grete asked from the bed. A moment later a candle flared to life. Grete climbed from bed, looking like something from a dream in a pale blue sleeping gown, her hair covered with a dark blue scarf.

Adamina winced as her shoulder throbbed sharply again. Fear sped the beating of her heart, tried to flare into panic, but she tamped it down. "My wolf is in a fight. I'm feeling it because we're so far apart and she's struggling to draw needed energy. I have to go back. You can follow—"

"Nonsense, I'll come now," Grete replied, pulling off her gown and quickly changing into breeches, boots, shirt, and a heavy winter tunic. Picking up a heavy leather belt, she buckled it in place and then affixed two pouches and a large hunting knife, then swung a cloak over her shoulders and pinned it in place. She doused the candle by her bed, then picked up a bucket of water and threw it on the fire, prodding at the ashes until she was certain the fire was out. Returning the poker to its stand, Grete then turned to Adamina and said, "Shall we?"

Adamina nodded and led the way out of the cabin, across the moonlit grass to the stables. It took only minutes to ready her horse and mount up. She extended a hand to Grete, who took it and swung up smoothly behind her, arms warm and solid around Adamina's waist, a pleasant counterpoint to the sharp, stabbing pains that made Adamina flinch every few minutes as they rode. A welcome distraction to the tightly coiled fear that was just waiting for a chance to spring up and overtake her.

The pain began to ease off halfway through the ride, though a dull ache lingered, meaning the wolf had not been terribly successful in her battle. Hopefully she had been successful enough. Morning dark gradually gave way to daylight, though the sunshine was no real help against the biting cold that promised winter was right on autumn's heels and closing fast.

The village was far too quiet when they arrived. All the doors and windows were closed, shops marked that they were not open for business, and the only people on the streets walked hastily, looking fearfully around, moving even faster when they saw Adamina.

"I see little has changed since my last visit," Grete murmured quietly. "A couple more generations of this sort of tension and they will start burning witches rather than endure one for even an hour."

"Let us hope not." Adamina halted the horse in front of the inn, let Grete dismount. She had just hit the ground herself when her wolf came limping through the gate, whining in relief, settling so heavily against her legs that Adamina almost toppled over. "Oof." Kneeling, she gingerly examined her wolf. The wounds had mostly healed, but not entirely, and her eyes were decidedly lacking in light. "Time for you to rest, beloved. Come." Adamina cupped her head and kissed her right between the eyes. The wolf shimmered, turned into light, and wrapped around her neck, settling once more into a bone pendant on a black cord. "What happened?" Adamina asked as Victoria came through the gate. She slowly rose, took the reins of her horse.

"Your wolf ran off a little after midnight, got into a fight with that thing right outside Miss Cheryl's home. Managed to tear its arm clean off, but then it ran away and the wolf was too weak to follow." Her gaze shifted to Grete. "Grete, thank you for coming."

Grete returned the greeting with a nod. "Victoria. Is there anything else you can tell us about the attack?"

"I'm afraid not. It all happened so fast, and it was dark and misty. I saw it run off past the bakery." She pointed down the street. "But I did not dare follow it further than that."

Adamina nodded, gently squeezed her arm. "I'm glad you did not. Thank you for looking after my wolf."

"I am honored to be trusted with it, my lady. May I take your horse?"

"Yes, thank you. We'll go after the creature. Do not worry for us until two weeks have passed. If I think we'll be longer I'll send word to you. If we do not return after two weeks, send to the capitol and tell them all that has transpired."

"Yes, my lady." Victoria bowed her head, then turned and led the horse away.

Adamina turned to Grete. "Shall we?" Grete nodded, and Adamina led the way down the street in the direction Victoria had pointed. The bakery was easy enough to find, for what other shop would be fronted with a large, costly glass window to display loaves of fresh bread and pastries?

There was a blood trail just visible in the steadily encroaching dark. Adamina followed it into the woods, Grete close behind, though far enough back not to hinder her should a fight come upon them. The smell of blood grew sharper, underscored by the faint scent of rapunzel, leading them along a winding trail through dense forest, further impeded by the tight fist of night.

Drawing to a halt alongside a tree as thick as two stout people, Adamina glanced at Grete. "Do you need light?" Grete shook her head, and motioned to her eyes, which Adamina only then noticed seemed to shine faintly, like moonlight on water. "A spell?"

"It's called 'night sight' and takes quite a bit to cast, but it does have its uses," Grete replied. "One of the first spells my mother taught me. I usually keep it ready to go in one of my charms, so I can use it in a moment." She smiled. "I've never seen a Huntress at work. I thought I could move quietly, but you make me feel like a drunk boar in a glassmaker's shop."

Adamina laughed. "For what it's worth, you have not once proved a hindrance. Normally having people along causes me problems. You have proven to be an asset, if occasionally distracting." She drew a sharp breath through her nostrils as Grete stepped in closer, smelling of sweat and earth and faintly of pumpkin.

"Distracting?" Grete murmured, mouth curving, head tilting back, throat bared as she met Adamina's eyes. "In a good way, Huntress?"

Tearing her eyes away from that long stretch of skin, Adamina admitted, "Yes."

Grete smiled briefly. "Well, as much as I enjoy compliments, best not let that get out of hand, not while there's a monster to hunt." She stepped back and lowered her head. "But later, perhaps?"

Adamina rolled her eyes, own mouth quirking to match Grete's teasing smile. "Later, definitely." She let the smile linger a moment before putting her focus back on the matter at hand, slipping away from the tree and resuming her tracking of the blood trail, the faint hints of rapunzel… that were steadily growing stronger. Interesting. Troubling. "I think we are getting close to its lair." She pressed a finger to her lips and pressed on, carefully drawing her sword, free hand poised to grab, block, or draw a knife as the situation warranted.

After years of being thrown, sunk, choked, levitated, and almost drowned, she really should have expected the damned thing to drop down from the trees. But the rustle of leaves registered a heartbeat too late, and Adamina looked up just in time to be knocked to the ground by a bundle of anger, blood, and desperation.

She cried out as teeth bit into her jaw right where it met her neck, fumbled and got her fingers in the creature's hair, yanked its head far enough away to stop the damage of its too-sharp teeth. It snarled at her, mouth wet with blood and snot and spittle, eyes a vibrant, glowing violet. It tried to grab her, couldn't quite reach, spit and blood flying about as it angrily snapped its teeth.

Adamina got a leg free, slammed her knee into the creature, threw it off and rolled to her feet. She stooped to retrieve her sword and brought it up just as the creature slammed into her again. Screaming, she kicked at it and tried to bring the sword slicing up—but it twisted, caught the flat of the blade, and then they were apart again. Forest heed me. Forest heed me. In the name of the Red and the White Queens, in the name of the Woman of the Hood.

The creature came at her again, teeth and claws bared, eyes glowing bright purple as it too tried to bend the forest to its will. Adamina could feel the forest's confusion, the twisted parts of it that wanted to help the creature it had raised, the broken heart of it that wanted all set to rights.

Something shot up from the ground, and Adamina threw herself to the side, slammed into a tree, looked up just as Grete screamed her name and the creature fell on her, teeth and claws making easy work of her clothes and skin.

From the corner of her eye she could see the black-green vines that had shot up from the ground, the purple-tipped thorns that covered them: sleeping thorns, so called because the poison that filled them could put a person to sleep for anywhere from a few hours to a few days. A sufficient amount of poison would put the victim to sleep eternally. I am a Huntress, sworn to the forests with the blessing of the Woman of the Hood. Forest, you are bound to me, sworn to obey me. Obey me!

With another long, desperate scream she twisted, slammed the creature into the tree—once, twice, thrice, then dropped it to the ground, drew a knife, and drove it into the creature's throat. Adamina yanked it out and thrust it into the creature's heart.

