In the span of a breath, the cat was a cat no more but a slender woman. She was small in stature, shorter and more petite than Violet, but with all the beauty and alluring curves of even the highest fae. The cat's coloration was preserved: her skin was white as paper, and her dress, fitting and cut short at mid-thigh, was as black ink. Her hair, too, was the same black and spilled in untidy waves over her face, obscuring one eye. The other was as orange and vertically slitted as it had been in her previous form. Her smile, whiter than even her skin, was a smug, feline smirk. She bore no weapons that Violet could see.

Her eyes slid over Violet in a manner that was simultaneously assessing and sensual. "I wish you no harm, O fair huntress," she said. Her voice was like silk.

Violet lowered her wand but didn't put it away. "I am glad to hear it. Are these your lands?"

"All lands are my lands, and none the same, for I go as I please."

Violet fiddled with her wand. Generally, when someone made a claim like that, they were either insane or very, very powerful.

"Then I greet you as a fellow traveler," she said. "To whom do I have the privilege of speaking?"

The woman lifted her head in unmistakable pride and arrogance. "I am Cat."

After a moment's consideration, Violet put her wand away. If Cat were going to attack outright, she would have done so already and probably slain Sirius as he slept.

"I am afraid I have little to offer you in way of hospitality, for we are but humble wanderers in a strange land and have little of our own," Violet said. "If I may, what brought you to our camp?"

"Your companion is dying, huntress. Cruel sorcery labors his heart. I eased his suffering, if only by a little."

Violet's gaze flicked to Sirius. He slept still.

"You could help him?"

"I could," Cat purred.

"Will you?"

"Not for anything less than the heavens themselves. Nine lives I had, and one would surely be a panacea for even the closest of stalking Death. I shan't say how many I still hold, but it is neither one nor nine."

Violet drew a breath. As prices go, that would be a high one. "But you were able to help him without such a price?" she said.

"Indeed. For in sickness, few things are more comforting than the warmth of a cat."

Violet nodded, considering. A thought occurred to her, and she frowned. She should be able to feel even the smallest faerie or sprite from this close, but Cat had no more Sidhe presence than a mortal.

"Are you of Summer?" Violet asked.

"No, huntress. I am Cat."

A shiver ran down Violet's spine. The ring of the name was not that of a pseudonym or title. This being's name, true and unchanging, was Cat and nothing more.

Violet dipped her head. "You have my gratitude. Could you help him more without having to sacrifice anything dear?"

"I could. There is a place not so far from here where Summer's daughters and sons make love and war. In it, there is a fountain that is said to cure any ail. If you desire, I could accompany you and stave off his death for as long as I am able or until wandering fancy takes me and I must be alone again."

A seed of hope flared in Violet's heart, but she suppressed it. This seemed too good to be true. "And what price would you request in exchange for this?"

"I have no fondness for the cruel extortions of the fae," Cat said. "I have no use for your memories or your loves or your firstborn. I need few things and have them all, for I walk alone but for when I choose. I would ask only to travel with you for a time, and I would share of your hunt. In return, I shall stand wary guard o'er your mortal man, lest Death approach in the still of night."

Again, the suggestion that Cat was not fae. But she was clearly no lesser Sidhe and certainly no mortal. Violet had only her intuition, and Winter was being strangely silent, but something about Cat felt ancient in a way that even Maeve did not.

Ah, hell. Maybe she was stepping into a trap, but Cat had shown no sign of deception so far and if she turned her down, Sirius really would die. Besides, Violet was… curious.

She made a graceful bow. "Your offer is generous indeed. I would be honored to travel alongside you for as long as it pleases you."

Cat smiled as if she had been given a bowl of cream and returned to her feline form in a blur of black and white. She stalked over to Sirius and rubbed against him, then curled at his side. Violet started plucking the bird she had hunted and Cat watched all the while.

