Traps, Tricks, and Beasts [Book 2 Complete][Fantasy, Adventure, Underdog]

Annoyingly, the pest remained just as good at sneaking for the short trip down to the quartermaster’s office, and it was starting to irritate Squirt. No one had any right to be that multi-talented. A fey should either be talented or powerful or beautiful, not all three.

It did not irritate her enough to want him gone, just enough to make her competitive.

Which was stupid.

As was she.

Slipping into the room, Squirt kept low along the walls, watching the lingering fey waiting their turn. The pest looked rather confused that she didn’t get in line, and more so when she stayed hidden even as two new fey walked in, taking their place. He said nothing, simply quietly standing next to her in the shadows, blending in with surprising ease giving his bright color choice of disguise, and seemed to simply bask in her nearness.

It gave him a rather dopey, stupid smile that she in no way liked or thought was in any way endearing. Nope.

She wasn’t stealing glances at him. Just… monitoring him. Yep.

At one point, he leaned over, asking her in the barest whisper, “How long do we wait?”

“Until they’re all gone,” she responded.

“Ah. Three’s chance?”

Squirt blinked rapidly before her gaze slowly slid back over to his.

Three’s chance. A silent game of subtle gestures practiced by bored greenlings.

His gaze was steady. Open. Honest. After a moment, he held his hand out in starting position.

Carefully glancing around, Squirt knew that those at the counter were not leaving in the next few minutes. Here in this darkened corner, they hadn’t even noticed her and the pest were there.

Fuck it.

She obliged.

The game was simple. There were a series of gestures. Players went one at a time, trading gestures back and forth, trying to trip up their opponent into doing the wrong sequence at the wrong time by changing up their own. In this way, greenlings could play one game over the course of a day by trading gestures as they passed each other in the halls.

On the third gesture, he lost.

Though silent, he mimed sighing forlornly in defeat before holding up his hand again with a wink.

This fey.

Unable to prevent the slight upturn of her lips, she obliged for another round.

He lasted for five gestures this time.

Once again silently, he mimed an exaggerated, aggravated denial before holding out his hand again with a grin and a glint of eagerness.

She began. This time, he remained absolutely focused while she kept her eyes up, barely glancing at his moves while she leaned against the wall.

On the fifth gesture, she began watching him out of the corner of her eye, surprised both at his focus and that he hadn’t faltered yet.

On the tenth, she had turned a little towards him, her eyes on the gestures, a competitive gleam in her eyes.

He lost on the thirteenth. Triumphant, Squirt gave him a smug smirk, but he seemed to find fun even in his loss as he once again held out his hand in starting position.

Wryly, she reciprocated.

Each game they played, he lasted longer. They moved faster. A grin tugged up her lips, a fire fueling her motions and pulling her deeper into the silent games between them.

When he lost at a hundred and two gestures, once again he mimed a theatrical outcry that coaxed a nearly silent giggle out of Squirt.

Both of them froze at the sound. Squirt staring down, the pest staring at her, and those at the counter unaware of the games going on behind them.

Then he shifted, and she chanced a glance, surprised to see his hand in the ready position again, offering her another round. When her eyes flickered up to his face, she paused.

There it was. That smile. That gods damned beautiful smile of his. Not the plastered one, not the muted one, just the one that invited her in to share the fun.

She teetered for a moment.

He held his breath.

She scanned over the room once more.

Then, just as his hope started to flag, she crossed her arms over her chest, shifting until her hand under her elbow showed the start gesture.

He beamed.

Eventually, the last of the fey needing something before the dinner bells rang left the room. Squirt and the pest had managed to get to one hundred and eighty-three when they paused the game at Quint’s heavy sigh. “… you can come out now, huntress.”

Squirt shot the pest a look, mouthed, “We’ll continue later,” and trotted forward, eyeing the woman’s dark eyes suspiciously. “How’d you know?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t.” Then she jerked her thumb behind her. “But your friend did.”

Squirt sighed with a wry tilt to her lips, not in the least surprised. Puds had a skill for detection even if she was as violent as a butterfly. She used to cry as a child if she accidentally killed a bug from stepping on it.

Quint dropped her eyes behind the counter, frowning, before gesturing. “Go on, then.”