She felt the brush of leaves against the back of her neck… and then they shuddered, stopped, slowly withdrew. Pulling the knife free, she turned and watched as the sleeping thorns withered up and broke apart on the ground. Thank the Queens. Adamina shifted so she could clean the knife—then cried out, dropped the knife to fumble at her side, which seemed to be the greatest source of pain, though now she was aware of it her entire body began to report what seemed dozens of agonies. Her arms, legs, chest, and back were all scratched and bitten; she could feel blood soaking into her clothes, hot and sticky.

Grunting, she tried to stand, but the world was yanked out from under her feet, sending her toppling back—onto something that was definitely not the ground. She blinked up at Grete, who refused to stop being blurry. "I think…"

"Stop talking," Grete said, and laid her gently on the ground. "In fact, go to sleep, Huntress, because I believed you when you said you are a terrible patient."

Laughing weakly, Adamina obediently passed out.

She woke to the smell of soup, or at least soup was her first thought. Wincing slightly, bracing her aching side with one hand, she levered herself up to one elbow and then to a sitting position. They were in a small clearing of green grass and small yellow flowers, more than a little strange for late autumn. A small fire was in the center of the camp, a pot of soup simmering away, filling the clearing with the earthy smell of potatoes and carrots, the fragrant scent of herbs that Adamina was too groggy to sort out.

Of Grete there was no sign, though her pack had served as Adamina's pillow and there was another bedroll nearby, neatly tucked away for the day.

The snap of twigs made Adamina freeze, reached for the sword that had been set next to her—but she relaxed as she saw it was her wolf. What are you doing up and about?

You were in danger, and the creature not as dead as first believed. The witch helped bring me up to finish the creature and protect you both while you healed.

She's more powerful than I thought. Adamina was more than a little in awe.

Compatible spirit, the wolf corrected.

"I see," Adamina replied. That was about as impressive as raw power. Who knew she had a magical complement all the way in the middle of nowhere? Fortunate, to say the least. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Sister Queens.

The Receiving of the Reds was the ceremony that granted a Huntress her powers and bound her forever to the forests of the queendom, after her training was complete. The binding granted the ability to control the forests to some degree, commune with the animals, granted permission to use certain blood magics, and enhanced senses and strength in order to properly protect and fight for the forests. The granted power forever changed their eyes to the familiar bright red. They were also gifted their first red tunic and cloak, and permission to wear the color red in all other aspects of their lives. Royalty wore purple, Sorcerers wore blue, Huntresses wore red; no one else in the queendom was allowed to wear the shades worn by those three.

Huntresses were also given their wolves in the ceremony. A piece of the Huntresses soul was sliced away and granted form, to assist and protect and advise. Generally only a Huntress could summon forth her own wolf, though they could also summon each other's in dire circumstances or if they shared a close bond.

For an outsider to manage it required either enormous power, or spiritual energy that was almost exactly like hers—unusual without a family bond—or complementary. So Grete was her magical complement. An ache of longing twisted sharply in Adamina's chest. So much of being a Huntress meant being alone. She had family, and most days that was enough, but she had always wanted a lover, a partner. But Grete being her magical complement did not mean anything except that. Tucking wishful thinking aside, she asked, Where is Grete?

She said she needed to hunt.

Interesting. Witches, like Huntresses, did not generally eat meat. They were far too close to nature to be able to stomach it, though there were exceptions among witches. Among Huntresses, it was taboo past dire circumstances. Grete had not struck her as an exception, so she must need the animals for something else, which meant it must tie to the creatures and the rapunzel. You seem to have recovered. I'm glad. I hope I have not worried you too much.

You were worse off after that warlock was done with you, the wolf replied, padding across the camp to lick her face before settling down beside her. The wolf's tongue lolled in approval when Adamina began to stroke fingers through her fur. Lucky for you the witch was about, or it may have turned out much worse.

Father always said I inherited mother's propensity for trouble and scaring the life out of him. She looked up at the sound of rustling, reaching out to grasp her sword again… and withdrew it as Grete came into view. "Greetings," she called out, lifting a hand.

Grete broke into a smile. "I should have known you'd wake sooner than anticipated. You really are as terrible a patient as you said."

Adamina laughed. "Did you have to sedate me? That's what my mother always did. Still would do, were I ever home for her to be the one stuck healing me."

"I did, in fact," Grete replied, and set a dead rabbit and pheasant aside before crossing over to sit beside Adamina. "Lay down, let me look you over."

"Yes, mistress."

Grete snorted softly at the playful words, gently pulling away the blanket still draped over Adamina. Bandages were wrapped low around Adamina's flat chest, padding thick over the wound along the right side of her rib cage and just curving to her side. "You're lucky these didn't go deeper." Grete pulled the bandages away, humming and clucking in a way that seemed the habit of every healer Adamina had ever met. "I had to do quite a bit to get you to heal up enough that you wouldn't be in bed for weeks, but these stiches will still need to stay in a couple more days. Sit up so I can change the bandages."

"That soup smells wonderful." Adamina slowly sat up, wincing slightly, and raised her arms to let Grete work more easily. Adamina's eyes watered at the smell of the strong ointment generously slathered on the wounds. She sighed at the new set of scars she was going to have. "It's a good thing I did not go with my first childhood ambition; I would be a veritable beast in the woods."

"What in the Great Queens are you talking about?" Grete finished smearing the ointment and picked up fresh bandages, shooting her a puzzled look before bending to her work.

Adamina's mouth quirked. "When I was little I vowed I would become a fairy and run naked through the woods all day. My mother says it was the first time she suspected I was destined to wear red, but at the time I just hated being stuffed into dresses and breeches I wasn't allowed to get dirty. I fear if I had pursued that course, I would be less a fairy and more a terror."

Grete laughed but didn't look up as she finished her work. "Maybe you're a changeling who managed to escape the clutches of the dark fairies. There, all set." She looped an arm around Adamina's back and helped her stand. "Steady?"

"Yes, thank you," Adamina said, catching Grete's arm and squeezing it. "Without you I would be dead, and my family would be receiving the terrible news over the winter festivities. I'm in your debt."

Grete smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek, lips warm and soft, the scent of sweat and smoke and herbs clinging to her. "No thanks necessary, Huntress. I'm sure the lives you've saved cannot be counted, and if those creatures had ever escaped this broken forest it would not have taken them long to come for me. I am glad I was able to summon your wolf, though, else we might both be dead right now." She drew back slightly, still close enough they shared breaths. "So I think we shall call the entire matter even?"

"Even," Adamina agreed, and leaned in to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of Grete's mouth, heart thudding until she drew back and saw the pleased curve to her lips. "Since I doubt my lovely healer will let me do what I want right now, shall we have that soup?"

"I think food is your real goal," Grete retorted, but was still smiling as she turned away to fill two tin mugs with the mouth-watering soup. Adamina sat down on an old, mossy log that had clearly been dragged into camp for that purpose, picking up the waterskin leaning against it. The water tasted faintly of what witches called purity flowers, because they could eradicate many of the contaminants in dubious water sources, though it unfortunately did not work on something as powerful as rapunzel.

She took the soup as Grete held it out, making soft noises of approval as she took slow, careful sips. "This is delicious. I couldn't make soup half this good in a royal kitchen."

"Neither could I, the royals would fuss too much about how it should taste," Grete drawled, and Adamina almost snorted her soup.

When her laughter eased off, Adamina asked, "Why did you kill the pheasant and rabbit?"

"To examine them. I tried a few living specimens, but they did not tell me much. I can get a better grasp of how far the rapunzel is spread by examining their bodies. It was unfortunate, but I hope two deaths now will save hundreds later. I think I will examine them now, unless you've further need of me?"

Adamina grinned. "Only for things you won't let me do, witch."

Rolling her eyes, Grete fetched the dead animals. She carried them to the edge of the camp and, with a long, sharp hunter's knife, went to work. She returned to Adamina with a pile of bloody organs on a handkerchief. "Look at these," she said quietly, sitting down beside her.

"Damn it," Adamina replied. The organs were all a strange purple-black, too small in size and warped in shape. They hadn't just eaten and gotten addicted to the rapunzel—they had been born infected with it, molded by it, needing it. "The forest is even more poisoned and broken than I thought. This just keeps getting worse." She stared at her half-finished soup, then set the bowl on the ground, stomach churning.

