Pip Osk slipped out of the clinic before her mother could notice she was gone.
The basket swung on her arm, half-filled with the easy herbs she'd already gathered near the village edge — feverroot and silverleaf, the boring ones that grew everywhere. What her mother really needed was bloodwort, the deep-red stalks that only grew closer to the treeline where the borderlands got wild. Petra had said it was too dangerous to go alone, but Pip was sixteen now. Practically an adult. And Mister Garret had taught her how to throw rocks and look mean. That had to count for something.
"I'll be quick," she whispered to herself, clutching her wooden sword tighter. "In and out. Mama won't even worry."
The afternoon light was still bright, the two suns hanging high enough that the shadows weren't too long yet. Cragmore's fields gave way to scrubby grass, then thicker brush as she moved toward the forest edge. Birds called overhead — normal ones, not the weird shrieky ones that meant trouble. Everything felt fine.
She hummed one of the old hero songs under her breath while she walked, imagining herself as the scout in a real party. Sharp eyes, quick feet, saving the day with clever tricks instead of brute strength. Mister Garret would probably grunt and say it was stupid, but he'd still listen. He always did, even when he pretended not to.
A patch of bloodwort finally appeared near a cluster of rocks. The red stems stood out bright against the green. Pip grinned and crouched down, cutting them carefully with her small knife the way her mother had shown her.
"See? Easy," she told the basket. "No monsters, no problems. I'll be back before—"
A low growl cut her off.
Pip froze.
Three shapes slunk out from behind the rocks — lean, mangy creatures with too many teeth and patchy gray fur. Not full wolves. Not quite goblins either. Borderland scavengers, the kind that got bolder when monsters pushed closer to the village. Their eyes were hungry.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"Okay," she whispered, slowly standing up. "Okay, okay. Mister Garret said most things run if you make noise and look like trouble."
She raised her wooden sword with both hands, trying to copy the steady stance she'd seen guards use. Her voice came out higher than she wanted. "Hey! Go away! I'm not scared of you!"
The biggest one snarled and took a step forward. The other two spread out, flanking her.
Pip's mouth went dry. This wasn't like practicing on stumps. These things had real claws and real hunger. She backed up slowly, basket bumping against her leg.
"Bad choice," she said, voice shaking only a little. "My mom's the healer. She'll… she'll make potions from your bones or something!"
One of the smaller ones lunged.
Pip swung wildly. The wooden sword cracked against its shoulder with a solid thunk. The creature yelped and skittered back, but the big one charged from the side. She twisted, slashing at its face. It snapped at her arm, teeth grazing her sleeve and tearing fabric.
Pain flared hot along her forearm. Not deep, but enough to make her gasp.
"Ow— stupid dog thing!"
She threw a rock — one of the good ones she'd picked up earlier just in case. It hit the big scavenger square in the snout. It recoiled, shaking its head, giving her just enough time to turn and run.
Her legs pumped hard. Branches whipped at her face. The basket bounced, spilling half the bloodwort behind her. She could hear them crashing through the underbrush after her — snarling, snapping.
"Help!" she yelled, voice cracking. "Somebody— Mister Garret! Anybody!"
The village felt too far away. Her lungs burned. A root caught her foot and she stumbled, hitting the ground hard. The wooden sword flew from her grip. She rolled onto her back just as the biggest scavenger leaped.
She screamed and kicked out desperately. Her boot connected with its chest, but it was heavier than it looked. Claws raked across her leg, tearing through cloth and skin. Hot blood welled up.
This was it. She was going to die because she wanted to prove she could be useful. Mama would be so angry. Mister Garret would probably just sigh and say "told you so" while drinking—
A new sound cut through the chaos: heavy footsteps and a familiar rough voice swearing loudly.
"Godsdamnit, kid!"
Garret burst through the brush like an angry bull, hoe still in one hand like a makeshift spear. His scarred face looked even meaner in the dappled light, eyes narrowed in pure annoyance.
The big scavenger turned toward the new threat. Garret didn't hesitate. He swung the hoe in a wide, powerful arc — not graceful, but brutally effective. The flat of the tool cracked against the creature's skull with a wet thud. It dropped like a sack of grain.
The other two hesitated. Garret stepped forward, planting himself between them and Pip.
"Get lost," he growled, voice low and tired and somehow scarier than any shout. "I've had a long day. Don't make me chase you."
One of the smaller ones lunged anyway. Garret sidestepped with surprising quickness for a man who claimed to hate effort, and brought the hoe down again — this time point-first. It punched through the scavenger's shoulder. The creature howled and fled, limping badly. Its companion took one look and bolted after it into the trees.
Silence fell, broken only by Pip's ragged breathing and the distant caw of a bird.
Garret stood there for a second, breathing hard, then tossed the bloody hoe aside. He crouched next to Pip, his rough face surprisingly gentle as he looked at her injuries.
"Idiot girl," he muttered, but there was no real heat in it. "What part of 'stay near the village' did you miss?"
Pip tried to sit up, wincing as pain shot through her leg and arm. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. "I… I was getting bloodwort for Mama. She needed it. I thought I could handle it. Like you do."
Garret ripped a strip from the bottom of his tunic and started binding her arm. His hands were calloused and steady. "I don't 'handle' it by running off alone like a damn fool. I throw rocks and yell until things leave me alone. There's a difference."
He glanced at the deeper gash on her leg and frowned. "This one's gonna need stitches. Your ma's gonna kill me for letting you get this far."
"You didn't let me," Pip said weakly. "I snuck out."
"Yeah, well. Still my problem now." He helped her up, letting her lean heavily on him. She was smaller than she felt when she was bouncing around full of energy. "Come on. Lean on me. And don't you dare cry until we're back at the clinic. Makes the walk longer."
Pip bit her lip and nodded. As they started the slow hobble back toward Cragmore, she looked up at his scarred, unimpressed face.
"Mister Garret?"
"What."
"…Thank you. For coming."
He grunted, adjusting his grip so she didn't put too much weight on the bad leg. "Next time you want herbs, you ask me or your ma first. Or at least bring someone bigger than a stick with you."
Pip managed a small, watery smile. "Does that mean you'll come with me next time?"
Garret sighed, long and suffering. "We'll see."
They limped on in silence for a while. The two suns were starting to dip lower, painting the borderlands in orange and gold. In the distance, Cragmore's rooftops came into view.
Pip clutched her mostly-empty basket tighter.
She hadn't been a hero today. She'd been scared and hurt and stupid.
But Mister Garret had come anyway. Grumbling the whole way, but he'd come.
Maybe that counted for something too.
End of Chapter 8