A moment later, Puds slipped under the counter entrance without lifting it up, spotting Squirt and giving a great, beaming smile as she ran over, throwing her arms up and forcing Squirt to catch her with a grunt. To the surprise of both Feldan and Quint, Squirt accepted the hug, melting a little bit into an exasperated smile and spinning them. Dropping her friend back down, she held her back by the shoulders, scanning over her and saying, “I assume you’ve gotten to do lots of cooking?”

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She nodded vigorously. “Mistress Quint is so wonderfully kind, making sure we’re fed and accommodated.” She held out the sleeves of her new dress, the fabric on the cheaper side but dyed in pastel blues and pinks. “See?” She gave an excited twirl before finally spotting Squirt’s companion, a move that made Squirt’s eyebrow twitch.

Gods damnit. Feldan wasn’t as good as she was at sneaking. He was better.

That hurt worse.

Cautious Puds returned as she took a frightened step closer to Squirt, her eyes already dropping. He, being both personable and charismatic enough to see her nerves, trotted out, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “It’s okay. I don’t bite.”

Puds took another half-step closer to Squirt, reaching out and pinching her clothing, curtsying politely before whispering in greenling, “Friend?”

The pest, having been around enough greenlings to recognize the language difference, had his smile dim with a touch of resignation.

Puds forced a nervous smile, her eyes on the floor.

Squirt sighed before responding in greenling. “He’s harmless. Annoyingly talented, annoyingly perfect, annoyingly charming… no bad intentions, not any more than Quint, just very little understanding.” She then gestured at the pest. “He’s trying, though. Keeps talking about how Thorn sits closest to him when he sings and peeling potatoes with the elders.” Giving a noncommittal shrug, she muttered, “Pretty sure he’s doing it just to get in my pants for some gods unknown reason.”

Puds’s expression hardened immediately as she reached down for Squirt’s hand. “We can run to the Goddess. There’s always a shrine that will protect us. Her protection extends to all.”

When Squirt stared at the earnest, hardened expression in Puds’ eyes, it wasn’t sorrow she felt.

It was relief.

Maybe it was twisted of her. But after the hell of her previous life and seeing Leaf happy and almost… innocent of the suffering she had endured… she started to wonder if she would never again truly be able to connect with any of them. If her fate was to be forever cut off from her family, to never again find acceptance. But here it was. Shared scars. A moment of connection with someone she feared being as alien as Leaf was.

So she laughed. The sound was almost playful, held back by an undertone that recognized the truth in the humor of the statement. “No… it’s… I haven’t rejected him.”

Saying it out loud to Puds, to the face of her childhood that carried its own scars, she realized she had no intention to, either.

And that scared her.

Puds pulled back, searching Squirt’s eyes. Her grip on Squirt’s hand tightened just a smidge as she implored in a whisper, “I… I don’t want to watch you slowly die again.”

Squirt’s smile was heavy, but genuine. “Yeah. Dying. It certainly felt like it.” Then she shook her head, the smile softer, brighter. “But… I’m better than ever, too.”

Puds seemed unsure.

Sixty years melted away. Suddenly Squirt was just a city rat, standing in front of her best friend, about to regale her with a story to banish the other woman’s fears for a few minutes of stolen happiness. That uncrossable chasm disappeared as if it had never been.

Squirt squeezed her hand back, giving her a confident grin. “Frankly, you couldn’t make me want to go back. The Wylds is more welcoming and beautiful for us than anywhere else.”

Seeing the light in Squirt’s eye, the genuineness of the statement, Puds found herself enthralled. Her fellow greenlings had leaned around to listen when Puds had walked out originally, but now they were stepping closer to hear the same answer to her curious question. “What do you mean?”

“At this time of year, the feybeasts are too powerful to even really notice weaklings like us. Soon even if they do notice us, they’ll be too powerful to care. We can walk freely amongst the trees and beasts in a way these other fey can’t.”

Shrugging, Squirt continued. “Feybeasts are much like fey, only they lack the capacity for cruelty. When they attack, it’s because they’re hungry. There’s honesty in it. It’s not a peaceful life, but a free one.”

The other greenlings gathered closer, hanging off her every word.

Puds asked nervously, “Isn’t it scary?”

“Hm… sometimes… I have scars from battles with beasts but… no more than my scars from fey. And with a beast, you never have to worry. You won’t be punished for fighting back. And sometimes, they’ll even protect you.”