Shaking her head, Grete prodded at the organs a bit more. "I do not understand how the villagers can be unaware of the problem. They should have sent for help years ago—decades even."

Adamina frowned. "I think they are aware, actually. When I first arrived Victoria served meatless soup. That's unusual, but it does happen occasionally so I thought nothing of it… but now I wonder if the whole village avoids eating meat because all of theirs is so heavily contaminated." She wanted to beat her head against a tree. "They gave me a cool reception, and I know they delayed longer than they should have in summoning help, but I thought it was because they were one more small, superstitious village. I think now they were more afraid I would figure out they're fully aware of the problems with this forest."

Fetching her knapsack, Grete pulled out a tin jar that proved to be empty when she opened it, and a small wooden box with multiple compartments for holding various herbs. Picking three, she sprinkled them over the blackened organs, then wrapped them up a handkerchief and bundled them into the tin. Tucking it away again, she stood. "I'm going to go clean up. Try to finish your soup."

Adamina made a face but obeyed. She'd already eaten half of it, so it didn't matter much at that point, and she had no desire to be hungry sooner than necessary. Her stomach still churned with every bite, mind unable to leave off the memory of the creatures, all the terrible things that rapunzel could do to people. The royal order to burn all of it and ban it ever entering the country again had finally come after a terrible case of mass murder: a man had become so addicted that he kept marrying witches, or women who'd had their magic sealed away, and then would kill and eat them. Only because his newest wife had realized the danger before he could kill her, and managed to escape, had the matter reached the crown.

That was only ninety-odd years ago. It was the last time anyone had major dealings with rapunzel, since shortly thereafter royal soldiers had swept the queendom to burn every last trace of rapunzel and ensure more would not grow. How had they missed an entire village?

She looked up as Grete returned. "You and your mother—when you found that woman, did you destroy all the rapunzel? You must have, so how did it return?"

"We only found a few small bushes of it around the base of the tower, and those we did destroy. We had planned to report it to the crown, but got so busy looking for the children we just forgot… and then we just wanted to close the whole matter, another mistake we should not have made." She stared glumly at the grass, hair half-shrouding her face, firelight drawing out the red tones in it and bathing her in flickering light.

Adamina reached out, rested a hand on her shoulder in comfort, and when Grete seemed to lean into the touch she scooted closer and looped her arm around Grete's shoulder. "I have many stories of poor judgment and ignoring a problem until too late to my name. Who doesn't? It sounds as though you did the best you could, and I cannot say that in your shoes I would have acted differently."

"Still, perhaps if we had acted differently…"

"There is no saying for certain how events might have played out," Adamina replied. "Events could have turned out better, or much worse. What matters is that we will definitely put an end to the problem now, though I fear it may grow to be large enough a problem I will need to fetch further reinforcements."

Grete smiled faintly. "Clearly going with a local witch was not your brightest idea."

"I have no regrets," Adamina said, leaning in slightly, smiling when Grete met her halfway, lips soft and warm, fingers feather-light where they slid along Adamina's cheek before running over her close-cropped hair and cupping the back of her head. She kissed with confidence, none of the hesitancy that Adamina so often encountered from people who could not stop seeing her as a Huntress.

Adamina moved to settled across Grete's lap, sinking her fingers into all that lovely hair, catching on the rattling wooden charms. Her side flared in protest, but she stubbornly ignored it, far more interested in lapping at Grete's lips, pressing her tongue in deep to taste every bit of that warm, sweet mouth. Hands slid along her back, wrapped around her waist, pulling them flush and making Adamina moan. Far, far too long since she'd enjoyed such pleasures, and the last few had been easy met, easy parted. Grete seemed like a memory that would last, a memory that would call her back to make new ones.

She blinked when Grete drew back, pouted at the reproving look on her face. "If you tear my stitches I'll be cross with you the rest of this trip."

"Yes, ma'am," Adamina said, but stole another quick kiss before climbing off Grete's lap. "So I guess our plan is to find the rapunzel and destroy it—or at least ascertain the severity of it so I can bring in suitable reinforcements. Do you remember the location of the tower? That seems the best place to start."

Grete worried her bottom lip; Adamina looked away before she made an offer that would earn her another stern look. "I think I can find the way again. There are certain landmarks easy enough to find, and once we reach those I can find my way back to the tower." She sighed. "There are some things you can't forget even when you try."

"I know the feeling too well." Adamina gave her another quick hug, then stood up to tend the fire and make certain it would last through most of the night. Dusk was quickly falling around them. "Should we take turns on watch?"

"Not necessary," Grete replied, and lifted her hand, making the magic around them shimmer briefly into visibility; it faded out again as she lowered her hand. "It won't do more than warn us, but that should be all we need. I'm sorry I cannot do more; a Sorcerer would be far more useful right now."

Adamina shrugged. "You've no need to apologize. Without you I would be dead. Most of the time when I'm on my hunts, I spend my nights strapped in trees as high as I can climb. Being on the ground, and with an alert in place, is a luxury." She settled back down on her bedroll, tired now the thought of resting had occurred to her. The wolf woofed softly, stretched out alongside her back. "Goodnight, witch."

Grete smiled faintly. "Goodnight, my lady." Grete quickly settled into her own bedroll on the other side of the fire. Once she had gone still, Adamina let her own eyes fall shut and quickly fell sleep.

*~*~*

"It's a shame these woods are so broken," Adamina said when they stopped for a break beside a stream, gesturing to the rundown millhouse a short distance away. "That is the fourth home I have seen today, so obviously these woods thrived once upon a time. A pity we'll likely never know what turned it into the Broken Forest."

"Mmm," Grete agreed. She took a sip of water from her skin, then ate a handful of nuts—brought from her home, thankfully. Neither of them wanted to eat more of the poisoned forest than was absolutely necessary. "People love to spin rumors. Some say it was severed by the king who first created this country, long before the Great Queens saved it and made of it a worthy place. Others say it is broken because he fled here and the forest severed itself so he could not escape into the Laughing Forest and out of the queendom. The popular theory in my mother's day was that the forest itself is being punished."

Adamina's mouth quirked. "What do you think?"

"I think somebody probably did something stupid, and eventually it spiraled out of control. That is how such things most often happen." She finished off the nuts and pulled two apples from her bag, tossing one to Adamina. "Do they have different theories at the palace?"

"If so, I've never heard them," Adamina said. "But usually I work further north, in the mountains a few days travel from my home—my parents' home, really, but I'm so rarely in one place long enough for it to be worth taking rooms of my own. I have a room in the west wing that overlooks the lake and the night gardens. I used to sneak out to the gardener's cabin in the far corner of the property; he'd let me sip his wine while he told me stories, then took me back to my room when I invariably fell asleep." Her smile turned sad. "He died a few years ago, while I was far away in the mountains and nearly got buried by a damned avalanche."

Grete reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry."

Adamina smiled briefly in thanks. "Your cabin reminds me of it, actually. It was always filled with roses—that's what my father's gardens mostly consist of, he's quite fond. They're why my parents met, actually."

"They met in a rose garden? How appropriate."

Laughing, Adamina finished her apple and threw the core into the woods. "No, no. They met because my grandfather stole a rose to give to my mother, and it angered my father, scared Grandpapa to death. My mother arrived the very next day to give my father a dressing down. The rest of the story you'd have to hear from them; I could never do it justice." She took a large gulp of water, then stowed the skin. "So where are we headed next, witch?"

"Across the stream and up a steep hill. Unless my memory deceives me, we go up for quite a bit, then right back down again and through a particularly dense stretch of forest. We'll know we're on the right path when we start running into the thorns. They're huge, black, and hurt something fierce."

"Ugh, thorns," Adamina muttered as they climbed to their feet and headed down along the stream toward the abandoned mill.

