Chapter 16: A New Beginning in Emberfrost

Selka and Raska stood outside the cave looking as though each had been made to swallow a handful of fat, live flies, while Seraya could straighten her back for the first time in hours without the fear of someone immediately pinning her back to the ground.

She had endured blows, threats, and humiliations all day long, yet now a few firm words from Vaelira were all it took to make her two most bitter enemies study their own feet in polite silence.

Well, look at that... It really does pay to have someone at your back who scares the living daylights out of everyone else.

She glanced at the shaman leaning against her shoulder, who had tried to cave her skull in with a staff not long ago, but was now dispensing commands with the haughty ease of a woman accustomed to instant obedience.

Her temper was foul and her hand far too quick to strike, but once she decided to take a side, she clearly had no intention of doing it by halves.

"Warri..." Vaelira began, cutting herself off to look at Seraya with slight hesitation.

Until now, addressing her like any other member of the tribe had come easily, but after their talk in the cave and the public honor, the title suddenly sounded too impersonal.

Seraya caught her expression and grinned a little wider.

"Seraya is fine. You really don't need to recite my full title every time."

The shaman took the remark with a brief nod, though the way she narrowed her eyes suggested the girl ought to watch her step with too much familiarity.

"Seraya, do my terms suit you?"

Had she not known how easily Vaelira went from talking to swinging, Seraya might have hugged her out of pure gratitude.

"They suit me," she assured her at once. "Very much so."

Only that afternoon she had been begging for a spot on someone else's bedding, and now she stood to gain a cave of her own, steady meals, and an exemption from chasing monsters through the forest each day.

For the first time since transmigrating, the future didn't look like an endless chain of running from gaping maws.

Of course, the matter of helping Vaelira remained, but with some time, access to her supplies, and the chance for a quiet conversation, Seraya could at least try to do more than desperately improvise under threat of execution.

First I'll get a proper night's sleep, then I'll see what this valley has to offer.

Maybe I won't end up as someone's dinner here after all.

Vaelira drew her hand back from Seraya's shoulder and braced it against the rock wall, cautiously shifting her weight onto her own feet.

"It is too late to prepare a new dwelling tonight. You will return to the cave that took you in, and tomorrow Morra will guide you to your shelter."

The burly elder bowed her head at once.

"I will see to it, shaman."

"Then you may take your leave," Vaelira announced, gesturing for the caretaker to come forward.

Seraya stepped back carefully, letting the woman take over supporting the weakened shaman, then adjusted her shirt and fell in behind Morra. She had taken only a few paces when the shaman's voice halted her by the bend in the rock.

"Seraya."

She turned her head, noticing Vaelira biting her lower lip faintly, though the rest of her face remained cool and composed.

"Remember what we agreed. Tell no one."

Seraya stared at her blankly for a second before recalling the shaman's dread upon hearing how many had learned of her fainting spell.

It was the bleeding, the pain, and everything Vaelira so desperately refused to show the tribe.

Seraya gave a slow nod.

"Don't worry. I'll keep it to myself."

The tension in the shaman's face softened slightly, and as the caretaker helped her back inside, she didn't look back after them.

Seraya watched the gazelle horns vanish into the dim cavern, wondering how on earth a community that thought nothing of walking around in leather loincloths could shroud ordinary bodily functions in such secrecy.

Back in her old world, not all women liked talking about it either, but here Vaelira's reaction resembled the fear of an exposed crime.

She did not yet know how many fears and superstitions had gathered in Emberfrost around unexplained bleeding. Blood spilled on a hunt was proof of battle, whereas blood appearing without a visible wound could stir fears of an ill omen, especially when it concerned the guardian of the entire tribe.

For Vaelira, keeping the secret meant far more than protecting her privacy.

"Warrior, what was it you promised the shaman?" Morra asked once they had put distance between themselves and the entrance.

Seraya looked at her, noticing that the other elders and Raska trailing behind were straining their ears as well.

Naturally. You might not know a calendar or how to throw pottery, but gossip was clearly invented before anything else.

"Something that stays between us," she replied, keeping her pace. "That's what I promised her."

Morra accepted the answer with a brief nod, and though curiosity remained on her face, she pressed no further.

Selka stopped at the fork in the stony trail and announced she was heading back to her own quarters.

She did not look at Seraya once, as if the mere sight of the outsider might remind her of the sting on her cheek and the witnesses to her punishment.

Seraya made no move to stop her.

After everything that had happened this evening, she understood all too well why the elder preferred to vanish into her cave before anyone else noticed the handprint on her face.

