The bandits followed the tracks through the trees.
Branches brushed their arms. Dry leaves cracked under their boots. Their voices were loud in the quiet forest.
"I am going to break their legs," Garron said. "Both of them. Make them carry my food back to the fort on their knees."
Jor laughed.
"I just want to see their faces," he said. "We beat them, tie them upside down for a night, then see if they still want to rob bandits."
"Better to sell them," Mal said. "Anyone who can sneak into our fort and leave with full packs is worth good coin. Smart slaves get a higher price."
"Kill first, think later," Tef muttered.
Peren scratched his chin.
"Could just make them do all the dirty work," he said. "Chores for a month."
"Chores do not bring back my snacks," Garron growled.
Kesh said nothing. He walked at the front, eyes on the ground and the brush ahead. The tracks were clear now. A bent stem. A scuffed root. Two sets of prints, light but steady.
Then he stopped and lifted his hand.
The others almost walked into his back.
"Quiet," Kesh said. "They are close."
He pushed a clump of leaves aside. The others crowded behind him to look.
Through the brush they saw a small clearing. A fallen log lay along one side. A narrow game trail cut through the other. Rae and Cynthia stood near the middle, packs on, iron still around their necks.
"Just a man and a woman," Jor whispered. "No guards. No friends."
"Good," Garron said. His lips peeled back in a grin. "We grab them, beat them, take our things back. If they are still breathing, we can talk about selling them."
His hand rested on his sword.
"Spread out," he said. "We hit them together."
They began to circle the clearing.
It should have been simple.
Rae was watching a line of ants march along the fallen log when he heard it. A faint shift in the leaves. The sound of breath that did not belong to him or Cynthia.
He frowned and turned his head.
"Somethings there," he said quietly.
Cynthia was already looking at the trees. The corners of her mouth curled up.
"I know," she said. "Six of them."
Rae's stomach tightened.
"Looks like they not happy we take food," he said.
"No," Cynthia said. "But thankfully they brought us more supplies."
He stared at her.
"You really enjoy this," he said.
"Why not," she said. "They came to us. Saves us a walk."
She did not look worried. If anything, she seemed amused. The light in her eyes was bright and sharp.
"Stay behind me," she said. "And try not to die."
Rae snorted.
"Good plan," he said. "I like not dying."
He stepped back so the log was behind him and Cynthia stood a little in front.
Leaves rustled.
Garron pushed through the brush with his sword half drawn.
"Well, well," he said. "Look who came shopping in our house."
The others spread out. Jor to the left. Mal and Tef to the right. Peren hanging back. Kesh at the edge with his bow.
Rae counted them. Six. Too many for him to even think about fighting.
Cynthia looked them over like she was judging the quality of vegetables at a stall.
"You must be the owners," she said.
"Of the fort you robbed," Garron said. "Yes. That would be us."
He rolled his neck.
"Here is how this goes," he said. "We beat you until I feel better. Then we see if you are worth selling."
Cynthia sighed.
"Everyone always wants to start with beating," she said. "No one ever starts with talking."
She smiled. It did not reach her eyes.
"Fine," she said. "Come see if you can take what you think you already own."
Garron's grin widened.
"Boys," he said. "Take them."
They rushed.
Jor reached her first. He swung his sword hard, eager and wide.
Cynthia stepped in instead of back.
Her hand caught his wrist. Her shoulder slammed into his chest. She turned her hips and used his own weight to throw him. He crashed to the ground and the air blasted out of his lungs in a rough grunt.
Before his sword even hit the dirt, Mal was already lunging in with a knife.
Steel flashed.
Metal rang on metal. Cynthia's knife knocked his aside, then her elbow came down on his forearm. His fingers opened from pain. She took the knife out of the air as it fell and laid the edge gently against his throat.
Tef charged from behind, club raised.
Rae opened his mouth to shout.
Cynthia's foot snapped back without looking. Her heel smashed into Tef's knee. His leg folded. As he stumbled forward, she drew the knife across his cheek in a shallow line.
A faint shimmer of heat ran along the blade. The cut burned more than it should. Tef yelped and clutched his face.
"Next time I put this through your eye," she said.
The smell of singed hair touched the air.
Garron roared and rushed.
He swung his heavy sword in a flat arc aimed to knock her head from her shoulders.
She bent at the waist. The blade cut the air where her neck had been a heartbeat before. As he tried to pull back for another swing, she stepped into his space.
Her fist drove into his ribs.
Once. Twice. A third time. Each blow landed deep.
Garron's face went red. His legs shook. Cynthia's knee rose into his stomach and he dropped to one knee, gagging.
On the edge of the clearing, Kesh finally loosed his arrow.
He aimed for Cynthia's leg. Wound, not kill.
The arrow flew, straight and fast.
Rae moved before he could think about it. His hand slapped at the shaft. The impact numbed his fingers, but it was enough. The arrow veered off and buried itself in the dirt near Cynthia's foot.
His palm burned.
She glanced down, then back at him for a moment.
"Good," she said. "Keep doing that."
Peren had been creeping along the side. Now he stopped completely.
"This is not worth it," he said.
Cynthia straightened.
