“Yes,” I agreed.
We crested the rise together, the encampment coming into view beyond the trees.
Caleb lifted his chin toward the center of the encampment.
“There,” he said quietly. “By the ridge stone.”
I followed his line of sight and saw that a makeshift tent had been erected where the tree line gave way to exposed rock. It wasn’t decorative or symbolic, just canvas stretched tight over a rough frame, staked into ground that didn’t fully welcome it. Two heavy spears marked the entrance. They weren’t ornamental, merely practical.
The leader would likely be inside.
As we descended the last stretch of slope, the crowd shifted, and conversations faltered.
It was a sea of broad-shouldered orcs, weathered and armed with well-worn travel leathers.
They didn’t appear to be posturing, but they were braced. Maybe for uncertainty? Or perhaps a signal?
Keegan stepped closer to me. I knew he wasn’t being possessive or claiming me. He was just steady, and his presence anchored my breathing, anchored me.
Nova and Ardetia hung back a pace, allowing space so we didn’t look threatening, but Caleb didn’t slow.
The first orc we passed watched us with narrowed eyes, but didn’t move to block the way. The second shifted his weight, jaw tight. A third muttered something low to the one beside him.
The trail parted, but it wasn’t out of welcome, more like acceptance.
With every step forward, the tension grew more tangible. It lived in the set of shoulders. In the way that hands hovered near weapons without quite gripping them. In the shallow breaths of warriors who had not yet chosen violence, but had considered it.
My birthmark pulsed slightly, but it wasn’t flaring as it did in Shadowick. There was no immediate danger.
I looked around to see some orcs pacing while others were trying to keep themselves busy with weapons and leather. It wasn’t a calm existence, to say the least.
Caleb spoke without looking at me. “I told you.”
“Yes. You did.”
It had only been days since they arrived. Days since we walked them through the boundaries, explained the Wards, and promised temporary sanctuary. Yet, they craved home.
Their temporary meant waiting, and waiting meant uncertainty. Uncertainty didn’t sit well with people who had survived scarcity.
We reached the tent. Two guards stood at either side, both taller than Caleb and Keegan by half a head. Their expressions were unreadable, but not blank. Assessing.
Keegan inclined his head once. Respectful. Equal.
One guard looked at Caleb, and he nodded. “Maeve is here to speak with the leaders.”
The guards’ gaze slid to me, and I smiled with a nod.
I wasn’t exactly sure what was customary, but it felt like a smile couldn’t hurt.
A murmur rippled outward through the gathered orcs behind us. It wasn’t loud or chaotic, just contained mutters, and that was almost worse.
I became acutely aware of how small the Academy must seem from here. How fragile our assurances might sound against the weight of abandoned swamps and caverns.
The guards went into the canvas and reappeared quickly.
The canvas shifted, the tent flap opened, and the leader’s wife stepped out.
She was broader than I remembered, or perhaps she only seemed so beneath the weight of the moment. Dark green scars marked her forearms in pale lines. Her braids were pulled tight, beads woven through with symbols I didn’t recognize but respected instinctively.
