The Great Forest greeted them with gloom and coolness.
Ancient trees towered dozens of meters high, their crowns weaving together into a dense canopy overhead. Sunlight from the setting sun barely pierced through the thick foliage, casting faint golden shafts onto the forest floor. The air smelled of moss, mushrooms, and something wild—primordial. A scent that had never existed in the scorched steppes, and certainly not in the prim, stuffy halls of Eichenwald.
The caravan stretched out in a long ribbon, winding its way deeper into the forest. It was no longer the pitiful remnants of a battered detachment. Mia’s people had been joined by Björn’s warriors, and now the column stretched for hundreds of meters. Beastfolk of all kinds—wolves, lynxes, bears, badgers, and even several massive boars—moved between the trees with the natural confidence of those born in these woods.
Amanda rode in the middle of the column.
A black figure on a black horse, red lenses staring straight ahead, hand resting on the hilt of her sword. She tried to remain inconspicuous, but it was impossible. Too many eyes were fixed on her. Too many voices whispered behind her back.
“…Is that him? The one they’re talking about?”
“…They say he cut down fifteen of the Khan’s dogs with a single swing of his sword…”
“…Bullshit, no way…”
“…Mia said it herself. And she doesn’t lie…”
“…Look, he won’t even take off his helmet. Must have a hideous face…”
“…Or maybe it’s too beautiful. Those are the ones people usually hide…”
Amanda clenched her teeth and tried to ignore it.
“They’re talking about you,” Torglin whispered from the right. The dwarf, nearly invisible, rode level with her.
“I can hear them,” she replied just as quietly.
“It’s not enough to just hear,” the dwarf’s voice grew tense. “Look left. Three of them. They’ve been following you for half an hour already.”
Amanda glanced sideways under her helmet. To the left, between the trees, three figures were indeed moving. Or rather, three beastfolk — all males, all young, and all with well-developed muscles that rippled visibly beneath their clothing.
The first was a wolf — gray, wiry, with yellow eyes that never left her back. The second was a lynx, more graceful but no less dangerous, with tufts on his ears and a strange, feline elegance. The third was a bear — young, yet already massive, with broad shoulders and a chest that looked powerful enough to shatter any armor.
They made no effort to hide their interest. On the contrary, they were drawing closer, and something in their gazes made Amanda deeply uneasy.
A challenge.
“They want to test you,” Leo whispered from her left. “You heard what the warriors are saying? ‘If he’s really that strong, let him prove it.’”
“I don’t owe anyone any proof.”
“Here — you do,” Torglin’s voice was grim. “Beastfolk, girl. They only respect strength. If you want to walk among them, you have to show you’re not weak.”
“I don’t want to walk among them. I’m just passing through.”
“You’re Björn’s brother now,” the dwarf reminded her. “And the brother of a chieftain cannot be weak. Otherwise, he shames the entire clan.”
Amanda swore silently to herself. She hadn’t asked for this. She didn’t want it. But Björn’s bear hug had already made her part of this world — whether she liked it or not.
Mia, riding ahead with her father, suddenly turned around. It was as if she had sensed the tension hanging in the air. Her gaze slid over the three warriors trailing Amanda, and her ears flattened against her head.
“Father,” she said, “your wolf pups are breathing too loudly.”
Björn, without turning, smirked.
“The young ones always want to see who’s stronger,” he rumbled. “It’s normal. Let them look.”
“They’re provoking him,” Mia’s voice carried a metallic edge.
“And him?” Björn glanced over his shoulder at the black figure. “Will he answer?”
“He’s not looking for conflict.”
“Then that’s a shame,” the chieftain shook his head. “In our clan, anyone who doesn’t answer a challenge is considered weak. Even if he saved my daughter.”
Mia frowned but said nothing. She slowed her horse, letting her father ride ahead, and a moment later fell in beside Amanda.
“Don’t pay them any mind,” she said softly. “They’re just testing the boundaries.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re lying,” she smiled, but there was no trace of her usual playfulness in it. “I can see how tense you are. And your hand is on your sword.”
Amanda didn’t reply. She really was gripping the hilt, and her fingers tightened every time the wolf or the lynx came too close.