There were signs that a bridge had once spanned the stream, but the bridge itself seemed long gone, the pylons crumbling and mildewed, little more than a place for birds to pause before diving after fish or darting after bugs. "I guess we're doing this the hard way." She swung her pack off her back and hefted it, eyed the far bank thoughtfully—then heaved and threw, cheering when it landed precisely where she had wanted.

Grete laughed as she handed over her own bag. "Do mine, too. If I try that it will wind up dead center of the stream."

"As you wish." Adamina threw the bag, which landed just up the bank from her own. Carrying her sword and bow so they wouldn't get wet, she waded into the water and started across. The water was cold, moving faster than she would have expected.

The stream was also filled with fish that would make a fine meal for most, except that even they were likely poisoned with rapunzel. How far had the rapunzel spread? How much land and water beyond the Broken Forest had been poisoned? The answers to those questions were probably not going to make anyone happy.

Reaching the far side, she tossed her weapons up the bank before hoisting herself up—and slipped as her hand grabbed a bundle of grass that proved to be oil-slick, sending her tumbling back into the stream, soaked and cold clear through, swept along—

And grabbed, hauled close. She came up sputtering, fumbled for a better hold, then wiped water from her face. "Ugh."

Grete laughed and helped her to her feet. "Are you all right, my lady?"

"Only my dignity suffered any harm," Adamina said with a sigh. "I will be complaining about being wet and cold the rest of the day, however." At least her cloak and tunic would dry quickly; they were made from specially treated material meant to weather through almost any rough treatment.

"We can stop and build a fire, rest for a bit while you dry. It's not healthy to stomp around in wet clothes."

Adamina shrugged. "Believe me, I've walked around in much worse condition. Dragon blood, for one. There is nothing more miserable than spending seven hours killing a dragon, only to realize at the end that you're miles from where you started, and you have no easy way back because the stupid dragon ate your horse. As if that is not enough, all the blood covering you is getting into uncomfortable places, attracting insects and scavengers, and you can't remember where you last saw water. It took three dunkings in a river and two hot baths to smell human again, and all of my clothes had to be pitched."

Grete slapped a hand over her mouth in a poor attempt to stifle giggles.

"Yes, my family thought it was quite entertaining as well." Adamina made a face, then went to wring out her clothes as best she could. When she was finally damp rather than soaked, she shrugged her pack on and settled her weapons. "Lead the way, witch. Let's see if we can reach this tower before dark, though as to that I'm not certain I want to camp there…"

"But the sooner it's over the sooner we can leave," Grete said as she settled her own pack before beginning the careful climb up a steep hill heavily covered with trees and shrubs.

They did nothing but go up for nearly two hours, though that was largely because the forest grew so dense and tangled that they had to backtrack often and find new paths. "I thought you said it grew dense later," Adamina groused when they finally stopped to rest, sitting together on a fallen tree suspended a few measures in the air because the top portion had fallen across a small, moss-covered boulder. She took a large gulp of water from the skin Grete handed her, then handed it back.

Grete took a healthy swallow of her own and let the skin rest in her lap, clutching it loosely. She brushed sweat-damp hair from where it stuck to her brow. "It wasn't this bad before. I don't know how it could have gotten so bad so fast. This sort of contamination usually takes years to spread this far, sink in this deep."

Adamina pursed her lips in thought, resting a hand on the trunk. Closing her eyes, she felt down, down into the forest. It was even more fractured here than where she had bound herself to it just outside the village. "The troubling news is that it could have spread much faster. The forest has been trying to slow the poison down, and close off the worst part, where it must have started. It's trying to save what is left, but unfortunately its efforts are in vain."

"I had no idea it was so bad. I thought this forest was just made gloomy by shadows of past deeds." Grete gazed around sadly at their surroundings, stroked the tree they sat on. "I will always regret my mother and I did not do more, that we did not realize how much more was needed."

"You did the best you could. Even we Huntresses never realized that this forest was so broken. It's not part of the Royal Forest, but still we should have sensed it. Hopefully we can bring it peace, though I fear the only peace it will find is in destroying it." The thought made her want to cry.

She startled when a hand curled around hers, squeezed gently. Adamina looked at their hands, then up at Grete, who smiled softly and reached up with her other hand to brush away the tears on Adamina's cheeks. "Is that truly all we can do now?"

Adamina shook her head. "The forest has gone mad from poison and pain. Even if we get rid of the rapunzel, the forest is too broken to recover. The best we can do is put the forest out of its misery. Doing so, however, will take more Huntresses and a few Sorcerers. For now, you and I can only destroy the rapunzel and ensure it stops attacking Edge. Once that's done, I'll see you home and then return to the royal palace for help."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Adamina said quietly. She sighed and slid to her feet, retrieved the waterskin Grete must have set on the ground at some point, put it back in her pack. Settling the pack on her back, she adjusted her cloak until it fell comfortably and looked to Grete, who stood waiting as well. "Shall we, witch?"

Grete smiled and stepped in close, curled her fingers around the back of Adamina's neck, leaned up to kiss her softly. "I do wish we were meeting under happier circumstances, my lady, but I am glad we have met." She stepped back and turned away before Adamina could reply, humming softly as they headed out.

Adamina fell into step behind her, ignoring the protests of her sore, tired body as they continued weaving, climbing, fighting their way through the woods.

They finally started going downhill after another hour or so, and not long after that they came upon the thorns. As Grete had promised, they were large, black, and painful. Adamina tripped on a snarl of vines and roots and managed to ram her palm directly on one sharp, jutting thorn. "Damn it!" Gritting her teeth against the throbbing, stabbing pain spreading through her hand, Adamina fumbled out a handkerchief from a pocket in her cloak and pressed it to the hole in her palm. "What kind of thorns are these? I thought I had seen everything, but these are new to me."

Grete shook her head. "I don't know. Likely they were something entirely harmless once, and have been warped like everything else."

Adamina sighed. She studied her wound critically, then pulled out supplies to bandage it properly. Grete took the supplies from her and set deftly to work; Adamina was more than content to let her. "At least the thorns don't appear to be poisonous. I hope." She wiggled her fingers when Grete finished. "It still feels like someone stabbed a knife through my hand, but it's easing off. Thank you."

"Of course," Grete said with a smile. "You do like to get injured, don't you?"

Adamina laughed. "No, actually, but I seem to have a knack for it anyway." She tucked the supplies back in her bag and once more stood, settling the pack into place. "Onward, and hopefully I will stop trying to get myself killed, at least through sheer clumsiness."

"Remind me to tell you about the time I accidentally locked myself in my own cellar."

"I will definitely remind you," Adamina replied, grinning. "That is a story I need to hear. Sounds like something I would do to myself I had my own house."

Returning the grin, Grete turned and headed off again. They carefully worked their way through the tangle of thorn-covered trees and shrubs, the ground half-covered with even more of them.

It was dark when they finally reached their destination. Adamina was so exhausted she could sleep for at least a month, and her stomach long ago had given up complaining of hunger.

The tower loomed before them like a patch of night with no stars. The field surrounding it was completely covered in rapunzel bushes, the smell of them dizzying, nauseating. From what little she could see, they were snarled in the black thorns. No, not snarled… they were caged by the black thorns. The forest was doing its damnedest to save itself. "That's going to be fun to deal with in the morning." She cracked a yawn, eyes watering.

Grete rested her head against Adamina's shoulder, overtaken by a huge yawn herself. "I know we have little choice, but I wish we did not have to wait until morning. Sleeping here makes me twitchy."

"We'll be all right. After all the trouble we had getting here, I refuse to let us be anything else. We will be sleeping in the trees tonight, though."

"That sounds comfortable," Grete said with a sigh that turned into another yawn. She straightened. "Which trees?"

"There," Adamina replied, pointing to one a few paces to their right. "It's got two branches big and sturdy enough, so we'll be close to each other if something does go wrong." She trudged over to it, helped Grete climb up and then followed her. "Take the higher branch, unless the height troubles you."

"Only the idea of falling gives me trouble," Grete replied as she climbed up to the indicated branch. "But I have rope for that."

