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Thank you to everyone who read chapter one and shared your feedback! I hope that you continue to enjoy the story as we delve deeper into the romance and intrigue this week. I had planned to post regularly on Sundays, but I've finished a little early so why wait? Both chapters have been around 5,000 words so far. Would you rather get a new chapter of the sameish length weekly, or wait for longer installments? Feel free to let me know, along with any other thoughts about the story so far. Happy reading!

Chapter Two – Suspicion

The next morning, after inspecting her wounded thigh by the light of day, Risten decided that Yana was in no condition to return home anytime soon. Aslak was amazed by how easily Isak agreed to extend 'one night' into two, and then three. By the week's end, the Varda had her own bowl and mug in the longhouse, a small collection of hand-me-down clothes, and a new bedroll to sleep on.

She stuck to Aslak's side day and night, following him on his errands around the village, always under the watchful eye of the other humans and trailed by a gang of curious children. The braver ones would rush forward to tug on Yana's fur then retreat in a giggling pack. At first, Yana tried to play along. She chased after the boys and girls, dropping her antlers in a mock charge. But when the tykes' frightened squeals summoned their parents, Aslak had to step in to keep a fight from breaking out.

After that, they spent their days outside the village.

They wandered beyond the few surrounding farms to the grassy hills where the sheep and goats went to graze among swaying wildflowers. Aslak tried to teach Yana his language but the Varda had little interest in returning the favor, and her short attention span posed its own challenges.

No matter how many times he taught her 'sit' and 'listen', the lesson never seemed to stick in Yana's mind. Instead, he learned to take her on long, meandering walks around the outskirts of the Brightwood, naming each plant and animal they saw, adding new verbs each day until Yana could knit together a few childish sentences.

Then she discovered that Aslak would obey just about any order she gave him, and suddenly Yana's vocabulary grew by leaps and bounds.

"Chase!" she shouted over her shoulder "Aslak, chase!"

They were racing down a hill on the slopes beneath Aslak's village. It was a favorite game of Yana's, and each day as the pain in her leg eased she could run faster and faster. Only Aslak's long strides allowed him to run down the smaller, speedier Varda.

As he drew closer and reached out to grab her, Yana ducked under his arm, swerving in a new direction with a burst of girlish giggles. Aslak slid on his heels, took off sprinting after her and caught up when a stream blocked her escape. This time he leapt for her, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her to the soft ground with a playful growl. Yana squealed with delight, tugging at his hands to try and break his grip.

"Again!" Yana shouted. "Up, chase again!"

"Don't Varda ever get tired?"

With a grunt of frustration Yana spun around in Aslak's grip, lying with their heaving chests together. She swept his hair back from his forehead and leaned closer, holding his gaze with her bright brown eyes, until Aslak could feel her warm, panting breaths against his lips.

"Tired of Yana?"

"No, no!" He hugged Yana tighter and saw her lips curl up in a cheeky smile. "Tired of running. Need to catch my breath."

Yana sighed, then blew a sharp breath in his face. "Catch!" Aslak laughed and laughed.

"Here, sav'im. Teach me." He took Yana's hand and interlaced her small, soft fingers with his own. "Fingers. Cocu om? How do the Varda say 'fingers'?"

The topic must have pleased Yana, because she started to babble in her native tongue. She stopped herself and began again, more slowly, waggling her fingers. "Jiji."

"Jiji."

Yana clucked her tongue, obviously unsatisfied with his pronunciation. She enunciated both syllables, opening her mouth wide to show how her tongue grazed her front teeth. "Ji-ji."

"Ji-ji."

This time, Aslak earned a smile and a nod. Yana sat up, straddling his hips, and named the parts of her body one by one, tracing her fingers over each of them. Arms. Shoulders. Throat. Eyes. Nose. Ears. Antlers. Lips. Tongue. He repeated each word until Yana wobbled her head, making her antlers sway approvingly.

Without so much as a wink or a knowing look, she reached behind her back and carelessly unlaced her tunic, letting it fall around her thighs. Aslak gawked at her, his mouth hanging open, then chided himself for letting Yana get carried away. After all, she had already shown him how little the Varda thought of nudity. She was always stripping down when his back was turned, or brazenly lifting her tunic's skirt in front of him to check the scar on her thigh. He was beginning to wonder if the Varda thought of clothes the way humans thought of aprons and smocks, to be worn at work and then taken off at rest.

