“This isn’t what I had in mind,” Francine said through clenched teeth.

The mortal caravan was as dull as the color of their horses. Their camp was basically lifeless. Outside of their three covered wagons surrounding a crackling bonfire, their horses relaxing a comfortable distance away, there was nothing that piqued her interest. If someone wasn’t beating a dust-covered rug, they were carrying tinder to feed their fire. If they weren’t stuffing their faces with fruit (My fruit, Francine thought angrily), they were lounging about like cats, stretching themselves across decorative covers without a care in the world. How was that better than what she was doing before?

“Now, now, sister, do not let their placid life fool you,” Tes said, sliding down beside her. “These are strangers to our parts, visitors to our home. What secrets of theirs do you believe are waiting to be explored?”

“They smell like bone chewers,” Francine grimaced.

They sat on the far edge of a wide clearing, close enough to see the caravan, but not too close to be seen themselves. Which, by all means, was a bit hard. For Tes, he had a nice pair of horns, as all satyrs did, that spiraled behind his ears like a pair of snails’ shells. But for Francine, she had to be a bit more inconspicuous, as she had a rack of antlers, small and worn, but growing by the day. Because of this, she had no other choice but to flatten herself against the ground, hoping that the tall grass and dense undergrowth would, at the very least, make her look like a grazing deer. She didn’t like it, obviously. If she had the chance, she would let her hair grow out, and bury them underneath a cloud of dark brown ringlets, until all that could be seen were their pointed tips. But, alas, not even the tallest strand, no matter how long she stretched it, could reach past the first prong.

The only good thing about the situation was that they didn’t have to do it on an empty stomach. Every now and then, Tes slipped her the seeds of a pomegranate, and even pieces of its flesh, but it only settled in her stomach. It didn’t stop it from turning, especially the longer that they sat there, watching and waiting. It was agonizing.

“You are bored, sister?” Tes asked, throwing away the unappetizing peel.

Francine scoffed. “If I wanted to sit back and watch someone do something uninteresting all day, I would have gone back to Father.”

“And you do not wish to see him right now?” Tes asked, quirking his brow.

Francine looked away. Picturing her father’s cold, pale eyes, and feeling the heat in his words crinkle her skin, made her stomach clench as if she had swallowed a stone.

“No,” she whispered. “Not yet, anyway.”

Tes drew silent, then nodded in understanding. “I see. Well, then, let us say ‘hello’ instead.”

Francine laughed at first, believing that he couldn’t possibly be serious. Say hello to who? The mortals? Father practically skinned her alive when she brought one in front of the family. If he found out that they talked to some, without his permission, he would explode. But when she saw her brother rise to his hooves, perplexity twisted her mind, quickly followed by morbid panic.

“Are you mad?” she hissed, flattening herself further against the ground, to the point she could taste the earth. “Get back down here right now before someone sees you!”

Tes’s eyes flashed in mischievousness. “Oh, sister. Father is not here, and there are no spies watching us from the trees. Certainly, you are not afraid of these mortals, are you?”

There were a few things that could upset Francine, two of which were guaranteed: getting wet and challenging her bravery. Whether or not it was true she had no fears, or it was the ignorance of youth that made her believe that, no one could say. But when Tes planted his foot across the line of her patience, it wasn’t surprising when Francine shot up, eyes aflame and fists shaking.

Tes grinned. “I suppose not. Come on.”

The two of them approached the strangers with varied levels of confidence. Tes strode up with his shoulders squared and a smile that could melt away a blizzard. Francine’s arms hung and swayed by her sides with a glower that could crack stone. Her feet dragged against the grass, her walking gradually becoming slower the closer that they got, but she had to admit, deep down inside, some part of her was interested in meeting the mortals. They were a strange folk, with their weird tapestries and laid-back attitudes. Normally, mortal visitors walked on eggshells whenever they were in the Wild Woods, and for good reason. At any given moment, they might stumble onto her, and who knew what dastardly plan she had in store for them then? But the mortals in front of them were nothing of the sort. They walked about the clearing without a care in the world, as if they not only recognized the place, but owned it, too. What a ridiculous idea, a mortal owning a piece of land in the Wild Woods. It was absolutely preposterous, yet curiosity prickled Francine’s brain to figure out why.