Archive of Our Own

Alder (a few months old)

The morning was baking beneath the midsummer sun. As Inej trekked across the bog road, the marsh steamed around her. The dew lifted in clouds, providing a bare mist of relief from the heat when she passed through them.

She was deep inside one such obscuring vapour when she heard a bird crying in distress. A finch, by the sound of it.

For a few moments, she did nothing, listening in hope that it would stop. It did not. It grew louder and slowly closer, but when Inej drew level with the noise, she found it was not along the path. She would have to venture into the marsh if she wanted to help the poor creature.

Briar looked comfortable and content tucked in her scarf, looking for all the world as if she hadn’t woken Inej eight times throughout the night. Inej judged her able to cope with a little detour. 

Grasping her skirts in her free hand, she hoisted them above her ankles and stepped off the path onto a hillock. Her foot sank a little, but did not disappear into muddy water. From one to the next, Inej slowly moved across the bog until she came to the base of an alder tree. Craning her neck, she caught a flapping motion high in the tree’s branches. 

The trees were thin out here, and this alder looked to have taken advantage of the space, growing taller and stouter than many alders Inej had seen. The bird, on the other hand, looked on the small side, perhaps a siskin. What was the commotion about?

She would not be able to see from down here, nor help it. That would require an ascent. 

The weight of Briar tied to her chest held her still. It had been a few months since she had last been among the branches of a tree, and trying it with an altered centre of gravity would have been needlessly risky.

Her friends should be able to take care of it, Inej told herself firmly, but the words rang hollow. She knew it’dd be too late by the time Nina or Jesper got here. The hawks around these parts were fat with the spoils of summer; they did not need an extra supper.

Inej looked uneasily around the steaming marsh and made her decision: she would have to be quick. Unwinding the scarf from around her, she supported Briar’s warm body with one hand before placing down the basket she carried. Gently, Briar nestled into the scarf inside the basket. Then, to be sure, Inej pushed the handle this way and that to check that the little hillock was steady amongst the marshy waters. 

With her sights fixed firmly on the next hillock, Inej neatly jumped the gap across the bog to the base of the tree, landing with a squelch. Then she stood on one leg to undo one of her boots, carefully tucking the laces and sock inside, before repeating for the other foot. 

With a final check back at her happily sleeping daughter, Inej curled her fingertips over two knobbles protruding from the alder trunk and began to climb. 

The moment she began moving, Inej felt like she could breathe properly again. 

It had been so long. 

Even pulling onto the lowest branch, jumping to catch it and pulling herself up onto the thigh-thick limb with no small effort, felt like a miracle. The easier step up as she pulled holds above her head and moved to the next slim branch felt even more wondrous. As the trunk branched in two, she had to balance her weight between the halves and shuffle her hands up—a delicate feat of gymnastics. The two slowly moved away from each other until finally, one branched again. Inej hooked her hand solidly through the gap and then pulled her body over and up.

It took an awkward moment to situate her feet comfortably. From up here, her weight would be able to sway the tree one way or the other, so a good footing was essential. 

Between the round, indented leaves, Inej peered down at her baby. Briar was safely tucked away still, looking so peaceful that Inej might not hear a peep from her if the basket were to be picked up by a sudden high current and she floated away to be taken by the fairies. The thought was not reassuring. 

Inej shook herself and shifted her gaze to the branch where the bird chattered. She could see now that she had been correct: its feathers were the yellow and grey of a siskin. They were marred, however, with dribbles of blood. The hawks must have already found this finch. 

“Will you let me help?” Inej murmured. The bird chittered nervously, but had slowed its calls of alarm.

With slow feet, she moved a little higher in the vee of the branches. One hand tentatively stretched as far along the branch as she could reach. 

The bird hopped away with a squeak, but kept its beady black eyes on her, considering. Inej calmed her breaths, ignoring the ache in her calf that this position brought, and stayed still. 

A breeze caressed her face with blessed coolness. When the siskin made two tentative hops towards her, Inej slipped a sprig of berries from her pocket with her left hand and murmured a few words in Suli. The bird calming spell worked quickly and the siskin’s eyes sank closed. 

Ever so gently, Inej lifted the bird by grasping the tops of its legs and drawing it towards her. She stepped back down into the vee before tucking the siskin into her pocket and methodically climbing back down until her feet sank into damp grass. 

Tipping her head back, Inej regarded the unremarkable alder. It looked tall once more, and the only sign that she had climbed inside it was the sense of achievement in her chest. 

It felt a little silly to be so proud of an unremarkable ascent. Inej tried not to let her prideful younger self chase away this victory. She had spent so many years scampering up after her parents and cousins, and many more running away from them to find her own tree as they travelled all over Ravka. A moderate alder like this would have been nothing to her eight-year-old self.

She had always been at home in the trees, light of foot and unaffected by heights. The blackbirds and bees she met in branches had been her friends, and her heart was fullest when she balanced among the slimmest, waving branches at the crown of a tree. From there, she could survey a kingdom of hills and future woodland conquests, the caravan crawling like ants at her feet. The only feeling that beat it was the anticipation of the approach, her solo journey to the top where it was just her and the tree and no-one else. 

Such pleasures had been put to the side when she was lost as a teenager, then rediscovered as she travelled Ravka and Kerch and settled in the Ridderbrug forest. A dormant seed inside her had sprouted once more and flowered. 

But she was a mother now, looking after a promised child and by extent, neglecting the forest she had tended so long. The treetops she had once known were distant acquaintances once more—or they had been, until today. 

Maybe she didn’t need to completely avoid getting up in the trees because of the baby. Today had been a success, with no cries to be heard. Kaz might not be happy about Briar being left while her mama scaled trees, but Inej intended to climb with Briar throughout her childhood. This was the Suli way. In time, Briar would come to love these trees as Inej did. For now, she would stay on the ground.

Her two charges stayed comfortably tucked up in their blanketed basket all the way home. 

Hazel (1 year old)

The deer had learned to keep away from the hazel in the woods surrounding Blackthorn Cottage. It had taken years to successfully develop a warding charm that was specific to large herbivores as well as strong enough to keep them away all year round. 

Inej was pleased that these precious trees were no longer routinely damaged. The previous year, with Briar needing feeding so frequently, she had been unable to see to the coppicing. This year, her daughter was toddling and tolerated longer trips out. Inej was determined they would not neglect the forest for another year. 