“Reaper,” Mia lightly touched his arm. Almost weightlessly. “Don’t. They won’t attack first. That’s not how we do things.”
“Then what are your rules?”
“A challenge,” she said. “If someone wants to test your strength, they will challenge you. Openly. In front of everyone. And then you must accept it or leave.”
“And if I leave?”
“Then you’re weak,” she answered simply. “And no one will respect you.”
“I don’t need your respect.”
“You do now,” she squeezed his arm a little harder. “You’re my father’s brother. That means you’re part of the clan. Whether you want to be or not. And no one in the clan can be weak.”
Amanda looked at her through the red lenses. Mia stared back, and there was no playfulness in her eyes. Only truth.
“I’m not weak,” Amanda said in a steely voice from beneath the Reaper’s helmet, deliberately deepening it to sound like a man and avoid any suspicion that she was actually a woman in armor. “I know you’re strong,” Mia smiled. “That’s exactly why they’re watching. They want to see just how strong you are. And so do I.”
“You?”
“Of course,” she tilted her head, her ears twitching slightly. “I already told my father that you’re mine. And my warrior can’t be weaker than the others.”
She said it so simply, so naturally, that Amanda was left speechless.
Mia laughed, released his arm, and rode forward, leaving Amanda to process what she had just heard.
“Torglin,” Amanda whispered.
“Yes, girl.”
“She’s going to kill me.”
“She won’t kill you,” the dwarf’s voice sounded thoughtful. “But it looks like she wants to marry you. And that, let me tell you, is scarier than any death.”
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“Shut up!”
“Quiet, quiet,” he chuckled. “You’d better keep an eye on those warriors. They won’t back off so easily.”
And they didn’t back off.
The entire way through the forest, Amanda felt their eyes on her. The wolf, the lynx, and the bear followed her like shadows, shifting positions, sometimes drawing closer, sometimes falling back. Other warriors glanced her way too, but these three were the most persistent.
Especially the bear.
He was young, yet already enormous — broader in the shoulders than Björn himself, with arms that looked strong enough to wrap around the trunk of a young tree. His head was round, with small bear ears and deep-set eyes that burned with a strange, intense fire. He never took his gaze off Amanda, and there was something heavy and oppressive in that stare.
“They say he killed fifteen men with a single swing of his sword,” the bear growled to his companions. “Let’s see how he looks when I snap his blade in half.”
“Tor, don’t start,” the wolf replied. “She said he’s hers. You really want trouble with Mia?”
“I want to see who he really is,” the bear — Tor — bared his teeth. “Not just some guy hiding in iron and fairy tales.”
Amanda heard every word. And she felt the tension rising.
“Torglin,” she called softly.
“Right here.”
“This bear… is he serious?”
“Very,” the dwarf paused. “I know the type. He wants to prove he’s stronger than you. Because you saved Mia. And apparently, he had his eyes on her.”
“Perfect,” Amanda sighed. “Just perfect.”
By evening, they reached the main camp of the Forest Clan.
It was nothing like Amanda had expected. Instead of temporary campsites or hastily built shelters, a true fortress unfolded before her — grown into the forest itself, built from living trees and stone. Houses hung from the branches of giant oaks, connected by bridges and stairways. Down below on the ground, bonfires blazed, meat sizzled, and life hummed with energy.
Hundreds of beastfolk filled the camp. They emerged from houses, descended from the trees, and stepped out of the forest to greet their chieftain. And every one of them stared at the black figure riding beside Mia.
“Is that him? The Reaper himself?”
“Look, he still hasn’t taken off his helmet…”
“They say he killed fifteen of the Khan’s dogs…”
“You’re lying!”
“Ask Mia. She saw it herself…”
Amanda tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword. It felt like she was standing in an arena while hundreds of eyes devoured her, measuring and weighing her worth.
“Don’t be afraid,” Mia whispered, leaning toward her. “They’re just looking. No one will touch you.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Of course not,” she smirked. “You’re the Reaper.”
