Night fell. A hush rolled through the jungle as the breeze combed the leaves, whispering in waves. Moonlight poured through gaps like liquid silver, and the forest breathed anew.
Crackle—snap—snap... Medith sat straight-backed, breaking slender twigs and feeding the fire. Her soaked team uniform hung nearby to dry.
Sais shut herself off, a trembling hush. She hugged her soft frame and curled on a bed of leaves.
Her face flushed like a ripe apple about to drop. She said nothing, turned her back on the girls, eyes wet on the ground.
No one dared breathe loud. Medith shot her a look, snorted, and fed more wood.
Melia knelt in that duck-sit half-kneel on the leaf bed, her face painted like sunset. Maybe the fire did it, maybe a shy, awkward memory.
Sais dragged a spray of leaves and wrapped herself tight. She became a green ball, slipping from sight.
Inside that green cocoon, dusk at the waterfall replayed. Shame throbbed; she had no face for anyone.
She had actually—by Medith—in front of everyone...
Her cool, aloof image dissolved in a single evening.
“Mm... speaking of which, Medith, aren’t we opening the chest to see what’s inside?” Rita tried to crack the quiet.
Medith played it off, pajamas on, roasting a wild rabbit. “What’s the rush, kiddo? Don’t do things hot-headed.
The last hot-headed one is already in a ball.”
“Haha... ha...” Melia, Iling, and the Lita Sisters let out awkward laughs. The air went quiet again.
That domineering scene—Medith like a ruler pinning Sais—was stamped in their minds.
Sais’s shy pride collapsing left all the girls spooked.
Looks like... Medith really holds grudges... they thought.
“Why are you standing there? Bring the rest of the rabbits to roast! I’m taking a whole one.” At that, hunger beat fear. They snatched up fruit and skinned rabbits and got grilling.
Medith roasted longer, then amped the heat with magic. Ten minutes, and the rabbit sizzled, big as a chicken, legs like springs.
Inside, the meat stayed tender and strong, with a satisfying chew.
Medith pulled the spit and dusted on her carried spices. The rabbit had plenty of fat; oil gleamed without a drop added. Spices bloomed, and the aroma struck their noses like a wave.
She sat deliberately at Sais’s “door,” leaned on the green ball, took a small knife, shaved slices, and chewed.
“Mmm... so fragrant... wow, this roast is unreal. Someone want a bite?” Medith ate with exaggerated bliss.
“Go away! I’m not hungry—” Sais’s voice shook, breaking into a hurt sob.
Medith knew she was in the wrong. She didn’t press with words, just with meat. “Wow... the belly, rich but not greasy, soft and savory, melts on the tongue. With spice, it’s divine...
Mmm... this leg—oil dripping, tough yet springy, crisp enough to slip off the bone, the scent drifting for miles...
There’s another one. Want it? If not, I’m eating it.”
“Ah! Give me—” Sais finally broke, pounced, and wrestled the roast from Medith’s hands.
...
Year 996, January 11th. A new day unfurled. Morning woke everything, light washing all things.
Birds began to sing; butterflies to dance. Medith blinked awake, bleary. A few butterflies perched on her hair, drinking greedily at her scent.
To them, it beat flower nectar.
Whoosh... Medith extended slender jade-like fingers. The butterflies, drawn in, settled on her fingertips, fluttering painted wings.
She stroked them, then sent them off. They wheeled above her, hesitated, and at last drifted away.
“Alright, little brats, the sun’s on your backsides. Up!” At her call, the girls jolted like struck by thunder and sprang straight up.
...
“Medith... you... didn’t you just promise the Queen...” Sais trailed off.
Medith, just rinsed at the river, blinked as if hit by a thought. “Ah... I forgot.”
“Forgot? How do you forget that?” Sais crackled with anger, gunpowder thick in the air.
“What’s wrong? Owe again? Heh...” Medith reached to stroke her cheek. Sais flicked her hand away. Medith cradled her stinging palm, staring in disbelief.
“Do you treat everyone like this? Is your oath that flimsy?” Sais’s fury spilled over.
Medith blanked out, lost. “No... I only do that with you and Lahiss. I didn’t forget Xier either, so why... hey, spell it out!”
Sais had already turned away, leaving in a storm.
...
“Hey, does the Elf Clan have, uh, menopause?” Medith whispered to Melia. Melia nodded. “We do, but it’s late, around... eight hundred or so.”
“Then how old is she...” Medith eyed Sais’s frost-bitten face, the silence heavy.
“About... five hundred?” Melia wasn’t sure. At least several centuries. She fought with the Queen—one fierce woman.
“Hmph! Little fool still doesn’t know her mistake?” Sais shot a glance cold as a blade.
Medith was utterly at sea. She chalked it up to a short circuit. Women—Xier too had moments, storming one second, sobbing the next.
“Sigh... looks like Medith really is an iron-blooded general, no doubt.” The Lita Sisters had seen through it, and they could understand Sais’s anger.
