Squirt turned on her heel, her eyes unfocused in thought as she trotted over to the water’s edge. Bending down, she used a blade to cut some reeds, then returned to plop down on an open spot in the ground. Pulling out her sketch slate and a few clean glasslizard scales, she put them in front of her, her eyes unfocused and brows furrowed as she began to weave the reeds together.

  After a few minutes of realizing this was not a quick process, Tobias clapped his hands together twice. “Alright, come on, everyone. Hunter trainees, time for some sneaking practice.” Everyone groaned but followed him along to the edge of the tree line. They’d do circuits around the encampment just on the edge of the trees.

  Two of the full hunters joined them, the redcap and peppy shifter. The shadowfell had disappeared. The female fata stayed, her eyes fixed on Squirt’s seated form, whereas the last Queen-sent hunter returned to their tent.

  Squirt finished weaving together a basic handle and trigger mechanism, then scratched her head as she considered the scale before her.

  Glasslizard scales were closer to feathers than scaled skin like a snake, meaning that it was possible to pluck them like a bird—only the glass itself was delicate, making it easy to snap on accident. Squirt managed it with dexterity and gripping down at the very base of the scale, but Jul’s fingers were too big for that. Stalf had the same problem, but glasslizard scales had limited uses in the village. Most people didn’t need to see through illusions or wear eye protection from magical airborne irritants.

  The trick here would be to cut the scale off at the base, consistently. They were relatively oval, meaning that there weren’t good sharp edges or a point to cut against. A simple wind enchantment would do the cut, but the cut itself only needed to be as long and deep as her pinky fingernail.

  The more difficult part was the accuracy. Even on a singular glasslizard, there would be inconsistencies. Some areas had larger scales, like the neck and back, while others had smaller, more delicate scales, like their legs.

  The device needed to be able to grab a scale, cut, and drop it on command. Grabbing it would be relatively simple. The trigger she added based on crossbows could be used to trigger a pincher claw—two pieces that would come together when the trigger pulled, with flat parts to grab the top and bottom of the scale.

  Looking carefully, much like feathers, glass scales had a tip. A point where it came together on the creature’s flesh. Not plucking it or ripping them out would make collection easier because the creature wouldn’t die quite as quickly.

  Grabbing two sticks, she imagined how she would want them to work. The triggered enchantment could cause them to move forward, gliding along the edge of the hardened scale in a way it wouldn’t be able to with a feather, then cut when the two end bits were within a certain distance.

  She nodded to herself. Yeah. Only she’d need to add protection from the windblade for the rest of the scale. Water would be good for that. It could help prevent the scale from cracking even if the fey was rough with the device.

  Moving the pieces together how she imagined would work as a visual example, she thought through every step of the process. Line up. Pinch. Protect the scale. Glide along the edges. Cut at the tip.

  She frowned. There was the problem too of a fey not lining up the scale correctly. She ran through those scenarios, figuring out how much leeway she might be able to build into the device. How to trigger the cut.

  Realistically, follow the edge of the scale until a wall was met. Then she didn’t have to worry about calculations.

  Pulling out more glasslizard scales, she checked her hypothesis against them, confirming they were the shape she remembered. Oblong, yes, but they all had the same tip on one end where it had connected to the creature’s flesh.

  Yes. This would work. She took her little prototype, testing it out with the steps in mind on a selection of as widely varied scales as she could, noting any issues and making adjustments.

  Taking out her chalk, she began writing out calculations in runes. Crossing out lines. Replacing them. Grabbing the prototype and repeating the steps as she muttered under her breath a general cadence of speech without ever saying words. No one bothered her, but they did linger, often looking over her shoulder as they passed by.

  Not the water fata, Ala’ole. She kept her yellow eyes fixed on Squirt.

  A couple of hours passed, and the sun began to set, the rest finishing their training and starting on making dinner. Twice, Squirt stood, stretching her neck as she wrapped the handkerchief around her face, trotted over to look at the mushroom powder, and added more feystones to the devices.

  Then Squirt returned to the slate and materials, erasing and rewriting her work on the practice slate. Going back to the prototype to run her finger over a particular piece. Scratching her head or tugging on her hair. Murmuring. Then staring with stock stillness and unfocused eyes as she considered the problem. Then again. Then again.

  Tobias put a bowl of curry and rice out for her, but Squirt barely noticed, too absorbed in her work.

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  Normally, the others would sing songs or trade stories around the fire during dinner, but attempts at conversation soon fell quiet, their eyes always slowly finding their way back to the pixie with dark green hair and emerald eyes, her features softer than normal. Lost to her thoughts and, for once, unguarded.

  Squirt didn’t notice.

  The sun finished setting, darkness falling around them until she began to squint at her work.

  Paloka’s uncle stood, unobtrusively making his way over behind her before he raised a glowplant for her to read by.

  Squirt blinked at the sudden soft light illuminating her work, clearly confused with a daydream-like quality to her expression as she came out of her thoughts. Her eyes slowly followed the plant’s stem up to the pixie behind her, and he gave her a soft smile.

  She scowled, muttered, “Fuck off. I’m busy,” and went back to her work.

  The pest sighed but obeyed.

  Her eyes, against her wishes, followed him as he walked away, his hands in his pockets and his form hunched in resigned acceptance.

  Then she dropped her eyes back to her work, glaring and silently admonishing herself.