“They will?”

Squirt nodded, launching into an explanation of earth tree clearings with a gleam in her forest green eyes.

***

While neither Quint nor Feldan could understand the words spoken, it was still a beautiful sight, seeing this new side of the huntress.

The moment was brief, conscious as always of needing to return to work, but for all the greenlings it was clearly a much-needed respite. Not even Quint begrudged them for it, not with her shelves looking pristine and the workers as efficient as these.

***

All too soon, Squirt found herself staring at Puds, nostalgia overwhelming her.

Puds tilted her head. “Yes?”

Squirt shook her head, smiling to herself. She had always had a bit of an inferiority complex towards the far more feminine Puds. Unusually pretty for a greenling, she had always been popular amongst those Squirt had coveted. Even Leaf had a crush on Puds despite being Squirt’s lover.

Looking at her now, she still felt that she was the kind of feminine and pretty Squirt had wanted to be, but no longer did it hurt to acknowledge. Her self-confidence was no longer weighed down by those insecurities, and in their place was something much lighter and more precious.

Puds was pretty in a way Squirt was not, and now, with time and distance, she could appreciate it.

Rather than say any of that, she merely shook her head and tugged on Puds’ side braid. “Copycat.”

Puds blushed, running her hands over her braid. “Y-yeah, well…” Her shoulders hunched awkwardly. “I um… yours was always so pretty.”

Squirt snorted. Puds’ hair was green with highlights of blue, giving it a natural depth and beauty even in a braid that Squirt never had. Running her hand through her short hair, she was suddenly glad Kenna had cut it for her, shaping it into something more intentional. “Yeah, well… short hair is easier to care for.”

Puds nodded, smiling softly. “It suits you.”

Squirt blushed, sliding her eyes away from the warmth in Puds’ eyes. “Ah… well… I’ve kept you from your duties for long enough. I just came to check to make sure you have everything you need.”

Puds smiled grew even warmer. “Some things never change.”

Squirt found her eyes drawn back to Puds, touched in a way she didn’t really know how to deal with.

Puds understood, stepping in close and giving Squirt a tight hug. A full four inches taller than Squirt, it was like being enveloped in softness, and Squirt couldn’t help the way her lips quirked up naturally any more than she could help holding her back.

The height difference was another feature of Puds that Squirt had always envied. Puds was exactly average height for a pixie at four feet even, an inch shorter than the pest. Squirt was and always had been unusually small for a pixie, the difference stark when comparing the two friends. Now, much like her natural femininity, it was just another feature of Puds.

Puds whispered, “I’m here, if you need me. Always.”

Waves of emotion threatened Squirt. She didn’t respond verbally, but she squeezed the taller woman back in answer, instead, acknowledging the offer.

They pulled apart, parting ways. Squirt watched her duck back under the counter, pausing just before turning the corner to give Squirt another warm smile, and Squirt found her hand lifting in a friendly wave, her smile still in place.

Then Puds turned the corner, disappearing back to work along with the other greenlings. Squirt stared at the space she had disappeared to as reality and time slowly crept back into being. The traumas of her life and the walls she’d spent years building slowly built up.

Gods, she was exhausted.

A shift brought her eyes back to the pest, whom she had entirely forgotten about. A light blush dusted his cheeks, his eyes staring after where Puds had disappeared.

She trotted back to him.

“What are you staring at,” she muttered darkly.

His eyes returned to her, and to her surprise, he looked genuinely flustered. “I, that is… who is she?”

Squirt was not a jealous woman. She wasn’t.

She wasn’t.

Nope.

A slow, curling, teasing grin grew across his face.

Damnit, him being flustered was gone already.

He cleared his throat with a smile. “Non, non m—huntress. Not like that. Just…” Glancing away, a flush appeared in his cheeks as he fidgeted with his sleeve, his smile softening further. “Who is she to you, to make you smile like that? That was my question.”

Squirt glanced back at the countertop, wondering how to quantify it. How to explain it simply, succinctly. That they were both dropped off at the orphanages within a year of each other, raised together in their small community, family by all but blood until Squirt fell prey to the Sia-bitch and the lie of a greenling’s “special fey.”

She answered, “An old friend,” before turning and exiting out the door.

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