Godkiller gave her a few pertinent details and welcomed her to the camp. In two days, they would have a discussion about her goals. If she wanted, she would have the NDA magically enforced so she could learn enough to accept or reject positions that seemed like a good fit for her.

  He also emphasized that he would be her interviewer, not Birch. She was merely here to review and audit this site. Which, coincidentally, let her stick her nose into almost anything that was being done while an employee of the Blightbanes was on the clock.

  That, he emphasized, did not mean she would influence hiring decisions in any way.

  Shilloh took it all as gracefully and professionally as she was able. She left the tent with a polite nod. Birch had long since gotten bored and walked out, so she left alone; the others stayed to debrief.

  Still, she was incredibly unsurprised to find her short, insane friend waiting outside while petting Fraulein.

  "Hey!" the chaos goblin chirped, not taking her eyes off the smaller-than-usual body Fraulein had decided to use today.

  "Fraulein, she might be a traitor. Don't trust her."

  The bobcat did not move.

  "She said that she wanted to paint your nails and find a tiara that would hook around your ears.

  Nothing happened.

  "She's the one who spilled the bag of catnip I got you and then threw it all away because it had gotten 'too dusty.'"

  The big cat hissed at Birch, causing the other woman to jump back with both hands up. "Whoa! Don't tell your boss on me—"

  Allowing any sort of joking in this situation was beyond her. "No."

  "What? You're going to call Papa in to HR? I don't—"

  "Birch, this is my career and my dream. You and I are going to walk somewhere private, and you are going to tell exactly what's going on."

  Without waiting for a response, she stalked away. Birch, after trying to yell out increasingly obscene jokes to embarrass her, eventually cursed and ran to catch up.

  By the time they had reached the edge of the woods, Shilloh was feeling twitchy and afraid. How much did Birch know about her secrets? Had she been a plant? Were her other new friends feeding information on her to big organizations, too? Had they only saved her from the Limb Stealers as an act of asset protection rather than loyalty?

  A vivid picture came to her mind. It was Birch, smiling and talking to a doctor who had just received a few vials of her hormone delivery early.

  With a breath, she tried to loosen her muscles. This was Birch. Birch was nuts. But Birch also loved and cared about her. This was not a kidnapping; she was not a target. She was a woman about to clear up what could be either a bad prank, a terrible boundary violation, or simple communication. That's it.

  Her truest ally picked up on her mood, and Fraulein bumped against her shins in support. It helped. Shilloh reached out to the air and the woods, and convinced the bushes that they were better at catching sound than they should have been.

  Despite standing only yards from camp, the noise pollution around them noticeably decreased. Not all the way. Magic like this was not terribly replicable or predictable. And, unfortunately, her feelings were confused. Not only was there some sound leakage, but a thorn or two went out of their way to prick Birch as she followed behind Shilloh.

  "Explain, please."

  Birch, who was frowning at the small bead of blood the thorn had left on her thumb, grunted out an answer, "You didn't want to do this alone. So I found a way to be here for a week or two."

  "That's it?"

  "I was going to help you cheat on your interview, but my clearance wasn't high enough, and I had to do the magic non-disclosure thing too. Now I can't"

  "But how?"

  "How did I get here?"

  "Yes!"

  With a carefully blank face, Birch reached into her purse and pulled out a keychain that held a bunch of small plastic toys. All of which had several tiny plastic buttons. A forest green little knick-knack with orange money symbols was extracted. Birch mashed her thumb into the cheap button and, in the recorded voice of a famous old school comedian, it cried out, "I'M RICH, BITCH!"

  They looked at each other.

  Shilloh's eye started to twitch.

