"Whatever you must do, see it done," her pa always said. "Keep the secret. Stay hidden. Never let our neighbors learn what you are."
Gillwyn heard him say those words often, more than any others. Her pa would say it to his five daughters every morning before chores began. He would say it again when they came together at midday for lunch. He would say it one last time before they all went to their beds. Pa said it again and again until Gillwyn could feel them engraved upon her heart.
Other than that, Gillwyn and her family were indistinguishable from any other in the village. Albeit one with more daughters than usual, but still just another Althandi family.
They resided on the outskirts of Moorhaven, a growing town of just over a thousand. The land was near the border with Melcia, where the steaming moors of the north mingled with the deep forests of rural Althandor. Moorhaven was within the Senwood, one of the three great forests of the kingdom. Pa said it was closer to jungle than forest and that Moorhaven was a bright point of civilization's light in the midst of it.
Gillwyn's father would know better than anyone about the Senwood. He was a Goodman Forester, a man of the countryside and a woodsman. Gillwyn liked to believe she would follow him into the family profession. She loved being Gillwyn Forester and didn't want her name to change.
The village was fifty leagues north of the capital. One hundred and fifty miles, Gillwyn amended.
These new measurements the nobility were pushing on the goodfolk were counterintuitive. A league was an easy hour's walk. But a mile? What was that? Who thought in such bizarre ways? The sort who rode in contraptions pushed about by steam engines, most like. Maybe a mile was how far a train could go in a minute.
On sunny afternoons, the incredible towers of the City of Althandor were clearly visible over the horizon. They rose out of the hazy mists cloaking the Spired City like twigs poked into a ball of cotton.
Reclining on a bare hillside above the Senwood's canopy, Gillwyn lay on her back with her hands folded behind her head. She didn't have her shawl with her, uncaring of the immodesty of going about with her long, black hair uncovered. Gillwyn even left her hair loose and free, and the villagers could just gasp and sputter for all she cared. It wasn't like anyone would come this far from Moorhaven. She chewed on a stalk of grass, the fuzzy end bobbing along with her chomping, and her eyes focused on the distant spires of the capital. After picking out the tallest she could see, Gillwyn was convinced it was the central spire of the Palace of Towers.
As she lazed through the afternoon, listless and content, Gillwyn wondered if the Highest King was in his throne room at that moment. It amused her to think that Cathis the Algara was even now itching between his shoulder blades because she was looking in his direction.
A powerful yawn took over her entire body. She stretched her arms and legs out as far as she could make them and twisted from side to side. It was a rapturous feeling. After a day helping out at House Sheskal's cotton field, Gillwyn was exhausted, and her tired muscles needed a thorough stretching.
If she wasn't careful, she was liable to fall asleep on her favorite hillside. The breeze was just the right amount of breezy, a few starlings were chirping amicably to one another, and the grass felt near as soft as a down mattress.
A faint scent tickled her nose, sharp and acrid. It was there in one sniff and gone the next, just long enough to make Gillwyn wrinkle her nose in displeasure.
She'd caught this scent before, infrequent and unfamiliar, over the past several days. Not only near the Senwood, but also in the village. Gillwyn hadn't the faintest notion what it came from, and reminded herself once again to ask pa if there was a sickness spreading among the trees as of late.
"That's just the way of it," Pa's voice called out from the foot of the hill. "Not gone for even a full day, and my eldest thinks she's queen of the wood."
Gillwyn closed her eyes and twirled a hand in the air in what she imagined was a dignified and ladylike fashion. The image was spoiled only somewhat by her chewing on a stalk of grass.
"Lah tee dah," Pa mocked. His voice was closer, so he must have been coming up the hill. "What you been up to, Gill?"
"Cotton picking," she said around the grass stalk. "The Sheskal was paying a full mark to anyone what came to help today."
"Gold or silver?"
"Like I'd work a field all day for a silver."
Pa snorted. "The Sheskal," he grumbled. "Generous of the lord. Good that he still knows where he came from, I suppose. I remember when he was plain ol' Sheskal Cotton."
"Maybe you ought claim a title yourself," Gillwyn said.
"Easy as that?"
"Easy as that," Gillwyn said with a firm bob of her stalk of grass. "Set up the manor on this hill, would you? Won't take me so long to get home."
Pa laughed, and it sounded like he was right over her. Gillwyn might have opened her eyes to check, but that would have been entirely too much effort. Instead, she drew a little air into her nostrils and caught his scent.
Warm and comforting, though a tang of dust and blood about him today. Something else was in the air. Animal stink.