Contrary to what they might like you to think, the fae were not the first beings to inhabit the Wyld. Arguably, they weren't even native. The very first of them probably appeared a few millions years ago, around the time humans stopped swinging from vines and started tying sharp stones to shafts of wood. Things didn't change immediately, either. Much like humans, it took the fae some innumerable aeons to spread their dominion and crush those who came before. A few, such as the centaurs and other creatures that now counted themselves as Sidhe, still existed as a pale reflection of former glory. Most were not even a memory.

A few, perhaps, had not fallen at all.

Cat was not of Summer or Winter. Nor was she one of the rare fae aligned with neither. She lay sprawled over Sirius, her feline head drooping to rest on his steel belt buckle without so much as a hint of discomfort. If she wasn't fae, was unburnt by iron, then the normal rules of dealing with a strange and likely powerful entity in the Wyld didn't necessarily apply. Violet had to assume she could tell lies as well, though that was less certain. The ability to speak untruths was less a weakness of the fae than a strength of mortals, and Cat was clearly not simply a mortal. Nine times one, at the least.

Sleep did not come easy that night, in the not-silence of the Summer rainforest, distant chirps and whines along with other, stranger sounds forming a constant pattern of background noise. There was every possibility that Cat was simply waiting for her to fall asleep to murder both her and Sirius. Violet didn't think so, though. Call it a hunch, but she got the sense Cat preferred to watch events from afar than directly interfere. Besides, it wasn't as if she could stay awake forever.

In the light of the dying fire, rest finally came.

~#~

Sirius had awoken before her. It was early morning, and the previous night's rain had given way to a dense and cool fog. He looked better than the previous night, though his movements were still cautious and slow. Cat was curled on his lap.

"Morning," Sirius said as Violet stirred. "I made a friend. See?"

Violet raised an eyebrow. Cat clearly hadn't revealed her true nature to him if he was referring to her so flippantly. She was about to correct him when Cat lifted her head and gave a slow wink before drooping back into sleep. It seemed that particular secret would stay between them for now.

"Impressive," Violet said. "A whole world of bizarre and wonderful beings and you manage to find… a cat.

"Sounds about right," Sirius said, then winced. "Bloody hell. It's been sitting on me for hours. I'm not going to have any blood left in my legs."

"Poor thing," Violet said archly. "You're looking moderately less deathly today, at least."

"Slept it off, I suppose." He grunted. "Still don't feel great, though. Did you really carry me?"

"Yes," Violet said, drawing out the word. "Hopefully it won't become a habit." She rolled off of her robes that she had been using a makeshift cushion and got to her feet. "I've been thinking about your situation. The curse has thrice resisted being thrown off: first when you were hit, then the first night we spent in the Wyld, and finally this most recent night. Three means it'll stick until you're dead or cured. We have to do something about it."

Sirius rubbed his chin. Some thin stubble was starting to grow where he was usually clean-shaven. "You sure? If it was going to kill me, wouldn't I have not woken up at all after passing out? Maybe I'll just get better naturally."

Violet shook her head. She couldn't tell him that it was likely only Cat's influence that was keeping him alive while keeping her nature secret. So, she improvised.

"I'm something of an expert on dark magic, you know," she said dryly. "I get the sense this is one of the slow and nasty killers rather than the 'dissolve your flesh in minutes' sort."

"Lovely," Sirius muttered. "How long would it take to get back to the real world?"

"Likely weeks, at least." And you don't have that long went unsaid. "But I have an idea," Violet continued.

"Third time the charm, huh?"

Violet pursed her lips. In fairness, after a dubiously successful heist and an even less successful escape, the phase, "I have an idea" did seem to carry a slightly unfortunate connotation. On the bright side, the third occurrence was when a pattern was usually broken. On the other hand, it was also when it could be confirmed.

She shook her head. "You want to hear it or not?"

"Yeah. I guess I do," Sirius said, grimacing a bit as he prodded his bandage experimentally. "Wouldn't want to give those bastards the satisfaction of doing me in."

Violet told him about the supposed fountain of healing, phrasing it as though she had already known about it rather than having had it suggested by the cat on his lap. It seemed simpler that way.

