The next morning, Ingrid still found herself reeling from the excitement of the previous night. She had never seen a deity up close. Nidur, the only god she'd ever met, kept his distance from his mortal followers. His servants did his bidding, and rarely spoke directly to the commoners. Seeing Ebonheim's natural beauty and warmth among the villagers the previous night was unlike anything she'd ever imagined.

Ingrid ambled along the dirt path toward the feast hall. A pleasant breeze caressed her skin as the sunlight warmed her face. Birds chirped happily, welcoming the sunrise. There was a renewed spring in her step, and her spirits lifted as she neared the hall.

The inside of the feast hall was dim, save for a few rays of sunlight peeking through the shuttered windows. The long, empty tables and benches gave the hall a cavernous feel, which was accentuated by the lingering aroma of smoke from the night before.

Ingrid scanned the room for familiar faces and quickly spotted Olav and a few others sitting at the far end of one of the tables. She picked her way through the empty space, her footsteps echoing with every step. The other inhabitants of the hall paid no mind to her arrival.

Upon reaching the table, she cleared her throat to make her presence known. The group immediately halted their conversation, turning to face her with eager smiles on their faces.

"Ah, Ingrid! I trust you slept well, lass?" Bjorn boomed, his voice carrying easily across the room. "You must have been exhausted after last night's festivities."

Ingrid chuckled and pulled out a chair, seating herself. "I did, indeed. I don't know how many cups I had, but my head hurt a little when I woke."

The others laughed heartily. "We all suffered through that," Thorsten chimed in, offering her a sympathetic smile. "I tried to pace myself, but the mead flowed more freely than I expected."

Olav sat hunched over a plate of roasted chicken. The old man nibbled at a small chunk of meat, his cheeks bulging slightly as he chewed. He swallowed his bite before speaking, "My old bones aren't used to traveling anymore, and that long trek to Ebonheim wasn't kind to me. I could use a day or two of rest, and I'm sure the others in the caravan do as well."

Ingrid nodded, glancing around the table. A few others were missing. "Where are the others? Are they all sleeping in?"

"A few are already hard at work helping to get the new settlement ready for us, and others are resting or checking the area for hunting." Olav answered, scooping a spoonful of beans into his mouth.

"Did you eat yet, lass? Grab a plate, and fill a mug. You'll need a proper meal."

"Thank you. I'm starving, but I also want to discuss plans with the village elders, if I can. Where are they?" Ingrid grabbed a metal tray, followed by a wooden cup and a bowl. She walked to a counter where she placed a slice of bread and a handful of beans on the tray, pouring herself a glass of water from a pitcher.

Bjorn nodded. "They're probably at the village square. Roderick and the others have been hard at work organizing the new arrivals since before dawn, and Ebonheim is speaking to them. If you go there, I'm sure you can find one or two you can talk with."

"Alright, then." Ingrid finished filling her mug, and returned to sit with the group. She ate her food eagerly, enjoying the companionship.

After finishing her meal, she turned her attention back to Olav. The old shaman still sat hunched over his food. She studied him for a moment, noting that he'd been unusually quiet. "Olav, what did you think of last night? Did you get a chance to speak with Ebonheim?"

"I did, lass," Olav replied between bites. "I spoke with her at length."

"So...what did you sense in her?" Ingrid pressed, leaning in to stare intently at the shaman. "What's your impression of her?"

Olav's white eyes focused on nothing in particular. He set his spoon down and sat back, placing his hands in his lap. His wrinkled, weathered face softened, and his gaze drifted upward in thought.

"I sensed compassion and kindness in her spirit, along with strength and determination. However, I also sense deep-seated fears and insecurities. Yet, there's something more...something I can't quite put my finger on..." The old man trailed off, lost in contemplation.

"Do you believe she can truly protect the village and its people, Olav?" Ingrid's question came abruptly, catching everyone at the table off guard.

Bjorn raised an eyebrow at the sudden turn of conversation. "Well, that's a loaded question. What makes you think she can't?"

Ingrid fidgeted in her seat, unsure how to answer. She had found herself enamored by the goddess' appearance. She was nothing like the gods of the West, who were fearsome and imposing beings, their visages more often than not terrifying to behold. Here was a deity who, for once, seemed to possess a modicum of understanding of what it meant to be human.

But compared to Nidur, who exuded a palpable sense of power and authority, she couldn't help but wonder if Ebonheim was strong enough to stand against Nidur's divine will, should he choose to unleash it upon the village.

"I've been pondering these thoughts for the last few days," Ingrid confessed. "What if Nidur comes seeking retribution for our exile? Our old god has never shown mercy to his enemies. He is prideful and arrogant, and he will not let such an insult pass without punishing us."

