Chapter 6 Ressa
RESSA
I'm already outside when Falla rounds the corner toward my cabin, and the look on his face almost makes yesterday worth it.
His steps falter—barely perceptible, but I catch it. The way his blue-green eyes widen just a fraction before his expression shutters back to its usual neutral assessment.
"You're out of the cabin." He states it like a diagnosis, clinical and factual.
"Astute observation." I cross my arms, fighting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. The morning air carries a sharp bite that raises goosebumps along my skin, but it feels cleaner than the stale recycled air inside. "I'm ready for Day 2."
Falla stops a respectful distance away, studying me like he's cataloging symptoms. Looking for cracks in my composure, probably. Signs I'm about to shatter again.
I hold his gaze, refusing to shrink back. My hands want to shake but I keep them pressed against my sides, anchored.
"You don't have to." His voice carries no judgment, just statement of fact. "We can skip today. Skip all of it if you need to."
"I know." The words come easier than I expect. "But I want to try."
Something shifts in his expression—not quite approval, but close to it. He tilts his head slightly, reassessing. "Why?"
The question catches me off guard. Most people would just accept the answer and move on, relieved to not deal with my mess. But Falla never does what's expected.
I consider lying, giving him some surface-level response about not wanting to waste his time or feeling better today. But he'd see through it immediately. He always does.
"Because yesterday was terrifying," I admit, the honesty scraping my throat raw. "But it also felt like... progress. Like maybe I can actually do this. Move forward instead of just existing in that cabin waiting to feel less broken."
Falla's jaw works slightly, processing. "And if you panic again?"
"Then you get me out. Like you promised."
"That's not a plan."
"It's the only plan I have."
The silence stretches between us, filled with unspoken weight.
I can see him working through it—the healer part of his brain probably screaming that this is too much too fast, that I should be taking smaller steps.
But whatever internal argument he's having resolves itself when his shoulders drop fractionally.
"Fine." He gestures toward the settlement center. "But the second it becomes too much, you tell me. Don't wait until you're drowning."
"Deal."
We start walking, my legs protesting slightly from disuse.
The path toward the gathering area feels longer than it should, every step requiring conscious effort.
Not from physical pain—Falla's treatments have handled most of that—but from the mental weight of moving toward a crowd of orcs instead of away from them.
My breathing wants to go shallow. I force it to stay even, counting inhales and exhales like Falla taught me during one of his visits.
Four counts in. Hold. Four counts out.
The noise of the gathering reaches us before the visual—low rumbling voices, occasional laughter, the sound of weapons being checked and adjusted. My stomach clenches reflexively but I push through it, focusing on Falla's solid presence beside me.
He doesn't hover or offer reassurances or treat me like glass about to break. Just maintains his steady pace, a fixed point I can orient myself around.
The crowd comes into view, and I catalog the familiar faces before my anxiety can spiral.
Kai stands near the edge, his massive frame impossible to miss even among other orcs.
Ursik lounges against a tree nearby, already in full performative mode as he regales someone with what sounds like an exaggerated hunting story.
Saela waves when she spots me, her smile bright but careful. She's learned not to make a big production out of my appearances. I appreciate that more than she probably knows.
"Look who decided to grace us with her presence." Ursik's voice booms across the space as we approach. "Thought Falla scared you off yesterday, Little Bird."
The nickname should grate—he started using it weeks ago and hasn't stopped despite my lack of response—but somehow it doesn't. Coming from Ursik, it sounds affectionate rather than condescending.
"Takes more than Falla's face to scare me off." The words come out steadier than I feel.
Ursik barks a laugh while Falla shoots me a look that might be amusement if his face did those kinds of expressions.
"Careful," Kai rumbles from his position. "Falla's competitive when people doubt him."
"I'm not competitive." Falla's tone stays flat. "I'm just better than both of you at everything."
"Confident words from someone who lost the last three sparring matches." Ursik grins, all tusks and swagger.
"You mean the matches where I was healing your stupid injuries from the matches before that?" Falla's eyebrow lifts fractionally. "Hard to spar when you're busy keeping idiots alive."
The banter flows easily between them, and I find myself relaxing incrementally as I listen. This is normal. Familiar. Three friends giving each other grief in that particular way males do when they're comfortable with each other.
Saela appears at my elbow, her presence warm and grounding. "How are you feeling?"
"Ask me after." I keep my voice low, not wanting to draw attention.
