I slipped back to Alfred. The man was anxious, staring at the bonfire through the trees. "What did you find?"

I told him, being blunt about the details. "The giants can't outrun the horse. I need you to ride within eyesight of the lookout, and draw the beast away."

"What?"

I scowled. "Would you prefer to hide until I lure them past, and you can sneak into camp and try to get the people out?"

Alfred held so tight to the pommel his hands turned white.

"They can't catch up to the horse if it has a single rider. You can do this, Alfred."

He shook his head. "Can't."

I closed my eyes, a new plan formulating. I laid it out as quickly as I was able, then hurried us to position. Alfred went to the right and I waited until he was well-hidden behind a tree. I swung into the saddle and kicked the animal into a gallop. She shot forward. I tucked in my legs and bent low. I hoped I could do this. Just within range. I saw the creature, just ahead. The light of the fire.

I threw out a hand and the light from the bonfire doused with an echo of thunder. The giants rose, looked one way and the other. I had their attention anyway.

The lookout pointed, yelled something in their tongue. I wheeled the horse about, barely slowing.

I dropped the reins, pulled a foot from the stirrup. Muscles bunched, all my weight to one side. I pulled my foot out of the other stirrup, then launched off the creature's back, into a snowdrift. I rolled and scampered toward a tree.

Two of the giants thundered after the horse, practically capering after it like children chasing a cat. Coupled with that they didn't seem to know how to tan leather and barely even cleaned the skins they wore, I wasn't sure they had a mentality much beyond that of a toddler. If they didn't eat people and destroy livelihoods, I'd be tempted to feel sorry for them.

I glanced back. The remaining was on his feet and he looked one way, then another. Clumsy, slow movements. Too much muscle without as much coordination.

It said, "I know you're out dere." It spoke as if its tongue was too thick. It called something in the giant tongue. My eyes narrowed. Was there another giant I had missed? Shit.

I moved carefully among the trees, staying in shadow as the creature lumbered about the clearing, peering at branches. It swiveled suddenly toward me.

I froze, utterly still, unmoving. My fingers twitched and thaumaturgic energies rattled the branches of a tree by the camp entrance. The giant stepped toward it. I moved to the next bit of cover. I had a clear shot of the barrel, but I didn't think I'd be able to lure this one away so I could try to pry it open.

I plucked an arrow from my quiver. I handled it slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible as I readied my bow. This was the only chance I was likely to get, and it was better that some of these villagers have a chance to escape than none of them.

I bent back the bow, timing the creak with the rustle of branches, aimed at one of the crude iron bands around the metal, the badly forged joining. Pale moonlight glinted off the wet iron. I leaped forward, out of the brush, to draw the giant's attention toward myself.

The arrow flew and bit deep into the iron band, severing it. Wood broke apart and cracked to the second band. The lid of the barrel, on its side, popped open with the pressure from the desperate people within. They scrambled out, jammed together, in a stampede. I screamed, "North."

The giant turned toward it, watched in horror as its hard-earned meal scattered about the camp and the snow, taking a wide berth around the giant's massive arms in their bid to freedom.

I dove back into the underbrush. A rock half my own size landed hard where I had been a fraction of a second ago with a thud I felt shake the ground. I fumbled backward, leapt, rolled behind another bush. The giant heaved another rock I barely managed to avoid.

I aimed an arrow and shot, not at the giant, but a big, bushy tree dripping with icicles and snow. A big glob of snow fell to the ground. The giant hurled another rock toward it. I skated back, around the edge of the camp to the back of it, nearer the barrel. Most of the stampede had passed the immediate area, but there were two struggling behind, if I could get to them.

The giant whirled. I froze. The giant, in one meaty fist, uprooted a tree and heaved it toward me. I skirted aside, but its bushy branches hit my back and I was sent sprawling over ground. I groaned.

The giant ran toward me with a murderous scream. I rolled to my feet. My heart pounded. I bolted away from the creature, ducked under a branch, rolled into cover. The giant swung its head from side to side. Its enormous nostrils flared.

