My warriors rode with Diligence in their wake. The pests that dwelled around Doe Hill have been chased back to the mountains without a drop of blood spilt.

Alex grabbed Ben by the strap of his overalls, snatching him away from the open flame above which the hare sat on an iron skewer, the meat's colour close to a nicely looking gold-brown colour. "Don't keep your nose so close to the fire, Muttonhead. You're gonna get yourself burned."

"But I wanna smell it so I can already taste it in my mouth." Ben tried to push her away, but it had little effect.

She laughed. "Taste in your mouth? Do you know of other ways to taste food?" She blew air through her nose, mocking her little brother's foolishness. At nine, Ben wasn't so little anymore. The day he would beat her in a fight coming closer. That wasn't allowed to happen; he and Charlie would have to be her baby brothers forever.

Ben cocked his head, revealing the puzzled look in his dark brown eyes. As he finally uttered his stammering reply, most of it got muffled by a gut-wrenching cry coming from the stables.

"What was that?" he asked. "Is Master James strangling someone again?"

"I'm gonna have a look," Alex said.

There was never a dull moment, living so close to the stable. She loved the clamour and the clatter: the banging of Master Harald applying new horseshoes, the horses neighing before feeding time; even Master James shouting at the stable boys when they got covered in horse dung.

But this was different. That anxious shrieking accompanied by wailing—she recognised Fox's hysterical voice anywhere. He may be a puddingbrain and the biggest coward known to men, but it sounded like he was in real trouble.

She was not going to let that happen. With large strides, she marched to the back of the room to get her bow and quiver. "Mother, if I'm not back in time for dinner, you can give my portion to Charlie and Ben."

"Honey, Ben's right. It's one of the stable boys." Mother stood strategically between her bed and the wall, blocking Alex's way out. As if that would stop her. "The potatoes are boiling. The hare is almost ready. We'll have dinner in no time."

"But I have to go."

"After dinner," Mother said sternly.

"You don't understand—you never do." She swung the quiver onto her back, drawing one arrow out in case she needed to attack. "Father would have. He would have even joined me."

"I loved your father, but he could be very impulsive. Don't be like him, honey. I don't want you..." Mother didn't finish her sentence. She didn't have to. Back in the day, Lord Brandon only had to shoot him one glance, and off they went to embark on a new adventure. No questions asked.

She knew the tattle and whispers that went round in Laneby but believed none of it. Father's death had not been a punishment from the God of Pride. He had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time when that stupid bear had woken up from its hibernation.

"I know what I'm doing." Alex slipped between her mother and the wall, ramming her shoulder into Father's painting. The Jade Islandic ship plummeted to the ground, splinters of its wooden frame flying as far as the old rug underneath Charlie's high chair. 

She bolted off.

"Alexandra, get back here!" Mother always used her full name when she was cross, but if she thought those few extra letters would help, she would be wrong again. "I can always tie you to a chair. I mean it. One more step and—"

As she hit the door handle, little Charlie put on his waterworks. "No, Benny, my doll."

"But it will be so much prettier without a head, Charlie," Ben said.

"No, no, no... Mother!"

Alex left. She ran down their stone-filled garden, then dashed through the thorn-bushes, Alex muttered a quick thank you to the God of Greed to infest Ben's mind so Mother would have other worries. She leapt over the low fence separating both properties, then slowed down. The only way to catch the culprit was by sneaking into the stable and pouncing when he least expected it, just the way Lord Brandon had taught her.

She skulked in. The stable master whose belly was growing bigger while his blonde hair grew thinner was holding Fox by the collar of his mud-stained shirt. "My horses have more wit than you, you useless dollop-head! May the God of Sloth damn you so you won't be able to lift a finger for the rest of your life."

Thick tears streamed down Fox's red cheeks. "It was an accident. I didn't mean to... I... I just wanted to help."

"Helping? You call this helping?" Master James held a pair of horseshoes above his own dollop-shaped head. "Here, let me help you knock some sense into that thick skull of yours."

Alex nocked an arrow on her bow and stretched the string. He had gone a step too far. "Let him go. Now."

"Nobody asked the opinion of little girls."

"Think again."

"What?" As the burly man turned around, all colour left his blemished face. His overly large Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He dropped Fox, who smacked to the ground with a yelp. "Saved by a girl. You're even more pathetic than I thought. I can't wait for our Lord to give you the beating you deserve."

