Raveler: The Dark God Book 3 by John D. Brown

fetter.”
    “But the Devourer said I was not a thrall. She said thralls were only good to be used and then devoured.”
    “And you believed that creature? Why create a blend if you cannot control it? Do not deceive yourself. You’re a horse, all bridled and saddled up, waiting for a rider. Somewhere, something wants to take hold of the reins to your soul. And the best thing to do is avoid them.”
    Talen and River finished filling their waterskins. When he hung his over his shoulder, a bird’s shadow passed over the rock. Talen looked up, expecting to see the crows, but saw a vulture high up instead.
    “We’re getting close now to some woodikin orchards,” Harnock said. “Don’t take anything. Don’t say or do anything unless I tell you. Do you understand?”
    Talen and River nodded.
    “This tribe owes me. I’ll get you through their lands, and then you’re on your own.”
    “Why don’t you come back with us, back to the settlements?” River asked.
    Harnock looked at her. “Why don’t you stay with me instead?”
    “This is the Grove’s moment,” River replied.
    “No man will make you happier,” Harnock said.
    “War is not the time to wed.”
    Harnock shook his head. “Come on, then. Time to meet some grub-eating friends.”
    They set off at a pace that was fast, but Talen’s Fire was responding better now, and he was able to keep up.
    Talen had never seen a woodikin. Decades ago, woodikin and humans had spilled much of each other’s blood when the first settlers came to the New Lands. It was said that when you killed one woodikin, you obligated whole tribes and families to come after you. But they never really fought in open formal battle. Instead, the woodikin loved to ambush. They’d surprise a company of men, attacking from tree tops, sending in swarms of hornets and wasps. They’d sneak in at night with their poison darts and stone knives and murder you as you slept. But they’d mostly destroyed farms and crops, killed cattle, absconded with chickens, and sometimes children. There was a two-year stretch in that long war when the early settlers, having been starved nearly to death, had almost lost.
    But with the coming of a Divine, the woodikin were beaten back, and the hostilities ceased. A line had been drawn and marked with the giant border obelisks. Woodikin and humans were to have no contact unless approved by the Divine. Only a few families were given charters to trade, and most of these were temporary. Furthermore, the families were allowed to trade only with the Orange Slayer woodikin, the most powerful tribe.
    Talen and River followed Harnock for perhaps another mile or three, but Talen couldn’t tell for sure because the Wilds were nothing more than an endless puzzle of hills, ravines, and hollows. Distance was hard to gauge. As they ran, his anticipation grew. He was about to be one of the few humans to ever see the woodikin in their tree villages.
    They crossed yet another creek, walked partway up a gentle wooded slope, and then Harnock stopped. “We’re here,” he said.
    Talen looked around. This didn’t look like any orchard. “I thought the woodikin ate bugs.”
    “They eat a lot of things,” said Harnock, “but they love tango nuts. They farm them just as we farm carrots or apples.”
    Talen had been expecting neat rows, but this didn’t look any different than the rest of the woods. Then he saw a regularity of one type of tree growing among all the others.
    Harnock pointed. “The woodikin have paths up there. You see the other trees between the tango nuts. They use the branches as walkways.”
    Now that he’d pointed it out, Talen did see them. The closer Talen looked, the more signs he saw of cultivation. He even saw ropes and a platform up in one of the bridge trees. A number of wooden collars ringed some of the trees’ trunks. Talen asked what they were for, and was told they were there to keep other animals from climbing up and getting the fruit.
    Talen