Lily detoured to the quiet edge of town, to her mother’s grave.
She knelt, laid a small bundle of fresh wildflowers against the headstone, and placed set beside it a golden-brown slice of apple pie wrapped in cloth, a silent tribute from her week’s success.
After a brief pause she rose and continued toward the city center.
She made her way to the healer’s hall. The scent of herbs and clean linen met her before she reached the door.
Dr. Hart looked up over his half-moon spectacles with a wide smile already greeting her.
“Lily! Just heard the news from some of the guild lads. You’ve joined the Sun Peninsula. By the gods, that’s fine news.” He rounded the desk and rested a hand on her upper arm. “Samuel’s successor, taking up the care of Heliosa. He must be proud of you.”
Lily dipped her head modestly. “I’ll never match dad… but I’ll give everything I have. And try not to cause trouble.”
“That’s all Heliosa could ask,” he said warmly.
Jane bustled over, apron speckled with some powder. “Lily! You made it!”
She spotted the basket while Lily set a pie down for her. She eagerly took a slice and bit in, expression melted into delight. "Lily, this is divine. You must share the recipe to me.”
The young huntress felt the week’s tension finally loosen a fraction. Watching her nurse friend and old doctor savor the pie lifted something inside her.
When Jane finished, she drew her aside, cheeks blushing. "Jane..." hugged the basket a little closer. “Can I ask you something... personal?"
Jane looked a bit confused but nodded. “Of course, Lily. What is it?”
Lily studied her own calloused palms, scarred from steel and rough work. “How do you… keep your skin so smooth? Your hair so glossy? You always look so… polished. Feminine. I’d like that too.”
The nurse's confusion softened into a gentle expression.
“Oh, Lily-love. You don’t need to look like me. You’re already strikingly strong and fearless. That quiet certainty you carry into battle? Wear it every day. That’s real beauty.” A knowing glint appeared. “Is there perhaps… someone in Solmyra you’re hoping to impress?”
Lily didn’t say anything, but her flush deepened.
Jane gave a soft laugh. “Secret’s safe. Here—” She pressed a few small vials of oil and balm into Lily’s palm, along with a sealed jar. “Use these sparingly. They work miracles.”
She cradled the gifts. “Thank you, Jane.”
After a few more words she gathered her things and stepped outside. With Merry saddled and ready, she let the familiar road carry them toward the market.
...
The sun dipped low, gilding the rooftops in amber. A nervous flutter danced beneath Lily’s ribs, silly but persistent.
Lily tied Merry at the usual hitching post. She entered the market, already scanning for Juliene’s stall.
There he was, surrounded by late-afternoon shoppers. His pale hands moved with an even rhythm, weighing fruit, counting coins, and offering quiet smiles that flashed quickly and boyishly before slipping away. Seeing him like that, doing well, in his element, comforted something in her.
She didn’t call out yet. She hovered by a larger stall, half-hidden, watching, admiring from afar.
Eventually, the crowd thinned. His last customer was a young woman with curled chestnut hair and a small pin glinting on it. She dressed simply, like most townsfolk, but carried herself with quiet poise.
Lily noticed the easy familiarity between them, their words gentle and something tender settling in the space between.
Then, as the woman was about to leave, she held Juliene's hands like she didn't want to let go.
Lily went motionless, eyes fixed on the scene before her. She felt a strange, raw ache throbbing through her insides.
She must be his girl.
The realization landed harder than expected.
He’s thirty. Of course he’s had a life before I came back.
She tried to reason it away, but the sting remained.
Just as she was about to leave, Juliene spotted her. Surprise flashed across his face, then something gentler.
He disentangled his hand and called, “Lily! You’re here!”
Caught, she summoned a bright mask. “Hi. Thought I’d drop by. Brought you something.” She offered the pie.
The young woman glanced back at Lily, wondered who she was. But then, with a small curt nod, she turned and walked away.
Juliene brushed his thumb over his knuckles. “An apple pie? Lily, that’s… incredibly thoughtful. Thank you.” He accepted it carefully afraid to drop it.
Lily followed her gaze to the retreating lady. “She seemed pleasant,” she remarked, striving for neutral. “Your sweetheart?”
“Wha—? N-No, no…” He shook his head, laughing nervously under his breath. “Just a regular customer,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck. “She comes by often for pears.”
Lily nodded, unsure if she believed him.
Was he sparing my feelings or telling the truth? He was kind, sometimes too kind. A part of him still felt like a mystery.
“Well, I should go,” she said abruptly. “Errands.”
