CW: non-sexual nudity, a tense encounter with a stranger

Over the next few days, between trips to the tidal pool and searching the nearby grasslands for herbs, Faline tried to rebuild her supplies. Vaguely remembering what both Mama and Grandmama had taught about herbology and medicine, she found plenty of dandelion leaves, some yellowroot, sassafras, but no burdock root.

She extended her range east and west. To the west, the beach soon ended, and the shore became incredibly difficult to navigate, with large rocks and high bluffs. The land in that direction turned sharply north, knifing into the Gulf, and became impassible.

To the east, the beach rolled on, but dunes gave way to high cliffs. Atop one of the highest dunes, far in the distance, rose a ragged column of smoke. Remembering what Alax had said about Reavers being active in this direction, she stayed near the tall grasses around the dunes to avoid being seen.

The high afternoon sun bathed the area, and the beach curved south into a large inlet. It traced into a large semicircle, then curved back north, and swept once again east toward the mysterious source of the smoke she’d seen.

Before exploring the inlet, however, she lay flat behind a sand dune and peered through the high grasses.

This must be the inlet that Alax mentioned, but there were no outward signs of activity attributable to humans. Still, she cautiously traced a path shielded by the dunes, weaving between clumps of high grass.

At the southernmost part of the inlet, she found the sunken remains of a boat and scattered evidence of fire pits. The stones around them appeared pitted and worn, and the wood inside dried out and rotten. Nearby, a stand of trees stood surrounding a stream that poured over the rocks from the high bluffs above.

Some distance behind the trees, a heavily worn path wound toward the cliff face. Closer inspection revealed the path to be covered with a thin layer of undisturbed sand. Something of interest must be up the path, but what?

She resolved to explore it, and with a wary glance back at the inlet entrance, padded up the stones.

The trail wound and snaked in a serpentine fashion between outcroppings and short scraggly bushes. Higher and higher it climbed until she stood at eye level with the tops of the trees near the stream. The trail ended at a large flat plateau, fronting a cave big enough to stand in.

Without entering the cave, she could easily see that it didn’t go very far into the cliff face before splitting into short side passages on either side. Peering inside, the passages didn’t go far from the entrance. Where they ended, several openings in the walls were big enough for her to curl up into them.

To one side of the cave entrance, she found scattered bones of fish and birds, left by someone who had lived here some time ago, but the layer of dust was thick and undisturbed.

Her thoughts slowly considered the idea of moving her home here, to this naturally protected inlet. But Alax’s words rang in her mind. The Reavers had been here.

What about them?

After fully exploring the cave, which did not take long, she began to explore the flat area in front of it. Near one edge, she found an old fire pit in the rock, with a few charred wood remains and moss.

But what caught her eye was a side path that led farther down toward a large white rock formation, from which she saw several streamers of vapor rising. What was this?

She maneuvered down the path and slowly approached. A metallic scent hung in the air. The rock was very pinkish-white and looked as if it had been deposited like candle wax. Heat radiated from the surroundings, as did mist.

Around a bend, she found a wide, flat pond of steamy water. Starkly white rocks protruded from the surface.

She stood transfixed at the sight. The bubbly surface stretched from one side to the other, clear but also hot. She knelt next to it and dipped a finger. Warmth greeted her, but not so bad that she couldn’t tolerate it. Slowly, she slipped her hand in. It was as if she were dipping her hand in reheated soup.

But where was the heat for the water coming from? There was no evidence of flame. She stood and walked around the basin, looking for a heat source, but found none.

Where the water came from was easy to determine. A steady stream of it flowed into the basin from the cliff. She cupped a hand and ran it into the flow. Cool water tickled her fingers, and a taste revealed it was fresh. Water collected in the pond, with excess flowing over the edges into the large stream below, which flows through the grove of trees.

Where some of the water spilled out of the basin, little pyramids of white stone stood. She poked one, but it was as solid as rock.

She pondered what to do for some time, but eventually slipped off her tattered boots and dipped her feet into the water. The heat felt so good, she lay back and relaxed. Sleep tugged at her eyelids.

How long had it been since a hot bath? She looked around. No one was here. Why not?

After shedding her clothes in a pile next to the edge, she slid in and shook with pleasure. The warm water reached up, caressing aching muscles and soothing sore joints. She sank to her shoulders, relishing the sensation.

For the first time in weeks, she felt almost human again.

“Found the hot spring, did you?” a male voice said.

Faline’s head snapped up, and she rushed to cover herself. Luckily, except for her head, the rest of her was submerged and out of sight. Still, her heart thrashed at being surprised, and even worse, having no obvious way to escape.

A young man stood with his hands on his hips, a crooked smile on his face. He had thick jet-black hair and a square jaw with the barest hint of a beard. “I was beginning to wonder if anyone else knew about this place. I knew the Harrow folk did, but you aren’t one of them.” He glanced around.

The boy was clearly human, but with no other humans in the area, she quickly surmised he must be a Reaver. He wore comfortable-looking clothes, a light linen shirt, a leather jerkin, heavy woolen pants tucked into mid-thigh boots. All of which looked worn but well-kept.

She studied his face as he looked around. He was clearly older than she was, but not by much. He didn’t look like a pirate or murderer. He looked… normal. Almost friendly.

He stretched and sat on a nearby outcrop. “So, how’s the water?”

She wasn’t sure what to say, though her first response would have been “Hot.” Yet that seemed unnecessarily flippant. So instead, she stayed silent, trying to think of a way out of this.

