Dem's nose twitched first. His eyes opened a heartbeat later, just as a black feather withdrew under Ai's pillow like a guilty creature. He sat up, smiling.
"Time for breakfast."
Ai groaned and shoved the feather deeper out of sight. "Can you see through your eyelids or something?"
"No." Dem stretched lazily. "My dosu breathes heavily through her mouth. I thought a bear snuck into the tent."
Yada barked a laugh as Ai lunged to grab him. Dem slipped away like a river eel, avoiding her arms by inches.
"Don't mess up the bedrolls," Yada warned, "or you'll both be rerolling them."
Dem froze in place immediately. Ai held on another moment out of pure stubbornness before letting him go with a huff.
It had been two days since the fireworks. The Travelers were preparing for their final show, and Dem had spent the time in nonstop training — teaching Sybasi in the mornings, learning the spear from Huntmaster Dern, then foraging deep into the mountains with Telo, Tam, and Ai while learning to trap properly.
Ai peeked outside, scowled, and closed the flap."I suppose my dasai already knows who's waiting?"
Dem nodded. "Huntmaster Dern. And Rave."
Ai made a noise halfway between annoyance and resignation. "Does she have to walk with you every single day? Those Frostridge women are too forward."
Yada traded looks with Gram. "Reyka or Rave this time?"
"Rave," Ai muttered. "If Reyka shows up here again, I'm chasing her off with a stick."
Gram chuckled. "Don't start a feud with the Frostridge Clan."
"Too late," Ai sniffed. "Did you see how Tam won the archery contest again this year? I thought Reyka was going to cry."
"It was close," Dem admitted, grinning. A single point separated Tam and Reyka, but somehow Tam always managed to edge ahead.
Ai jabbed him gently. "You were cheering for Tam, right, dasai?"
Dem nodded, lifting a hand in a quick wave as he ducked out of the tent.
Stepping out into the morning light, Dem paused as the familiar chorus of the Gathering settled around him. On the far side of camp, Redfox women beat dust from their rugs in a steady thwack-thwack-thwack, a sound that meant morning as much as sunlight.
Beyond them came the bleating of livestock being herded toward pasture, bells clanking, and herd tenders whistling sharp commands across the grasslands.
Dem inhaled deeply, letting the scents and sounds sharpen his senses.
"Good morning." He approached Huntmaster Dern and Rave, who stood around the campfire in what could only be described as polite, awkward silence.
Rave brightened the instant she saw him. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
"Did your dosu keep you from breaking fast again?"
Dem laughed. Ai always handled waking the family — and always took twice as long if someone from Frostridge was waiting.
"Yes."
Huntmaster Dern cleared his throat. "No Sybasi or spear lessons today. There's a large hunt forming, and I want you to join me."
Dem straightened. "When do we leave?"
"One hour. Meet me at the Swiftwind remuda." Dern dipped his head to Rave and strode away like a man racing the sunrise.
"Lucky…" Rave muttered. "I'd give anything to go."
"Really?" Dem blinked. "Isn't it just a hunting trip?"
Rave gave him a look. "Every Gathering, all Huntmasters and their seconds join together for a single hunt. Something dangerous, something rare. If they're calling it early, they must've found something."
Dem frowned. "I've never heard Huntmaster Dern acknowledge a second."
Rave laughed softly. "It's you, Dem."
"I've only been here a few weeks," he protested. "It's not me."
She let out a sigh. "Can I ask you something?"
Dem nodded. "Sure."
"Is there… a tribal girl you like? Someone not from Swiftwind?"
"Sure."
Rave leaned in. "Who?"
"Yena. From Redfox," Dem said simply.
A loud snort echoed from the tent entrance. Ai stood there biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood.
"We're making breakfast, Frostridge. Unless you're helping, come back later."
"I—I'll help," Rave stammered, turning pink.
"Dem!"
The Swiftwind shaman's voice carried across the camp, snapping Dem's attention like a whipcrack. He turned and froze.
All nine Gathering shamans stood together.
