better fighter than we think. At least he has some muscle on him. Didn’t you tell us about his unusual skin, Talin?”
I nod.
“Has he mentioned anything about what he can do?” Jeran signs at me. “Or why he’s branded?”
I shake my head, thinking of the strangeness of Red’s artificial body.
“If he’s an experiment,” Adena signs after a while, “then it’s likely he isn’t the only one. There might be others like him back in the Federation. Although who the hell knows what he’s useful for.”
A silhouette stretches over us, and suddenly our hands all freeze. I look up to see Red approach our campfire. His eyes are wary, his steps as slow and cautious as if he were hunting.
Adena’s hand moves closer to one of the swords at her side, but Jeran reaches out to her without looking away from Red. He shakes his head subtly. Adena’s hand relaxes, but her stare stays on my new Shield.
“So…,” she says, letting the word trail uncertainly into an awkward silence.
Red stands there, unsure of what to do. On the top of his shoulder, his mouse sniffs the air, tentatively heading down his arm at the smell of food.
I wave him over, gesturing to the bowl sitting untouched next to me. He stares at me, then at the stew, as if it might contain poison. The mouse doesn’t hesitate. It scampers down to the ground and perches on the edge of the bowl.
Jeran looks like he might retch.
Adena makes an exaggerated cough at Red. “Just sit down and have some dinner,” she says. “Jeran here cooked it himself. You should probably show some enthusiasm.”
Jeran gives Red a nervous smile and says something to him in Karenese. Then he looks back at me and says, “I told him I’m a phenomenal cook.”
“It’s true,” Adena adds to Red, waving at Jeran to translate for her. “If you ever end up lost in the woods, this is the one you want with you. He could cook a meal out of twigs and make you crave it.”
Now Jeran is blushing and beaming at the same time. “Wild sugarweed. It’ll flavor anything, especially a good filet of white fish.”
Red glances down at them. The expression in his eyes is so searing that Adena’s hand rests back on her hilt again. The instinct that tickled the back of my mind at the arena flares up again now. What had the Federation been doing with him? What made him flee?
“No fish,” Red then says, his accent thick.
We all stare blankly at him.
“Well, we’re set,” Adena says. “He can say ‘no fish.’ We’ll all be chatting together in no time.”
“Here,” Jeran says to Red, cutting the other leg off the roasting bird and tossing it to him. “Try this instead.”
Red catches the leg, steps toward me, and takes a seat. He pushes the bowl of fish stew carefully away and bites into the meat. I watch him curiously as he eats. He stops only to pull a few strips off to lay them next to his mouse. I look on as it grabs the meat with its foot-paws and digs in.
Finally, Red holds up the leg bone and gives Jeran an approving nod. Jeran’s chest puffs up in pride.
“We’re at the warfront now,” Adena says as she studies Red. “You know anything about fighting?”
Jeran translates, and Red puts down the bone, eyes fixed on Adena as she talks.
“Yes,” he answers on his own.
Adena smiles a little at the way he enunciates the word. “What kind of fighting?”
He doesn’t answer, so I dust my hands of crumbs and stand up. My hand tightens around the hilt of one of my swords. I yank it out with a flourish—and the instant I do, I see Red tense, his body moving instinctively into what looks like a fighting position.
Adena notices too. “So you do have some training,” she says.
“Decent training too,” Jeran adds, nodding at Red’s posture.
A warning buzzes in the back of my mind. We are skirting the edges now of who he must have been in the Federation, prodding at the mystery of the title they had given him. Skyhunter. What does a Skyhunter hunt?
I nod at him to get up. When he narrows his eyes at me, I hold my free hand open and give him what I hope is a trustworthy look. Then I pull out my second blade and toss it to him.
He catches it without hesitation, like it’s an instinct he’s been waiting to use. We all stare