Fox hobbled up to her, holding tight to his right hand. Blood was oozing from the wound, turning the wooden floor into a crimson mess of straw and dirt.

"Why were you going to hit my friend?" She still kept her bow nocked. If the man lashed out, she would shoot him in the leg so he'd remember this day for the rest of his life.

Master James was yammering incomprehensibly when a soft pat landed on her shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder, meeting Lord Brandon's stern green eyes.

 "That's enough. Take Fox to the river and wait there." As if the look in his eyes wasn't enough, his sturdy frown told her her little adventure was over. "Close the door on your way out. Master James and I need to have a chat, in private."

"Yes, My Lord." She lowered her bow and swung it across her back. "But you will punish him, won't you? He wanted to attack Fox."

"And you wanted to attack my stable master."

"As revenge."

"For what?" He didn't blink.

The God of Wrath was creeping on her back, inches from crawling into her mind. Since her fury was not with the Lord, she took Fox by the hand and stalked outside.

With a shattering bang, she smacked the door shut. It may scare the horses, but if it hadn't been for her, Fox would be walking around with a deep gash in his head.

But the truth was that she didn't know why Fox had been in the stable in the first place. A dozen men led by Master Frederic were heading towards the forest with ropes, reins, and a bag of... apples. She squeezed Fox. "What in the Gods' names did you do?"

He sobbed, wiping his eyes with his dirty hand, leaving smears of blood all over his face. "I ruined Seb's birthday. I heard a noise... I went in... There was a colt, and I wanted to feed it, but then it got out and... and..."

"Oh Fox, you Muttonhead." The Goddess of Charity chased her brother Wrath away. Alex fished her handkerchief out of her pocket. "Here, use this while we walk to the river to get you cleaned."

"I can't go there." He buried his face in the cloth, sobbing even louder. "F-F-Father needs the wood... or the forge will go out. I don't want to ruin his oth-other present too, Alex."

"Shhh, I can bring it." She stepped on the bundle of wood that lay by the stable door and yanked the rope to tighten the knot around it. "Don't you worry. Frederic is leading the men, and you know how great Nick's father is with horses. If anyone can catch it, it will be him. Mark my words, Seb's birthday party will still be the biggest event of the year."

"Are you sure?" He paused, glancing into the direction of Master Frederic and the warriors, then back at Alex. "Okay, I believe you. But you have to come back. I don't like being by myself."

She chuckled, prodding his belly with one of the branches that was sticking out. "Everyone knows the world will crumble down if you're left alone for too long. I will be back before you can count to a hundred."

"To a hundred? Is that a promise?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'm gonna start now. One, two, three..."

Fox's counting song quickly disappeared into the background as her feet flew over the dusty sand that covered the small path between the stables and the smithy. Nothing could stop her; not even the rock behind which the branches got stuck. She jerked the rope and continued running.

As she kicked the door open, the hammer's thumping was the only sound to greet her. Master Harald did not look up from the steaming iron blade on his anvil. He was so caught up in his own blacksmithing world that it was unlikely he had heard anything of the uproar in the stable. The strange man didn't even notice her pussyfooting to the forge in the back of the room.

She picked out seven arm-long branches that would spark the glowing embers again, then threw them onto the hearth. Fox could do the rest later.

As she headed back, the blacksmith looked up from his work. He startled, nearly dropping his hammer. "Alex? What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?" he grumbled, then immediately added with a sigh. "Alright, what did Fox do this time?"

"He let a horse escape." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, already regretting telling Master Harald the truth. "But he got hurt. And Master James was so furious that he wanted to bash your son's skull with a horseshoe."

The blacksmith rubbed some sweat from his light blonde fringe. "What was the puddinghead doing with a horse? He was supposed to get wood."

She raised her hands. "Don't ask me, Master Harald. I don't know either. Just a messenger and deliverer of wood."

He didn't even thank her. "Ugh... he's crying, isn't he?"

"Yeah, shall I ask Rose to—"

"No, I'll come. My wife is too soft on him." He placed his hammer against the anvil. "It's about time the little runt starts acting his age. He's ten, not six."

Alex had to agree with him.

