Chapter One
The Enemy

Author's Note: the name "Llywelyn" is pronounced "lew-WELL-in"

It was a bright midsummer's day. Sixteen-year-old River Blackthorn, concealed high in a tree branch, stood watch. The nearest human village, Nightstone, was about three miles away, but at this time of year, they often ventured deep into the forest to gather blackberries.

"This is fine," Sisha had told the others. "As long as they stay out of our territory."

Which is why River stood guard. The Blackthorn clan got on well with the other creatures that lived in the forest, but they shunned and feared humans, and not without reason. After all, they had been responsible for the Calamity.

River Blackthorn was a longtooth, but people often said he looked more like a human, as he had a thick, muscular frame and was only six feet tall. He was skinnier and taller than most humans, but other longtooths towered above him like overgrown twigs, their gaunt, elven faces staring down at his own round, human-like one. He had dark brown hair and bright blue eyes in his normal form, but like all longtooths, he could also transform into a wolf. This was useful for chasing down prey, but it was very tiring.

Suddenly, an ice-cold breeze blew from the east. It made a distinctive, unnatural rattling sound as it rustled through the surrounding leaves. That was their alarm.

There was an intruder.

Swiftly and silently, River swung from treetop to treetop until he reached the eastern end of their territory. Then he nearly fell out of his tree.

From his perch, he could see (and unfortunately, smell) a great lumbering bugbear, swinging its axe wildly at a small, cowering figure.

Thinking quickly, he came up with a plan. He muttered a desperate prayer to the Grandmother Spirit, then shouted, "OI!"

Just as he had hoped, the bugbear turned around, looking for the source of the noise. But River was too quick. Under the cover of the thick foliage, he leapt over the bugbear's head to another tree, shifted into his wolf form, and pounced. His fangs sunk into the back of the bugbear's neck.

Damn, bugbear blood is disgusting, he thought, as it spurted into his mouth.

"YOU WILL…PAY!" the bugbear screamed.

River tried to move, but his fangs were stuck. The bugbear grabbed him by the tail and threw him to the ground. Thinking fast, River twirled himself upright and landed softly on all fours. He growled as the bugbear lumbered toward him, raising its axe.

"YOU…LITTLE…"

It stopped short and staggered back. It had lost too much blood to keep fighting.

"You…will feel…wrath of Nash…next time…"

It slinked off, pressing a hand to its neck to stop the bleeding. River gave a victorious howl.

"You saved my life!" said a voice nearby. "Thank you!"

River turned to face the speaker.

The first thing River noticed was that this creature was a human, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. The second thing River noticed was that he was handsome. Very handsome. With flaming red hair, and emerald green eyes, and…

He stopped dead. He couldn't think that way about a human! They were the enemy! He had to run away, or call for help, or attack!

Then again, he had just saved the human's life. It would be rude if he scampered off without even saying hello. What was the harm in common courtesy?

"Not a problem," he said, shifting back into his normal form and holding out his hand. "I'm River. River Blackthorn."

The human's eyes widened slightly. He didn't take River's hand.

"You're a…you're a longtooth?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at his shoes. "Nice to meet you, River. I'm Llywelyn Sayer."

Llywelyn reached out, and for the first time in his life, River shook hands with a human.

"Do you think…" Llywelyn hesitated. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Do you think you could walk me out of the forest? If there are any more bugbears in here, I don't want to be caught alone."

Had River been thinking, he would have refused instantly. Talking with Llywelyn was bad enough: if Sisha found out that he had escorted a human out of the forest, she would be apoplectic. The trouble was, he wasn't thinking. He was sixteen, and Llywelyn was a very handsome boy.

"Of course!" he said. "Let's get a move on."

"Oh, thank you!" said Llywelyn. He smiled, and River's heart skipped a beat. He had dimples. Impossibly adorable dimples.