Before he could say anything, Yana took his hand and pressed it to one of her small, pert breasts. He tried to pull away but she held his wrist and furrowed her brow. "Touch," she urged. "Ahb."

"Yana… we shouldn't."

She pressed her hand over his. Aslak could feel her heart beating under his fingertips and her stiff nipple against his palm. "Ahhhb." She stretched the word into a long, soft exhale and Aslak echoed it, feeling Yana's heart quicken as she broke into a grin. She dragged his hand down her taut stomach, trailing his fingers through the smooth and fluffy white patch on her midriff.

Yana's free hand pulled aside her fallen tunic, baring the short white fur between her legs and the strip of dark flesh in its midst. Aslak's hard cock was already pressing against her buttocks and he knew that she could feel it there.

There were no words, now. The lesson they had started was forgotten. But as she guided Aslak's hand between her legs, and he caressed the warm flesh that he found there, she threw back her antlered head and gasped a Varda word. Aslak had never heard it before, but he was sure he understood her perfectly.

Yana sank down onto him, touching their foreheads while she cupped Aslak's face, her breath hitching and shuddering with the slow, gentle strokes of his hand against her sex. She pressed her lips to Aslak's and pushed her tongue into his mouth, grinding her hips into his open palm with an eagerness that excited him like nothing he had ever felt.

His other hand roamed across Yana's hip then cupped her soft backside. She moaned into his mouth, her fluffy tail brushing against his fingers as it wagged back and forth.

While his body responded instinctively to Yana's touch, doubts were creeping into Aslak's mind. As much as he had learned about the Varda in the past week, and as strong as his budding feelings for her had become, he couldn't be sure that she felt the same way. Did her touch, her kiss, mean the same as a human woman's might—or was this just a game to her? If this was only a fleeting distraction for Yana, Aslak would rather they stopped right now. Because to him, it was so much more.

These thoughts were swirling in his head when Yana groped between his legs, whispering Varda words into his ear, and then suddenly his head was empty.

Aslak slipped his hand to the small of Yana's back and rolled atop her. She sprawled out on the grass, gazing up at him with a blissful smile, innocence and lust mingling in her eyes.

"Need rest?" she asked with feigned concern, rubbing her soft thigh against his. "Catch breath?"

"What I need is you."

He leaned forward, desperate to taste Yana's lips again, and she rose on her elbows to meet him. Aslak curled his hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her toward him—just as a long, keening whistle sounded from the hills above.

Aslak pulled away at once and looked toward the village, spotting the source of the interruption straight away. Risten stood on a ridge, looking down on him and Yana with her arms folded. She was too far away for Aslak to read her features, but the way she turned her back on him and marched away, her red hair billowing behind her, said plenty.

"Damn!"

He jumped to his feet, keenly aware of what a fool he looked with his bulging breechcloth. Yana looked utterly bewildered as he pulled her off the ground and helped to retie her tunic.

"That's all the time we have for lessons today," he told her. "We should head back."

Yana groaned, even as she straightened out her skirt and fell in step beside him. "Chase again? Tomorrow?"

"Maybe. But we should be careful from now on, Yana. My people aren't as… free as yours. If they see us together—"

She stopped suddenly, gripping Aslak's wrist. He was surprised to find her pouting up at him. "Risten… Aslak's mate?" she asked.

He broke into hearty laughter, which only seemed to confuse and disappoint Yana more. "No, Yana. I told you already, Risten's father Isak raised me. She's like a sister to me. That's all."

Aslak wondered if Yana had understood him. She gazed toward the village for a long while, frowning, her thumb rubbing anxiously against Aslak's wrist. At last, she slid her hand into Aslak's and let him lead them back to the gate.

Although it pained him, Aslak let go once they were in sight of the village. He knew what the others would say if they walked home hand in hand: that the Varda had bewitched him. Perhaps Risten already believed it. With so many hateful rumors still swirling about Yana, Aslak just couldn't bear to put her under any more suspicion.

Risten was waiting outside the longhouse, leaning beside the doorway. She gave them no welcome or sign of recognition, even when Yana waved to her. Aslak knew his sister's moods and he could tell that she was at her worst. He sent Yana inside then waited until he was certain she couldn't overhead them.

"Risten… what you saw—"

"She needs to go." There was no malice in her voice, she spoke it like a fact.

