It was only thanks to Sha’dru calling out to her from time to time that Gra’sha maintained any semblance of focus. The sheer volume of available spiritual energy was too great; she felt urged to reach for more and more, even when she tried to resist. She felt she was on the verge of slipping into a trance like yesterday, but she somehow held back, dealing death to the enemies at the forefront of the defense.

  Suddenly, the attack collapsed. They broke the enemy line and pushed them back, eventually right onto the vines themselves. A few individual opponents managed to retreat and break into a run; the rest fell to arrows and other projectiles launched by the few shooters stationed high enough. Before Gra’sha and her companions could climb up to see what was happening, three short horn blasts rang out from the enemy camp. The signal to retreat.

  From the top, they could see that no fresh units were approaching from the enemy camp in the distance; on the contrary, they were striking camp, apparently intending to withdraw. Gra’sha scanned the area with her hawk-like gaze and spotted the shaman in the distance, disappearing behind the tree line with a small escort. Has he abandoned them? Have they lost hope of victory? she wondered.

  "Capture them!" Sha’dru shouted.

  The warrior looked around, and indeed, lone orcs of the enemy clan were running toward the camp, desperate to get away from the stronghold. The girl chased after them, quickly pulled ahead, and slammed her heavy shield into the back of the nearest one's head. He fell flat; she had tried to curb the force of the blow and didn't hear the crack of bone, so she hoped he was simply unconscious.

  The rest fled under the cover of a warning volley from the enemy camp. The Wolf Rock warriors abandoned the pursuit, taking with them the one Gra’sha had secured. The group moved toward the palisade. Gra’sha stayed a moment longer, observing the movements in the opponent's camp. There was some commotion and disorder, but as she couldn’t grasp what exactly was happening, she chalked it up to their lack of discipline. After a long moment, she jogged back to the others. They climbed the vines created by the shamanic spell and delivered the prisoner into the hands of their kinsmen. He was taken immediately to command, still unconscious. Few were interested in him, however.

  Wolf Rock cast a long shadow; the sun was already high in the sky. The crowd surged, loud with cheers and shouts of joy at the victory. Gra’sha couldn’t take half a step without someone patting her on the back or shoulders. Many warriors had been close enough to the defense line to see with their own eyes how she dominated the fight. They threw words of appreciation and respectful nods in her direction.

  She, however, was still carried by the current of the battle. The storm in her heart and the energy within her were churning. She was like a horse that cannot slow down after a mad gallop. She began to push her way to the edge of the crowd, and only after a few minutes did she manage to step aside. She stopped at the back of a nearby hut, took a few deep breaths, and sat down on the sparse grass. The shouts were slowly dying down as everyone set about gathering the wounded and looting the defeated. Nothing went to waste in the Great Marches.

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  Sha’dru found her right there. The girl was resting her forehead against her shield. She called to her gently, "Gra’sha, are you alright?"

  The young warrior raised her shining eyes and feverish face. "I feel strange," she replied. If a few days ago she imagined that the spiritual energy she had gathered was inside her like a cloud, slowly growing to fall as rain and nourish her body, now she felt a storm forming.

  Sha’dru reached out and helped her stand, asking with a note of concern, "Are you wounded somewhere?"

  "No," she replied quickly once she was up. "I need to lie down; it’s probably like that time on the wagon. Too much..."

  Sha’dru caught her by the arm, took her shield and spear, and suggested, "My place is closer; you can rest a bit, maybe take a nap?"

  The girl only hummed in agreement, and together they went to Sha’dru’s house. The warrior felt dizzy, and the storm inside her was growing. The hostess helped her take off her armor and wash up superficially before she lay down on the bedding, where she quickly fell asleep, tossing and turning as if in a delirium.

  The older warrior kept watch over her young friend, wiping sweat from her forehead with a cold, wet cloth. She had witnessed her losing consciousness after battle on the road; this time looked worse, true, but since she wasn't bleeding or foaming at the mouth, it didn't require a goblin field surgeon. Besides, with this number of wounded, she wouldn't have found one anyway. She changed out of her battle gear and ate hastily, not taking her eyes off her young companion.

  Gra’sha had a dream. A giant eagle dived to snatch her; initially, it was as big as a mountain, her fate seemingly sealed. However, the closer it got, the bigger she became. So much so that when it struck her, it was like a sparrow chick that she caught in one hand. After a short moment, she released it to freedom, and the creature flew off.

  The girl woke up when it was quite dark. It crossed her mind that she must have slept through the whole day and part of the night. At first glance, it seemed that nothing was wrong with her. On the contrary, she felt reborn. Her senses were sharpened, reaching further than before, flooding her with a wave of information about sounds, vibrations, and smells like never before. It was an exciting but somewhat disturbing discovery.

  Sha’dru was sleeping next to her, half-sitting. Gra’sha, who had been lying on her lap, slowly rose. She heard, or perhaps sensed, the quiet beating of her older companion's heart speeding up—a sign she was about to wake. And so it happened. Gra’sha offered a warm smile when Sha'dru focused her gaze on her.

  "I see you're better already; feeling well?" she asked in a sleepy voice, rubbing her eyelid.

  "Perfectly. I’ve never felt better!" she replied briskly.

  Sha’dru snorted cheerfully and shook her head. "I was scared for you, for the second time already!"

  "Thank you," she answered more seriously, pressing her forehead to Sha'dru's in a familiar gesture. Sha’dru froze for a brief moment, but then reciprocated, stroking the girl on the back of the head.

  "So, maybe there won't be a third time?" she asked without reproach, letting the girl go.

  "I hope so, but I promise nothing," Gra'sha replied, standing up. Although nothing ailed her now, her body had fought a second battle in her sleep; she was wet with feverish sweat. She stretched, joints popping. Resting her hands on her hips, she asked, "Do you have a bite to eat?"

  "Ha, you're definitely better," Sha'dru declared, amused. She stood up and went to the hearth. "I'll prepare something."

  Gra’sha threw off her wet clothes, washed in a bowl, and borrowed a simple tunic. When she sat down, something was already sizzling on the fire. They ate, pleased with the victory, their survival, and the warm meal. Gra’sha exaggerated her enjoyment with hums and faces until they were both laughing.

  In her spirit, she realized that whatever path she had entered weeks ago, she had just taken several large steps forward.