She slid off her horse and, with a strangely possessive air, took Amanda by the hand to help her dismount. Amanda hadn’t asked for help, but Mia was already holding her fingers, and pulling away would have looked odd.
“Come on,” Mia said, not releasing her hand. “I’ll show you where we’ll be feasting.”
She led her through the camp, and Amanda could feel the gazes following them. Mia’s hand in hers — warm, strong, and confident — felt like a declaration. For everyone. For those who were watching. For anyone who might doubt.
“She’s showing them that I’m hers,” Amanda realized. “That I’m under her protection.”
It felt strange. And yet… familiar. Here she was being led by the hand like someone precious.
“Torglin,” she whispered.
“Yes, girl.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I know,” the dwarf’s voice was thoughtful. “But do you trust her?”
Amanda looked at Mia — at her silver hair, at her ears that constantly twitched, catching every sound, at her tail swaying in time with her steps. At the hand firmly holding her fingers.
“I do,” she said, and it was the truth.
“Then don’t let go,” the dwarf advised. “At least for now.”
The feast began at sunset.
Huge bonfires blazed across the clearing, illuminating hundreds of faces. The beastfolk drank, ate, laughed, and sang songs in their guttural language. The air smelled of roasted meat, herbal infusions, and something wild and primordial.
Amanda sat to Björn’s right — a place that clearly announced her status to everyone. Mia sat on her left, and her tail kept brushing against the black armor, as if checking to make sure the Reaper hadn’t vanished.
“Drink!” Björn thrust a massive horn filled with dark, fragrant liquid toward her. “You’re my brother, and brothers drink together!”
“I don’t drink,” Amanda said.
“Tonight you do!” the chieftain laughed, his voice booming like thunder. “This is mead! The drink of warriors! Refusing it insults the clan!”
“Father,” Mia intervened, “he made a vow. He doesn’t remove his helmet, he doesn’t drink, he doesn’t—”
“A vow?” Björn frowned. “What kind of vow?”
“A personal one,” Mia said quickly. “He’s a warrior-hermit. There are such people.”
The chieftain stared at Amanda — at the Reaper — for a long moment. Then he nodded.
“Fine,” he took a deep swig from the horn himself. “Then you’ll watch how real warriors drink. And remember how true warriors celebrate!”
He raised the horn, and hundreds of voices roared in response. The feast flared up in earnest.
Amanda sat motionless, trying not to draw attention. But it was impossible. Warriors approached her, stared, whispered. Some with respect, some with clear challenge. Especially those three — the wolf, the lynx, and the bear.
They sat opposite her at another fire, and the bear — Tor — never took his eyes off her. There was something heavy and oppressive in his gaze. He drank the mead in large gulps, and every time the horn lowered, he looked at Amanda with open provocation.
“Don’t look at him,” Mia whispered, leaning close to Amanda’s ear. “He’s provoking you.”
“I see that.”
“He wanted to be mine,” Mia said without a trace of embarrassment. “Even before you appeared. He thought he was the strongest, that he deserved me. Then you came and saved me. Now he’s furious.”
“I didn’t ask him to be furious.”
“I know,” she smiled. “That’s one of the reasons I like you.”
Her hand settled on his knee. Lightly. Naturally. As if she had every right to do so.
Amanda froze.
“Mia,” she said, her voice dropping even lower.
“Yes?”
“Your hand.”
“What about it?” Mia didn’t remove it. Her fingers tightened slightly.
“Remove it.”
Mia leaned even closer, her lips almost touching Amanda’s ear so no one else could hear:
“I don’t want to. You’re mine. And everyone needs to see it. You’re mine!”
Amanda opened her mouth to respond, but she didn’t get the chance.
“Mia!” Tor’s voice rolled across the clearing like thunder. The bear rose to his feet, his massive frame blocking the bonfire. “Your Reaper is too quiet! Let him show what he’s really capable of!”
Silence fell over the gathering. Hundreds of eyes turned toward the black figure.
“Tor,” Mia’s voice turned ice-cold. “Sit down.”
“I want to see his strength!” the bear took a step forward. “You say he killed fifteen of the Khan’s dogs? Then let him prove it! Here and now!”
