As Drackar walked off to check on his orcs, I took another sip of coffee, sinking deeper into my chair. My gaze flicked to Ju.

“Do you happen to have something for pain?” I whispered. “A spell or something?”

She stepped closer, concern flashing in her eyes. “Is something wrong, my lady?”

I snorted at her playing the chaperon role and rubbed my temples. “I have my days, and I hate it.”

She gasped. “Even as a…”

I knew exactly what she was about to ask. Even as a demon, do I still have my days? A shudder ran down my spine at the thought—having my days for all eternity? No, thank you.

But then… was this only happening because I had taken on a human form? Did the transformation include everything? Maybe I had studied the wrong discipline. Instead of transformation, perhaps I should have focused on shapeshifting.

“I don’t know any spells for that,” Ju admitted. “We elves only deal with the problem once per our elves’ year—which is about forty of your years. So… it never really seemed worth the effort to develop a counterspell. Still unpleasant, though.” She sighed and started rummaging through her inventory. “Let me check if I have something that might help.”

Before she could find anything, Lynx’s deep, growling voice cut in.

“I have a better idea.”

I turned towards the growling beast.

“This is a girls problem!” I whispered back, since I was the only one who could understand him, but he shrugged my protest off, completely unfazed.

“I happen to have very fine ears—sorry for eavesdropping,” he said, sounding anything but sorry. “But I do know one thing for sure—lynx ladies feel their best when they go hunting. So… how about a hunting party?” he added with an exaggerated wiggle of his brows.

That did it—I burst out laughing.

He took that as encouragement and continued, “You know, the bad guys got beaten, we should celebrate.”

I blinked at the growling lynx, considering his words. Maybe he had a point. If I shifted into my lynx form, I shouldn’t have this problem anymore… right?

With that thought, the decision was made.

I turned to Ju.

“What’s happening?” she asked, raising a brow.

“I’m going hunting with Lynx,” I said simply. “You’ll coordinate things here in my stead. If anything happens, have the horns sound the alarm—I’ll hear them no matter where I am and come back fast. Also, tell Drackar to inform the castle that the invaders have been dealt with. The queen and the prince should know that everything is under control.”

“Hunting?” she repeated, her expression caught between amusement and confusion. Then, after a brief pause, she nodded. “Take care.”

Leaving the barony’s troubles in Ju’s capable hands, I rode off on Lynx’s back. At least, that’s what it looked like while there were still eyes on us.

The moment we left the village behind, I jumped down, tucked my clothes into my inventory, and shifted into lynx form.

Ahhh. Instant relief. My headache was gone.

With a satisfied flick of my tail, I trotted alongside Lynx, feeling lighter already. As we passed a peasant’s carriage on the road, I couldn’t help but chuckle when the buffalo pulling it took one look at us and promptly collapsed, playing dead.

Amused, I glanced at Lynx.

“So, how exactly did you figure out where they were attacking from?” I growled as we padded along.

Lynx flicked an ear, “When I saw the fire at Donnercup, I ran there and caught sight of them just as they were leaving. I barely managed to take down the last one, but I followed the others through the gate. Cleaned the place up and stuck around since another gate was still open. Three idiots came through it later.”

I stopped mid-step, then burst out laughing.

“Oh, those must have been the guys that escaped Sid! Lol,” I wheezed, rolling over in the dirt, tail flicking.

Lynx watched me with an amused gleam in his eyes, clearly pleased with himself.

“But you risked too much!” I protested, righting myself. “One does not just jump blindly into a teleportation gate—who knows what could’ve been waiting on the other side? It could’ve been a death trap!”

He just shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Well, it wasn’t.”

“I couldn’t let them escape,” he growled, “Not after what I saw. They killed a young family in Donnercup—mother, father, and child. Once I was on the other side… well—surprise, motherfuckers!”

I shook my head. He can be so reckless when he gets emotional.

Without thinking, I lunged forward and hugged him—a bit of an awkward feat in lynx form, but I managed. We rolled over the grass, a tangled blur of fur, only to startle yet another unfortunate pair of peasants lounging in the shade of a haystack.

“Don’t do that again, you hear me?” I huffed, giving his neck a playful bite before resting my head on his shoulder. “What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?” I sighed, turning to look into his eyes.

Lynx rolled his own and gave me a gentle shove with his shoulder, clearly embarrassed by the affection.

“Catch me if you can!” he suddenly challenged, springing to his feet and bolting away.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

And just like that, the tension vanished.

We ran. We played. For hours, we chased each other through the fields, darting between trees, pouncing and dodging, switching between cat and mouse, hunter and prey.

I never could have imagined something so simple—so instinctual—could be this much fun.

And then, the crowning moment—the hunt: it was exhilarating.

To move unseen, to slip between the grass and the shadows, watching the prey graze, stupidly and innocently unaware. To see them lift their heads now and then, ears twitching, eyes scanning the surroundings—yet never spotting me prowling just beyond their senses. It sent a rush through my veins, an intoxicating mix of instincts I never knew I had, releasing strange and wild hormones into my blood.

But the real thrill? The moment of the chase.

That split second when I leapt—when they saw me—when their blissful ignorance shattered into raw terror. It was disturbing, and yet, strangely gratifying. A clash of emotions warring inside me—horror on one side, exhilaration on the other.

And then—the climax. My jaws closing around the deer’s neck, the pulse of life beating against my teeth, the sharp tang of blood filling my mouth. It sent a shudder through me, a sensation so intense it built into a crescendo I never could have imagined.