"Get a catch?" Gillwyn asked.
Something heavy landed on her stomach, and she let out a startled grunt. Without opening her eyes, she put her hand to the mysterious bundle. Her fingers touched on velvety fur, short and fine, and traced over thick paw pads. Long and sharp claws slid out from sheaths as she worked the toes. "Aww, Pa, it's a paw. You shouldn't have."
"Panther," Pa said while chuckling.
Gillwyn bolted to a sitting position, her eyes widening with delight as she looked down at the hunting trophy in her hands. Shiny black fur glistened in the sunlight, and the stump of the paw was wrapped in supple leather. She'd never seen a panther, let alone been able to touch a piece of one. A desperate and eager need ached inside her.
Pa chuckled again at her reaction. He knew exactly how fine a gift it was. He was a burly man with a kind face. Pa managed to keep himself clean shaven even when roaming the Senwood for days. He had funny, bulging eyes though. Gillwyn had always been pleased that she didn't inherit that trait. Three of her four sisters weren't so lucky.
He carried his powered bow over a shoulder. The artifice could put a broadhead arrow clean through an elm's trunk. That panther hadn't stood a chance once pa caught its scent.
Pa gestured to the paw. "The beast was driving away all the game, so the headman asked me to take care of it." His voice dropped in pitch only slightly but enough so that Gillwyn could catch the subtle warning in his tone. "Before you start messing around with it, you have a visitor."
Gillwyn sniffed the air again before she used her eyes to look; when one sense was so much stronger than the other, it was only natural to rely on it more. She was surprised that she'd missed the scent before. Clean and fresh, heather and amaranth, hints of tallow and alkali, and a good layering of flour surrounding it all despite best efforts to bathe it away.
Startled, Gillwyn spat out her stalk of grass in a vain attempt to hide that she'd been chomping on one.
"Found her on the road while I was coming out of the Senwood," Pa explained while cocking his head in indication behind him. "Thought I'd bring her your way, seeing as I had something to give you anyhow."
Cana Miller stood a pace behind Gillwyn's pa, her hands folded behind her back and an endearing smile on her face. She bent sideways at the waist to see around pa's back. Cana was wearing a new dress made from a fine linen dyed a deep and unblemished green, and a matching shawl in a paler shade hid all but a few strands of her dark brown hair. Warm brown eyes, like fine brandy, were set in the prettiest face in the village. It wasn't by mistake that the goodfolk called Goodman Miller's only daughter the jewel of Moorhaven.
A year separated the girls, Cana being the younger at fourteen. They'd long been friends, but Gillwyn was beginning to notice that Cana found excuses to drop by more often over the last few months. As of late, excuses were in short supply, but the visits continued unabated without them.
And here I've been making a fool of myself, Gillwyn thought, mortified. She felt a blush coming and fought it down with every speck of will she had.
"Before I head back," Pa said, "you know where your ma went to? She and your sisters weren't at the house."
"Ma took Tenel and the twins with her to market," Gillwyn reported while smoothing her skirt over her legs.
"What for?" Pa asked.
"Buying fabrics and buttons. Lots of dresses to make."
Pa rubbed his face tiredly. "You girls ought just stop growing so much."
"I have," Gillwyn said. "Pester Cindel. She's the one what puts on another inch each week."
"Would if I could find her."
Gillwyn purposefully kept her eyes on her pa and away from how Cana was gracefully bundling her skirt to sit beside her on the hillside. "She's probably just off stalking rabbits."
Pa's buggy eyes narrowed slightly in warning, but it passed quickly enough that Gillwyn knew he wasn't too upset about it. Girls went looking for rabbits all the time. It was hardly something a visitor would get suspicious over.
Besides, Gillwyn was fostering a notion that Cana's focus was elsewhere.
Drat, Gillwyn thought. Shouldn't've left my shawl at home. Winds and storms, I must look a plain mess next to her.
"I won't bother looking," Pa harrumphed. "That girl is plain impossible to nail down when she doesn't want to be."
"She'll turn up come dinner," Gillwyn assured him. "Cindel knows where the larder is."
"Winds see it so," Pa muttered. He turned around and made his way down the hillside towards the road, raising a hand in farewell as he went. "I'll leave you girls to your gossip. Don't stay out past dark, now. May be more than panthers coming from the north."
Gillwyn's eyes dropped to the paw in her lap. One panther this far south was an oddity in and of itself. The Senwood had its perils, but hunting cats outside of the occasional lynx weren't usually among them. The Senwood didn't need more danger. It was already home to all sorts of wild beast and a number of fey.
