A nýmphá steps forward to hand her a scroll.
“You will solve riddles,” my mate explains, “as the clues within them will guide you to the items you need to gather. Each team will be given a scroll, and Naïa will announce the teams before you begin.”
Solving riddles? My ears twitch. What is she planning? This is unexpected.
She begins to read the three riddles aloud:
In a grove where flowers bloom bright,
Find the herb that heals with might,
Among the petals, it hides its form,
A remedy to keep us warm.
Where the forest’s heart beats strong,
Find the feather from a song,
High in branches, it does rest,
A token from a sacred nest.
By the stream where waters flow,
Find the stone with a gentle glow,
Marked by runes of ancient lore,
A gift from spirits, evermore.
“The spirits of this land are a part of my soul,” my mate declares, raising her hands to the sky. From the shadows of the trees, leaf spirits emerge, and their laughter rings out as they flit toward us. They circle the younglings, showering them with colorful petals.
The sight before me is unlike any other. My mate, standing tall and proud before the warriors, commanding not only their attention but also the spirits of the forest.
“They are my eyes and arms, and the goddesses above are the guardians,” she continues.
I lift a paw to my heart, and the warriors mirror my action.
“The last team to bring back the items”—her tone shifts to take on a playful edge—“will be the one to hunt for tonight’s feast!”
A ripple of growls echoes through the warriors.
“Let the strongest, smartest, and best team win!”
Muscles coil, fangs bare, and the tension in the air grows. Every warrior is ready to sprint into the forest.
“The teams are,” Essin begins, unrolling a scroll. “Team one: Ívar, Orel...”
As all eyes turn to Essin, I walk closer to my mate. She tilts her head up, her voice quiet as she says, “If you lose, I expect a giant boar for the feast.”
Lowering myself to her height, I let a grin spread across my snout. “I will win, and I will hunt a boar worthy of you.” Taking her hand in my paw, I lift it to brush my mouth against her knuckles and whisper against her skin, “You will eat only what I hunt, my sweet dove.”
Her wide eyes and flushed face are the last thing I see before Elder Aïna announces, “GO!”
Kaël scratches behind his ear, a familiar gesture that signals he’s deep in thought. “Her Majesty isn’t holding back. Those riddles? She’s full of surprises.”
Aeson rubs his chin. “I didn’t expect this kind of challenge.”
