“They taught us to endure. We will teach them to bleed. A woman’s silence is not peace, it is the howl before the slaughter.”
—Eyleen Ársa
Theron
“What a handsome boy you are!” An elder female studies my face, nodding in approval.
“Why didn’t we have men like this when we were young?!” another exclaims and clicks her tongue.
Before I can react, a cooked piece of meat is shoved toward my face. I open my mouth, I have no choice.
“If I were sixty years younger...” a third elder mutters.
I pause mid-chew. What is happening? What would she have done if she were younger? Does she not realize I’m older than her?
I sit here, on a log, chewing cooked meat, surrounded by a few dozen elder females as they inspect and feed me like I’m a small pup.
From Borodýn to Róvgrad, it took us nearly four sun cycles to arrive. Róvgrad was no different. Another weak village, another place stripped of nature, lifeless and gray. It was even smaller than Borodýn. Hardly worth a battle.
I ordered three packs to escort the females and children to the first village, so they were under protection. As before, most of those who chose to stay behind were elders, but unlike Borodýn, those elders were... different. Now, we stand in Velkýna, the third village we have taken as ours. Since we left Ávera, eleven—maybe twelve—passing suns have come and gone. I have never been away from home this long before.
The elders here are livelier than the last. I take another bite of cooked meat.
The moment Velkýna’s females realized we had come to save them, not destroy them, the elders cheered. I hadn’t expected that.
Even my warriors changed, they softened. One scented his mate, and they are now at her home, claiming what fate has given them.
It gave the others hope.
We have been gone from Ávera for nearly half a moon cycle, and finally, we have one pair. That is good.
Unlike Borodýn and Róvgrad, this village has color. The females dress in rich reds and vibrant blues with beautiful embroidery. Even the elders wear bright fabric, their head coverings far more vivid than the dull rags of the last two villages.
“So you’re telling me you bedded Noël?” the elder woman in front of me asks, eyes curious as she inspects my crystals.
Bedded. The word comes frombed, my mate once explained. I grin, arching my back and letting my chest muscles flex under the firelight. “Of course.”
They burst into laughter, some playfully smacking my arms. This is good, right?
“So when will you have babies?” another elder asks, shoving another piece of meat into my mouth before I can answer.
Both my mate and I want that. But we can’t. I feel my shoulders sag on their own. She would be a great mother. I would be a great father. But the goddesses chose us for war, and the choice was never ours to make. I chew, swallow, and speak. “Not yet. First, we must free all the females. And enslave the males.”
“So that vólkin is now bedding Nessya!” An elder’s voice rises from the other side of the fire, her tone teasing.
The entire village gathered to celebrate our arrival, the first true welcome we’ve received. Compared to the first two villages, Velkýna had more soldiers and defenses, but they were nothing against vólkin strength.
“She’s my youngest granddaughter, Lyuba!” another elder laughs, her weathered hands clapping together.
I nod. “Yes, they’re mates.” I move to the side of the log to make space as an elder moves to sit beside me. “The goddesses choose two souls, and the vólkin feels it in his core.”
It is law. It is nature.
“You are such a charmer!” The elder grins, nudging me.
“Thank you,” I reply.
These elders are different. Bold and filled with something the others were missing.
