A cold night it was, despite the summer season. No owls nor crickets to disturb the evening rest of the band of ragtag strugglers. The secluded forest they called their fleeting home was at last freed from the relentless terror of the meterases – for they, too, required slumber.

The bonfire they had lit burned dimly at the mercy of the night’s gale – brightened just enough for the band to be warmed in its grace and dimmed enough not to disturb the other tenants of the woods. If a light was all they needed, then the dazzling moonlight and pearly stars shining above their heads were more than enough to light their breezy night.

Humming away into the night alongside the melodic rustles of the fluttering leaves and branches was pleasing – but also boring. The feeble flame thawed their frozen bodies bereft of layered garments, the logs of wood cushioned their sore rears, and the pints of ale drove them to blissful stupor. Amongst the band of brutish woodland dwellers who dreamed of liberation, clash, and merriment – one mere soul, the runt of the litter, delighted in the dullness of tranquillity.

“Beautiful eyes. Like I heard from my brother before.” A man, the tallness of a great tree and the muscles of a mountain, drunkenly attempted his chance at flirting – his darkened skin and darker eyes and smoother head all glimmered brightly in splendour when blessed upon by the rays of the moon.

Unlike the boozy gentleman, the lady’s pale fleece and locks of gold needed not the lights from the sky to bare their beauty. Yet as for her pearls of orange, whom only the drunken and blinded could adore – no miraculous light could ever make them shine in the hearts of men. “Thank you, Abe – but you ought to hit the hay soon. We all know how your brother feels about your drinking habit. Wouldn’t want to receive another earful from the good doctor,” the fairy-like lady soothed slight senses back to the inebriated flirt – unlike the rest of the crew, her delicate hands were freed of any goblets or bottles.

“No need for ya’ to crease your pretty little head over such a trifle thing, Stel,” Abe laughed as he guzzled down another pint of ale, staining his scruffy black beard with foam. He flexed his muscles, nearly ripping his leather vest off from his chest and his cargo pants from his legs. “That bore has his head buried in the books. The day he actually buckles up his belt and stands up to me is the day I die a happy brother.” The giant’s laughter grew ever brasher as if fancying himself to be the king of the woods.

“Keep it down, Abe! You trying to wake the entire forest and alert the Blacks or something?” Though the others, too, were drunk and blissed under the hazy spell of the moon and their booze – at least they still retained the sense to scold Abe’s drunken antics.

“You fools first!” Abe cackled while droplets of ale trailed down his lips and onto his bear – his cheery roar was mightier than all else’s combined. Yet the big bad wolf did not bring fright to the sheep but instead, merry delight.

As if they shared a bibulous hivemind, all cheered and danced together around the beacon, with one hand holding onto their goblets and the other onto their comrade’s shoulder – the song they chaunted, however, did not fit to be sang from their jolly tongues.

“The deary lad parted with his lady. Oh, how so sad to be free–”

Their tenors brimmed with joy for verses so forlorn – all while the tapping of their boots, the clapping from their palms, and the drumming of their fists upon the wooden logs accompanied the sorrowful ballad.

“Remember me, my love, my end – and we shall meet again…” Stelie mumbled the last verse of Twice Dearest – the song of old she so cherished and resented.

Outwardly pleased with their carol, and before they began the next one, Abe fixed his gaze upon Stelie again. “Come and join us, Stel. Why waste such lovely chords all by your lonesome?” he praised Stelie somewhat more softly than before.

“If you insist – but only if you all turn for the night after the next song ends,” as if she was a stern mother, Stelie proposed her demand to her children – though to the boos and hisses from the rowdy crowd.

“Boo! Lady Stelie is being mean to us again! Oh, how so sad!” Even in their drunken rage, they still somehow managed to rhyme it to songs.

“Lighten’ up, Stel. Ya’ not usually like this,” Abe spoke even more softly.

“Sorry, Abe. The Chief’s order.” Stelie shrugged – she was not a fan of dampening the festive spirit either, but orders were given to her.

“Alright…” As if he were an overgrown toddler, Abe kicked the dirt off the ground and pouted – though his temper tantrum did not last for long. “Ya’ heard her, lads! Better make our last song one that would rock all of Xearth!” The king of the woods, at least for the night, orated to his loyal subjects.

