Kingdoms of storms and silence

They passed a contingent of Elven soldiers returning from patrolling the borders. Their armour gleamed in the fading light, the intricate silver patterns catching the last rays of the sun. As Arindor approached, the soldiers slowed, bowing in deference, their hands pressed to their chests in a silent display of respect. A prince among them still demanded acknowledgment, even in the wilds.

"We camp here for the night," Bjornor announced, his keen eyes already scanning the river teeming with golden fish. He licked his lips. "Plenty to go around."

"Want to help with dinner?" Astrid asked, turning to Ayla as she stretched her arms.

Ayla exhaled, glancing at the glistening water. "Sure. Why not?"

Wren was already wading in up to her shins, her hands darting through the wriggling mass of fish. She let out a delighted laugh as they slipped between her fingers, her determination unshaken.

The scent of pine and moist earth filled Ayla's lungs as she crouched by the stream, the cold water biting at her fingers. The wind carried the distant rustling of leaves, a whisper of something unseen moving through the trees. Astrid stood knee-deep in the current, hands flashing like a hawk's talons as she grabbed a fish, its body thrashing wildly. Without hesitation, she slammed it against a smooth river rock, the impact dull and final. The struggle ceased. One down.

A few feet away, Varian sat cross-legged on the mossy bank, parchment balanced on his knee as he meticulously documented the herbs growing along the water's edge. His fingers trailed over delicate leaves, occasionally plucking one and twirling it idly.

"Efficient," Varian observed, glancing up as Astrid tossed another fish into the woven basket beside her. His forest green eyes flickered with amusement as he held up a small, unassuming leaf between his fingers. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

Astrid wiped her hands on her tunic, smearing faint streaks of blood across the worn fabric. "Survival makes you learn quickly."

She turned to Ayla and nodded toward the basket. "Start preparing these. I'll be back soon."

Ayla grimaced slightly but nodded. She had gutted enough fish in the past few years to last a lifetime.

She turned to Varian. "Any herbs to make these taste like something other than fish?"

Varian smirked and plucked a bushy green leaf from his collection. "This one has a rich, nutty aroma—quite good with roasted meat or fish."

Ayla leaned closer, inhaling the faint earthy scent. "Not bad. What about that one?" She pointed to a sprig with delicate purple flowers.

"This?" Varian held it up between his thumb and forefinger. "Perfectly safe. Helps with fever and infection. A good one to keep around."

Then, with an exaggerated brush of his wrist, he picked up another plant—its dark leaves veined with black, the edges curling slightly. He twirled it lazily between his fingers, watching her reaction. "This, black henbane, on the other hand, will have you spewing your guts out within the hour. Tastes like lemon, though. Quite deceiving."

Ayla's gaze lingered on the leaf, something dangerous flickering behind her eyes.

"You seem interested," Varian mused, arching a brow.

She shrugged, feigning indifference. "Just curious."

She wasn't.

"Can I borrow some paper and a pencil?" Ayla asked, keeping her voice steady.