Kalisha waited for me at the hut with an expression that was anything but friendly. No surprise there.
"You took your time," she said, as blunt as ever.
"Uruha’s quite the talker," I lied, following her out.
We returned to the fire where we had breakfast, or kuruno. The meal consisted of a thick paste, almost like porridge, made from roots and dried fruits. It was sweet, surprisingly tasty, and enough to give me energy for the day.
"What’s my job today?" I asked.
Kalisha handed me a basket. "Kitchen. Gather roots in the forest. Follow the path and try not to get lost."
"Why would I get lost?"
“It’s Marukoksha,” she replied, as though it were the most obvious explanation in the world. "The forest swallows those who aren’t strong."
I stared at Kalisha for a moment before nodding. Marukoksha was the name they gave to Eldaerenth, the great forest known for its diversity of flora and fauna. It was a shared space between Oksha and Ceilte, though the part that lay within Ceilte had never been a threat to me before.
"Fine," I replied. "I'll go."
I stepped out of the hut and followed the path Kalisha had indicated. The basket was large but light, and soon I left the village behind, moving to the denser part of the forest.
The sun had risen enough for the rays to pierce through the tree canopy, scattering patches of light across the ground. I walked for a few minutes, paying attention to my surroundings. Thick, twisted roots snaked across the soil, while flowers and leaves of strange shapes sprouted everywhere. The forest’s magic pulsed around me, familiar and alive, responding subtly to my presence.
My maternal grandmother, Roselin, had taught me to feel the magic of Ceilte, the magic of the earth, An Talamh, when I was a child. The magic gene had skipped my mother and came to me, but I had never been able to use it very well. Now, however, it answered me with an ease I had never experienced before, fiercer and more alive. I felt the energy flow into me, racing through my veins like a river until it reached my fingertips.
I stopped and concentrated, reaching out to touch the rough bark of a centuries-old tree. Closing my eyes, I let the force of the earth surge through my body, waiting for it to recognize me. The leaves shivered at the contact, and at my feet, a small wildflower bloomed.
"Wow," I whispered in awe. I had never been able to do that as easily before.
I smiled and plucked the flower, tucking it behind my ear. As much as I loathed this new orc body, it seemed to amplify the raw strength of my magic. I returned to my task, gathering the roots Kalisha had requested while following the trail that cut through the woods. As I worked, I sang an ancient Ceilte song dedicated to the Goddess Danu, the goddess of the earth and fertility. The melody soothed me, pulling memories of home to the surface. My mother used to sing this during festivals while everyone danced, clapping to the rhythm of the drums. It was a song about hope, that for everything that dies, something new is born.
"Give us your strength, your magic, your life…"
I stopped singing when a low whistle sounded behind me.
When I turned, the Ruk’hai of the Oksha was there, his massive axe resting across his shoulders, watching me once again. My eyes involuntarily traced the expanse of green skin stretched over his taut muscles and defined abs, and the trail of dark hair descending from his navel to the waistband of the leather loincloth covering his lower body.
"You sing," he said, drawing my gaze back to his face.
My face burned as I realized I’d been caught staring at him. "Are you following me?" I asked, ignoring his comment.
"The forest is dangerous."
"I can take care of myself," I shot back.
He eyed me from head to toe, not in a malicious way, as many males in Ceilte would do, but with a steady focus that was difficult to decipher.
"It doesn't look like it," he said, stepping closer. I took a step back by instinct.
"I’m not a child, Ruk’hai."
"I didn't say you were," he replied, his voice low. "I said the forest is dangerous."
He stopped a few inches from me, far too close for comfort. His scent took over, strong, drowning out even the damp scent of the surrounding forest.
"What do you want?" I asked, keeping my chin tilted up despite the tension tightening in my chest.
He shrugged, then his gaze shifted to my right ear, where the pink-petaled flower rested among my hair. His breath hitched, his eyes widening.