It said, "Smells like… ash and smoke… and sweat." It fumbled to grab a tree. With two hands, it heaved the shallow-rooted pine from the soil and pulled it over its head. With a mighty roar of anger, it hurled it. I crouched, frozen in place between terror that somehow the creature scented his location, and fear that any movement would give me away. The giant tossed the tree with an enviable precision. It crashed into a tree perhaps ten yards from me. Spooked, I sprinted from my hiding place, using the horrible sound of the colliding pines to mask my escape.

The giant gave a shake, blinking to adjust back to the low-light from the induced blindness. It swung its head from side to side, then it smiled. "Found you."

It lumbered toward me, faster at a run than I could ever be. The giant took advantage of the hilly terrain and the snow, unimpeded by obstacles I had to scramble over. I leapt over a half-rotted log. The giant swung at me. The wind from its swing brushed against my cherry skin. I landed on the log, ran along it. A second swipe of the giant's arms and I dove off the side of the log. Its big, clumsy fingers brushed my right leg, tried to catch. Two fingers grabbed my boot. I flicked a dagger along the laces and yanked my foot out of the boot.

The other hand came down to crush me.

My bow slipped from my fingers and I grabbed my sword, going into a crouch, then bolted up, into the hand coming down. The sharp blade pierced into the open palm. The giant jerked its hand back in alarm. I used the motion of my original thrust forward to propel myself back onto the fallen log. I leapt. The blade slashed along the giant's nose, splitting it cleanly in two.

The giant bellowed in pain and reeled backwards.

I bolted around it. I slashed at its ankles, but the blade caught in the rotting hides and did little to hamstring it. I cut my losses and raced from the bellowing creature. On the other side of the camp, a magical flame streaked at something I could hear but not see. The other giant.

I skidded into the camp. An old man, trapped by the stampede, lay bleeding. A young girl knelt beside him. A cursory look told me the man likely wouldn't make it. I did not think I could carry both and still escape. I pulled the girl back with one hand and turned her head around to look the other way. My rapier severed the man's spine. I cringed as I did it.

The girl was too much in shock from the events of the day to scream.

I bent and scooped her up in one hand, the sword in the other as I ran from the camp, limping slightly with only one boot.

The girl said, "But my grandpa."

I held her tight.

The giant had recovered itself, looked about the camp. It snatched up the fallen log. Pieces of the log broke and crumbed at its touch. It threw it toward us. I ducked, sliding in the snow, cradling the girl.

The log shattered against two trees just behind me. I moved smoothly back to my feet and ran. The giant would catch me, but I couldn't abandon the girl. The fires in the forest went out. Alfred.

I followed after the stampede of villagers. The giant thundered after me, confident in its ability to catch us.

I held no illusions that the creature would not torture me first, after how I had split its nose.

A horse raced up the path. A rider fired at the giant. Another.

I nearly cheered. They wore the guard armor for Targos and I had never been so happy to see them.

The horses ran back to prepare another volley, kiting the giant away from the refugees. The giant was torn between going after me, and all the meat represented in the horses. It reached for another tree.

A rider ran up to me, reaching for the child. I passed the rider the girl and the rider wheeled away. Another yanked his horse to a halt, offered me a hand up. I scrambled upwards, then said, "Alfred is in the forest—he might still be alive."

"I'm here," Alfred called, clinging to the back of another rider as the horses ran desperately out of reach of the creature. Alfred looked simultaneously as if he had had a tree dropped on him, by the state of his garments and hair, and remarkably intact for someone who had undergone such a thing.

They scattered, to make hitting more of them with its projectiles more difficult, then ran in for volleys against it. The giant receded back to the foothills in short order.

On the way back, most of the guards rode double with refugees. I didn't realize how tired I was until the adrenaline faded.

I said to Alfred, "What happened? I thought you were dead for sure."

The man thought about it, but as if he were collecting his thoughts. "Later."

I shrugged, too tired to mince words at the moment anyway. A guard nearby raised his visor and grinned. "Hail, hero. Well met."

I cringed. This was going to follow me forever, wasn't it? "I'm glad you arrived when you did. I fear what would have happened."

"When the guard captain heard that two people who aren't even from here went to investigate, he knew it would cause an uproar if something had happened. He deduced it was giants, so sent us out posthaste."

"And just in time," I breathed. But they hadn't killed the giants. Only driven them off.

