Chương 97: Stables and Squirt

The greenlings had hidden themselves in the part of the stables with the carts they had traveled in. When Zhadin first warped Squirt in, the greenlings didn't see them, allowing her a moment to observe. She had expected young fey with chips on their shoulders, strangers she could rage at, individuals she could dismiss out of hand as idiots and move on with her life. Instead, while there were definitely some of those present, the group was truly a mix of all types.

Older greenlings who should have retired, gray streaks in their green hair. Young ones that couldn't have received their names from the greenling Council of Elders yet. Disabled ones with missing limbs, including one with her hands missing, the tale of her punishment in the scars of what was left of her wrists. While the rest of Everwinter was off celebrating, these ones were huddled together, all of their faces gaunt with a hunger that had to be years in the making.

Something that wasn't caused by a few missed meals, nor fixed by a few good ones. Faces she knew. Faces she had grown up with. Had laughed with. Shared meals and memories. Summer should have been when they ate the best. Squirt stared, watching them without stepping out of the shadows, overwhelmed with more emotion than she knew what to do with. Guilt. Anguish.

The distinct knowledge that she had ostracized herself, assuming that everyone else would be fine without her, only to have the ugly truth appear on her doorstep. But… Squirt's hand traced up her chest to her shoulder, resting there. Holding herself and reaching for where her wings would be in a single motion. Reliving the memories of the night her wings were shredded. The shame she carried for far too long. The shame of being a victim of what everyone else thought was a blessing. Of course she never reached out.

She had scars she carried now, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Scars that had needed time to heal. Hadn't they? No, this guilt was stupid. She had enough to carry without it dragging her down. Besides, she wasn't really one of them. Not anymore. She had abandoned the greenling code, begged Stalf to teach her how to fight just so she could defend herself from her own fey. The one she had given her name to, that she was supposed to be loyal to until her life ended.

The Sia-bitch had been brutally murdered, and it had been the best fucking day of Squirt's life. It was all bullshit. The greatest gift she'd ever received was still that bitch's head. Unconsciously, Squirt leaned back against Zhadin, exhaling sharply as she considered the logistics of her emotional baggage. Then she shook her head. No. It didn't matter. None of that mattered now. She didn't need their acceptance any more than she needed anyone's.

What mattered was that someone needed to step up, and she'd be damned if she let that someone be Dusty. None of them were prepared to live in the Outskirts. She was. She could teach them. The Wylds were more beautiful, more hospitable than the Capital had ever been. She could show them that. And then maybe, just maybe, some of them would realize the greenling ways weren't the absolute truth, that they weren't limited by the confining rules they had been indoctrinated into.

Those rules were meant for the Capital where they were the weakest, not the Wylds. Maybe the Wylds wouldn't just be her home, but theirs. And then, when someone better suited was found, she could and would step aside. Someone else would lead them. Someone who hadn't abandoned the code of self-sacrifice to choose self-worth. Someone who could reshape the code into something that made sense. Someone who wasn't fucking Dusty.

Pushing away her insecurity in favor of anger, she slapped her cheeks, fantasized about Dusty's murder, and stepped from the shadows. Those who spotted her first froze, most not recognizing her immediately. Squirt glared at them all, daring them to speak. For several long moments, the silence stretched. Squirt remaining separated from those who were once her whole world, the chasm between them seemingly insurmountable. Then someone stepped forward. Breezy.

An older fey, her green hair mostly taken over by streaks of gray, wrinkles deepened with the tired wisdom of a woman who had never stopped living decorating her face. Her hair was pulled back into the same low braid as always, though it was thinner now than it had been sixty years ago. Her fingers were thinner. Her cheeks hollowed. Her voice raspier. But it was still her.

"Gods… could it be? Squirt? Alive?" This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Over sixty years of memories slammed into Squirt unbidden, memories of a fey who had helped raise Squirt now stepping forward with wonder and tears in her eyes, evoking deep emotion in Squirt she hadn't been prepared for. Tightly, Squirt nodded. Tears slipped down the old woman's face as she stepped forward and threw her arms around Squirt.

"Gods be blessed. Gods be blessed. You're alive." Squirt froze, stiff against a hold every fiber of her being wanted to melt into. The older fey smelled faintly of lavender and smoke like she always had, and suddenly, Squirt was a child once more. A child being comforted after her first beating, celebrated after her first transmutation, and scolded after her second. Every inhale of the achingly familiar scent only threw her in deeper than before.

Breezy was someone who she would have trusted her old self to in a heartbeat. But Squirt wasn't that old self anymore. Putting her hands on Breezy's shoulders, she pushed the older woman back, forcibly shoving down the emotions threatening her.

"… why come here?" Squirt asked, her voice rough with emotion despite her best efforts. Breezy gave her a sympathetic smile full of worldly weight.

"Much has changed since your fey found you." Squirt's eyes narrowed, a deep wellspring of hatred for the Sia-bitch rising up and overcoming these other, tumultuous emotions threatening her rationality. She straightened, her eyes sharply assessing the group that was now staring expectantly at her. She should have run sooner. Damnit. Here she was, an unqualified leader, but by the gods she would at least do a better job than Dusty. First thing first, they needed food. Real food.

