“Huh?” Brella wandered over, a young girl clinging to her waist. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

Something about this situation rankled, and it wasn’t just that Brella hadn’t prepared her for a harmless band of armed infants.

“We don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Scratch—”

Lollie smirked. “Your name is Scratch?”

Annoyance bloomed red behind her eyes. “Yes.” Not that anyone named Lollesandra had room to judge.

“Fine name,” Lollie replied without a hint of irony. “It’s not every day our Brella brings a Passenger. She is your Passenger, is she not?”

“Yes, she is. And more to the point, Lolls, I wasn’t aware I was anyone’s Brella.”

Scratch had barely enough time to wonder what in the infinite hells a Passenger was, and whether Lollie had been referring to her before the bandit volleyed back a tart reply.

“Of course, my mistake. Ah, I do miss our banter. Follow me, all.”

Lollie led their party deeper into the woods, making sharp turns and quick jumps over split logs and mossy boulders. Scratch kept dogged pursuit, short legs be damned, until the trees parted and she found herself in a wide, sun-drenched clearing. Ten squat canvas tents sat around an extinguished fire pit, over which a char-marked spit squeaked as it shifted in the afternoon breeze. Laundry hung on lines stretched between trees, small hats drying beside mended britches and the occasional tunic. Someone had created a makeshift altar out of smooth river rocks, but it was entirely unclear which god was meant to be honored by the little display, which included featureless cloth dolls and a bulky whittled statue of what might have been a bear.

Lollie swept out an arm. “Home sweet home.”

“Looks a little permanent for a bandit’s den.” Scratch crossed her arms over her chest to muffle the sudden mysterious pang therein. “Aren’t you concerned about getting arrested?”

“As if King’s Guard would ever come out here, present company excepted. Besides, the forest takes care of us.” Lollie stood close—too close—and lowered her voice. “The trick is, when you ask the forest for something, you really have to feel it. Gotta put everything you have into it. Hasn’t Brella told you? She understands this place better than anyone.”

Scratch bristled. “She’s mentioned a few things.”

“She used to love it out here you know.” Lollie took a hunk of wood out of her pocket, followed by a small knife. She began to whittle, dragging the knife across the wood in slow, rhythmic strokes.

Scratch didn’t know how Lollie had managed to get her alone but somehow it had happened. Chalk it up to being out of her element, or maybe the wily magic of the woods. Brella was nowhere to be seen.