"Sounds a bit too good to be true, honestly." Sirius said. "I don't want to intrude on your expertise, but from what I remember of the stories, if a faerie offers you a miracle, it's not a miracle."

"Fae," Violet corrected absently.

"What?"

"Fae. They really don't like being called faeries. Faeries are about about six inches tall and mostly harmless. And you're right. I'm sure it won't be as simple as just walking up to it, but we'll figure something out. Play the clueless mortals, maybe, and get close while they're playing with their food." She sighed. "I don't know. I really wasn't expecting to end up in Summer when we went through the arch."

"Hey. It's all right. You're right; we'll figure something out. Besides, I'm feeling better already."

"Good enough to walk? Or will I have to carry you again?"

Sirius snorted. "I'd like to see you try."

~#~

The morning coolness couldn't last of course. Summer's loathsome presence showed itself as the air went from cool and wet to hot and wet. Cat had draped herself over Violet's shoulders like an insufferably warm blanket, and if she hadn't been so hesitant to offend the possibly-indescribably-dangerous being, she'd have made her walk by herself an hour ago. Come to think of it, that was probably why she was there in the first place. It was a deeply entrenched instinct in any feline psyche to find the most irritating possible place to sleep and immediately occupy it.

They made good time through the forest. There were a variety of potential hazards, of course, but they were rather easily avoided by anyone even passingly familiar with the Wyld, and Violet had spent most of her life here. That may have been in Winter, but the threats of a forest weren't so different between the Courts. Don't follow the suspiciously inviting path, don't try to help the woman you'd swear you could hear crying just a few dozen meters deeper into the brush, make sure you don't go too long without checking north—that sort of thing. It was also possible that Cat was playing a role in scaring off most of the would-be predators. Even if Violet couldn't sense her presence, that didn't mean nothing in the forest could, and it seemed more than probable that such a presence would be a daunting one. Violet's own Sidhe footprint, so to speak, was hopefully suppressed after not using any external Winter magic since her first night in Summer. If it wasn't, it would make for a distinctly unpleasant realization when they reached their destination.

Cat had claimed that the court of the healing fountain wasn't far, but for immortal beings, time and distance had a way of becoming relative. At least it was more or less in the same direction as the border to Winter. Even if everything went perfectly from here—which was a ludicrous proposition in itself—they would be away from the mortal world for far too long for her comfort.

"Oh," Sirius said. "That looks inviting."

Violet cursed. Before them, the mystically beautiful rainforest gave way to a vast, stinking, miserable swamp. Steam rose in places, and others vibrated with the rainbow shimmer of oil films. Occasional patches of high ground thrust out the murky water, and fronds of vegetation drooped in the stagnant air.

Cat took one look at the swamp and moved to the higher ground of Sirius's shoulders.

"You never see this sort of thing in Winter," Violet muttered.

~#~

The marsh was hot, sticky, and thoroughly unpleasant. Mosquitoes sang their song of madness, and thorny underwater vines lashed at and tangled them with an almost malicious persistence. The oily waters bubbled here and there with the suggestion of large, unseen creatures swimming through it. They stuck to the high ground when possible, the mossy ground releasing moisture like a sponge as they tread on it, but all too often they had to wade through waist-deep mixtures of stagnant water and mud. Though none of the muck seemed to find purchase on Violet or her clothes, the generally rotten environment was enough to put her in a sour mood, and when night began to fall, she decided she was in no disposition for such sensible suggestions as stopping until daylight.

"You sure?" asked Sirius. "I'm not sure I want to find out what kind of things swim in the dark."

"Do you want to curl up for a kip in the mud? Devoured by insects but with no food for yourself? Bah."

Sirius shrugged and they kept going, even as moonless night fell, plunging the swamp into near perfect black. Cat's eyes shone like paper lanterns in the dark, orange and bright.

"Think we can risk a light?" Sirius asked.

"We may as well. It could attract attention, but I'm more concerned by the things that can already see the dark."