The nearby orc clan was best left to its own devices and spriggans were to be avoided in every situation. Fortunately, not all the local fey were dangerous. The bright folk were approachable if not always friendly. The dryads, however, were downright charming; Mother often invited Maple and Willow in for tea. In fact, scuttlebutt in Moorhaven was that Goodman Miller's mother was half-nymph.
Casting furtive glances towards Cana, Gillwyn could believe the rumors of fey ancestry or at least deduce the source of them. There was something otherworldly about how beautiful Cana was. If it was true, maybe that was part of why they had become fast friends as children.
Gillwyn stashed the paw into a pocket sewn into her skirt. It would only serve to remind her that she herself wasn't exactly human.
Though they were now alone, Cana was yet to state her business. Flecks of color were rising in her cheeks, and that nervous smile of hers hadn't faded. More and more, the silences between them were getting longer and awkward. Cana was quieter than she used to be— more furtive and hesitant. It was like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the courage.
Gillwyn swallowed. Now that she was closer, she could see that Cana's new dress was a shade too big for her. It was loose around the torso, and there was a danger of one side of her collar slipping down to bare a shoulder. The way she was leaning on her arm, one might think Cana was of a mind to make that happen.
Three full breaths were needed before Gillwyn managed to find her voice. "I thought you'd be at the Sheskal's field today."
The spots of color in Cana's cheeks bloomed into a full blush. She kept her eyes forward and wasn't looking Gillwyn's way. "No, I... was at the mill. Mother needed help to adjust the dress."
"It's a nice one," Gillwyn offered.
Cana's voice had a note of hopefulness to it. "Do you like it?"
"Course. It suits you."
The comment put a big smile on Cana's lips, and she dared to turn her eyes Gillwyn's way. When she did, the loose collar slipped down her shoulder as predicted.
Winds and storms, it's warm out today, Gillwyn thought.
"Thank you, Gillwyn. But... it doesn't suit me half so much as your eyes suit you."
Gillwyn blinked, non-plussed. "Pardon?"
Cana's blushing was getting worse, and her voice was beginning to falter. "Y-your eyes. I've... never seen their like before. Not anywhere." She clutched at the hem of her skirt and looked away. "I mean to say, your family. When the light hits Forester eyes right, they turn golden. They're... very pretty."
Kind of her to call them gold and not yellow, Gillwyn thought. The perceived change in color wasn't really a trick of the light but a lapse in concentration. Even so, it was warming to hear that Cana thought something about her to be pretty.
It was unexpected, the sudden urge that rose up in Gillwyn. She wanted to confess everything to Cana. Tell her exactly why it was that Forester eyes were different from the other goodfolk of Moorhaven. Gillwyn wanted to reveal everything she knew about selkies and harpies. Kits, weres, and dopplers. Even the dark, horrible things that mortal myths only knew a fraction of the truth about, skindancers and vampires. About the seven races of the proteurim. Gillwyn wanted to confess that she was kin to dragons and formed by demons. She wished to say that she was descended from an empire that was already ancient long before the first human came into the world.
Gillwyn wanted to tell Cana that she was a shifter.
But, if she did, Cana wouldn't look at her in this way anymore. She wouldn't think Gillwyn's eyes were pretty, come by for no reason more than to hope for a kind word, or make Gillwyn feel like the jewel of Moorhaven might want more than to just be friends.
She wouldn't love me like I love her, Gillwyn thought.
Pa's warnings echoed in her ears and stilled her tongue. There was a reason he told them to keep the secret. When shifters were revealed, they died by human hands. She and her family would be driven out of Moorhaven if not crucified. It was a terrifying reality, the hatred and the superstition. Gillwyn was afraid of being discovered for what she was, and if there was an opposite of fear, she didn't know it.
Her sadness must have shown on her face. Cana looked concerned. "Gillwyn? Is something wrong?"
Gillwyn turned towards her. The scent of heather and amaranth filled her nose. Then, like a string breaking during a violin's song, she caught the acrid stink of the mysterious scent once again. It lasted longer this time. Through two full sniffs, Gillwyn could all but taste the biting smell.
"Winds," Cana whispered, covering her face with a sleeve. "What is that?"
If Cana could smell it, it must have been stronger than Gillwyn thought.
"Meant to ask pa about that," Gillwyn muttered. "The Senwood must be catching a blight or something." She gave Cana another longing look before pushing herself to stand. "Let's take a walk. Might find what's causing it."
She eased her long knife in its sheathe, mostly to remind herself that she had it. Pa insisted that Gillwyn and her sisters never go outside without something to defend themselves.
