On the sixth day of their journey, the steppe began to change. The grass grew taller, the air beca damper, and on the horizon a dark line of forest finally appeared. The Great Forest, as the locals called it — a vast expanse that stretched for hundreds of miles and allowed them to cut nearly a week off the journey to Kara-Shahar.
“We’ll be safe there,” Mia said, riding up to Amanda. Her voice was calm, but sothing strange flickered in her eyes. Excitent? Anticipation? “The Khan’s dogs don’t dare enter the Great Forest. Those are our lands.”
“Ours?” Amanda echoed.
“Our kin,” Mia corrected herself a little too quickly. “Those who live in the forest. We’ve arranged to et them at the edge.”
Amanda didn’t press further. Over the past few days she had grown used to the fact that Mia knew these lands better than anyone. The girl led the caravan with confidence, avoiding dangerous areas, and Amanda had almost stopped asking questions.
Almost.
“Your father,” she said, nodding toward the old chieftain riding at the front. “He’s holding up well for soone wounded.”
“He’s strong,” Mia smiled, but the smile seed… off sohow. “He’s been through a lot.”
“How old is he?”
“Old,” she answered evasively. “We beastfolk live longer than humans. It’s hard to keep count.”
She spurred her horse and rode ahead, leaving Amanda with yet another unanswered question.
“Sothing’s not right here,” Torglin whispered, invisible, riding to her right.
“I noticed,” Amanda replied just as quietly. “She’s nervous. She keeps looking at the forest too much.”
“Could be an ambush?”
“I don’t know. Stay ready.”
“Always, girl.”
The forest drew closer. A massive wall of ancient trees whose crowns reached high into the sky, blocking half the heavens. A chill and dampness rolled out from it — a sharp contrast to the scorched steppe. The path they followed led straight toward a dark opening between the trunks — the entrance to the vast woodland.
Mia raised her hand, halting the caravan.
“I’ll go first,” she said. “I’ll warn our people.”
“I’m coming with you,” Amanda said, touching her reins.
“No,” Mia turned sharply. For the first ti in all their days together, steel rang in her voice. “You stay here. This… is our custom. Outsiders cannot enter the forest without an invitation.”
Amanda froze. In all the days of their journey, Mia had never spoken to her in that tone before.
“How long should we wait?”
“Not long,” the girl smiled, but once again there was sothing strange in that smile. “Don’t get bored, Reaper.”
She spurred her horse and vanished into the shadows of the forest. Two warriors from her group followed her — the ones with tiger stripes. The rest remained where they were, and Amanda noticed how nervously they kept glancing at one another.
“Torglin,” she called softly.
“Here.”
“Watch them. If anything happens — we act.”
“And if Mia…”
“If Mia has betrayed us,” Amanda’s voice turned to ice, “you know what to do.”
“I know, girl. I know.”
The wait didn’t last long. Barely three minutes later, the sound of many hooves thundered out from the forest. The ground trembled.
Riders burst from the shadows of the trees.
Dozens of them. Hundreds.
Amanda’s hand flew to her sword. Leo and Torglin, invisible, froze in combat stance, ready to start cutting at any mont. But what happened next left her standing with her mouth open.
They were beastfolk.
Dozens — perhaps hundreds — of beastfolk. Wolves, lynxes, tigers, bears — all of them riding out of the forest, armor and weapons gleaming. This wasn’t a detachnt. This was an army. Their faces were grim, their eyes burned with battle fury, but when they saw Mia and her people, the tension shattered into laughter and joyous shouts.
And at the very front, mounted on a massive black stallion, sat a man.
He was enormous. Not just tall — massive, like a living boulder. Broad shoulders, a powerful chest, arms thick as an ordinary man’s thigh. Even on horseback he radiated unstoppable strength. His face was harsh and scarred, frad by a thick dark beard streaked with gray. Round, powerful bear ears jutted from his head, constantly twitching, catching every sound. Beneath his cloak, a short but incredibly thick tail was visible.
This was a chieftain. A true one.
And Mia, who had ridden out of the forest beside him, was laughing.
“Father!” she cried, rushing toward him. Her voice rang with a happiness Amanda had never heard from her before. “Father, we did it — you see?”
She leapt from her horse and threw herself into his arms. The huge bear-warrior embraced her, pulling her close, and for a mont his stern face softened, almost tender. He growled sothing low and guttural into the top of her head — full of love and relief.
“Mia,” he said in a voice that sounded like a rockslide. “You’re safe. Our people are safe.”
“I’m safe, Father,” she pulled back, beaming. “Everyone’s safe. Almost everyone…” Her voice faltered, but she quickly steadied herself. “We lost six. The Khan’s dogs attacked us in the steppe.”
