A chill wind swept through the camp, causing a shiver to run down Min's spine. The elder witches and their son exchanged meaningful glances, and Ilay wrapped her arm around Min's waist, drawing her closer. "Be cautious when speaking of the bear tribe, my dear," she whispered, her voice softer.
"The situation is dire and perilous," Erkin chimed in. "But Sergen is our kin, our family, and if he believes you can help us, then I trust his judgment."
"But why? Why me?" Min leaned her head against Ilay's shoulder, her mind overwhelmed with swirling thoughts and emotions. She struggled to find the right words or make sense of it all.
Sait's comforting hand found its way to Min's leg, and when she opened her eyes, she saw his kind face and gentle smile. "You're one of us now—my parents have a keen sense of character. If Sergen chose you, and if you decide to stay with us, the tribe will welcome you."
"May I... may I speak with my... my mate first?" Her voice trembled as she swallowed hard. So much uncertainty weighed on her, and she longed for guidance and support.
All three of them nodded in unison. Ilay kissed the top of Min's head, gently rubbing her back. There was a tenderness in her touch that reminded Min of her own mother, evoking a sense of longing for her presence. She wished her mother were there with her now. "The curse, the affliction that Sergen attempted to heal, can only be lifted if its creator is defeated. But we have located and isolated the source, so it won't trouble you again as long as the spell remains in your flesh."
"Then who is the creator?" Min asked, taking Ilay's hand in hers and placing it in her lap, hoping to please the older witch.
Erkin provided the answer. "The creator is San, the witch you mentioned—powerful and aligned with the bear-men. She has made it her mission to hunt our kind, and we don't know where she came from. She became the mate of Ustal, their chieftain, and she wields dark magic that makes them unstoppable. They have mercilessly slain dozens of our people in the past year." He sighed, his gaze scanning the small camp. "We are the last remaining."
A solemn silence hung in the air, and a wave of sadness washed over Min. In that moment, she felt the urge to run, to flee back to the safety of her mother's hut, and never emerge again. But she knew it was impossible. She had been thrust into a larger world, one she hadn't known existed just days ago.
Min wanted to make a promise that she would help, that she would stay and fight with all her might. But the taste of bitterness lingered in her mouth, and she slowly handed the bowl back to the chief's son before standing up, releasing Ilay's hand. "I will go and speak with my mate about this. Which tent is he resting in?"
"He always chooses the far end of the camp," Sait replied, pointing in the direction Selin had gone. "Shall I show you the way?"
"No, thank you. I think I can find it myself. And thank you for the delicious food."
Ilay placed a comforting pat on Min's hip, bidding her farewell in silence. Erkin and Sait nodded, acknowledging her departure. With heavy steps, Min turned and walked toward the direction Sait had indicated, her heart pounding in her chest, and her hands clenched tightly at her sides.
The camp exuded a warm and inviting atmosphere. She tried to envision herself as one of them—mending torn tents, tending to cooking fires, and lulling little ones to sleep. It was a stark contrast to the isolated life she had led. Min yearned for her mother's presence. Lost in her thoughts, she nearly missed the tent flap opening ahead, revealing Selin emerging from within. Selin, with her long legs and fair skin, curvaceous hips, and captivating eyes. When their gazes met, Selin wore a self-satisfied expression, and Min could make an educated guess about whose tent she had just left.
"What are you doing?" Min stopped a few paces away, scowling at Selin. "What were you doing in there?"
Selin tossed her hair back and snorted. "Are you accusing me of something?"
"If that's the tent I think it is, I'm accusing you of trespassing where you're not welcome."
The blonde remained unfazed. Min heard a familiar sound of bones cracking and reforming, and Selin's right hand suddenly doubled in length, her slender fingers extending into menacing claws. "My father," she said, "is the chief of this entire tribe. I go wherever I please."
Well, that certainly explained why Selin wasn't wearing her own tribal garment. Maybe wolf-women could also possess magical abilities, but Min decided to set that concern aside for now. She became aware that the sounds of the camp had hushed, with hurried footsteps approaching from behind, yet no one dared to speak or intervene. Even the natural noises of the forest seemed muted, as if even the birds had decided to remain silent.
Min tilted her head, struggling to believe what she was witnessing. "I am a stranger here, a guest. Is this how all your people behave, Selin? So impolitely?"
"Only when a stranger deserves it, you worthless waste of space," Selin sneered, curling her lip. "I'll never understand why Sergen chose to involve himself with you."
"Selin!" Ilay's voice cut through the air. "That's enough—"
Min raised her hand, halting Ilay's attempt to intervene. She didn't need or want someone else to defuse the situation. Selin was clearly seeking a confrontation, and it was up to Min to find a way to defuse it before things escalated further.
Min focused her attention on Selin's claws, that distorted hand capable of tearing her face apart if given the chance. She spoke softly, maintaining a curious tone as she scrutinized every detail: the slender digits, the thickened knuckles, the claws sharpened to black points. "Wolves heal quickly, don't they?"
Selin smirked, splaying her fingers open like a fan, causing the claws to click and scrape against each other. "Faster than you can do anything about it."
If a wolf-man—or wolf-woman—could trigger the transformation at will, it likely meant that it was controlled by their mind and willpower. Min made a conscious effort to keep her hands away from her head; it was a bad habit her mother had warned her about. Her eyes shimmered blue as her magical energy surged in her skull, and she connected her mind with Selin's.
It was a crude, untamed, and lustful place—a psyche Min might have found intriguing at another time. She caught glimpses of debauchery, desire, and physical hunger; flashes and images of Selin with Sergen, with unknown men, thoughts involving Sait, Ilay, and Erkin, all jumbled and entwined like vines on a tree.
Selin frowned and took a step closer, visibly flinching. "What are you doing?"
Min remained silent. It reminded her of when she first discovered her powers as a child, connecting with the minds of birds, small animals, even insects. They were creatures of lower intellect, barely aware of her presence. Selin, on the other hand, was acutely aware of Min's intrusion, and the expression on her face suggested she didn't appreciate it.
With a swift search, Min located the primal part of Selin's psyche where the woman and wolf were intertwined, controlling her physical transformation. With a mere thought, Min reversed the effect, as if pouring water back into a cup.
Selin gasped and then screamed in shock and agony as her bones shattered and reformed once again. She clutched her wrist, astonished, as her clawed fingers shrank and returned to their normal, albeit attractive, state. They no longer posed a threat. Next, Selin glanced at Min, tucking her hand protectively under her arm, as if that alone could shield her from the young witch.
"If I ever find you in his tent again," Min spoke softly, her voice carrying a chilling undertone, "I'll break your fingers so many times they'll never grow back." She resisted the urge to glare, opting for a passive expression instead, hoping it would instill more fear.
The chieftain's daughter fled.
After a momentary pause, Min closed her eyes, took a deep breath to steady herself, and prayed she wouldn't succumb to trembling. No one behind her uttered a word, which she hoped meant she hadn't violated any tribal decorum by issuing a threat. Gathering her resolve, she made her way to Sergen's tent—their tent—and lifted the flap, stepping inside.