The morning light caught in Arwen’s black hair as she settled beside Instinct on the flat stone near the stream.
He had spent the last several minutes considering how to explain what Nyx had told him without mentioning Nyx herself.
“There’s something I want to talk about.”
Arwen took a drink from one of the waterskins before looking at him.
“That sounds serious.”
“Possibly.”
“That sounds worse.”
Instinct smiled faintly.
“Your people still need the basilisk venom.”
Her expression changed immediately.
“Yes.”
“And we already agreed you’re not going after it alone again.”
“We agreed you were coming with me.”
“Same thing.”
Arwen gave him a look but didn’t argue.
Instinct rested his forearms against his knees.
“I came across information about something else in this forest.
The information is old, and I don’t know how accurate it still is.”
Arwen waited.
“A kitsune.”
Her eyebrows rose.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then—
“A kitsune?”
“You know what they are?”
“I know enough.”
That caught his attention.
Arwen looked toward the trees.
“Fox kin.
Magical.
Intelligent.
Rare.” She paused.
“And not something I would approach carelessly.”
That was considerably more useful than Nyx’s fragmented records.
“The information says one may live somewhere deeper in the forest.”
“May?”
“Old records.
She could have left.
She could be dead.
The information could simply be wrong.”
Arwen studied him.
“And you want to find her.”
Instinct nodded.
“If she’s real, yes.”
“Why?”
“Several reasons.” He glanced toward her.
“We’re going after something that nearly killed you.
Another ally wouldn’t hurt.”
Arwen’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“I wounded the basilisk.”
“I know.”
“I would have killed it if it hadn’t caught me off guard.”
“I know that too.”
“And now there are two of us.”
Instinct smiled.
“Level Eighty.”
Arwen went completely still.
A beat passed.
Then another.
“How do you know my level?”
Instinct had expected the question.
He couldn’t exactly answer the woman living inside my soul told me.
“The bond.”
Not entirely a lie.
Arwen’s eyes narrowed further.
“The bond told you I am Level Eighty?”
“It gives me information about the people I’m bonded with.”
That, at least, was true enough.
Arwen continued staring at him.
Instinct stared back.
Finally, she sighed.
“You are very strange.”
“I’ve been told.”
“By whom?”
Instinct paused.
Arwen’s eyebrow rose.
He decided retreat was the wiser option.
“My point is that you’re considerably stronger than I am.”
“At least you understand something.”
“I’m Level Twenty.”
“I know.”
Instinct frowned.
“How?”
Now it was Arwen’s turn to smile.
“Doesn’t feel pleasant when someone mysteriously knows things about you, does it?”
Instinct stared at her.
Arwen looked entirely too pleased with herself.
He decided not to give Nyx the opportunity to comment.
“The kitsune,” he said.
“Coward.”
“Probably.”
Arwen laughed softly.
Instinct continued.
“My class is built around forming bonds.
You proved those bonds aren’t limited to ordinary beasts.”
Her amusement faded slightly.
“You want to bond with the kitsune.”
“If we find her.”
Arwen’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Instinct noticed.
“And if she wants one,” he added.
“Another female.”
There it was.
Instinct looked at her.
Arwen looked toward the stream as though she hadn’t said anything unusual.
“Possibly.”
“A very convenient coincidence.”
“I didn’t choose what the records said.”
“Of course not.”
Instinct fought the urge to smile.
“Arwen.”
Her emerald eyes returned to him.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen if we find her.
I don’t even know if she’s still here.
I’m not going to decide what I want from someone before I’ve met them.”
Arwen’s expression softened slightly.
“But if she’s willing?”
“And if I want the bond after meeting her, then I’d consider it.”
She was quiet.
Instinct didn’t interrupt.
Eventually, Arwen exhaled and looked deeper into the forest.
“If there truly is a kitsune living here, finding her may be worthwhile even without a bond.”
Instinct nodded.
“That was my thought.”
“No, your thought involved bonding with her.”
“Partly.”
“Another female.”
“You mentioned that.”
“I felt it deserved repeating.”
Instinct laughed.
