Yore walked off in the direction of the border until he was well out of sight, then stripped out of his clothes, shifted, and looped back around.

He knew the group that guarded this section of the border. They would help him. Yore had never visited Fyh’s settlement before, but his nose showed him the way.

He could see a large fire through the trees and could hear the sounds of laughter. He sprinted in that direction and then slowed down as he got closer so that he wouldn’t startle anyone.

A group of around a dozen satyrs were gathered around a massive bonfire. They had the heads and torsos of humans and the legs and horns of goats. They were all men. Generally speaking, those who had been granted magic by the fae could only reproduce within their own kind, but satyrs were an exception to this. Women of all kinds were advised not to have sex with them.

Several of the satyrs were eating and drinking. One of them was sitting against a tree, whittling something.

Another was fucking what appeared to be some sort of forest troll. He was small — at least as far as trolls went — fat, and had hair like moss. Yore had never seen anything quite like it before, but the troll seemed to be enjoying what was happening, so he wouldn’t question it.

“It’s a fuckin’ wolf!” the satyr who was copulating with the troll shouted, but he didn’t stop what he was doing.

Yore commenced the painful process of shifting back into his human form. He should have done it before making himself known. He hadn’t minded doing it in front of others before the incident, when it used to be a fluid and effortless process, but now it felt more vulnerable, more personal.

“No, it’s a fuckin’ werewolf!” Fyh declared from where he sat, perched in a low tree branch. “What brings you our way, Yore?”

“I found a young mage within your territory. He’s hurt.”

Fyh frowned. “Eh? Well, he’s not ours.”

“A Companion. Hair like gold. You don’t know anything about him or how he ended up here?”

“Can’t say I do, but we’ll take him off your hands if you like.” He tilted his head in the direction of the troll. “We like guests.”

Some of the others laughed. There was nothing malicious about it, but Yore got the feeling the mage wouldn’t have appreciated this crowd.

“No. Mages need to be around humans or other mages to keep themselves healthy. I need to get him back to the others as soon as possible.”

“Ah, right,” Fyh said. “Well, you can bring him on over here and we can give you food and bed for the night, have someone check him over. We’d love to have you. You ever fuck in wolf form?”

Yore decided to ignore that last part. “I’m worried he might have been planted across the border as a spy. Until I know any tracking chips and anything else that might have been planted on him have been disabled, I don’t want him to see or hear anything I wouldn’t be comfortable with an enemy human knowing about.”

“You’re a boring man, Yore,” Fyh told him. “All right, then, how can we help you? What do you need?”

“Supplies,” Yore said. “I don’t have anything with me to trade for them, but you can consider it a pack debt and we’ll make good on it at the next meeting of the council.”

Fyh laughed. “You’ve got all you need to pay me right here with you.”

Yore held his gaze. “I’d rather not, thank you.”

“Eh, why not? We don’t have to do the wolf thing if that’s something you lot are weird about.”

“I’d just rather not. I left the mage alone. I need to get back to him.”

“It wouldn’t take long, I promise you that.” Fyh waved a hand before Yore could object again. “Nah, you don’t want to. That’s fine. What supplies do you need?”

“Food and water, clean bandages, and if you have any kind of sleeping mats or blankets that are suitable for travel, that would be great.”

Fyh snapped his fingers at one of the other satyrs, and that satyr immediately stood and scampered off. “He’ll get the stuff for you. And don't worry about any debts. He’s in our territory, so this is our problem really, and we don’t know any mages or humans so dealing with it without you woulda been a pain. Guess we coulda just shoved him back over the border for the humans to deal with, but fuck those bastards.”

“Not all humans are bad, you know. I know some good ones.”

“Yeah?” Fyh asked. He didn’t sound convinced.

“Come visit us some time and I’ll introduce you to a man named Hamish. He’d appreciate your style of fun.”

“Huh, well, maybe. A human’s gotta be about the most boring thing to fuck I can think of, but I’ve never done it before and I like to try everything.”

“You’ll love him. Trust me.”

“If you say so,” Fyh said. “How’s that whole revolution thing going, anyway? You’re all tangled up in that, aren’t you?”

“Slow and steady so far, but it’ll hit a boiling point eventually. We can all feel it coming. We’re not as hidden as we used to be, and we’ve freed enough slaves that we’re starting to be seen as a genuine threat. The day’s going to come when they’re more afraid of letting us keep doing what we’re doing than they are of marching across the border.”

“A lot of people are going to be angry about you driving them to that.”

“Are you?”

Fyh let out a bark of laughter. “Fuck no. That’s a mistake humans have to make at least once a generation to remind them why they don’t do it. Wonder how long they’d even last over here if nobody went to fight them before they pissed off a wyvern or wandered into the swamps. Fuckers should be grateful we let them have their safe little area to live in.”

“It depends how big of an army they can gather, I guess. I’ve seen inside their military camps, fought alongside them against vampires. You’re right that they don’t know much about what’s on this side of the border, but I think they’re more capable than you might assume.”

“Yeah, well, they can face my bow if they decide to come anywhere near my territory. We’ll keep an eye out for anyone who comes looking for that slave of yours, too. They cross that border, they die.”

Fyh sounded like he was almost hoping they’d give him the chance. Yore wasn’t nearly as bloodthirsty. Perhaps having human friends had softened him to them, but he didn’t think he’d ever been all that keen on killing. It was sometimes necessary, but he found no satisfaction in it.

The satyr who Fyh had sent off scampered back, a surprisingly large backpack and two bedrolls in his arms. “Got that stuff for you.”

Yore opened up the bag and took a quick look inside. He could see bandages and something wrapped in cloth that smelled like smoked venison on top, so he assumed his instructions had been followed. 

“Thank you,” Yore said as he shouldered the bag. “And Fyh, I know you said that I don’t owe you anything, but I appreciate this and I will remember it.”

Fyh waved a dismissive hand. “It’s no problem, but maybe you’ll pay us a visit when you have a bit more time and you’ll take me up on my offer?”

“Mm,” Yore said as he turned to leave. That was unlikely, but not for the reasons Fyh might think.