Right before the first golden rays of the sun hit the sky, Darya and her small traveling counsel had grouped in their main tent. Cemnas, her second in command, was examining the map of the forest and its surroundings they had made the day they settled in it. He had small wooden carved figurines of the camp and its members set around it, trying to represent reality. Surya, the head of security was already lost in her thoughts, staring at the map, yet her eyes never settled on anything. Kurzol, the head of mental healing was also there, seething with rage at the idea that the Order had gotten so close to them. Luna stood close to Kurzol, her freshly sharpened ax attached to her back. All people present in the tent were aware of the troubling situation, and a heavy silence reigned on them.
“Salnas has become a hotspot.” declared Darya.
“We should reinforce the security around the camp.” Cemnas propped himself on the camp table where they had laid out a map of the area, his brown furred tail swinging from side to side in impatience.
“We didn’t even see them coming.” added Kurzol.
Darya looked over to Surya, observing her wife’s pensive face, awaiting an answer from her as all the other members of her close circle did in that tent.
“They probably haven’t seen us yet since that good samaritan helped the kids,” said Surya.
“Then we need to evacuate as fast as we can,” said Cemnas. The man looked around at his comrades for a few seconds. “Let’s place our ttac guards on the furthest line of the camp,” he said as he took some handmade figurines and placed them on the map. “You’re all pretty fast, and you see better than any of us in this forest once night comes. On the regular patrol, orcs and trolls, it should make up for the small numbers of ttacs."
“We need to keep some of us for the moving.” said Luna, “The humans are fine but other races won’t be. We can't have them taken by the Order.”
“Fine,” replied Surya, “How about three of you moving and the rest on guard duty?”
The orc woman nodded.
"Where do we go next?" asked Cemnas, "I only know one safe village near here but it's a few days away."
"Avondale" proposed Surya.
The others in the rooms looked at her with confusion.
"You're not serious." replied Kurzol, "they hate outsiders, they'd never accept us."
"They only hate outsiders because of the Order. And besides, we're healers, not military."
“It won’t matter to them.” replied Cemnas. “They’ve let demons die because the Emperor was after them.”
Silence covered the room for a few moments before whispers of debates filled it up.
“I entered Sheyja unharmed.” reminded Surya, “I can probably enter Avondale safely too.”
“Do we have any other place to go?”
“We could always try the sea,” said Darya. “I know someone in Salnas that could help us but there are slim chances.”
“Where would we go next?” Asked Cemnas, “Broktown? Anareh? I don’t think that person would be too keen on feeding people for months until we get back to Amara’s Embrace.”
“Anareh sounds like the safest place for most people in our care right now. The cold weather from Broktown won’t help their case.” said Luna.
“Okay,” said Surya, “Darya, you’ll go to Salnas as soon as you can and try to get that mystery person, if it fails we go to Avondale.” She ordered, “Luna, choose your best movers to prepare everything as fast as possible, and Cemnas, post your people around the camp to keep an eye out. For the rest of you, tell the patients we are moving. If they come, great, if they don’t, give them the medicine they need and we’ll prepare a wagon to bring them back home.”
All the people in the tent nodded and walked out to do their tasks. Kurzol and her group went around the tents early in the morning to bring the patients up to speed. Most wanted to stay, even the sick ones. Some, if not most, were farmers or merchants that lived off of the land around Salnas and still had a family to feed. Going to the Saoudal kingdom, or even in Avondale Forest, was much further than they would ever go in their lives. Around the camp, with their footstep muffled by their anatomy, the half dozen of ttacs present in the camp hid atop of trees to observe and wait.
“Can I enter?”
“Of course,” answered Darya.
Henry pushed the curtain of Darya’s tent aside and walked in, his notebook and pencil in hand. He had been aware of the unusual early meeting, but too late to take any notes.
“What did you want to talk about Henry?” she said, putting down the herbs she was packing up.
“I was curious about how you healed the young Milo.”
“Same as with every other patient, clean, sew, put the ointment on, bandage.” she sighed, “You’ve been with me for a year now, you should know this. It was only a deep cut, nothing too difficult.”
Henry nodded and marked it down in his notebook. Darya observed the man with more precision. He was so young, the same age she was when she left Outer-Alvoort. He had been devoted to her teachings about medicinal plants, their properties and how different preparations were applied and used on patients. He had actually drawn a myriad of wounds and injuries with a striking resemblance and helped the other students greatly with it.
“You know, Henry, sometimes I worry about you.” the man lifted his head, confused, “You're always around me and my patients, you work all the time, do you even take time to rest?”
“When I sleep,” he answered honestly.