She intended to catch up on last year’s hazel groves as well as those scheduled for this year, but it would take several trips. Jesper was supposed to meet her over the stream to the east of Sunflower Cottage this afternoon, but Inej wanted to make a start. Weeks of sleet with a manic toddler had her nearly running out of the door with her daughter when the clouds finally cleared. 

They would have to return to the cottage for lunch and Briar’s nap before meeting Jesper; she was too fussy to sleep outdoors. Inej remembered napping outdoors all the time, and her cousins too, but perhaps she had been a few years older. The passage of time muddied such memories. 

Inej had each of her arms through the leg of a sled, its rope dangling down to slap her legs. Her large knives and small axes were carefully sheathed at her belt, a length of rope across her shoulders. She had worn her cloak, but the late spring sunshine was warmer than she had realised it would be. Toddling beside her, despite the child’s slow pace, Briar was already coated in a thin sheen of sweat. 

By the time they arrived, Inej’s sleeves were rolled up and her shirt gaping at the collar. Briar chattered away to the birds in her toddler babble from her mama’s arms, her little legs tiring too quickly for her to walk all the way there. When Inej gently placed her on the ground, she immediately ran off towards the chirrups of nesting long-tailed tits. 

“Not that way, meja ,” Inej called, running after her daughter and turning her around with a grip on her shoulders. Gleefully, Briar turned Inej around and around again, making various attempts to escape between her mama’s legs. She was only diverted from this when Inej produced a small wooden ball, which was immediately seized for closer examination.

The catkins had fallen from the hazel: it was ready for coppicing.  As she discarded her cloak, Inej watched a pale caterpillar inching along a thin branch towards small, hairy leaves. It might find itself far from this clearing by the afternoon if it clung on tightly. 

The distinct thwump of a toddler falling in a pile of leaves pulled her attention away again. Briar had tripped on a rotting log, her face creasing and lower lip trembling as she decided whether or not to cry. 

“Oh dear, did we take a tumble?” Inej bent to inspect her daughter’s knee, and on finding it unharmed gave a little rub for reassurance. “You’re okay, bibi. ”

After another second’s contemplation, Briar picked herself up on slightly wobbly legs and immediately ran off in the same direction with a detour around the log. Inej sighed. Clearly, Briar had the spirit of a rabbit today. A different tool was required to keep her close.

With a quick slice and some clever knots, Inej created a small harness of rope. It was a moment’s work to swoop down on Briar and slide the harness over her arms, securing the loops around her shoulders. Her daughter was not a stranger to being tied up like a goat or a pony, so she wriggled only a little before accepting her fate to wander only within five yards of the hazel coppice, tossing her ball on the ground and then burying through leaves to find it.

Metal drew against leather with a satisfying sensation as Inej unsheathed the bigger of the two axes she had brought and weighed it in her hand. Neither were particularly large, but after an evening spent beside the fire with her whetstone, both were well sharpened. 

A final check showed that Briar was occupied in sifting through the leaf litter a short distance away. Inej hefted her axe, altered her body position a little, and swung.

The thwack of metal meeting wood brought a visceral satisfaction. After only a few swings, Inej found herself breathing more heavily from the effort. The soft green scent of cut hazel was already in the air, and the wood grain of the axe fitted against her palm as neatly as she remembered. With each whistling swing of the axe, another branch fell to the floor.

By the time her daughter became interested in the growing hazel, Inej was sweating through her shift. She flopped down to the forest floor and pulled out a waterskin, daydreaming about previous springs coppicing. In her memory, a good day’s work grew to two dozen groves. Now—well, she didn’t remember being this sweaty before. Certainly not this slow.

Inej abruptly jerked around when she realised Briar was not in her line of sight. She saw her daughter was trying to bite one of the remaining hazel branches so Inej pushed herself up with a frown. 

“Briar , stop that!”

The toddler looked up at her and then tried again, prompting Inej to pick her up and swing her down several feet away. Immediately, her daughter pushed up on her little legs and ran back to the hazel to begin gnawing again.

Clearly, this would devolve into a game if she continued removing her. Inej rolled her eyes—a habit Nina insisted she had picked up from Kaz—and decided to continue coppicing smaller branches around the other side of the tree. There was no terrible risk to Briar if she accidentally ingested some hazel and it was probably what her mother would call an ‘enriching experience’.

She had scarcely taken three swings at the hazel when Briar threw herself towards the tree with a screech. Cursorily bending to wipe her blade, Inej sheathed her axe and crouched down to see what the matter was, but there was no obvious injury or upset she could identify. Gently, Inej pried her daughter free but Briar ran back, hugging the branches and babbling “no, no!”. 

The pieces connected. Her daughter, who loved the forest as much as she did, was protective over the tree. Pride and fondness welled in Inej, that Briar should feel so strongly about preserving the hazel.

“Do you not want me to chop any more branches?” she murmured. 

With a wobbling lip, Briar wrapped her arms tighter around the tree. It was enough to make Inej’s heart ache. She hated disappointing her daughter, and every time she did, she felt like the worst mother in Kerch. But this was for her own good, and the forest’s too. 

“But we have to, meja ,” Inej explained gently. “To keep the tree healthy, we have to cut it back every seven years. It will grow again, like the vegetables do.” 

This did not appease her. Inej remembered belatedly that Briar had been much younger during the harvest so she might not understand the comparison. 

“Look,” she said, standing and grasping Briar’s hand. “Over here, there’s a tree I cut back three or four years ago now. See how the branches are growing back? It doesn’t hurt the tree.”

When Inej made to walk in that direction, Briar burst into tears. Her wails were pitiful enough to draw sobs from a log, and Inej immediately bent to wrap her in a big hug. She patted her back and murmured soothing sounds until sobs turned to sniffles. 

Pulling a rag from her pocket, Inej drew back and carefully wiped Briar’s ruddy nose and cheeks. Where would they go from here? 

There wouldn’t be any more coppicing, she decided, not while it was just the two of them. Inej waited to feel the sting of disappointment, but none came. Coppicing brought her satisfaction, and she was glad to be able to return to it in some form, but watching Briar explore the forest floor brought her joy.

Hopefully, when they met up with Jesper, she could try explaining again what it meant to cut trees for their own good. With one of them coppicing and the other holding the toddler, it should be easier. 

And if Briar didn’t understand today—well, there was always next year, and the one after that. Inej could be patient. It had taken a long time to teach Briar that it was not okay to throw food on the floor, and she still sometimes did it. When the time came for toilet training, she expected another battle. But this was what it was to bring up a child. In seven years, when they were next coppicing this tree, Briar would understand. The seven years of growth would take the hazel from naked stumps to flourishing, productive branches once again. She had to hope that her daughter would be so too.

