-=- Three Weeks Later -=-

In those three weeks, Trillia remembered to check through the rest of her notifications and skill level ups.

General Skill: [Basic Mana Regeneration] Level 1 -> Level 3

General Skill: [Rapier Mastery] Level 2 -> Level 3

General Skill: [Basic Universal Mana Manipulation] Level 1 -> Level 3

General Skill: [Basic Scan] Level 6 -> Level 8

General Skill: [Basic Herbalism] Level 0 Obtained!

General Skill: [Basic Herbalism] Level 0 -> Level 1

It took a week for Trillia to be able to speak and hear again. It took another two weeks - even with healing and potions - to be able to stand and move around somewhat normally. Lurog had come in to heal her one day and explained that it was safer to heal over time, as using magic or potions to rapidly mend severe internal injuries could lead to a status effect called [Healing Sickness] basically something that came about from drinking too many alchemical healing potions.

Depending on the source of mana, healing magic was an option. But it could still lead to sickness. More so if the mana used to power the healing spells was not the same as the recipient's mana manipulation capabilities. All of this led to Trillia thinking she really wanted to pick up some powerful internal healing magics of her own. Apparently, while [Restorative Chant] would fill your health and stop you from dying or bleeding out. It did almost nothing for the pain from the wounds and didn't always mend the flesh back together properly.

Amara had asked - through Amelia - if Trillia wanted to see or speak to her or Varga. Trillia had declined every time during her recovery. Amelia also informed Trillia, that she had been unconscious for nearly a month after the battle. Now, nearing the two-month mark since her first real encounter, Trillia stepped outside.

The sun seemed blinding after so long in the tent. Trillia moved slowly, not wanting to tear anything or bring back any pain. Truth be told, she also just wasn't in a rush to get anywhere. Today's epic quest was to get from her bed to the cooking fire outside. Then, maybe if she was feeling extra adventurous, she'd go to the wash basin inside, instead of using just a wet cloth to clean herself.

She stepped fully out and slowly made her way to the campfire, a massive ten feet away. Cheers erupted from the adults who were in the area. The sudden sound startled Trillia. Part of her mind was thrown back into the fight by the shock. Her brain worked overtime to calm itself down. To remind her she was in camp and that she was safe. Trillia put on a little smile for the cheers. Wanting to be polite. To seem strong and brave.

Amelia followed close behind, making sure she didn't fall. The two sat in front of the cooking fire. The sun was a couple hours from setting. Dinner was being prepared. The smell of the herbs and fresh meat made Trillia's stomach rumble. A comfortable familiar feeling settled over her. A few of the older veteran warriors of their tribe approached her. Putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering words of encouragement. Letting her know that the panic and the nightmares didn't last long.

Many people congratulated her as they walked by. Trillia had passed the first real test of being an orc. Part of her was full of pride. It seemed like everyone saw her in a different light. No longer was she the [Runt] that needed to be protected or pampered. Now she was a young warrior in training. Now she was a real orc. Trillia and Amelia ate slowly. As the food hit her stomach, Trillia felt a lot more alive. A lot more energetic.

"Will you help me find mother and father?"

Amelia nodded. Both of them knew that was going to be a hard first encounter. Amelia spoke softly.

"She's been crying a lot, you know. I've been eavesdropping when I'm near. Father says it's common in orc tribes. For the mothers to be so terrified after the first encounter. On the cusp of losing their child to a misstep."

The two ate in silence. A few minutes later Amelia spoke once more.

"I'm just saying Trillia. Don't be to angry with her....don't say anything you might regret, if you aren't given the time to take it back."

Trillia paused eating now. Looking at her friend. Trillia felt as if there was more to that statement, but she couldn't piece it together. Once they had finished, Trillia washed their plates. Mostly wanting to push some mana through her body after the recovery. Filling the basin with water and heating it with another rune.

The two slowly made their way through the camp. Most orcs who passed gave Trillia a big smile and a nod, others patted her head gently, telling her she had done a good job. Finally, they arrived at the tent her parents called their own. Trillia hadn't recognized the part of camp she had woken in. Amelia knocked on one of the poles bracing the tent.

Within seconds Varga's head popped out, his voice preceding it.

"Is something wrong with Tril-"

His voice caught as he saw his daughter standing there. Slowly he stepped fully out, kneeling in front of Trillia. There was no crushing hug, no tears. But an understanding. An understanding that only orcs could truly appreciate. Varga spoke calmly.

"I'm glad you're doing better, Trillia. You are free to talk to us when you're ready to have that conversation. If you don't think you can manage it today I.... no, we will underst-"

Once more, he was cut off as Trillia's arms wrapped around his neck. Trillia found herself crying yet again. This time there wasn't any shame in it though. Her mother had told her most warriors had a good cry after the fact, and while this might be Trillia's third or fourth after the battle. It was also the first time she had felt truly safe. She knew her father wouldn't let anything happen to her.