"You've changed your mind since this morning. You told me she needed another day or two, at least."

Risten shrugged. "From what I've seen, she's certainly got her energy back."

He hung his head and sighed. "If you'll just let me explain—"

"You don't owe me any explanation, but if anyone else saw you two I'm sure there will be plenty of questions." She leaned closer and dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. "Take my advice: whatever happened between the two of you, send her away and forget it. The whole village is convinced that you've been charmed by her big doe eyes, and I'm not sure they're wrong."

"Don't tell me you believe that nonsense. Yana hasn't given me any love potion or charm. She's just sweet, and friendly."

"Friendly?" Risten arched an eyebrow. "Is that how you treat all your friends?"

He felt his cheeks flush, not only from embarrassment but his memories of Yana's soft touch on his skin. "Who knows what's normal to the Varda? Yana didn't seem to think there was anything unusual about it."

"I don't know or care what some Beastkin thinks. I only worry about the thoughts she's putting in your head."

Risten brushed past him, headed for the doorway. Aslak blocked her path with his arm and her blue eyes turned on him, full of defiance. He raised his other hand in a soothing gesture. "I'll take Yana home tomorrow. But I want you to come with me." Risten scoffed but he pressed on before she could interrupt. "Her tribe must have a shaman. Yana seems to know as much about herbs and mushrooms as you do, and she's just an ordinary Varda. Maybe you could learn something from them. If you're not afraid of what they might put in your head."

Her features softened as she reflected in silence. Finally, she shook her head and shoved his arm out of her way. "Fine, I'll come. Just to keep you two from pawing at each other long enough to make the trip."

***

Dinner that night was one of the strangest scenes Yana had ever lived through. Risten and Aslak wouldn't look her in the eye, or each other, and neither of them said a word throughout the meal. Isak seemed as baffled as Yana but only shrugged at her. The old man could go a whole day without saying five words, and so he felt no need to need to break the silence.

Yana had a hunch what was behind the awkward atmosphere, but she didn't know how to broach the subject and so she passed the meal in silence, idly stirring her bowl of soup. Of all the peculiar things about Manfolk, their attitudes toward sex were what baffled her the most.

Since she came of age two summers ago, Yana had thought nothing of her countless flings and romps. She had even dabbled with the other young does once or twice before settling on her preference for tall, strapping bucks.

All it took was one inviting look, a touch to spread her musk and signal her desires, and then to find a secluded place to rut the day away in her lover's arms. Sex, after all, was as much a basic need as food, water, or sleep, and Yana never deprived herself of those if she could help it.

While she wished that it could be that simple with Aslak—no hesitation, no shame or fear—another part of Yana savored the Manfolk's shyness, his restraint. He looked away when she undressed and touched her with a gentleness that bordered on reverence, which only made it more gratifying once he finally gave in to desire.

That day, before Risten had interrupted them, Yana glimpsed something new in Aslak's eyes that captivated her. It was hunger. Hunger for her and no one else—a feeling purer and stronger than the idle lust the bucks from her tribe had shown.

From the moment she saw that hunger in Aslak's eyes, Yana knew two things: that she felt the same way toward him, and that she wouldn't settle for anything less ever again.

"Had enough?"

The sound of Risten's voice brought Yana out of her reverie. The redhead was standing over her, one hand out to collect her half-finished bowl of soup. Yana realized that she had been sucking on her spoon while she was lost in though. She quickly dropped it in the bowl then handed them over.

Night came quickly in the village. While the Varda would gather with their clan and sit around a bonfire together, drinking, laughing, and talking late into the evening, the Manfolk preferred to split into their small families, and it seemed as if each of them had some solitary craft they used to while away the hours after dinner.

Isak filled his pipe and picked up where he had left off the night before, carving a wooden figurine. Risten hung her cauldron over the fire. Soon, her latest concoction would fill the longhouse with an acrid smell, or smoke that left Yana's eyes watering. Aslak sat down with his tools, ready to fasten a new head on his spear, until Yana sat in front of him and picked up the jagged piece of knapped stone.

"What's wrong?" she asked. There were much more pointed questions on her mind, but she didn't have the words to ask them, yet.

"Nothing," Aslak said flatly. It annoyed Yana to see how blatantly he avoided her gaze. She pressed the point of the spearhead under his chin and his head snapped up straight away.

"Talk."

"Talk tomorrow," he assured her, reaching for the spearhead. Yana pulled it out of his reach.