Might as well, I suppose, Stelie couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear when gandering at the band of idiots with their arms waving in the air and their hearts lay bare – and amongst them all, Stelie’s chaunt was the shrillest, and hands the highest.

*

“Stel... More, please…” The once mighty giant was now lying defenceless upon his wooden bed – after all, a human like him has their limit.

“I told you to simmer down on the booze,” Stelie sighed before kneeling down and handing him a leather waterskin, which she already had to refill dozens of times over for the other collapsed partyers.

Abe drank it down fiercer than he had the ale, though it did not take long for him to spew it all out once more.

“You don’t look too swell, Abe. If it’d help, I could make way over to your brother’s camp and ask him for some medicin–” asked Stelie.

“No, don’t bother…” Even when on the verge of fainting, his pride still held strong and firm as his bulging muscles.

“Alright.” Stelie nodded gently before resting a cloth that had been soaked in warm water over Abe’s forehead. “Want me to whip you up a glass of warm tea instead?”

“Yes, please…” Abe groaned, his pride did waver in that instant.

Stelie giggled faintly at the sorry sight of her close comrade before blanketing over him with a wagon tarp – for that was the only piece of cloth big enough to wholly cover the bearlike man that was Abraham Wyck. Stelie stripped off her auburn leather armour, babysitting these tots had left her drenching in sweat despite the coldness of the night. Alright, where did I put it… She stood up and walked to her hammock hung between two strangely yet sturdy birch trees. Her rucksack lay resting upon the hammock instead of her tired body. Where is it? Stelie always had to prepare several packets of tealeaves specifically for these predicaments – yet it’d seem the leaves had perhaps grown legs and fled from the confines of her bag, or at least Stelie would like to convince herself of that. For the love of Ark… With no leaves in hand, even Stelie could not conjure a miracle to brew warm cups of teas for her friends – but the sight of her comrades groaning and crawling on beds of fallen leaves left her wincing and moving her feet to a destination unknown. “Give me a sec’, guys. I’ll be right back.” Stelie announced to the crew, just softly enough not to disrupt their repose.

Stelie, armed with a torch and a dagger, ventured deeper into the hearth of the sleeping woods. Now that her armour was unequipped and only a black blouse remained – the gale’s embrace was far harsher to the touch. Her lean body shivered with each fleeting gust – but the thoughts of returning with a bundle of tea herbs cleared her head, moved her feet, and warmed her heart. Wait for me, everyone…

*

“Just what I needed!” Abe laughed aloud, the loudest he had been in the entire night. “What would we do without you, Stel?” he tapped Stelie on her back and chugged down his fifth cup of tea as if it were wine.

It took her a moment to recoup from the bearpaw battered upon her back. “No need to choke yourself with it. There’s more than enough to go around,” Stelie calmed the gentle giant as she then reached into the boiling pot over the blaze and scooped out another hot goblet of tea. Stelie couldn’t believe how lucky she was to be able to forage so many wild herbs in the dead of night – their sweet aroma and golden tint would no doubt have people from all corners of Xearth spending their arks on.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Everyone – say thank you, Stelie!” the rejuvenated king commanded his vassals once more.

“You really don’t need t–”

“Thank you, Stelie!” One by one, from young to old, all with warm cups in hands – the crew offered their gratitude to Stelie.

Stelie’s cheeks puffed up red and melted – and she was certain it was not the tea’s doing. The embarrassment nearly made her drop the boiling goblet and scald herself. Yet her blushing hardly mattered, for Stelie could not resist the scenery of pleased faces smiling from ear to ear, twirling around the bonfire with warmed hands and jolly eyes. “Anyone wants seconds?” Stelie hollered to the bunch.

“Pay no further heed to us fools. We’d be alright without ya’ hands for the rest of the night.” Abe worded calmly. He then tossed a roll of bandage over to Stelie.

What is this for? Stelie knew not its worth to her – until she glanced down at her hands which caught it.

“Ya’ need to take care of yourself first before longing for others’ sake,” Abe advised her, his tone wistful despite his wide grin.

