The first light of dawn crept through the small window of the room, casting a pale glow over the rough-hewn walls of the village hall. Gwenbelle sat beside Buinn's bed, her eyes heavy with fatigue but unyielding in their vigil. The air was cool and still, a welcome reprieve from the oppressive heat of the jungle that lay just beyond the wooden walls. Buinn lay motionless beneath a blanket, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that brought Gwenbelle a small measure of relief. Though he had yet to regain consciousness, his pallor had improved, and the fever that had wracked his body during the night had subsided.
She reached out, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, her fingers trembling slightly as they made contact with his warm skin. Buinn had always been the thinker, the planner, the one with the knowledge and the maps. Gwenbelle had relied on his wisdom more times than she could count, and now, seeing him so vulnerable, so fragile, a pang of guilt twisted in her gut. If only she had been stronger, faster—perhaps then Nainn, Nar, and Nali would still be alive, and Buinn would not be lying here, teetering on the edge of life and death.
Her gaze drifted to the small table beside the bed, where a scattering of parchment lay—Buinn's maps, half-drawn and smudged with the dirt of the jungle. She reached for them, careful not to disturb the other contents on the table. The maps were crude, sketched with a trembling hand during the chaos of their journey, but they held the key to understanding where they were, and more importantly, where they needed to go.
Gwenbelle unfolded one of the maps, her eyes narrowing as she traced the jagged lines that represented the treacherous terrain they had traversed. Buinn had always been meticulous with his cartography, marking every notable landmark, every river and ridge with a precise hand. The map showed the dense thicket of the jungle they had been cutting through, the winding rivers that had nearly swept them away, and the cursed territory of the Boar King that had claimed the lives of their comrades.
Her finger hovered over a particular spot—a crude X marked on the map, the symbol Buinn had used to denote danger. It was not far from where they had been ambushed, but there, beyond the mark, was something else. A faint line, almost imperceptible, that led toward what could only be the outpost they sought. The outpost, their destination, their salvation. If they could reach it, they would be safe, at least for a time.
But how far were they? The scale was difficult to discern, and Gwenbelle cursed herself for not paying closer attention during their journey. She could only guess, and it was a dangerous game to play in these unforgiving lands.
A soft groan brought her attention back to Buinn. His eyelids fluttered, but he did not wake. Gwenbelle's heart ached to see him like this, and a surge of determination flooded her veins. She had to do something. She could not simply sit and wait for him to recover while the dangers of the jungle lurked just outside.
Gwenbelle folded the map carefully, slipping it into her belt pouch. She needed to speak with Kael, the enigmatic figure who had saved them and brought them to this strange floating village. The girl—no, the woman, she reminded herself—had shown strength and resourcefulness that Gwenbelle had not expected from a human, especially one so young and seemingly alone in this hostile land. But Kael had questions of her own, questions that Gwenbelle was not sure she could—or should—answer.
But first, they needed to survive. And for that, they needed to find the outpost, regroup, and decide their next move.
Kael awoke to the faint light of dawn filtering through the wooden shutters of his chamber. The air was cool, tinged with the earthy scent of the surrounding jungle that clung to the floating village like a cloak. He rose from his bed, his limbs stiff from the strain of the previous days, and crossed the room to the small washbasin. The water was cold against his skin as he splashed it over his face, banishing the last vestiges of sleep from his mind. He stared at his reflection in the murky water, still not entirely accustomed to the face that stared back at him—a young woman's face, delicate and unfamiliar, yet now his own.
With a sigh, Kael dried his face and reached for the simple tunic and trousers he had laid out the night before. The fabric was rough against his skin, a far cry from the silks and linens he had once worn, but he had grown used to the practical garments that suited the harshness of this land. After lacing up his boots, he made his way to the small kitchen that served as the heart of the village hall.
The kitchen was a modest affair, with a stone hearth, a few well-worn pots and pans, and a wooden table that bore the marks of countless meals prepared in haste. Kael set to work, his movements precise and methodical as he prepared breakfast. He boiled water for tea, sliced some of the dried meat they had stored, and sliced a few fruits into a pan, watching as they sizzled over the fire. The scent of cooking food filled the air, warm and comforting in its familiarity.
When the meal was ready, Kael plated two portions and set them on the dining table, making sure to leave a space between them. He then prepared a third portion, a little lighter, and placed it on a tray alongside a steaming cup of tea. With the tray in hand, he left the kitchen and walked down the narrow corridor that led to the guest rooms.
He found Gwenbelle in Buinn's room, seated beside the bed with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her face was pale, her eyes dark with worry as she watched over the young dwarf. Buinn lay motionless, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath, but the fever had broken, and his color had returned, if only slightly.
Kael approached the bed quietly, setting the tray on the nightstand beside Buinn. The gentle clink of the cup against the wood seemed to rouse Gwenbelle from her thoughts, and she looked up at him, her eyes questioning, searching for reassurance.
