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“Hi!” she said, waving before leaning toward Adam and Jack to whisper. “What are they?”

“I don’t know,” Adam said.

“I’ve got nothing,” Jack added.

Lean and pale, they blended with the snow. Adam could not tell if they were young or just short.

White antlers sprouted from the sides of their head. With pointed ears and smooth skin, they might have been cousins to the elves, but as they approached Adam spied the red of their eyes and the dried blood marking their lips and the rough furs they wore for clothing.

The nearest, a male if his mostly bare chest was a clue, hissed something at them in a language Adam did not recognize.

“Jack?” he asked.

“I don’t know it. It’s similar to Elvish, but not. I’d need a lot more to work with.”

Another quick hissing. It sounded like a demand. The speaker’s teeth were long and sharp. The leader drew a coarse blade. Toothed, yellowed, and curving, it looked like it had been carved from bone.

Adam raised his hands.

“We mean you no harm.”

A thunk sounded. Daff gasped.

Adam half turned to see an arrow sticking from Jack’s chest.

He ripped it out.

Daff pulled off her gloves.

The speaker shouted something and lifted his blade.

Adam opened his hand and called the sword.

The leader raced forward. Adam gripped the sword and turned to intercept, but he suddenly had his hands full as the leader’s bone blade sliced the air, diving toward him.

He rushed to catch the blade with his own. The leader grunted as they locked. Adam wasn’t bulky or even that skilled, but he at least could match the strength of this creature. At proximity, the smell was terrible, a cloud of piss and musk.

The hunter broke off and came at him again.

The memory was there, and Adam felt it pushing him as blade struck blade. He was angry. He was hurt, and here was a worthy target. The hunter’s booted foot swept up, intending to kick him. Adam shifted and slipped on the snow. The bone blade slid across his jacket, but didn’t penetrate Argent’s woven armor.

Footing regained, Adam returned the favor, sending the hunter back with a hard blow.

“We can stop fighting,” he called, breath heaving. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Daff said from behind him. “They shot Jack.”

“I’m fine,” he called.

With a growl and a desperate glint in his red eyes, the hunter leaped for Adam. He brought his sword down from overhead.

Adam brought his sword up in time. The bone blade clashed against the elven steel. Adam felt the sword sing in triumph as the hunter stood staggered, staring at his broken blade. Adam returned the favor and kicked the guy, sending him sprawling in the mud and muck.

“Stop!” Adam shouted.

“Seriously,” Daff said.

Adam risked a half glance. Two of the other hunters lay at her feet. Their skin was covered in painful-looking pox. They foamed at the mouth.