A snuffling grunt woke Galen from a sound sleep. In the blue-gray light of pre-dawn, he could just make out the shapes of things and saw that his companions still slept. Their bedrolls lay grouped about the ashes of the fire, and all was still.

One bed was empty, but Galen expected this, as they had set a guard and decided on shifts the night before. Oberik had taken the first watch.

A second soft snuffle emanated from Behn's bedroll, and Galen smiled, remembering a childish argument they'd once had over whether Behn snored.

He closed his eyes, intending to get a few more hours' sleep, when a much louder and quite different snuffle had him sitting bolt upright.

It had come from beyond the edge of camp, and in the dim gloom, he could just make out a shape moving among the scraggly trees.

Correction: shapes.

At least a dozen large boars rooted about in the area where they had dumped the washing water and food scraps the night before, and they were getting closer.

Galen glanced around. Surely, this was cause for alarm, and yet no alarm had been given.

He saw the explanation in the form of Obi, who sat slumped fast asleep with his back against a tree.

Not sure if shouting would attract the boars or drive them off, Galen rose silently, went to where Sev lay, and softly called his name.

Sev sat up immediately, knife in hand, and Galen was glad he hadn't tried a more direct approach.

"Galen?" Sev frowned and sheathed his knife. "What's wrong?"

Galen raised a finger to his lips and pointed. Sev followed his line of sight, went still, and swore. Then he swept the camp with his eyes, saw Obi, and swore again.

"Help me wake the rest," he said. "Quietly, as you did me. If the boars think there's food here, they'll see this as their territory, and they don't take kindly to intruders."

Galen nodded and went first to Triss and Behn, who he at least knew wouldn't murder him for waking them up unexpectedly.

Within minutes, everyone was up, bedrolls packed, boots laced, and belongings collected. The boars remained occupied with the refuse, but a few wandered closer. Fortunately, their eyesight was poor, and they seemed unaware of the travelers.

"Damned nosey beggars," Iksy muttered. "We're lucky they didn't scent the packs."

"We're downwind of them," Sev whispered as they moved off as quietly as they could. "They must have come upon the scraps by chance."

Sev moved with Galen to the front of the group, while Rea and Triss readied their bows and brought up the rear. Only the luckiest of shots could bring down a boar, but arrows were the only long-range weapons they had, and swords were not designed for such beasts. Boar-hunting spears had special crossbars above the blade, for without them a wounded boar might push itself right up the shaft to get to the hunter in its rage.

They moved as quickly as they dared, and were nearly clear of the trees, when a monstrous boar, half the size of a horse, trundled from the brush ahead of them and blocked their path. Its bristles were black and its mean little eyes had a strange, reddish tint. It grunted and clacked its tusks at them, snout twitching as it caught their scent.

"What do we do?" Iskthanis asked quietly. "Throw it some food?"

Sev shook his head. "I doubt that would work." He glanced at the scraggly trees, but the thickest branches were too low to offer protection, and those higher up were too thin to hold their weight. "They usually don't attack unless cornered or threatened. Perhaps if we move off the trail, we might—"

With a squeal of rage, the boar charged straight at them. Fear seized Galen's heart, and he froze. Then Sev shoved him hard to the side and he fell sprawled in the rough grass as the beast rushed past with a gust of foul-smelling wind.

"Scatter!" Sev yelled to the others as he pulled Galen back to his feet. "It can't make quick turns!"

The others obeyed, darting off among the trees, and Sev shoved Galen towards the trail.

The gigantic boar turned again, tossing its ugly head, and giving another squealing growl. As it pawed the ground, Galen had a horrible thought, and stopped in his tracks.

Behn had nearly all the food, and Behn was not a fast runner.

"Why are you stopping?" Sev demanded, shoving him again. "Run!"

"Behn!" Galen said, pointing to where Iksthanis was just then helping the other boy up from a fall. "He can't run with that giant pack!"

"Iksy has him—worry about yourself!"

"But Behn has the food!"

"It's not after the food!" Sev shouted, shaking him. "It's after—"

The boar charged again—not at Behn, but at Galen. Arrows flew from two bows and struck the boar's head and sides, but missed the eyes and failed to penetrate a vital spot.

Sev stepped in front of Galen, drew his sword, and ran directly at the boar.

Galen watched in horror as man and beast rushed towards a deadly collision. There was nothing he could do, and while Sev was undoubtedly a talented swordsman, the boar would toss him aside like a leaf in the wind.

Then Galen gasped.