“I know,” the chieftain’s voice grew harder. “The ravens told us. We were coming for you, but you were too far ahead. I thought…”
He didn’t finish. Instead, he pulled his daughter into another embrace. There was so much raw strength and tenderness in the gesture that sothing tightened in Amanda’s chest.
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Then the chieftain’s gaze fell upon her.
The chieftain’s gaze settled on the black figure frozen on horseback twenty paces away. On the red lenses staring straight at him. On the black sword she still hadn’t sheathed.
He gently moved Mia aside but didn’t let her go. His dark brown, almost black eyes narrowed.
“Who is that?” he asked, and his voice beca dangerous. His bear ears pressed flat against his head — a gesture Amanda had already learned to recognize. Assessnt. Threat.
Mia turned, looked at Amanda, and that familiar smile appeared on her lips — sly, satisfied, and distinctly wolfish.
“This is the Reaper, Father,” she said. “The one who saved us. He appeared out of nowhere, cut down a dozen and a half of the Khan’s dogs with a single swing of his sword, and has been riding with us ever since. He’s looking for Kaelan.”
“Reaper,” the chieftain repeated.
He released Mia and slowly, unhurriedly, guided his horse toward Amanda. His warriors parted before him, and every glance they threw at the black figure was filled with tension. So placed hands on their weapons. Others growled quietly.
Amanda sat motionless. Beneath her helt, her heart hamred sowhere in her throat. She looked at this bear-warrior, at his raw power, at the army standing behind him, and realized that sothing very important — and very dangerous — was happening right now.
The chieftain stopped in front of her. He dismounted. And only then did Amanda fully realize how enormous he was. Even her large warhorse looked like a pony next to this man-bear. He towered over her, blocking out the sky, and sothing primal burned in his eyes.
He stared at her for a long ti. Very long. Assessing. Sniffing — Amanda could see his nostrils flaring, his ears twitching to catch every sound coming from her armor.
“You saved my daughter,” he said. Not a question. A statent.
“I was killing enemies,” Amanda replied in her tallic voice. “She happened to be nearby.”
“Modest,” the chieftain chuckled. There was no mockery in the sound — only approval. “So you’re a good warrior? We like that kind.”
He stared at her. Amanda could feel sweat trickling down her back, every muscle tensed to its limit, while Leo and Torglin stood frozen at her sides, ready for battle at any second.
Then the chieftain smiled.
It wasn’t the kind of smile Amanda was used to seeing on human faces. It was a wide, open bear’s grin, revealing massive fangs that glead in the sunlight. Yet there was no threat in it. Only approval. Recognition.
“You saved my blood,” he said. “You led my people across the steppe. You asked for no reward. You demanded nothing.”
He took a step forward. Amanda inwardly braced herself but didn’t move.
“In my clan, there is a law,” the chieftain continued. “Whoever saves the life of the chieftain or his blood becos a brother. Not by blood — by spirit.”
He spread his arms.
Before Amanda could process what was happening, two enormous bear paws closed around her.
She was yanked out of the saddle like a straw doll.
The world flipped upside down — for a split second she was weightless in the air, and then she was crushed against the chieftain’s chest so hard that her bones creaked. The mithril-orichalcum armor, which could withstand a battering ram, groaned pitifully under the inhuman pressure.
Amanda couldn’t breathe.
Her lungs collapsed, her ribs scread in protest, and if not for the mithril holding its shape, she would have been flattened into a pancake. The air was forced out of her chest in a quiet wheeze that, thankfully, was muffled by her helt.
“Brother!” the chieftain’s voice thundered right beside her ear. “From this day forward, you are a brother of the Forest Clan!”
He shook her like a bear cub, and Amanda felt her feet leave the ground entirely. Joyful shouts erupted all around — the beastfolk cheered their chieftain’s decision. Swords thrust into the air, soone beat on drums, and wolfish howls rose into the sky.
Amanda hung helplessly in the bear’s embrace, limp as a ragdoll, desperately trying to draw breath. One single thought hamred in her head:
“He’s going to crush . He’s actually going to crush .”
“Father!” Mia’s voice cut through the noise, a mix of laughter and indignation. “You’ll suffocate him!”
“Let him get used to it!” the chieftain bood. “My brother must be strong!”
He finally loosened his grip, and Amanda dropped to the ground, barely managing to stay on her feet. Air rushed into her lungs, and she coughed harshly — the tallic sound escaping from her helt like the scrape of iron.
“I… I’m fine,” she rasped.
“Good voice!” the chieftain bood, clapping her on the shoulder so hard she nearly stumbled again. “Iron, just like the rest of you!”
He turned to his people and raised his arm high.
