Wrapped by the Naga (Naga Mates #1)

Chapter 1

“Maybe for once in your life, you’ll finally be able to rest your eyes and get a full night’s sleep without being interrupted by some ungodly excuse if you just do what you’re assigned.

” Griselda mocked the words with a high pitch, mimicking her hand next to her sweaty face like a disgruntled puppet.

Turning her hand to stare at her as though it had a face of its own, she grunted in frustration.

Dry brown leaves crunched beneath her dragging heels. Scattering clouds loomed overhead against the shifting evening sky as birds whooped in the distance. A sparse forest stretched on all sides, thinning further on the unmarked path as her black boots stomped toward a lone tree a few feet away.

A scoff sounded in the warm air.

Only once every few moons did it feel they could finally enjoy a full meal from such a never ending hunt. And only once every year did it feel she could sit and breathe without additional duties being shoved into her lap.

Sweat beaded on her tired brow, a handwoven basket adjusting against her waist from the crook between her arm.

While convenient, there were some awkward moments when she needed a breather due to its cylindrical shape.

Since it was a gift from a neighbor, she couldn’t necessarily say no to it either and decided it was a waste of materials should she try to replace it for something more comfortable.

Narrow peach lips blew a heavy sigh as her march ceased. She balled a frustrated fist into her opposite hip and began kneading the flaring joint.

“Really. This damned tree, again? Just my luck.” Her head lazed back as bright emerald eyes glared ahead.

A thick tree loomed proudly. The near-setting sun blazing a swathe of purples and pinks behind its ominous pose.

Its bare branches were wild. They splayed with an ache of what fruit used to decorate the empty spaces.

Griselda’s stern gaze scanned higher through snowy eyelashes, shoulders slumping.

Her previous visit to this very spot was only three moons ago, and it looked just as horrific then as it did now.

Huffing at the empty basket, it seems she jinxed herself to this reluctant fate. The forest just wasn’t providing like it used to and she took this as a premonition of worse times ahead.

“At least you’ve got something for me. Surprising that some critter hasn’t made a meal of you.” Her lips pursed as she analyzed the delicious prize above, echoes of her voice reverberating around the grove.

She didn’t notice the birds hushing in the distance.

Swollen in over-ripeness, a vivid sun-toned orb swayed at the apex of the haunting timber.

Its gnarled branches flexed around the fruit like sickly witch’s fingers, eagerly waiting for its fall.

Disease seemed to be hitting the forest harder this season, turning some vegetation an off-putting brown while others held strong to their dulling greens.

A few grew odd warts that oozed a viscous red liquid with a sour smell that lingered for days.

This tree somehow missed the warts and instead grew a fuzzy white fungus along the base of its trunk.

The fungus trailed up its length as though its goal was to consume this single fruit.

Muggy air blew hair against her face, whipping snowy strands into her eyes and mouth. A sigh escaped her again. Today was not going as planned.

Her nose scrunched at a whiff of decaying leaves and moss.

Placing the basket down and reaching into a small satchel, Griselda pulled out a delicate sinew hair tie and shoved it around her wrist. She then bent down to hike up her leather leggings and folded them at the calf.

An embroidered pattern ran up the outer length of her legs, one that her fingertips traced as she moved upward to smooth the hem of her shirt.

The tan cotton-like tunic, while split around her thighs, was luckily short enough on her arms that she didn’t see a need to push the sleeves out of the way.

Her hair, however, was going to be a mess.

Grabbing dual braids from the nape of her neck, Griselda twisted them together and tied them into a disheveled bun.

The rest of her hair was too short to tie and hung as an angled bob around her flushed cheeks and long tapered ears, leaving a simple leather necklace with a thumb-sized pendant exposed along her collarbone.

Her fingers lingered down to the necklace in a subconscious manner to rub against the smooth side of the pendant.

All the altar maidens were given similar necklaces as young girls by the High Priest with promise they would provide protection in the woods.