“So soon?” His eyes searched hers for a moment before dropping again. “Well... thank you again, Lily. I’ll enjoy every bite.”
She mustered a fake smile, then left.
The market hummed around her, but she didn’t care what was there. Inside her something numbed; not anger, not even sadness, just an ache.
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She remembered Samuel’s voice in her mind, it had been just days ago since he told her this: “Be careful with your heart, Lily. You seem pretty fond of this boy already… I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”
At the time, she’d brushed it off, denied it. But now, now those words stung like salt in an open wound. The fragile hope she’d carried curled in on itself, bursting like a bubble. And she hated how easily she’d let herself fall. Hated that her Dad had seen it coming.
By the time she reached home, her shoulders were tired with the day.
Her mare gave a soft snort as Lily led her into the small temporary stable behind the barn.
“You did well today, Merry.” she patted the horse’s warm neck before unbuckling the saddle. She took her time brushing the mare’s coat, letting the repetitive motion dull the edges of the day.
Inside their house, Samuel sat hunched over blueprints and sketches, sleeves rolled, pencil smudged with graphite. He muttered to himself about load-bearing beams and roof pitch.
“You’re really into this barn project,” she went in, setting her gear down.
He looked up briefly. “Keeps my brain from turning to soup. Besides—” he gestured at the mess of paper “…—I’ve always wanted to build something from the scratch, not just patch ruins. Something that’s ours.”
Lily sat too at her workbench, pulling her whetstone into her lap the scrape threading the quiet. “You could’ve fooled me with that humming earlier. Sounded like a carpenter in love.”
“That’s because I am, unlike guild politics.”
She managed a short chuckle, but it faded quickly.
Samuel noticed. He leaned back in his chair. “So… probation continues tomorrow. Ready to keep at it?”
“Aye,” still focused on the blade. “Better save my energy. They’ll keep me busy for days.”
“Alright.”
Samuel wriggled his pencil between his fingers, observing her in silence. He sensed a shift in her mood but not quite sure what was wrong.
“That fruit vendor…” he started carefully. “Did he enjoy the pie?”
The scraping of steel paused for a second before continued. “He must’ve,” she replied shortly.
“That’s it?” Samuel pressed, one brow raised.
“That’s it.” She sharpened the blade with quick, tense strokes, the metal screeching under the pressure. “I made it with love. He’d better have liked it,” she added, her tone with irritation.
Before he could ask anything else, she began packing her things away with hurried movements.
“I’m going to bed,” she stood without meeting his eyes. “I need to rest. Tomorrow’s another long day.”
“Lily,” he stopped her before she could reach the stairs. “Did something happen back there?”
“No, not at all. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“Are you sure? I saw a wild pig roaming the back forest earlier. I thought maybe we could go hunt later, just the two of us...”
“Dad,” she interrupted, knowing what he really meant.
It picked her sometimes, how well he knew her better than she knew herself. He had spent so many years protecting her from her own impulses, and she hated the thought of being a burden to him now. She wanted to prove she could handle her own emotions, that she was finally capable of standing on her own.
“I’m fine, really,” she reassured him. “I’m just exhausted. I’m not going to explode, I promise. I just need sleep so I’m ready for tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay,” Samuel replied, though there was doubt remained in his guts.
He watched her disappear behind the door, left alone with the silence of the workshop and the feeling that she was carrying more than just fatigue.
...
The next day by late afternoon, the squad moved deep into the foothills, boots sinking into damp earth and leaf litter as they followed the winding trail toward the mountain slope.
Garric led, unrolling the contract as he spoke over his shoulder.
“Our job today is simple,” he scanned the lines from the parchment. “There’s a marrow-hound harassing farmers along the lower slopes. Lone stray, hungry and dangerous. We track it, kill it, and get back before dusk. Decent pay for the work.”
The marrow-hound, a creature slunk from the brush like a starving wolf. Its ribs jutted, fur patchy and rough, its arched back giving it a crooked shape. A long skull stretched forward, jaws full of jagged, broken teeth. Pale eyes glimmered in the dark, and the stench of rot with it.
The others listened, heads turning toward him, but Lily’s attention past to the fog hugging the slopes.
She hadn't slept well. The hours of darkness had been spent staring at the ceiling, her mind replaying the same loop until her eyes burned.
She was completely preoccupied by that scene and kept circling back to the marketplace, to Juliene’s hand entwined with that girl’s. The smiles between them. The way Lily had stood there like a fool, unable to move, unable to say a word. The ache sat heavy now, enough to mute half of what Garric said.
“Hey, Holloway.”