“That’s not-” Darya let out a concerned sigh, “Go pack your belongings Henry,” she said as she took his shoulders and turned him around toward the entry of her tent, “I won’t heal anyone today anyway, take your time to pack up and prepare for our new journey, okay?”
“But-”
“Go.” Darya pushed him out of her tent.
Henry stood still for a few minutes, fully confused. He lowered his eyes to his notebook and let a genuine smile stretch his lips for the first time in a while. He walked back to his tent, his feet light at the idea of taking a break from studying.
“I pity that kid.”
“Don’t be mean Surya, he’s just a kid.”
“Still,” the woman sat up from her hammock in the far corner of the tent, putting her book away. “He has no life outside of that notebook and it’s weird.”
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Darya observed her wife. Surya was tall and had more legs than torso which Darya always found strange. Her deep brown skin made it hard to discern the tribal tattoos she had on her hands and forehead. She had tied her long wavy brown hair in a ponytail and peppered with small braids and leather decorations mimicking the ones in Darya's. She always wore pants and had her traditional green and gold top on. It stopped at her mid region and the loose and long sleeves wrapped around her long arms. Surya joined Darya to the entry of her tent, sliding her arms around the healer’s waist and taking advantage of her height to rest her chin on her blond head. Her long golden earrings dangled around Darya's head.
“I don’t mind your other students but this one never really heals. He just takes notes all the time, what is even taking notes for? A book? To feed some weird obsession he has over you?”
“What if he was obsessed with me?” Darya said as she turned around, embracing Surya back. “What would you do then?”
“Cut his dick off and stuff it in his mouth, probably.”
“See, that’s why Kurzol counsels you.”
“But what if he just isn’t nice? He’s just so weird.” Surya sighed in frustration.
“Then we’ll take care of it, together.”
Darya tip-toed to kiss Surya on the forehead and cupped her face, stroking her cheek with her thumb.
“Together."
Surya mouthed an 'okay' and kissed her wife. After a few more seconds embracing each other, Darya broke off and packed her final herbs into her traveling cabinet. All were well organized and labeled dutifully. The eastern witch tightened her gloves around her hands, put on her sash, and threw on her cloak. In a last move before walking out of the tent to go to Salnas, she turned around and kissed her wife one last time.
“Don’t let anyone annoy you on the way there and back, okay?” asked Surya.
“I won’t,” chuckled Darya, “I had an excellent teacher for that,”
“Yeah you did,” Surya chuckled back.
Darya lingered, trying to keep Surya's face in her mind for as long as possible. For countless nights she had brushed her fingers alongside her cheeks, her brows, her nose, and her lips. She had mapped her body with kisses and had kept its form in multiple embraces, and yet, something in her pleaded her to stay, and if not, to at least remember her as she was in that moment.
“I’ll be there when you come back, okay?” tried to reassure Surya.
Darya could only nod back.
“Be safe,” she added lovingly.
“I will,” answered Darya before she turned around and walked through the curtain that made up the entrance of their tent;
Darya walked through the camp, observing the trolls and the orcs packing up, the families either saying goodbye or picking up the medicine they would need for their loved ones’ treatment. This camp had been built around her before she could even realize it. She first studied for years before people came to her and she taught them. Some, like Kurzol, were better than her at healing matters of the mind, although it took much longer than ills of the flesh. The eastern witch looked upon her creation, her family, and for the first time since she married Surya, she was proud. A smile graced her face as she tore her eyes away from the camp and walked into the forest. Ever since Ravenwood, she dreaded going into any forest. Although she had somewhat gotten over the emptiness that filled her when she stepped into one, it still shook her. She could see life in it, the sun sifting through the leaves and touching the grass, its birds singing, the smell of young and dead wood floating to her nostrils, the dead leaves crackling under her feet or the grass folding underneath her, yet, she couldn’t connect to it. She could never be part of it again. She had pledged her life to protecting these sanctuaries of life, and now she could do nothing but stroll through it as an outsider. Darya averted her eyes for a moment and walked on faster to the town. She arrived there pretty quickly, her pace decided and brisk. She tried hard to ignore the still standing arch that made up the entrance to the port town and found her way easily to the port. Although people coursed through it, she searched for any type of pirate looking people. All that she had heard Leo talk about was a ship called the Kraken whose crew was entirely made of hlêgs. After a few minutes of searching, she finally found people. A bit on the side, hidden in the shadow of a ship, she saw two drunken hlêgs, glass beads in their braided hair and belts holding up hand-me-down pants. With a beating heart, Darya walked up to them.
“Hello, excuse-me,” she said to them, “Do you know where I can find the captain of the Kraken?”
The two hlêgs that had looked surprised and even mocking her at the start, now were angry.
“You have pretty big balls showing up here and asking for that.” said one of them as they grabbed her by the collar.
