“How do I say the thing that is wooden but has leaves?” I ask my patient guard, making sure I have a quick escape route in case he decides today is the day.

  “Leave me alone,” he grunts, and this time he actually turns to face me directly.

  That is not a good sign, but I really want the word.

  “Please,” I say. It’s the only word I can fluently say like a native, mostly because it’s the most common word I’ve used on this poor soul.

  He stares at me for a long second like he’s debating whether language is worth the effort, then finally sighs.

  “It’s stick leaf,” he says. Then he nods to himself, like he’s reassuring himself that yes, that is indeed the word.

  “Stick leaf,” I repeat. So that’s tree. Okay. Good. Useful.

  “What about many stick leafs?” I ask.

  This time he doesn’t even complain. He just answers, flat and tired. “Many stick leafs.”

  I blink.

  That simple? A forest is literally just many trees? I mean… fair. Efficient language. Minimal effort. Very on brand for people who survive by stabbing things.

  I’m about to open my mouth again, because obviously I am, but he glares at me so hard my survival instincts finally wake up. I nod like I’ve learned my lesson and quickly slip inside the tent before he remembers where his spear is.

  I walk over to my sleeping area and immediately start complaining, because some habits transcend worlds.

  “I can’t believe he treats me like that after how polite I am to him,” I mutter. “Can you believe it? At least he didn’t try to skewer me like last time. What do you think?”

  I look down at my rock.

  Mr. Rock.

  He has nothing on him. I don’t have ink, charcoal, or anything to draw with, so he’s just a plain rock. But he’s my companion, and he’s been loyal since day one.

  “At least I squeezed one more word out of him before he shut me down,” I tell Mr. Rock, like he’s going to clap for me.

  The tent flap rustles.

  I scramble and whip my head toward the entrance. It should be too early for lunch.

  Liang slips into my tent like she owns the place. She probably could, but it still bothers me that she never bothers to announce herself. Like, just once, give me a warning so I don’t look guilty for talking to rocks.

  And yeah, you heard that right. My very own tent. They didn’t even charge me a cent.

  Her guard follows her in and sits off to the side like usual. Me within striking distance, her outside of mine. They still don’t quite trust me. Which is fine. I’d be more worried if they did trust me after only a couple weeks in this nice but chilly tribe.

  I flash a wide smile. “Good morning. What brings you?”

  For a second her eyebrow arches, surprised. I hadn’t learned that from her.

  I learned it from the same poor bastard outside, the one I just pestered. With very little entertainment, I turned it into a hobby: getting him to teach me words Liang hadn’t. I’d push until I could tell he was one question away from stabbing me, then I’d retreat from the entrance like some kind of gnome and go practice.

  Which meant Mr. Rock.

  You heard that right too. I’ve spent literal weeks talking to a rock to practice my speech when Liang isn’t here. Mr. Rock has been a loyal friend since day one.

  Unfortunately, I realize Liang is watching me while my eyes drift toward the rock again, and she gives me a look like she’s trying to decide what kind of problem I am.

  I kick Mr. Rock aside.

  Sorry, Mr. Rock. I’ll pay you back for your wonderful help through my solitude.

  “So,” I continued in their language, as smoothly as I could manage. “I speak well.”

  “You indeed speak,” she agreed.

  I ignore the slight jab and asked the question that had been chewing on me since day one. “Why am I here?”

  She blinked, confused. “Because we can’t take up space in the healer’s tent.”

  Frustrated, I waved a hand in front of me. “Not that. I mean why am I in the tribe?”

  She looked less confused. A playful smirk appeared. “Because you were brought here?”

  I stared at her deadpan. “And why?”

  “Because Yuren brought you here.”

  Okay. That was information, just not the information I wanted. So I kept staring until even her guard looked annoyed by it.

  Seeing I wasn’t going to bite, she sighed. “It is not for me to say.”

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  I frowned, but I didn’t push further. Not yet.

  She broke the silence after a minute. “Where is your tribe?”

  That one caught me off guard, partly because the word tribe didn’t click instantly in my head.

  “I have no tribe.”

  “Everyone has a tribe,” she shot back.

  I shook my hand. “I am…” I searched for the word and came up with a mess. “I do not stay. I walk place to place.”

  She nodded once. “Wanderer.”

  Or at least I assumed that’s what it meant. I nodded anyway.

  “I wanderer,” I repeated, but that sounded wrong even to me.

  “Where are you from?” she asked. Curiosity started to dance in her eyes.

  “From far away,” I answered dryly.

  “From where,” she pressed.

  Fine. Half-truth time.

  “A place with no stars.”