The further they went, the more relaxed Llywelyn seemed to become. River, on the other hand, had a tight knot in his stomach. He was breaking his clan's rules, and he was with a very cute boy, and he was torn between the urge to stare at his beautiful face and the urge to keep his eyes planted firmly to the ground.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Then Llywelyn broke the silence.

"You speak Common very well," he said. "Where did you learn?"

Longtooths, like most native races in the Savage Frontier, spoke Mishran. It was the language of the mishri, an extinct race that had ruled the whole Frontier in ancient times. Humans, who had only begun settling the Frontier in the last century, spoke Common.

"Oh…uh…" said River, flustered. "My clan raised me to speak it. They wanted me to be able to tell any humans who wandered into our territory to shove off."

"Do they not like humans, then?" Llywelyn asked.

"Not in the slightest. They think you're all soulless killers."

"They do? Why?"

He had said too much.

"It's…kind of a long story."

"Oh, okay," said Llywelyn. He clearly wanted to know more, but he didn't pry. River decided to change the subject.

"What do you do for a living?" he asked.

"My parents run the village bakery. I help them out. That's why I was in the forest. They needed blackberries, for pies and the like." He gestured to his wicker basket. "I've been to the forest loads of times, actually, but I've never run into a bugbear before. Are they common?"

"Not really, no. Usually, the most dangerous things in there are grizzlies. But we longtooths are as dangerous to them as they are to us, so we stay out of each others' way.

Their conversation continued pleasantly after that. So pleasantly, in fact, that neither of them noticed when they reached the forest's edge. It wasn't until River found himself standing at the gate to the village that he realized what he'd done.

"I should head back," he said.

"Okay," said Llywelyn. "See you around. And again, thank you for saving me."

He kissed River swiftly on the cheek, then passed through the gate.

River was in a foul mood for the rest of the day. How could he have been so stupid, so reckless, to catch feelings for a human? They were the enemy!

That evening, he told the others about how he defeated the bugbear, and of course, they had all been proud. What didn't say, what he didn't dare say, was that there had been a human involved. That would have almost certainly started an argument.

"That was stupid, River," Sisha would have said. "You shouldn't have put yourself in so much danger just to save a human."

"Well, sorry for being a good person!" River would have sassed back.

"This isn't about good or evil," Sisha would have replied. "We can't afford to take those kinds of risks. Do you know how lucky you are to be alive?"

And so on and so forth.

River did know how lucky he was to be alive, not least because of how often Sisha reminded him. During the Calamity, River's parents gave their lives to save him, and they had told Sisha to take care of him, so that made Sisha the boss of him and he had to do whatever she said or else he was "dishonouring his parents' memory." And River could think of no easier way to "dishonour his parents' memory" than to fall in love with a human.

The trouble was, he couldn't get Llywelyn out of his head. He was so beautiful, so sweet, so fascinating…if River ever saw him again…well, he didn't know what he would do.

Then again, in all likelihood, he wouldn't see Llywelyn ever again. He'd said he'd been in the forest loads of times, and yet they'd never crossed paths before. With this comforting thought, he drifted off to sleep.

Unfortunately, Llywelyn turned up the very next morning while River was out on patrol. As soon as River spotted him, he leapt from his perch.

"What are you doing here!?" he whispered. But before Llywelyn could answer, River grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to a secluded clearing, far away from his clan's territory.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he said. "If one of the others had seen you, they might have killed you on the spot!"

Llywelyn started rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"I…well…I told my parents about what happened yesterday," he said, his voice quivering, "and they asked me to come and invite you over for supper tomorrow night, at our house in the village."

It took River a second to fully process what Llywelyn had just said. Supper, with humans, in a human village.

He swore loudly and kicked at a pebble. Llywelyn took a step back.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"I do want to! I really, really want to! It's just…if I went, and the rest of my clan found out, I'd be in so much trouble. I'm not supposed to talk to humans."

"But why, though?" Llywelyn asked.

River sighed. He didn't want to tell this story. But if Llywelyn had come all this way, he deserved an explanation.