Briar squirmed away from the rag, her face now dry. Inej let her go, and she ran back towards the tree. 

It was ridiculous, really—they would doubtless pass by here in the next seven years. But for a moment, Inej could not shake off the shadow that fell over her, cast by the colossus of the future. It held so much uncertainty and danger. How had she ever thought herself up to the task of raising a child, moulding another person? Would every day always bring so many difficult decisions?

Briar’s golden curls and toothy grin reappeared around the hazel as she squealed with delight, pointing to the ground. Inej joined her, following her daughter’s line of sight to where a shiny green and black beetle scuttled across the leaf litter.

The vice gripping her heart loosened. Inej reached forwards and scooped up the beetle to show Briar, who followed in awe as it crawled up her arm then took flight into the canopy. 

They watched its path for a moment before Inej turned to her daughter.

“Shall we play?”

Briar’s face broke into a wide grin. “Pay!” she agreed excitedly. 

“I’m coming to get you!” Inej sang, prompting a squeal from Briar. She ran slow steps around the ring of hazel stumps, arms outstretched towards her delighted daughter. Briar’s gleeful giggles echoed around the clearing, her curls bouncing as she weaved away on her stocky legs. 

Each chase ended with a hug, prompting more laughter and enthusiastic escape attempts until Briar’s mirth sluiced away her dark doubts. One game at a time. That was how they would conquer each day.

Copper Beech (3 years old)

Inej stood at the foot of a copper beech, on well-manicured grass, and peered up. She tried to keep the distaste from creeping across her face, well aware of the eyes of an interested footman and disgruntled gardener on her. 

“It’s very large for such a young tree,” Inej said at last, turning to the gardener. “You must have tended it very well, Mr Boker.”

The gardener gave a nod, his gaze darting to the footman and back again. Indeed, Inej was struggling to keep her eyes off him, though likely for a different reason—his uniform was rather gaudy. She couldn’t decide whether the footman’s purple and red clothing trimmed with frills looked more ridiculous than the purple cariacature of a beech tree on the lawn in front of the house. Blackthorn Cottage, with its decidedly green trees, felt a lot further than eight miles away.

“The tree is a particular favourite of Lord De Hochepied’s,” the footman told her. “He is a very keen horticulturalist. He chose this specimen and several others from a very clever laboratory on the Ravkan border with the Shu Han.”

“The same with these varieties of maple,” Mr Boker added, his voice a rough burr to the smoothness of the footman’s.

“They’re so… bright,” Inej said, staring at the two small trees she could see. Their leaves were very similar in shape to the maple she was familiar with, but their colours—such vivid shades of crimson she had rarely seen in leaves before. Much smaller trees, too. Beautiful, in an exotic way. 

The footman nodded graciously. “They’re doing well. It’s the copper beech that concerns the master currently. So much bark disappearing is quite unusual, he has said.”

“Yes,” Inej agreed, peering up again at the patches of damaged trunk where the inner wood was exposed. “I’ve not seen it in the woodland nearby, but I have seen it on my travels.” She turned to look at the gardener. “You’ve treated it for beech bark disease?” she asked. 

“Of course. All the root-rotters I could think of, too,” he grunted. “Nothing’s helped. I got the lad to go up a bit but he couldn’t see any evidence of over-pecking, so the Lord thought it might be good to get some fresh eyes on it.”

Inej looked down at Briar, who was sat neatly cross-legged a few feet away and pulling up the grass one clump at a time as she sang a little song to herself, the words and tune unidentifiable. She was well-used to accompanying her mama on trips around the countryside, and generally behaved herself very well. Still, it always helped to give a disclaimer. 

“This is Briar,” Inej told the two men as she shucked off her cloak and began unpicking her laces. “She’s my daughter. Could you let me know if she wanders off? She doesn’t usually, but… well, they know how to pick their moments, don’t they?”

The footman gave a stiff quirk of the head and the gardener grunted, satisfying Inej. Leaving her daughter with strangers for short periods was an unpleasant necessity for some aspects of her work, but she trusted in the Kerch sense of duty and their exposed position on the lawn to keep them honest. The high number of protective spells that she and Kaz cast over Briar helped too. He also disliked Briar’s provision of care while she worked, but since he was usually unable to leave Kleine Magie to help, it was an argument she always won.

Inej toed off her boots and then pulled off her socks, grateful that she had chosen to wear the shorter garment today. She would rather have navigated the tree in her boots than attempt to shed stockings in front of strange men on a gentleman’s lawn, but it would necessitate more care and consequently longer in the tree.

She left her things in a neat pile before ducking under the leaves to reach the trunk. It was dark here, the glossy purple leaves blocking a lot of the natural light. The soles of her feet were prickled by beech nuts as she ran her hands along the silvery bark. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, before opening them again and stepping towards the lowest branch. 

Inej wrapped her right hand over its base and stood on tiptoes to reach her left hand over its higher neighbour. With an easy pull, she lifted herself upwards, her right foot coming to land just behind her right hand. Then she trailed her hands along the trunk as she slowly stood up, snaking her body to the right to avoid a branch another few feet up. 

The tree’s darkness was of a different quality to the darkness of a spruce or yew; the branches were well-spaced rather than densely gathered, the darkness coming from the strange, dark leaves. If she closed her eyes and climbed, Inej thought, it would feel just like a regular beech—a tree that she loved. Their wood was strong, their soft leaves could be used to relieve swelling, and when clipped, the trees provided a wonderful screen for birds against the outside world. Also, beech nuts were delicious roasted. 

She could learn to love this copper bastardisation, she told herself firmly as she took a step onto the next branch. Continuing, she cast her eyes around to see if she disturbed any animals. It would doubtless fulfil all those same needs, even if it was a blotch on a forest’s colours. Those same colours were found in old plums, after all. She could come to tolerate it if the copper beech spread to her woods. 

Once she was steady on the next branch, her left foot comfortably wedged between the trunk and the branch, Inej could better evaluate the patches of missing bark. They were extensive up here, almost as much pale inner wood exposed as there was grey bark. She peered closer. Indeed, as Mr Boker’s apprentice had noted, there didn’t appear to be insect damage or the marks of a beak, but this was certainly no disease—it looked distinctly like an animal had caused it, likely with teeth.

But what animal? 

