if it was because she was a pale blonde with her hair tied back, or because she was beginning to annoy me.
As I spoke, I saw that I was only half right. There
had
been someone covering for my little con artist, but it wasnât her dad. Five girls emerged from the woods around the campfire, most no older than the girl facing me. The youngest may have been twelve or thirteen, the oldest could have been sixteen, or a tall fifteen. They all wore similarly ill-designed clothes that, despite alterations, were obviously meant for men of a much bigger stature. Though their clothes seemed to have been modified to the point where their movement wasnât affected.
The girl with the dagger gestured at the tall one, a lanky redhead who was apparently in the midst of a growth spurt, giving her the best-fitting clothes. Red ran up and pulled my dagger from the log next to me. Red gave me a sidelong glance as she did so. She blushed, unnecessarily reminding me I was naked.
Apparently the girl with the dagger was in charge.
I might have tried to stop Red, but one of the other girls, a dark-skinned fourteen-year-old with hair braided tightly to her scalp, had a crossbow pointed in my direction. I questioned whether someone that size could successfully wield a crossbow, but it didnât seem prudent to put that question to a practical test.
Once Red had retreated with my dagger, Fearless Leader asked me, âYou were kidnapped? You worth a ransom?â
âMore like a price on my head.â
The youngest one, whose tight-curled hair was a shade between Red and Fearless Leader, frowned at me. âYou hurt, mister?â
âDonât worry, itâs not my blood.â
Everyone withdrew from me and huddled around Fearless Leader, though the crossbow stayed pointed in my direction. I got more sidelong glances at my nakedness that probably should have embarrassed me, if it wasnât for the fact I still felt disconnected from this body.
As they whispered things to each other, I got a good look at all of them. Six in all, outfitted with outsize garments and weapons. It made sense since there wasnât a booming market in chain mail and swords fitted for fourteen-year-old girls.
But, however large the garments had been, they had all been carefully altered. The alterations were rough, but skillful enough to suggest theyâd been wearing this kind of thing for some time. All of them had some sort of weapon, and either had their hair tied or cut back. One of the girls had her hair cut so short that, if it wasnât for the context, I probably would have taken her for a slightly effeminate boy.
All of them had a lean and weathered look suggesting theyâd been out here a while.
Their leader wasnât the obvious one. Any group of youngsters will invariably hand leadership to the biggest and most physically powerful. Thatâs the way kidsâ minds worked. It took some maturity, and some experience, to hand the reins over to the most qualified to hold them. This group had been through something, multiple somethings, and the blonde with the vanishing stutter had been the one to get them through.
Fearless Leader pointed toward one of the tents, and a pair of girls ran off toward it, going around the side of the campfire opposite me.
âI seen it before, Grace.â I turned my attention back to the main group because someone, Red, had raised her voice. All was not paradise in girltopia.
Fearless Leader, who was apparently named Grace, had sheathed her own dagger and was examining mine, turning it over in her hands. âI know, but they donât move this far north,â she said.
âNot less someone pays them,â Red responded.
âYou think he . . .â Grace pointed the dagger in my direction and everyone turned their heads toward me. I had the sudden intuition that this might not be a good thing.
The two girls returned carrying boots, a cloak, a linen shirt, and a pair