"Right. Lumos."

They trudged on.

Under the veil of night, the marsh took on a more overtly supernatural air. Faint lights hovered in the distance, bobbing every so slightly and seeming to gesture in invitation. The uniformity of the swamp was equally beguiling, and if they weren't able to orient themselves with magic, they would surely become hopelessly lost with no choice but to follow the wisps of light, sure to lead nowhere good. There was reason precious few mortals survived the Wyld long enough to even stumble across a court.

"See that?" Violet said, pointing ahead and to the right. A dim, hazy light shone in the night, yellow and cheerful, unlike the blue of the will-o'-the-wisps. Upon closer inspection, she could see the faint outline of a small cabin, its windows bright against the night.

"Looks warm," Sirius said. "Probably a trap, right?"

Violet took another squelching step and muttered, "Getting the hang of this, aren't you?"

Sirius laughed.

The wind heaved a groaning sigh, and all of a sudden, they were no longer alone.

Cat stirred on Sirius's shoulders and let out a hissing growl, her ears pressed flat. The bog had gone utterly silent but for the keening of the wind. Violet could sense something, something undefinable, but close and getting closer. The wind picked up speed.

Sirius hissed as Cat's claws dug into his neck. "Good kitty," he whispered. Then to Violet, he said, "Feels like someone just walked over my grave."

"Something approaches," she confirmed.

Suddenly, pitch darkness lifted as from the empty night, a full moon appeared as if from behind a cloud. It was red as blood. A hunting horn split the silence, echoing and mournful.

Cat sprung from Sirius's shoulders in a great leap, deftly landing on a solid tuft of grass and springing to the next bit of high ground. She was in a dead sprint toward the cabin. About fifty meters away, she turned, her form barely discernible from the swamp except the tiny points of light that were her eyes.

A voice rang in Violet's mind, as clear as if it had been spoken from a pace away—Cat's.

Come, huntress, lest you become the hunted!

Violet hesitated. Something about this felt a little too convenient. The cabin, apparent shelter, presents itself at the same time as a threat draws near? And Cat is all too eager to flee to it without so much as a thought of holding her ground? It could be a setup.

On the other hand, perhaps Cat simply knew this was not a threat that could be defeated. Violet had certainly never seen the moon turn bloody before, even in the Wyld. But it wasn't in her nature to back down from a fight.

Come, huntress! Cat said, sounding almost as if she was pleading. The Cursed Riders have ne'er reached any who take shelter under roof; but under the scarlet sky, they will show no mercy!

Sirius looked from the blood moon to the cabin, making a similar calculation as Violet. An uncertain threat or uncertain safety—neither option was without risk. But when she made no move to retreat, he simply raised his wand and settled his balance, eyes narrowing.

A second horn blew, and then a third, and then something came out of the moon.

Black shapes, indistinct against the red backdrop, surged forward in a wild, chaotic mass. They were coming closer, and soon Violet could identify them as mostly human figures on horseback. Of course, as horses do not typically gallop through the air, one could safely assume there was more to them than met the eye.

"Oh, Circe," Sirius said, eyes white. "It's the Wild Hunt."

"What?" Violet said. "That's a myth."

Sirius laughed humorlessly. "So are the Fair Folk."

"What kind of argument's that? Just because one old story's real doesn't mean the bloody Easter Bunny is as too. And I've never heard a damn thing to suggest the Wild Hunt's anything but a complete and utter—"

Violet's very reasonable and very pertinent point was cut off as the leader of the group, a massive titan of a man, who looked to be about five meters tall with a wild, unkempt beard and a colossal broadsword in his hands, swooped low overhead, upon an equally colossal steed of darkest night, and took a vicious swipe. All of a sudden, she decided she wasn't too bothered with the taxonomy of the flying riders as survival.

She dove to the side, rolling back to her feet, but though the leader had passed over them for now, hundreds more approached. They were impossibly varied in appearance, from elfin beauties to twisted monsters, some riding steeds of jet black that blew flame from their nostrils and trailed it from their massive hooves, still others soaring under their own power. All appeared utterly mad, entranced by the primal pleasure of the hunt.