Dem had never seen them assembled in one place — painted from head to foot in colors ranging from muted earth to glaring crimson and gold.
Out of reflex and loyalty, his eye went straight to the white-painted form of the Swiftwind shaman.
"Would you come with us?" she asked gently. "It won't take long."
"Okay, dosu." Dem flashed Rave a quick grin. "Don't eat my breakfast."
The Swiftwind Shaman positioned Dem before the semicircle of painted figures. One by one, they stepped closer, studying him with the kind of focus usually reserved for omens.
Dem stood still, shoulders loose, dark eyes steady. There was no fear in him — only quiet attention.
"Is this about the hunt?" he asked.
The shamans murmured, and the Swiftwind shaman's lips curved. "What do you think?" she asked the others. Most of them had barely glimpsed the Swiftwind fosterling this whole Gathering — only whispers of him. Now they saw him clearly, and Dem could feel their curiosity prickling like heat.
A crimson-painted shaman stepped in first, leaning close enough to breathe him in.
"His blood is heavy," she murmured. "The scent of it is…" A pause, eyes brightening. "Uniting. I understand now. He makes my blood sing."
"Dangerous," an azure-painted Stonefall shaman countered. "Perhaps he should be sent away. Or have some of his blood drained until the effect lessens."
Dem slowly turned his head to look at her — calm, unblinking, with something disconcerting in the stillness of his gaze. The Swiftwind shaman moved instantly, placing a protective hand on his shoulder.
"No one is harming my dasai," she said, voice quiet but iron-solid. "You sense something unknown and fear it. I will say this plainly: whatever lurks within Demetri Swiftwind is no threat to the tribes. And yes… it is growing."
Dem didn't look away from the Stonefall shaman.
"You want to drain my blood?"
The azure-painted woman took half a step back. "You wouldn't die from such a thing."
"No," Dem said softly, "but you would."
He turned to the Swiftwind shaman. "Was there anything else, dosu?"
A hush fell, broken only when the shaman of Whitehill bowed.
"Demetri, the Whitehill Clan stands ready if you ever have need."
One after another, the rest echoed versions of the same promise — not alliances, but quiet declarations of support. Respect. Deference.
"Go prepare for your hunt, dasai." The Swiftwind shaman waited until Dem had walked far enough that even his keen ears would catch nothing.
Then she rounded on the Stonefall shaman.
"Saying such a thing was beyond reckless."
The azure shaman exhaled like she'd been drowning. "I only meant to discuss possibilities, not make a threat."
The Swiftwind shaman's voice softened, but not with kindness.
"Your short-sightedness earned his notice."
The azure shaman swallowed. "…I misspoke. I will make amends."
A short while later, Dem was choosing a mount from the Swiftwind remuda when Tam and Ai approached. He greeted them with a polite smile while looping the saddle strap beneath the mare's belly.
"I didn't get a chance to congratulate you on winning the archery competition, Tam."
Tam's dark face split into a wide grin. "Thank you! I heard you're going on the Huntmaster expedition."
Dem nodded as he tightened the girth. "I only found out this morning."
Ai stepped in, ruffling his hair before nudging him aside. "You see how loose this is already? Horses will puff their stomachs out when you try to cinch them. Just knee them once—they'll relax."
She tapped the mare's belly with her knee. The horse exhaled, letting Ai pull the strap tight."Just like that."
"Thank you, dosu." Dem mounted smoothly, settling into the saddle like it was second nature.
"I brought these for you," Tam said, holding out a quiver.
Dem took it, frowning at the arrowheads. "These aren't standard broadside tips."
Tam shook her head proudly. "I won them in the tournament. Rave added her Cold Steel enchantment."
"I can't take your winnings," Dem protested, trying to hand them back.
Tam danced out of reach. "Just return them when you're done. And if you do shoot—don't you dare miss!"
Dem laughed. "I'll try. Thank you, Tam."
Before either girl could say more, Huntmaster Dern thundered up on his mount."We're meeting the others south of the Gathering."
"Good luck, dasai!" Ai waved, beaming, as Dem and the Huntmaster rode off across the grasslands.