"The Blackthorn clan used to live far away, near a different human village. But the year after I was born, winter came early, and we had no food, so we started sending scouts into the village to steal some of theirs. They must have found out about it. One night, they sent a war party into the forest to wipe us out. They nearly did. There were five children, myself included, who managed to escape. Everyone else was killed. After that, we settled here."

Llywelyn had gone white with shock.

"That's…horrible!" he whispered.

River sighed again. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to bring it up; he didn't want Llywelyn to pity him.

River, alone among his clanmates, was too young to remember the massacre. Even still, it haunted the others in their dreams; even still, they sometimes woke in the middle of the night, screaming in terror. But to River, the massacre's victims were only nebulous figures, their names half-remembered, their faces indistinct, invented by his mind's eye. Was he sorry they had died? Of course, he was. But he didn't miss them. How could he? Sisha, Geckar, Mosar, and Willow were the only family he had ever known, and they were a good family. He'd grown up happy and well-fed. He didn't think he ought to be pitied.

"Well, I guess I'll go then," said Llywelyn, looking dejected. He turned to leave, and in that moment, River made up his mind.

"Wait!" he called out. "I'll be there tomorrow."

"You will? But what about your clan?"

"I'll think of a cover story. But why should I have to follow this stupid rule? I'm sixteen years old. I can fend for myself."

Llywelyn's face lit up.

"Good! I'll meet you at the north gate to the village, at half-past five!"

They lay side by side in Llywelyn's back garden. A cool summer breeze whipped their faces as they watched the meteor shower.

"This is nice," said Llywelyn.

"Yeah, it is," River agreed.

Two years had passed since the day they first met, and in that time, River and Llywelyn had become close friends.

Llywelyn and his parents lived above their bakery on the south side of the village. Before he met them, River had expected Llywelyn's parents to be stiff and formal. But the first time he visited, he discovered that Dafydd and Sarah Sayer were just about the nicest people in the whole world. Mr Sayer, a stout, balding man with large glasses and a kind smile, greeted him warmly, while Mrs Sayer, who had her son's red hair and emerald eyes, served up a sumptuous feast: pork chops glazed in applesauce, baked potatoes, and blackberry pie for dessert. Never, in his whole life, had River eaten such delicious food.

From then on, River and Llywelyn visited each other every few days. Sometimes, Llywelyn came to the forest. They spent many happy hours exploring the woods, mingling with River's dryad friends, or just talking. Llywelyn even started learning Mishran. Other times, River came to the village. Mrs. Sayer had told him that he was always welcome in their home, and she had meant it. If he ever wanted a warm meal or the luxury of sleeping in a real bed, all he had to do was turn up.

For the first time in his life, River was glad he was short enough to look like a human. The Sayers didn't care that he was a longtooth, but they were the exception.

"Most humans don't care for your kind," Llywelyn had explained once. "The turning into a wolf thing freaks a lot of people out. And some people think you're heathen scum since you don't worship the Solar Empress. It's all rubbish!"

Of course, it wasn't just the villagers who had to be kept in the dark. River could only imagine how angry the other Blackthorns would be if they found out about Llywelyn. So, over the last two years, he had spun an elaborate web of lies to explain his newfound habit of disappearing in his spare time. His dryad friends were in on the con. One of them, Olivis, even pretended to be River's boyfriend, so he could say they were going on dates.

He didn't like sneaking around, but all in all, it was worth it. River liked being Llywelyn's friend.

And yet, try as he might, he couldn't help the way Llywelyn made him feel.

He was still the cutest guy River had ever met, but it was more than that. It was everything. Like the way he rubbed the back of his neck when he was nervous. Or the way he seemed to know everything, since he spent so much time reading. Or the way he could sit, lost in his thoughts, for hours on end, which was impressive to River, who could barely sit still for five minutes. Or his singing voice, which was so beautiful that when he sang, even the birds fell silent. Even after two years, River's heart still skipped a beat whenever Llywelyn smiled.