The other elders drifted off toward their own caves, and Seraya walked on with Morra and Raska trailing a few paces behind, the leaden weight of exhaustion growing in her legs.

When they reached Niva's cave, raised voices still drifted from within.

Most of the fires had burned low, but clusters of women still lingered near the entrance, clearly unwilling to disperse without news of Vaelira. At the sight of Seraya, conversations cut off unevenly, several faces hardening with resentment.

"She's back..."

"What of the shaman?"

One warrior stepped forward, but Morra blocked her path, raising a hand with an expression so resolute the woman stopped in her tracks.

"Vaelira has regained consciousness and spoke with me in person," she announced in a clear voice. "Seraya helped her. The accusations of stealing fire and bringing ruin were baseless."

A sharp murmur rippled through the crowd as eyes darted between the outsider and Raska lurking at the back.

Morra gave them no chance to stir up another brawl.

"The shaman recognized her deeds and granted her the title of First Warrior of Emberfrost. You are to treat her with the respect she is due."

Seraya watched their expressions shift under the weight of those words, feeling her jaw tighten.

Not long ago these very same women had wanted to crack her skull open, and now they stepped aside, lowered their heads, and muttered what might pass for apologies if one were feeling generous.

Wonder flickered in their eyes as well, impossible to hide.

Vaelira knew herbs, healed the sick, and guarded the flame, yet the newcomer kindled fire almost effortlessly and had now aided the shaman herself. Several women began whispering among themselves, wondering whether the tribe had just gained a second healer.

Seraya caught snippets of the chatter, longing more than ever to collapse onto a bedroll.

Please, just don't pin another title on me. First Warrior already sounds like an excuse to make me fight the biggest beast in the province one day.

Morra dispersed the onlookers, reminded them of the morning gathering, and headed off, leaving Seraya among the residents of her cave at last.

Niva came to her side almost immediately, though instead of her usual bouncy step she moved with care, favoring her side.

"Seraya... Are you all right?"

A dark bruise marked her cheek, her lower lip was slightly swollen, and finger marks showed on her bare shoulder. Her white rabbit ears lifted as she saw Seraya close up, as if her own aches no longer mattered.

Seraya felt a tight pang beneath her ribs.

Every thought of a cave of her own, food, and a new title felt pitifully small in that moment.

"I'm sorry, Niva," she said softly, looking at the bruised cheek. "You ended up right in the middle of this mess because of me."

Niva shook her head, a faint, stubborn smile touching her lips.

"You came back. That is what matters."

Seraya pressed her lips together; that answer stung far worse than any reproach.

She gently took the girl's hand, minding the raw scrapes, and held it between her fingers.

"Next time, don't stand in front of a mob by yourself," she said firmly. "And if anyone tries to hurt you again, come to me. If they're making me this First Warrior, it had better be good for something."

Niva's eyes welled, but she didn't lower her head in fear this time; she gave a slow nod and squeezed her hand.

Across the cave, Raska slumped against the wall.

Watching their clasped hands and the way Niva looked at Seraya, she felt the last remnants of hope shatter inside her.

Even when the stranger was a nobody, she hadn't managed to pull the girl's attention away; how was she supposed to compete with a warrior honored by Vaelira herself?

She buried her face in her forearm, unable to choke back the rising sobs.

Seraya heard it, glanced over, and looked away at once; after everything that had happened, she had neither the energy nor the desire to care about the grief of someone who had nearly gotten her killed.

Niva led her to the bedroll, where one of her mothers had already smoothed the pelts and fluffed the dry grass. They spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes, but as the adrenaline waned, exhaustion crashed over Seraya so heavily she could barely keep her eyes open.

She yawned mid-sentence, and Niva let go of her hand, stepping back to give her room.

"Sleep. We will talk tomorrow."

Seraya sank onto the bed, shifting her bruised shoulder so her weight wouldn't press against it, and for the first time since landing in this world, closed her eyes without expecting something to devour her in the next breath.

She drifted off before she could even register the scent of stale grass.

When Seraya woke the next morning, bright light streamed through the mouth of the cave, a broad shaft of sunlight beaming down from the cleft high in the ceiling.

She lay still for a moment, wondering why every bone ached and why rough stone stretched above instead of her ceiling. Then the memories flooded back all at once, drawing a groan as she threw an arm over her face.

So it wasn't a dream after all. Fantastic.

She pushed herself up reluctantly, worked the stiffness from her legs, and stretched, her shirt riding up on her stomach.

Her chest shifted beneath the fabric, so before heading out, she straightened her clothes and smoothed down hair that looked like a bird's nest after the night.