  It was likely over an hour later, late enough some of those at the fire started to nod off, when she finally made a move.

  She put the glasslizard scales back in her bag, then pulled out the enchanting slate, the gold paint and paintbrush, a fistful of silver and blue feystones, another fistful of silver feathers, the raw materials for the base object of wood and iron, and then a fistful of earth tree leaves.

  Ala’ole approached until she was standing close enough to see the runes on the slate, frowning as she read them. She didn’t speak, knowing better than to interrupt an enchanter.

  Squirt ignored her as she did everyone else, focusing her intent on each painstakingly written rune as they swirled and glided from one to the next.

  The mixing bowls finally came to a stop as she worked. The others started gathering around, and when the excitable and peppy shifter tried to say something, the others covered her mouth and shushed her. Not even the redcap tried to draw away the pixie’s attention.

  Squirt reached the end, pulling back and wiping sweat from her brow with a contented sigh. Washing off the brush, she capped the liquid gold and returned it carefully to her pouch.

  Then, she stopped, a painful shame on her face as she stared down at the slate.

  Squirt cleared her throat, then did it again, realizing she hadn’t spoken or had any water for a good number of hours. “Just… step back. Don’t get any closer.” She paused, hunching her shoulders a bit as the barest hint of a plea entered her voice. “Give me space.”

  They all took steps back.

  For several long seconds, Squirt didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t do anything. Shifting to her knees, she rocked a little, wiping her hands on her trousers and grimacing.

  Her eyes lifted to the water fata, her resolve solidifying against the sudden panic.

  All Squirt had ever wanted was a chance to prove herself. And she’d be damned if she let fear and shame stop her now, not in front of all these powerful fey.

  Visibly swallowing, she dropped her eyes down to the materials, held her hands over the slate, and took a deep breath. As her hands made contact, emerald wings appeared at her back.

  They were misshapen. Through them both ran massive cracks and scars that ran almost all the way up, the implication of their existence obvious. The left one had not healed right, the lower two quadrants lined up offset of each other and dragging the whole wing down. The right had healed a little better, the lines more or less lined up, but it had scars that went horizontal, too.

  Someone hadn’t just tried to cut her wings off.

  Someone had slowly shredded them with the intent of cutting them off.

  Squirt put all of those fey, all of those bitter memories as far from her mind as she could, instead focusing every ounce of intention on the runes. One at a time, she held the image she wanted in her head as she went over each rune with her magic, feeding it the components at the required steps.

  Sweat poured down her face and she panted, her arms beginning to shake from the strain, her wings attempting to flutter as even their glow was uneven.

  The glow from between her hands faded as she finished, and only when it was complete did she fall forward, gasping and shaking from the strain on her body.

  The others all held their breath as Squirt righted herself, holding a device not unlike a hand crossbow. Two pinchers sat in the middle, while two wider, curved ones stood horizontally, like guards for the user’s hands instead of the bow.

  Pulling out a glasslizard scale, still sounding breathy from exertion, Squirt held the scale out by the tip. “Scale goes here. Squeeze the trigger to pinch it, then,” she squeezed the trigger and moved her fingers out of the way as the two side pieces moved forward, sliding along the edge of the scale and cutting off the little extra tip on it.

  Tilting it, she then released the trigger and caught the fallen scale in her open, waiting hand, then held the device out for the water fata to grab. Ala’ole stepped forward, accepting the device and inspecting every inch with meticulous care.

  Squirt, clearly exhausted, shifted off her knees to sit cross legged, finally grabbing the bowl of curry and eating it.

  Jul cleared his throat as he approached, awkwardly holding out a hand to her bowl.

  Suspicious, she eyed him, clinging to the bowl a little possessively.

  He scowled and glanced away with his shoulders hunched. “Just… I can warm it for you.”

  She chewed her bite slowly, mulling over his offer before she finally held out the bowl.

  The water fata slowly shifted to crouch, holding her hand over Squirt’s practice plate. “May I?”

  Squirt gestured vaguely. “Knock yourself out.” Then accepted her bowl back from Jul, sniffing it.

  Jul muttered, “I heated it, I didn’t burn it.”

  “I wasn’t checking for burning.”

  His brows furrowed before his eyes widened and his lips pressed together in a firm line.

  Squirt kept her eyes down, kicking herself for saying anything. Damn these titled fey, they freaked out over every tiny thing. Yes, yes, it was a common trick bad fey would play on greenlings, dosing their food with various poisons or drugs as entertainment.

  Among other reasons.

  Squirt had to force those thoughts away once again to focus on the food in her mouth before it turned to ash.

  Finally, Ala’ole nodded to herself. “Yes. This is quite good.”

  Something in Squirt visibly relaxed before she nodded, not answering directly as no question was asked.

  Ala’ole then took it a step further. “Indeed. I wish to offer my Family to you.”

  Squirt froze, her eyes slowly lifting to the utterly serious woman’s eyes.

  … what?

  “You need not answer now. After all, I will need to prove to you the worthiness of my Family in more than just name. But I, Ala’ole of House Valof, extend my Family to you in offer as an equal member, one of our cherished Creators and protected with all due dignity.”

  The woman then placed the slate and the tool down on the ground, nodded respectfully in goodbye, and left for her tent like she hadn’t had just offered Squirt the bargain of a lifetime.