"Avada Kedavra!" she thundered, and for a moment, even the baleful red moonlight was washed in green, and horns were lost in howling winds. A dark shape fell from the sky, never to rise again.

Sirius brandished his wand too, and streaks of golden light arced upward, where they exploded in great airbursts, scattering the Hunt into dozens of smaller groups that pinwheeled across the sky. The din was incredible. Hunting cries mixed with the baying of wolves and shrilling of horses, the thunder of horns, and a seemingly sourceless drumbeat without beginning or end.

The madness had a visceral allure, a danger beyond any edged steel or lethal magic. It promised reckless joy and an abandonment of all fetters, violence and sex and feasting without end but Death. It called to her, and surely to Sirius as well, to abandon their names and join the Wild Hunt until the end of all. It was seductive, though perhaps to her less than most, for she was already far closer to that wild freedom than most of humanity. There could be battle-thrill without insanity, pleasure without mindlessness.

Violet had already chosen her banner.

She may not have been able to call down a storm of ice and darkness without revealing herself to all of Summer, but Winter was still with her. Her mind cleared, and the madness that darkened the corners of her consciousness abated. Her thoughts were as swift as a clear stream, and her limbs quicker still. Her wand danced, and thousands of shining metallic fragments rose from the muddy bog to swirl around her in an impossibly complex rhythm.

A dozen mounted cavalry charged her. One was a man with the plumage of a Roman; another had the impossible beauty of fae; another was goblin; another still wore his hacking jacket and waistcoat, though he now pursued more dangerous prey.

One and all, they met her storm of iron, and a sea of blood wet the sky. It was clear that the Wild Hunt, for Violet had no doubt now that, somehow, the myth had come to be, was not fae in nature. If they were native to the Wyld at all, they were older, like Cat. There were one or two of the Fair Folk in the charge, and they died immediately, torn apart and poisoned by iron's curse. The rest were shredded to a lesser or greater degree depending on their armor. The Roman carried on, his armor resisting nearly all of the shards, and he moved to the front with a cry of ecstatic joy. Then a bolt of white-hot lightning ripped through his chest before branching and darting from one survivor to another until the entire charge lay dead in the marsh.

A dozen gone, uncountable more to come. This wasn't a fight. It was suicide. Violet hurled another curse into the sky before beginning to dash toward the cabin, idly noting in flight that she seemed to be doing this a lot lately.

"Go!" she shouted as she passed Sirius, who was already transforming into his Animagus form, pointing to—optimistically—safety. Then she peeled off to one side and flung another bolt of lightning with the hope of drawing the Hunt's attention off him.

It seemed to work. Unfortunately, that meant they were now all looking at her.

A crack sounded, audible over the tumult, and the shallow water to her side splashed upward. In the spinning mass above her, she could make out a man dressed in an elaborate military uniform reloading a flintlock pistol. Then they were upon her, and there was nothing to do but fight and dance and laugh.

She dragged a man off his horse with a noose of flame and ran him through on his own glaive, then wielded it in wide arcs to force the rest to keep their distance. Rolling thunder and the scent of black powder reached her as a kneeling line of undead skeletons, the only sign of their former humanity their tattered red coats, fired a barrage of gunfire.

The volley cut down half a dozen of their own comrades, but Violet felt something heavy hit her in the ribs, followed by a familiar warmth.

She screamed and slashed with her wand. A heat haze ripped outward, and an instant later, the air around the skeletons erupted into flame. Eerie howls of agony echoed into the distance. Flames seemed to spill outward as the oil pooling atop the marsh caught, and a slick the size of a small lake was soon ablaze.

She whirled around, looking for Sirius, but he was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully he got away. All she had to do now was the same.

Every breath was coming with a spike of pain, but she barely noticed. Violet ran through the river of flaming oil after casting a quick Flame-Freezing Charm on herself, and for a moment, her pursuers held off, wary of the sticky fire.

