I frowned, eyeing her, and waited. There had to be more to the story.

Sure enough, after a few seconds of silence, Dee sighed and continued, “Some members of the community, though, felt like the leadership had rejected them by even implying that cohabitation was possible. They said we would never be free until we were able to exist entirely independent of human culture and human resources. They moved to the edge of our protected land and started their current farming projects.”

“Which eventually expanded to include things like ‘happy fun time with cockatrice,’” I said. “Okay, I’m starting to understand the situation. How much do they mingle with the rest of you?”

“More than we’d like, not as much as would probably be good for them,” said Dee. “I think—” She cut herself off mid-sentence. I turned to see Frank trotting back toward us, his hands now full of small purple onions.

“This is enough?” he asked.

“That’s more than enough,” I said, and produced a knife from inside my pocket. “Pass them over.” He handed me the onions. “Shelby, give me your hands.”

“Righto.” She stuck her hands obligingly out toward me, cupping them to make a rough bowl shape.

I started trimming the green tops off the onions before cutting the onions themselves into quarters. The leafy parts I dropped to the ground, while the onions went into Shelby’s hands. “Everyone take a few chunks of onion and rub them all over your skin. I know it’s not the world’s most pleasant perfume, but as much as it bothers you, it’ll be ten times worse for the lindworm.”

“My eyes are already burning,” said Shelby.

“I have more eyes than you do,” countered Dee, and took a piece of onion.

“Regardless, if we’re covered in onion, we won’t smell like food. If we don’t smell like food, the lindworm won’t eat us. Since I’m opposed to being eaten, I’m okay with being a little onion-y.” I finished cutting the last onion, and wiped my knife on my sleeve before tucking it back into my pocket. “Be sure to get the back of your neck, ears, and anything else that isn’t covered by your clothes.”

“You really do know how to party,” said Shelby, dumping half the onions back into my hands before she started scrubbing herself down with the remainder.

“Ain’t no party like a Price party,” I said. Dee and Frank were covering each other in onion, moving with a careful efficiency that spoke to long years together. I glanced over at Shelby as I rubbed onion on my cheeks and neck. She didn’t look like she needed any help. I still wanted to offer it.

This was exactly the wrong place to be wondering about the state of my relationship, which didn’t do anything to make me stop doing it. Shelby and I had both been lying to each other, even if only through omission, and while that wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, it was the level of commitment I’d been both comfortable with and ready for. Now that I knew she wasn’t as much of an outsider in my world as I’d assumed, where did that leave us? She’d said that things were “different” between us now, but was that good or bad?

Sometimes I think things would be a lot easier to deal with if I didn’t think so damn much.

“Done,” announced Shelby, dropping the wrung-out shells of her onions to the ground. “Never seen a lindworm before. What color are they?”

“Greens and browns, mostly. Some of them have blue tails.” I dropped my own onions. “Dee? Frank? How are you two doing?”

“Ready,” said Dee.

“Great. Let’s go hope that whatever’s been attacking people in your woods is a lindworm.”

“And if it isn’t?” asked Frank.

“Well, then we’ve just seasoned ourselves nicely to be something’s dinner.”

The trees were silent as we moved from the open farmland and into their leafy shade. Nice as it was to have a brief respite from the sun, I still tensed. There should have been frickens singing in the trees. Given the number we’d found in a relatively accessible swamp, this stretch of protected, gorgon-occupied forest should have been the epicenter for a fricken population explosion. If they were missing—or worse, if they were silent—then something here was very wrong.

The only warning we had of the attack was a rustle in the bushes to the left. I turned toward it, one hand cheating toward the gun I had tucked into the waistband of my pants, and the lindworm’s tail caught me across the knees, whipping out from the right. I yelped and fell, the shouts of the others following me to the dirt.

The lindworm might have caught me off-guard, but that didn’t mean I was going to stay that way for long. I turned the fall into a roll and bounced back to my feet, pistol drawn and in my hand as I scanned the foliage for the lindworm’s head. “Back-to-back!” I shouted, hoping the others would get the point and move into a defensive position.

Shelby’s shoulders hit mine almost immediately, their warm, reassuring weight accompanied by the strong smell of onions. “I thought you said these things didn’t like onions!” she shouted.

“Lindworms won’t eat onions, and they don’t usually attack what they’re not planning to eat!” I said. “I don’t know what’s going on with this one!” I’d only been able to catch a glimpse of the tail that hit me, but it had looked more mossy green than electric blue; this was either a female or an immature male, and either way, it wasn’t the lindworm Dee and I had seen earlier. “Anyone have a line of sight on it?”

“No, and we’re looking,” said Dee tersely.

“Try to stun instead of killing if you can.” Neither gorgon was wearing any sort of eye covering. If they looked into the lindworm’s eyes, it was going to be sorry. And yet I couldn’t be, because it was going to kill us if we didn’t find a way to stop it.

The tail lashed out again, this time cracking in the air like a whip before it withdrew into the bushes. A few seconds passed in silence—and then, with no more warning than that, the lindworm charged.

Its body was long enough that the tail hits had been coming from almost directly behind the head; it had been curved in a vast C-shape, using the brush for cover. When it came at us, its open mouth was pointed almost directly at me. I fired twice, aiming for the back of its throat. At least one of my shots struck home; the lindworm coughed, mouth slamming shut, and began to slither off to the left, either trying to flank or flee. It was impossible for me to tell which it was.