Chapter 5: The Huntress in the Hollow (Part 2)

Chapter 5: The Huntress in the Hollow (Part 2)

They walked through the morning and into the afternoon, the forest gradually thinning as the terrain grew rockier. The ground rose in a series of low ridges, the trees giving way to patches of scrub and exposed stone. Lyra's feet no longer hurt, and that was a small miracle in itself.

She had also, reluctantly, taken Aelindra's advice. Covering herself was pointless when the elf had already seen everything. So she let her arms hang at her sides as they walked, her body moving freely through the forest. It was strange---the absence of the constant arm-clutching. The shame was still there, a hot ember in her chest, but it was easier to ignore when she wasn't constantly fighting a losing battle.

Aelindra talked as they walked---not constantly, but in comfortable bursts, filling the silence with observations about the forest, complaints about the weather, and the occasional dry joke at her own expense.

"---so there I am, hanging upside down from a tree branch, my bow at the bottom of a ravine, and the boar---this massive, angry thing with tusks like swords---is circling below me, waiting for me to fall. And Borin, my dwarven friend, is just standing there laughing. Doesn't even try to help. Just crosses his arms and says, 'I told you that branch wouldn't hold.'" She shook her head, silver hair swaying. "I didn't speak to him for a week."

Lyra found herself smiling despite everything. "What happened? With the boar?"

"Kael shot it. Our swordsman. He'd been tracking me from the ridge, and he put an arrow through its eye just as the branch snapped." She shrugged. "So I fell anyway. Right onto the dead boar. Bruised my tailbone and got covered in boar blood. Borin said it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen." She snorted. "Dwarves. Great craftsmen, terrible friends."

Lyra's heart quickened at the mention of the others. A dwarf. A swordsman. A mage. The words painted pictures in her mind---images drawn from a thousand half-remembered stories. "Borin," she said, testing the name. "He's really a dwarf? Like---shorter than humans, really strong, lives underground?"

Aelindra glanced back, her eyebrow arched. "You really have led a sheltered life, haven't you? Yes, he's a dwarf. Broad as a barrel, beard down to his belt, can drink an entire tavern dry and still swing his hammer straight. He'd be offended if he knew you had to ask." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Don't stare at him when you meet him, by the way. He hates that. Says it makes him feel like a zoo exhibit."

"When I meet him?" Lyra's voice squeaked slightly.

"Assuming we all make it to Thornwall in one piece? Probably." Aelindra shrugged. "We usually stay at the same inn---the Gilded Tankard, near the guild hall. Loud place, bad ale, but the beds are clean. If you're serious about this adventuring thing, you'll probably end up there too."

Adventuring. The word sent a thrill through Lyra's chest. "What's it like? Being an adventurer, I mean."

Aelindra laughed. "Exciting? Yeah, sometimes. When you're not knee-deep in a swamp, or running from something with too many teeth, or sitting through a three-hour guild meeting about supply requisitions." She shook her head. "It's a living. A hard one. Dangerous, too---I've lost friends. Good friends." Her voice dropped, and for a moment, something shadowed crossed her face. Then she shook it off. "But it's never boring, I'll give it that. And there's something about it---the freedom. No lord to answer to, no land to tie you down. You go where the work is, you fight what needs fighting, and you see things most people only hear about in bard songs. That's worth a lot."

Lyra listened, her heart pounding. "I want to do it," she said. The words came out before she could stop them. "I know how I sound. I know I'm not exactly impressive right now. But I'm a hard worker. I learn fast. And I've got nothing left to lose." She swallowed. "I want to go on quests. Help people. See the things you've seen. Maybe even learn magic."

Aelindra stopped walking. She turned, her pale green eyes studying Lyra with a new intensity. "You're serious."

"I am."

Aelindra was quiet for a moment. Then she smiled---a real smile, small and fleeting, but warm. "You know, I met someone like you once. A long time ago. She was also foolish and stubborn and way too optimistic for her own good. Walked into the guild hall with nothing but the clothes on her back and a ridiculous dream." She paused, her smile fading slightly. "She died in a dungeon three years ago. Cave-in. We never even found her body."

Lyra's stomach dropped.

"But," Aelindra continued, meeting her eyes, "she died doing what she loved. And if you'd asked her, she would have said it was worth it." She reached out and squeezed Lyra's shoulder---briefly, gently, her fingers cool against Lyra's bare skin. "If you really want this, you can do it. But it's going to be hard. Harder than anything you've ever done. And the first thing you're going to need---" Her eyes dropped pointedly to Lyra's naked body, and a wry smile returned to her lips. "---is some clothes."

Lyra laughed, a shaky, relieved sound. "I'm working on it."

"Work faster."

The afternoon sun was slanting through the trees when they crested a low ridge and Aelindra held up a hand, signaling a halt.

"Hold up," she said, her voice dropping to a murmur. "Look."

Lyra followed her gaze and felt her breath catch. Nestled in the hollow between two wooded hillsides was a cluster of rough-hewn structures---huts built from timber and hide, lashed together with crude ropes. Smoke rose from a central fire pit, and figures moved among the buildings: hulking, green-skinned figures with heavy brows and protruding tusks, their bodies draped in patchwork armor of leather and bone. She counted perhaps a dozen of them, going about their business---sharpening weapons, hauling firewood, arguing in guttural voices that carried faintly on the wind.

Her first thought was: Those are orcs. Her second thought was: Oh god, those are ORCS.