"He's stable," Kael said softly, meeting her gaze. "The Seraph have been monitoring him closely. He's safe here, Gwenbelle. You can rest easy knowing that."
Gwenbelle nodded, but the worry did not fully leave her eyes. "I... I don't know how to thank you, But… thank you. For the bed, for the water. I was able to clean myself and sleep without worry for the first time since the expedition began." she murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion. "If it weren't for you, I don't know if we would have made it this far."
"You can thank me by eating something," Kael replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Come, I've prepared breakfast. You need your strength, and so does Buinn when he wakes."
Gwenbelle hesitated, her gaze drifting back to Buinn's still form, but Kael gently touched her shoulder, guiding her away from the bedside. "He'll be fine, I promise. The Seraph are keeping a close watch on him. You need to take care of yourself too."
Reluctantly, Gwenbelle allowed herself to be led down the corridor and into the dining area. The smell of cooked meat and tea greeted them, and Kael motioned for her to sit at the table. The two plates were already waiting, steam rising from the food in gentle tendrils.
Gwenbelle sank into the chair opposite Kael, her exhaustion evident in every movement. Kael took his seat as well, watching her as she picked up her fork and began to eat, slowly at first, then with more vigor as the hunger she had been ignoring finally caught up with her.
Kael began his meal as well, but his mind was already racing, sifting through the information Gwenbelle and Buinn might hold, the knowledge they had of this strange and hostile land. He needed to understand their purpose, their goals, and how they might align—or conflict—with his own.
As they ate in silence, the only sound the clink of cutlery against plates, Kael found himself studying Gwenbelle more closely. She was strong, that much was clear, but there was a vulnerability in her eyes, a fear that she was trying to hide behind a mask of determination. He wondered what she had seen, what had driven her to this place, and what she sought to find—or escape from—in this unforgiving jungle.
As he reached for some smoked meat and fruit, Gwenbelle rose from her seat and approached him. Her demeanor was cautious but curious, as if she were still trying to puzzle him out. "What's your plan for the day, Kael?" she asked, her voice measured. "With Buinn still injured, I'll have to depend on you for a while."
Kael paused, considering her question as he chewed the smoked meat. "I was hoping to learn more about this place," he said carefully, handing her a piece of fruit before taking one for himself. "About the Boar King, about the dangers we might face. But first… I wanted to ask you about the dwarves. The ones who fell."
Gwenbelle's expression darkened at the mention of her fallen companions, but she nodded for him to continue.
"They fought bravely," Kael said, his voice softening with respect. "I know they were important to you. What would you like to do with their bodies?"
Gwenbelle looked away, her gaze distant as she wrestled with her grief. "They deserve to be honored, to be remembered," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "But we're far from home, and there's no way to give them the proper rites. I suppose… we could build cairns, lay them to rest in the earth, and mark their passing with what stones we can find."
Kael nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of her words. "I can help with that," he offered gently. "But… if I may ask, what about their equipment? The weapons, the armor… I noticed some metal in their bodies, broken, damaged. Would it be disrespectful if I were to take what remains, to use it for repairs? This place… it's not easy to maintain, and every bit of material helps."
Gwenbelle's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—sorrow, hesitation, and finally, a reluctant acceptance. "Their gear was broken in battle, serving their final duty," she said quietly. "If you can make use of what's left, I suppose they would have wanted that. To continue serving, even after death. Take what you need, Kael. Just… honor their memory as you do."
Kael inclined his head in gratitude, feeling the weight of her words. "Thank you, Gwenbelle. I'll make sure their sacrifice isn't forgotten."
They stood in silence for a moment, the unspoken grief hanging in the air between them. Finally, Kael broke the silence, his tone turning practical. "I'll need more information about the Boar King. Anything you can tell me—its habits, its weaknesses, anything you noticed during the fight. The more I know, the better we can prepare for the next time it comes."
Gwenbelle nodded, her expression hardening with determination. "The Boar King… it's not like the other beasts in this jungle. It's smart, cunning even. It knew how to break through our defenses, how to target our weakest points. Its hide is like iron, and its tusks can shatter stone. But it's not invincible. We managed to wound it, to make it bleed. If we can find its weak spots, we might stand a chance."
Kael listened intently, absorbing her words as he finished his preparations. Gwenbelle's insight was invaluable, and he knew that their survival might depend on understanding this enemy.
"Thank you, Gwenbelle," Kael said, his tone sincere. "We'll need to work together if we're going to make it through this."
Gwenbelle met his gaze, her expression still wary but with a glimmer of trust. "I'll help you, Kael," she said quietly. "But remember, trust is earned. I'll be watching, and I'll be ready."
Kael nodded, understanding the unspoken challenge in her words. "I wouldn't expect anything less."