Davion woke after dawn, still next to the fire pit. Someone had covered him with a blanket while he slept. He sat up and looked around. Zebulun was awake.
"Where is Quinn?" asked Davion.
"He slept in Elu and Zoya’s tent," said Zebulun.
Davion raised his eyebrows. "Ah."
They ate breakfast with the forest folk. They said farewell and left at midday. A few of his new friends gave Quinn big hugs.
Zebulun bowed to Emet. "Remember my words." Emet nodded.
They returned to Sarah’s camp in silence. Even Quinn seemed subdued, or maybe just exhausted. Zebulun shot two quail along the way.
The party arrived at dusk. All equines left behind were alive and well, as Sarah had promised. Kulth-Ing sat lazily nearby, watching them. Quinn hugged Friendship. Sarah made a stew from Zebulun’s quail and some roots she’d gathered on the way back.
"So, Sarah," said Davion. Sarah cocked her ear in his direction as she stirred the pot. "I must ask: where did you get your iron cookware? And the forest folk — they had knives and spears of steel."
"I noticed that too," said Zebulun.
"I’ve seen no forge in this forest," said Davion, "and it’s folk don’t seem like metalworkers, so…?" He looked at Sarah.
She smiled. "I sometimes visit the kingdom or the principality — small towns on the periphery. I take furs and skins from the forest folk and trade them for things they can’t make. Knives are popular, as is iron cookware."
"You’re not one of them, are you?" asked Davion. "Of the forest folk, I mean."
"No," she said. "I was born in the kingdom, in a village not far from these woods."
"The nearest village I know of is two days ride."
"The village of my birth no longer exists. It’s been gone for longer than you’ve been alive."
"Really?" asked Davion. "I’m twenty-nine. You don’t look that much older than me."
Sarah smiled and stirred the pot. "I am."
"You look great for whatever age you are!" said Quinn.
Sarah chuckled silently. "Food’s ready."
The meal passed in silence. Everyone ate ravenously after their long trek.
Afterwards, Davion resumed his questioning. "The forest folk aren’t all from the same stock?"
"No," said Sarah. "Most are the remnant of nomads driven from the plains, but a sizable number come from the other direction. They escaped slavery in the east and made it through the swamps alive. The forest folk tend to accept them."
"We also have the occasional adventurer, hermit, or fugitive enter our forest. We’re more wary of them. We let the star folk watch them for a while first. If they detect any evil intent on the part of the interloper, they deal with him. Otherwise, we introduce ourselves."
"Deal with them how?" asked Davion.
"They lure him into a bog or off a cliff," said Sarah.
Davion raised an eyebrow. "The star folk are killers?"
"Only to killers."
"Hm," said Davion.
They slept. Zebulun woke before dawn to fish in the stream at the bottom of the hill. He pulled two fat trout out of the water, cleaned them, and foraged a few quail eggs on the way back up.
He returned to camp to find Davion staring up into the branches of a longleaf pine. Davion looked at him, then looked back up. "Do you see what that fool is doing?"
Zebulun looked up. Quinn sat near the top of the pine, some hundred feet in the air, on a branch that looked too thin to support a cat. He clung to it with crossed legs, leaving his hands free to juggle pine cones as he swayed back and forth in the breeze. He was up to five.
Zebulun looked at Davion with mirth in his eyes. "Juggling."
Davion shook his head. Zebulun looked back up at Quinn and asked, "How old is he?"
"Physically or mentally?" asked Davion. "He claims to be twenty-three, but he looks like he’s seventeen and acts like he’s eleven."
"Six!" yelled Quinn from above.
"How did you two meet?" asked Zebulun.
"Funny story," said Davion. "It was a dark and stormy night — "
"Heads up!" shouted Quinn. A pine cone bounced off Davion’s shoulder. "Sorry!" he yelled down. "I guess I’m good to five!"
"Quinn," yelled Davion, "Zebulun brought breakfast!"
Quinn scampered down the tree like a squirrel.
After breakfast, they said goodbye to Sarah.
"The forest folk appreciated your visit," said Sarah. "They wanted me to let you know that you are all welcome here. They hope to see you again. As do I."
"I hope to see you again," said Zebulun. The others murmured their assent.
"Are the star folk here?" asked Quinn. "I’d like to say goodbye to them."
"Not at the moment," said Sarah. "They sometimes leave before dawn."
"Where do they go?"
"Right up to the edge of heaven."
"Wow," whispered Quinn, looking upward. "Why?"
"They live on sunlight. They say it’s more powerful up there."
"Neat," said Quinn. Davion stared up into the blue sky, a curious look on his face.
Kulth-Ing put his paws on Quinn’s shoulders and licked his face. He rubbed a nervous Davion’s leg before placing his paws on Zebulun’s chest and looking up into his eyes with calm.
"He likes you," said Sarah.
"We understand each other," said Zebulun, looking into the jaguar’s eyes. "We’re both killers."
The trip back to Azulan took twenty days.
Zebulun went back to his duties.
Davion went back to his studies.
Quinn went back to his taverns.