Finn’s voice sliced through the haze. He leaned against a tree trunk.
“You look like you’d sell your soul to be somewhere else. What’s eating you?”
Lily flashed back to the present. “I heard him.”
“Did you?” Finn asked, leaning into her space. “Garric just laid out our path and you’ve been staring into the fog like it owes you silver. By the way, have you changed your mind about joining me for a drink at the tavern?”
“Not in this life, nor the next hundred,” she answered back harsher than she meant. The lack of sleep made her patience paper-thin.
He dropped his head back, whining. “Why? Why must you spurn my heart so, Holloway?”
“Finn,” Garric barked from ahead. “Enough chatter. Eyes forward.”
Lily tightened her grip on her sword belt and willed her mind to the trail, but Juliene’s smile wouldn't leave her. It was a memory that used to bring her peace, but now it pricked at her thoughts like a thorn.
Farther along, Rowan paused and squinted at the ground. “Tracks are old. Two days, maybe three.”
Before Lily could investigate too, Jaro dropped to a crouch and sniffed the earth. Teren mirrored him, tracing it with careful fingers.
“Scent’s fresh.” Jaro muttered.
“Still wet,” Teren agreed, pointing at a dark patch. “It’s not far.”
Garric leaned toward Lily. “The twins have uncanny instincts, noses sharper than any hound. Locals call them wildcats for how they move.”
Lily arched a brow. “Wildcats, hm? Seems right.”
“Better than cats!” Jaro protested with a grin. “Cats can’t distinguish marrow scat from wolf dung.”
“Or track it uphill,” Teren added smugly. “Come on. This way.”
Rowan stayed behind, busying himself with rope and bells.
Lily stopped. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t look up. “Fair-warnin'.” He drove a stake into the soil, strung a nearly invisible line between roots, scattered brush to conceal it, then tied a small bell low enough to jingle at the slightest touch. He moved to the next gap, setting a second tripline, then a third hidden under low foliage.
“Three surprises,” he said cheerfully, brushing dirt from his palms. “One for the beast, one for luck, and one in case those brats trip over their own feet. Can't have 'em clutterin' up the trail before the real huntin' starts, can we?”
Lily rolled her eyes, but a reluctant smirk tugged at her mouth. She quickened her pace to catch the others.
They pushed forward until the trees opened into a small clearing. The twins halted.
“Here,” Jaro pointed.
As if on cue, the marrow-hound crept from the brush. Thin, starved, snarling with hunger.
Lily was about to draw her sword by Finn stopped her with a wink, a silent gesture telling her to let them work.
“RANKS!” Garric ordered.
The squad moved to their usual positions:
Rowan angled sideways, knives loose in his hands.
Finn raised his crossbow with a flourish.
Kellen spun his whipchain with a cold, level rhythm.
Brennar shifted Rosethorn, grip tight.
Darian stood apart, already drawing his bow, calm and focused.
Lily remained still, watching how they will move together.
The marrow-hound charged.
Garric met it first, spear braced, driving it straight into Rowan’s hidden tripline. Bells jingled. The beast flinched, and Finn’s bolt thudded into its hind leg.
It shrieked, twisting. Kellen’s chain snapped out, hooks sinking into its side. He gritted his teeth, yanking hard as it dragged him half a step.
“Hold!” Garric shouted.
Brennar stepped in. One clean, thunderous swing of Rosethorn crushed bone. The hound dazed. Rowan darted forward; knives flashed. The beast collapsed in a heap, blood soaking the earth.
He smirked, wiping his knife. “Told ya. Nothin' but easy prey for a blade like mine.”
Kellen yanked his chain free with a scowl. “You stole my kill.”
“Fastest hands in the guild, big man. Done’s done, and ‘tis I who did it. No sense cryin’ over a dead dog.”
“Enough,” Garric cut them short. “The job’s complete”
The squad whooped and traded jokes, some laughing so hard they nearly dropped their weapons, as if they’d just bested a dragon.
Lily’s eyes stayed on the cliffs. “Don’t celebrate yet.”
“Form up! Above us!” Darian was already moving.
The laughter died.
Shadows moved on the ridge. One. Five. Ten. No… even more.
And behind them, an alpha. Taller than any warhorse, its scarred hide stretched over cords of muscle, one eye clouded white, black saliva sizzling where it dripped. Its howl shook the earth.
“That wasn’t in the report,” Garric lifted his spear.
The ridge erupted in multiple howls.
A wild spark lit inside Lily. She had always hungered for the kill. At last, her probation would be put to the test in blood.
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