She led him to the river, where Fox was standing in the water—shoes and all—washing the blood off his hands. He was still counting; though much slower than before. "Eighty-four, eighty-five,..."

Master Harald grabbed him by the shoulder to tug him out. "Not with your brand new boots still on, you senseless nitwit."

It was enough for Fox to start bawling again, which only seemed to increase the blacksmith's frustration. "Those tears of yours may work on the women in this town, but not on me. Speak up, child, what in the God of Wrath's name were you doing in the stable?"

Fox's wailing was almost as incomprehensible as the stable master's yammering had been. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. Wanting to help and then messing it all up by being a clumsy oaf was such a typical Fox thing to do.

"I don't know what I have done to the Gods of Sin to deserve an imbecile like you." The blacksmith pushed the wound, which made Fox yelp out in pain. "Scared of your own shadow, but dumb enough to try and act like a hero when it's not even necessary. You're worse than a useless ox."

"I'm sorry." Fox clutched his hand back to his chest, his gaze set on the ground.

Again, the blacksmith had a point, but there was no need to be this harsh on Fox. She should have fetched his mother instead. After all, Rose was the sweetest woman in all of Laneby. Winter or summer, whenever Alex and her family were hungry, there was always a spot at the table available for them.

But it was no secret that Fox and his father didn't get along. Whenever you met one of them, chances were that one was always complaining about the other.  

She had to find a way to cheer Fox up. Tomorrow was Sunday—the only day of the week that she wasn't off with the hunting patrol. Usually, she helped Mother doing the laundry or cleaning the house, but perhaps she could make the necessary arrangements to spend it with Fox instead.

Of course she would have to wash all of Ben and Charlie's clothes today and mend the frame that she had broken. The night was still young. She could do it. "Hey, Fox, why don't we go on a short hunting trip tomorrow? I'll let you use my bow and arrows so you can practise."

"A hunting trip!" His green eyes began to twinkle. "Can I go, Father, please? I won't be scared when Alex, Seb, and Nick are with me."

"You don't deserve it, boy, and you know it. But something needs to happen to turn you into a real man." His Father yanked at Fox's arm. "No more shenanigans. We still have plenty of work to finish Sebastian's sword. One more tear tonight, and you can spend the entire day behind the forge. Is that understood?"

His red hair bounced up and down as he nodded. "I promise, Father. In Diligence's name, I shall do my bestest best."

Silence fell between them as they waited for Lord Brandon. The stars slowly pushed the lasts bits of red below the horizon. Fox was constantly fidgeting with the handkerchief that Alex had given him. She wanted to pull him into a hug, but it would only make him more uncomfortable. He didn't like it when anyone fussed over him in front of his father, as if it made him seem unworthy of becoming a warrior.

Fox was scared of almost everything, and Lord Brandon was hardly an exception, which made no sense at all. As head of the town, the man handled every conflict between two people—whether it be great or small. He always ensured everybody had a chance to tell their side of the story. He didn't punish anyone unless he felt they really deserved it, and he was a firm believer in second chances. And Alex had been at the receiving end of the occasional third and fourth chance too.

Lord Brandon casually strolled onto the beach and sat down on the large rock next to the one Fox was sitting on. "The stables look like someone committed a murder there. Show me that hand of yours, lad. Are you in a lot of pain?"

Fox stretched his arm, his voice low but squeaky. "No, but I am so sorry, My Lord. I really am... I didn't want to... I..."

"I know you didn't do it on purpose." Lord Brandon studied the wound, briefly touching the skin around it, then turned to the blacksmith. "Harald, I need you to go to the tavern and ask them for a glass of brandy."

"Brandy? But I'm not—"

"Not for you. For the boy."

"B-B-But, My Lord, he's ten years old."

"To pour over his hand, Harald. We don't want the wound to get infected. The boy has a deep cut, and a blacksmith without his two hands is a real cripple, don't you agree?"

"Yes. Of course. I am on my way, My Lord."

Lord Brandon waited for the blacksmith to disappear into town, then turned to Fox and winked. "I figured it might be easier for us to talk without your father interrupting us all the time. Now, between you, me, and Alex, what really happened tonight?"

Fox curled the handkerchief around his finger. "Erm... I was in the forest, getting wood, when I suddenly heard something rustling in the shrubs by the large birch trees."

"A horse?" Lord Brandon threw his head back, laughing.