Surprisingly, the cave around her was nearly empty.

Seraya saw no sign of Niva by the bedrolls or the cold fire pits, and when she stepped outside, the stillness of the valley struck her.

Instead of yesterday's crowd, only scattered silhouettes moved near distant grottos, beside a few abandoned bundles of firewood and pale wisps of smoke drifting above the rock.

Seraya halted in the middle of the path.

Come on, give me a break... They didn't pack up and leave in the night, sticking me with this whole joint, did they?

Before she could spin that grim theory any further, Morra appeared across the clearing flanked by two women. Catching sight of Seraya, the elder raised a hand and veered toward her with an unexpectedly cheerful expression.

"Warrior, I was just coming to look for you."

Seraya nodded, harboring far less resentment toward the burly futa than the other elders. Morra could threaten death with the best of them, but she had stayed the executioners' hands more than once.

"Something happen, elder?"

"Your cave is ready. I wanted to lead you there, if you have the time."

Seraya surveyed the quiet valley, raised her brows, and spread her hands.

"Time is the one thing I'm not short on today. Lead the way."

They set off toward the eastern reaches of Rimefall Valley, Seraya glancing back at the quiet cave mouths after a few strides.

"Where did everyone go?"

"Out hunting and gathering," Morra replied. "By this hour, they are usually beyond the valley."

Seraya shot her a sidelong glance.

"Everyone? The older women and kids too?"

"Those who can walk lend a hand. Some track game, others gather fruit and roots or scout for small critters. Without that, there wouldn't be enough food for the tribe."

Seraya frowned, recalling Niva's bruised cheek and careful stride the night before.

"And if someone comes up empty-handed? Do you keep stores for days like that?"

Morra looked at her blankly.

"What stores?"

"Food set aside for later. For rain, bad hunts, sickness... whatever."

The elder shrugged.

"We eat what we bring in. If meat is left over, you eat it before it turns."

Seraya rubbed her forehead, watching her cozy picture of living off the tribe's generosity take on far less pleasant details.

So my meals are guaranteed, provided someone actually catches something today.

Splendid. Such enviable stability...

She dropped the topic, as Morra pointed out a gap between the rocks where the path wound gently toward a sheltered pocket of the valley.

After twenty minutes or so, they arrived at a small clearing, Seraya slowing her pace to study the spot with mounting interest.

Clumps of grass and wildflowers grew before the cave mouth, leaving plenty of open ground to sit, kindle a fire, or build something. To the left stood a small grove of two dozen trees, while to the right gleamed the surface of a natural pond fed by a trickle of water spilling down the rocks.

Morra stopped with the satisfied look of someone who had carried out her task.

"Here we are. Vaelira's cave is nearby, just beyond that gap."

Seraya walked to the edge, crouched down, and peered into the clear water. The rocky bottom was plainly visible, though the deepest section looked to be roughly six feet down.

The place looked surprisingly pleasant.

Water, trees, a clearing of her own, and a roof over her head - after yesterday's swamp, vine ropes, and rocks held over her face, she almost suspected someone was trying to make up for all the misery.

Then she noticed something odd.

Not a single fish fin flickered near the shallows, and she saw no larger creatures among the stones. She shifted further along, shaded her eyes against the sun, and looked again, but the water remained deserted.

"Nothing lives in here?"

Morra stepped up beside her.

"There used to be fish and crawlers. The folk fished them out."

Seraya turned her head slowly.

"All of them?"

"Every one they could catch. After that, no more appeared."

Seraya stared at the elder for a long moment, biting back the retort on the tip of her tongue.

Naturally. Why leave anything for later when you can devour everything at once and spend the next day wondering why there's no dinner?

She looked back at the water, initial irritation giving way to a sober reality.

Yesterday she had seen how the women stared at meat, how they swallowed hard and gave up their own portions to their kin; it was easy to criticize from the bank of an empty pond, far harder to imagine salting away food when an entire family sat starving.

Still, it didn't change the outcome.

The pond was barren, stores were nonexistent, and the tribe's survival hung on whatever came in before sunset.

Seraya stood up and dusted off her hands, taking in the clearing, the grove, and the mouth of her new cave.

How Emberfrost had scraped by before was their business, but from now on she had to sleep, eat, and survive here too.

She had no intention of discovering one night that an honorary title sounded grand, but couldn't fill an empty stomach.

All right, Seraya. A roof over your head is handled; now make sure you don't starve beneath it.

Casting one last glance at the barren pond, she turned toward the cave, her expression far more focused.

Food preservation had just stopped being an abstract idea.

It was now her own urgent, bloody problem.