Stelie didn’t even notice that she had received those cuts on her fingers from foraging around the forest – perhaps bearing the accursed lineage of hers had few merits after all. “Thanks.” Though no blood seeped from the tears, nor did it sting – Stelie yet gently wrapped the bandage around her thin fingers and knuckles. With her wounds tended and the folks satisfied – Stelie poured herself a goblet of liquid gold and sat on the wooden bench, admiring the sight of embers dancing together to the melodic tunes of the crackling blaze.

“How are ya’ feeling, dolly?” Abe randomly asked while sipping the golden tea. Though he was far younger than Stelie in age, he still insisted on addressing her so brusquely, merely because of her youthful shell – though Stelie wasn’t exactly against it.

“Peachy…” Stelie mumbled, sipping upon her own cup of tea – her orange eyes staring aimlessly into the flame of the same hue. “You?”

“Same old jobs – same old me. Nothing I’d love more for this streak of fortune to persist,” Abraham worded tunefully. “But who knows? Things don’t always go how they were planned…” Even a brash giant such as himself could mutter so tenderly at times.

“With muscles of yours on our side – I don’t see how we could lose to anyone,” Stelie smiled and cheered the sombre golem.

“You’re giving me far too much credit,” Abe chuckled and rubbed his bald head. “Big guys like me would be lost without folks leading behind veils.” His brown orbs gazed upon the band of merry folks – yet they seemed lost, unable to find the one they sought.

Is he talking about his… Stelie thought before giggling faintly beneath her breath – thinking about how coy he was for a man of his might.

“Something funny?” Abe asked drolly with raised brows.

Stelie shook her head – even she did not know why she found it funny.

Abe squinted his eyes at Stelie’s answer, but he released them briefly after – he has never been one to hold a grudge for long. “It’s still hard to believe that we’re actually going through with this.” He murmured. His tea had all but vanished, yet he still sipped onto the empty wooden cup.

“Same…” Stelie, too, murmured, though her cup was still half full.

“How you manage to go for a second round – is still beyond me. Ya’ heck of a gal, Stel.” Abe chortled.

“Speak for yourself,” Stelie tittered.

Abe laughed from the pit of his stomach as brazenly and grandly as ever. “Us old bones gonna’ do what we can this time around too – let’s just hope it doesn’t go tits up like before,” his laughter dwindled ever so faintly.

“Well, you know what they say – it gets easier the second time around,” Stelie tried to cheer the bear with stupid teachings that she had just made up.

“Sounds like something Callen would teach,” Abe grumbled as if the ale he drank was about to spew out again.

“You two really are unbelievable, you know? Man up and speak to each other. At this rate, your petty family squabble may even affect the mission,” Stelie lectured him like a teacher to her rascal of a pupil.

“I have nothing to say to that little runt.” Abe sulked and shook his head to the side, away from Stelie.

Handfuls – this pair of brothers are, Stelie sighed. “You’re sworn brothers, Abe. Pledged and wined under the same banner of brotherhood,” she gently tapped his broad shoulder. “But he has found his own calling and new people whom he cherishes. You can’t just go and ruin that for him – nor could you hold it against him.”

“It’s not that.” Abe sighed aloud.

Excuse me? Stelie was slightly taken aback while her cheeks faintly pinkened again.

“I care not if he wants to spend his days writing tomes and cutting up corpses. I care not if he is no longer striving to reach my might. I care not if he has a real family whom he loves. I care not for any of them. What kind of brother do you think I am?” Abe lamented.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” Stelie tripped on her own words.

“I’m not mad at him for any of those petty stuff. I’m mad that he could not commit to one thing.”

“A man with his kind of baggage has no reason to be on the field with us, yet the stubborn fool refuses to stay back home and insists on coming along.” Abe scowled. “Folks like us – we don’t have nobody waiting for us at home. But he does… and he is willing to risk it all just like that.” The giant roared, and the forest silenced – the only sound to be found was the crackles of the unyielding flame.

Stelie had no kind words nor witty rebuttals. She had lived for so long – yet there was so little that she still remembered, so little that she had felt. She gazed down at her cup of tea – her face reflected upon the golden mirror, and it looked colourless. Snap out of it! Stelie slapped her own face so strongly that it shook the spectators off their seats. With her swollen red cheeks, not out of embarrassment – Stelie doggedly faced Abe. “All of your muscles and stature are really blinding you from things right under your nose.”