Adamina smiled and waited until Grete had settled in. "All set?" Grete nodded, and Adamina swung onto her own branch. When she was as comfortable as she was going to get, she pulled off her necklace and summoned her wolf.

She appeared further down the branch, lolling her tongue before she settled at Adamina's feet. This is the most trouble you've been in since the wraiths in the Spider Wood.

Ugh, do not remind me of that. At least I was alone then. If I mess up here, I'll get Grete killed right alongside me. I should have gone to the palace for help.

Your decision made sense at the time. You like the witch.

Adamina nudged her with the tip of her boot. Are you implying I wouldn't care about the risks if I did not like her?

The wolf reached between her legs to nip at her calf right above her boot. Brat. You know very well that's not what I meant. Don't try to avoid the matter by acting dense.

Who's avoiding? She's lovely, inside and out. The interest is mutual. We'll have a grand time when this mess is over.

Nudging her leg again, the wolf replied, You don't sound yourself about that.

Adamina stifled a sigh, not wanting to draw Grete's attention. She reminds me of home, of what it's like to return home. It does not mean anything in the end, except that I have been away from home too long.

You can return home in a moment whenever you want.

I would never abuse the family power that way. Emergencies only. I could use a break, but I am not that miserable.

Yet the witch makes you think of home. Do you want her to be home?

I've known her for a matter of days, wolf. No.

You'll never know what could be if you do not try.

Adamina almost laughed, then, though it would have been a jagged, bitter sound. She had tried before, but people got tired of waiting for a woman who might be gone as briefly as a week or as long as a year. Twice Adamina had returned to notes that were weeks old, filled with accusations and apologies. One man had at least had the decency to wait to say it to her face. Eventually, Adamina had given up. Mostly, work kept her too busy to care.

Then she met someone like Grete, capable, sweet, funny, tough… and she would probably surrender to temptation in the end and try to make it something it would never really be, though that presumed Grete wanted more than a night or two of fun. Better to enjoy that night or two, and take sweet memories with her, than try for something that was doomed from the start.

Her magic complements yours, the wolf said.

That's about as relevant, in the end, as liking the same books.

I think—

"Goodnight," Adamina said firmly. Above her, Grete called a soft reply. The wolf nipped Adamina again but subsided and settled down.

Adamina listened to Grete until she went still and her breathing evened out, then finally allowed herself to sleep.

Morning came far too soon, bringing with it stiff, sore muscles and a stabbing headache. Adamina groaned, rubbed her eyes, then fumbled in the pack on her lap for something to help ease her damned headache.

"Does your head hurt as much as mine?" Grete called down.

"Yes." Adamina dumped a generous pinch of powder in her mouth, then chased it with water. "Do you have anything to take for it? I have stuff here if you need."

"I brought mine. Shall we reconvene on the ground?"

Adamina called out an affirmative, waited until her wolf leapt neatly to the ground before swiftly climbing down herself. Grete followed a few minutes later, her movements much more awkward and careful, but deft enough that with practice she would be good at it.

"I've never seen so much rapunzel," Grete said as she looked over the field, taking in the large bushes of spiny leaves and dark purple berries, all of them caged in by the heavy black thorns. The air was thick with a smell like rotted fruit and hot sugar.

Looming over everything like a dark castle was the stone tower, mostly crumbled, about as high as two people. What remained had been half-consumed by ivy and thorns; only snatches of the pale gray stone beneath were visible.

There is something inside it, the wolf said. Not alive, not dead.

"Marvelous," Adamina muttered, and explained when Grete shot her a puzzled look. "I had better go take a look. Stay here, run to the trees if something seems to change even the slightest bit.

Grete nodded. "You don't think I should come with you?"

"I'm only going to investigate; better not to drag you into more trouble than I already have." She reached out and caught Grete's hand, squeezed it briefly. "Be back soon. Wolf, get to work."

The wolf nosed at Grete's side, then padded toward the snarl of rapunzel and thorns. I do not see any way for us to get through. I think it would take burning them.

Bad idea. A fire in this place would get out of control fast, especially with a forest this broken.

Then I think it's on you.

"Damn." Sheathing the sword she had only just drawn, Adamina unwound the bandages on her left hand, drew a dagger, and then reopened the wound on her left palm and slit the palm of her right hand to match it. She knelt on the ground, set the dagger aside, then dug her hands into the grass, gripping it tight, letting her blood seep into the ground.

Closing her eyes, Adamina poured her presence and power into the forest. Forest hear me, forest heed me. I am the Huntress, here to serve and protect you. Open the thorns and let me pass. Open the thorns and let me pass.

The forest lashed back at her, dumping anger and fear on her. Adamina cried out, nearly let go—then held on more firmly, poured more power into it, fought back against the madness that wanted to break her. I am here to help. I will grant you peace. Let me pass and cut the poison out. Open the thorns and let me pass!

She cried out again when the forest obeyed, as abrupt in acceptance as it had been in refusal. Trembling, she let go of the grass and stood up—and only when Grete stepped in and gently pressed a handkerchief to her nose did Adamina realize it had started bleeding. "Thank you."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," Adamina replied, mouth quirking. "Just bleeding again; hazard of the occupation."

Grete hastily dug out supplies and treated her wounds, running her hands over the bandages fretfully when she was done. "You do have a penchant for injury."

"At least these are nothing food and rest won't fix. The forest is so broken here it does not know up from down. Stay here, be ready to run for your life."

Grete nodded. "Be careful."

"I'll try." Adamina drew her sword and followed behind her wolf down the small footpath that had been formed where the plants had pulled apart.

The plants rustled as she passed, and she didn't need to look back to know the path was closing behind her. Going to have to fight her way out, then. Marvelous. She loved fighting with injured hands.

A new smell washed over her as she reached the tower, but Adamina could not place it until she stepped through the archway and saw what was inside the tower ruins: a body. Well, it had probably been a body at one point. Much like the creatures, it had long since turned into something else.

That something appeared to be a heart for the rapunzel that grew up through the body, bright and lush and the most perfect plant Adamina had ever seen. Long vines extended out from beneath the body and spread out to cover the floor to the wall, where it grew through cracks and holes, the source of the rapunzel plants growing outside the tower. No wonder the rapunzel is so firmly entrenched in the forest. I was wrong about the madness. Well, half wrong. The forest is torn between protecting its poison heart, and closing it off to save what's left. It really doesn't know up from down.

Poor forest, the wolf replied. Be careful killing the heart; I fear the forest's retaliation.

I'm not going to kill it. This forest will snap entirely and take us down with it. I'm going to sedate it.

The only question was how. She could recall no tales of Huntresses sedating people that had turned into the poisoned, beating heart of a broken forest. Who used the life force of a human to sustain—

Great Queens, she was an idiot. Her father did something similar, on a much smaller, safer scale. The members of his family were always buried in the rose garden, and over the centuries the magic of the place and all those people combined to build a living bond between manor lord and the roses. When her father had been cursed to live as a beast, the roses had protected him until his mother had come along and figured out how to break the curse. The roses obeyed him, thrived and suffered with him.

When he had to leave the manor for an extended period, he put the roses to sleep so they would not suffer from his absence. Adamina had inherited her magical prowess from her father; it was part of what made her such a good Huntress. She was the answer to the problem; she deserved to be smacked for staring right at it but taking so long to notice. I am hopeless.

You are frayed, exhausted, hungry, overworked—

Yes, yes, all of that, Adamina cut in. Reaching into the small pouch she always wore at the small of her back, she pulled out a small velvet pouch. Undoing the knotted drawstrings, she opened it and tipped out the contents: a beautiful gold ring set with a red rose made of rubies, a single diamond dewdrop resting on the petals, and emerald leaves surrounding it.

Slipping it on her middle right finger, she crouched over the body and tore the bandages from her right hand, re-opened the wound. Grimacing, she clamped it over what remained of a pale, half-rotted arm, felt her blood seep into it. I am the Huntress, sworn to protect the forests of the Great Queens. Forest, you bound me and so I bid you obey me.