Arwen’s lips twitched.
Then her expression became thoughtful.
“You said the records place her deeper in the forest?”
“That’s all I know.”
Instinct shook his head.
Arwen considered it.
“There are old ruins southwest of here.”
His attention sharpened.
“How far?”
“A few days, depending on the terrain.”
“Do you know them?”
“I know of them.
They’re older than my settlement.
Most people avoid that part of the forest.”
“Why?”
“Stories.”
“What kind of stories?”
Arwen looked at him.
“The kind that make sensible people avoid old ruins.”
Instinct smiled.
“So we’re going.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“Is that a problem?”
Arwen stood.
“If the kitsune exists, the ruins are as good a place to begin as any.
And if she doesn’t…”
She lifted one shoulder.
“We lose a few days before hunting the basilisk.”
Instinct rose beside her.
“Then southwest.”
“Southwest.”
He reached for Moonfall.
“There is something else.”
Arwen looked at the katana.
“What?”
“I want you to train me.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly.
“With Moonfall?”
Instinct nodded.
“Some things come naturally when I fight.
Too naturally, considering I don’t remember ever learning them.
But I don’t know how much of that is instinct and how much is actual technique.”
Arwen studied him more carefully.
“You’ve fought since awakening?”
“A wolf.
Two boars.”
“And survived.”
“Obviously.”
Her mouth curved faintly.
“Were you injured?”
“One of the boars caught me.”
Arwen’s expression sharpened.
“And?”
“I healed.”
She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head.
“Of course you did.”
Instinct reached into his belongings and removed the scroll he had carried since awakening.
“I also have this.”
Arwen accepted it.
“What is it?”
“A swordsmanship manual.”
She loosened the ribbon and unrolled enough of the scroll to examine the diagrams.
“Where did you get this?”
“When I awakened in the forest, Moonfall and the manual were beside me.”
Her emerald eyes lifted to his.
“Just lying there?”
“Yes.”
“And you have no idea who left them?”
“No.”
Inside his mind, Nyx stirred.
” LIAR.
”
I’m keeping you secret.
” OH, HOW NOBLE.
”
Instinct ignored her.
Arwen looked back at the scroll.
“Your life appears to have begun with quite a few mysteries.”
“I’m starting to notice.”
She studied another section of the manual.
“Have you studied it?”
“Not properly.
I’ve looked through it, but that’s not the same as training.”
“No,” Arwen agreed.
“It isn’t.”
She rolled the scroll closed and handed it back.
“Then why ask me?”
Instinct rested a hand on Moonfall’s hilt.
“Because a manual can show me where to put my feet.
It can’t tell me when someone is about to cut my head off.”
Arwen looked at him for a moment.
“Fair point.”
“You’re Level Eighty, four hundred and thirty-seven years old, and you went hunting a basilisk alone.
I’m going to assume you know how to fight.”
A smile slowly appeared on her face.
“A reasonable assumption.”
“Then teach me.
Footwork.
Distance.
Timing.
Whatever I’m missing.”
“That could be a very long list.”
Instinct stared at her.
Arwen’s smile widened.
“Show me your stance.”
“Now?”
“You asked me to train you.”
“I thought we’d start after we packed.”
“An enemy will be sure to give you time to pack first.”
Instinct stared at her.
Somewhere inside his mind, Nyx laughed.
” I LIKE HER.
”
Quiet.
Arwen tilted her head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He drew Moonfall.
“Fine.
Teach me.”
⸻
They packed shortly afterward and started southwest.
The forest path quickly became less defined, forcing Arwen to choose their route through increasingly wild terrain.
By midday, she found a suitable clearing.
“Again.”
Instinct adjusted his stance.
“Feet slightly farther apart,” Arwen said.
He moved them.
“Too far.”
He corrected.
“Shoulders.”
Instinct relaxed them.
Arwen circled him slowly.
“Knees.”
“They’re bent.”
“Barely.”
“Better.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
Instinct sighed.
Arwen stepped in front of him.
“Your body is fast.
Very fast.
But speed won’t correct bad technique.”