"Talk now." Or else I'll prick your backside with this barbaric weapon and let your peeping sister sew it up, she would have liked to add.

He sighed then leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper that was almost lost under the crackling fire beside them. "Risten says your leg is healed."

Some shaman, Yana thought. It's been healed for days now. It wasn't her poor health that had kept her in Aslak's village for so long, but her very healthy interest in the hunter. "Good. Healed." Yana slapped her thigh. "So?"

"So… tomorrow we're going to take you back to your people."

Yana shot to her knees, a smile spreading on her face. "Come with me? Meet Varda?" She had expected to be turned out on her hooves for several days now, but not with an escort home. The prospect of Aslak meeting her clan brought her to giddy laughter. What would they make of his golden hair and pink skin? She could picture the bucks' faces now, seeing her arm in arm with him. "Meet Varda?" she asked again, incredulous.

"Yes, yes. Me and Risten are both coming."

Risten overheard her name and looked their way, glancing from Aslak to Yana. As grateful as she was for the medicine that healed her leg, Yana had been wary of Aslak's sister since they first met. There was a shrewdness about her that the Varda found difficult to trust, and something else which had puzzled Yana until Risten caught her and Aslak together.

Yana saw how everyone in the village stared at her—some with fear, some with hate—but when Risten watched her with those cold blue eyes, she felt something else. She had been trying to place it for days, then at last it dawned on her when she saw Risten turn her back on Aslak.

Jealousy.

"I'm glad that you're so excited." Aslak took Yana's hand, gently stroking her knuckles with his thumb. "I worried you would be sad to say goodbye."

Goodbye. That was a tricky word for Yana. The Manfolk had so many uses for it, and she needed to know exactly what he meant. "Yana come back? See Aslak?"

He squeezed her hand. "Any time you like. And if your people will let me, I hope that I can come and visit you, too."

With a sly grin, Yana turned Aslak's hand over and dropped the spearhead in his palm. "Aslak welcome. Visit Yana, stay in Yana's oumi." She stretched out on floor strewn with rushes, laying her head in Aslak's lap. One of the few perks of losing her right antler was all the ways she could get closer to him. "Oumi better than longhouse. Only room for two."

His cheeks flushed red, and he couldn't bring himself to look at Yana's mischievous smile, but Aslak stroked the fur atop her head as he picked up his tools.

The longhouse windows were still dark when Risten shook Yana awake. "Up," she said curtly.

She tried to rise but the arm draped over her wouldn't budge. It was Aslak's. He nestled closer, muttering in his sleep, and the other arm pinned beneath Yana wrapped around her waist, pressing her slender body against his.

She couldn't say for sure which of them had left their bedroll in the night. She only remembered laying her head on Aslak's chest and breathing in his scent as she drifted back to sleep.

"You too, letch." Risten stooped down to twist Aslak's ear. He groaned drowsily and swatted at her hand. "We need to make an early start if we'll get home by nightfall."

"Spend night with tribe?" Yana suggested. "Back home tomorrow."

"We're coming home tonight. Both of us." The way Risten said it left no room for argument.

They ate their breakfast porridge in drowsy silence, letting Isak sleep in until it was time to say their goodbyes. Yana was surprised when the old man spread his burly arms for a hug.

"Travel safe, little one," his gruff voice spoke softly. "You're welcome back in this village any time, and you'll always have a place to stay."

As they leaned apart, Isak took something from his pocket and pushed it into her hand. It was the figurine he had been carving, a tiny hunter. A man with a cape across his shoulders and a spear in his hand.

"There may be grey hairs on my chin, but I can still remember when someone looked at me the way you look at the boy. The lucky fool." He folded Yana's fingers around the carving. "Hold on to the things you care about, little one. Not all of them can be replaced."

They were deep in the Brightwood by midday, among towering trees full of chittering birds and squirrels that leapt from branch to branch. Yana led the way with Aslak at her side, reaching out to steady herself on his strong arm when their path took them over jutting roots a stream fed by the rivers that flowed down from the north.

Unlike Aslak, who could blend into the woods when he ventured ahead alone to scout the trail, Risten looked ill at ease in the forest. With her dainty walk and the pale, freckled skin that she flaunted in her revealing garb, she looked like young bride who had been spirited into the woods on her wedding night. Each time Yana glanced backward to check on her, the redhead seemed to be fascinated by something off the trail, staring at mushrooms or a bird's nest, at anything but Yana.