“Listen! From this day on, this warrior is my brother! Whoever touches him touches ! Whoever betrays him betrays the Forest Clan!”
A roar of approval swept through the ranks of beastfolk. So howled, so growled, so laughed. Amanda stood there swaying, still trying to process what had just happened.
I just beca the brother of a bear. A brother. Of a bear who nearly squashed like a grape.
Mia approached her father, her tail wagging wildly with delight. She rose onto her tiptoes, pulled the huge chieftain’s head down, and whispered sothing into his ear.
Amanda watched her lips move. She saw the chieftain’s ears twitch, catching every word. She saw his eyebrows climb higher and higher.
She couldn’t hear a single word.
But she saw the chieftain shift his gaze from Mia to her. She saw sothing new ignite in his eyes — interest mixed with surprise. She saw him slap his daughter on the back so hard she nearly lost her balance. She saw Mia step back, beaming, her tail swaying side to side and her ears standing straight up.
Then the chieftain looked at Amanda. For a long ti. A very long ti.
“Hm,” he said. “We’ll see.”
Mia walked over to Amanda. Sothing new shone in her eyes — triumph mixed with sothing deeper. She stopped just one step away and looked straight into the red lenses.
“Now you are a brother of the Forest Clan,” she said quietly, so no one else could hear. “That ans a lot. To my father. To .”
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“I know,” she smiled. “That’s exactly why you received it.”
She reached out and touched his pauldron. Lightly. Almost weightlessly. Amanda didn’t pull away. She simply stood there, looking at this girl with wolf ears and amber eyes who had accepted her — a strange outsider sealed in black armor — as one of her own.
“What did you say to your father?” Amanda asked.
Mia froze. Her tail stopped moving. Her ears flattened slightly.
“Why? Are you curious?”
“I saw how his expression changed.”
Mia was silent for a mont. Then she smiled — sly and wolfish.
“I told him you’re the best find we’ve had in years,” she paused, her eyes locking with the red lenses. “And that I won’t let you simply walk away.”
She turned and walked back toward her father, leaving Amanda standing motionless.
Amanda watched her go. Her head was ringing. Her chest still ached from the bear’s crushing embrace. And sowhere deep inside, a cold, sticky realization began to take root.
“Torglin,” she called softly.
“Here, girl.”
“What was that? What did she say to her father?”
The gno was silent for a mont. Then he sighed.
“I didn’t hear it, girl. She whispered straight into his ear. I was three steps away.”
“But you saw.”
“I saw,” Torglin’s voice grew softer. “And I can guess. She said sothing about you. And Bjorn… got very interested. Then he slapped her on the back like… well, like a father who approves of his daughter’s choice.”
Amanda slowly sank to the ground. Her legs wouldn’t hold her.
“Approves of her choice,” she repeated.
“I told you, girl. That she-wolf has been hunting you. And now she’s got an ally — a bear who just called you his brother.”
“But I… I’m…”
“She doesn’t know, girl. She thinks you’re a man. A mysterious, strong man who saved her. And she wants you to stay.”
Amanda covered her face with her hands. The helt hid her from everyone, but beneath it her cheeks burned, her heart hamred, and the world seed to be collapsing around her.
“This is a catastrophe,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“If I refuse… they’ll realize sothing’s wrong. A warrior looking for allies doesn’t turn down an alliance with a chieftain. But if I agree…”
She fell silent.
“If you agree, you’ll have to undress,” Torglin finished for her. “At least on the wedding night.”
Amanda clenched her fists.
“This isn’t just a catastrophe,” her voice trembled with barely contained fury and panic. “This is…”
“This, girl,” Torglin sighed, “is what they call ‘digging your own grave and then sitting down in it.’”
“You’re not helping.”
“What can I do? Tell the truth? ‘Sorry, chieftain, your new brother is actually your sister, and she won’t be marrying your daughter because she already has the heir of Aichenwald waiting for her up north’?”
Amanda stayed silent. Because he was right. She couldn’t tell the truth. She couldn’t refuse outright. She couldn’t agree.
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” the gno answered honestly. “But I suggest you co up with sothing fast. Because that she-wolf, girl… she’s not joking.”
Amanda lifted her head and looked at Mia, who stood beside her father, telling him sothing, laughing, and occasionally glancing in her direction.
Mia caught her gaze and smiled — bright, open, and disarmingly warm. There was so much genuine affection in that smile that it stole Amanda’s breath.
Randel, she thought. What have I done?
Far to the north, the heir of Aichenwald was already wandering the forests alone, searching for his guardian.
Amanda didn’t know that.
She only looked at Mia, who was smiling at her over her shoulder, and could think of just one thing.
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