  Confusion crossed her face. “You mean cloudy all the time?”

  I shook my head. “No. There is no stars. No sky at night.”

  Her expression tightened. “You lie.”

  “I do not.”

  She stayed perturbed, but underneath it I caught something else, a deeper curiosity that she was trying not to show. Since she clearly didn’t believe me, I decided to enjoy myself.

  “Where I come from,” I said, “we have weapons that can kill instantly by making a loud sound.”

  “You continue to lie,” she said flatly.

  “I do not lie.”

  And then I kept going, telling her things that got more ridiculous with every sentence. With my limited vocabulary I did an awful job describing any of it, but it worked. Her disbelief was entertaining, and her follow-up questions were even better because they were the kind of questions you ask when you’re annoyed but also want to know.

  Eventually she stood up, frustrated, and headed for the exit. Before she left she paused and turned back.

  “Now that you can speak, I need to tell the chief. Expect visitors.”

  Then she added, like it was a favor and not an insult, “Don’t glare. It’s rude.”

  She left, and I was alone with my own thoughts.

  Then I remembered Mr. Rock.

  I rushed to the side, found him, and carefully placed him next to my bed.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Rock,” I whispered. “But I can’t have people thinking I have a screw loose. Especially not important people. And if I’m getting guests, I need to put you somewhere inconspicuous.”

  I moved the rock near the exit, not close enough that someone would kick it on purpose, but close enough that someone might kick it by accident and assume it had always been there.

  Perfect. Blended in. Like a normal rock. In a tent full of… not-normal things.

  About an hour later a young man walked in.

  I recognized him immediately. Same guy who’d been leading the group that kidnapped me.

  Yuren.

  “So you can speak,” he said bluntly.

  I didn’t take offense. I just nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “Now I can finally see if you can hold a spear.”

  That got my attention fast.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “We will…” He said a word I didn’t recognize. Training, fighting, sparring, something like that. My brain grabbed the nearest option and ran with it. “We will train.”

  “Why train?” I asked.

  “In order to have a healthy body one needs to… with the spear,” he said.

  So the new word was probably train. Then what was the earlier word? Fight? Spar? Drill? Meanwhile he puffed out his chest as he said it, like he was quoting someone wise. Definitely imitating somebody. Probably his father. Probably the chief.

  Not like I had much of a choice, so I agreed.

  He didn’t dawdle. He left after telling me someone would fetch me when I was available, which, with my schedule, basically meant any time they felt like it.

  A couple more hours passed. I assumed that was it for the day.

  Then another man walked in.

  Older. Not elderly, but definitely old by the standards of people without modern medical knowledge. The way he carried himself screamed important.

  “Greetings, wanderer,” he said with a warm smile. “I hope your stay has been comfortable.”

  He paused, and I realized he expected an answer.

  “It has been good,” I replied. “The lack of leaving tent and walking in stick leaf is unfortunate.”

  He paused as he processed what I’d just said. I turned smug.

  I truly was a genius at learning languages.

  “Stick leaf?” he asked.

  I paused. That was one of the words the guard had taught me for forest. Maybe I pronounced it wrong. I tried to clarify. “Yes. Stick leafs. Long wood with leaf on them. Many of them.”

  He nodded slowly, almost patiently. “I see. I am sorry for not giving you access to… stick leafs. But you are an…” He said another word I didn’t understand. “So we cannot take chances until the priest gives us the clear.”

  I asked him to clarify.

  “Oh,” he said, like it was obvious. “It means a person who can bring back luck to those around him, or even nature.”

  So. An omen. Of sorts.

  He studied me with mild curiosity. “Have you not been told? It seems you haven’t. It must have been Yuren who gave the order to silence everyone after Liang confirmed you were truly clueless.”

  That only made me more confused. I understood withholding information for security, or to manage risk, but why keep the fact that I was some kind of curse away from me?

  “Why?” I asked.

  He sighed, and his warm smile softened into something almost pitying. “Only that I find your situation unfortunate. You are trapped with nowhere to go. Believe it or not, I want to free you. But the chief wouldn’t permit it.”

  I stared at him, confused.

  He offered a gentle smile, and then dropped the kind of line you don’t drop unless you want to start a fire.

  “I wouldn’t trust the chief,” he said. “Or his son. In this case, Yuren.”

  That was a bombshell.

  Maybe this guy wasn’t that bad. I’d been treated well enough so far. Maybe it was because of him.

  He stood and headed for the exit.

  Then, right before he left, he made a slight detour and kicked a rock out with him.

  My face darkened.

  Mr. Rock.

  A scowl crawled onto my face.

  Never mind.

  This guy smelled like bad news.