The city gates would normally be long since locked for the night by the time we brought the exhausted villagers into the city but word of the goingson had spread. A throng greeted us, despite the hour. Everyone wanted to shake our hands. A bootmaker promised me a new pair of shoes for the loss, taking the other boot for size. The guard replaced my lost bow. It was late in the night when I finally managed to corner Alfred and get his version of the story.

"A giant crushed me under a tree, and I thought for sure I'd be dead, Valac." His tone was grave, but his eyes sparkled, not as much as one with a secret, as one who was in love. "She appeared from out of the snow like an angel." He blinked, glanced at my appearance. I nodded him on. "I was rescued by an elf. Talia Silverstreak. She drug me out from under the tree and healed me with the ancient magic of her people, then she lured the other giant away." He smiled wistfully. "She wore an insignia from House Taervelaine. That's in Bryn Shandor. Maybe they had sent someone to look?"
I doubted it. "It's possible."

Alfred sighed wistfully, then looked down sadly at his cup of lukewarm tea. "You know, Valac. I don't think this stuff is for me. I think I'll try to go back home, maybe just do more neighborly things. Y'know?"

I smiled. "It's not for everyone."

He sighed wistfully. "You still headed for Bryn Shandor?"

"Yes, and the villagers could use an escort back anyway."

He hesitated. "Do you mind keeping an eye out for Talia? And, maybe, ask her to write to me? Oh, I'll write a note, and you can just give that to her, all right?" He flushed.

I nodded with all due sternness. "Of course."

Alfred seemed relieved and scurried off.

I had intended to just stay with the refugees for the night, but a nobleman by the name of Fynran insisted he put me up for the night. It was unbelievably awkward, but I seemed incapable of refusing in a polite way the man would actually accept, so I was led to the manor house, where they took my clothes and armor to launder them.

The entire experience was extremely weird and alien. The large copper bathtub seemed an absurd luxury. The bed was too soft and the noises of the city would have normally kept me awake, were I not already so tired. If I were not too exhausted to get up again, I would have slept on the rug rather than the bed, but I was so exhausted, I fell right to sleep.

It was a strange sensation, waking up in a bed. I never had. I slept longer than would be usual for me and I was slow to get ready. My clothes were laundered and brought back. A servant tried to help me dress, but I kicked them out with all the embarrassment of a peasant who had never experienced something so personally invasive.

Breakfast was an affair of foods that looked an elaborate waste. A servant explained, "The master is already out, but was insistent this be kept hot for you."

I was not at all fond of the servant clearing his throat noisily any time I did something that was wrong or improper, despite that there was no one there. I disliked even more that the servant had to be the one to fill the plate.

"I actually only eat—I mean to say, tieflings are carnivorous. That's a lot of bread…" I gave up and resolved to only pick at the items I knew I shouldn't eat, probably with the wrong utensil, by the servant's glare.

By the time the ordeal that was breakfast was done, I was eager to leave. In truth, I would have had few compunctions about walking around barefoot, but the master of the house had provided me with a pair of servant's shoes, and an address to the bootmaker.

I doubted it could possibly be ready yet, but I was only too eager to be rid of this house. Alfred had the message prepared by then, and seemed nervous even just giving it to me, who had to assure him that it was safe with me.

The refugees were being consoled or sheltered in the shantytown now. I spent some time with them and promised to go back with them the next day, if they were ready to make the journey by then.

I was glad to see the rescued children. They all wanted to hear my stories, hear me retell their own rescue. I said it many times, as I had before, and others in the shantytown strained to hear. I spent much of the day there, before I had to leave to visit the bootmaker.

The bootmaker was, indeed, nearly done. "The secret are the pixies. They just want food and leftover leather scraps, things like that, and they help clean the shop and do some of the work. Useful little tykes." She gestured to a mouse hole blessedly free of droppings.

I did a fitting for them, and she said to pick them up come morning.

Having no desire to stay at the manor again, I went to the inn by the gate. This time, I was up early to get the boots and drop off the servant's shoes at the manor.

The boots were a little finer than I might have wanted. They were just going to get dirty anyway, but the fit was good, I had to admit, and they were warm, lined in rabbit fur to keep out the cold and treated to endure the wet of the snow and mud.

I didn't see myself leaving Ten Towns anytime soon. Maybe establishing a reputation would be a good thing.

Maybe my master was dead and it wouldn't matter how far tales of what I had done spread.