CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT（Untitled）Branikk

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Branikk

I spread out my map on the ground, and everyone gathers around, sitting on the soft moss, with Aurora standing, looking over my shoulder.

"All of this is known and to correct scale." I run my fingers over the center of the map, outlining all of the orc lands and the Umbriall Plains the unicorns call home. Then my finger drifts south, to where we are. "I tried to fill in what I could of my trip to the new standing stone and from there to here, but I'm not sure I got it quite right."

"You certainly haven't," Mist says, her bright-green eyes laughing at me. She sets her paw down an inch to the left of where I've placed the cu sith dens. "I can't speak about the new standing stone, but we're currently here."

I grunt, dip a quill into a small pot of walnut ink, and make the correction. It actually puts us a little closer to home than I thought.

"The sluagh gather here." Riselda taps a paw farther west. "They've launched several attacks on us over the past month from this same location, so we now watch it. But the sentries say the trees are black with birds this time."

"It's because of me. That one we met before says I taste sweet. And I think it's the same one that got away during that last attack on us as well," Grace says, the corners of her mouth pulling down. "I'm so sorry. You brought me here to help, but I've only made things worse."

I hate the anguish in her voice.

"You've made nothing worse," Rune says, leaning against her other shoulder. "Your magic made the weapon that can defeat the sluagh."

"Yet it's a weapon no cu sith can use." Riselda lifts a paw. "We do not have hands in our natural form, and with all the doors of Faerie closed, we have no access to our other forms."

"Other forms?" Grace says.

"Did you not know?" Mist grins widely. "The Wild Fae with animal forms used to be able to shift into elves. Humans used to tell stories about us."

"Stories of the cu sith, you mean," Rune says. " We were the famous ones."

"Oh. My. God. You mean werewolves !" My bride's eyes go wide as she stares at first Rune, then Riselda. "You're werewolves? Werewolves are real?" Then she sputters a laugh. "What am I saying? If magic's real, then werewolves can be, too."

"We're not currently werewolves," Rune says. "We cannot shift unless the doors of Faerie open again."

"Bah," Aurora says. "Who wants to be a biped?"

"You can change, too?" Grace gapes up at her, then looks at me. "What about you?"

"Orcs aren't animal fae. We have only one form." I smirk, showing off my tusks. "You can't improve upon perfection."

Aurora whacks the top of my head with her horn.

"Kidding aside, what we need is a way to trap the sluagh without hands," Riselda says. "Grace, can you design something we can use?"

"I don't know. I have to be able to picture it, but even then, my magic doesn't always work. It seems to only make things from the carnival or…" She breaks off, cheeks turning pink.

"Or?" Mist prompts.

Grace blurts, "Or other things that aren't useful for something like this."

What could she be speaking of? Then it hits me—the pillows, the diaphanous pink gown, and the black net stockings. The other types of things she makes are all meant for bed sport.

I shoot my moon bound a knowing look, and her cheeks turn even redder.

"We need a way for cu sith to trap the sluagh birds," Riselda says.

"Jump and trap one in your jaws," Mist says. "I've done so."

"And then do what with it?" Rune asks. "We can't kill it, and we can't hold it forever."

"See. I keep telling you hands are useful." I reach up and pat Aurora on the neck. "We need more orcs."

"Or a dragon who can burn an entire flock all at once." Mist stands. "I'll travel back to Moon Blade Village and see what I can do." She starts to fade from view, her long hair swirling in a breeze I can't feel.

I call out, "Tell them about Grace! Tell them to come protect my bride!"

Only her grin remains when she says, "I will." Then it too is gone.

"I'll go and stand lookout." Aurora bats me on the head—much more softly this time—and returns to the path that will take her to the top of the den hill.

"Whatever we come up with to catch the birds, we need things to hold them in." Grace looks at me. "How many bags do you have?"

I love how practical she is. Sadly, my answer is, "Not enough."

She turns to Riselda. "What do you have that we can make bags out of?"

"Nothing." The cu sith holds up a paw. "We have no use for such things."

"You guys hunt all the time for meat. But what do you do with the leather?"

"We don't turn hides into leather."

"Dammit." Grace's fingers drum on her leg. "There's got to be something."

"The nets your gun shoots can be tied into bags," I say. "They're still holding the three we trapped from that recent attack." The cu sith carried the trapped birds to various locations across their territory and enclosed them in empty dens.

"Yeah!" Her face brightens, and she snaps her fingers. "And my magic let me make more of the net cartridges. It was the first time it gave me what I actually asked for. Maybe that means I can make more of those."

I like seeing her like this, full of hope. Her magic is a wondrous thing, if only she can get it to do what she wants. And perhaps belief in her abilities can play a part in that.

"Make another of the guns, too," I say.

"I'm still not a great shot."

"If there are as many of the sluagh as reported, you won't need to be," I growl, hating the thought of her in danger. "Our foe will fill the air."

I vow then and there to do anything, risk anything, to keep her safe. Life will mean nothing without her, so my life is hers. She is my love, my everything.