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I’m one of you.”
    The women snickered. “Those two statements don’t match,” said the shorter one. A dark brown curl flopped over her eye, and she gave an irritated jerk of her head. “We don’t take refugees unless they’re kin to a Kalindon.”
    “My stepgrandfather is Tereus the Swan.”
    “He’s not a real Kalindon,” the short woman said, “he only married one.”
    Sura swallowed. Her next answer could get her welcomed or killed. “My blood grandfather is—was—Razvin the Fox.”
    The women hissed and raised their bows to aim for her heart. “That traitor’s name is poison here,” said the blonde.
    “Wait.” The man held up his hand, and they reluctantly changed the angle of their bows, but kept them taut. “If Razvin’s your grandfather,” he asked Sura, “whose daughter are you?”
    Sura forced the name out of her mouth. “Lycas.”
    Their jaws dropped, and so did the blond woman’s bow.
    “Lycas the Wolverine?” she said with awe. “Lycas the liberator?”
    “He hasn’t liberated much of anything yet,” Sura muttered.
    “Why should we believe you?” said the brunette. “Anyone could claim to be his child.” The haughty look in her blue eyes turned Sura’s mouth sour.
    “I have proof.” She reached for her saddlebag.
    “Hold on, hold on.” The man sauntered over. “Let me get it.” He gave her a wink as he passed. “These two are a little jumpy today,” he whispered.
    “Careful, Etarek,” the unpleasant one said. “She’s probably lying.”
    “She’s not lying, Daria. And you be careful. Stop pointing that thing at us.” He glared at her, then opened the flap on the saddlebag. “What am I looking for?” he asked Sura.
    “A letter from Bolan the Horse. My mother said you would trust his word.” She glanced over her shoulder at the women—at their weapons in particular.
    Etarek pulled out a folded piece of parchment, held shut by a dab of blue wax shaped like a horse’s head. “That’s his seal.” He tucked the letter into an inside vest pocket. “Come with us.”
    “Aren’t you going to read it?”
    “We don’t read.” He took the reins of her horse. Sura stepped to the other side so he could lead from the left. The blond woman moved off the trail out of the way. The other, Daria, merely folded her arms and stood in Sura’s path.
    “Care to share your name?” she said.
    “Sura.” She brushed past Daria, bumping her shoulder.
    “Sura the what?” Daria bounced alongside her. “What Animal are you, or is that against occupation law?”
    “It is against the law, but I have one, anyway.” She didn’t feel inclined to share it on demand—not with this woman, at least.
    “Let me guess.” Daria circled around to examine her from behind. Sura turned to watch her, and promptly tripped over a root. Daria cackled. “Not a Cougar, that’s for sure, unless you can do this.” She ran behind the horse and leaped over him lengthwise, performing a perfect somersault in the air before landing on her feet on the path in front of them. The gelding balked and pinned back his ears.
    “Show-off,” said the other woman, who turned a friendly smile on Sura. “I’m Kara the Wolf. Etarek’s a Deer.” She turned to pat his cheek. “A dear, dear boy.”
    “I’ve never met a Deer,” Sura said. “What’s your magic?”
    Etarek shrugged. “I hear things.”
    “Modest.” Kara gave his shoulder a playful slap. “He hears what isn’t said. Not as words, though, not until his second phase. But he can read people’s feelings from their voices. For detecting lies, he’s the next best thing to an Owl.”
    “But a slightly better dancer.” Daria smirked at him, then turned to walk backward, examining Sura head to foot. “You’re a Badger. Or a Bobcat. No, too clumsy. But definitely an Animal that can be mean. I sense that in you.”
    “Sense what?” Sura said. “A kindred spirit?”
    Kara chortled. “Ouch. Daria, you’ve met your match.”
    Sura