The Magistrate's Gift
Ritter never had a good feeling in the Dreamwood. He always felt eyes on him. Watching. Planning. It was like he was interrupting a sinister gathering, and "they" were waiting on him to leave. He never had this feeling anywhere else. He grew up surrouned by deep forests, and he loved the opportunities they afforded for boyhood mayhem. But today, he was crossing the heart of the Dreamwood. The outpost required his tracking skills to follow some horse thieves back to their lair. The thieves had been scattered during a fight the night before when all but one horse had been recovered safely. Every nerve in Ritter's body was strung as tight as a harp. Every careful footstep seemed as loud as a tree falling. Any moment, he expected an arrow to slice into his belly. /// He was not wrong. A pair of green eyes watched him from the high branches. She smelled his strange scent: an enticing mixture of bacon and leather and clean soap. Not like the stink of the other man-