CHAPTER 136

Kisa snorted. "Who did you fuck?" she asked.

"It's more like who hasn't he fucked?" The woman winked at him. "The forest has told me stories."

"Is Bigfoot a good kisser?" asked Kisa. "Cause you know Beth is gonna ask."

Though he hadn't kissed Bigfoot himself, he did have Emily's memories of the time she had had sex with him. "I'm not the kind of guy to kiss and tell," he replied.

"Psshh. You never kiss and tell, but everyone in the house has seen your bare ass, usually plowing someone from behind." Kisa looked at the house's board. "Why is this piece so fuzzy?" she asked, pointing at one he didn't recognize. It was in the office.

"He can tell you." The woman moved next to Kisa and put an arm on the catgirl's shoulder. "I like you. If you ever tire of him, you can always come live with me. You're fun."

"It means someone hasn't been discovered yet," he explained, then frowned. The piece, though blurred, was also blackened as if it had been burned. He tried to touch it, but it was so hot that he yanked his hand away. "Why is this one so different?' he asked.

"Because it isn't your piece." The woman scowled as the piece shifted into the living room. "And you are definitely not the one moving it."

Mike felt the world around him go still. Was it Amir? Or had the shadow returned? His list of enemies was frustratingly long.

"Speaking of, you have a similar issue here." She waved her hand and revealed that another gnarled piece sat on the table. He immediately recognized Leeds. "This little shit stain wants to be king of the forest. Besides fucking up the flow of my woods, he is also the reason you cannot get home and fix your problem there. Even if he tries to bargain with you, you cannot let him have this place."

"Because he's an asshole?"

She nodded. "That, too. He thinks he can become a Caretaker, but it's not that simple. He wasn't chosen, and he isn't part of the game. All he can do is disrupt it. Putting him in charge would be like swallowing poison. If you can push him beyond my boundaries, I will see to it that he never crosses again. I've tasted the blood he has spilled already on my land, and I am not impressed."

"Who chooses who becomes part of the game?" Mike felt his heart pounding in his chest. He had so many questions right now, and he didn't know which ones to ask. He also didn't want his head to explode.

"It's different for all of us. You see, I call you Caretaker because that is the role you have taken on. Others like me will call their champions something else, like Curator, Captain, and even Conqueror. Each of us, in the beginning, was bonded to an entity who helped us choose. In your case, it's a simple nymph. As the guardian of the home, she chooses."

"Who is your guardian?"

She frowned. "There used to be a dryad who lived by the cabin, but she was killed some time ago when the cabin was captured by a competitor. It was taken again by a former Caretaker from your home, which is also why my board is part of your game now. I can never again choose my own champion. It's a bit of a failsafe, it keeps people like me from backstabbing you."

"Why would you backstab me?"

She grinned. "All sorts of reasons. Maybe I don't like you. Or maybe I'm mad at my sister. However, my fate is now tied with hers, so if she dies, so do I. That reminds me." She held out her hand and leaves swirled around it, forming into a tiny replica of Mike. He was screaming in agony, an arrow stuck in his back. "You almost died out there."

"I know," he said, suddenly solemn.

"No, I don't think you do. By all rights, you should have died. I actually felt you cross over hundreds of times during that night, like the ticking of a terrible metronome. But every time, you found your way back. It was almost like something kept you here."

He thought of the women of the Dreamscape, struggling to keep the island from being consumed. "I have some ideas," he began.

"Don't share them." She held a finger to her lips. "Even though this is a sacred place, we can never be sure that someone isn't listening in. It may even be someone sifting through your memories years from now, or your familiar's. You've found yourself on a dangerous path, Caretaker, and I suspect the others will take notice of you very soon, if they haven't already."

"The others?" he asked, his voice cracking. He wasn't in the mood to fight with a Conqueror.

"The other champions. But none quite like you." He didn't see her move, yet she was suddenly in front of him. She brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes, then traced his cheekbones with a finger. "My sister was never much of a fighter, and she doesn't attract them. I always thought a fighter would be best, but it turns out that succeeding at the hunt doesn't mean you can properly skin a deer."

"Uh..." He looked at Kisa, who just shrugged. The metaphor eluded him.

"It's your heart. The thing that makes you a good Caretaker." She tapped on his chest. "Your compassion and kindness have brought you some very powerful allies."

"And his dick." Kisa sniggered behind him.

"That, too." The woman smiled. "I always thought a nymph was an odd choice for a guardian. My sister's methods are unique in that regard. The others choose their champions through trials of strength and wits. I, too, used to do the same, but no longer."

"So the others are fighters." He sighed. "Okay. Having my ass kicked is nothing new."

"Your greatest strength is also your weakness. A heart that lends itself so easily to others is easily broken." She reached her hand up, and a nearby tree bowed down until its branches touched her hand. With a sharp yank, she snapped off a long branch about an inch across. She turned it over in her hand and pulled a field knife from a belt on her waist. "Do you know how you make a spear, Caretaker? You first trim away the branches. Once they're all gone, you sharpen the tip. And sometimes, when the situation calls for it, you throw it and hope to hit what you're aiming for."