Moonlight hung over Lily's lake, casting a pale silver glow across the ruined garden. Smoke curled from the cabin chimney, carrying with it the smell of burning wood, roasted vegetables, and stolen food.
Inside, the four men sat around the fireplace and feasted like thieves celebrating a successful raid.
After two days of following Lily through the forest with little food and almost no coin to spare, they had discovered a banquet beyond anything ordinary peasants could imagine. Lily's strawberries were larger than a man's fist, her raspberries swollen with sweetness, and even the wild blueberries burst with rich juice. There were cabbages, herbs, roots, mushrooms, and strange forest plants made healthier and more nourishing by the light-heart that had fed the soil for years.
To the starving men, it tasted heavenly.
The fat man ate without restraint, stuffing berries into his mouth by the handful and tearing leaves from an enormous cabbage as though he feared someone might steal it from him.
The broad, bearded man ate more steadily. He sampled everything, flexing one thick arm occasionally as if he could already feel the unnatural food restoring his strength.
The short man barely touched his share. Instead, he examined the produce carefully, turning berries and leaves between his fingers while discussing prices, merchants, and possible buyers.
The tall archer sat beside him, his wounded arm wrapped in dirty cloth while his narrow face remained fixed in thought.
Their original plan had been simple: discover Lily's family, demand a ransom, then betray them and sell her anyway to the slaver's. But Lily claimed she did not know where her parents were—or whether they were even alive.
That left them with other possibilities.
Selling her would bring good coin, but the garden might be worth even more. If Lily's magic had produced such enormous fruit and vegetables, perhaps they could force her to grow them elsewhere. Her healing, music, and unusual appearance only increased her value.
They discussed these plans openly, as though Lily were not sitting nearby.
To them, she was not a child. She was an investment to be exploited and, once she had outlived her usefulness, sold to the highest bidder.
Wrapped tightly in Art's black cloak which had been given back to her by the fat man, Lily listened to them from the darkest corner of the ruined cabin. Hatred burned in her violet eyes, but beneath it lay something stronger.
Terror.
A thick rope passed through the metal ring at the front of her collar, then stretched across the broken floorboards to the branding iron. The rope had been tied securely around its handle, and the iron itself had been driven into a gap in the damaged floor several paces away.
It left Lily enough room to sit or lie down in the far back corner, but not enough to reach the doorway.
Her entire body hurt.
Her left eye had swollen from the archer's blows. Her ribs ached where one of the men had kicked her, and every breath pulled painfully through her chest. Her shoulder throbbed around the arrow wound, now burned shut at the front beneath the first star-shaped brand, while a second had closed the wound at her back.
She felt exhausted in every possible way—physically, emotionally, and somewhere deeper that she could not properly name.
Art had defeated and humiliated her before. He had restrained her, thrown her into the lake, and proven that she was nowhere near as strong as she imagined herself to be. Yet when Lily looked back on that fight, she realized she had never truly believed he would seriously harm her.
Art had never struck her in anger. Even at her most helpless, some quiet part of her had known that she was safe.
These men were different.
They had shot her, beaten her, burned her, and placed a collar around her neck. They could lift her as easily as a sack of grain, drag her wherever they wished, or punish her the moment she resisted. She knew they intended to sell her, but she had no idea what they might do before then.
They might beat her or burn her again. And if she caused too much trouble, they might decide she was no longer worth keeping alive.
That uncertainty terrified her more than any single threat.
Still, in defiance Lily kept glancing toward the branding iron.
She could see the knot from where she sat. Whenever the men turned their backs, she imagined crawling forward, loosening the rope, and slipping through the doorway before anyone noticed. Perhaps she could wait until they fell asleep. The distance was short after all.
With patience and luck, she might escape.
Yet each time she prepared herself to move, the painful memories returned, and with them her courage collapsed.
If they caught her trying to run again, they would hurt her.
Lily did not want to feel that pain again. So she remained in the corner, trembling beneath the cloak and barely daring to breathe loudly enough to be heard.
Still, not everything had been taken from her.
The fat man had after all returned Art's cloak and even both of her leather pouches. One contained several berries from her garden; the other held enough lake water to keep her from going thirsty. He had taken the single copper coin she had earned in Einsway, however, claiming it as payment for his generosity.