A kerfuffle below interrupted her investigation. Inej peered through the branches and caught sight of Briar balancing on the roots, her arms stretched upwards as she wailed. “Mama! Mama Mama!”

“What is it, meja ?” Inej called, her heart sinking. 

“I want up!” Briar declared. 

“You can’t come up right now, Mama will be with you—”

Briar screeched again. “I want up! Up tree!” She paused. “Up THE tree!”

“Good girl,” Inej called down, just about remembering to praise Briar’s grammatical correction through her divided attention.

Her daughter began whining at a high pitch, a sure sign that she would soon begin crying. Inej sighed and slipped down, branch to branch, until she jumped from the lowest branch and landed softly between the beech roots. 

Sure enough, Briar’s face was pink and her eyes watery. She stretched her arms towards Inej. “Up, Mama! I want up!”

“What do you want to go up?” Inej asked, squatting down.

Briar’s little face pinched in thought. “I want…to go up…the tree.”

“Good girl! Well done!” With a backwards glance at the two waiting servants, Inej swung Briar into her arms and sat her on the lowest branch, only removing her grip once Briar pushed at her. Though she hovered vigilantly, her blonde-haired child stayed seated with excellent balance.

“Did you find anything, Ma’am?” the footman asked her, approaching gingerly. 

“Not yet,” Inej told him, not drawing her gaze from Briar. “I believe it’s bite marks but— Briar! No!”

Her daughter ignored her, stepping up onto the next branch with great determination across her chubby face. With a whispered curse, Inej pulled herself back up into the tree, her feet landing on the branch just as Briar tipped forwards. She snagged the back of Briar’s cardigan but not before her daughter slipped onto her bottom, exclaiming as she banged her leg. 

“Are you okay, bibi? ” Inej asked, stepping over this branch to crouch on the next. She let go of Briar’s cardigan only once she had an arm in front of her. 

Two tears shone on Briar’s cheeks but she was transfixed on something further down the branch. Inej followed her gaze, her eyes widening at what she saw. 

A rodent stared at them, its bushy tail puffed behind. A little larger than a squirrel and grey rather than cedar-coloured, it was otherwise remarkably similar.

When neither Inej nor Briar made a move towards it, the grey squirrel gnawed at a beech nut. From the flash of its teeth, Inej’s suspicions were confirmed: this rodent was the copper beech’s blight. 

Briar suddenly lurched towards it, her arms outstretched. The squirrel took off, leaping higher into the tree, and her daughter’s smile turned down. 

“Where it gone, Mama?”

“Back to its home in the tree. Can you see it?” Inej pointed towards where the rodent scuttled along a higher branch.

“I follow it?”

“Not right now,” Inej reasoned. “It’s too high up.”

“Mama high up,” Briar argued, trying to shuffle along the branch towards the trunk. “Mama climb.”

“I did, but now Mama is going back to the ground.”

Briar grasped a branch near her head with a familiar look of determination on her face. Inej restrained a sigh. “I like tree,” her daughter insisted.

“And the tree likes you, but Mama needs to talk to these gentlemen.” She tugged on Briar’s arm but her daughter yanked away. 

“Mama needs you to be a good girl,” she tried again, injecting more authority into her words. Briar only harrumph ed, turning to hug the trunk as she wiggled her legs.

“You’re not a squirrel, Briar,” Inej said sternly. “You’re a girl, and girls stay on the ground.”

Saying the words sat like algae in her belly. Her parents had never put such restrictions on her, even if they had directed her to certain trees more appropriate for her to climb until her skill grew enough to tackle all boughs. She should have been more persuasive, used other tactics to get Briar to the ground.

Being the good girl that she was at heart, Briar considered this before reluctantly releasing the tree and holding out her arms. Inej pulled her daughter towards her, waiting for her small arms to lock around her neck before swinging down towards the ground. She imagined leaving her words behind them in the tree, never to be repeated. She could only hope Briar would not remember.

Hopefully Lord De Hochepied would spare no expense on preventing the rodent from spreading, or there would be another pest to contend with in the forest. Or maybe Briar could spot them all and save him the trouble.

Lime (4 years old)

“I think it’s time for Briar to learn to climb,” Inej told Kaz one morning.

She had not picked the best time to re-open this topic—Kaz was haphazardly piling dishes by the sink on his way out the door—but it could wait no longer. 

He made only a dismissive noise, using a spoon to quickly scrape off solidifying porridge in his soaking bowl. An unlikely flash of colour at his elbow caught Inej’s eye before she could make any kind of response to that noise. She pinched his sleeve to examine it. Kaz twisted towards her with a frown before swearing when he spotted the offending stain. He immediately tossed off his waistcoat and suspenders and started unbuttoning his shirt. 

“This is the only clean shirt I’ve got left,” he grumbled. “What is that?”

“It might be elderberry,” Inej murmured, circling back to her mortar and pestle on the table. “I did tell Briar to put them in a bowl but—”

“But they were left on the table anyway.” Kaz sighed, pulling off his shirt. He dipped the sleeve in water and picked up the bar of soap. As he bent over the scrubbing, Inej found herself distracted by his arms, his shoulders, his back—all exposed by the thin material of his undershirt. His hair, not yet gelled back into the slick style he favoured for work, fell onto his face as he bent over, intent on his task. 

For a moment, Inej let herself stare before looking away, heat rising to her cheeks. Busying herself in the grinding of herbs, she chastised herself. Such feelings, for Kaz of all people, were sure to sour their established partnership and budding friendship. She would put this image out of her mind and it would pass. 

It was an effort to remember what she so desperately needed to discuss with him. Briar—the trees—yes— 

“She would have been climbing for years if she had been brought up Suli,” Inej persisted. 

“We aren’t with the Suli,” Kaz reminded her, mouth set in a firm line. 

They had rehashed this argument half a dozen times in the past year. Each time before, it had ended with Inej backing down. Today, however, she finally had a new reason in favour of teaching Briar to climb trees properly. 

“Before, she would sometimes try to climb and then not bother again for ten days. But every day this week, she’s been trying to pull herself into trees. Sometimes she’s succeeding, and then she gets stuck.” 

Kaz was silent for a moment, rubbing the sleeve against itself as the soap slowly lathered. In the other room, Briar was humming as she worked on the primer Inej had given her. Using a slate and chalk still felt precious to Inej; her caravan all learned their letters using stubs of charcoal on the back of old posters. She and Kaz had impressed the delicacy of the implements onto Briar when she began these lessons a few months ago, and at least for now, she was careful with her slate.