She wasn’t sure if she had ever truly believed that promise.

In fact, Griselda didn’t think much of the High Priest and resented his gaunt lanky stature.

But, despite his eerie physique, the villagers bowed to his every whim and demand.

He was in a position reminiscent of old kings in these lands, but to her it seemed he let it go to his head and forgot his true promise to the people.

Forgetting to send supplies, failing to provide anything except for those damned guards, and always choosing what he called an ‘offering’ each time he visited.

It rubbed Griselda the wrong way. None of them knew what happened once the offering was chosen and whisked away.

She secretly feared the day she would be chosen. If she would be chosen.

Unlike her fellow villagers.

Some of the altar maidens whispered excitement at the possibility of being so lucky.

A low sun ray sparkled off her lily-white hair as Griselda focused on sizing up the brooding tree once more. Tapping her toes on the ground, she psyched herself up.

While there was only one fruit on this damned tree, with the size it had grown it could easily feed a couple of people for an evening. That itself was better than returning empty-handed and getting scolded for something outside her control.

Again.

Griselda’s teeth gritted.

Countless times this past week she’d been scolded for staying out near sunset. Neither the chieftain nor the guards allowed anyone out of the village once the sun set. ‘Too many dangers’, they’d say. ‘Too much unknown.’

Determination puffed in her chest at proving herself just this once and showing that the forest wasn’t that dangerous.

For her three decades and some years of life, she’d never come across anything that tried to kill her.

Sure, there was the occasional poisonous plant or rabid boar, but nothing that made her feel she wouldn’t survive the run back to the village.

Gray fuzz plumed into the air as she approached the peeling bark. The wood seemingly shivered when her outstretched palm caressed it, testing if it was truly sturdy or if it was going to give.

“Better now than never. Hold steady for me, okay?” Griselda mumbled more to herself than the tree as she bit the inside of her cheek.

Groans echoed back from the tree as doubt toiled in her stomach over its stability despite being twice her width.

Scraping her boot against the spores and watching them pull back in a putrid suction, she braced a foothold along a twisting root and yanked at a limb barely taller than herself.

A grimace spread across her freckled face as she used all of her exhausted might to pull higher.

This was not a feat the village trained the altar maidens on.

They were trained in cleaning, organizing, and decorating the altar with small offerings for the next season, not climbing, fighting, or darting through the woods.

Desperate times meant all the women had to search for harvestable goods though.

Branches crackled and shook across the crooked arms of the tree.

Her build was too stocky for climbing such a frail plant, but the challenge was something she occasionally enjoyed.

Fear surged through and tinged her face just before a branch cracked under her weight and jolted ice through her spine.

She shook her head, ears twitching as she tried to knock the thoughts of falling and being stuck this far from the village.

Though she kept a tough demeanor on the outside, she was secretly weary of the forest and always wondered if the day she lets her guard down would be the day it would claim her body to nourish the decaying roots of the foliage.

Such would be just her luck, despite having never felt the threat of death from the land.

The fruit wobbled a few more feet above her, pulling her attention back.

Taunting.

Tempting.

Gnawing her bottom lip, Griselda reached up as far as she could. Her strained fingers waggled, relentlessly hoping that the meek attempt would coax the fruit closer.

“Come on, you sneaky morsel!” She hissed through gritted teeth.

A thought crossed her mind as she pulled back.

Can I bounce this down?

She glanced between her footholds at how far up she truly was. Somehow, she’d climbed twice her height during her haze. Lifting onto her tiptoes, she rushed her heels back down with her weight and stared at the round fruit.

It bobbed and swayed.

Surely, she could do that again and it would budge, right? She performed the maneuver again.

More swaying.

Again.

The fruit swayed steadily.

Once more.

Stubbornly, the fruit maintained the same speed.

Yet again.

The tree groaned under the efforts, refusing to release its final treasure.

“Come ON!” Frustrated, Griselda violently shook all her limbs, screeching at the fruit.

