Tarvis Blooddrinker crouched in a thicket, hands loose at his sides. He’d had trouble folding his long, lean frame into this thicket. He was more muscular than he appeared, the result of tireless training with his two knives. He was tanned from his long excursions in the sun, wearing naught but his wolf-skin vest and trousers. His light brown hair fell forward into his eyes, and he brushed it back impatiently. Tarvis had to catch a deer tonight, he simply had to. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have an excuse to see Syrac tonight. Tarvis wasn’t a patient hunter at the best of times, and his growing eagerness to see the only girl he’d ever love only made the tension worse. After a few minutes, a buck and a small doe wandered into view. Tarvis debated a moment, and then decided on the buck. The doe was young and tender, but the buck had more meat, and there were five people to feed tonight.

With a yell Tarvis Blooddrinker jumped from the thicket and brandished his knife. The deer were startled into fleeing. Grateful for a chance to stretch his legs, Tarvis chased the buck. He lost track of him a few times, but Tarvis was an excellent hunter and had no problem finding the trail. It took a while, but finally, the buck was too exhausted to outrun the Selvan hunter. Tarvis closed in and slashed at his legs. The deer stumbled, and Tarvis was right there with his long steel knife. As the hot blood poured from the deer’s throat onto his hands, Tarvis wiped the knife clean and stowed it away in a sheath he wore at his waist. He hoisted the body onto his lean shoulders and headed for Syrac’s home.

As he neared the cave that Syrac Winddancer lived in with her parents and younger sister, Tarvis caught sight of the Selvan maiden. Although, Syrac was a maiden only in the technical sense of the word. She was female, and a virgin, but the definition stopped there. Syrac was tall, lean, and fit. Most importantly, she wore the weapons and the jewelry of a warrior. Whereas Tarvis had opted for a single long fang worn on a leather thong on his chest, Syrac had gathered the teeth of all the monsters she’d killed and strung them onto bracelets. She had one on each arm, and was working on a third. Her hair was a dark mahogany, and her eyes were like a doe’s, large and deep brown, set in a square face that was too determined to be pretty. Her nose should have jutted from her face, but instead gently stood out from the rest of her features.

“’Lo, Syrac.” Tarvis greeted hopefully. She ignored him, intent on the undergrowth surrounding the clearing. Tarvis walked past her and to the cooking fire, where her father, Jared Shrieklover, sat peeling potatoes with a small inferior knife. Tarvis dropped the buck near him and nodded a greeting.

“What’s up with Syrac?” He asked. “She seems less friendly than usual. I mean, she usually at least grunts at me.” Jared smiled in amusement at his observation.

“I believe she’s helping Matha practice hiding.” Tarvis nodded and sat down next to the elf. There had been some concern that as half-breeds, Syrac and Matha would be less powerful than their clan siblings, but the opposite had proven to be true. Syrac was one of the stronger warriors in the Rodeka clan, and Matha showed signs of being more versatile in her changes than her mother.

“I spot you!” Syrac called out, pointing to an old oak tree with gnarled branches. A white squirrel ran out from a hole and perched on a branch, where it sat chittering angrily.

“You know I can’t understand you.” Syrac told it calmly. The squirrel paused for a moment. It seemed to suddenly expand, fur retracting, tail disappearing, and limbs lengthening until a naked little girl sat on the branch. Unlike other twelve-year-olds, everything about this child was pale, from her white-blonde hair to her ivory skin.

“I said, you cheated! You used your auric vision!” The little girl exclaimed.

“You used magic to change shapes.” Syrac pointed out reasonably.

“Completely different.” Matha Whiterunner sniffed, jumping down from the branch and striding across the clearing to where a pile of bleached doeskin clothing waited for her. She didn’t seem to be at all self-conscious about being naked in front of Tarvis. But, that came of being a Shapechanger, he supposed. Syrac got up and followed her little sister across the clearing. She bent to kiss her father on the forehead.

“Do I get a kiss?” Tarvis asked hopefully. She snorted.

“Not likely. Where’d you get the deer?”

“A little place I know where two deer runs cross. Want some?”

“Sure, why not.” And with that, she vanished into the cave. Tarvis grinned happily. By accepting his gift, she was one step closer to accepting him. Selvan courtships were long and rough on the suitor, as the courted was expected to be rude, sarcastic, and just plain mean. The only thing that actually constituted a rejection was being driven away with weapons. Anything else was just the courted being ornery. But in these past few weeks, Syrac had been relenting, and Tarvis had high hopes that she might accept him as a lover. He was courting her as an equal, and so far he was the only suitor she hadn’t driven away. As she was fond of saying, though, that made him the favorite only by default.

“Ooo, yummy deer.” Matha exclaimed, coming over and examining it. “I want some.”

“I got enough for everyone.” Tarvis promised her.

“Does that mean you’re staying for dinner?” She asked.

“I hope so.” He told her seriously.

“You will.” Jared promised, setting aside the potatoes and dragging the deer over to him. As the inferior in his relationship with the children’s mother, it was his responsibility to do all the housework. “Sianna won’t turn you away, especially not when Syrac’s in such a good mood.” He began to skin the deer with his little, dull knife. Tarvis winced, and then reluctantly handed Jared his hunting knife.

“Here. This will serve you better than that little thing.” Jared accepted it with a nod and a smile. As Tarvis and Matha began chatting about trivial gossip in the Rodeka clan, a naked woman strode out of the forest. She was curvy and full, a well-preserved forty years old. She had long blonde hair that reached to her waist, and ocean blue eyes that took in the scene before her expertly.

“What have we got here?” Sianna Nightshrieker asked. “Where’d you get that deer?”

“Tarvis brought it.” Jared put in. Before she could comment, he added, “Syrac was looking forward to eating it.” Sianna nodded, both at the obvious and the hidden message of tolerance. She disappeared into the cave without another word, presumably in search of clothing and her warrior’s necklace made of teeth strung on a thong. Tarvis and Matha chatted some more as Jared strung the buck up on a spit and returned Tarvis’ knife.

The women reappeared in time for dinner, which consisted of boiled potatoes and Tarvis’ deer. Throughout the meal, Syrac did not speak to Tarvis or even look his way. His high hopes plummeted. He reminded himself that as the courted, it was her job to scorn his advances until she finally felt he had suffered enough. Haven’t I, though? He asked himself. Apparently not. Or maybe she plans to drive me away with her sword. He shook his head to rid himself of such depressive thoughts and excused himself when the meal was done, to return to his lonely home near the center of the Selva, there to sleep away his bad thoughts.