Instinct became serious.
Arwen continued.
“Some of what you’re doing is unusual for someone who claims he has never been trained.
Your body reacts before you think.”
Instinct glanced at Moonfall.
“I noticed.”
“That may keep you alive.
It may even make you dangerous.” She stepped back.
“But instinct without discipline creates openings.”
“Then show me how to close them.”
Arwen smiled faintly.
“Strike.”
Instinct slashed horizontally.
Arwen moved aside.
“Again.”
He attacked diagonally.
She avoided it.
“Again.”
Overhead.
She stepped beyond his range before Moonfall descended.
Instinct frowned.
“You haven’t drawn your weapon.”
“I haven’t needed to.”
That was irritating.
Arwen smiled.
“Again.”
He attacked.
This time she stepped inside the arc of his strike and placed two fingers against the center of his chest.
“Dead.”
Instinct looked down at her fingers.
“That seems unfair.”
“The person killing you probably won’t care.”
“Encouraging.”
“You wanted training.”
She stepped away.
“Speed doesn’t come from swinging harder.
It comes from efficiency.
Knowing where your blade needs to go and taking the shortest path there.”
Instinct adjusted his grip.
“Again?”
“Again.”
They trained for hours.
Overhead.
Horizontal.
Diagonal.
Thrust.
Withdraw.
Step.
Turn.
Strike.
Some movements came strangely naturally to Instinct, as though his body understood things his mind had never learned.
Arwen gave those instincts structure.
She corrected his feet when his balance shifted too far forward.
His shoulders when he telegraphed a strike.
His distance when he stepped too close.
His timing when he attacked before creating an opening.
Small corrections.
But each one changed the movement.
Moonfall gradually felt less like a weapon his body somehow knew how to use and more like something he was beginning to understand.
By late afternoon, Instinct completed five consecutive strikes without losing his balance.
Arwen nodded.
“Better.”
Instinct lowered Moonfall.
“Only better?”
“You’ve been training for half a day.”
“And?”
“I am Level Eighty and four hundred and thirty-seven years old.”
Instinct considered that.
“You really know how to encourage a student.”
“I haven’t hit you with the flat of my blade yet.”
Instinct stared at her.
“Yet?”
Arwen smiled.
“Again.”
He raised Moonfall.
⸻
They continued southwest until the fading light made further travel unnecessary.
A small pond offered water, and the surrounding trees provided enough shelter for the night.
Instinct gathered firewood while Arwen hunted.
She returned with a rabbit and a handful of edible berries, and before long they were sitting together beside a small fire.
The meal was simple.
Instinct didn’t care.
After hours of training, rabbit tasted considerably better than it had any right to.
“You’re improving,” Arwen said.
Instinct glanced at her.
“That sounded dangerously close to praise.”
“Don’t become accustomed to it.”
“Too late.”
Arwen smiled and leaned against him.
For a while, neither spoke.
The forest settled around them.
Insects chirped beneath the undergrowth.
Leaves shifted overhead.
Somewhere in the distance, an animal released a long, mournful call.
Instinct wrapped an arm around Arwen.
She rested her head against his shoulder.
“You’re still thinking about the kitsune,” she said.
“A little.”
“Worried?”
“Curious.”
“That can be more dangerous.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Four hundred and thirty-seven years of it.”
Instinct looked down at her.
“I thought we weren’t discussing strategy tonight.”
Arwen raised her head.
“We weren’t?”
“No.”
“And what exactly did you intend to discuss?”
Instinct kissed her.
Arwen’s surprise lasted less than a heartbeat before her hand slipped behind his neck and pulled him closer.
The kitsune could wait.
So could the basilisk.
For a while, there was only the warmth of the fire, the quiet forest, and Arwen in his arms.
Much later, the fire had burned down to glowing embers.
Arwen slept beside him, her head resting against his chest.
Instinct listened to the forest.
Tomorrow they would continue southwest.
More training.
More searching.
And, if the old information was worth anything, eventually a kitsune.
His eyes slowly closed.
For several hours, the forest remained quiet.