Instructing Kalihn to be herself was a grave mistake. The elf was like a cicada, capable of chirping away for hours on end about absolutely nothing. What’s worse, she’d singled out Oralia as the unwilling audience to her endless babble. From theatre, to literature, to her favorite color, Oralia was certain Kalihn had somehow touched on every topic in existence without imparting anything of actual substance.

Gentle hints were not working. Nor blatant ones. Oralia even attempted to switch from the head of the procession to the back, but Kalihn followed at her heels, yapping away like an unruly lap dog. Rali–who was not only unopposed to causing ripples in interpersonal relationships, but delighted in the opportunity–normally would have interjected on Oralia’s behalf by now. Not today, unfortunately. From the dwarf’s smug smile, the retribution for Oralia’s teasing earlier had unfolded all on its own.

“Kalihn.” Oralia kept her voice low and free of the tone that implied she wanted to bash her own aching skull against any number of the passing trees repeatedly. “We are nearing the Mossborn border. Speak only when necessary.”

“You got it boss,” Kalihn whispered back. “It’s remarkable how you can tell we’re near the border without any signs or fences or anything.”

“Truly,” Oralia agreed.

“Just looks like trees to me. Brown ones, gray ones, white speckled ones with–”

“I see the trees, Kahlin. You do not have to describe them to me.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. I tend to blab when I’m nervous.”

Oralia bit back her reply of ‘I noticed’, hopeful that if she demonstrated how to keep one’s mouth shut, the elf would follow suit.

“My friends used to refer to it as flux of the mouth. ‘Oh there goes, Kalihn again,’ they’d say. ‘Jabber-jawing away as usual.’”

Oralia tilted her head skyward, cursing the gods above for having such a cruel sense of ironic humor. Talked to death by Ellisar’s stand-in. If Oralia’s demise could not be committed by Ellisar’s hand, it seemed only fitting that it be carried out by her body double.

Other than Kalihn’s fervent whispering, the serene forest around them was still. A light breeze rippled through the orange and yellow treetops, sending cascades of spent leaves drifting downwards, destined to join the thousands of others spread across the mossy woodland floor. The air was cold and crisp, laden with the pungent stench of autumn decay.

A single dirt road connected New Adderwood territory to Mossborn. Oralia had kept to the beaten path for as long as she dared. Traveling along an established route, one free of fallen trees and unlevel ground, was undeniably faster. With Mossborn’s border looming in the distance, and their chances of running across a realm patrol increasing with each step, Oralia reluctantly gave the order to move into the trees sometime around mid afternoon. The going went much slower after that. Painfully slow, in fact. At their going rate, they would be lucky to cross the border by nightfall.

Not that she would be telling Kalihn that.

“It’s so quiet,” the elf remarked nonchalantly, as if unaware her mouth was moving again. “Like eerie quiet.”

Not quiet enough, Oralia thought to herself.

Scanning the dense forest ahead of her, Oralia’s eyes caught the telltale shape of a man stealthy picking his way towards them. Her sense of smell kept her calm, assuring her that the approaching scout was one of her own. Mul stepped out from behind a towering poplar, its green and yellow leaves shivering in the breeze. He leaned against the trunk of the narrow tree, waiting for the laggers to catch up as he chewed on the root end of a flowering plant.

“Find something?” Oralia asked once she was within a reasonable distance that did not require her to shout.

“Lots of activity in the area,” he said around whatever in the gods’ names it was he was eating. It had a delicate, floral smell that did little to combat his personal aroma of sweat and mud. “I came across an old encampment. Whoever made it left about a week ago, I’d say.”

Oralia merely nodded along to Mul’s report. In addition to realm patrols, they had roving bands of bandits to contend with as well. Adderwood and Mossborn were both expansive sprawls of uninhabited territory, with few towns, a single road, and not enough law enforcement to safeguard either. Oralia knew the bandits would be staying close to the roadway, tucked out of sight, awaiting the opportunity to ambush any unsuspected victims who happened to pass by. Even with a handful of competent warriors at her side, she did not intend to give the bandits the opportunity.

“Any suitable areas to bed down for the night?” Oralia asked.

Mul scratched his stomach as he spoke. “I’m good to bed down with you here if you’re in that much of a hurry. Might get a bit awkward for your beau, though.”

“What happened to wooing Rali?”

“There’s enough me for everyone.”