She had proven herself quick to learn, and Inej’s mind was made up. Climbing lessons would begin today, even if Kaz’s hesitation indicated uncertainty. This was too important. She wouldn’t give in again.

“She’s going to climb one way or another,” she told him. “I want her to be able to do it safely.”

Eventually, he sighed. “Fine.” 

Excitement spread through her so suddenly that she clapped her hands together with a very uncommon squeal, ducking towards the parlour. “But only if she’s supervised,” Kaz called after her. Inej merely flapped a hand in his direction. She would get to take to the treetops with her daughter today, and it buoyed her on a wave of elation.

“Briar!” Her daughter paused as Inej rushed in, looking up from her clumsy letters. Inej caught up her spare hand, unable to contain a wide grin.

“How would you like to climb trees this afternoon?”

Briar’s face lit up. “Yes! Yes yes yes! Can we go now?”

“You have to finish your lesson first, but—”

“Please, Mama?”

The cobweb of her restraint snapped. “Okay,” she whispered, “let’s go.”

Briar cheered and slid out of her seat, nearly knocking her slate to the floor in her excitement. Inej fumbled to catch it, placing the half-finished primer back on the table before running after her daughter. Oh, they were going to have fun!

As the two of them put on their outerwear, Kaz buttoned his shirt up, occasionally casting them bemused glances when he thought Inej could not see. She didn’t spoil his fun, biting down on her smile. 

It was doubly hard to contain her mirth when she spotted his distinctly soggy elbow. The sleeve was wrinkled where he had rinsed out the water and still a little pink-stained. Parenthood had forced them both to become used to such small embarrassments and mishaps. 

“Where will you take her?” Kaz asked as Inej tugged at her stubborn bootlaces.

“I was thinking the west woods, near the fern hollow. There’s some really lovely climbing trees around there.”

Kaz nodded, fiddling with his cuffs. He looked like he wanted to say something else—a frog on his tongue, as the Ravkans would say—but he stayed quiet until Briar was on the garden path and Inej half out of the door.

“Keep her safe, Inej.”

She turned around and smiled. “Of course,” she said indulgently. “Don’t catch a chill from your wet clothes.”

As the door swung shut, she caught one magnificent eye roll from Kaz. Then she chased Briar towards the trees.

~*~

If Inej had ever stopped to dream of teaching her child to climb, she would probably have imagined the scene something like this: one solemn figure standing at the bottom of a great tree, one smaller figure carefully scaling its boughs, each instruction followed with precision. Such were the memories from her childhood when she learned the craft of arboreal acrobatics. 

Once she stood in the forest, gazing up at the trees with Briar hopping with glee beside her, she realised that scenario was not to pass—for many reasons. 

Climbing was not knitting, each stitch learned in turn. Trees were living, complex creatures, and climbing was not a wholly unknown skill for Briar. This process would be ongoing for a long time as her confidence, strength and power built. 

But to start… well, a lime tree was very fitting. 

“Do you know what tree this is, bibi ?” 

Briar craned her neck, squinting at the leaves high above. “Beech?”

“No.”

“Lime?”

“Yes, good girl. Do you remember what we do with lime trees?”

Briar squirmed, fidgeting with her dress. “No-o-o…”

“We use the flowers for calming and coughs, and the bees make lovely honey.” Inej began to walk around the tree, taking in every angle of the beautiful boughs this tree bore. “In Ravka, limes are usually planted at the centre of a village, and we would dance under them in May.”

“Really?”

“Yes. They are a holy symbol of honour and family, so sometimes people marry or settle disputes beneath them.”

“Wow,” Briar breathed, agog, as she trailed her Mama around the gentle giant. When they passed a particularly low-hanging branch, she snatched at one of the large leaves and giggled—at the softness or sticky residue, Inej wasn’t sure—before gently releasing it the way she had been taught.

“Mama, can we dance with our village tree?” Briar begged as they arrived back at the spot where they had begun.

“There isn’t one in the village here,” Inej reminded her. “That’s in Ravka, where I grew up. There, trees are sacred. To the Kerch, trees are just lumber.”

An oversimplification, to be sure, but buried in truth. Her daughter’s brow furrowed, a look of consternation that strongly resembled Kaz’s for a second. Then it shifted, becoming pure Briar once again. 

“I want to dance around the tree.”

“We’re climbing the tree right now, meja . ”

Briar’s face brightened. “I want to climb the tree!”

“You will,” Inej laughed. “But first, you have to find where you can climb into the branches. Can you see one low enough?”

Briar scampered off, giving a shout for her mama when she realised the branch she had earlier caressed was near enough her height. 

“Good finding,” Inej said, following over. “Now, can you jump and—oh, well done!” Her daughter swung from the bough, but it bowed under her weight until Briar dropped off, holding her hands out in front of her with a frown.

“Shall we try again, nearer the trunk?” Inej suggested. “It will be stronger there, so you can climb up.” She strode forwards and pointed. “Over here, meja. ”

With a shake of her hands, Briar was ready to try again. It took longer each time before her boots hit the roots, but still Briar could not stick the climb into the branches proper. Inej began to question the sense of choosing this particular tree for her daughter’s first lesson. She had overestimated the strength of Briar’s shoulders, underestimated the size of the knot for a foothold, tested her fortitude too harshly—

Just as Inej finally made up her mind to shepherd her tired daughter away from the lime when next she fell, the child surged upwards to grab a branch. With a determined grunt, she pushed off her toes on the tricky knot and threw her free arm around a bough. Inej’s eyes widened and she immediately seized the low branches and pulled herself up, her heart in her mouth. Briar had not yet managed to get this far, but her sloppiness of execution risked injury to her head if she fell now. Some falls were to be encouraged, but not this one.

She need not have worried. With a great heave, Briar wriggled her belly onto the branch. For a moment, she lay panting, hair dangling down one side of it and her feet the other. Then she gave a determined swing of her leg, and suddenly, she was astride the lime branch and grinning ear to ear.

“Mama, Mama! I did it! I did it!”

“You did!” Inej laughed in joy, clasping her hands together. “My strong girl, well done!”

Without a second thought, she bounced on her toes and pulled herself into the branches. She slowed her movements after a moment, mindful of her daughter’s feelings. With a careful step around Briar, Inej slid down to sit on the branch. Then she reached over and gently pulled her close, kissing the top of her strawberry-gold curls. 

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmured. 

“Me too!” Briar exclaimed. Inej laughed, letting her go. 

“Good. You should be.”

