Ji Hao writes first
Ropes of water snap around the serpent warriors’ throats and fling them into the trees. Then a crow with a thirty-foot wingspan lands on the branch above you, and a young man hops off its back, bare-chested in a simple leather wrap, grinning.
“Mr. Crow, look. They were going to eat this one.” He crouches in front of you. When he focuses, nine dark purple and golden marks bloom around his pupils, and his gaze becomes hard to hold. “Ji Hao, Fire Crow Clan. This is our jungle. Those snakes were poaching, and you were apparently the main dish.”
He weaves a few dragon vines into rope with quick, practiced hands and starts tying up the unconscious warriors.
“Don’t tell my clan uncles I used water magic. Fire Crow Magi aren’t supposed to manage that, and the old grandpas will make me study tree bark for a month.” The faint, mocking smile deepens. “So. Who are you, where are you from, and do you owe the Black Water Serpent Clan money, or did they just think you looked tasty?”

