When the soft glow of the campfire illuminated the stranger, Catherine was finally able to see her face.

  Standing before her was a young girl, no older than sixteen.

  Her dark hair, as black as a raven’s wing, was pulled back into two thin braids running from her forehead to the nape of her neck. The style left her face fully visible, with no stray strands in the way.

  She had a beautiful oval face, fine brows, and bright, watchful eyes. This eyes looked like two gleaming emeralds, captivating but clearly dangerous.

  The girl’s face was covered in intricate patterns, almost like those found on wild animals. Black lines traced her skin, highlighting her high cheekbones, sharp chin, and a predatory squint. These markings were more than decoration; they helped her blend into the forest, making her seem part of the landscape.

  She wore a simple tunic tied with a belt and a short skirt made of lynx fur. Everything about her clothes, from the rough fabric to the light leather sandals, showed she was practical and able to survive in the wild. A smooth, pale wooden bow hung across her back, plain and without decoration.

  As they silently sized each other up, Catherine’s opinion of her possible opponent grew with each moment. The girl matched her strength, and maybe even surpassed it. This realization was discouraging.

  Fighting was not an option. She would need to be careful and avoid any conflict.

  The huntress was the first to break the drawn-out silence:

  “What a beautiful night, isn’t it?” she said, sitting down opposite the anxious mother—not too far away, yet not too close either.

  Catherine held a brief pause, but still replied:

  “That is true. Truly wonderful,” her voice was gentle, almost sing-song. — “Fufufu, what could be better than admiring the stars on a summer night? Especially… in the company of family.”

  She spoke with perfect politeness and the refined delicacy of a highborn lady. Every word had a subtle meaning. She made it clear she wanted to stay with her children.

  The girl’s smile widened. She seemed to take the words as an invitation. There was irony in her eyes, as if Catherine had solved a riddle without knowing it.

  “Ah, indeed. I’m glad to join your little circle. Big sister, you’re so caring… You don’t mind my company, do you?”

  The mother’s eye twitched slightly. With each moment, it became harder to read the girl. It seemed she understood the hint, but whether she ignored it or not was unclear.

  She didn't like it. She wanted to seize the initiative.

  "Of course not. I've always wanted to see the constellation Ursa. You're familiar with the stars, aren't you?"

  The words were spoken calmly, almost casually. But those who knew that in the Roman Empire The priestesses of Artemis were called Ursas, and they couldn't help but notice the irony.

  “Ahahaha, big sister is quite perceptive. That deserves a drink,” the huntress smirked. She clearly didn't care about revealing her identity.

  She deftly pulled a wineskin from inside her clothes and took a generous swig.

  “Uhh, excellent wine. Want to try some? You look a bit tense.” She had barely finished speaking before the wineskin was already flying toward Catherine.

  The silver-haired beauty did not hesitate. She caught it, uncorked, and inhaled the intoxicating aroma, checking the contents for any impurities.

  The wine was warm and thick, with a sharp, astringent taste. Catherine took several confident gulps. The dark liquid slid down her chin and dripped onto her dress, leaving a damp trail.

  “Fufufu… Not bad wine, sister. Where did you get it? You don’t often come across such a refined taste.”

  “You know, the Province of Endless Forests is famous not only for its wilderness. Our culture is known for its frenzied dances, captivating music, and of course, fine drink. The Muses dwell here, in the company of beautiful dryads. They say Dionysus himself comes here for the best berries for his brews.”

  “I see. It’s quite a peaceful place. One can relax here,” Catherine agreed, glancing at the forest around them.

  “Civilization is overrated, you know.” The huntress took another sip, and her cheeks grew a bit redder. “Nature makes people more honest. And more alive. You feel it too, don’t you?”

  “You don’t speak like a sixteen-year-old girl at all. By the way… what should I call you?”

  The girl tilted her head to the side, her lips stretching into a faint smile.

  “How rude of you, big sister! Before asking a name, shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?”

  “My fault. I’ll drink to that.” Catherine fluttered her lashes as if she were sorry. “Forget it. Let’s leave things as they are. There’s charm in mysteries too, fufufu.”