Oralia’s resulting glare did nothing to discourage the cheeky smile split across Mul’s heavily bearded face. It did, at the very least, earn her an actual answer. “There’s an ideal camp spot not too far from here.”

While Oralia did not relish Mul’s impudent nature, she had nothing but respect for his prowess in the field. He was a proficient tracker, capable of reading the signs of the forest and following a trail with the persistence of a bloodhound. It was uncanny how someone so obnoxiously loud could make the switch to silent, stealthy hunter without triggering an identity crisis. It was the Stoneclaw way, Mul insisted. Going on to claim that he’d be dead before any would-be bandits caught him ‘ass out in a blizzard’.

Questionable idioms aside, Mul’s expertise meant Oralia did not have to double check whether or not his proposed campsite was well covered, away from the road, and near a source of clean running water. Mul had undoubtedly taken all of this into consideration, and bringing it up would earn her nothing short of mockery.

“Excellent,” Oralia congratulated. “We will follow your lead.”

“Finally starting to acknowledge my stellar leadership skills, eh? It’s about fucking time.”

Considering Mul equated leadership with a genitalia measuring contest, Oralia sincerely doubted he possessed any skills to speak of. Reminding him of this, however, would require more mental energy than she currently had. In a move born from pure desperation, Oralia guided Kahlin forward with a strong push of her hand. “There is more to being a leader than being followed, Mul. A good leader must also be a teacher.”

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“Counterpoint,” he replied, navigating the chewed root stem to the corner of his mouth. “A good leader recruits good teachers.”

“Congratulations, consider yourself recruited.”

His pale green eyes roved between Oralia and Kalihn, gathering bits of information from Oralia’s body language as he devised a way to use what he found against her. “And rob you of this young lady’s gripping conversation skills? I couldn’t possibly, boss. It’d be cruel of me.”

The true cruelty was that Oralia was still having this conversation. “I insist.”

“Uh…” Kalihn said, digging her heels into the ground in an attempt to stop whatever was happening.

Fortunately, the elf’s pushback was no match for Oralia’s strength. She propelled her towards Mul with a gentle push. “Kalihn here has expressed a desire to learn.”

“Have I?” Kalihn said. “I mean, yes, I said that. But I meant from you.”

“Mul is one of my most competent scouts. It would be a disservice to you, Kalihn, to learn from anyone but the best.”

“And what exactly am I getting out of this?” Mul demanded.

“You are learning to be a leader.”

“Forget it.” He spit the nibbled plant to the ground and crossed his arms. “Changed my mind. I don’t wanna lead no more.”

“It would be good practice for your own people,” Oralia reminded him. A part of her hated how easily the words flowed from her mouth. Fortunately, the part of her that was desperate for peace and quiet was overriding her conscience. “Eventually, one of your siblings will have to assume the Stoneclaw throne. Having leadership experience under your belt could serve you well.”

Neither Mul nor Kalihn appeared convinced.

One of the perks of actually being in charge meant Oralia could have her way. Sometimes. “In case I was not clear, I am not asking in this instance. I am telling. Mul, take Kalihn with you and start her on the basics of scouting.” Oralia shot a look over the top of the elf’s head at Mul that all but shouted ‘without making your pupil cry’.

“This is the last time I ever do a good job of anything,” Mul grumbled under his breath as he shuffled ahead with Kalihn tentatively following.

Blessed silence returned. And yet, it was not as serene as Oralia had hoped. Without Kalihn’s incessant whispering around to grate on her nerves, the mounting complaints from her own body swiftly assumed the vacancy. The hours of walking had worked up a sweat and yet, the bones in her hips felt cold and achy. It wouldn’t be long, she feared, before they started to creak with every burdensome step.

Additionally, her linen undershirt was riding up again.

Oralia stood off to the side, allowing the others to pass as she fought the sweat-soaked fabric back into position. From the corner of her eye, she saw a hulking shape come to a standstill paces from her. Oralia lifted her head, trying to decipher whether Sascha’s expression was more amused or concerned. There was a healthy dose of both present, but the fact that he wasn’t cracking a joke probably meant it swung more towards the latter.

“I am fine,” Oralia assured him, smoothing her outer clothes back into place.

Three pack mules stood behind him. Each beast was tethered to the one in front of it, with the guiding lead clasped firmly in Sascha’s right hand. He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

“It is this blasted under cloth!” The words leapt from her mouth as if they had a mind of her own. “It keeps riding up, and no amount of adjusting it is helping. I am about to tear the damn thing off and be done with it.”

