"You," she said slowly, "are a sex demon. With a tail. And a—" she caught herself, jaw tightening, "—you are going to help my camp."
"I can design traps," he said simply. "Defensive perimeter. Better than the leaf-pile nonsense you've got along the northeast approach. Saw three gaps on the way in."
The words landed with the flat authority of someone who had simply observed and concluded, without theater. Lira stared at him. Then she looked around at her camp—the patched walls, the improvised fencing, the places she knew were weak and had been losing sleep over. Her jaw worked. "Fine," she said stiffly. "Don't touch anything without asking."
What followed was a day that nobody in the camp would forget.