  An impish grin twitched the corners of Birch's mouth, and her free hand dropped towards her camera.

  ~~~

  A few minutes later, and one game of keep-the-camera-away-from-the-pissed-off-super-lady, and they were both standing again in the sound-damped edge of the forest.

  Fraulein, regally seated between Shiloh's boots, managed to stare down her nose at Birch despite the height difference. Though the way her claws were kneading the ground should have been a sign of comfort, something about the motion seemed deliberately threatening.

  Thinking about her animal friend of unknown magical capability and mysterious sapience was probably not what she should be doing now. She should be asking questions.

  "Do you know what I am?" she whispered, eyes dropping to her human friend's shoes.

  Birch stared at her for a second, sighed, and rehung her old-school camera from a strap around her neck. "Friends ruin all the fun," she muttered before raising her voice to speak clearly. "No, Shilloh. It was hard to do, but I was about to indirectly find out where you were going, donated some cash while earmarking it to that program, and added a contingency that I would get to review and audit, so I could preferentially allocate how my donation would be spent. Once I was cleared and swore the magic Cub Scout oath to share no secrets, they gave me your file. But I didn't read it, and I won't read it. Not unless you give me permission."

  Shilloh was so shocked that she could not think of a single appropriate thing to say.

  "Really?"

  "Really."

  "How? I mean, like, just, how?"

  A recorded voice cried out, "I'M RICH, BITCH!"

  "Details, please."

  Birch's hand moved to a different button, and Shilloh raised a finger. "Pertinent details that respond to the intent of my question."

  "God. Why are you so boooooooooring?"

  Shilloh didn't answer, just crossed her arms and tapped a foot.

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  "Fine. I genuinely just did all of this with money. I'm very rich and pretty good with money. Consider it my magic. I cast greed, nepotism, and capitalistic favoritism and thus defy the conventions of our world. Though this was not an easy spell, let me tell you what. I was already pretty involved with the Blightbanes; it's a good place to keep track of and to provide nudges. If you know which part of the state their resources are going into, you know to avoid it and do some other smart things with investment timing. Which lets you support local businesses needing to recover, make a bundle, and reinvest in the banes so they'll listen to suggestions and not do a half ass job. But to get here, with him," she pointed a thumb back behind them, where Godkiller was in his tent. "I didn't just donate a new wing to their hospital. I had to give them a breast, a wing, and two thighs, too."

  "You're not joking, are you?"

  "About the wing and thigh thing?"

  "No, about going out of your way to be here when I needed it."

  "And being rich. Like uber rich."

  "Yeah, Shilloh snorted. I don't think you're joking about that either."

  "I'd say you're damn straight that I wasn't, but we both know you're about as straight as a dual dental dam and flannel shirt sale."

  The two of them shared a look. Shilloh's eyes were very unambiguously watering, and Birch's bombastic overconfidence didn't cover the way she was shuffling her feet and clenching her fists in her pockets.

  This was close to a moment where most people hugged and said they were like sisters.

  "Okay, first," Shilloh said," I'm bi, not a lesbian. The plaid I wear is for the woods, not my sexuality."

  Birch's posture relaxed fractionally, and she shot her friend a grateful look. "I mean, I know you're bi, but that's way less funny than saying it's about as straight as finger-guns, and sitting cross-legged in an office chair."

  "Well, shit, excuse me, madam 'money-is-my-super-power.' I'll go work on better stereotypes to facilitate your emotionally stunted methods for avoiding vulnerability."

  "Thank you!"

  "You're an amazing friend," Shilloh fired back.

  "Eww," Birch leaned back and scrunched up her face.

  "I value you," Shilloh said, spitting it out like an insult. "Even without the sacrifice you're currently playing off, you are a deeply important person to me.

  "Stop!"

  "I would trust you with my life!"

  Her friend paused, "Well, that's actually not a bad point. I did do that cool thing while I was hanging out the window—"

  "I plan on telling my grandmother that you're like a sister to me!"

  "Gross, Shilloh! That's gay."

  With a malicious smile, she shot the other woman two sets of finger guns. "You're as good at being a friend as you are bad at being a drug dealer."

  Fraulein's ears pulled back, and she narrowed her eyes fractionally as she remembered her own drug-related grievances.

  That, obviously, took priority over any further human concerns.

  After Birch had finished promising Fraulein that she would get her some real good shit, like the deluxe catnip imported from where it was strong, the two humans started walking again.

  "So, you can't help me too much with the job stuff, right?"

  "Nope! Mostly did this so I could see the look on your face when I showed up."

  Something deep inside Shilloh shifted. With the thud of a boulder falling, Birch became one of Shilloh's people. No question, no hesitation. That was her person. The magic in her shifted, but she paid it no mind. Instead, the dryad lifted her middle finger, "Fuck right off. Can you at least tell me what you think my odds are?"

  "Godkiller over there," Birch said, waving towards the tent," or Gibbily Kibbly, as I like to call him, is not a dumb person. Don't let the puns fool you; you don't get a title like that for no reason. I would be shocked if they don't see your value."

  "You know, a thought occurs to me," the dryad said. Stay very nonchalant. "Goobles Koobles, as I affectionately refer to her, has probably read my file. That means you're working at an informational disadvantage. You want to skim through it while I'm here to answer questions? It might help your assessment."

  There was a pause. Though both kept their eyes straight ahead, it could pass unacknowledged.

  "Yeah. But don't worry about the job too much," Birth said. "Like they always say, it's about who you know, not what you know. And you know me, and I'm rich. So everything will be fine."

  "Because I know you?"

  "Because you're a bad bitch, and my boy Gigglehop Killawat is pretty smart."

  "And because you're rich?"

  "I'M RICH, BITCH!"

  ~~~

  Hours later, and a few trays of surprisingly decent food from the mess. Birch finished reading as Shilloh deftly pulled a tea kettle off a camp stove so the spout of steam would hit and de-wrinkle her nice interview clothes.

