As for Tyrus, they did not treat him as a prince either, yet there was no disrespect in their easy talk and teasing. They were clearly fond of him and comfortable in his company, which settled any fears on the situation. Tyrus had said earlier that his father truly reflected his clan totem, and Moria suspected that this was often true of the men who bore them. Alvar Kitsune was as crafty and duplicitous as the nine-tailed fox. Jorojumo was a sneaky web spinner, like the spider. And Goro Okami seemed, like his wolf totem, independent yet loyal to his friends.
The land here was as wild as the men, and while one might think Moria had had enough of forests to last a lifetime, the one they rode through that morning was different. Lush and green, it shimmered and crackled with life, and she found herself regretting each time they had to leave for a stretch on the road.
It was nearly midday when Daigo informed her they were being followed. He started by casting looks to his side, repeatedly, as if spotting something. Then he slowed to sniff the air, his ears rotating.
“Would Lord Okami send other men to escort us?” she whispered to Tyrus. “Men who’d keep to the shadows?”
“Lord Okami does not keep to shadows very well,” Tyrus said with a slight smile. “Nor do his men, as you may have noticed. If you see someone, it’s likely local bandits.”
When she tensed, he let out a soft laugh. “You’ve little to fear. Lord Okami’s relationship with the bandits is… atypical. They’d sooner die by their own swords than attack his men. If they follow, it’s curiosity.” He sobered. “Which may be more dangerous than robbery, under the circumstances. They can be trusted not to waylay us, but I’m not as certain they can be trusted to keep our presence a secret if the bounty is high enough. You saw someone?”
“Daigo has. He and I will fall back and look.”
“I’ll join you.”
She shook her head. “That will be too obvious. Let the girl lag behind with her wildcat. If you get too far ahead, you can circle back, as if checking on me.”
He agreed, and Moria stopped, ostensibly to examine Daigo’s paw, as if he’d stepped on something sharp. They both scanned the forest as she fussed with his forepaw.
Daigo’s ears swiveled west a moment before she caught a crackle in the forest. She snuck a look that way just in time to see a slight figure slipping through the trees.
“I see only one,” she whispered. “If it’s a bandit, I don’t think he’s very old. He’s not much bigger than me.”
Daigo grunted, as if confirming. The figure snuck closer. His cloak was a mottled brown that blended with his surroundings, and his footsteps made no sound after that one unfortunate crackle.
“Will you take him down for me?” she whispered to Daigo.
The wildcat charged before she could finish. The boy saw Daigo and yanked a sling from under his cloak. Moria loosed her dagger. It caught the boy’s cloak just as he let his stone fly, and the missile launched harmlessly to the side as Daigo leaped on him. Moria ran over.
“Well,” said a lilting, high voice. “Aren’t you the prettiest kitten ever. Those fangs are truly impressive, though I’d prefer they weren’t quite so close to my throat.”
“They won’t be if you promise to rise without running.”
“Agreed,” the girl said. “You’ve caught me fair and square, and I’ll cede victory to you, young Keeper.”
“Tell her to set aside her sling first,” Tyrus’s voice called behind them.
“Ah, the little prince,” the girl said as she rose. “I thought that was you. Not quite so little these days.”
“Lay down your sling, Sabre,” Tyrus said, moving up beside them. “I know better than to be distracted by your chatter.”
The girl only laughed, and set aside her sling. As she stood, she pushed back her hood. She had called Moria “young” but she couldn’t be more than a couple of summers older. She had the regional look of the warlord’s men – wild black hair, high cheekbones, bronze skin, and eyes that seemed somewhere between blue and gray.
“You know each other, I presume,” Moria said.
“I met the little prince when he was training under Lord Okami,” Sabre said. “And when he was half a head shorter than me.”
“Which I no longer am,” Tyrus said. “So you can stop calling me that.”
“At least I still call you prince, which is more than most would.” When he opened his mouth, she said, “You don’t need to defend yourself to me. I know you wouldn’t run from battle. You trained too long under Dalain, and you’re as stupidly honor bound as he. You’d both stand in the face of a charging army rather than give ground.” She rolled her eyes at Moria. “Warriors.”
“Despite your insult,” Tyrus said, “I appreciate that you didn’t doubt my bravery.”
“More stupidity than bravery. I will admit I was somewhat swayed by the rumor that you’d been tricked by a girl. But I see now I was mistaken, and I congratulate you on how much your taste has improved. I’ll wager this one doesn’t call you to slay mice in her quarters.”
Sabre looked at Moria. “Some distant relative of Lord Okami brought his daughter once – the most vacant-headed, timid child you could imagine, though she knew how to catch a boy’s attention. She’d run from her quarters shrieking of mice and insist the valiant prince slay them for her. Which Tyrus fell for. Repeatedly. But she was terribly pretty.”