The next morning brought more travel. Camp disappeared piece by piece as the tents came down and Thorn released the branches of the living shelter from their woven shape. Once packs and weapons had been gathered, Garrick returned to the front with the map and led them north again.
The forest continued to thicken around them. Bushes crowded the spaces between the trees and low branches reached across their path, leaving fewer places where the hunters could spread out. They often had to walk behind one another, watching where the person ahead placed their feet before following through.
Suraia remained near Thorn, stepping carefully across the roots and uneven ground. Vasha moved more freely along the line, sometimes beside the Ee’dornil and sometimes nearer Darron. The hunters closed the gaps between them whenever the growth became too dense to walk side by side.
The hours of walking gave the day a slow shape. Quintra moved above the canopy while the group followed the uncertain guidance of charcoal marks and Thorn’s knowledge of the land. The path never became a true path beneath their feet. It was only the direction they chose through roots, fallen leaves and closely growing trees.
Their line stretched and gathered with every change in the ground. Garrick was sometimes hidden by the width of a tree before the others caught up with him again. Rendall remained close to Kaelen, while Elira continued watching the undergrowth and Malrik walked with his book tucked away. Darron repeatedly found his way back towards Vasha whenever there was room beside her.
As the day continued, the canopy blocked more of Quintra’s light. What reached the forest floor came through in smaller patches, moving across trunks and leaves while the group travelled beneath them. Nobody needed to be told how far they had already walked; it showed in the slower lifting of boots and the relief with which packs were lowered once Garrick finally called an end to the day.
By the time they stopped, the light between the trunks had already begun to fade. Garrick chose a space wide enough for the tents, and the familiar work of making camp began again. Stakes were driven into the soil, packs were set down and the fire was coaxed to life. A little farther from the others, Thorn shaped another living shelter from branches, leaves and moss before closing it with a curtain of ivy.
The separate movements gradually formed a camp. Tents stood between the trees, the living shelter rested near the edge of the firelight and the hunters settled into the places they had begun choosing each evening. Their voices returned as the work ended, no longer competing with the sounds of boots, hammered stakes and shifting equipment.
Soon the smell of food settled over the camp. Stew simmered near the flames and meat was set to roast above them. Steam rose from the pot while drops of fat hissed whenever they fell into the fire. After the long silence of the journey, laughter slowly returned. A flask began making its way around the circle, passing from one hand to the next whenever somebody finished drinking.
Garrick drank as though it were medicine. Rendall drank as though it were revenge. Kaelen’s humour sharpened with every sip she took.
Suraia watched the flask make its way around the circle. When it finally reached her, the redheaded woman raised one hand politely rather than taking it. “No thank you.”
Rendall kept the flask extended towards her. “Just a sip,” he insisted, as if her refusal were an insult. “Warms your blood.”
The healer glanced from the drink to his face. She opened her mouth while a blush spread across her cheeks, but no sound came out. Rendall still waited, holding the flask across the space between them as though the matter hadn’t already been answered.
Thorn watched the exchange from beside her. He spoke before Suraia managed to force out anything resembling a word.
“It is her decision,” he said, quiet and firm. “Respect it.”
Rendall’s eyes moved towards the large elf. For a brief moment, he didn’t move at all. Then he shrugged and pulled the flask back with a muttered complaint.
The moment passed as the bottle moved on to somebody else. Suraia lowered her hands into her lap and looked towards Thorn with gratitude in her eyes. The Ee’dornil gave no further attention to Rendall, remaining where he sat beside the curly redhead.
Across the fire, Darron had angled himself closer to Vasha again. The Oakhai sat with her bow within reach and her tail curved beside her, listening as the other conversations continued around them.
“So,” he said lightly, “you shoot like that all the time, or was I lucky enough to see a rare performance?”
Vasha’s ears flicked towards him. “Do I always shoot a boar between it’s eyes?”
Darron’s smile widened. “Aye.”
“I don’t often miss,” Vasha said, and there was pride in it.
“Ouch,” Darron replied with a crooked grin. “As an archer myself, I like to believe I’m good. But a shot like that... Pheww.”
The Oakhai watched him for a moment before her grin returned. “You’re not bad yourself,” she said, then leant towards him a fraction. “Can you hit a leaf at fifty paces?”
Darron also leant a little closer. “On a calm day, maybe” he said, giving her a playful smile.
Vasha’s grin turned mischievous. “Show me.”
Kaelen made a gagging sound from the other side of the fire. “Oh, please.”
The ebony-skinned woman shot her a look. “What?”
“Nothing,” Kaelen said quickly and gave her a harmless smile. “You and Darron… bonding.”
Darron straightened and looked genuinely offended by the suggestion. “I’m just having a good conversation with a fellow archer.”
Vasha’s ears remained turned towards him even after her attention moved back to the fire. The flames caught the edges of her pale hair and the blue tip of her tail as it moved once beside her.
Darron didn’t move back to his former place. He remained beside the hybird woman while the talk around them changed, both of them still wearing the remains of their grins.