Three paces from the charging boar, Sev leaped high in the air and spun, turning upside down as the beast rushed beneath him, his sword flashing in a sweeping arc. He landed on his feet in a low crouch on the boar's other side, but the boar charged on, straight for Galen.

And then its head fell off. 

 Its body crashed to the ground in a spray of dirt and blood, sliding to a halt not three paces from Galen's feet.

He stared as blood burbled from the stump of its neck, pooling on the ground, then raised his eyes to where Sev still knelt, leaning on his sword.

Slowly, Sev rose and turned, and his eyes shone with a pale blue light. As he drew near, careful to avoid the blood, Galen saw the veins in his face and hands were visible beneath the skin, lit with the same phosphorescent glow.

He reached down and pulled Galen to his feet again.

"I told you to run," he rasped. He looked tired, and his expression was strangely blank.

"What are you?" Galen whispered, half in fear and half in awe. "I've never seen anyone fight like that."

"I am a Hand," Sev answered. "That is all you need to know."

Galen swallowed, looking past him to the dead boar. "You could have been killed."

"It does not matter if I am killed," Sev said. There was a cold edge to his voice that made Galen look at him again. The light in his eyes and beneath his skin quickly faded, and Galen wondered if he'd imagined it. "It does not matter if the others die, either. Only your life matters now. Try to remember that next time."

Triss and Rea joined them with their bows at the ready, but then relaxed when they saw the boar was already very dead.

Triss gaped at the headless beast, but Rea's attention was on Sev. She watched him with a strangely unhappy expression.

"That was reckless," she said.

"It was necessary," he replied, wiping his sword clean with a clump of dry grass before re-sheathing it.

"Was it? We might have driven it off with a few more volleys."

Sev shook his head. "I don't think so, Rea. But never mind that now. Done is done. And believe me—no one knows the risks better than I."

The snuffling grunts of the other pigs sounded from the brush, and Sev nodded back towards the trail.

"Come—let's leave them to their feast. At least they'll be too sated to follow us, now."

"They eat their own kind?" Galen asked, appalled.

"They eat anything they can find," Rea said.

Back on the trail, they regrouped. Behn was shaky and out of breath, but otherwise unharmed, and once they'd put some distance between themselves and the boars, they paused briefly and distributed the food more evenly between the packs. That way, if they lost one, they would not lose all.

With the provisions re-packed, Iksthanis distributed a light breakfast of fruit and nuts, with the promise of a better meal once they were beyond the hills. Then they walked on, keeping a brisk pace. Despite his assurance that the herd wouldn't follow them, Sev wasn't taking the chance.

Galen still had questions, but he kept them to himself. Meanwhile, Behn listened to the tale of how Sev had killed the boar with disbelief, and Triss only believed it because she'd seen it with her own eyes. None of the others showed surprise.

By midday, they cleared the last of the hills and reached the flat valley plain that lay between them and the edge of the Wild Green. It would take the rest of the afternoon to cross it, but Galen felt his spirits lift as soon as they left the hills behind. He had not realized how oppressive the place felt until he was free of it. The others shared his feelings, and soon the morning's scare faded to a memory. Only Obi remained quiet and refused to speak or look anyone in the eye.

"It's 'cause he fell asleep," Triss explained, when Obi dropped back a way to walk alone.

"What's the big deal?" Behn asked. "People fall asleep on duty all the time."

Triss shook her head. "He'd be flogged if he were a Guard; and during wartime, falling asleep at your post is a capital offence. He endangered all of us."

"Worse—in the eyes of the Order, at least—he endangered the mission," Sev said. He walked on Galen's other side and had said little all morning. "However," he continued, "I think it was not entirely his fault. In fact, the fault may be mine."

"How so?" Galen asked.

Sev looked at him sidelong. "The Order scolded me harshly when they learned I had not taken you to them the moment I saw the pendant you wore. If I were not among the best of their Hands, I could have expected worse punishment. They are not the only ones who want to find the p'yhra, you see."

Galen swallowed. "Who else is there?"

"The Orders say they do not know," Sev said, and sighed. "Hands do dangerous work, and it's not unusual for one to 'disappear' while on a mission. Over the last several years, though, it's become more common. On my last three missions—including the one on which I first met you—I've been followed by... unseen things."

"Trackers?" Galen asked, remembering what Sev had called them.

He nodded. "We don't really know what they are. They seem to take many forms, these... phenomena. We only know that they follow us, and we take certain precautions to keep them at bay, especially at night. However, they are most prevalent in more wild places, and I did not think we needed to worry so soon."