Something Dusty should have fucking taken care of before waltzing off to talk to her. Ignorant prick. Glaring at them all, she turned towards the shadow.

"Zhadin, the food." The rest exchanged confused glances before the shadows stretched, moving and forming into tendrils that revealed the large pots filled with supplies from Quint. Then, rather than disappearing back into the shadows, Zhadin revealed themselves as well, stepping out into the light in their fey form. It was a relief to see them. To be reminded of who she was, not who she used to be. Rather than acknowledging that, Squirt nodded at them and moved on.

Focusing in on their surroundings, her brows furrowed a touch further. Starting a fire here would be unwise. There was too much straw strewn about, too many things that could light up with a stray spark. The greenlings, meanwhile, were slowly backing away from the shadowfell, their eyes dropped in fear, accidentally justifying Squirt's alienation and adding to her irritation with them as they did. Zhadin hadn't even done anything. They were scared of their very existence when Squirt trusted them with her life.

Assholes.

"Tch," said Squirt, before snapping at them, "Knock it off." Her defensiveness of them had absolutely nothing to do with the discomfort she had already overcome. None whatsoever. Ignoring her projecting onto them, she glanced over her shoulder at the fell.

"Zhadin, is the courtyard clear?" They nodded.

"Good. You, you, you, you, and you, help me move these fuckers to the courtyard—" They disappeared into the shadows as Zhadin moved them for her, a smug expression on their face. She didn't hate it. She hated that she didn't hate it. She glowered but moved on.

"Fine. Who here is a cook?" A few hands tentatively went up.

"Good. You, you, you, and you, go get started on food." Gesturing towards the healthier, strong looking greenlings she had already pointed at for moving the stuff, she commanded, "You guys go help them with any lifting they need. Pakos will guard you." The pixies all exchanged nervous looks before one ventured, "Pakos?" his eyes darting nervously to Zhadin as if she hadn't already called their name. Her hound chose that moment to warp in and make his appearance. You called, mother dearest?

Before she knew what she was doing, she had palmed a blade. Feeling stabby, I take it. Yes, she fucking was. She glared at him.

"Guard the cooks in the courtyard." She took out her bag and pulled out two legs of deer, thrusting them out to two of the greenlings conscripted for cooking duty.

"Here. Meat for the pot." How kind of you. She glared at her hound as the shrinking greenlings took the deer legs gingerly. Keep them safe. Stay with them. For how long, mother dearest? As long as it takes, she answered vaguely, though the concept of until they didn't need to be guarded any longer translated for her. That could be days or weeks. And? As you wish. Pakos yipped, playfully trotting off, his two tails held high as he led the nervous group out the door.

Squirt watched him leave, her chest tightening uncomfortably. She hated that it felt like losing a piece of herself to something she both did not want and did not ask for. Almost as much as she hated that it was a relief to know she could rely on the hound to keep the group safe when she wasn't around. This was all so stupid. She was just one fey. Zhadin disappeared into the shadows to reappear half-in-half-out by her side, murmuring, "I believe the redcap is looking for you." Oh. Shit. Well, that was certainly…

an option. She could use the extra hands to guard them. But Qzi? Right now, she needed to get a better idea of the faces she didn't recognize to start organizing them. Something that didn't need a stab-happy borderline psychotic redcap. Then again… Gods. She trusted the redcap? What was wrong with her? Deciding abruptly that she would conscript the redcap regardless out of slight morbid curiosity of how he handled himself, she muttered, "Only if he promises to not threaten any of the greenlings."

"Even if they threaten you?"

"They're greenlings. They don't threaten anyone."

"You do." She bit back a growl of annoyance at the playful barb, realizing they were deliberately riling her by the way their grin turned just slightly sharp. She almost took the bait. Almost. She didn't. They chuckled before fading into the shadows once more. Pulling out her notebook, Squirt addressed the greenlings, deciding to take the hard stance from the outset.

"Who here is physically able and wants to learn how to fight?" They all blinked, then looked awkwardly at each other. She explained bluntly, "You're in the fucking Outskirts now, not the Capital. Get that through your thick skulls. You want your freedom from the elders? Then you better be ready to fucking fight for it and fight hard. So long as you're in the confines of the castle, there's only so much protection you'll get. You'll be safer in the Wylds than here, but like anything, it is by no means safe.

You'll need to learn how to fight. Shoot. Kill." Her eyes landed on Breezy with her last word. Breezy put her hand on her chest, taken aback.

"But—the Wylds—by the gods, Squirt, that's not—" Squirt glowered at the woman, making Breezy falter. Her fists clenched, Squirt continued bluntly, "Feybeasts this time of year can't sense us. So long as you aren't a complete idiot, you're safe from them. In the spring, if you choose to return to the Capital, then you can fight for it. Or you can do as I do, realize that the Capital is an awful fucking hellhole and stay here. At least when the beasts attack you, you can fight back.

"Now I'll ask again—who here can and wants to fight?" That insurmountable chasm filled the silence once more. Then, just as Squirt started to sweat, movement. Somewhat awed, she watched as just over half of the present greenlings stepped forward, including a couple of those clearly too young for names, likely teens based on the youth to their faces and gangly bodies. Squirt nodded, relieved and taking a moment to memorize each face that had stepped forward.

"Good. Now, who is comfortable in the stables?"