The boy pursed his lips, then grabbed hold of a boot and pulled it off. “Oh, come on. It’s not a stupid question. Sometimes when it doesn’t rain much, the spring gets too hot. Almost like being boiled alive.” He tipped the boot over, a couple of rocks fell out, and he set it on the ground. Then he took the other boot off and did the same. “Cat got your tongue?”

She shook her head no.

He sighed. “You look young. What are you—thirteen?”

She nodded.

The boy unhooked his jerkin and let it fall to the ground.

Suddenly, Faline realized what was happening. Her heart started beating faster than it had. The boy was undressing. Why was he undressing?

At that, he tugged his shirt up, pulled it over his head, and dropped it to the ground. His nearly hairless, muscled torso gleamed at her.

She struggled with what to do. Run? Scream?

Then the boy stood. He tugged at his waistband, and his breeches began to slip. Oh, sweet Creator. His pants dropped to the ground, and he shook them off.

She tried not to look directly, but there was no mistaking—he was a boy. Why was he doing this? Didn’t he know she was a girl?

Then it hit her. Her hair was short and her body thin—with almost no breasts to speak of—so of course he thought she was a boy.

He sat on the side of the spring, and everything was out of view. Nonetheless, there he was, and here she was. He placed his arms on the side of the spring and lifted his torso up. She glanced away and heard him slip into the water.

She glanced toward her clothes. What was she going to do now?

He sighed and relaxed against the side of the spring. “This is great. Do you have a name?”

She had to say something; he was going to get suspicious. She started to speak but struggled to keep her voice down an octave. “Uh, Fa… Fallon. Yup, that’s my name.”

“Lukas,” the boy said. “That’s mine.”

He waited for a response or seemed to be waiting. But Faline wasn’t sure what to say, or how to say it without giving herself away.

Lukas frowned. “You’re awfully quiet. Are you mad that I discovered your little secret?”

My secret? What?

“It’s okay. I get it, you wanted to keep this place to yourself. Not to worry. I don’t get here very often, but I don’t mind sharing.” He tilted his head slightly, like he was peering past her.

“Those clothes of yours look like they came from the Harrow folk. Did you steal them?”

Faline nodded. No sense telling him the truth; it would just invite more questions.

“I’d be careful about messing with them. They can be vengeful little dung-eaters if you provoke them enough.”

Silence fell between them, as Faline continued to spin ideas around in her head as to how to escape from Lukas without revealing who she was. She looked at him again, and he lay back with his eyes closed, seemingly relaxed and unconcerned.

Maybe now was a good time to leave. If she could just keep her back to him, she might be able to slip out without him knowing what she was. She started to turn.

“So how long have you been on your own?” he said.

She stopped. “How do you know—”

“I’ve not seen you in the village, and I know everyone there. You’re also very young to be this far west.” His eyes opened, watching her with casual interest.

A glance over her shoulder revealed him looking at her, eyes narrowed but focused. “I came from the south, from Thornhaven.”

He nodded. “That’s what I figured. We get a lot of them. You’re kind of young, though. What did you do to warrant being sent away? Did you kill someone?”

She hesitated, not sure how to answer. Be truthful or concoct a lie? If the boy were a Reaver, it might be to her advantage to be truthful. “Yes.”

Lukas smiled, and for a moment, his expression shifted—she thought something almost like respect crossed his face. “You’ll fit in just fine with the rest of us.” He lay his head back and closed his eyes again. “Port Mortain always has room for people who know how to survive. You should come back with me. Better than living alone out here.”

Now was her chance. She turned and lifted herself out of the water, careful to keep everything turned away from Lukas. Snatching her clothes, she skittered toward the steps back to the cave.

As soon as she got inside, she yanked them on and wriggled into them despite being wet. The clothes kept binding up on her, but she did manage to pull everything together.

But as she finished covering herself, Lukas appeared in the cave entrance. He wore only his breeches, the rest of his clothes over his shoulder, and boots in hand.

“Where are you going?” he asked in a way that seemed more curious than threatening.

“Away,” she shot back, forgetting to lower her voice.

“I don’t think so,” Lukas replied, dropping his boots and clothes. He took a step closer.

“Stay away from me,” she said, backing away, hand going to her knife.

“Boy, you sure are excitable,” Lukas said, slipping his backside onto a nearby rock outcrop. He grabbed his boots and pulled them on. “You’d better come back to the village with me, before the Harrow folk mistake you for one of us. Believe me, they’ll kill you just as soon as look at you if they think you’re a Reaver.”

“What if I don’t want to come with you?” she asked, not letting her guard down.

“Don’t make me force you,” Lukas said, though his tone was more exasperated than menacing. “Look, I’m trying to help. You’ll find I’m one of the nicer guys you’ll meet. Some of them would have… well, let’s just say you’re lucky it was me who found you and not them.”

“And I’m supposed to be comforted by that,” Faline answered, finding the knife handle in her belt.

“Take it however you want. I’m just pointing out the reality of the situation.” He pulled his tunic over his head. “Winter’s coming. You can’t survive out here alone. At least in Port Mortain you’d have shelter, food, protection.”

All her senses tingled. I must escape. So, as soon as his head disappeared into the shirt, she bolted past him down the steps, heart thumping wildly.

At the bottom, she risked a glance back. Lukas stood on the top step, fully dressed and arms crossed. But he wasn’t pursuing; he looked disappointed, like she’d failed some test.

“Your choice, Fallon,” he called after her. “But the offer stands. Port Mortain, eastern beach. Ask for Lukas if you change your mind.”

She didn’t look back, just kept running.