The body shuddered but did not fight. In the name of the Beast of Roses saved by the Beauty, in the name of the White Queen, the Red Queen, and the Woman of the Hood, I bid you fall into a sleep as deep as night, as heavy as winter, not to wake until I bid you rise. Be at peace, sleep well, dream of the morning to which you will soon wake.

She could feel it resisting, squirming and twisting to break her grip. Adamina held tighter, repeated every word, then began to hum the lullaby her father had sung to her nearly every night in the garden before he had carried her, fast asleep, to bed.

Bit by torturous bit the raging heart of the broken forest calmed and went still. Did it work?

At the doorway, the wolf chuffed. You shall not have to fight your way through after all, and here comes your witch.

Stop that. Adamina stood and went to the archway, sighed in relief when she saw all the plants had coiled in on themselves as though to guard against a storm or cold. Grete picked her way easily through them, smiling as she reached Adamina. "What did you do?"

"I put it to sleep. I am hoping you can do something to keep anyone else from coming along and waking it up. This way." She held out a hand, warmth curling through her body at the easy, trusting way Grete slid her own into it, and led the way back into the tower.

Grete gasped as she saw the figure, tears falling down her cheeks. "Oh, my Goddess. That's my aunt. Was my aunt." Wiping her cheeks, she strode over to the body and knelt above the head, slowly reaching out, but not quite touching. "She must have come back here at some point. I wonder if she meant for this to happen, or if something went wrong."

Adamina did not know how to say that it likely had not been her aunt's choice, that the transformation into the black heart of the forest would have been excruciating. She would have lived through the entire process, consciousness slowly merging with that of the forest. Any human part of her that might remain, and it was doubtful any did, would be so deeply buried and broken that it may as well not exist. "I would wager something went wrong. But she, and the forest, sleep for now. Can you make it so no one can undo my work, at least for a little while?"

"I can do that," Grete said with a nod. "It won't be more than that, what amounts to a wall, really, but I can do it."

"That's all I need. Thank you."

She stepped out of the way, hovering just outside the tower, wolf at her side, sword drawn—but in the end, all remained quiet as Grete methodically worked, throwing down salt and special herbs as she wove her spell. When it took, it was in a burst of green and yellow light that for a moment looked like a wall of ivy and climbing roses. Then it faded off, leaving only the faint thrum of magic. "That should do it," Grete said, brushing her hands together. "It's a two-fold spell: one part is to mislead, make whoever comes here look somewhere else, not see what is before them. The other part is a wall that requires a key, and in this case I made it a riddle key. It won't stop someone with powerful enough magic from breaking the wall down, but it will confound most everyone else."

"I hate riddle keys," Adamina said with a laugh. "Only once did I ever answer the damned riddle. Clever, witch, very clever."

Grete smiled and rejoined her, stepping in close enough it would be so easy to lean in and kiss her. "How are your hands?"

"Sore, but I'll manage." She did not protest, however, when Grete insisted on treating her right hand again. "Thank you. Shall we get out of this miserable forest?"

"Please," Grete replied. "If I never see this wretched place again I will count myself the luckiest woman on earth."

"Agreed." Retrieving her pack and settling it in place, Adamina led the way back into the dark and tangled woods.

They reached Edge Village a week later, too tired and wrung out to travel as quickly as they had going into the forest. Dusk was falling as they finally left the forest behind, and the smell of wood-smoke and roasting vegetables was most welcome.

No one was about as they walked, but that was hardly unusual. Since her arrival, Adamina had scarcely seen anyone. Superstition and fear locked doors better than any key.

It was strange, however, that when they reached the inn there was no one about except Victoria. "Quiet day?" Adamina asked.

Victoria snorted softly. "So it would seem. I've lived here sixteen years, my lady, and still sometimes this place makes no sense to me. But if the strangest thing happening right now is everyone being slow and lazy, I will count my blessings. At least you'll be left in peace, hmm? I'll fetch a couple of the stable boys to see a bath is prepared for you both. I bet you'd love a good soak after mucking about in those woods for so long. We can't thank you enough."

"I am always happy to serve," Adamina replied, biting back a whimper as a small pot of soup was set in front of them, along with bowls, bread, and a large pitcher of ale. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Victoria said. "Leave anything you want washed outside your door and I'll see it's taken care of." With a parting smile, she bustled back to the kitchen, shouting for the stable boys.

Grabbing the ladle next to the pot, Adamina dished out soup for both her and Grete, then broke two rolls into pieces and dunked them in the broth between bites of the hearty barley soup. "Not as good as your pumpkin," she said with a wink.

"I do like flattery," Grete replied, "but I am not responding to it until I've had a bath and some rest."

Adamina opened her mouth to agree, but it turned into a jaw-cracking yawn that made her eyes water. "No argument," she finally managed, though the words were mostly lost beneath Grete's giggles.

When the laughter faded, Grete took another bite of soup, then asked more seriously, "The whole village is affected by the spell you put on the forest, isn't it? They really have been poisoned by the rapunzel. We probably are too, though to a very minor degree."

"Yes, but once we leave here, a few weeks should be enough to clear the rapunzel from our bodies." Adamina grimaced, because she would be returning to Edge in less time than that, accompanied by Huntresses, Sorcerers, and probably soldiers to remove the villagers. Edge would have to be razed right alongside the forest. She was tired just thinking about it. Maybe after it was done she could finally take a month or so off, though she did not dare get her hopes up. "Thank you again for helping me. I am sorry I dragged you into a situation that proved far more treacherous than anticipated."

Grete shrugged. "It is a problem that my family helped cause, it seems only fair that I help end it once and for all. Anyway, you are the one who took all the harm. Thank you for looking after me, Huntress."

"Thank you for looking after me," Adamina said, and winked. "Once I am properly rested and do not smell like a refuse pile, I will be happy to show my appreciation."

In reply, Grete smiled, slow and a touch wicked. Anticipation thrummed through Adamina, and she put her attention back on her meal, eager to get through the night and wake rested.

When they finally trudged up to their room carrying a plate of sweetrolls that Victoria had urged on them, a large bathing tub awaited them. Steam curled up from the water, fragrant with lavender.

"Merciful Goddess," Grete said with a groan, dumping her pack and shucking out of her outer layers. "That is the finest thing I have seen in an age."

Adamina laughed. "By all means go first. I would love a bath, but I want these sweetrolls more."

Shooting her an amused look, Grete then stripped off the rest of her clothes, leaving them in a pile just outside the door.

It was hard not to steal glances, because Grete was beautiful to the point of distraction. Adamina ducked her head and put her full attention on the sweetrolls, which tasted faintly of orange and cinnamon. How had Victoria managed orange this time of year, and with Edge such a remote village? Cooking was real magic.

"I am starting to think I could never compete with sweetrolls, or food of any sort," Grete drawled.

Adamina snickered and looked up, licking sticky icing from her finger and thumb. "I promise there is no question between these and you, witch."

"That makes good hearing," Grete murmured, and sat up in the tub so that her breasts were visible, the nipples large and only slightly lighter than the rest of her skin. The freckles that dusted her cheeks also covered her shoulders and the tops of her breasts, sprinkled along her arms. Adamina wanted to kiss every single one of them. Grete kept hold of Adamina's gaze for another beat, then broke it to wash her hair and scrub at her skin.

Biting back a moan, Adamina finished the last of the sweetroll she still held, reaching down to press the heel of her hand against her cock, silently ordering it to behave. She did groan when Grete climbed from the bath and walked naked over to the bed where they'd left towels and the worn, faded sleeping gowns Victoria had given them. "You're evil, witch."

"Your turn," Grete murmured, and sat on the edge of the bed to work on her hair.

Adamina licked the last few traces of frosting away, then bent and pulled off her heavy boots. Setting them aside, she stood and removed all her weapons, then her armor. Piece by piece she removed her clothes, leaving everything in a tidy, if rank, pile. Bundling it up, she walked across the room and left them outside with Grete's clothes.

