The Seven Worlds

Crookdale

"Three deer, eight crests..." Elerea wrote with a quill on the paper in front of her, audibly counting the spoils we'd just brought to her. I leaned against a post in her small hut, arms crossed, chewing a mintwood twig. This wood, found in the forest, kept my teeth clean and freshened my breath.

Years ago, I discovered the twigs. My peers still thought it was weird, calling me names like "wood-chewer." But every year, when the traders came and people gathered to see the traveling dentist, I was the one smiling—literally. The screams of my neighbours having teeth pulled were a source of morbid amusement for me.

I shifted the twig in my mouth, crunching it with my molars.

"Six Forestwhisperers," Elerea said, her voice tinged with awe, her quill scratching faster. "Plus four Mosspelts. Well done, ladies."

Fiona did a little hop; Wilma rubbed her hands together.

"And?" Leora asked. She was the boldest among us. "Did we win?"

"Leora, daughter of Roana, you try to pry information every season," Elerea responded, eyes narrowed. "Wait until tonight. Then you'll know."

I suppressed a triumphant grin, yet a chuckle escaped. Leora shot me a furious look. "Mind your business, wood-chewer," she snapped.

"I need a bath," sighed Stasia, "See you ladies tonight."

Agreement hummed through the air as each woman left Elerea's dim, cramped hut. Arms still crossed, I watched Elerea work.

"If I were you, I'd take a bath too," Elerea muttered, not looking up. "You stink.”

I chuckled again. "Ever tell Leora how you were just like her—impatient for the village festivities to see if your team had won?"

Elerea looked up, a playful glint in her eyes.

"I told you that in confidence," she murmured.

I teasingly raised an eyebrow and blew her a kiss across the room. She had recounted that story to me three times—the time she, at my age, had sneaked into the village elder's hut to peek at the scores. Only to get caught and earn Beekdale its first-ever disqualification. She stacked some dark brown papers and refocused on her work.

"Whoever wins," she said, "we have ample food for Oakbrook and Dusktide. Maybe even enough to share with Nightdale."

"It's only just spring," I remarked casually, not uncrossing my arms. "We’ll hunt in the woods every week now. Plenty of young woodland creatures to go after, and then we have summer. Winter's over. Share all you want; I’ll hunt more meat."

She snorted, not in contempt. It sounded like pride—whether for my words or my hunting skills, I couldn't tell. So I assumed both.

"This winter was harsh, especially in Oakbrook," she continued. "Reports say several residents died. I shudder thinking about the young kids living there."

That got me moving. I took the twig from my mouth and stepped toward Elerea.

"Every village first looks out for its youngest," I assured her. I knew she had no other children besides Isaac. Having kids in Avelora was a blessing, a gift not everyone received. It could take years to conceive. This increasing infertility was the original cause of our Nature Festivals—so that seed could spread more evenly and give every woman a chance to conceive.

Even with the festivals, every pregnancy was a cause for celebration. Children in Crookdale were raised communally as if they had fifty-five parents.

The thought made me chuckle.

"Watch that chuckling," the older woman hissed without looking. "You sound like a Forest Llama."

Struggling, I forced myself to giggle lightly—a sound I often heard from my younger sister, Elena. A nauseatingly saccharine cackle.

"Be careful," the older woman continued. "You'll drive Isaac mad if he hears that."

I widened my eyes in mock shock.

"Elerea!" I exclaimed. "Such vulgar words from such an innocent lady."

She looked up; a fierce fire ignited in her eyes.

"Vulgar?" she echoed. "Get out of my hut, Ariana. Go wash up. And make it quick before I really give you a lesson in vulgarity."

Suppressing a grin, I left her to her work. "Good luck with the counting, Elerea," I called over my shoulder as I let the tent flap close behind me.

Brookdale was bustling. In the distance, I saw the Windbirds huddled together. Their leader, Tiana, spotted me first. She raised her hand in a greeting, and I returned the gesture. Tiana wore a frighteningly triumphant grin—a grin that made me instantly question our victory.

Three houses down from Elerea, I paused. The small home where Elena and I lived was neither large nor extravagant. I'd built it myself with help from others, about three years ago. Isaac had been a big help, especially with tying the poles and laying the roof. We could stand upright in the cabin, but if I raised my hands above my head, they'd touch the ceiling—and I wasn't even the tallest woman in Brookdale.

Still, the thatched roof kept us dry. The fine sand on the floor deterred mice and other pests, and the beds we built offered comfort at night. What more could we ask for?

I knocked twice on the door before entering. There was Elena, sitting on one of the two chairs Isaac had crafted for us. She was crocheting with wool, the beginnings of a crib sheet in her lap.

"Back already?" she said, not even looking up.

"I'll chalk it up to pregnancy hormones," I muttered.

It was just a few weeks since she'd broken the news to me. Nobody in the village knew yet, due to one unfortunate fact: she didn't know who the father was. Last season, she'd enjoyed the Nature Festival "a little too much," leaving her somewhat embarrassed.

And rightfully so. While the village would celebrate the arrival of a new Brookdale baby, it fell on me to financially provide for both Elena and her little bundle. I could earn some extra cash by setting traps, all without the company of other Shadowhunters.

Maybe I should sell the shadow-fox fur to Isaac instead of...

"Here." I handed her the folded fur. "For you."

Her eyes widened. "Is that..."

Another key difference between us. She loved luxury, finer things. Any random long-haired pelt would've done for me. But for Elena? Only a Shadow Fox fur would suffice to caress her baby's delicate back.

"Such a beauty," she cooed, snatching the fur from my hands and rubbing it against her cheek. "So soft." Her voice was the epitome of bliss—gentle but with a sharp undertone.

"Thank you, thank you," she murmured, still not looking at me.

"Coming to the party tonight?" I studied her closely.

The colour drained from her face. "No, not feeling well. I'll pass," she mumbled. Her sudden paleness was another piece of the puzzle I tried to arrange mentally each day that passed. She'd only go pale if the baby's father was going to the party.

I was desperate to know who it was. Then I could drag him to our home to make an honest woman of her, to slip a ring on her slender finger and care for her and the unborn child.

Because now, they were both my responsibility. Even with the village wanting to help, I would never be able to escape completely.

"Is it because Ryder will be there tonight?" I named her ex deliberately but saw her lips curl into a mocking smile.

So not Ryder.

"Stop guessing, Ari," she soothed, stroking the fur. "I don't even know myself. How could I betray it to you?"

"I don't believe you," I said, walking over to the table near Elena. I unbuckled my belt and let the heavy knives thud onto the wooden table. Crossing my arms, I faced her. "You're not one for multiple men in one night. Not even during a Nature Festival."

"Last season I was," she snapped back a bit too sharply. "Drop it, Ari. Go wash up, you stink."