“I have no objection to that plan,” Sascha said as a wry smirk split across his face. He gestured for her to join with a sweep of his free hand. “You should walk with me once you’re finished. I promise I won’t talk your ear off.”

A few irritating wardrobe adjustments later, Oralia stomped to his side and, together, they walked on. She and Sascha made up the tail end of the procession, which was fine by her, as it meant the others were less likely to overhear her childish complaints. “For the record, I blame you.”

“Mhm.”

He didn’t even ask what she was blaming him for. Best not to leave him guessing. “I have never had a competent cook in my company before. We took turns, got by the best we could, but dinner was more of a chore than something to be enjoyed. You and your three solid meals a day are having an impact on my waistline.”

“Obviously. That was my grand scheme all along,” Sascha replied. “It’s easier for me to keep up this way.”

His free hand hung at his side, swaying in time with each step. Oralia stared at it for longer than she should have. She’d never been one for public displays of affection, but understood that, for some gods awful reason, it was something others enjoyed. Trying not to make a face, she timed the movement of Sascha’s hand and caught it upon the backswing.

She stared straight ahead and kept walking, ignoring the impulse to yank her hand free when his strong fingers interlaced with her own. Sascha didn’t draw attention to it which, after several prolonged seconds of silence, seemed somewhat suspicious. Fearing she’d misjudged him and that he was simply holding her hand out of a misplaced sense of duty, Oralia glanced his way.

The big lug was practically beaming. There was a giddy smile curled on his face that reached well beyond his sable eyes. Sascha’s normally blue-gray cheeks had a touch of color, too. The blush could just as easily have been attributed to the crisp air, but Oralia didn’t think so. His expression eased some of her discomfort. In fact, it would have been an entirely pure moment if it were not for the slick layer of sweat collecting between their warm palms.

That was going to take some getting used to.

“Are you going to startle if I say something?” he asked.

Startle? She considered, briefly, whether or not she’d just been compared to an untrained horse. “Why would I do that?”

“Because it looks like you’re one teasing remark away from running for the hills.”

“I am not,” she scoffed. Running would have been murder on her stiff joints. A swift walk was all that was needed to stay ahead of Sascha.

“And you’re not going to let go of my hand if I do say something?”

It was times like this that Oralia found him so utterly adorable, she had to stifle the impulse to say something disgustingly mushy. ‘I want to eat you up’ was an expression she’d overheard on several occasions. That seemed to send mixed signals, however. Particularly when it came from a hungry orc. Instead of saying anything, she opted to lift a single eyebrow slightly higher than the other, as if challenging Sascha to test his luck.

Sascha rarely backed down from a challenge and today was no exception. “Honestly, I can’t tell if you’re sick, or if this is you feeling better.”

Truth be told, Oralia wasn’t so sure of that herself.

“But I like it,” Sascha said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “And if this is what happens when you finally let me carry that cursed stone of yours for the day, then I might just keep it.”

It was a nice change of pace not having the burden of powerstone weighing her down. Oralia was reluctant to entrust it to another, which was the reason only Sascha and Rali were allowed to keep it on their person from time to time. Normally it took a bit of convincing but, with a long journey ahead of her–with a body that already felt stretched too thin–Oralia had surrendered the stone without a fight.

“Over my dead body,” Oralia said. “I may not know what to do with it yet, but I can assure you, it will not be staying in your care.” Just because she hadn’t put up a fight earlier did not mean she was ready and willing to give up being a stubborn curmudgeon altogether. After all, she had a reputation to maintain. Growing soft was not something that happened overnight. It was all about the baby steps.

“And why’s that?”

Oralia’s gaze dropped to their hands. Hers practically engulfed within his, creating a small reservoir of sweat between the two of them.

Sascha’s wry smile pulled into a full smile, teeth and all. “Because you love me?”

“Ugh,” was the only reply worth mustering.

“And because, against my better judgment, I love you?” He leaned into her, bumping her with his shoulder playfully.

She considered releasing his hand to prove her point. The fact that she didn’t probably spoke far more than any silly words could have.

“Mhm.” He gave a definitive bob of his head. “Thought so.”

“Hush. We are nearing the border.”

“I don’t think that works on anyone, love.”