On the other side awaited the leader of the Hunt, now dismounted from his steed. She couldn't be sure what sort of being he was. His size suggested Giant blood, but the cruel intelligence in his eyes told another story. No one could remain the leader of such a chaotically violent horde without being as cunning as they were vicious.

The rest of the Hunt caught up, forming a wide circle around Violet and the leader. An animated scarecrow with a skinned human face stitched onto his cloth head cackled madly.

The leader raised his blade. Blue sparks ran up and down the steel, and Violet could smell ozone.

"Fierce, you are," he growled. "Join us."

Violet rolled her shoulders. The bullet wound hurt like hell, and she wasn't drawing as deep of breaths as normal, but if this fool wanted a duel, she would gladly grant him eternal release. The glaive in her left hand dripped blood, and her wand glowed with green light.

"No."

He laughed, the sound strangely genial. "All right, then. Lads? Kill her."

Violet's eyes barely had time to widen in surprise before he moved with speed utterly at odds with his titanic stature.

Protego!

The shield had barely taken shape when a solid white beam of light originating from the titan's sword smashed into it, sending spiderweb-cracks dancing along its contours. The rest of the Hunt whooped gleefully and set upon her from all sides.

Violet turned and vanished with a crack just a moment before she would have been impaled on an armored knight's lance. She only made it a few dozen meters before the dense ambient magic of the Wyld forced her to reform, but repeated the maneuver twice over before the stress of rapid Apparition made her stagger, dizzy. The pain of her wound had doubled, and her white undershirt was quickly staining red.

"After her, lads!" the leader bellowed, his voice clearly audible even from her distance.

In bursts of liquid shadow, two figures wrapped entirely in black cloth materialized in front of her, sabers in their hands. Violet didn't hesitate.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light bloomed again, and the first figure died, the cloth wrappings falling into the muck without any apparent body beneath them. She flipped the glaive around and hurled the heavy shaft of oak and iron as if it weighed no more than a dart. It tore straight through the other figure, then continued on and disappeared into the night.

Violet stooped to pick up one of the sabers when premonition of the most perilous kind exploded in her mind, and she dove to the side without so much as a thought. Then the world became light and thunder.

What felt like minutes but was probably only seconds later, the dazzling lights in Violet's vision faded somewhat and she was able to roll over onto her back. She was hurt. She wasn't sure how badly, but whatever that had been had hit her hard. There wasn't much pain, which, all things considered, was probably not a good sign.

A palm the size of her head entered her field of vision and closed around her throat. She tried to scream, but barely managed a croak. The leader of the Wild Hunt lifted her into the air and held her before him. Her wand slipped from unresponsive fingers.

The rough grass beneath his feet had been blackened by the heat of his teleportation. It was as if he had ridden a bolt of lightning down to the ground to reach her.

"Got you," he said. He began to squeeze.

Panic suddenly found her. This wasn't right. She didn't fear death, but this just seemed so… incomplete. Dying, all alone, to a foe she hadn't even believed in yesterday. She kicked wildly, but his grip didn't so much as waver. All thoughts of restraint forgotten, she reached for Winter magic, trying to freeze him solid, to rot his flesh, to lay waste to the whole bog if necessary, but the man's gauntlets and armor were wrought of steel, and her magic made it no more than an inch away from her before flaring harmlessly against the polished metal. She landed a solid kick with all the crushing strength she could muster and felt his breastplate cave inward, but the titan's grip didn't falter.

Her vision began to darken, and she abruptly stopped struggling. It used breath she didn't have, and it wouldn't accomplish anything anyway. Instead, she focused on a singular, spiteful purpose. Without a wand, she would have no hope of containing the searing waves of Fiendfyre, but it wouldn't stop her from calling them forth. She would be consumed and her tormentor too, and then the vengeful flames would spread across the sky and pursue the Wild Hunt to the ends of the world. All would burn.

Violet met the titan's eyes and managed to smile.