  They were both in another tent. This one was Birch's and was just as spacious and nice as Godkillers had been.

  "Okay, I'm done," the shorter woman said.

  Shilloh felt her stomach clench. But, on the other hand, now she didn't need to explain the kidnapping situation herself. So that was a win? Maybe. Verbalizing it would have brought up bad memories, and she didn't want her friend to know.

  "Fun read?" she asked.

  "Ehh, I don't know, seemed like an awfully long file when they could have just said your wild talent is an Old Testament version of the power of friendship and you're a Fancy-Pantsy Nature Nancy."

  "…Fancy-Pantsy Nature Nancy?"

  Birch smacked the folder, "That's what the file said."

  "I take it back. You and Scotty can never get together, and if either of you reproduced ("perish the thought" Birch shuddered), it can never be with each other."

  "He say something similar?"

  "Almost word for word."

  Birch frowned.

  "Are you thinking that you're getting too predictable and need to do wilder shit to offset it?"

  Birch's frown turned into a proper glower.

  "Hey, what was your special magic by he way? I think I forgot."

  A conflict raged across the usually carefree, impish face before Birch's hand dove into her purse, and she gave in to the temptation. "I'M RICH, BITCH!"

  Shilloh laughed.

  "You'll be sorry when I commission a twelve-foot-tall modernist sculpture and dedicate it to all the poor sperm who died as heroes trying and failing to keep your awful, unworthy genes from reaching the egg."

  "Whatever," Shilloh said, still smiling and putting her tea kettle back on the camp stove. "What do you think my odds at a big-paying job are now they you've read my file?"

  Birch leaned back, crossed her arms, and gave the cartographer a measuring look, "I've got a pretty good idea. But, I'll only tell you on one condition."

  "What condition?"

  "You are no longer obligated to try to pick a job that will keep you in Forsythe. However, you will agree to still finding a way for us to spend as much time together as we reasonably can in the future."

  "That's it?"

  "I mean, could I also get you to make me a shepherd's pie with your grandma's recipe? The one you talked about in the caravan after we went to that one Irish pub."

  "Sure."

  "Then can I also get you to take care of my garden?"

  "Maybe. You would have to hang out with me during gardening, then provide food, drinks, and entertainment afterward. And I get veto rights on coming over. You can't just summon me."

  "Deal."

  "Solid. Anything else?"

  Her friend shrugged, "I don't know. That's probably fine."

  The two shook on it, and Shilloh sat on the cot across from her friends' camp chair.

  "Alright, hit me with it. What's the prognosis?"

  "You, my friend, have some huge possibilities. There are a few jobs they are considering, some of them truly wild. And you can get anyone you want. The only question is how insane you are."

  "Depends on the max pay."

  A sly smile came to her face, "Knowing you now, I think it would be acceptable. But—based on the version of you who was described in the file—they may not pay enough for that girl to leave assured comfort and safety. After all, her only goals seemed to be recovering from trauma and recovering from the loss of her home when she had to go into hiding."

  Shilloh felt a smile grow on her own face, "Is it just me, or does that disconnect sound like something one might be able to leverage in a negotiation?"

  Her friend wiggled her eyebrows and leaned in, "Here's the deal. You go in and interview. You're going to knock them dead. I would bet my commemorative Dolly Parton cast-iron pan that you have passed to the next phase. They'll get you all magiced up so you can't share secrets."

  "And the magic isn't too painful a process?"

  "Annoying and based on some assumptions I find insulting, but completely tolerable."

  That sounded alright. Godkiller had let her leave with a printout of the oath they'd require. She'd read the fine print and was okay with everything she'd seen. Plus, it was famously difficult to magically bind a dryad if they didn't want it done. If they tried to pull a switcheroo, she would bet that she could avoid being unfairly bound. There were some magical reasons, but mostly because her people had centuries of experience avoiding exploitative deals meant to literally bleed them for all they were worth.

  "Okay," she nodded," so I get magically sworn to secrecy. Then what?"

  "Then they tell you about the jobs they think you might be a fit for. No matter what, you say it is such a shock and honor that you would like to take a lunch break to think it over and come back with more questions."

  "And I'm assuming you'll be joining me for lunch, with the limits on what you can tell me having been significantly reduced."

  Her friend leaned back and cackled. "Oh, Shilloh, you have no idea. I know you're worried about Scotty and I hooking up, but he's not who you should be worried about. See, as pleasant as ole Goders Kooters is, I don't want to hang out with them. I don't want to spend time with them. We're not friends. And that means I have no issues bending them over that negotiating table and fucking them raw."

  This time it was Shilloh's turn to laugh. But only briefly. After all, there were still clothes to steam and chaos to foment.

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