The Adversary

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Frost crusted the leaf curled a handspan from Farideh’s face. But it shouldn’t have.

She shut her eyes, a thousand half-formed thoughts buzzing in her skull. But only one took hold: it had been hot enough the day before that there was no way frost-

The hyah, hyah, hyah of a crow scattered her thoughts. She winced and turned her face to the ground. Hot the day before. . or maybe it was the same day, or maybe it was a lifetime ago. She couldn’t be sure of anything but the cold air, the hard ground, and the bare forest around her, vanishing into thick patches of fog.

Farideh pushed herself up. She brushed away bits of leaf and dirt, and hissed as the motion sent a tremor through her arm. Every muscle felt stiff and overdrawn. And her head-the tiefling blinked heavily as the throb behind her eyes surged to a state that couldn’t be ignored. She pressed one hand to her eye, cupping the curve of her horn ridge as she did, trying to remember what had happened. Maybe she’d fallen ill. Maybe she’d drunk too much whiskey. Maybe Havilar. .

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