Her mother's rusty knife had not been returned. It remained embedded in the far wall where the archer had hurled it in anger, its blade slightly bent and hopelessly beyond her reach.
Even so, Lily clung to what little hope remained.
She had food. She had water. She still had Art's cloak. Perhaps the fat man possessed some small measure of mercy. Perhaps not all four men were as cruel as the archer. And perhaps, if she stayed quiet and waited patiently, a chance to escape would eventually present itself.
Holding tightly to that thought, Lily ate the berries one at a time. Whenever one of the men glanced toward her and smirked, a chill passed through her body, but she forced herself not to react.
They laughed openly about their "little witch," calling her the miracle that would make them rich and buy them lives of comfort and luxury.
Lily lowered her eyes and pretended not to understand.
Beneath her skin, the light-heart pulsed faintly. It was already trying to mend the damage. Left alone, it would gradually close the wounds and soften the scars, though injuries this severe might take months—or perhaps years—to disappear completely.
She could accelerate the healing.
If she concentrated, she could gather the light around her shoulder and ribs, strengthen her body, and perhaps recover enough to run.
But she did not dare reveal how powerful the gift truly was.
If the men discovered that Lily could heal serious injuries, her value would rise even further—and her chances of ever escaping might disappear entirely.
So Lily kept the light-heart quiet.
She endured the pain and allowed the men to believe she was completely broken.
Eventually, the stolen feast came to an end.
The men stretched out around the fireplace with their weapons close at hand. The fat man fell asleep first, snoring loudly upon the floor. The broad, bearded man settled near the doorway, while the short man rested with his back against the wall.
The archer remained awake longest. While from time to time, his half-closed eyes shifted toward Lily. Until at last, his breathing deepened.
All four men slept without setting a watch. They did not fear Lily. They did not believe she possessed enough courage to attempt running again.
To Lily's shame, they were right.
She remained curled in the corner long after the cabin had fallen silent, terrified that the slightest movement might wake the archer and bring his anger down upon her again.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth.
An owl called somewhere beyond the broken walls.
Only then did Lily carefully lower herself onto her right side, keeping her wounded shoulder away from the floor. With one hand tucked beneath her head and Art's cloak tightly around her trembling body, she pressed her back against the wall, and continued watching the sleeping men until exhaustion slowly dragged her eyes closed into an uneasy sleep. Her breathing gradually softened.
Then came the scratching.
At first, the faint sound blended with the crackling wood and the wind brushing through the broken walls. Lily shifted beneath the cloak, half dreaming that something was digging beneath her under the floor.
The scratching continued, wood creaked. Tiny teeth gnawed steadily against something close behind her.
Lily's eyes opened.
For several frightened heartbeats, she remained perfectly still. The four brothers were asleep around the fireplace. The fat man snored loudly, while the others breathed with the slow heaviness of men who had eaten too much.
Another scrape came from beneath the broken floorboards.
Lily carefully turned her head.
A tiny nose appeared through a narrow gap near the back wall, close to where she once kept her clay storage pots. The pots now lay shattered across the floor, but Lily remembered that corner well. Rats had broken into it countless times over the years, forcing her to block tunnels, repair holes, and establish increasingly severe laws against unauthorized food theft.
Now one of those old tunnels was being opened again.
A small gray mouse squeezed through the gap, then another. A third followed close behind.
The three mice hurried across the floor, disappeared beneath Art's cloak, and climbed over Lily's side. Their tiny claws tickled against her clothes as they reached the rope threaded through the iron ring of her collar.
Then they began gnawing, while Lily stared down at them in disbelief.
More movement came from beneath the floor. Rats and mice crowded inside the old tunnel, their bodies shifting in the darkness as they tore at the damaged boards. Farther back, another group appeared to be widening an opening through the cabin's rear wall. They were building an escape route.
Her citizens had come to rescue her.
The realization filled Lily with such sudden hope that tears stung her eyes.
She lifted the edge of the cloak slightly, hiding the three mice while they worked. Their teeth made a faint, steady scraping sound against the rope, but the cabin was far from silent. The fire snapped and crackled. Wind moved through the trees outside, making branches brush against the roof.