  Another round for the priestess. Clearly not her day. Catherine could only rely on shamelessness and ignore her own question.

  The girl did not press the matter. Her thoughts were somewhere far away.

  “Ahah, it’s all right, I understand. ‘Drifting namelessly through the world, taking all creation as a game, I shall not ask another’s name!’” — she quoted a line from an old aria, taking the refusal lightly.

  Catherine caught the reference and smiled with a hint of admiration and a trace of gratitude. This “sister” turned out to be remarkably understanding.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Her gaze toward the priestess changed in small ways. The tension that had been hidden under polite words and a careful posture began to fade. Not completely, but enough for her to let out a quiet sigh of relief.

  Wine, night, stars, and pleasant company. What more could one ask for happiness?

  They sat in silence, listening to the swaying leaves and watching the stars through the tree canopy.

  This time, it was Catherine who broke the silence:

  “Little sister, you’re free to wander wherever you please… but tell me honestly—what is someone like you doing alone in such a backwater?”

  “You’re genuinely curious, aren’t you?” the huntress chuckled, without lifting her head.

  Catherine nodded.

  “Well, the story is rather long, yet short at the same time. My foolish brother, a true playboy, started an affair with a girl from some backwater. Nothing unusual—he made grand promises, and when she became pregnant, he simply vanished. Can you imagine?

  That single decision shattered her life. Everyone turned their backs on her. They say she’s almost cursed now. The irony is, she had only him. No one before him, and no one after.

  I felt sorry for her. And so here I am—walking through the night forest to find my sister-in-law abandoned to her fate. So that at least someone would think of her.”

  Catherine remained silent, but her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly.

  The story was painfully familiar, as old as the world itself. A naive girl, ignorant of life. A visitor from another world. Promises. Charm. The illusion that she was the only one. And then… silence. A fate in which no one cares about her point of view.

  Naive girl from a country believes she has met the love of her life, someone who can give her wings. In truth, she is merely being toyed with. Just like that. So simply. So cruelly.

  As a woman, she could not help but sympathize with the heroine of the story.

  “That’s sad. But I’m glad you chose to take care of her. These days, few are willing to bear someone else’s guilt,” Catherine said with a restrained smile. She found herself liking the huntress more and more.

  The huntress raised her gaze, and something meaningful flickered in her eyes…

  “Well, you know… sometimes another person’s guilt becomes far too personal.”

  She was interrupted by a sharp cry.

  “Aaaaaah, NO, please, don’t kill me!” The boy stirred in his sleep.

  Catherine bent over her son and pulled him close. She felt his body trembling. It was easy to see that nightmares were troubling him.

  Biting her lip, she began stroking his hair, whispering quiet words of comfort. Gradually, the boy’s face smoothed out, his breathing grew even.

  The priestess stayed silent, sitting across from them without interfering. A trace of sympathy crossed her eyes, light and almost invisible. She didn’t move a muscle and remained very tactful.

  A minute passed. The fire crackled as if nothing had happened, when she carefully asked:

  “I see something troubles your children. You can tell me, if you wish.”

  “Don’t worry, he’s just been through a lot. A little peace—and everything will settle,” Catherine replied. She truly was worried, but sharing her anxieties with a stranger would have been unnecessary…

  “You have beautiful children, sister. I hope my nephew will be just as charming,” the huntress said with a smirk, nodding at Catherine’s protective posture. “Though I won’t guard him quite so fiercely. Ahahaha.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. My son has no equal—he’s the finest man in the world,” Catherine replied playfully, ignoring the obvious hint.

  “Ahahaha. Well, that’s hard to argue with.”

  She was interrupted by a sleepy murmur:

  “Mom?.. Who is that pretty auntie?” Grey asked, still not fully awake.

  “It’s just a traveler, sweetheart. A lost huntress. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Sleep, my dear.”

  “Your son truly knows how to treat women,” the priestess replied with a sly smile as she stood up. “Well then. The sun will rise any moment now. I must take my leave. But before that, a small gift in honor of our meeting.”

  She slowly removed the quiver from her belt and casually drew out two arrows with patterned fletching.