Just a moment before she brought first the first spark of cursed flame, she saw a flicker of movement in the corner of her hazy vision. Then, a small mountain of teeth and whirling claws collided with the titan's back.

He roared in surprise and pain and dropped Violet five meters straight to the ground. She landed with a thud and gasped, struggling to draw breath into her empty and damaged lungs. Dragging herself through the fetid water away from the titan, she felt her her fingers clasp around something smooth and beautifully cold.

With an explosive gasp, she managed to roll over, the Killing Curse on her lips. It wasn't needed.

Something—a monster—was mauling the Wild Hunt's leader. Claws as long as shortswords flashed, shredding thick padding and shining plate as easily as the flesh beneath. It looked like an enormous tiger, but it was larger and more terrible than any tiger that had lived since humans walked the Earth. The beast had familiar orange eyes.

"Cat?" Violet gasped.

Cat's eyes seemed to glow brighter for a moment as she paused in savaging her prey. Then, she bit down into the back of his neck and tore out his spine.

The descending wave of the Wild Hunt faltered as their leader died with a final roar of fury and anguish. A tense moment followed, and then the Hunt fell upon itself, hacking and thrusting and tearing and screaming in a mindless orgy of violence. They took flight, spiraling into the sky even as they tore at each other, and the crack of gunfire and flashes of magic lit the red sky as the tides of their infighting carried them away.

Violet watched them go as she lay on her back, taking rapid, uneven breaths. The possibility of death had been her constant companion since she was a young child, but it had always been a hazy, indistinct prospect. This time, Death had taken aim, fired, and missed by the breath of the wind.

There was also the small matter that she felt like someone had used her body as high current conductor, taken a break for a spot of strangulation, before returning to the electrocution. Really, she just felt so very, very tired…

~#~

She wasn't quite sure what happened over the next few minutes, but when her senses returned to her, she was no longer sprawled in loose mud, slowly growing damper from her own pooling blood.

She was being half carried by a slender woman—Cat. She stumbled through a door, and Cat closed it behind them. The cabin was cramped, consisting of only a single room, but it was warm and cozy. Too warm and cozy, really. Every element of the room seemed calculated to put visitors at ease and make them feel at home, which, once noticed, had quite the opposite effect.

Roughly cut wood rafters crossed the roof. Cheerful flames burned in the fireplace, a wry reflection of the cursed fire that would have consumed every splinter of the building if events had unfolded slightly differently. An impossibly delicious scent drifted from a heavy pot that hung over the fire, rich and somehow sweet at the same time.

The furniture was simple but elegant all the same, consisting almost entirely of finely worked wood. Violet leaned against the table set in the center of the room for support.

"Sirius?"

"Your man lives yet, huntress," Cat said, and nodded toward the fire. What Violet had initially taken for a carpet was actually Sirius in his Animagus form, completely passed out.

"Will he be all right?"

"For now. But a price he did pay this night. Hours or days, he laid down for you."

Violet bit her lip and Cat sighed.

"The old tiger's teeth are keenest not for her speed or strength but because she knows when it is right to fight. Was satisfying your pride with the blood of a nameless foe worth sacrificing your man's vitality? Young huntress, there will always be another chance to hear the battle-song. If you seek every conflict you can, how long will it be before you stand alone?"

Cat shrugged. "Or perhaps that is your wish. After all, I am Cat, and I walk alone. It is not such a terrible thing."

Violet shook her head. What Cat was saying made some sense, but her thoughts felt clouded, her mind weary. Now wasn't the time for philosophical musings. "I owe you for this," she said, biting the words off at their ends.

Cat's smug satisfaction was a palpable thing. "Thrice over, by my reckoning."