They sat on the branch for a long time—at least, a long time for a four-year-old to sit still, probably in the region of three minutes. Briar was looking all around the tree, entranced with the birds’ nest above and the free swing of her feet above the ground. She looked very right here, and Inej’s heart was filled with a deep contentment. 

“I want to live here forever,” Briar breathed. 

Inej took a deep breath of the sweet scented air and closed her eyes. “Me too.” 

A second later, the branch shook and Inej’s eyes shot open. Briar was standing up by the trunk and reaching over for another branch, intent on higher boughs. They weren’t far, so Inej stood up to watch her go, muscles tensed and ready to spring if her daughter needed her. 

Perhaps she should have given Kaz more credit: teaching Briar to climb might be a riskier endeavour than she had thought. Not enough danger to deter her, though. Briar was a curious child in a forest and Inej’s daughter; she would get into the treetops one way or another. 

One climb down. A thousand more to go. 

Cherry (5 years old)

Briar was solemnly helping Jesper shell peas at Sunflower Cottage when Nina burst through the door without warning. 

“Mr Meyer’s been taken in by the bailiffs on a charge of price fixing with a cartel!”

Over the table, Wylan put down his straw crafting in concern. “Is it true, do you think?”

“He’s definitely guilty,” Nina said airily, picking up a glass of water and swigging from it before fixing her gaze on Jesper. He couldn’t stop a grin from spreading wide across his face. 

“Are you going to say what I think you’re going to say?” he asked, voice lifting with exitement. 

“You bet your arse I am,” Nina exclaimed, replacing the glass with a thunk . “Grab your baskets, let’s go!”

Immediately, Jesper picked up Briar and began to wash her hands at the sink. “Go where?” Wylan asked in alarm. “And don’t say that word in front of Briar.”

“We’re going to Mr Meyer’s farm to pick all the cherries we can carry,” Jesper said, lowering Briar to the floor and washing his hands. “No,” he quickly added as the five-year-old began pulling off her pinafore, “keep that on, my wheat stalk, we’re going to need it.”

He seized up two baskets from the cluttered counters and handed one to Briar and one to Wylan. “Do you know where the other baskets went?” he asked Wylan. His partner frowned. 

“Isn’t it stealing to raid an arrested man’s orchard?”

“Not if he’s an arse,” Nina said.

At the same time, Jesper said, “Not if he’s got no family or friends.”

They looked at each other. “Same difference,” Jesper offered. Wylan’s frown deepened.

“What did I just say about that word?”

“Nina, check in the garden,” Jesper instructed as she opened her mouth to argue with Wylan. “There should be a couple of older baskets we can line with muslins. Wylan, get your boots on. Briar, you too.”

Once they were all marching along the eastward path, Wylan tried to put up an argument one final time. “If anyone finds out—”

“Trust me, Wylan, the whole village will be there,” Nina panted. She was holding up her skirts and her hair was slowly escaping its pinned-up style. “Which is why we’ve got to hurry. I can’t go another summer with that swine charging us through the nose for fruit!”

Jesper swept Briar up when she began to lag behind, her little legs running to keep up with the adults. Giving her a piggy-back slowed him down, but it gave Wylan a chance to catch his breath before they sped up to a jog again.

The orchard was north of the village, making it closest to Nina’s cottage out of the coven but still not exactly close. By the time they arrived at the orchard gate, even Jesper was starting to feel nauseous from the effort. The humid weather didn’t help matters. 

Nina was right, though: the orchard was teeming with what seemed like the whole village, teenagers up in the branches and arguments breaking out over who got to a tree first. Jesper lead the panting party towards the shady back corner of the orchard, where the trees were a little lower on fruit but far less busy. 

“Okay, let’s split up,” he said, eyeing up the available trees. “Wylan and Nina can pair up to take this row, Briar and I will go for the back row and we’ll meet you in the middle.”

“Why not together?” Nina asked, fanning her shiny face.

“We cover more ground. One tall person and one short person paired up means—”

“Alright, alright,” Wylan interrupted, rolling his eyes at the comment on his height. Jesper grinned.

“Most cherries collected as a team wins.” He held out a hand for Briar, who had wandered away. Spurning his hand, his god-daughter ran past him in the direction of the trees, flapping her arms in an approximation of birds’ wings.

Jesper jogged after her, joining in with the swooping until they came to the fence. 

“Right, my sweet plum,” he said, shading his eyes against the sun to get the measure of the trees. “Will you help me pick as many cherries as fast as possible?”

“Yes!” Briar hopped up and down in excitement, craning her neck to look up. 

“Excellent. Can you climb up?”

“Into the tree?” Briar looked askance at the bare lower trunk. 

“I’ll give you a boost,” Jesper offered. When Briar nodded, he lifted her easily under the armpits into the crown of the tree. Since the branches began only three feet off the ground, this was no challenge for him. Briar clung onto the thick boughs, looking a little uncertain. 

“Are you okay?” Jesper asked. 

“Yes,” she said, a stubborn tilt to her chin.

Well, that was an expression she had definitely learned from her father. Inej had been teaching her to climb for over a year now—who was he to argue. “Okay. Call me if you need any help, my radiant sunflower.”

He moved to the next tree over, plucking the bright fruit from its leafy branches and tossing them in his basket. Every now and again, he glanced over at Briar in her tree, and she seemed to be moving around fine, reaching out for cherries and slowly moving higher. Not just Kaz Brekker’s daughter, but Inej Ghafa’s too.

Jesper’s shoulder was aching by the time he had cleaned the lower branches of all the trees around Briar, his basket brimming with fruit. He was rotating his arm to relieve the soreness when he heard his name called. Turning, he saw Inej running towards him, her skirts in her hands. He waved, but she didn’t slow.

“Where is she?” Inej called as she approached. “Where’s Briar?” When she came to a stop in front of him, Jesper found her eyes frantic and searching in a way he hadn’t seen since her first year in Ridderbrug. 

“She’s in the tree—she’s fine,” Jesper hastened to add. 

“Which one?” Inej demanded. It was startling to see her so anxious. Inej was a master of keeping the majority of her emotions on the inside, usually presenting a calm front for her daughter. Something had deeply unsettled her.

Jesper pointed towards the cherry tree two over from him, tailing Inej as she jogged over.

“Are you okay, Briar?” she called. 

“Um…” came the response from on high, the vowel sound dragged out.

“What’s the problem?” Jesper asked, shielding his eyes against the sky. “She knows to call me if she has any problems.”