“He won’t fight you,” Mia stood up, her tail stiffening, ears flattening against her head. “Sit down, I said.”
“Or is he weak?” Tor bared his teeth. “Or maybe you’re lying and no one was saved at all? Perhaps it was your own warriors who killed those Khan’s dogs, and you just want to glorify some outsider?”
The air grew heavy. The warriors froze, looking between Tor, Mia, and the motionless black figure.
“You want to test my strength?” Amanda asked, fully slipping into the Reaper’s persona.
The voice that emerged from the helmet was metallic and ice-cold, completely devoid of emotion.
Tor turned to face her.
“I do,” he growled. “Step forward. Show me you’re not a coward.”
Amanda rose slowly. Her black cloak swayed, and the red lenses of her helmet flashed with crimson fire in the light of the bonfires.
“I will kill you,” she said.
The silence became absolute. Even Björn froze with the horn halfway to his mouth.
“First, I’ll break your arms. Then your legs. And when you finally understand how badly you were mistaken, I’ll slit your throat. Slowly.”
She took a step forward. The black figure moved toward him, and something in her movement made the warriors instinctively part before her.
“No one calls me a coward.”
Tor staggered back. His eyes widened. He opened his mouth to reply — but no words came out. They stuck in his throat.
He stared at the red lenses, at the hand resting on the sword hilt, and he saw the truth: she wasn’t bluffing. She would kill him. Right here. Right now. And no one — not even Björn — would be fast enough to stop her.
His hand, which had been reaching for his weapon, froze halfway.
“Sit down, Tor,” Björn’s voice rang out quietly, yet carried undeniable authority. “You started this. You lost.”
Tor looked at his chieftain. Then back at the black figure. His jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth audibly ground together.
He sat down.
“A fine feast!” Björn raised his horn high. “Drink, warriors! Today my brother showed that he is worthy to be part of the Forest Clan!”
A roar of approval swept across the clearing. Warriors clashed their cups, howled, and laughed. The tension finally eased.
Amanda slowly lowered herself back into her seat. Her heart was pounding in her throat, her hands were trembling, but no one could see it. Only the black armor and the glowing red lenses remained visible.
“You were magnificent, Reaper,” Mia whispered, leaning close to her. She had no idea that beneath the Reaper’s armor was a woman named Amanda. “I thought you were going to hit him. But you… you just used words. You killed him with words.”
“I didn’t want to fight.”
“I know,” Mia took her hand. “That’s exactly why you won.”
She didn’t let go. She sat right beside her, fingers intertwined with the black gauntlet, and Amanda didn’t pull away.
“Torglin,” she whispered.
“Yes, girl.”
“What did I just do?”
“You, girl,” the dwarf’s voice sounded strange, “you just became a chieftain.”
“What?”
“You showed that you can stand up for yourself. In front of the entire clan. In front of Björn. You threw down a challenge for leadership.”
Amanda froze.
“I didn’t… I just…”
“You simply said what was in your heart,” Torglin’s voice was serious. “And here, girl, such words are not spoken lightly. Björn heard it. Everyone heard it. And Björn didn’t object.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” the dwarf paused, “that if you want to, you can become the chieftain of the Forest Clan. And Björn won’t stand in your way.”
Amanda looked at the chieftain. He sat at the head of the table, drinking mead and laughing, but his gaze kept returning to her. There was no threat in it. Only something else.
Appraisal.
And approval.
“I don’t want to be chieftain. I just want to find my brother,” Amanda whispered.
“I know,” Torglin replied. “But now you know that you could be one.”
Mia squeezed her hand, drawing her attention.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, peering into the red lenses.
“About how deep I’m in,” Amanda answered honestly.
Mia laughed. Her silver tail swayed, and she shifted even closer, almost pressing her shoulder against the black pauldron.
“Deep in,” she agreed. “But now you’re mine. And I don’t let go of what I consider mine.”
She said it with a smile, but her eyes burned with that same fierce fire Amanda had seen in the steppe — when Mia had fought desperately for the life of the old man who wasn’t even her real father.
“What have I done…” Amanda thought.
But she didn’t pull her hand away.