Before dusk fell, it became clear that the situation that had unfolded at the pasture was not an isolated incident. The Crescent Moon clan, which occupied the lands north of the Old Willow, had attacked in many places at once. The losses were difficult to estimate but were certainly significant. They had targeted flocks, hunting camps, logging sites, and other goblin workplaces, but above all, the goblins themselves. Scouts and warrior units returned to the stronghold with grim faces, and wagons full of murdered workers regularly arrived at the barrows. The inhabitants were at a boiling point.

  Urg’hur made no attempt to hide the truth—it would have been impossible anyway. On the contrary, the next morning he held an official funeral ceremony, which he graced with his own presence and that of his retinue, paying honors to the goblins who had fallen in service to the clan. He then declared it a day off from work, and in the evening, a clan assembly was organized, where a state of war was announced and all volunteers were summoned to the training grounds to receive their assignments.

  Gra’sha's ambition to become a warrior in the chieftain's warband was fulfilled sooner than she had thought, but in circumstances entirely different from what she had imagined. Along with all the volunteers from the standing corps, she was inducted into the warrior caste, which was now to face a regular war with the aggressor from the northeast. As was explained to them, the veterans had been divided into seven units, each of which was filled with newly nominated warriors, so that all had a total of forty members, half old and half new.

  Sha’dru, Mal’gor, Gra’sha, and all the volunteers who had been with her in the clearing lined up for their assignments together, and thus they all ended up in the last of the units, the seventh. Dur’var, assisted by the chieftain himself standing nearby with his dire wolves, Black and White at his heel, handed each and every one of them gilded cubes with freshly stamped numbers, which they added to their bracelets. Despite the haste, he found a few words of congratulation or praise for almost everyone. The chieftain then accepted them into his service with a short speech, delivered after everyone had received their assignment.

  "Warriors of Wolf Rock! Glory to you and your ancestors! I look at you and I see the flame of righteous vengeance that will consume the fools from the north," he called out in a resonant voice to the assembly, and the crowd answered him with angry shouts. When they quieted down a bit, he continued.

  "Not with trickery and cowardly raids, but with heads held high and weapons in hand, we will bring them ruin. And when the wind has scattered the smoke from the mounds of their bodies, even the hills, mountains, and clearings will forget the name of their clan," he proclaimed with moderate gestures and a hardness in his voice. The crowd responded again with a shout, this time even louder. He silenced them after a few moments with a gesture of his hand and added at the end.

  "When we are done with them, every inhabitant of the Great Marches will remember once and for all that Wolf Rock does not forget and does not forgive. See you on the battlefield. Bring me pride!" He almost screamed the last words and left the crowd chanting his name behind him, returning to the fortress accompanied by his personal guard and his two giant wolves. Gra’sha let herself be carried away by the atmosphere and chanted along with the rest. She was sure that the chieftain would lead them to victory.

  Before anyone could think of dispersing, the individual unit commanders gathered their orcs for a short briefing. Their new commander was Kor’got. A man tall even for an orc, sinewy, and of advanced middle age, he introduced himself briefly and, in a passionless tone, explained that they were to get a good night's sleep and report to the armorer in the morning to collect their equipment, and then gather here on the grounds around noon for orders. Afterward, he dismissed them.

  Gra’sha let herself be swept up in the rally's atmosphere and started to walk to her quarters in a fighting mood, noting with unease that what she was most looking forward to was the opportunity to freely draw upon the energy of fallen enemies. However, Mal’gor pulled her from this thought. He joined her on her left and spoke. "Well, well, kid. You've finally caught up with me. Who would've thought?"

  "I would have, for one," she retorted.

  Sha’dru appeared on her right before he could respond and interjected. "I won't hide the fact that I did too. If it weren't for the war, she probably would have even surpassed you."

  "Talk," he grunted, and changed the subject. "I heard we lost a few people in the clearing, but I see you came out of it unscathed."

  He patted Gra’sha on the shoulder, looked at Sha’dru, and added, "And you too. That's good. I'm glad you were looking out for her."

  "And she for me. The important thing is to watch out for each other," she said and winked at the girl, to which Gra’sha responded with a modest smile.

  Mal’gor just rolled his eyes but agreed, saying, "True. We're in the same unit now. No one needs to prove themselves to Dur’var for a promotion, so let's make sure we start and end our battles in the same fine company, hmm?"

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  "You know it!" Sha’dru replied, and Gra’sha nodded with enthusiasm.

  He nodded for a moment, agreeing with his own proposition, then broke away from them and went his own way, just throwing a "See you tomorrow!" as he left.