She had seen their like before, in countless illustrations and animated scenes. But seeing them in the flesh was something else entirely. The green skin, the tusks, the brutal, heavy-boned builds---they were monstrous and human at the same time, and the combination made her skin crawl.

"What do we do?" Lyra whispered.

"We go around." Aelindra's voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "There's maybe fifteen of them---too many to fight with just my bow, and you're not exactly in fighting shape. We'll circle east, through the denser woods. It'll add an hour or two to the trip, but we won't end up in that cookpot." She glanced at Lyra, her pale eyes glinting. "Fresh human meat is considered a delicacy in some orc clans."

Lyra's stomach turned. "Good to know."

"Come on. Stay low, stay quiet, and try not to step on anything loud."

They circled the orc camp in silence, moving through the densest part of the woods where the undergrowth was thick enough to hide their passage. Aelindra moved with practiced ease, her feet finding the quietest paths. Lyra did her best to follow, but she was far from silent---every step seemed to find a dry leaf or a hidden stick, and she winced at every crack and rustle. Her nakedness, which had become almost normal during the long walk, suddenly felt terrifying again. Pale skin against dark foliage---she felt like a beacon, certain that every orc in the valley could see her.

They passed within fifty yards of the camp. Lyra could smell them now---a musky, animal scent mixed with woodsmoke and cooking meat. She caught glimpses through the trees: a massive orc with a scarred face sharpening an axe; two smaller ones wrestling in the dirt, laughing with harsh, barking sounds; a female orc stirring a pot over the central fire, her tusks glinting. They were brutal, primitive, utterly alien---and yet, watching them, Lyra felt a strange flicker of recognition. They were not mindless monsters. They were people, of a sort. Living their lives, arguing and laughing and working. The realization unsettled her more than mindless savagery would have.

Everything I thought I knew is wrong, she thought. Everything.

They made camp that evening in a small clearing ringed by ancient oaks. The orc camp was miles behind them now, and the forest had grown quiet again. Aelindra built a fire with practiced efficiency, and soon a small flame was crackling in the center of the clearing.

Lyra sat close to the fire, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. The position gave her some small measure of coverage, but she didn't dwell on it. She was too tired to be self-conscious.

Aelindra sat across the fire, her back against an oak, her bow propped within easy reach. She produced a packet of dried meat and hard travel bread from her pack and tossed a portion to Lyra.

"Eat," she said. "We'll reach Thornwall by midday tomorrow if we start early."

Lyra caught the food. "Thank you. For everything. The tonic, the food, the escort. I don't know how to repay you."

Aelindra shrugged, chewing on a strip of dried meat. "You don't. That's the point of helping someone---it's not a loan." She swallowed and shot Lyra a wry look. "Besides, you were so pathetic this morning. It was either help you or feel guilty about it for the next century. And elves live a long time. That's a lot of guilt."

"How long?"

"Hm?"

"Elves. How long do you live?"

Aelindra tilted her head. "Depends. A few centuries, if you're careful and don't get eaten by something. My grandmother is over four hundred, and she still climbs trees." A faint, fond smile crossed her face. "Drives my mother crazy. Says she's going to break a hip. My grandmother says hips were made to be broken."

Lyra shook her head, marveling. Four hundred years. It was beyond comprehension.

"I'm glad I met you," she said quietly. "Even if I was pathetic."

Aelindra laughed---a real laugh, warm and unguarded. "You were. Absolutely pathetic. But you've got guts, I'll give you that. Most people would have given up after the first mile. You kept going." She met Lyra's eyes across the fire, her expression softening. "That counts for something."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling between them. The stars began to emerge overhead, cold and bright. Lyra stared up at them, her body aching, her stomach still growling despite the food. She was still naked. Tomorrow, she would still be naked. But she was not alone.

"Aelindra," Lyra said, as the fire began to die down. "Thank you. Really. Most people wouldn't have helped."

Aelindra was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Most people aren't rangers. We have a saying: the forest provides, but only for those who respect it. You were lost and wounded and alone. Leaving you to die would have been... disrespectful." She paused, and a faint smile touched her lips. "Also, you were so utterly pathetic that I felt vaguely guilty. So don't read too much into it."

Lyra laughed softly. "I'll take what I can get."

"Good. That's the first lesson of being an adventurer." Aelindra pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and settled back against the oak. "Sleep. We move at dawn."

Lyra curled up on her side, as close to the fire as she could get without burning herself. The ground was hard and damp beneath her bare skin. The fire warmed her front, but her back was exposed to the night, and she shivered constantly. She tried to arrange her hands to cover herself---one between her thighs, the other over her chest---but the position was awkward, and she knew her hands would slip once she fell asleep.

She was still naked.

But she was not alone. The woman on the other side of the fire had pointed ears and silver hair and a laugh that was warm and real. She had called Lyra pathetic and brave in the same breath. She had shared her food, healed her wounds, and guided her through a forest full of orcs. She was prickly and sarcastic, but she was also kind---genuinely kind.

A friend, Lyra thought, and the word felt fragile and precious, like a flame cupped in her hands. I think I've made a friend.

"Get some sleep," Aelindra said, her voice drowsy. "Tomorrow's the last push. And when we get to Thornwall---" She paused, and a grin spread across her face. "The first round's on you."

Lyra groaned. "I don't have any money."

"I know." Aelindra's grin widened. "That's what makes it funny."