Closing and locking the door, she then strode to the bath and slipped into the still-warm water. "This feels marvelous."

"Looks marvelous too," Grete replied, grinning when Adamina shot her a look. "What? A witch gets bored and lonely in her solitary cabin, what am I to do when a pretty Huntress comes along and asks me to go adventuring? Now we are warm, fed, and this bed is comfortable. A pity you have to leave so soon."

"I'll be back," Adamina replied, and began to scrub at her skin, starting at the top and working her way down, sighing as all the sweat and grime came away, leaving her skin the smooth, black-brown it should be. She was grateful all over again that she had decided to cut her hair as close to the scalp as she could manage without actually shaving it off. It had been done from necessity after a nasty dispute with a bog goblin, but she'd become fond of it—and it was infinitely easier to clean and keep that way.

When she was finally done bathing, Adamina levered herself out of the tub and took the towel that Grete held out—and oofed slightly when she abruptly had a witch twined around her, a mouth on hers, firm and eager.

Adamina was more than happy to comply, exhaustion momentarily banked by food, the bath, and the rush that always came after surviving a dangerous assignment. Abandoning the towel to the floor, she wrapped her arms around Grete's waist and hauled her in close, making a soft, rough noise at the feel of Grete's breasts pressed against her chest.

Fingers raked gently over her scalp, teased across the back of her neck. Adamina lapped at Grete's lips, enjoying the taste of beer and barley that lingered in her mouth, the earthiness beneath that seemed to be all Grete. She fanned her hands over the soft, warm curves of Grete's back, thumbs running along her sides, slid down to tease over her ass.

Grete returned the teasing laps with a firm bite to Adamina's bottom lip, then broke away to kiss her jaw, down her throat, hands moving so she could do some ass-grabbing of her own. "Bed."

"Yes, my lady," Adamina murmured, and drew back to lead her to the bed, laughing when Grete pushed her down on it and straddled her thighs. Shifting to rest against the wall at the head of the bed, Adamina ran her hands up Grete's thighs, enjoying the way the muscles bunched, squeezing her own thighs slightly. Sliding her hands up Grete's ample hips, she squeezed, dug her fingers in slightly, enjoying the simple pleasure of being able to touch, savor, another person. "You're beautiful."

"You are sweet, always giving compliments. I do enjoy women who like complimenting me," Grete replied with a smile, then wrapped her arms around Adamina's neck, drew her in for a hard, wet, moan-inducing kiss, rubbing their bodies together, making Adamina shiver. Drawing back slightly, Adamina loosed one hand. It vanished a moment, then returned, cool and slippery, between their bodies to wrap around Adamina's cock, stroking it teasingly.

Adamina shuddered, gasped. "Long time since someone else has done that." She groaned, head falling back to thunk against the wall. "I'd nearly forgotten how good it felt."

"Well, that's just a shame," Grete replied. "Though I sympathize."

Grinning, Adamina opened her eyes and looked at Grete. "Oh, yeah?" Grabbing her more firmly, Adamina surged forward, pushing Grete down onto the bed, spread her legs wide. She spied the little bottle of lubricant, pleased and amused that Grete had thought to bring such along, and poured a measure into her palm. Grete squirmed beneath her, but made no effort to really get away.

Adamina ran slick fingers lightly down her throat, then teasingly around her nipples, enjoying the way they reacted to her touch, the delicious little shivers and gasps her touch provoked. She bent to chase the touches with her mouth, licking, nipping, and kissing until Grete was gripping the sheets, writhing against them, sweat gleaming on her skin.

Dipping lower, Adamina spread Grete's legs further apart and put her tongue to work, thrusting it deep inside Grete's wet heat, enjoying the smell and taste of her, the way Grete moaned and thrust back into her movements, the way her nails scraped over Adamina's scalp. Best of all was the way she trembled and screamed when she finally came apart, lay panting and boneless as she slowly calmed.

Adamina's cock was so hard it hurt, and she reared back to rest on her heels and admire the view of a pliant, sated Grete while she stroked herself. Grete made a soft noise, levered herself up and pushed Adamina all the way down to sit properly, replaced Adamina's hand with her own, stroking hard, leaning in to give a wet, hungry kiss. Adamina held her close, fed at her mouth, muffled her shout against those sweet, addictive lips as she finally came.

It was her turn to lay dazed on the bed, exhaustion returning twice as strong. She grunted as Grete nudged her over, forced herself to move enough to clean up and hang their robes over the foot of the bed, then snuffed the candle and climbed beneath the warm blankets.

Grete moved closer to her, wrapped loosely around her. Adamina froze, briefly startled, but then it was all too easy to melt into the sleepy embrace. She had forgotten the simple pleasure of sleeping with another, the comfort of it. Listening to the sound of Grete's even breathing, enjoying the smell of them that still filled the room, Adamina slid easily into sleep, smiling faintly.

She was jerked away by the sound of screaming, throwing herself out of bed and lunging for her sword before her mind entirely processed what was happening.

People in the room. They had Grete. Sound of movement behind—

Adamina cried out as something slammed into her head, knocking her to the ground, sending her sword clattering away. She was grabbed, hauled to her feet, hands bound behind her with rough rope. Dazed from pain, she could only stumble along as they hauled her out of the room and out into the streets.

An enormous bonfire had been erected in the village circle. Something—someone—was laying on the ground before it. As they drew closer and her head started to clear a bit, Adamina saw it was Victoria.

The people holding her threw her to the ground, heavy hands forcing her to stay on her knees. Next to her, the same was done with Grete. A figure wrapped in shadows stepped in front of them, face further hidden by the flames at their back. Striding up to them, the figure reached out and yanked the necklace from Adamina's neck. Damn.

She snarled in fury as the bastard threw it in the flames, stabbing, slicing pain tearing through her as the necklace was destroyed. Tears flooded her eyes, streamed down her cheeks. "You'll pay for that, you coward."

"Not before you pay for destroying the Sacred Forest," the figure replied, voice low, rough, as though ruined by smoke. "The Sacred Forest requires the life of the Huntress and the witch in order to recover its strength."

Grete stirred and tried to speak, but the shadowed figure backhanded her.

Enough was enough. "Let us go." She grunted when she was backhanded in her turn. "I can break the spell if that's what you want."

"Not good enough. You should have killed the creatures and left."

"You should have brought this to the attention of the crowns long ago," Adamina retorted. "But you didn't because you're not all just poisoned by the rapunzel—you're enthralled. What did you do, sacrifice a person here and there, mostly travelers, to keep those poor, broken, twisted children appeased? Did they finally have enough and start hunting for themselves?"

The figure backhanded her again. "Shut up."

Adamina spat on the ground, bared her teeth in a bloody smile, and chanted, "Rosehaven, hear my distress. Send the Beast of Roses to my aid."

She cried out in pain as she was hauled to her feet, a rough hand wrapped around her neck, nails digging in painfully as she was dragged toward the bonfire. So they were to be burned alive, then, and their ashes scattered to the wood. How archaic.

A long howl cut through the night, making everyone stop. Pity she had not been able to focus the spell well enough to bring him right into their midst. At least it had worked.

The howl was followed by the sound of something running—something large and heavy. It snorted, snuffled, the mists of its hot breath visible in the moment before it stepped into the light of the flames.

The villagers screamed, the ones holding her letting go to draw swords. They gathered into a cluster, which was monumentally stupid if they hoped to use those swords, but what did she care?

The figure prowling toward them seemed to be cat, wolf, and bear all at once, a looming, hulking mass of muscle and fur. It had a long snout, plenty of sharp teeth as it opened its mouth to roar. It stood on two legs, but dropped easily to four, hot, misting breaths pouring from its mouth, eyes gleaming a brilliant leaf green.

Adamina stood up, ignoring the awful cold quickly freezing her naked body. "Leave them to rot, papa. Just take me, Grete, and Victoria home."