The room fell silent. All eyes were on her.

Olav turned to face her. Though blind, the old man seemed to lock his gaze onto hers. "Do not underestimate a god who walks alongside you as an equal, lass. Ebonheim's resemblance to us does not only pertain to her outward appearance. What makes us human may also define her."

"How do you mean, Olav?" Ingrid asked, puzzled.

The old man sighed and scratched the top of his bald head. "In due time, you'll realize the answer for yourself. It's how it's always been whenever you ask a question and wait long enough."

Ingrid frowned, frustrated with his lack of specificity. But he was right. It has always been like this whenever she sought his wisdom. She couldn't force a revelation to occur. It would happen when the time was right, and not a moment sooner.

"I understand, Olav," Ingrid replied, a hint of resignation in her voice. "I shall not trouble you any further with this."

"Thank you," Olav gave her a grateful nod, resuming his meal.

"We should finish our food and join the others in the village," Bjorn interjected. "I'm certain you're all eager to learn about this place, and to get started on settling in."

Thorsten raised a hand to his stomach, his eyes narrowing as he released a loud belch. He smirked playfully, glancing at the others. "Aye, let's finish our meals, then."

----------------------------------------

Near the outskirts of the village, Lorne led a squad of his mercenaries as they inspected the perimeter of the settlement. They'd made a cursory survey the night before, but they needed a more thorough investigation of the terrain. He also wanted to study the fortifications of the village. The place seemed poorly defended, and he was worried how defensible the village would be should a serious assault occur.

The company made their way along the trail leading to the woods outside the village. The air was crisp, and the smell of pine mixed with the earthy scent of damp soil and moss. The sound of birds chirping and insects buzzing filled the air, and the occasional gust of wind rustled the treetops.

"It's peaceful, isn't it?" Urien remarked, as they walked through a cluster of ferns. "To think we left behind city walls and crowds for this, eh, Commander?"

"Peaceful, but a bit lonely, if you ask me." Deneve glanced around the forest, a hint of boredom in her tone. "Give me a city with its bustle and its crowds any day."

Urien grunted in response.

"If you miss city life so badly, how about you return to Dulgaan," Lorne suggested, flashing a playful grin. "I'm certain you'll find a place for yourself there, given your charm and your impressive assets. Just don't come running back to us once the novelty of it wears off, because you'll be sorely disappointed to find the barracks here are far better."

"Ooh, Commander, are you saying you fancy me?" Deneve teased, feigning an expression of shock. "Such words from you are a rarity. Perhaps you've finally grown tired of staring at Kaela's ass? Do I need to fight her for your attention?"

Kaela casually flicked a throwing knife at Deneve. The blade embedded itself into a tree trunk a few inches from her head. "Stuff it, Deneve. Keep talking, and the next blade won't miss, and I'll remove your tongue for good measure. That should solve the problem, wouldn't you say, Commander?"

Deneve yanked the dagger out and tossed the weapon back at Kaela's feet. "If the Commander wants me, I'll gladly let him have me anytime."

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Kaela glared at the woman.

Lorne chose to ignore their banter, instead focusing on the task at hand. Though he was partly at fault for starting the teasing, he didn't intend to escalate matters any further. He signaled for silence with a stern glare at the two women. "Focus, you lot. Stop fooling around and keep your eyes and ears open. If this place is going to become a permanent base, we need to familiarize ourselves with the terrain."

Deneve gave a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

Lorne rolled his eyes at her flippant attitude and motioned for them to continue their patrol. They fanned out in pairs, securing the immediate area around the perimeter. He watched as the others disappeared into the foliage, blending into their surroundings. Once satisfied, he resumed walking with Kaela by his side.

The forest around them was calm, the silence broken only by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. The air was fresh and invigorating, a sharp contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the city.

Lorne took a deep breath, savoring the fragrance of nature. This is nice. Being away from the stench of the streets and the noise of the people and carts, all the petty squabbling and violence, the politics, and the endless cycle of corruption. He relished this simple pleasure, the ability to breathe and be alone with his thoughts.

"Enjoying the moment, Commander?"

Kaela's voice broke through his musings, bringing him back to the present.

He glanced at her and nodded, allowing a slight smile to slip from his lips. "You could say that. I can't deny that this place is appealing to me. It's secluded, but it offers many possibilities, even if the terrain is somewhat restrictive. It could be a good place for us to lay roots and call home, for a while."