For two long years, he hadn't admitted any of this to Llywelyn himself. He had, however, ranted about it mightily to his dryad friends, especially his longtime best friend, Asura.

"Riv, you've got to tell him how you feel," she had told him after one such tirade.

"It's not that simple!" River had said. "What if he doesn't feel the same way?"

"Why shouldn't he? You've got it all. You're kind, you're clever, you've got boyish good looks and a rockin' bod…"

"I'm short!"

"Short for a longtooth. You're a head taller than he is, remember?"

"Fair enough. But that doesn't mean he for sure has feelings for me. What if I tell him and he decides he doesn't want to be friends with me anymore?"

"Do you really think he'd throw away your whole friendship over that? I know Llywelyn Sayer. He cares a great deal about you. He would understand."

"I suppose…"

Asura groaned.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! Riv, if you don't tell him soon, I'll do it myself."

"Susu…"

"No, Riv, I'm putting my foot down! This has gone on far too long! He's your friend! He deserves to know how you feel! And you deserve to know if he feels the same way! And I deserve not to have to listen to you whinging about this anymore!"

River threw up his hands.

"Fine. You win. I'll tell him. But how?"

"There's supposed to be a meteor shower ten days from tonight. Invite him to watch it with you. It'll be the perfect ambience."

So here they were. He had thought that maybe, when the moment came, admitting his feelings would be easier. But that wasn't the case. He didn't have a clue what to say or how to say it. All he had was a knot in his stomach.

"Whoa!" cried Llywelyn, pointing up.

River saw it too: a huge meteor that had streaked across the sky.

Then Llywelyn did something strange. He cupped his hands over his mouth, whispered something into them, and raised them toward the sky.

"What was that?" River asked.

"Oh…um…" Llywelyn said, rubbing the back of his neck. "When I was a kid, they said that if you make a wish on a falling star, it'll come true. It's probably a silly wives' tale, but it's fun. You should try it."

River knew exactly what to wish for.

"I wish Llywelyn would kiss me," he whispered, before raising his own hands into the air. He knew it was stupid. The only way his wish could possibly come true is if he spoke up. But he didn't want to speak up. Just the thought of it made him feel queasy.

"Are you okay?" Llywelyn asked.

Shit! Was it that obvious he was torn up about something? Damn it all to hell!

Well, it was now or never.

Mustering every last ounce of courage, River took a deep breath and said,

"I'm really glad that we're friends."

That came out wrong.

"I'm…glad that we're friends too," Llywelyn said bemusedly.

"No, that's not…" He trailed off, unsure what to say.

"What is it, then?"

It was too late to turn back. River took another deep breath, then continued.

"It's a big risk, spending so much time with you," he said. "Because if my clan finds out, I'm toast. So maybe I'm supposed to regret being friends with you. But I don't. I never do. Because you're really special to me. And you're really handsome. And I really like you. As more than a friend. I…"

He looked down. Why hadn't he come up with a script beforehand? He was sure that he had ruined everything, sure that Llywelyn was disgusted, sure that they would never see each other again. Then Llywelyn grabbed his hand.

"I…feel the same way about you," he whispered.

"You do?"

Llywelyn nodded.

"It's been coming on for a while. I didn't say anything because…I was so scared I'd lose you as a friend. But I do. I really, really do."

River could hardly believe it. He felt liable to explode with happiness. For a few seconds, or maybe a few million years, he stared into Llywelyn's eyes. Then he said the thing he'd wanted to say all night, the thing he'd wanted to say for two years.

"I love you."

Llywelyn smiled.

"I love you too."

And a moment later, they were kissing. Every negative thought, that this was wrong, that his clan would be furious, that Llywelyn was the enemy, was purged from River's brain. In this moment, nothing existed but the two of them, their lips pressed together, one hand in Llywelyn's hair, the other on the small of his back. It was bliss. If Llywelyn was the enemy, then River was proud to be a traitor.