Cana looked on the verge of protesting but must have thought better of it. Her smile returned, and she moved with an eager energy. She held up her hands.
Gillwyn's heart beat a little faster as she took those hands and assisted Cana to her feet. They stood face to face, and Cana was slow in releasing her grip. A compromise was in order.
They descended the hill, hand in hand. Their closeness made thinking of anything else difficult for Gillwyn, and Cana was beaming. Her head soon rested on Gillwyn's shoulder, and she clung tight to her arm, holding it pressed against her.
This is happening, Gillwyn thought in wonder as they approached the trees. She and Cana Miller? Courting? Moorhaven would be abuzz if it spread. Pa and her sisters would be smug and insufferable, Ma worse than any of them. Most of the village boys and no small number of the girls would want to crucify Gillwyn for reasons unrelated to her true nature, but for stealing their jewel away from them. The oldwives would natter on about how it spoke to Cana's purity and, in the same breath, name "that listless Forester girl" as some manner of shameless temptress.
If there's a temptress here, she's walking beside me, Gillwyn thought, prematurely indignant. A special dress for the occasion that falls off her shoulder on command? Winds take me, I'm hardly the shameless one.
As they strolled deeper into the Senwood, Gillwyn felt lightheaded. Her stomach was fluttering and she was short of breath. It was wonderful.
At least, it was until Cana made a horrified sound of disgust, threw herself from Gillwyn, and retched all over the forest floor.
Ravens swarmed the ground, cawing and flapping in distress at the appearance of two intruders. Some flew off, but a great many stayed behind to gorge themselves while they could.
Gillwyn patted Cana gently on the back and held her hair. The poor girl was leaning her palms on her knees and moaned. She could hardly be blamed.
Looking towards what caused Cana's small fit, Gillwyn fought down her own disgust. On the forest floor, discarded with an unkindness of ravens feasting upon it, was a mound of bloody entrails. The remnants of a predator's kill, perhaps.
In her pocket, the paw's weight caught her attention. The panther couldn't have been the culprit. Not only was this kill recent, it wasn't the way of hunting cats to leave piles of choice meat out for scavengers. The beast would have gorged itself rather than waste the effort.
Gillwyn sniffed. The acrid stink was still faintly in the air, but the offal wasn't the source. It had a bizarre scent about it, however. She'd never smelled anything quite like it and couldn't say what manner of animal had been slaughtered here. Pa would know.
"We need to catch up with my pa," Gillwyn said to Cana. "He'll want to clean this up before it draws worse scavengers than ravens."
Cana was trembling from nerves as much as upchucking her lunch. She was nodding emphatically, and she'd gone as white as an Irdish banker.
"He'll be heading for the house," Gillwyn continued. "We'll get this squared away, and you can take a load off. Is that alright?"
Cana took the hand Gillwyn offered her and let herself be led away. "Thank you. I'm so sorry. I spoiled everything."
"Hush that nonsense." Gillwyn pulled Cana closer and made sure she was steady on her feet. "My fault for taking us where animals do their daily business."
"This..." Cana swallowed. "You see this a lot?"
"No, that was weird," Gillwyn said, looking back. The bloody feast for the ravens was out of sight now, but she could still smell that bizarre stink about it. Blood, obviously, but there was also the most out-of-place scent of cinnamon. Rotten cinnamon. Sickly sweet, and not that far different from the acrid stench that led them there to begin with. "I think the blight must be affecting animals, too. Wolves or a lynx killed that creature, didn't like the taste, and left without eating their fill."
It made sense. At least, that's what Gillwyn told herself as they found the road that ran between Moorhaven and the Forester house. From here, the sounds of the village could be heard over the din of the forest. Bells and hawkers rang louder than birdsong and whispering boughs. It gave a sense of comfort to hear that civilization was close even though it couldn't readily be seen.
Gillwyn's home was even closer. The house was less than a quarter league... drat... about a half mile or so from Moorhaven. Families of Smiths, Carpenters, and Lumbermen lived on this road, as did a hedge wizard and his sky woman wife. The road was well-traveled. Gillwyn didn't feel as if she and Cana were isolated and vulnerable, but that didn't stop her from keeping her hand close to her long knife.
There was an itch between her shoulder blades. She and Cana were being watched.
Cana let out a startled yelp as motion appeared before them on the road. Gillwyn reached for her knife as a large shape scuttled down from the trees.
Eyes wide with fright, Gillwyn pushed Cana behind her and pointed her knife at the monstrous beast that came before them.
Cana screamed.