"I agree with you," Kaela said. "But do you think the locals can hold their own if something happens? There didn't seem to be that many guards stationed around the perimeter. It's not very defensible if someone chooses to launch an attack, unless the goddess Ebonheim is much more powerful than she looks."

"You weren't impressed with her display of power?"

Kaela shrugged. She traced her fingers across the bark of a nearby tree, examining a patch of fungi growing on its surface. "She's beautiful, certainly, but I can't gauge her strength. For all I know, her power could be an illusion, a trick to convince us she's worthy of our loyalty."

"Isn't that true with all gods though? The gods aren't like us. We don't fully understand their capabilities or limitations. Their power is not bound by mortal rules." Lorne pointed out.

"Fair point, Commander, but she's the first I've seen that is so...so...mortal, to be frank. I can't believe the gods could be like that, with that form, and that personality. It seems unreal, don't you think?"

Lorne remained silent as they continued walking through the undergrowth. Kaela had a point. Despite his initial reaction, Ebonheim did strike him as peculiar. He found himself torn between the awe he'd initially experienced the previous night, and the doubts that now gnawed at him.

"I admit I'm having a similar crisis of faith," he conceded. "The locals seem to genuinely love her, and she appears to have the best of intentions. However, I'm not inclined to rush to judgment, and I won't dismiss my wariness so easily. But for the moment, I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt until I see signs otherwise."

Kaela shot him a sidelong glance. "Even so, we should be cautious. If she is genuine, we're fortunate to have a god who treats her followers as equals. If she doesn't, we'll have a real mess on our hands. I just don't want us to end up in the same situation as before."

Lorne scowled, his mood darkening with her mention of their past betrayal. Syntris, the god of Nir'Vash, had employed the Silverguard for years. When their usefulness ran its course, he discarded them without a second thought, leaving them to die in the aftermath of a siege just because they weren't his worshippers.

He clenched his jaw, suppressing the wave of anger that washed over him. "Trust me. I haven't forgotten, and I won't. Nor will the rest of the men, for that matter. The scars still run deep. But Ebonheim is not Syntris. Not yet. We can't assume anything about her character or motives."

Kaela held up a hand in a placating gesture. "I understand, Commander. Let's enjoy the peace and the beauty of this place while we can. We'll worry about the rest later."

They continued their patrol in silence, neither one wishing to pursue the topic any further. Their footfalls were quiet against the ground, the crunching of dried leaves and twigs accompanying each step.

Eventually, they met back up with Deneve and Urien, who were waiting for them at the edge of a clearing. The ground was covered in lush grass, dotted with clusters of wildflowers of various colors. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves overhead, casting a greenish-blue hue on the surroundings.

A stream flowed lazily through the middle of the glade, its banks lined with stones and pebbles. The gurgling of the water combined with the gentle breeze created a soothing atmosphere. It reminded him of a place from his youth. His parents had brought him to a mountain glen in the wilderness. The memory was distant, but the image was still clear in his mind.

Lorne stopped and crouched beside the bank of the stream. He cupped his hands in the water, lifting them to his lips and taking a sip. The cold liquid trickled down his throat, refreshing his parched mouth. He leaned down, dipping his entire face into the stream, reveling in the sensation.

His soldiers took this opportunity to stop for a brief rest, sprawling across the grass and stretching their legs. They chatted idly among themselves, enjoying the tranquility.

Lorne was tempted to lay on his back and look up at the sky, but he resisted the urge. They still had work to do.

He heard a faint voice further down the stream where a slight bend concealed a continuation of the riverbank. It sounded feminine, and was punctuated by a splash of water.

Lorne's curiosity piqued. He gestured for the others to follow him and approached the source of the commotion.

As they rounded the corner, Lorne's eyes widened at the sight of a young woman in the water, her bare back turned to them. Her long, crimson hair was wet and clung to her skin, revealing the delicate curve of her shoulders. She stood knee-deep in the water, her hands moving in slow, hypnotic motions as she scrubbed at her arms.

As Lorne's gaze traveled lower, he caught a glimpse of her hips and the firm, round muscles of her thigh. A feline tail protruded above her rear, swaying lazily back and forth like a pendulum. The tip was covered in soft red fur, contrasting with her pale flesh.

A Leonine Beastkin?

The woman turned, and her ruby-colored eyes met his, wide and startled. She stepped back, a tinge of crimson flushing her cheeks, and lifted her arm to cover her chest.

Lorne's face plunged back into the water as Kaela and Deneve shoved his head below the surface. They pinned his arms, preventing him from doing anything more than wriggling uselessly in their grasp.

"Commander, it's not polite to ogle at a woman bathing," Kaela whispered into his ear.