“Well, we have a problem,” Inej hissed, tugging on her bootlaces. She shouted in the direction of the tree, “I’m coming up, meja .”

Toeing off first one boot and then the other, the Suli witch stepped up into the low branches, moving very quickly up through the crown of the tree into the slim branches near the top.

Jesper stepped closer so he could see what was going on. The whole tree swayed drunkenly as Inej reached the crown where her daughter perched. Now that Jesper was looking carefully, he realised that Briar was clinging tightly to two thin branches, her expression stricken as her mother inched closer.

His stomach soured as he realised the mistake he’d made. His god-daughter was utterly terrified, and he had totally missed it. How had he been so damned unaware? 

Shame spread through him like a bad whiskey, and he was struck with desperation to run away, to leave them better off without him. He ignored the impulse, listening closely instead. Their murmurs didn’t reach him, but he caught the calming intonation. After a moment, Inej leaned closer, her hand outstretched, but Briar shook her head, screwing her eyes shut. 

Inej’s tone turned a little harder, and Jesper suspected she was reasoning with her daughter. Briar’s eyes opened again after a moment but she still did not move. 

It took quite some time for Inej to coax the girl down, each weight shift met with a flinch and dramatic scrabble. By the time Briar was stable enough for Inej to scoop her up, Jesper’s neck was aching fiercely. 

“Well done, my little larkspur,” he tried as Briar’s feet touched the ground, but neither she nor her mother responded with more than a glance. 

Inej crouched down to meet Briar’s gaze and spoke softly to her for a moment before hugging her and sending her off with a pat on the back. Obediently, she ran off to the next tree and began to pick through the windfall there. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jesper said wretchedly. “I’m so sorry, Inej.”

“I know,” Inej said evenly, brushing her knees off as she stood. 

“I thought you’d been climbing together since last spring,” Jesper explained, hanging his head. “I didn’t realise—I’m sorry.”

Inej nodded, reaching over to pat his hand. “It’s okay. We have been. It’s just that—well, she shouldn’t climb without close supervision. She doesn’t have the skills or confidence yet. We only go into tall trees together, and she had a little fall a month ago, so she’s been asking me for help with where to put her feet ever since.” She sighed, with more weariness than Jesper thought the task demanded. “I’m just trying to build her confidence again.”

“She’s safe now,” he reassured Inej as well as himself. “She’s so lucky to have you.”

Inej glanced sidelong at him. “Really?”

“Really,” he said earnestly. This worry must be another cause for her fatigue, not just all the help that the village had needed lately. “You’re such a brilliant mother, Inej. Everyone should be lucky enough to have you for their mother. Although—thinking about it, that’d be terrible luck for you. So many adopted children!”

That earned him a smile from Inej. “Thank you, Jesper.”

He wrapped her in a hug, and the comforting gesture helped to dissolve most of his lingering guilt. “Any time. Now, since I’ve lost my tree-monkey, what say you to raiding the upper branches with me? With you on my team, we might just beat Nina and Wylan, even with their time advantage. Heights make Wy somewhat ill.”

“You’re on,” Inej agreed, patting his back before reaching for the nearest branch. 

Horse Chestnut (6 years old)

Briar was adamant that her fairy house be admired by both her mother and father. With previous treetop architectural exploits she’d been satisfied with Inej’s admiration and lengthy description to her Papa, but not this week. 

“The candles will be dead soon,” she wailed as she scattered chicken feed haphazardly, causing the girls to cluck indignantly. “And the fairy will leave and the earwigs will move in and I will be sad forever!”

Kaz laid down the newspaper on his lap, his bad leg stretched out where he sat on the garden bench. He rubbed his forehead, but the frown line remained between his eyebrows, making Inej smile into the vegetable bed. 

“How did you hear about the fairy?” he asked.

“Uncle Jesper told me about it, he said his papa used to see them all the time when he was a little boy because they like forests but…”

Inej let her mind drift from her daughter’s chatter, instead watching Kaz. He nodded along, asking no questions but keeping his solemn, dark gaze on their daughter. 

“…so we have to go now!”

Once upon a time, Inej might have jumped in and made excuses for Kaz. Now she knew better than to fight his battles too. 

“Is the goat milked?” he asked their daughter. 

“Yes.”

“And you fed her too?”

“Yes.”

“Then finish up the chickens and we can go.”

Inej nearly stabbed her hand with the trowel in shock. Briar cheered and upended the basket of chicken feed before racing inside. Inej pinned Kaz with a look of surprise. 

“You’re choosing to start climbing trees with her now?”

He shrugged and folded his paper, the picture of nonchalance. “It’s clearly very important to her.”

“And the others—” Inej cut herself off with a shake of the head. It was no use arguing with Kaz when he had made up his mind. 

Briar’s squealing filled the air as she ran back outside, cloak tied around her neck. Talking to Briar too quietly for Inej to hear, Kaz levered to his feet. There was something serene and indulgent about him that made it difficult to look away. Inej pushed on her knees to stand, brushing dirt from her hands as her daughter dragged her father toward her goal.

They made their way into the trees, and Inej was reminded—as she always was on such occasions—of the first time she had joined Kaz and Briar on their morning forest walks. Briar had been so tiny then, and Inej was so unsure of the dour witch she was suddenly tied to. How far they had all come. How far they all had yet to go.

As long as they kept coming here, she thought, they would be all right. The forest, with its quiet magic and benign attention, would see to that. 

Her reverie was interrupted by Briar loudly announcing, “We’re here!” She dropped her cloak on the floor and pointed excitedly, bouncing on her toes as Inej and Kaz caught up.

As soon as they arrived at the roots of the horse chestnut, Briar set off with speed, grasping a branch and pulling herself into the tree within a breath. Inej quickly followed suit. She found herself pulling harder than usual to catch up as they scampered higher, her breathing a little laboured when she reached her daughter’s perch. When had she gained so much confidence? 

If she thought about it, she realised it must have been a couple of months since she had actually seen Briar in a tree. After the cherry orchard incident last summer, they had practised climbing together for a time, but once autumn swept in with its troublesome ailments for the villagers, Inej had been kept busy with healing and Briar was now trusted to look after herself if she was not needed at her Mama’s side. The protective enchantments that had kept her safe from strangers also kept her safe from almost any mischief she might make—although they did not extend to helping her land like a cat if she took a tumble, nor light a path back to the cottage if she drifted too far from home.