Amelia gave her shoulder a little squeeze before giving them time alone. After a few long, warm minutes. Trillia pulled away. Varga smiled at her.

"Do you want to see her? She's been worried sick about you."

Trillia looked past him, towards the flap of the tent. She was scared. Scared she'd never trust her mother again. Scared she wouldn't feel safe in her mother's arms. She was scared that anytime she saw her mother, she'd see the same stoic uncaring face she had during the battle. Trillia's little hands trembled on her father's shoulders. More tears welled up in her eyes.

She wanted to be brave. Wanted to be strong. She managed a weak little nod. Varga stood and took her hand, leading her to the tent and pulling aside the tent flap. Amara was there, in the center of the tent, kneeling. Trillia could easily see that her mother had been crying, and could see the anxiety in her form. Her mother was always so strong. So sure of every move that she made. To see Amara so shaken, scared Trillia. As she looked at her mother, the battle flashed in her mind. The stoic uncaring Chieftain was before her, the giant creature loomed behind her, threatening to tear her and Amelia apart again.

Trillia closed her eyes and felt warm liquid running down her leg. She did the only thing that made sense to her in that moment. She fled. She ran as fast as her feet could take her. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest with its heaving. She ignored the people calling out to her, ignored the choked-off sob from her mother as she began her flight. Trillia didn't stop until she was in the tent that she had been healing in. Grabbing some furs and curling up in the corner.

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It took her hours to calm down. Trillia kept her eyes open, focusing on the fire. Whenever she closed them, all she could see was the [Megapede] and Amelia's torn and battered form.

Slowly she rocked herself back and forth. As the tent flap opened, she froze. Her mind and body telling her to flee, to run and find safety and shelter. Amelia's smooth voice cut through the tension and anxiety.

"Be at peace, find rest. [Peaceful Slumber]"

Trillia's eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. All of the tension and panic escaped her body. Her old friend darkness came calling, this time she had no choice but to answer.

-=- Several Hours Later -=-

Trillia shot up in her bed. The imagery of her being eaten and torn apart while still alive and screaming because of her new skill rapidly fled her mind. The nightmare had broken through the remnants of Amelia's spell. Trillia was covered in sweat, looking around to find the tent empty. It was dark outside now. Trillia didn't feel safe.

She wrapped one of the furs around her shoulders, slipping out of the tent. The camp was much quieter at night. A few hushed conversations here and there. Trillia knew where she wanted to go, her feet silently padding along toward a tent she used to play in quite a lot before the minotaurs had come.

Trillia slipped inside, making her way to the body covered in furs. That was odd, there were two bodies now. Still, Trillia put a small hand on a shoulder gently pushing.

"Tormash."

"Tormash. Please wake up."

Speaking softly so as not to wake the other person. Slowly her brother rolled over to look at her. Deep green eyes peered at her. Tormash was her favorite brother, he didn't pick on her for being a runt as Ralrouk did. Trillia could see the other person stir next to him. A soft feminine voice cut the silence in the air.

"Is that you, little Trillia?"

Trillia recognized the voice. It was from a female Shaman. A rather powerful one, from what the warriors had said. Tormash blinked a few times before sitting up and staring down at Trillia. Her brothers had gotten the height from both parents. Tormash was only nineteen. He'd grow for a few more years, and already he was nearing eight feet. Trillia thought that he might get taller than many of the minotaurs that had come to camp with them.

"Having a hard time, after your first fight?"

Tormash's deep, gravelly voice soothed her. He was very popular in the tribe. Not only was he an incredible warrior, but his edge was only apparent on the battlefield. When he was at home, at rest. He went out of his way to help others, to teach more inexperienced warriors. Before she had grown so close to Amelia, Trillia had often spent her days trying to track down Tormash. Which was rather difficult. Since he wasn't in the camp often.

Trillia nodded at his words, speaking softly.

"Sorry to bother you. I just...I didn't feel safe."

Large, dark blue arms wrapped around her. Easily lifting her and placing her on a knee. A mighty yawn escaped Tormash.

"That's ok. I had nightmares for a week after my first kill. Ba'Shoon, will you help her clean up? I'll get some food started."

The female next to him nodded. Offering Trillia a warm smile. The woman stood, furs fell to reveal a very curvaceous teal-skinned orc. But she didn't seem small like many Shamans did. No, Ba'Shoon was easily seven feet. Her body was composed of the same chiseled muscle that Amara had. Hands came down and scooped under Trillia's arms.

"Ready little one? Let's get you washed up. Then we can talk about it, ok?"

Trillia then remembered she had wet herself, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, offering a nod. The woman lifted her easily, carrying her to the side of a rather spacious tent. Setting her down into a large wash basin that was rapidly filling with water. Twenty minutes or so later, Trillia was nice and clean. Ba'Shoon helped her dry off and wrapped a fur around her. Letting her out of the basin, the woman used the remaining water to begin washing Trillia's soiled clothes.

