Zaltys said, and loosed an arrow.The shaft of the arrow stuck in the soft jungle ground a foot away from the boar. The feathered fletching of the arrow, taken from a colorful jungle bird, stuck up jauntily.The spirit boar groaned in a weary, put-upon way, and stepped closer to the base of the tree where Zaltys was perched. The boar jerked its head back, toward the direction of camp, its intent clear: follow me.“What does mother want now?” Zaltys nocked another arrow. It was surprisingly difficult to shoot straight down with any accuracy, but she’d been practicing, and the next shot speared a wriggling blue-and-red serpent as it slithered past, pinning its head to the earth.The pig snorted, scratched at the earth—leaving long furrows in the dirt, because the spirit companion was only insubstantial when its mistress Alaia wanted it to be—and gesturing again with its head.“This is supposed to be my free time,” Zaltys grumbled. She unstrung her bow and clambered down from the branches of the vine-encrusted tree, dropping to the ground and bending to retrieve her arrows.