Her braids slipped from their shoddy bun, the hair tie falling to the ground below.

Should someone happen across her in this moment, they would absolutely think she’d gone mad with her sprawled pose in this decrepit tree.

Panting, she wasn’t fully convinced someone hadn’t seen her either.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as though something had secretly witnessed the entire ordeal.

Just as she was about to swivel to check if it was just her imagination playing tricks on her, a tiny creak eased from above. Her eyes snapped upward and widened, mouth agape, as the fruit released its spent grip.

It was at this moment that all sanity immediately left as she flung her body toward the fruit, forgetting how high she was and with no regard for her own safety.

Griselda’s left foot suddenly angled inward as she lunged up to catch the fleshy orb before it risked slamming into the unforgiving ground below.

A searing crunch screamed up her leg as numb tingles followed behind.

Whining through the pain with her lips between her teeth, she clutched the fruit to her chest and hooked an arm around a sturdier branch as they both swung into place.

Ogling its size as it filled beyond her hand and spilled almost to her elbow, Griselda heaved a sigh of relief.

Its flesh was a pock-marked off-red with darker veins skirting the core where it siphoned the last parasitic taste it could of the now bare tree.

A pleasant scent wafted from it, similar to orange blossoms and vanilla.

Inside this huge fruit were sections of pudding-like chambers that tasted exactly how it smelled.

Each chamber held a small palm-sized inedible seed.

The villagers would often dry these and use them as jewelry or hang them around their homes to ward off unwanted insects as none had ever been successful in growing them.

A smile beamed from her, glowing along her oval face.

This might be the last fruit in this entire section of the forest. Yet here it was cradled in her arms like a fresh baby.

Her heart beat with pride and joy. Surely, they wouldn’t reprimand her for coming back so late with such a prize as this.

Hell, the chieftain might even let her take tomorrow off with this heavily cherished fruit.

He might hoard it all to himself too, but a day off would be worth it.

She winced as her weight shifted to the wounded ankle.

A day off to nurse whatever she just did to it would be even better.

The bruised ankle seared in tender pain as she started her slow descent.

The bark of the tree now revealed each indent and scratch that she left on her initial climb.

Dodging as much of the scuffed bark as possible, she managed to touch the ground partially unscathed.

Angled air blew from her lips and puffed a few untamed strands of hair away from her eyes.

Distracted by the pain, Griselda forgot to grab the hair tie from the base of the tree.

Stumbling to the basket, she delicately placed the fruit all the way to the bottom and wrapped it with a light piece of fabric that had been folded inside.

“Ugh, you’ve really messed yourself up this time.

Hopefully it was truly worth it.” She plopped on the ground and poked at her tender ankle while knocking lone leaves away from her feet.

Untying her boot and carefully folding the cuff down, she held her breath at the sight.

Deep purple bruising already sprawled across her delicate skin with swollen redness puffing to the side.

Shying, she gingerly folded her leggings back down to cover the worst of it, leaving her boot folded.

Griselda shook her head, “Just get back home and deal with the consequences later.”

Hooking an arm through a loop on the back of the cylindrical basket, she tossed it over her shoulder and slowly stood.

Putting weight on the bruised ankle hurt worse than the time a burnvine wrapped around it, but it would be better to deal with this pain and make it back to the village than it would be to stay out here any longer.

Lest the devil decides to reveal himself in times of need.

Griselda mocked the thought while she gazed at the darkening sky.

Deep purple clouds drifted across as faint stars began to shine through.

Interesting how her damaged skin seemed to reflect the beauty of a night like this.

A few night birds resumed their whooping, drawing her attention back.

She peered down at her ankle again and dropped her shoulders.

Time was almost up anyway, and she still had at least an hour’s walk back home.

Starting the slow walk back, Griselda’s mind wandered further as she hummed to herself. Creatures of the forest cawed and croaked while she hobbled down the makeshift pathway of stomped leaves and grass.