"Your father will keep them back while we do that," said a soft, easy voice, and Adamina smiled as her mother slipped out of the shadows, wearing a dark green habit and brown cloak. She strode up to them, cut Adamina free, then Grete, before stooping to help Victoria, groggy and shaky, to her feet. Holding them all close, she whispered the familiar words that always carried their family safely home to Rosehaven, one more part of the powerful magic that ran through her father's bloodline.

Adamina shivered as they stood in the entryway of the manor, biting back an urge to laugh as she stared at the paintings and sconces and mirrors that she had not seen in so long. Dizziness and exhaustion swept over her, and she barely had time to feel the heavy cloak that dropped over her shoulders before she passed out in her father's arms.

*~*~*

Three months. Three months, six days, and if she ever heard the words Edge Village again, she would go mad and find a cave to live in the rest of her life. She'd had it.

And she would not be nearly as bitter about it all if she had not finally finished up with the whole debacle and gone to see Grete… only to find her cabin boarded up and the grass months overgrown. The last time Adamina had seen Grete had been in her own bed, fast asleep from the sleeping draught Adamina's mother had given her, the stitches on her face and her arm lurid against her beautiful skin.

Adamina had never hated anything as much as she hated leaving Grete while she went to summon suitable forces to put Edge and the Broken Forest down once and for all. By the end, most of the villagers had died in the fighting, or been lost forever to the woods the Red Queen herself had ordered burned while she supervised. Those few villagers who remained were recovering elsewhere, though whether or not they would manage it, Adamina did not know.

Nor did she honestly care, not after the bastards had tried to kill her, Grete, and Victoria, whose only crime was being an outsider finally more convenient as a kill than as an innkeeper who unwittingly drew suitable victims. At least she seemed to be slowly recovering in the royal city.

The only thing Adamina wanted was to be home. Well, she wanted to see Grete again, but Adamina could hardly blame her for deciding that what she wanted was to be somewhere else. Hopefully Grete was all right, that was all that really mattered.

Her spirits lifted slightly as she rounded the bend and her family's home came into view: Rosehaven Manor, so named for the profusion of roses that covered most of the estate, right up to and spilling through the iron fence that wrapped around it.

The actual rose garden was even worse, though the unique roses her father grew drew hundreds of visitors every year. Rarely was the house lacking guests.

A chilly, snow-laced wind urged her on, and the gates parted as she reached them, closing again once she was safely inside. Leta, one of the stable servants, came rushing out to meet her. "Welcome home, Lady Mina."

"Thank you," Adamina replied, giving her a quick hug before hastening into the house, where another servant came bustling forward to strip away her snow-caked cloak, scarf, and gloves.

Kneeling, he helped her out of her boots and into warm house shoes. "Your parents are in the yellow drawing room, I cannot say where the others have scattered."

"If they're smart, they're all snuggled warm in bed. Thank you, Cory."

"Milady," he said with a smile, and walked off carrying her things to see it was all dried and put away properly.

Adamina followed the sound of laughter to the yellow drawing room, her parents' favorite room in the house. True to its name, it had warm yellow walls and carpeting, accents of brown, white, and green, and the whole place smelled of old books and honeysuckle. Her father sat at a piano, playing in snatches frequently interrupted to chat with her mother, who rattled on a mile a minute as she discussed work, friends, and whatever latest gossip was running about the city half an hour away where her offices were located. During the busier months, they moved to their townhouse, but in the dead of winter everything fell into a lull and they retired to Rosehaven.

Her mother froze midsentence. "Mina!" Tossing aside the papers she was holding, she bolted across the room and hugged Adamina tightly. "We have been fretting as to where you were. I did not expect matters to take so long! Are you home for a time, now?" She didn't wait for an answer, just hugged her again. "I'll have tea brought at once. Food? Look who I'm asking." She rolled her eyes at herself and departed, never very good at holding still and waiting for people to come to her.

A soft chuckle drew Adamina's attention to her father, large and looming, but still the quietest, gentlest man Adamina had ever known. She knew the stories of the days when he'd had an uncontrollable temper, but she'd never seen it save when his wife or children were threatened. He hugged her tightly. "It's good to see you looking healthy again," he said gruffly. "You and your mother are determined to see who can put me in the grave first."

Laughing, Adamina leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Now, Papa, we both know the answer is Mama."

"Probably," he said with a sigh. "How are you? It seems as though something still troubles you."

Adamina shook her head. "Nothing, Papa. I'm just exhausted. It's good to be home, and I don't have to go anywhere for six months."

"How did you manage such a long hiatus?" her mother asked as she strode back into the room, thrust a plate of sliced vegetables, cheese, and warm, buttered bread into Adamina's hands. "Eat, eat. Charmian, why in the world have you not poured your daughter a glass of wine?"

"My apologies, Bella," Charmian said with a grin. "I thought she'd want to drink the tea first."

Huffing and shaking her head at herself, Bella kissed Adamina's cheeks and returned to her seat, gathering up the voluminous skirts of her brown and gold dress, settling them comfortably about her after she'd sat. "So will you be here your entire six months' respite? Normally I would give you two weeks before restlessness compelled you to do something else, but I think under the circumstances you may actually stay a bit…"

"Edge Village was exhausting, but I don't think it was that exhausting, Mama," Adamina replied, taking a nearby seat and making quick work of the food. Goddess, she could not wait to start eating Laura's cooking again. Her father employed the best chef in the queendom, Adamina would bet her inheritance on it.

Her parents exchanged a look. Adamina frowned. "She must not know," Charmian said.

"Know what?" Adamina asked, narrowing her eyes at them.

"You tell her, Bella."

Beaming, Bella took a sip of the dark wine at her elbow, then said, "Why, we have acquired a witch. She's taken up residence in the gardener's cottage—" The words cut off as her parents laughed, but Adamina barely heard it, having bolted from the room the moment she realized what they were saying.

Rushing through the house, she slipped out the doors at the back of the conservatory and through the snow-covered garden to the little cottage tucked away in the corner of the estate. Smoke curled from the chimney, and warm, yellow-orange light glowed through the large lattice window that fronted it.

Curling her fingers around the new bone necklace at her throat, still strange even as it was comforting, Adamina knocked on the door.

It swung open just as she was beginning to fret, spilling out warmth, the smell of roasting vegetables, and a familiar smile on a sorely missed face. "Hello, Huntress."

"Witch," Adamina greeted, aching to reach out and touch, pull her in close. Instead, she swallowed and tried to remember more words. "I—I thought you were gone. I went to your cottage."

"Too close to bad memories for me," Grete replied, then reached out and tugged her inside, walking backwards until they were both in. Adamina shut the door. "I helped out with a few things here while I was recovering, locals in the area needing charms and tinctures." Her mouth tipped up at one corner, and she looked up playfully through her lashes as she said, "Sold quite a bit of my jam, too. Your mother invited me to stay on. I suspect ulterior motives. She's really quite as ruthless as the rumors say." She smacked Adamina's chest playfully. "Here I am, 'my aunt is the Mad Witch', and you've got the Beast of Roses and the Merchant Queen for parents." She jabbed Adamina's stomach with one finger. "You're a brat."

"Maybe a little bit," Adamina replied, and curled her fingers around Grete's wrist, pulled her close, thrumming with warmth when Grete left her arm to lazily drape around Adamina's neck. "I thought you were gone," Adamina said softly, lightly resting her hands on Grete's hips.

Grete scoffed. "After all that trouble, I am owed at least one hundred compliments—one hundred twenty-five with interest—and I mean to collect."

"I see you've been spending a lot of time with my mother." Adamina's smile widened into a grin. "I'm sure she adores having someone so smart and clever to spend time with."

"One hundred and twenty-four left," Grete replied, and pulled her down into a kiss that felt like home.

FIN

About the Author

Megan is a long time resident of m/m fiction, and keeps herself busy reading, writing, and publishing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. When she's not involved in writing, she likes to cook, harass her cats, or watch movies (especially all things James Bond). She loves to hear from readers, and can be found all around the internet.

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