My breath caught in my throat, heat rising under his gaze. For a moment, everything else faded, leaving only the space between us. The air grew oppressive with something I didn’t dare name, and in the silence, I felt us drifting toward a line neither of us fully understood.
Malek opened his mouth to speak, but a sharp voice cut through the moment. I turned and saw Ni’kira—the same orc who was always flirting with him—standing at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, a calculating look on her face.
She said something about a hunt. Malek only nodded, dismissing her. Over his broad shoulders, I caught the flash ofanger on her face before she turned and disappeared into the shadows of the woods.
“Let’s go. That’s enough for today, krash’uk.” He held out a hand, and I took it.
“What does that mean? Krash’uk.” I repeated it, the word tugging at something in my memory. “I’ve heard it before… I’m sure of it.”
“One day you’ll know,” he said, a hint of mystery in his tone, before handing me a canteen.
“I think I’ve heard it somewhere…” I murmured, taking a long drink of the cold water.
"Perhaps it’s similar to a word from Oguksh."
My throat closed at the mention of the Oguk dialect—I didn’t know a single word of it. Oguk was far from Ceilte, one of the most remote clans in Lyraen, and we rarely had any contact with them. If Malek—or anyone else—started speaking it, I wouldn't know how to respond.
The Ruk’hai arched an eyebrow at my coughing, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"A-ah, yes... that must be it," I stammered, trying to recover.
Malek smiled again and gave me a quick wink before turning and walking off across the meadow.
???
The bath was quick this time. My aching body welcomed the cold water as I rubbed ingyl leaves into my muscles, easing the soreness.
When I returned to the village, the bonfire was more lively than ever, the air filled with the scent of roasted meat andsmoke. Malek, however, was nowhere in sight. I pushed aside the flicker of disappointment and took my portion.
Some orcs waved at me with friendly smiles. Their attitude toward me had changed completely in such a short time, all because I was akra’yn.
After I greeted some of them, I made my way to Kalisha, who was already eating her kuran’k. She seemed different today—quieter, her face touched with concern.
"You look terrible," she remarked, not taking her eyes off her stew. Apparently, her bad mood remained intact.
"The Ruk’hai is a tough teacher," I replied, taking a bite of meat.
"Malek isn’t easy to win over," she added, pulling me from my thoughts.
I frowned. "Why do you say that?"
Kalisha looked up, her gaze steady, almost challenging. “He doesn’t like to socialize.”
I let out a small laugh. “I’ve noticed.”
“He only cares about battle and the clan. He’s never given a female this kind of attention before.”
“What about Ni’kira?” I asked.
“Persistent. They all are. But Malek never accepts their offers.”
A chill ran down my spine. “And you?” I asked carefully. “Did you try too?”
She looked at me like I’d said something unforgivable and spat on the ground.
“Brusak!” she snapped. “Malek’s kuturo. Family.”
Heat rushed to my face. Now that I looked closer, I could see the resemblance—the skin tone and the eye color.
