In the forest, everything was silent, aside from the hiss of leaves shifting in the wind like a serpent's whisper. An untrained eye would never notice Magnus hidden amongst the trees. Years of practice taught him to remain absolutely still while observing his next meal. There, in a beam of sunlight seeping through the branches, stood a deer—its ears twitching as it sniffed the air. The buck would never smell him. Not with his skin caked in earth.

When the deer resumed chewing dry corn scattered across the ground, Magnus positioned his bow, drew in a breath, and released the arrow upon exhaling. The buck took off, and what remained were leaves floating back down in its wake. Calmly slinging the bow over his shoulder, he began following the dotted trail of blood, his bare feet nearly blending with the brown earth. Up ahead, the deer slowed and collapsed to the ground—a quick death. One he hoped wouldn't taint the meat with adrenaline.

The breeze picked up, and weaved through his limbs, sending a chill up his neck, giving him pause. Something didn't feel right. Proceeding carefully, he noticed a strange lump leaning against a tree just a few feet from where the buck fell. Squinting, he tried making out what it was.

He crept slowly and crouched to get a better look, only to discover it was human. Dark, matted curls covered their face and arms, so he swept a few tendrils aside to identify them.

"¡No me toques!" they growled, and he flinched away from the glass shard swiping at him.

"Easy, easy." He held up his hands.

"¡Lárgate!"

Backing away, Magnus kept his hands up while studying the mystery woman's face. Her left eye was swollen shut, and her bottom lip was split open. She winced while stumbling to her feet, and he noticed she was clutching her blood-soaked arm to her chest.

"Escucha, no quiero hacerte daño. I want to help you. I have medicine in my truck," Magnus said.

"I don't need your help!"

"So, you speak English," he chuckled. "Have you taken a look at yourself? Because it looks like you need help to me."

The woman lifted her chin to stare him down with her good eye, and he realized how odd he must appear with mud and moss covering his body. He also noted how young she was, and in her vulnerable state, she was bound to wind up in more trouble. If he walked away now, and she were killed, the guilt would eat him alive. And he already lived with many regrets.

"What happened to you?"

"I was attacked."

"Where?"

"The wasteland."

"It's not safe to travel the open road without a group. Were your people killed?"

"I wish." She leaned against the tree and winced again.

"Pardon?"

"I don't have people anymore. I-" she paused, her good eye searching the dense forest, and then said, "I ran away."

"Why?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions!"

"You're on my land. How else can I assess if you're a threat to my people?"

"I... I come from the west."

"Funny. You don't look like a fisherman or a farmer."

"Well, I am!"

"Prove it."

"How?"

"Show me your hands," he said, and the woman held out her uninjured one so that he could examine the skin of her palm. "They're a little too rough compared to the hands I've seen at trading posts. These look more like they belong to a warrior."

She withdrew quickly. "I'm a hard worker."

"Is that why you ran away? You got tired of hard work?"

"No, I-" she looked down and began twisting the hem of her torn shirt. "I was attacked by a man who wanted my hand in marriage. He wouldn't take no for an answer, so I ran away."

Magnus inhaled sharply. If there was one thing he detested most, it was men taking advantage of young, innocent women. Motioning over her, he asked, "So he did this to you?"

"No." She shook her head. "This happened last night while I was camping in the wasteland, but if you think I look bad, you should get a look at the other guy. I don't think he expected me to fight back."

"No, I bet he didn't."

"You said this is your land. Where am I exactly?"

"The north."

"Yes, I know, but what's the north?"

"This." He spread out his arms, and when the woman rolled her good eye, he grinned. "What's your name?"

"Estera."

"Well, I'm Magnus and my home is just a few miles from here. I'll take you there so we can see to your wounds, and you can get some rest. In the morning, we'll guide you wherever you need to go."

"But I don't know where I'm going. I didn't set off with a plan."

"Then we'll worry about that tomorrow."

∆∆∆

Grey clouds swirled above them the entire way as Magnus drove his lawnmower to the compound. It was going to storm soon, and he had driven faster than usual, forcing Estera to hug him tighter with her good arm. Behind them, the deer carcass rolled along in a wheelbarrow tied to the lawnmower. Estera had snorted at the sight of his truck, but he didn't care. Instead, he smiled proudly and told her she could walk alongside him if she didn't like it.

When they got to the tall wooden gates, with barbwire swaying in the strong wind, he honked to alert the guards. The barriers screeched open, and they revealed the small town that existed inside with citizens moving about. Magnus waved as he drove forward, greeting his father and brother, who always met him at the entrance after a hunt. Except his brother's brown eyes became slits as he zeroed in on the woman sitting behind him.

"You've been gone for twenty-four hours, and this is what you bring back?"

"It's nice to see you too, Samson," Magnus replied while helping Estera down.