"Risten angry." She knew it was a massive understatement, but it was the best Yana could manage in the Manfolk's language.

"She's like the rest of my people." Aslak shifted his spear to the other shoulder, staring down pensively. "They've been told lies about the Varda all their lives. It will take time before they learn to trust you."

"But not Aslak."

He broke into a smile that set Yana's heart fluttering. "Not me, no. But you have to understand, I was raised the same way as my sister. I had to be shown how wrong I was."

There was Yana's problem in a nutshell. She had always been able to talk her way out of trouble, breaking up fights between her lovers by soothing their bruised egos, or arguing with her parents until they saw things her way. Without her words, the best that she could do was smile at the Manfolk, and hardly any of them were inclined to smile back.

Just as she was trying to think the problem through, something caught Yana's eye and drew her off the trail. "Look!"—she pointed ahead—"hiva!"

The siblings trailed her to a bush full of red berries that gleamed like jewels in the sunlight. As she knelt down to search among the wiry branches, Aslak plucked one of the fruits and brought it to his lips.

"Don't put that in your mouth," Risten scolded. "Just because she can eat them, doesn't mean you can."

Aslak locked eyes with her, tossed the berry into his mouth and chewed it. "I've had these plenty of times before. They're sweet."

"Yes. Sweet berry." Yana stood, cradling a pile of green buds in her hands. "Red, sweet fruit. Green, make hiva for moon dance." She took a whiff of the buds and their earthy smell, then held them out for Aslak to do the same. Risten folded her arms and wrinkled her nose.

"Moon dance?"

"Yes, what's that?" asked Aslak.

Yana dumped the buds into a shoulder bag that Aslak had lent her and thought over how best to explain something they were sure to find completely ridiculous.

"In winter, when night grows, Varda light fire under full moon and drink hiva."

"Sounds about right," Risten muttered under her breath.

"And so, you dance all night under the moon?"

Yana chuckled and shook her head. "Moon dance not dancing… moon dance means bucks and does—"

"Yes," Risten interrupted, "we understand, now. And I suppose this hiva is a potion that… puts you in the mood to dance."

Yana nodded, trading knowing glances with Aslak. "Hiva fills body with moon spirit. Every touch feels…" She chewed her lip and shrugged. "Can't say. Only feel."

"Well, there you have it." Risten brushed past Yana and snatched a berry from the bush, pinching it between her fingers. "Maybe there was more than a hint of truth in all those stories about Varda charms and love potions."

"Don't be ridiculous," Aslak snapped. "She told you they make it for a ceremony, they don't go traipsing through our villages, pouring it in our mugs."

"Only because we know better than to let them in."

Aslak threw his spear aside and grabbed hold of Risten's wrist. The redhead glowered up at him, lips pursed and blue eyes smoldering. Yana threw herself between them with a cry in her own language and Aslak shrank back instantly, looking ashamed of himself.

"I'm going to scout ahead," he announced, picking up his spear and marching off.

"Be careful," Risten shouted at his back. "There's all sorts of creatures lurking about."

When she turned back to Yana, eyes flashing, the Varda realized her warning had been a hidden insult. She busied herself plucking berries and buds, sorting them into piles inside her bag. When she looked up again, Risten was still glowering at her side.

"Is that how you did it?" she asked. Yana's hand froze over a berry.

"Did what?"

"Did you poison my brother with your hiva so he would forget what you are?"

Yana balked, stunned to silence by the ridiculous question, then broke into laughter. She had never needed any help to catch a lover's eyes—Varda or Manfolk—and was astonished that Risten could think so little of her. She was about to say so when Risten grabbed hold of her antler and pulled fiercely, throwing her to the ground.

"Answer me, beast!"

Yana rolled away, rising to her hooves with her head bowed and her good antler pushed forward. "Try again," she challenged. "Ready now!"

Risten's hand slid to the dagger on her belt, but she didn't draw it. "Do you really think my brother could love a creature like you?" Her lips curled up into a bitter smile. "You're nothing more to him than a pet."

Yana dug one hoof into the dirt, bracing herself for a lunge that never came. Risten only stood with her hand on the dagger's hilt, smiling her taunting smile. She's waiting for me to make the first move, Yana realized. She might not even draw that blade, she only wants me to prove to Aslak than I'm nothing but a beast.