Somewhere beyond the broken garden, an owl called loudly.
"Hoo. Hoo-hoo."
The sound came again moments later.
Lily glanced toward the doorway.
Was the owl helping too?
She had never granted owls citizenship. In fact, they had eaten several citizens over the years and were currently listed as suspicious foreign powers. Still, its calls conveniently covered the sound of the rodents chewing through the floor.
Perhaps this was an unofficial alliance.
Near the widening hole, a large black rat rose onto his hind legs. Lily recognized him immediately. He was older and heavier than most rats, with one torn ear, several scars across his snout, and an expression of permanent criminal confidence. Lily had caught him more than once escaping from the cabin while carrying food against his chest like a tiny burglar. Once, he had fled on two legs with an entire strawberry nearly as large as his body.
Ratbag the Bold.
Professional thief, repeated violator of the Garden Food Act, and leader of the Blackroot Mushroom Warrens—the rat clan occupying the underground gardens closest to the lake.
Ratbag gave several sharp squeaks and pointed his nose toward a weakened board. Three rats immediately attacked it from below.
Beside him stood a small white mouse.
Her spotless fur seemed almost luminous in the darkness, and she carried herself with the grave dignity of someone accustomed to being obeyed. Lily recognized her as Princess Snow, one of New Town's most respected mouse leaders.
Princess Snow chirped quietly.
The mice shifted position and began clearing loose splinters away from the opening while Ratbag's larger rats continued tearing through the wood.
Lily blinked.
Rats and mice were working together.
The Blackroot Warrens had apparently formed an emergency alliance with New Town.
Either that, or Ratbag and Princess Snow had secretly married while Lily was away.
The two leaders stood side by side, exchanging little squeaks and nods before directing their followers with surprising coordination.
Lily's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
A political marriage. Very suspicious.
There would be time for an official investigation later. For now, she remained silent and allowed them to work.
The three mice beneath her cloak continued weakening the rope. Behind her, the growing hole beneath the wall was already large enough for several rats to pass through at once. Soon, it might be wide enough for Lily to crawl beneath the cabin and escape into the forest.
She could hardly believe it.
These were the same rodents she had chased with her makeshift broom, threatened with chickens, and accused of crimes against national grain reserves. She had blocked their tunnels and forbidden them from entering the cabin without permission.
Now they were breaking every one of those laws to save her.
Warmth filled Lily's chest.
"Good citizens," she whispered so softly that even she could barely hear it.
Ratbag glanced up at her and gave a proud little squeak.
Then a twig snapped outside, and every rodent froze.
Lily's faint sense of danger prickled at the back of her head.
The owl fell silent.
Bushes rustled beyond the ruined garden. Careful footsteps moved between the trees, drawing closer to the cabin.
Lily's heart began pounding.
Perhaps Scar and the foxes were preparing an attack.
She hoped not. Four armed men were dangerous even while sleeping, and Lily had already seen what happened when Scar tried to fight them directly.
The footsteps reached the clearing.
Ratbag disappeared beneath the floor. Princess Snow followed, and the mice beneath Lily's cloak abandoned the rope and darted back into the tunnel. Within seconds, the entire rescue force had withdrawn, leaving only dozens of small eyes watching from the darkness below.
Then a figure appeared in the broken doorway.
Lily stared.
For a moment, she thought the pain and exhaustion had finally broken her mind.
The newcomer wore a dark green hood and practical hunting clothes. A short bow rested in one hand, a quiver hung at his hip, and a hunting knife was tied securely to his belt.
The firelight revealed a familiar young face.
"Robin?" Lily whispered.
The hunter's son smiled, as he raised one finger to his lips.
"Shh."
Lily's mouth fell open.
Of all the people she had imagined coming to her rescue, Robin had not been among them.
Where was his father?
Where were the village guards?
Had this foolish boy truly followed four armed criminals into the forest alone?
Robin stepped carefully into the cabin.
Lily immediately shook her head.
No. No, no, no. Terrible plan. Go away.
She waved urgently with her one good hand.
Robin smiled and waved back.
Lily stared at him in disbelief.
I am not greeting you, idiot!
He continued forward, causing the first floorboard to immediately creak beneath his foot.
Robin froze.