“I was told she could help me.” continued Darya, trying hard to hide her fear.
“Do you really wanna see her?” asked the other one, furious.
Darya nodded. In a powerful movement, both of the hlêgs pushed Darya to the ground. She fell on her stomach, her head facing the open sea. One put his foot on her back and the other grabbed her hair and yanked it back.
“Then go talk to her.”
Darya’s heart sank in as she understood what truly stood in front of her eyes. Far into the blue horizon, an opaque white fog stood, unperturbed. The Isles of Madness. Far beyond the shores of Dobrin, reigned the Yearning Sea, which gave way onto those isles. Anyone who had been arrogant enough or unfocused enough to get near it was entranced and without a single exception, shipped their sail into it and never came back. Some that had miraculously lived to tell the tale, said that the echoes of the screams of its victims never died, and polluted the air in a chilling atmosphere. Both of the hlêgs let go of Darya and spat on her back before leaving, alcohol in hand and a bad mood taking control of them. It took a moment for Darya to get up, as her eyes were glued to the horizon, trying to take in what had happened to the Kraken. From what she had heard during her travels, all escapees from the Earendil Community found a haven on that ship. They robbed military ships and had made sacred pacts with sea monsters to grant them safe travels. To Darya’s eyes it made no sense why that ship would be close enough to the Isles to get roped in their fog. Maybe it was a miscalculation, maybe the winds had unsuspectedly changed, maybe it was something else entirely. Once the eastern witch fully dusted herself off, she turned around to get back to the camp. Her heart slowly sank as she thought of having to ask help from the Avondale elves. Would they even lend her their ear and try to help them? As her eyes fell on the town before her, a strange cloud caught her attention. Her heart sank in as she looked at it. It was no cloud; it was dark smoke, and it came right from the forest. In a flash, she ran out of the town. She ran fast even after her legs felt like they would give in. She ran until her lungs felt smaller and her mouth tasted like iron and blood. The closer she got to the camp, the deeper the pit in her stomach became. Silence covered the camp like a blanket of lead, the smoke from burnt wool stuffed itself in her nose along with the smell of fresh blood. Darya finally stopped running at the camp’s limits, her body frozen at the mere sight of the camp. Trolls laid dead, ttacs were covered in their own blood, people laid dead left and right, and corpses covered in black cloaks with knives, axes, or swords in their hands were peppered across the camp. Crows. All of her human patients were dead, her other patients had either been massacred or had disappeared. Just as fear froze her, one word pushed a horror so deep in her it melted her awake.
“Surya!” she screamed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
Darya screamed her wife’s name over and over again as she avoided the corpses. She frantically ran and searched everywhere. Every tent she found, she screamed Surya’s name, hoping she would not find her corpse laying in one of them. She ran to the council's tent where almost all of her friends laid dead. A cry of pain pushed past her lips but she couldn’t stop now. She ran to her tent where her traveling cabinet laid open and its contents had been sprawled out on the floor, most bottles broken either from falling or from being thrown around. They had torn apart her books and thrown them on the floor. Her eyes fell on their bed, a small wooden frame covered in animal skin and two pillows, one soft for Surya and one harder for herself. Darya ran to it, searched inside the covers and bent down to search underneath the bed. Right as she was about to get back up, someone took her by the shoulder and threw her on her back.
“My, my, what have we here?” the crow said, a disgusting smile covering his face.
Darya tried to push him away but the burly man took her hands and pinned them above her head.
“Be nice.” he ordered, his voice dripping on her like slime.
The man approached his face as she turned hers away, trying to avoid him at all costs. With his hand he took her face and forced it still and approached his face closer to hers. In a primal instinct, she bit his lip. She didn’t let go until she could feel his blood run down her chin. The man screamed out in pain, sitting back so far he lost balance, allowing Darya to stand up and run away.
“You bitch!”
In a last ditch effort to get her, the man grabbed her ankle and Darya fell to the ground. She tried to kick him off of her as he crawled up to her face again. Once more, he turned her toward him, but this time, his hands wrapped around her throat, putting all of his available weight on it. Darya flailed her arms around, trying to hit his face, as he kept her at arm's length, a part of his lip missing and leaving a window on his bottom teeth. In a panic, as Darya felt her throat close up and her lungs scream for air, she grabbed something off of the floor and violently stabbed the man in the neck with it. The crow screamed in pain once more while blood from his neck flowed down on Darya’s face and upper chest. After a few seconds, she felt his hands release her, right before he fell limp on her. Darya extracted herself from underneath him, small screams of panic, fear, and pain coming out of her mouth. She stood up and slipped away, tears chasing down the blood on her cheeks as she ran as fast as she could toward the forest.