She straightened up, eyes narrowed in disgust as she showed Risten her open hands. "Call Yana pet, beast, anything. But Yana was never jealous of pets."

Risten's smile faltered for a heartbeat. Then her face twisted into a mask of rage. She surged forward with a snarl that Yana could scarcely believe had come from a Manfolk. Fear held her rooted to the spot while Risten crashed into her, hurling them both to the forest floor. Yana tried to push her off, but Risten had a hold on her antler, and as she wrenched it the pain held Yana paralyzed.

"Jealous?! You think I'm jealous of you?" Risten yanked the antler, forcing Yana to look her in the eye. "That's where you're wrong. You only think Aslak is yours. He belongs to me. And if you try any more of your tricks, I'll—"

She froze and raised her head, listening to the birds chirp and the rustle of leaves throughout the forest. Yana tried to stifle her ragged breaths so she could hear more, but it was impossible with Risten straddling her chest. Finally, she caught the warble of a songbird that had no business being in the deep woods.

"That's Aslak," Risten whispered. "Something's wrong."

She crawled off Yana to hide behind a stout tree, shushing her as a coughing fit wracked the Varda's body. When she had recovered, and crept beside Risten, they both swept the forest with their eyes, searching among the trees and the shadowy underbrush for any signs of danger.

Aslak appeared from the bushes nearby and darted behind his own tree. His hands signed, Down, quiet, and all three of them laid on the grass and scattered leaves, holding their breath.

Yana smelled them before she saw them. It was the stink of blood and meat that every Varda knew to fear, the same one she had been running and hiding from since she was a fawn. She pinched her nose to keep the stench out and would have shut her eyes if she could, but being caught unawares by a Bagi could only mean certain death.

Risten gasped, then clapped a hand over her mouth. A moment later Yana had her first glimpse of the pack, a shadow gliding between the trees. Soon there were two more, a dozen more, hazy figures in the distance slowly growing sharper, more real and terrible.

They walked with a stoop, their pointy-eared heads level with their square shoulders, long arms hanging at their sides as they stuck their noses in the air. A few of them dropped on all fours to sniff the dirt, following stray scents that led closer to Aslak's hiding place. Yana saw him grip his spear, sliding it out from under his body, readying himself to fight.

A howl from deep in the forest broke the unnerving silence and the pack in front of Yana answered. Their piercing cries made her fur stand on end. The Bagi turned in unison, like a flock of birds, and retreated into the shadows on the horizon. Yana let herself catch her breath for the first time in what felt like minutes as her heartbeat pounded in her chest.

She startled when something touched her back, then realized it was only Aslak.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, taking Yana's hand to pull her up. "Your nose…" He wiped at his top lip. Yana copied the gesture and felt warm blood stick to your fingertips.

Risten stood watching them just a few steps away, her hand on her dagger's hilt again. Her face had regained its stoic composure, but her cold blue eyes still burned with hate. "Lucky for you they didn't smell that."

"Lucky for us all."

"But what happened?" Aslak took Yana's face in his hands tenderly as he looked her up and down. The dirt smeared on her tunic told of worse than simply hiding from the Bagi, and when their eyes met Yana worried that he would guess everything. But he turned to Risten with a look of pure confusion, no accusation, and Yana realized he wasn't ready to hear the truth about her.

"Yana fine." She wiped her nose with the back of her wrist as she pulled away from him. "Need to hurry. Bagi too close Yana's tribe, could be danger."

Risten scoffed then stepped in front of Aslak. "We can't stay out here with those beasts, we need to turn back."

"Yana's right, her people could be in danger if the Bagi are prowling around."

"We're in danger!" Risten blurted out. She grabbed hold of Yana's arm as the Varda started down the trail again. "Tell him you can go the rest of the way on your own. Make him turn back!"

Aslak was already moving to break them up, but when Yana turned around the look on her face made him stop short. Even she was taken aback by the anger that swelled inside her.

"Make him?" She shrugged off Risten's hand. "Can't. Aslak doesn't belong to Yana."

She strode away without sparing a look back. It was only a few moments before Aslak fell in step beside her, draping his arm around her shoulders. "You showed her your mettle. I can't remember the last time I saw someone tame Risten." Yana sighed.

Not tamed, she thought. Not by a long shot. The redhead's trudging footsteps followed them deeper into the Brightwood. You don't even know how wild she really is.