No, she had not had cause for concern. Every adventure was recounted at length by Briar, but her tales of moss and hedgehogs and bluebells had failed to capture the fact that Inej’s daughter had quietly become a climber of trees.

The thought should have brought her a quiet joy, and that sensation was buried in her somewhere, but it was overshadowed by a bitter spike of grief. A deep breath did not serve to quell the sensation. Inej stepped onto a further branch a little below Briar’s fairy house and busied herself with taking a seat gracefully while they waited for Kaz.

What troubled her? The fact that she had taught and encouraged her daughter to climb but missed this particular transformation? The unmistakable march of time, snatching away a tiny toddler and replacing her with a competent girl? Or was it something deeper, a resentment of a childhood cut short?

Maybe all three. Inej focused on the sensation of the rough bark beneath her palms and the sweet scent of the tree’s flowers. It helped to push back the clutch of frustration—as did the muttered curse from below her branch.

Leaning forwards, Inej spied Kaz pulling himself up on two branches, a scrape across his exposed forearm. She judged that his foot had likely slipped on the knot below, but he moved off it this time with a sure step. In fact, he was far more at ease in the tree than Inej would have guessed from a man who spoke of a youth spent on Ketterdam’s streets, a man who limped deeply without a cane. 

Her surprise must have shown in her face because as he drew level with his daughter’s dangling feet, Kaz said casually, “I grew up climbing trees just like this on our farm.”

“You grew up on a farm?” Inej asked, agog. His shoulders flexed pleasantly beneath his shirt as he made the final pull up to the crown where she perched. She shuffled along the branch and Kaz swung himself onto the narrow seat with a grunt. It was not often that she was so near to anyone except Briar. The press of his leg against hers, the brush of their shoulders, and the closeness of their faces when he spoke distracted Inej enough that she almost missed his reply. 

“On a few different farms.”

“Did you have cows?” Briar asked with interest, swinging her legs. 

Kaz looked over at her, his expression putting Inej in mind of a blackbird carefully assessing a worm, although she was certain he wasn’t about to eat her. “Just the one,” he told Briar. “She came with us from one farm to the next. One had apple trees, another had tulips, and another all sorts of cereals. The cow liked the apples."

“What was her name?” Briar chirped. “Did she like the tulips too?”

Kaz’s mouth twitched. “Wilma.”

Briar fell about laughing and Inej found herself smiling too. “Your choice of name?” she teased.

He hesitated then shook his head, offering no further information. His tensed shoulders spoke volumes. The desire to wrap her arm around him rose up in her, but she beat it down. That would be a little too familiar. 

“Where is this fairy house then, bibi? ” Inej asked and Briar perked up, climbing easily to her feet and gesturing to a knot in the trunk.

“Here! Look, this is the doorway,” she said, pulling out a large lime leaf that blocked the entrance. “Then here she has a table and chairs, and then—can you see, Mama?—I made her bed over here and it has a pillow and quilt. I was going to knit her one but Uncle Wylan said that fairies would prefer things made out of nature so I tried to weave one but it didn’t work very well but she has a blossom for a pillow so I think she will like that more.”

“It’s beautiful,” Inej said sincerely, pulling herself up and stepping lightly around Kaz to peer in. “Did you have to do a lot of cleaning when you first started setting it up?”

Briar nodded solemnly. “Yes, a lot. But I remember what you said about checking for birds or anyone else making nest in there and there was nobody in there.”

“Good girl,” Inej told her, and Briar beamed, lolling against the trunk.

With her daughter so at ease, Inej was struck for a moment by the childlike excitement that a treetop companion could bring. Could she suggest a race to the crown?

No, that would be a foolish idea while Briar was still so young. But when she was older, it would be another matter. Other games she had played with her cousins came flooding back to her, like seeing how far they could travel without touching the ground, or the acrobatics they had performed high above the caravan. 

A few minutes ago, such memories might have filled her with bittersweet emotions, not least the feeling that such times were a lifetime away. Now, Inej was filled only with the desire to share these exploits with Kaz and Briar. 

Her mothering sensibilities prevented her from doing so, of course. Instead, she asked, “Do you remember what you said when we first climbed a tree together?”

Briar scrunched up her face in thought before shaking her head. Inej smiled, recalling the precious memory. “You said you wanted to live there forever.” 

Her daughter’s face lit up. “Yes! I did! It was very hard to get into the tree and then I wanted to stay there for the rest of my life.”

“Are you going to stay here forever?” Kaz asked from across the tree. “Will I need to bring breakfast to the forest every day for you?”

Briar fell about laughing and Inej joined in. Her daughter inhabiting the horse chestnut and Kaz obediently serving her porridge every morning was a wonderful image, straight from a Ravkan fairytale—or maybe a Suli one, gruesome as the Ravkan tales were. 

“Yes Papa, I want breakfast in the tree everyday and then more breakfast and lunch and dinner too, please! And my feet will never touch the ground ever again!”

Inej clutched her heart in mock fear. “No, please, my darling, you must! Will you leave us, your old parents, to fend for ourselves in the cottage?”

Briar launched herself at her in a hug. “I promise I won’t, Mama, I was being silly.”

“So I don’t need to bring your breakfast out every morning?” Kaz asked, causing more giggles from Briar. 

“No, Papa!” She half-turned from Inej, extending an arm towards Kaz. He shuffled along the branch until he sat at her feet and wrapped an arm around her legs. 

Briar sighed in contentment and hugged his head tight. Inej felt such a rush of joy that she knew she must try to take it all in, to inscribe each detail in her memory, the sweet blossoms’ scent and the sound of the wind in the leaves and the feeling of the three of them embracing. They were first linked together by fate and then, over and over, by choice. 

Of course, it was only a few moments before Briar began to squirm, begging to see if she could reach into the neighbouring sycamore’s branches yet. Inej drew back and so did Kaz, allowing the six-year-old to wriggle out of their grasp. She shimmied down the tree and ran off, out of sight, although the noise of disturbed leaf litter could just be heard over the rustling of the horse chestnut’s leaves.

Inej dropped to sit on the branch again, glancing at Kaz as she swung her legs. “She’s faster than a hare now,” he said thoughfully, a proud smile curling across his face.

“She is,” Inej agreed. “Do you want to go after her first or shall I?”

Kaz eyed her and the forest floor. “I can go first,” he decided. “She’ll like the head start.”

“I don’t think she’ll need it,” Inej teased as he heaved himself gracelessly down to the next branch.

“I’m not sure she would with you either,” he shot back. 

Inej’s laugh followed him down the trunk and into the forest.