Once it was safely tucked inside, I relaxed, feeling better that I had another meal at the ready. My eyes strayed to the tent flaps and then to the fur boots at the end of the bed. Going over to them, I slipped my bare feet in, wiggling my toes inside, and then walked to the entrance, wondering if I would be punished again for disobeying the horde king’s orders.
I didn’t like being cooped up inside, which was why I hated the cold season so much. My need for fresh air and my curiosity about the horde camp won out, so I ducked through the tent flaps into frigid air.
I won’t go far, I told myself, knowing I shouldn’t push my body too much, especially since I’d been sick and bedridden for the last five days.
When I straightened and took my first look at the horde encampment, my lips parted and my eyes widened.
“Oh,” I whispered, my breath fogging in front of me, given the coolness of the early morning.
Close to sixty or seventy domed tents stretched far and wide in front of me. The encampment was tucked close to a mountain range, which jutted up directly behind the horde king’s tent. There was a clear entrance to the encampment, a tall fence with a gate, much like my own village’s. When I looked to the west, past the rows of tents near the entrance, I saw a river, and when I looked east, I saw a large enclosure almost equal in size to the entire camp, the Dakkari’s black-scaled creatures roaming within.
As I studied the camp further, I saw training grounds. I saw what looked like a crop field beyond the walls. I saw a massive domed tent, ten times as large as the rest, with steam curling from a hole at the top. Actually, I saw that there were a handful of tents that were larger than the others, though I couldn’t guess their purpose from that distance.
The horde king’s tent was set apart from the rest, up on a small incline, so I was able to see the entire camp with ease. And I could see beyond the walls from that vantage point. Lonely plains met my gaze, which would soon be frozen over.
“Vekkiri kalles, juniri ta voliki,” came a male’s gruff voice behind me. I jumped and turned around. I’d been so surprised by the sight of the camp that I hadn’t noticed a Dakkari male standing guard a short distance away.
He was a horde warrior, judging by his size and the scar that ran down his cheek.
“Oh, hello,” I said, a little hesitantly, eyeing his bulk and the tail that flicked behind him.
He frowned, stepping towards me, studying me as carefully as I was studying him. “Juniri ta voliki,” he repeated, this time more slowly. And if I had any doubts about what he was saying, he made a sweeping motion towards the tent’s entrance with one of his massive arms.
“I just want to walk a little,” I responded. His frown deepened and when I took a step down the short incline, he stepped towards me. “I’ll come back, I promise.”
He was speaking in rapid Dakkari the further I ventured from the tent, but he didn’t move to grab me, simply stayed close, no doubt trying to urge me back towards the tent in a language I didn’t understand. But the cold air felt good across my cheeks and it smelled fresh and crisp. I almost smiled with how good it felt.
I didn’t notice the stares at first when I began to venture into the camp. Staring didn’t bother me. I’d been stared at before. I just walked slowly, curiously inspecting the tents, and shamelessly attempted to look inside any open flaps I saw. I came across Dakkari along my way, females and males and children, from young to old.
It was all sonew, so vibrant, so exciting.
An older Dakkari male was watching me closely from the entrance of his own tent, munching on the same purple bread I’d had earlier. I looked at it, perhaps too long, because I saw him hold it out to me in offering. When I looked into his eyes in surprise, I said, “Oh, no. Um,nik. I already ate.”
“You look hungry,” he replied, his voice raspy with age, his accent the deepest I’d heard. Behind him, I saw movement and a small boy appeared, looking around the older male’s legs at me. The irises of his yellow eyes went rounder, widening.
“I have some already,” I said, patting the pocket of my new pants, feeling the weight of the food at my thigh. Even still, a part of me was tempted to take the offered food and add it to my stash. “But thank you. That’s very kind.”
All he did was grunt and chewed off another chunk before handing the rest to the boy.
“Are you fromDothik?” I asked. Behind me, I heard the guard break into another tangent of Dakkari, but I ignored him.
The older male cocked his head to the side at me. “How do you know that?”
I swore he looked amused as I said, “I learned today that if you grow up inDothik, you learn the universal language, though I don’t quite understand why.”
It made me wonder for the first time if the demon king was fromDothiktoo, since he spoke the universal language.
The male guffawed and I jerked a little at the sound of the deep laugh. “Lysi, kalles, I am fromDothik.” The boy said something in Dakkari and the older male translated. “He says your eyes are odd.”
“You can tell him I think his eyes are odd as well,” I said gently, my lips quirking at the corners when I looked down at the boy. When the male translated my words, the boy’s own odd eyes went wide again. For a moment, I feared I would make him cry and I bit my lip, unsure and worried. But then he too broke off in a strange little high-pitched laugh.
Something rose in me at the sound and right there, for the first time in what seemed like years, I chuckled too. Brief and short, but a laugh nonetheless.
A smile lingered on my lips but then I heard heavy footsteps approach behind me. I saw the boy’s eyes dart to whoever approached and then his eyes went wide for a different reason entirely.
“Vekkiri,” came a familiar voice, deep and harsh. His presence was unmistakable, overwhelming. I would’ve known it was him even if he hadn’t spoken.
The smile died from my face. I looked at the boy once more and then I turned to face the demon king.