The fresh light of the waxing moon was strong enough to reveal the blush forming on Fox's tear-stained face. "No, not a horse. I don't know what it was but I got really scared. I don't like going to the forest at night."

"You never like going to the forest by yourself." Alex sniggered. "I bet that rustle was a squirrel or a hare."

"You think so too, My Lord?" Fox looked at Lord Brandon with begging eyes. "It sounded like a really big monster. I'm sure, really sure."

"Yeah, the lady here is probably right, Foxy." He patted the boy on the back. "But pray tell me... what does this have to do with Sebby's runaway horse?"

"Nothing. I thought it might have been important."

When Fox had finally managed to tell the whole story, Lord Brandon gave him another pat on the back. "Now that it's all cleared up, I'll ask Master James to get rid of the mice in the stable. And you, lad, be a little more careful around frightened horses in the future. Scared creatures are far more dangerous than an angry one. Never forget that."

"I never will, My Lord. I will always remember it." Fox hiccuped softly, then gazed back into the distance when his father appeared out of the darkness.

"Perfect timing, Harald," Lord Brandon said. "Take the boy and that brandy back to the smithy. If I'm not mistaken, you two still have a lot to do tonight."

"We do, My Lord." The blacksmith paused, eyeing Fox. The boy slumped off the rock and joined his father, who pulled him close. "When Sebastian's sword is ready, it will be like one fit for a prince."

"A prince?" Lord Brandon snorted a laugh, but it wasn't one of happiness. "He'll like that. Thanks, Harald. I really appreciate it."

Just as the two left, the cool summer breeze picked up, blowing Alex's hair in front of her eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ears again. It was time she headed home as well. The chores weren't going to magically do themselves.

She had barely taken a step when Lord Brandon addressed her with his deep, firm voice. "Not so fast, you."

"Yes, My Lord." She crossed her arms in front of her. He couldn't punish her for wanting to teach Master James a lesson. The stable master got what he deserved. Who would ever hit a child with a horseshoe? It was cruel and sinful.

"You're a great warrior. One of my best. I've hardly ever seen anyone work the bow the way you do it. It's almost art. For a girl, you're surprisingly strong and agile, and—"

"For a girl?" She put her foot up against the rock. It was hardly the time to stand up for her rights as a female warrior, but she couldn't help herself. She was better than the men her age. Way better.

He ignored her remark. "When I was a young lad, my father always told me the story of Bogdan the Bold. Do you know that one?"

"Of course, I'm friends with Nick. He tells stories all the time."

"How could I forget?" He poked his elbow into her side. "Since you know it so well and my old brain is faltering, why don't you remind me how it goes?"

She sighed. Did she really have to? "Bogdan was a gifted warrior—best in all the five kingdoms—and married to the most beautiful woman in all of The Greenlands. After winning the prestigious tournament of Sundale, some King made him a Lord. But the God of Pride infested Bogdan's mind. He never took no for an answer and even threatened people to get his way."

"Short but accurate version, yes. Tell me what happened next?"

"He got furious when the King asked him to share a portion of his wealth to build a new orphanage. Bogdan the Bold raised his sword to pierce the King's throat, and one of the guards shot him in the head."

"Do you understand now what you did? And why it was wrong?"

"No."

"Look at me." Lord Brandon grabbed her face with both his hands. "Promise me to never ever again resort to violence to settle a dispute. You have to promise me, Alex. Defy the Gods of Sin, whatever the costs. Violence only leads to more violence. Believe me."

"I will defy the Gods of Sin. All of them." She spoke more out of shock than true obedience. The tale of Bogdan the Bold was a story. "I promise. You'll never have to be disappointed in me again."

"Good girl." He patted her cheek. Something was wrong with him. His face was strangely contorted with wrinkles that weren't normally there. A sudden cold breeze hit her in the face. The last time she had seen her Lord so vulnerable and emotional was when Father had died.

"What's wrong, My Lord? Did I upset you?"

"No." He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. "You did upset your mother. Go home. Make amends."

She left without saying anything. When the right words failed, it was better to let silence talk.

Nick would have known what to say, though. He always did. He and Seb would have to come too tomorrow. A hunting trip without her three boys was not a real hunting trip. They were worthless without her, but frankly, she needed them more than anything too.