Anji cursed herself for the outburst, her throat tight, eyes flitting between the two. The Goat’s impenetrable stare stuck on Anji for a heartbeat, hand tightening on his dagger’s hilt. Then with a grunt he tore his gaze away and trudged toward the line. He ripped both rabbits off and strode back, the animals swinging in one huge hand, then snatched his crossbow from the rock and folded himself in front of the fire opposite Anji. “Just saying,” he muttered, laying the rabbits on the ground in front of his crossed legs. “Choosing to run up this way, lass … one might forgive me calling you simple. Myself, I’d have run south. My dad always said, ‘Son, if you’re running, run someplace warm. That way, if you’re caught, you won’t die with your teeth chattering.’”

The Ox blew on the moss fire, heavy smoke billowing up from it. “Well, nobody is dying here. She’s wanted alive and she’ll arrive as such.”

The Goat sniffed, unsheathing his dagger. “Hear that?” He jerked his head to the Ox, now lifting a copper pan out of a canvas bag the size of a pillowcase. “You’re lucky you were picked up by such professionals as we.”

“Luck has no place on this earthly realm,” said the Ox. She fished out a square package of white butter and cut a square into the pan. “We move as the One wills us.”

“As the One wills us,” said the Goat. He slit into the first rabbit’s fur, separating pelt from muscle with easy, practiced strokes. His long fingers worked like spiders along the creature’s body, unwrapping it like a parcel until only gleaming muscle showed. He set it aside and started on the second without a word.

The One should get off their ass and will me out of here, Anji wanted to say, but she kept it down, her side still smarting where the Goat had kicked her, the wound in her shoulder a constant reminder of the pain he could inflict in a heartbeat. She watched the Ox lay the fish sizzling into the pan, and leaned back despite her aching stomach. The Ox had mentioned she was allowed to ask questions, so she thought for a moment as the woman added another pat of butter to the pan.

“Why don’t you take off the masks?”

The Ox chuckled. “Everyone wants to know about the masks. We do take them off, in private.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Ask the right question.” The Ox simpered. “And I’ll answer it.”

Anji ran a finger along the chaffed skin under her manacles. “Why don’t you take them off in front of your prisoners?”