  “I would leave something for you, but I see you’re more concerned with the children’s safety. Here—one for each of them.”

  Catherine grew slightly wary. The gift was generous—too generous. Ursa’s arrows were no mere trinkets. Each was the result of long rituals, and each carried a fragment of their power. Such generosity was not expected from anyone. Especially not after a chance meeting.

  “Don’t overthink it, little sister,” the priestess said, noticing her look. “I have plenty. This is all I can give you. Don’t be too polite. Who knows, maybe one day these arrows will save their lives.”

  She took a step back, inclined her head slightly, and added:

  “May the blessing of Artemis—the greatest huntress and the kind mother of all beasts—be upon the four of you.”

  Catherine accepted the arrows in silence and, without hesitation, made a returning gesture with her hand. Something glinted between her fingers as she tossed a strange silvery bundle toward the departing guest.

  “Thank you, little sister. Catch—this is my gift in return.”

  The girl caught the silvery bundle without even looking and smirked, as if she had expected the gift all along. Almost hidden by the forest’s shadows, she paused for a moment and glanced at one of the trees.

  “Oh, right. A small piece of advice for the observer: the shadow cast by a campfire should sway.”

  As soon as her figure vanished completely among the trees, the bushes to the right trembled. Cassia slipped out of them soundlessly. The woman whose composure never failed her even among guards now looked slightly… unsettled.

  “W-when did she notice me?” she asked uncertainly.

  “From the very beginning, dear. From the very beginning,” Catherine said, shaking her head. “She may look sixteen, but she mustn’t be underestimated. Priestesses of Artemis are not the church scum from the Province of Light. They’re different. And that one… she’s special even among them.”

  She fell silent for a moment, still staring into the darkness where the mysterious huntress had disappeared.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew who we were from the start. Maybe she came just for amusement. Or to test us. But she’s unlikely to tell anyone.” Catherine finally turned her gaze to Cassia — “Either way, it’s time for us to move. Did you gather everything I asked for?”

  “Yes, my lady, it’s all here,” Cassia replied, handing over a small pouch of korite nuts, resembling chestnuts in appearance.

  “Work on your disguise while I prepare the hair dye. Let the children sleep a little longer. We have a long road ahead. I don’t think we’ll have another chance to rest anytime soon.”

  After giving her instructions, Catherine drew a silvery cauldron from thin air, inlaid with intricate patterns. Its surface gleamed softly in the firelight.

  “Aquamentia,” she whispered, folding her hands into a seal.

  Water obediently filled the vessel, and soon it was resting on the coals, warmed by the slow breath of the heat. It was time to recall Grandmother Cornelia’s lessons in alchemy.

  Catherine crushed the fruits in her palms, grinding them into powder. The process required physical strength—but who was Catherine? She was a Sky-Born (7). Her movements were smooth, yet brimming with power.

  Without unnecessary haste, she brought the powder to the proper consistency. Then she poured it into the warmed water and added a viscous herbal juice. The mixture hissed and bubbled, filling the air with a sharp, herbal scent.

  The fruits gradually boiled down and thickened. The mass took on a rich color, its texture resembling a soft cream.

  With satisfaction, Catherine stirred the dye and added a little olive oil—something she had prepared even before the recent encounter. Even on the run, she refused to neglect care: her daughter’s hair deserved the gentlest treatment.

  When everything was ready, she set the cauldron aside and paused for a second, considering how to present this to the children. Letting out a soft sigh, she approached the sleeping twins. They lay peacefully, pressed against each other, so fragile and warm.

  Then she poured the resulting mixture into heated water. Catherine added freshly squeezed herbal juice with unique properties—where she had obtained it was another question. The juice was added gradually, so as not to disturb the balance of the ingredients.

  The mother bent down, ran her fingers through their hair, and whispered tenderly:

  “My darlings, it’s time to wake up. Do you remember our game? I’ve prepared everything. You wouldn’t leave Mommy to play alone, would you?”

  The children stirred in their sleep, frowned slightly, but did not wake yet. Catherine did not rush—she knew how to be patient.