The smell of stew filled the tent. Ba'Shoon's voice pulled Trillia's attention away from the food.

"So, I'd heard you returned. What did you fight, for your first battle?"

Trillia was quickly warming up to the woman. There was no judgment, only a genuine curiosity. Trillia also saw the way Tormash looked at the woman. It was the same way her father looked at her mother.

"It was a megapede. The system said it was an infant and that it was level twenty-seven."

This had been the first time she was really talking about the fight, somehow though. Somehow she felt safe here.

"Twenty-seven? That's nearly an adult. Did it have its acid attack yet?"

Trillia nodded, kneeling next to the basin and helping clean her clothes.

"It didn't use it a lot. It mostly..."

Her voice quaked, and a shiver ran through her as she remembered the fight. Ba'Shoon wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her gently.

"Go ahead. I won't let anything happen to you."

Trillia nodded, taking a moment to steady herself.

"It mostly attacked us with its legs. It was so fast. I could barely hurt it at first. A lot of my strikes seemed to just slip off."

The shaman continued washing out the clothes. Once satisfied, she used another rune to drain the water. Motioning for Trillia to stay at her side, hanging the now wet and wrung-out clothes near the fire.

"I struggled a lot with mine. I also fought a megapede. Mine wasn't nearly as high a level as yours was though. Shamans aren't very good at solo combat."

Trillia listened to her words, sitting between Ba'Shoon and Tormash. As the latter passed her a bowl of warm soup.

"You had to fight yours all alone?"

The shaman nodded. Tormash spoke up as she did.

"Most orcs are forced to fight their first encounter alone. But most of us are also at a higher level, so it's not quite as dangerous. That said, you should be proud. I don't think I've heard of anyone in our tribe fighting such a high-level creature, as their first real encounter. Even if you weren't alone, the level difference is enough to warrant multiple people. The acid from megapedes is no joke."

Trillia sipped some of her soup. Feeling warm and safe. Listening to her brother talk, helped. Helped remind her she was in camp, she was safe. She didn't understand why she couldn't just tell her brain to forget the fight. To forget all the bad stuff. She didn't really want to remember. After a few seconds of silence, Trillia looked at Tormash.

"Why are we forced to do this?"

Tormash looked down at her, a smile on his face. Leaning over he kissed her forehead, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"Well. You got [Orc Tenacity] right?"

Trillia nodded. Tormash continued.

"Before all the tribes started to gather here, with the minotaurs. We used to roam the Shattered Plains. Mom is pretty good about keeping the peace. But tribes would sometimes still fight and attack each other. Also, when you travel through the green sea of the eastern forest. The one that separates the shattered plains from the human lands beyond. The tribe is put in danger. In both instances children are targetted first."

Trillia listened intently. She wanted to know why orc life was this way. Why children had to endure such things.

"Most of our enemies target our young. Because if all of the children are dead, the tribe will die a slow death. Seems a bit odd that we put our young in such danger. But the reason is the skill itself. For most orc children, tenacity means you have a minute or two where you cannot die. In battle, even a few seconds are precious. The practice of forcing children into impossible battles early on was to ensure they had tenacity early. Usually, you fight alone at level six or seven. After older warriors hold down bigger enemies for you to finish off to get to that level."

"The system withholds most of the experience. Due to the level difference. But because of our passives, some of the boosted experience gets through, letting children level somewhat safely up to six or seven. After that, we are forced to fight alone to get tenacity. It also usually gets us to level ten, for our class. This way if the tribe comes under attack, the children can survive any attack, as long as the entire tribe isn't wiped out. I don't think it will work as well, with the scorned debuff we have that limits our healing."

Trillia thought on what she was told for a few seconds, trying to process it all. Sipping the last of her soup. Ba'Shoon filled the silence.

"[Divinity Scorned] is a unique debuff. Even healing through tenacity with its debuff, I've never felt my healing be so weak and ineffective as it has been with this new debuff. That's also why it took you so long to heal. Normally one or two potions of regeneration would be enough. But with the debuff, the amount of potion we'd have to give you would surely poison you."

"Small wounds and cuts have been fairly easy to heal. But serious wounds have needed time to heal naturally, in addition to healing magics. Couple that with the fact no one else in the tribe has Universal manipulation. To put it simply, the only reason we weren't more worried, is because of Chieftain Amara's skill."

Trillia perked up at that, tilting her head in confusion.

"What skill does mom have?"

Tormash gave a heavy sigh.

"Tell you what, little one, why don't you sleep here tonight. In the morning, you can help me with breakfast, and I can answer all those questions and more, ok?"

Trillia nodded, realizing she had woken them up from a peaceful slumber. It didn't take long to clean up from their midnight snack. Soon she found herself sleeping in a little pile of her own furs near the fire, her brother and the shaman woman back in bed snoring away. Trillia settled into sleep, feeling a little less apprehensive.