The brothers remained asleep.
He took another step and another board groaned.
Lily's panic grew with every movement. The rodents had nearly created a silent route beneath the floor, but Robin was walking directly through the center of the cabin like an inexperienced burglar in boots.
Still, somehow, he reached the branding iron.
He crouched beside it and extended one hand toward the rope.
Just then the tall archer shifted near the fire.
"Do not try anything, girl," he muttered without opening his eyes. "I hear better than a fox and see sharper than a hawk. Move again, and you will discover how patient I am not."
Robin stopped.
Lily stopped.
Even the fire seemed to quiet.
The archer remained still for several moments, apparently expecting Lily to retreat into her corner.
She did not answer.
Slowly, one of his eyes opened, and his gaze moved toward Lily. She sat exactly where he had left her, wrapped in the black cloak and staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.
Confusion crossed his face.
Then he noticed the hooded boy crouching beside the branding iron.
The archer blinked.
His eyes returned briefly to Lily.
Then back to Robin.
"Who," he asked slowly, "are you?"
Robin's expression briefly revealed that his plan had gone terribly wrong.
Then he drew an arrow and aimed it at the archer.
"Do not move," he warned. His young voice trembled, but he kept the arrow steady. "I only want the girl. Let her go, and nobody gets hurt."
The commotion awakened the other brothers. The fat man stirred with a confused grunt, while the short man and the broad, muscular one slowly rose around the fire.
Lily shook her head urgently.
"Robin, leave! You cannot fight them!"
His eyes flicked toward her.
"I have this."
He did not have this.
The brothers began spreading out, weapons ready but expressions almost amused.
"Stay back!" Robin shouted. "I am the second-best hunter in Einsway—after my father!"
The men stared at him. Then the archer almost laughed.
"The second-best hunter in one little village," he said. "How terrifying."
Robin's face reddened, but he kept the bow raised.
The short man's hand drifted toward a dagger.
"Do not," Robin warned.
The man drew and threw in one smooth motion.
Robin twisted aside as the knife flashed past him and struck the wall. At the same instant, he released the bowstring.
The arrow flew and struck the short man high in the chest. He cried out and collapsed beside the fire.
After that the remaining three charged.
Robin dropped the bow and drew his hunting knife. He slashed toward the archer, forcing him back, then turned as the fat man approached from the side.
That moment of distraction was enough.
The muscular brother closed the distance, caught Robin's knife wrist, and drove a heavy fist into his face.
Robin struck the wall and crumpled to the floor.
The entire fight had lasted only seconds.
The archer kicked Robin's knife away while the muscular man dragged him upright. Meanwhile, the fat brother hurried to the wounded man and seized the arrow shaft.
"Hold still."
He yanked it free, and the short man screamed, as the wooden shaft came away without its metal point.
The fat man stared at the broken end in alarm.
"Brothers—the arrowhead is still inside."
The archer's amusement vanished. He drew his dagger and turned toward the barely conscious Robin.
"Then the hunter's boy dies."
"No!" Lily cried.
The archer stopped.
Lily forced herself upright despite the pain in her shoulder and ribs.
"I can help your brother," she said. "I get arrowhead out. Clean wound. But you let Robin live."
The men exchanged uncertain looks. The wounded brother had already begun turning pale, and none of them appeared to know what to do.
Finally, the archer lowered his dagger.
"Save him, then."
He loosened Lily's rope from the branding iron but kept the other end wrapped around his fist. She crossed the cabin slowly and knelt beside the wounded man.
The arrowhead was lodged shallowly beneath the torn skin near his upper chest. Lily could see part of the metal, but there was little room to grasp it.
"Hold him still," she ordered.
The fat man pinned his brother's shoulders while the muscular one held his arm.
"This will hurt," Lily warned.
"It already hurts!"
"This hurt more."
Using her one good hand, Lily carefully pressed around the wound until she could catch the exposed edges of the arrowhead between her small fingers.
The man cursed and tried to twist away.
"Stop moving," she snapped. "You make it worse."
He went rigid.
Before pulling, Lily reached inward for her light-heart. A thin thread of white warmth gathered beneath her fingertips and touched the wounded man.
Then it suddenly stopped. The light would not enter him. It felt as though something inside his body rejected the connection before it could form.
