I've talked my way out of speeding tickets. I was less confident talking my way out of this.
He was younger than I expected, maybe thirty, lean and watchful with the same low, aggressive posture I'd come to associate with every Viper I'd encountered so far. His hand rested easily near his hip, not quite drawing a weapon, but close enough that the threat didn't need to be spoken aloud. Behind him, his bike sat parked at an angle that suggested he'd pulled over on a whim, or maybe on instinct, some patrol routine bringing him past this exact stretch of tree line at exactly the wrong moment for me.
"I'm just passing through," I said, keeping my voice level despite the way my pulse had spiked into something close to panic. "Wrong turn. I'll be on my way."
"Wrong turn," he repeated, unimpres