"We sent you out to hunt, not pick up chicks."

"That's enough, Samson," their father said.

"You always take his side!"

"I said, that's enough!" Their father barked. "She's obviously in need of medical attention, and we have the resources. As for the two of you, there's a deer to prepare, so I suggest you get to it."

"It's one deer. Magnus can handle it on his own."

"Samson, do as I say." He glared.

Trying to diffuse the situation, Magnus tossed his arm over his brother's shoulder and pulled him towards the lawnmower. "Come on. This buck won't clean itself."

They drove the short distance to the butcher shack, which was down an alleyway off the main street in town. If one got lost, all they had to do was follow the smoke curling high into the sky. The shack stood in a small courtyard between a cluster of buildings, with swaying clotheslines connecting them. Raw meat was sprawled across a wooden table, while the butcher stood there, hacking into a spread of beef ribs, his apron stained with blood.

"And what can I do for the sons of Jupiter Juarez?" he asked, not bothering to look up.

"Got a nice looking deer for you."

"Hang it over there." He pointed with his knife, and the brothers got to work removing it from the wheelbarrow.

"You know," Samson grunted. "If it had been me who returned with only one deer, papá would be furious."

"That's not true."

"It is. You're his favorite."

"I'm his firstborn, and when he expires, I'll be the one to take his place. It's not favoritism. It's just the way things are."

"Nope. It's favoritism."

Magnus shook his head and began tying the deer's front legs together. "It's all in your head. He loves you."

"I know he does. Just not as much as he loves you. Had I been the one to bring a stranger through our gates, he would've removed his shoe to beat me with it."

"You're being ridiculous." Magnus tossed the rope over a beam that stood a few feet in the air and pulled on it to raise the carcass off the ground. "Besides, she's harmless."

"You're too trusting. Where did you even find her?"

"In the forest, just a few miles from here. She's from the west," he replied and stabbed his knife into the buck's belly to disembowel it.

"From the west? She doesn't look like a farmer."

"And how would you know what one looks like?" He shoved his hand inside the opening and began pulling out its insides. "When's the last time you've gone to a trading post?"

"Did you see her arms? Farmers don't grow muscles like that from harvesting, and fishermen sure as hell don't get them from casting nets. I don't like her."

"You've just met her," he scoffed. "And she's injured. What was I supposed to do, leave her there to die?"

"Don't be so dramatic. She might be banged up, but she's definitely not dying. You've always been too soft when it comes to women."

"You wouldn't understand..."

"Oh, but I do." Samson folded his arms. "It all goes back to mommy."

Magnus paused and exhaled a slow breath. "You don't understand because you were too young to remember what happened."

"I might not remember, but I do know it's her own fault."

"Don't start."

"I don't know why you defend her. She was having an affair with one of those barbarians from the south."

Magnus spun and snatched his brother by the collar. "Shut your mouth! Have some respect for the dead."

"It's true." Samson shoved his chest.

"Those are lies. She loved our father."

"Because of her, we almost lost this territory. Because of her, a war began. You know it, and I know it."

Not wanting to hear any more of it, Magnus drew his fist back, but the butcher intervened with his pot-belly nudging them apart.

"Do I need to knock you both senseless? You're brothers. This is no way to behave!"

"I'm sorry, Wallace," Magnus said quickly and backed away.

"I'll take care of the rest." He nodded to the deer. "You boys go eat something. Clearly, you're both hangry and irrational."

"You're right. We'll get out of your hair." When Magnus climbed onto the lawnmower to leave, his brother stood in front of it.

"Listen, Mag," he sighed and ran a hand through his thick dark hair. "You've always said I have good instincts, and something feels weird about this girl. Ya know?"

"Sammy, enough with the girl!"

"Just hear me out. People rarely stumble on another territory. We have trading posts for a reason—they're neutral ground. Yet, this girl just shows up out of nowhere, claiming she's from the west? It doesn't add up to me."

Magnus studied his baby brother for a moment. Samson did have a gift for picking up on things quicker than most. However, he was also known to react hastily, and it was his poorly planned decisions that often led him into trouble.

"Sammy, I know you mean well, but trust me on this one."

"I do trust you. It's her, I don't."

"Sammy..."

"Fine. I'll back off."

"Are you really?"

"Nope," he replied and walked away.

Shaking his head, Magnus rode off and made his way to the Great Hall, where community members congregated for meals. Above him, a crack of thunder echoed across the mountains, followed by big drops of rain. Around him, citizens began running for cover, their shoes slapping against the newly soaked earth. Along the watchtowers, guards were scurrying to their posts to prepare for the storm, and soon, the alarms were blaring over the speakers.

As hungry as Magnus was, he had a job to do, so he turned the lawnmower around, and headed for the Weather Room.

It was time to catch some lightning.

***
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