"What's that got to do with Obi and the boars, though?" Behn asked.

Sev glanced at him. "Oberik and I have traveled together many times. He has never fallen asleep on guard duty before. Likewise, that boar wasn't after food. It wasn't attracted by sound or smell. It was after only one thing."

"Me." Galen had guessed as much earlier, but he still didn't understand. "But... why?"

"My guess is this: whoever wants to find the p'yrha wants to keep him out of the Order's hands. And the easiest way to do that is to kill him."

Galen swallowed. "And what about you?" he asked. "How are you able to... move like that?"

Sev sighed. "It's a conversation for another time. For now, rest assured we won't let our guard down—literally or figuratively—again."

-✵-

By late afternoon, the thin gray line in the distance resolved itself into a sea of trees. The border of the Wild Green was surprisingly abrupt, with open grassland on one side, and dense forest on the other. This wall of woods stretched away to north and south as far as they could see.

They set up camp in a slight hollow, and despite his obvious weariness after two days of nearly constant walking, Behn insisted on doing his part and prepared the meal.

While the others laid out bedrolls, gathered fuel, and washed up in a small stream just beyond the forest's edge, Behn tended his pot. A little over an hour later, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, he served up heaping bowls of hot rice and beans with fresh fried eggs on top.

"I wasn't planning to use all the eggs at once, but it's a miracle they survived this long!" he said, wiping sweat from his brow and trying to give Galen more than his fair share.

Only Obi refused to eat. He'd helped set up camp and gather fuel and water, but Galen noticed he had unpacked none of his own things.

Instead, as the others received their bowls, he came to kneel before Sev with his head bowed.

"I have failed you, Omalan Sevhalim," he said. "Forgive me, but I am no longer fit to travel at your side."

Sevhalim sighed. "Enough of that, Oberik. You are an honored friend, and your failure, I suspect, is not your fault. However, you are always free to go your own way. You do not owe the Order your life, and you do not owe me anything."

Obi looked up, and Galen was surprised to see a hard shine in his eyes.

"That isn't true," he said.

Sev looked away. "In my eyes, it is. I have only ever done my duty, Obi. Nothing more. As have you. Help me and Rea set up the perimeter, and know you are forgiven."

Obi lowered his gaze again and nodded.

Later, Galen watched as Sevhalim walked the perimeter with Rea and Obi, engaged in some strange ritual. Obi had returned to his usual optimistic self, and for an instant, Galen saw a mirror of himself and his own friends and felt a kinship with his new companions. They had histories he did not yet know, but for the first time since he'd met them, he looked forward to knowing them better. Perhaps their goals had started at odds, but now their courses converged. Whatever his fate may be, it lay—for now at least—in Sevhalim's hands.

He could do worse, he thought.

Sevhalim was slim and graceful, and Galen doubted if even Iksthanis could cut a boar's head off in one stroke, and yet Sev's sword had sliced through the beast like a hot knife through butter. There was clearly more to the man than met the eye.

Sev, Rea, and Obi gathered small white stones and arranged them in the shapes of symbols—one in each of the four directions, and one at each of the four cross-directions between, encircling the camp. Then they went a short distance into the forest and came back with long sticks, which they planted in the ground—twelve, in a circle beyond the symbols. Tying strings to the sticks, they hung little bells, and then—Galen was sure, though if he'd blinked he'd have missed it—Sevhalim touched the string, and a little blue spark shot along the strand, briefly lighting it.

Satisfied at last, they rejoined the others just as the first stars pierced the darkness overhead, and Galen went to sleep with Sevhalim on his left, and Behn on his right, and feeling—despite everything—completely safe.

The night passed without incident, and the following morning, everyone rose refreshed. After a breakfast of oats with raisins and a little spoonful of honey, they packed up and prepared to press on into the Wild Green.

They stood before the wall of trees, staring at the seemingly impassable tangle of branches, and Sev turned to Triss and Behn.

"This is your last chance to turn back," he said. "You could follow the edge of the Green, back to Dern. Triss, I am sure, knows the say. Once we enter the forest, it will be unwise to part company."

"Where Gale goes, I go," Behn said firmly, tightening the buckles on his pack. There was not a trace of quaver in his voice, and Galen felt a surge of pride for his friend.

One need not be a warrior to be brave.

Triss nodded her agreement. "Same."

Sevhalim looked between them and nodded. "So be it," he said, and led them on.