The evening remained light for a while. Stories passed around the campfire, Garrick bragged and Rendall laughed whenever the dwarf reached the most impressive part of whatever he was telling. Even Elira’s mouth twitched once or twice. The young elf sat beside Suraia and occasionally gave her an encouraging smile.
The human woman mostly listened. She remained tucked safely near Thorn, eating the stew while voices moved around the circle.
The bottle passed around several more times as the night continued. Garrick’s words grew louder, Rendall’s laughter came more easily and Kaelen became less steady each time she moved. Eventually the half-elven woman stood and gestured unsteadily towards the living shelter Thorn had made.
Beyond the reach of the flames, the blue moon showed between the branches. Denday’s light touched the upper leaves of Thorn’s shelter while the ivy curtain beneath them remained dark.
“You lot really do live in trees, don’t you?” she said, her smile thin. “Do you also howl at the blue moon when you can’t find your way?”
Vasha’s grin faltered. Across the fire, Elira glanced from Kaelen to the Oakhai and then around at the others with growing unease.
Kaelen noticed the silence that followed. “It was a joke,” she added quickly. “Don’t be so sensitive.”
The woman with the fox ears stood. Her ears twitched backwards and her tail flicked restlessly behind her. “Jokes are meant to be funny,” she said, her voice tight.
Kaelen lifted both hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying—”
“You’re just blabbering on,” Vasha snapped. Then she turned away from the half elf. “I’m going to get some sleep.”
The Oakhai walked out of the firelight without looking back.
Suraia watched Vasha leave with concern. After a moment, she rose quietly and followed her away from the others.
The sounds of the camp faded after only a short distance. Vasha stood near its edge where the forest swallowed voices and laughter, her arms folded while she stared into the dark.
Suraia left the last of the firelight behind as she approached. The darkness between the trees made the camp seem farther away than it was, although its glow remained visible through the gaps behind them.
The human woman slowed before coming too close. “Vasha, are you alright?” she asked.
The ebony-skinned woman didn’t turn immediately. When she finally looked towards Suraia, her smile came too quickly. “I’ll be fine,” she said dismissively.
Suraia remained where she was. “Are you sure?” she asked softly.
Vasha’s ears flicked backwards once before she nodded. Neither woman spoke for several moments. The silence between them said more than another quick answer would have done.
Then the Oakhai’s expression shifted and a mischievous grin formed upon her lips.
“So,” she said. “You like him, don’t you?”
Suraia froze and blinked a couple of times. “W-what?”
“Thorn,” Vasha clarified, delighted. “You like him!”
The curly redhead’s cheeks began to burn. Her eyes moved briefly towards the camp, although the living shelter and the people around the fire were hidden behind the trees from where they stood.
“He is… kind,” she managed. “And strong. And…” Her voice dropped. “Muscular… Tall.”
Vasha beamed. “Mm.”
Suraia looked down at her hands, the colour in her cheeks deepening. “But he’s an Ee’dornil,” she added quickly. “He could be centuries old and I’m only a human.”
The Oakhai woman simply nodded and waited.
Suraia looked as though she wanted to say something more, but no words came. Instead, she covered her face with both hands, mortified.
Vasha chuckled and lightly swung one arm around the human woman’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. I totally get it.”
For a moment, Vasha glanced towards Darron who’s silhouette could just be made out through the canopy, and Suraia followed her gaze.
The redheaded woman lowered her hands and inhaled before asking carefully, “Do you like Darron?”
Vasha didn’t answer. Instead, she guided Suraia back through the ivy curtain and into the living shelter, then eased her onto one of the moss beds.
The campfire became only a muted glow beyond the leaves. Vasha carefully lit a lantern Elira had borrowed them for the shelter and remained standing for a moment before she finally sat near Suraia.
The ivy fell back into place behind them and softened the remaining sounds from outside. Within the shelter, the moss beds filled most of the small space, leaving the two women close enough to speak quietly. The light of the lantern filling the space just enough for the human woman to be able to see the Oakhai’s face.
“I don’t know,” Vasha said. “We’ve only just met… but...”
Suraia looked at the woman with the ebony skin and nodded softly, waiting for her to continue without interrupting.
Vasha’s eyes lowered towards her hands. “I like him yes… And I want him to like me for being me,” she continued. “But there is something that… you can’t see from the outside. I… wasn’t born a woman. I am transgender.”
Suraia blinked. Vasha remained quiet while she waited for an answer.
Then the human woman smiled gently. “If he truly likes you then that shouldn’t matter, should it? It doesn’t change who you are.”
Relief showed clearly in Vasha’s eyes. Her shoulders lowered, although she still remained quiet.
“Thank you for telling me though,” Suraia said gently. “Sometimes it’s hard to reveal something that is so personal and intimate.”
Vasha suddenly hugged her. Suraia folded her arms around the ebony-skinned woman and held her closely, feeling the tension leave the woman in her arms.
After a moment, the Oakhai let go and looked at her. A chuckle escaped her with real warmth this time. “Come on,” she murmured. “Let’s get some rest. I think there is going to be loads of more walking, tomorrow.”