Mal was on his knees, holding his wrist. Jor lay on his back, sucking air. Tef clutched his burning cheek. Garron stayed on one knee, both arms wrapped around his ribs. Peren looked ready to bolt.
Kesh stood with a second arrow half drawn.
Cynthia lifted her free hand.
Heat flickered around her fingers. It rolled out from her like a wave, slow and heavy. The air in the clearing thickened. The leaves at her feet rustled as if a storm wind had pushed them, even though nothing else moved.
The bandits felt it.
Their skin prickled. Their lungs worked harder to pull in each breath. For a heartbeat it was like standing too close to a forge door when it opened, or kneeling in front of some temple statue that was not as dead as it looked.
"You pull that string," she said, voice calm and flat, "and I will not hold back."
Kesh held her gaze for a long breath. Sweat slid down the side of his face. Then he slowly let the bowstring relax and lowered the bow.
"Smart," she said.
Rae let his shoulders drop. His heart was still racing.
A short time later, all six bandits were on their knees in a line.
"We are very sorry," Peren blurted. "We did not mean any of this. We were only following the boss. Please forgive us for this very stupid mistake."
Garron tried to straighten, then winced as pain caught his ribs.
"Yes," he said quickly. "We apologise. For chasing you. For trying to stab you. For wanting to sell you. For everything."
Jor nodded so fast it looked painful.
"We did not realise," he said, words tripping over themselves. "Someone of your level… your blood… was in front of us. We are blind men who could not see a tiger standing in the road."
Mal bobbed his head.
"If we had known a true lady, a high bloodline, was here," he said, "we would never have drawn steel. We were fools."
Tef lifted his hand like a child.
"We can carry things for you too," he said. "Very loyal. Very fast."
Cynthia watched them, amused. A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, the kind that said she was enjoying this far more than she should.
"You all change sides very quickly," she said. "You chased us through half a forest."
"You hit very hard," Peren said. "We are flexible men."
Cynthia let them sweat for a moment.
"Why were you chasing us," she asked. "Do you attack everyone who walks near your fort?"
Garron cleared his throat.
"We are not simple bandits," he said slowly. "We are… men of balance."
Cynthia raised one eyebrow.
"Men of balance?," she repeated.
"We take from rich caravans," Garron said. "Lighten their loads. Share good fortune."
Mal nodded quickly.
"We take from the rich and give to the poor," he said.
Peren frowned.
"When have we given to the poor," he asked before his mind caught up.
Everyone stared at him.
Peren swallowed.
"I mean," he said, "other than us. We are very poor."
Garron shut his eyes for a moment.
Cynthia actually laughed, a short bright sound.
"So," she said. "You want to be heroes, but mostly you are hungry."
She walked slowly in front of them, hands behind her back, like an elder inspecting a group of students.
"You have a fort," she said. "You have weapons. You have people. But you are lazy. You leave food in piles. You do not post a guard. You rush a fight like drunk goats. You lie badly. You think small."
She stopped in front of Garron.
"And you call that leading," she said.
Garron opened his mouth, then closed it again. Heat rose in his cheeks.
Cynthia smiled, and this time there was something sharp in it.
"Good news," she said. "You are stupid, but not hopeless. You have the right tools. You just need someone better holding the reins."
"And that would be you?," Jor said weakly.
"Yes," Cynthia said at once. "Me."
She spread her arms as if presenting herself on a stage.
"I will be the big boss," she said. "You will listen to me. You will train when I say train. You will raid when I say raid. You will hit caravans that can afford it and crush slavers who think chains are cheap."
She jerked her chin toward the trees.
"You free slaves," she said. "You recruit some. You pay the rest with the stolen coin and send them away. You stop pretending to be Robin Hood and actually become something worth talking about in taverns."
She pointed at Rae.
"And this is the little brother boss," she said. "He tells you where walls fall down, where traps should go, which metal is worth keeping."
Rae blinked.
"Do I get to say no," he asked.
"No," she said cheerfully. "You already started fixing things. I am just giving you a title."
He sighed.
"Fine," he said. "Little brother boss it is."
He looked at the six kneeling men.
"Better than being slave," he added.
"That is the spirit," Cynthia said.
Her gaze went back to Garron.
"So," she said. "Old boss. You can refuse. You can stand up, take your sword and try again. If you do that, I will put you on your back and I will not stop at bruises. Or you can bow your head, call me boss and live long enough to enjoy the food we steal."
Garron thought of her fist in his ribs. He thought of the heat that rolled off her hand, the way his skin had prickled when she raised it.
He bowed his head.
"Big boss," he said, voice low. "You are the big boss."
He looked at Rae.
"And little brother boss," he added.
The others followed one by one.
"Big boss," Jor said.
"Big boss. Little brother boss," Peren said in a rush.
Kesh nodded once.
"As long as we start picking better targets," he said. "I do not mind who shouts at me."
Cynthia clapped her hands together, eyes bright.
"Good," she said. "Then what are you doing on your knees. Get up. We have a fort to fix."
As they scrambled to their feet, she watched them for a moment, that small smirk returning.
"These idiots are ours now," she murmured to Rae, just loud enough for him to hear. "Not a bad start."