Thalira Estom, 17, Human-Hybrid Dryadkin (Wildborn)
"Praise Lior."
The words rolled off Thalira's tongue in quiet unison with the women around her. It had been six days since they had fled the men, leaving the oppressive grove behind, and ventured deeper into the forest. Each day had been a struggle—but now, with Cloud acting as their guide, they had finally found a place that felt... safe.
A place that could belong to them.
Cloud had pulled a map from his fur and pointed to a patch of unclaimed territory. A blank stretch of land, untouched and unnamed. The women were still weak, their bodies thin and cautious, and so Thalira decided they would first settle within the southern reaches of Amorian. According to the Crescentian legend, only those chosen by the earth itself could find sanctuary there. And I have been chosen, she thought quietly, letting the familiar surge of connection hum through her veins.
"Tha—Thaira!"
A small boy came running, feet kicking up fallen leaves and twigs. Emish, just four years old, wrapped his tiny arms around her leg. His face was smudged with dirt, hair tangled, but the look in his eyes was pure trust. After losing his parents during the raids, Thalira had taken him under her wing. She bent down and ruffled his hair gently, feeling a pang of protectiveness that made her chest tighten.
Behind her, the baby deer calf she had rescued days ago rested quietly against her legs. Its fur had grown thicker, its steps steadier, and its presence radiated a calm warmth that seemed to ripple through the women surrounding them.
The group settled around a small fire, its flames flickering against the darkening forest. The aroma of roasted meat drifted through the air, pulled from the satchel Thalira had carefully "packed".
"These past six days... they've been the best we've had in years," Meini said softly. Her rounded belly hinted at the life growing within her, a silent reminder of both fragility and resilience.
"It almost feels like you were sent here by the gods," she added, eyes glimmering in the firelight.
Thalira chuckled softly, taking a sip of water from her bamboo cup. If only you knew...
One of her first instructions had been simple: boil water before drinking. Safety first. Small precautions that could mean life or death. During the nights, she trained. Hours of martial arts, while Cloud helped her attune to the earth beneath their feet.
"Do you think you'll hear the forest soon?" Meini asked, tilting her head as if weighing the question carefully.
"What do you mean?" Thalira replied, feeling that twinge of déjà vu. Somehow, she already knew where this conversation was heading.
"I saw you on our second night," Meini continued, her voice low. "I had to... relieve myself, and while walking away from the camp, I felt tremors beneath my feet."
Thalira froze.
"When I finally got close enough," Meini said, eyes wide, "the earth was... moving. You were enveloped by the ground as if it were welcoming you. My soul felt so peaceful... and the soil began swallowing my feet too."
She laughed softly, a quiet bubble of awe. "I panicked and ran away. Can you believe that?"
Thalira nearly choked on her water, the image vivid in her mind.
"I told the other women," Meini added, covering her mouth with a shy hand. A small ring glinted on her finger. "On the fourth night, I showed them. We tried to mimic what you were doing... it wasn't as strong, but... with your energy near us, ours began responding too."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Thalira asked, brushing damp hair from her face.
We didn't want to intrude, Meini's gentle voice replied. Her warmth radiated faintly, like the soft pulse of firelight against cold earth.
Thalira noticed the ring again. "Were you... mated?" she asked, soft now, careful.
The question caused Meini to pause. Her eyes softened as she turned toward the fire, embers reflecting faintly against her skin.
"Yes," she whispered. Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes. "He was injured during the last raid... we had to leave him behind."
She wiped her face with her sleeve, placing both hands over her belly.
"May he rest with Lior," Thalira murmured, lifting her small necklace toward the night sky.
"I know Lior is the god you introduced us to," Meini continued, voice trembling slightly, "but do you truly think he can save us?"
Thalira smiled, the weight of responsibility settling comfortably on her shoulders. Lior makes all things possible, she thought.
Stretching, she stood. "Get some rest." Her voice carried calm authority. She had taught them that when she retired for the night, they should follow shortly after. They obeyed.
The fire dimmed, and the women, children, and deer calf curled into their blankets. Before lying down, Thalira asked Cloud to create a protective barrier around the camp. Just in case.
⸻
Later that night
Her ears twitched. A sharp, sudden signal that jolted her upright. Cloud tumbled from her chest to her lap, startled awake, tiny nightcap askew.
Someone's out there.
Thalira's hand hovered over the bow above her head, muscles tensed, eyes scanning the shadows. She had been training with it daily, teaching herself precision and patience.
From the forest floor, she glimpsed movement. Falis. One of the remaining Groveborn. Olor must've sent him.
Thalira climbed silently into the branches, body pressing against rough bark. Fingers tightened around the bow. I could solve my biggest problem right now...
Cloud materialized from her satchel, voice flat. "And how exactly will your tribe procreate if you do that?"
Encourage procreation later, wait until the children grow, she thought, rolling her eyes.
"No," Cloud said, cutting off the idea with a wave of his paw. "We're just going to stop that train of thought right there."
She exhaled slowly, letting the tension in her shoulders ease. For now, observation was enough. Falis moved deeper into the woods, unaware of the eyes above him.
Thalira dropped silently, returning to the camp. Bow back in place, she lay down again—but only briefly.
One by one, she woke the women, guiding them through the familiar ritual. They closed their eyes, mimicking her breathing.
Feel the earth beneath you. Roots spreading. Deep. Ancient. Alive.
Golden light began to shimmer from the soil around them. One by one, the Wildborn women—the sleeping children and even the deer calf—were gently cradled by the earth.
Not swallowed. Embraced.
Thalira's chest swelled with quiet triumph. This is only the beginning.
She was reconnecting the Dryadkin to their roots, restoring what had been lost for centuries.