Lily's eyes widened, but she hid her confusion.
There was no time to understand why.
She tightened her fingers and drew the arrowhead out in one steady pull.
The wounded man screamed, but the arrowhead came free.
"Water," Lily said. "From the lake. And cloth."
The archer tossed her water pouch across the floor. Lily rinsed the wound carefully, washing away the blood and checking for splinters from the broken shaft.
There was nothing in the cabin she would have called clean—except Art's cloak.
Lily hesitated, then reluctantly allowed the archer to cut a long strip from its lower edge.
Sorry, Art.
She folded the cloth over the wound and bound it firmly around the man's chest.
"That all I can do," she said. "Keep it clean and hope no fever comes."
The short man groaned but remained conscious.
Lily turned toward the archer.
"I helped him. Now let Robin go. He is only foolish boy. He does not know what he doing."
The archer raised an eyebrow.
"Not happening. He has seen our faces. He knows where we are, and he knows we took you. The moment he returns to Einsway, his father will bring hunters and guards."
Robin struggled weakly in the muscular man's grip.
"My father will find you."
"Exactly," the archer replied.
He crossed to their belongings and removed another black leather collar.
Lily's stomach dropped.
"No. You said you not kill him."
"And I will keep that promise." The archer turned the collar in his hands. "He either dies or comes with us. Since you saved my brother, I will grant him that mercy."
Robin's face paled, as the men then forced him to the floor.
What followed happened quickly. They held him still, heated the iron again, and marked his shoulder while Lily pleaded with them to stop. Robin tried to remain silent at first, but his cries soon echoed through the ruined cabin and into the forest beyond.
When it was over, a collar rested around his neck.
His weapons, coins, and remaining arrows belonged to the brothers.
Lily caught Robin as the men shoved him into the corner beside her. She carefully lowered his head into her lap and ran her good hand through his hair.
"You complete idiot," she whispered fiercely. "What were you thinking? That was so stupid."
The brothers laughed from beside the fire.
Lily glared at them, then looked back down at Robin. His lip was split, one eye was beginning to swell, and pain still trembled through him despite the weak smile he offered her.
"I heard them questioning the gate guards," he murmured. "They were asking which way you had gone. Something felt wrong, so I followed them."
"Alone."
"I may not have planned that part very well."
"You planned nothing."
"My father always says it is better to act quickly when danger comes than waste time thinking until it is too late."
Lily placed her palm against her forehead.
"Next time, think more. Act less."
Robin's smile widened faintly.
"But I was worried about you."
Her anger softened despite herself. His rescue had been foolish beyond belief, but he had followed four armed men into the forest because he thought she was in danger.
Near the fireplace, the brothers settled down again. The fat man remained beside the wounded short man, while the others spoke quietly about leaving at first light. Robin would soon be missed, and once his father began searching, hunters and guards from Einsway might follow. They could not risk remaining at the lake.
A faint chittering came from behind Lily.
Ratbag and Princess Snow watched through the small opening beneath the broken floorboards. The hole was not yet wide enough for Lily to crawl through, but the rodents were waiting, ready to continue their work.
For a moment, Lily considered it.
Perhaps they could finish the tunnel. Perhaps she and Robin could somehow slip away before sunrise.
Then Robin shifted painfully in her lap.
The attempt would be slow, dangerous, and nearly impossible with both of them injured and tied. If Lily escaped alone, the brothers might punish Robin—or kill him once she was no longer there to plead for his life.
She had already caused enough suffering.
Lily met Ratbag's eyes and gave a small shake of her head.
The old black rat looked toward Princess Snow. The white mouse released a mournful squeak, and after a moment, both leaders withdrew. The other rodents followed them into the darkness beneath the cabin.
Lily returned her attention to Robin and continued stroking his hair.
Across the room, the brothers agreed to depart as soon as the sun rose.
A sharp fear passed through her.
Once they took her away, she might never see the lake again. She might never find Mister Terminator, Mama, Papa Rob, or any of the friends who had survived.
Lily looked through the broken doorway into the dark forest.
Art. Reinheart. Mama. Papa.
Her fingers tightened gently in Robin's hair.
Somebody… anybody.
Please help us.