He felt her nails on the back of his head, gripping his hair firmly as she pushed harder, keeping his face submerged. "This is a public area, you know? And we have manners, right?"

The water muffled Deneve's voice as she spoke. "Look, the poor lass is terrified. The least we can do is act like gentlemen, and pretend we didn't see her naked."

"Let's make a good impression on the locals, eh?" Urien added, smirking. "She's a beauty, that one. I wouldn't mind making her acquaintance, if you know what I mean."

Lorne finally broke free, gasping as he emerged from the water, spluttering and coughing. Kaela and Deneve shot him indignant glares. He spat out the residual water from his mouth and wiped his face. "What in the Abyss did you do that for?!"

"Apologize, you moron." Kaela snapped, her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. "Now, before she runs off, and we lose our chance to make amends."

Lorne sighed, nodding. He rose to his feet, straightening his armor as he turned to face the Beastkin woman. "Miss, I'm terribly sorry for my behavior. We did not mean to intrude."

The lioness opened her mouth to say something, but then sighed and shook her head. She seemed resigned to their intrusion, though she didn't appear upset by the disruption. She finished rinsing the soap suds from her body and waded to shore, her tail swishing behind her, giving the mercenaries a clear view of her lithe, shapely figure. The sunlight reflected off the droplets of water clinging to her supple body, highlighting every muscle and curve.

Deneve whistled. "Damn, those are some nice hips."

Lorne facepalmed.

The woman ignored them as she dried herself with a towel. She draped the cloth around her waist and gathered her belongings, pausing briefly to glance in Lorne's direction.

"You're the ones that arrived yesterday?" she called out, her eyes darting between them, studying each member of the group.

"Indeed, we are," Lorne answered, smiling politely. "We are the Silverguards. I am Commander Lorne Miradan. These are my subordinates: Kaela, Deneve, and Urien. Who might you be, my lady?"

The woman arched an eyebrow at the title. "Tch, 'my lady'? My name is Serrandyl, daughter of the Pridelord and a warrior of the Aslankoyash tribe. And don't call me 'my lady', human. It's Serrandyl. Got it?"

Her assertive tone earned a few chuckles from the mercenaries. Lorne recognized a hint of a growl in her voice as she emphasized her words with a faint, yet unmistakable, threat.

"Fair enough, Serrandyl. Again, my apologies for our intrusion. We were merely patrolling the grounds surrounding the village." Lorne said, trying to salvage the situation.

Serrandyl shrugged. "Patrolling, huh? Fine, but the village is safe. Nothing gets past our defenses." She flashed a fang-toothed grin, her crimson eyes glowing with pride. "The Aslankoyash can handle any threats, but if you insist on proving yourselves useful, come to the training grounds on the east side of the village. You can train with our warriors."

Lorne crossed his arms and pursed his lips as he considered the offer. "Training with a tribe of leonines? Hmm, interesting proposal, and a generous one, at that. The Silverguards are no strangers to a good sparring match."

"If you dare, be there tomorrow afternoon," Serrandyl said, the corners of her lips curling upward as her cat-like pupils constricted. "Otherwise, I'll assume you're scared, and the Aslankoyash don't suffer cowards."

"Tomorrow afternoon it is," Lorne declared, undeterred by her provocation. "We'll meet you at the training grounds and show you what the Silverguards are made of."

Serrandyl nodded, seemingly satisfied by his response. "Good. We'll see you then, humans."

With that, she turned and sauntered off, her tail swaying hypnotically with every step.

Lorne watched as she disappeared into the trees, his gaze lingering until he was sure she was gone. The entire encounter was bizarre, to say the least. Yet, despite the awkwardness of the encounter, he couldn't deny that he was intrigued by the lioness' boldness and confidence.

A sharp prick on his chin snapped him back to reality. Lorne flinched and glanced down to discover Kaela's blade hovering dangerously close to his neck. "Oy, keep your eyes above the shoulders, Commander. Your fixation on her backside could cost you your balls later on."

"Yes, yes. Now, sheathe that damn thing, Shadowhawk," Lorne muttered, exasperated. He slapped her blade aside and stepped away, turning to leave. "Let's be on our way. We have a schedule to keep."

His subordinates nodded. The group turned to head back the way they came, but Lorne lingered a few moments longer. He stared at the spot where Serrandyl vanished, a thoughtful expression crossing his features.

Leonine Beastkin weren't native to this region, they were more commonly found south, in the wildlands beyond the frontier towns. Why was a tribe of them living here, in the Eldergrove of all places?

He filed that information away as a question to ask the goddess herself and continued to follow the rest of the company.