  Sha’dru walked with her and, after a short conversation, convinced her to take an evening bath, noting that they could talk there in peace. They stopped by her house on the way to get supplies.

  "You've grown by about half a head. You're already up to my shoulders," she pronounced, standing back-to-back with the girl in the bathing hall. At this remark, Gra’sha smiled, revealing her lower tusks. She hadn't noticed it herself because her travel clothes were quite loose, but she had to admit her friend was right. She looked at herself carefully and had the impression that her figure had also gained a little mass.

  "Staring at them won't get them clean," the woman joked and sat the girl down in front of her, then helped her with her back and continued, "The Crescent Moon clan… they wouldn't have attacked us in such an organized and unexpected way if they didn't believe they could handle the consequences of such a move."

  "They miscalculated in the clearing," Gra’sha began, but Sha’dru interrupted her.

  "They met you in the clearing. Everywhere else, our people weren't so lucky. The goblins are still digging new barrows," she sighed heavily. "I see how consumed you are by the fight, how your eyes shine in battle. I just want you to be careful. Not every fight can be won. Not even by you," she said seriously and stopped scrubbing her back.

  Gra’sha turned around, and seeing the concern in the woman's eyes, she lowered her own gaze and replied, "I'll be careful. Like Mal’gor said, the important thing is to come back in one piece."

  "Even that blockhead says something wise sometimes," she said, a bit more cheerfully, and went back to scrubbing.

  A few moments and one good rinse later, they switched places. Gra’sha was careful not to scrub too hard, and as she looked at the woman's back and considered her concern, the need to share her situation with someone other than the wolves welled up inside her. In a quiet voice, muffled by the water and the general hubbub in the adjacent rooms, she began timidly.

  "Back then, after training, you said that I would choose if and when I told you about it, and since that conversation, you haven't pressured me once. I appreciate that, Sha’dru. Seriously."

  At these words, the woman just grunted briefly in acknowledgment and let the girl continue speaking.

  "Since I was a child, I've seen a kind of inner glow in everything that lives," she said and paused for a moment, searching for the right words.

  "Spiritual energy, like the shamans?" the woman asked quietly.

  "Like the shamans?"

  "My grandmother told me that shamans can talk to the spirits of the ancestors, ask them about the future, cast spells and curses, because they draw from spiritual energy. She came from a clan that had shamans, and she knew several of them personally."

  Gra’sha fell silent for a moment and considered what she had heard, then continued.

  "In the battle with the gnolls, my first where I took a life, I saw that spiritual energy dissipating into nothingness, and something inside me wanted to reach for it, and—" she paused for a moment, but the woman placed her hand on hers without turning around to give her courage, and after a few moments, she finished her sentence, "—and I absorbed all of it. From everyone I killed. Many times. And that energy, it stayed in me, strengthened me… changed me."

  It was the first time she had described it aloud in such a way. A little frightened by her own words and what stood behind them, she dropped the cloth and hid her face in her hands. Sha’dru, slowly, so as not to startle her, turned on the stool and gently embraced the girl, speaking in a soft voice.

  "My grandmother never mentioned anything like that. Apparently, it's a very rare gift," Sha’dru emphasized the last word.

  Gra’sha raised her eyes, and their gazes met. There was neither condemnation nor fear in her friend's eyes. A weight lifted from her heart; she realized how mortally afraid she had been of rejection, especially from her.

  "So when you lost consciousness back there…" Sha’dru asked, letting her go and straightening up.

  "I reached for too much, too quickly," she explained, still quietly, but in a tone devoid of its former burden, and pushed her hair back from her face.

  "I know you're no shaman, and I believe what you said. It might be something similar, but different. Mother Nature has awakened something special in you. This will stay between us," she promised the girl.

  "My mother knew about my gift. Before she passed, she forbade me from talking about it and told me to avoid shamans."

  "A wise woman. Many clans avoid shamans. Our chieftain can't stand them and doesn't allow them to settle in our lands, but maybe there's more to it. Maybe shamans don't have much sympathy for people with your gift," she said, then shrugged and concluded, "To hell with them."

  At that, Gra’sha laughed briefly. She felt the tense muscles in her shoulders relax. Sha’dru also laughed lightly and rested her forehead against hers.

  "This gift is yours, Gra’sha. Don't let the veterans, the chieftain, or anyone else use it in any way other than how you would want. Sooner or later, they will see your talent in one way or another, and they will want to use it, to use you."

  "I promise," the girl replied, at which Sha’dru smiled widely at her.

  "Enough of this scrubbing. Let's go soak in the tub," she announced and stood up. The girl muttered in agreement, and they went together to another room, where the hot water washed away all the hardships of the day and of their conversation.