“What was that?” Abe asked, his twisted face seemed to be genuinely confused.

“He has just as much a good reason and conviction to be here as any of us. His ambitions and dearests would be safe back in the Freekeep – but only he could do what is needed of him here, by our side.” Stelie refilled a new goblet of golden tea and handed it to Abe.

The words seemed to take a while for them to reach his ears, but even the giant’s cold heart would soon thaw when graced with a warm drink and a tender flame. “If the prettiest flower of our swamp were to vouch for my bro like that – then who am I to be a sourpuss about it?” Abe burst into jovial laughter – it suited him far more than brooding.

“You didn’t need to put it that way…” Stelie pouted.

“Don’t worry. I’ll speak to Callen when next we meet.” Abe promised to Stelie, not as though he needed to. “And by the looks of things, it wouldn’t be long until his crew convenes with ours. Let’s just hope that these steel beasts do their job properly when the time comes,” Abe shouted to the beasts in spite of their slumber.

“We’ll make it,” Stelie reassured him, her voice was soft yet resolute.

Abe gaped at Stelie, such kind, murky eyes would normally be impossible to find on such a scary giant. “With a sunshine such as yourself on our side – we oughta’ to,” Abe chuckled, mimicking Stelie’s own words.

Stelie felt warmed at Abe’s words, and not only his but also from everyone else – yet her shell of steel could never know the same warmth that humans so treasure. The praises showered unto her ears soon vanished with the wind. The bandage around her palms served nought but to bondage her hands. The tea of gold tasted bland and cold when it touched her tongue. The beacon's sparks eluded her frozen fleece – denying its grace to unwanted abominations.

“Hey, Stel! Is there still light in there?”

The roughed voice of Abe awoke her from her daze. “Yes? Sorry, I blanked out there,” Stelie bowed her head faintly.

“That’s why I told ya’ to go get some rest,” Abe sighed, it was his turn to be the disapproving teacher scolding his heedless student. “We are all depending on ya’, so don’t go and kick the bucket before your time to shine. Am I right, everyone?” With a wave of his arm, the king of the woods rallied his vassals once more.

“Yes, sir!” By the north of the bonfire – a bunch of still drunken dancers barked while still bobbling their merry heads and flappy feet.

“Go hit the sack, Stel! Leave the cleaning to us.” By the east of the bonfire – a group of armoured men said as they stripped off their auburn armour and arms and began to collect the empty cups and bowls littered throughout the camp.

“Please grant us the honour of fulfilling your duty on your behalf, milady.” By the south of the bonfire – a party of stout gentlemen offered their service while tipping their black fedora and caressing their neckbeards.

“Early morn tomorrow – so better wrap it up, everyone!” By the west of the bonfire – the few members of the band who had any semblance of responsibility and orderliness urged the loafers to return to their hammocks and beds.

The scenery was not anything grand – nor was it anything that any people would pay arks to see. Yet, as if a tiny thorn was pricked upon her chest – Stelie felt wild and hot thumping from within, and it only got wilder and warmer the longer she watched the unfolding sight.

“Did ya’ not hear a single word that I said, dolly? Beat it to ya’ pillow – we’ll handle the scuffle here,” Abe grinned.

“I heard you loud and clear. It’d be stranger if I didn’t hear your ear-piercing shout,” Stelie smirked.

“Atta girl,” Abe reached his fist out to Stelie. “It won’t be long before we retake what’s ours… The return of the First is nigh!” he roared for all to hear – for all to bear witness to his mettle and valour.

Stelie threw her arm back as far as she could before mightily bumping her fist into Abe’s. “The First returns!” Though her flimsy declaration paled when compared to Abe’s – it still outwardly brought slight vigour to the dazed crew and rose them from the dead.

“The First returns!” All strugglers of the band chanted, and all, without exception, unveiled their prideful banner sewn upon a cloth and waved it to the air as if it were a united flag.

Although a tad bit cheesy for her, afront for all to bear witness and be reminded of their promised duty, Stelie too unveiled her emblem and swathed the ginger cloth around her arm, embroidered with a black four-pointed star – its brand hoisted the colour of her foul eyes and fiery conviction.