Later, as we lay stretched in the grass, chewing lazily on the spoils of our hunt, a deep sense of peace settled over me.

A stillness. A belonging. A gratitude I hadn't felt in ages.

By the time we returned from the river, the sky had deepened into dusk, shadows stretching long over the landscape.

Just before reaching the camp, I shifted back into my human form, mounting Lynx so I could ride in as though nothing unusual had happened.

“My lady, how was the hunting party?” Ju asked, looking up from where she sat, surrounded by Alice’s children, deep in the middle of one of her stories.

“Truly rewarding,” I answered with a satisfied stretch—though my expression twisted into a grimace as the headache began creeping back in.

As the camp settled for the night, a quiet hum of settling bodies and crackling fires filled the air.

I prepared my own spot to sleep. Pulling a mat from my inventory, I laid out my sleeping bag near Ju, close enough to eavesdrop on her tales.

Her voice wove through the night, painting the story’s final strokes—about a hero who, in the end, transformed into a constellation. She lifted her hand to the sky, pointing out the stars that formed his shape, guiding the children’s curious eyes to the patterns above.

She lingered there, shifting seamlessly into an explanation of stars and constellations, her soft and melodic voice carrying on for another twenty minutes or so.

The sky stretched above us, a breathtaking canopy of stars scattered across the vast darkness. It was a different sky, true, but since I had never been well-versed in the constellations of my own world, the change didn’t make much difference to me. What truly mattered was the sheer number of stars I could see.

Back home, city lights smother the night, drowning out all but the brightest specks. But here—here, the heavens were ablaze with stars and galaxies, their strange, mesmerizing patterns etched across the darkness. It was humbling. It wasn’t just beautiful; it was something deeper, something that touched the soul. Standing beneath that endless expanse, you couldn’t help but feel it—a profound sense that the world is so much more than the sliver of land beneath your feet.

As the children drifted off to sleep and I teetered on the edge of dreams, I felt Ju nudge me gently from the side.

“Make some room,” she whispered, slipping in beside me.

Wrapped in her soothing warmth, I surrendered instantly to sleep.

The next moment—or at least what felt like the next moment—I heard Sid’s shrill voice cutting through my dreams.

“Mom, mom!”

I cracked open one eye to see the dark sky stretched above me. Though the eastern horizon had begun to blush with the first light of dawn, it was still early.

So… not exactly the next moment. More like hours later.

I groaned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “What is it? Did something happen?” I asked, sitting up and glancing around in search of him.

“It’s morning, Mom!” Sid announced, far too cheerfully.

I sighed. So much for sleeping in.

My shoulders slumped in despair.

“It’s still dark, Sid. Go back to bed,” I groaned, letting myself fall back beside Ju. How did we even both fit inside my sleeping bag?

Sid, of course, was completely unimpressed by my argument.

“Mom! You promised you’d make me an inventory! It’s already morning!”

Did I? Ugh. Yeah, I did say something about that. I took a deep breath, rubbing my face.

“Where are you?” I muttered.

“By the wyvern!” he replied eagerly.

I sighed, accepting my fate, and pushed myself up. Grabbing a blanket, I wrapped it around my shoulders as Ju let out a sleepy moan of protest, shifting to her other side.

“I’m coming,” I murmured.

The camp was still asleep, undisturbed by my quiet steps. As I walked through in my pajamas, blanket draped around me like some wandering ghost, the sentinels acknowledged me with silent nods.

Just another normal morning…

“Why do you need the inventory?” I asked as I found him by the giant wyvern, happily chewing away.

“To put the rest inside, Mom! It’s a pity to let it spoil.”

Oh, right. He had mentioned that already.

I sighed and sat down on a log. “Alright, put your paw here.”

Sid eagerly placed his massive paw beside me, and I focused on the spell. It took about five minutes to complete, and by the time I was done, I was sweating slightly—but it was worth it. Surprisingly, the process had gone smoother than when I first cast it for myself.

As soon as the spell settled into place, Sid’s face lit up with excitement.

“Cool! Thanks, Mom! You’re the best!”

I smirked, shaking my head as he continued, “Once I finish eating, I’ll take the wyvern with me and go check if there are any more raiders!”

“That would be a good idea,” I said with a yawn, stretching lazily. “Let me know if you see anything.”

“Sure, Mom!”

I trudged back toward my sleeping spot, already looking forward to sinking into my bedroll again. Just as I arrived, the sharp blare of the trumpet shattered the quiet for the morning call.

I froze.

Oh, drats.

So much for going back to sleep.

I left the noisy camp together with Lynx, slipping away from the commotion for another round in the forest. We hunted again—just enough for a hearty breakfast—then bathed in the river before curling up in the sun for several blissful hours of sleep.

By the time noon approached, we made our way, heading toward Drackar’s column as they neared the castle.

I waved as I rode Lynx toward them, catching Drackar’s and Ju’s attention and they veered toward me.

As we greeted each other, Ju’s eyes locked onto something ahead.

“Is that the shield you were talking about?” she asked, pointing at the castle.

I raised a brow. The shield? Hadn’t Drackar said the barrier was supposed to be invisible? Frowning, I turned to look—and gasped.

A translucent, greenish shield shimmered above the castle, floating like a massive soap bubble. It reminded me of those delicate glass-domed castles people shook to make it snow inside.

I snapped my head toward Drackar. His expression had shifted—concern darkening his features as he glanced at me.

What the hell was happening?

Before I could voice the question, Ju leaned in close.

“You still have blood on your face,” she whispered.