Saving Sirius in the rainforest, directing them to the fountain of healing, and now Violet's life too. It checked out. Even if she could perhaps debate whether the first two should really be considered one, the last was of such magnitude it would easily cover any such deficit. Even a single debt to the fae was nothing to be taken lightly. It granted power, leverage over the debtor, in ways both overt and unseen. Violet was mortal, which meant she would never be truly shackled by it the way the Fair Folk could be. She had seen fae who had become so ensnared in compounding debts that they just… faded away. Every price that went unpaid tore away a little something that made them who they were, until nothing was left but a beautiful shell.

That wouldn't happen to Violet. She was mortal, which meant she had the right to deceive, betray, or cheat anyone she wished. But even then, three debts owed meant something, and ignoring it would be a Bad Thing. It bothered her, in a way that she couldn't quite define. Debts and favors were intrinsic to the fae, and after living with them for most of her life, she was intimately acquainted with the concept and had even taken advantage of it for herself. She just didn't much like being on the end of it.

On the other hand, since Cat didn't seem to be fae at all, maybe it didn't even matter beyond her stung pride.

Turning away, she pulled out her wand, fumbling briefly, and tapped the top of the table. "Reflexis."

A shimmering wave spread over the table, the wood taking on a perfect mirror finish. Violet looked about like she felt. Her garments had escaped any stain from mud or smoke, but not even Winter's grace stopped the white undershirt she had worn since arriving in Summer from becoming mostly red. Forking lines of pink burns crawled over her exposed skin, and presumably elsewhere as well, in the patterns carved by the Wild Hunt's leader's quasi-lightning. They hadn't been inflicted by iron, so they would heal fully in time, but she would have some eye-catching scars for a few weeks.

She struggled with her shirt's lacing, but her fingers felt rough, the nerves numbed by the magic that had torn through them. "Damn it," she hissed.

A warm presence brushed against her back, and she unconsciously leaned into it. Cat's fingers curled around her waist and deftly unlaced the shirt. Her breathing hitched as Cat's fingers brushed her bare skin, and she shivered.

"Little bit up and to the left and it would've been the end of me," Violet remarked as her shirt pooled on the floor. The bullet had struck a few centimeters below her right breast, and dark blood ran from the deceptively small hole, but it was already clearly slowed from what it should have been. If she had been just human, she wouldn't have made it out of the swamp.

"Did it go through?" she asked.

"Cleanly," Cat said. She leaned her head over Violet's shoulder, an impish grin visible in the table's mirror surface. "Wise or not, the hunt suits you. You are beautiful in red."

Cat ran her fingers through Violet's hair, then down her neck and back, following the red burn lines. The light contact burned as if the wounds were being inflicted anew, but it was a euphoric pain, and in their wake was only soothing cold.

Violet turned around and grasped Cat's slender wrist in her hand. She wet her lips, realizing that she was standing very close to Cat indeed. Cat was a little shorter than her, and ineffably gorgeous. Her expression was one of effortless arrogance, a silent challenge curving her lips. The adrenaline of the earlier conflict found itself quite naturally transforming into another sort of excitement. Violet drew in a breath—

And then she realized she was already quite faint from blood loss, and any strenuous activity was likely to end embarrassingly. She withdrew a pace.

"I should probably bandage this."

"Mmm. Wise," Cat said, in a voice so throaty Violet almost reconsidered. "You're learning already."

Violet laughed, but it came out a little too breathy. Some of the feeling was starting to come back into her fingers, and she was able to conjure a suitable cloth without difficulty. Wrapping it around the bullet wound, she said, "Incidentally, who exactly are our gracious hosts this evening? I can't help but notice this cottage seems distinctly… inhabited, but the lord of the manor, so to speak, appears to be out."

"A mystery indeed. It does seem that someone was expecting visitors, does it not? Generous to be sure, though I would think twice before sampling the stew."

Violet grimaced. Put that way, it did seem like a clear trap for unwitting travelers. But she was exhausted, and the idea of curling up by the fire seemed vastly more appealing than returning to the dreary marsh.

"Keep an eye out, will you?"

"Of course, dear huntress. You'll not find a lighter sleeper than me."

AN: SOB, I'm estimating between 350k and 400k words in total for the story, though it's certainly not set in stone.