She nods, understanding flickering across her features. Her hand brushes mine briefly—contact without pressure—before she moves back toward Kai.
Drogath's voice cuts through the gathering noise, announcing the start of Day 2.
Something about serpent tracking and partner bonds and prosperity through shared challenge.
I try to focus on the words but they slide past, my attention catching instead on the carved wooden tokens being distributed to each pair.
The tokens are small, shaped like coiled serpents with detailed scales and open mouths. Harmless pieces of wood, but my fingers curl involuntarily as Falla accepts ours.
"These represent the serpents we're hunting," he explains quietly, holding it where I can see without forcing me to take it. "They're hidden throughout the forest. We find them, bring them back, prove we can work together."
"Like a scavenger hunt."
"Essentially."
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. A scavenger hunt I can handle. It's just walking through the woods, looking for carved wood. Nothing threatening about that.
The other pairs start moving toward the forest edge, energy shifting from gathered stillness to purposeful movement. Falla glances at me, question clear in his eyes.
I nod. We can do this.
The forest canopy closes overhead as we move past the settlement boundary, dappled sunlight filtering through the branches. Most of the pairs have spread out already, following different paths to search their designated areas.
Falla keeps our pace moderate, not rushing. His eyes scan the surrounding trees with practiced efficiency, looking for the hidden tokens while simultaneously monitoring me from his peripheral vision.
I focus on my breathing, on the solid ground beneath my feet, on the normal sounds of forest during early spring. Birds calling. Wind through branches. The distant rush of the creek to the east.
Normal. Safe. Just a walk in the woods.
"There." Falla nods toward a fallen log about twenty feet ahead, where a glint of something catches the light.
We approach together, and sure enough, one of the serpent tokens sits nestled in a hollow of the rotting wood. Falla retrieves it, tucking it into his belt pouch before we continue deeper.
The forest thickens around us, underbrush making the path less obvious. Falla navigates it easily, his movements economical and sure. I follow in his wake, trusting his lead.
A shout echoes from somewhere to our left—Ursik, probably, declaring some victory or another. The sound makes me flinch but I push through it, reminding myself that it's just enthusiasm. Just competition. Nothing dangerous.
We find two more tokens in quick succession, Falla spotting them before I even register their presence. The third one sits wedged in a tree hollow nearly eight feet up, requiring him to climb slightly to reach it.
I watch from below, cataloging the efficiency of his movements. No wasted motion, no hesitation. Just clinical assessment and execution.
"Four down," he says after dropping back to the ground. "Probably six more to find."
I nod, not trusting my voice. The deeper we go, the more the forest seems to press in around us. Shadows lengthen. The sounds of other pairs fade into distance.
We're alone out here. Isolated. Far from help if something goes wrong.
The thought surfaces before I can stop it, and my breathing immediately wants to quicken. I force it steady, counting again.
Four in. Hold. Four out.
Falla moves ahead, scanning the next cluster of trees. I follow, my steps less certain now. The ground beneath my feet feels uneven, though logically I know it hasn't changed.
A branch snaps somewhere behind us.
My head whips around, heart suddenly hammering. Nothing there. Just forest. Just normal sounds.
But my body doesn't care about logic. It remembers running through woods like these, fear driving every step. Remembers being hunted.
Another shout in the distance—farther away this time, distorted by trees and wind. It could be celebration. Could be discovery.
Could be something else.
My chest tightens. The forest that seemed merely dense moments ago now feels suffocating, every shadow potentially hiding threats. The branches overhead look like reaching claws. The underbrush rustles with phantom movement.
The memories flood in.
Running. Stumbling. The Stonevein voices behind me, laughing as they gave chase. The way they'd let me get ahead just enough to think I might escape before closing the distance again, toying with their prey.
The forest blurs. I'm not here anymore—I'm back there, lungs burning, legs screaming, knowing that when they caught me it would hurt and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
My vision tunnels. The carved serpent tokens stop being harmless wood and become symbols of predators, of being tracked, of being prey in a hunt I can't win.
Someone crashes through the underbrush nearby—another pair searching for tokens, probably—but my body interprets it as threat. As danger closing in.
I can't breathe. Can't think past the roaring panic flooding my system. The forest spins, solid ground feeling unstable beneath my feet.
They're coming. They're going to find me. Going to hurt me again.
Run. I need to run. Need to get away before they get me.
I won't survive it again.