The skeleton bandit snorted. “Look all you want, but be careful. She’s a fierce little thing, that one. Stuck her with an arrow and she kept fighting. Took three blows to get her sleeping, and I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“Of course,” said Ayla. “Sounds like you men were very brave.”

“I don’t know about that,” said the second bandit, sounding pleased in a way that sent chills down Ayla’s spine. A horrible, slimy sensation, like someone had cracked an egg over her head. “’S just the one girl.”

“Feisty, though,” said another. “Tried to bite me. I should’ve knocked her teeth out.”

“Don’t wanna lose ’em in the dark, though,” said the skeleton bandit. “Worth a meal each, those teeth.”

Ayla crept closer to Crier. Shadows danced on the forest floor as she left the circle of firelight. She kept her body language shivery and frightened. A scared little rabbit, a baby bird knocked from the nest. This close, she could see the bloodstains on Crier’s clothes. Violet blood dried to a dark, rusty brown. Ayla’s heart was kindling, her anger a burst of sparks, the flare of starving embers. “She tried to bite you? That’s so scary,” she said, letting her voice carry back to the bandits. “I would’ve cried.”

The bandit said something in response, but Ayla wasn’t listening. She was curling her fingers around the hilt of her bone-handled knife. Only a few paces from Crier, and Crier still hadn’t opened her eyes. It looked like she really was unconscious.

“Hey,” the skeleton bandit called out. “Don’t get too close.”

Ayla crouched down as if trying to inspect Crier’s face. Angling her body so the bandits couldn’t see, she placed the knife on the fallen leaves at Crier’s hip. One heartbeat, two, and she stood up and went over to join the bandits.

The fire was burning low. Near the edge there was a pile of dry wood, including the branch of a fir tree, not yet broken down. It was about the length of Ayla’s arm, needles feathering out like wings.

Ayla leaned forward, warming her hands. Around her, the bandits had relaxed again. She felt their eyes on her, but not out of suspicion.

She suppressed a shiver. Disgusting old bastards.

She leaned forward a little farther, all casual. Then, in one movement, she snatched the fir tree branch off the ground and swept it through the fire like a broom. The dry, browning needles caught instantly, crackling into flames. Ayla didn’t hesitate. Before the three bandits figured out what she was doing, she’d already brought the burning branch in a great arc around her, swiping it across their faces as hard as she could.

They howled, scrambling to their feet, but they’d already been drinking, and now they’d gotten a face full of fire and sharp, stinging needles. Ayla wanted to go for one of their swords—she didn’t know how else to get Crier out of the chains—but she hadn’t slowed them down enough. Already one of them was recovering, eyes red and cheeks wet with tears, furious.