Kortana's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Kortana knelt at the edge of the woodcutter's camp and set down a fresh handful of flowers. Four mornings now. The deer watched from the ferns. The old crow, who feared nothing, sat hunched on her shoulder and trembled. She would win this man over. She would turn his axe into a shield for her forest. A bright flutter cut through the trees. A pink songbird with purple hearts on its wings landed on her wrist, chirping fast and frightened. It tugged at her sleeve, then flew deeper into the woods. Kortana followed. The songbird led her to a clearing she did not know. A huge yurt stood there, glowing with lanterns and rich cloth, smoke curling from its roof. A stranger's camp. Beyond it, stones rose in a ring around a locked chest with a red gem pulsing inside. Each stone showed a dead creature carved deep. A tree above bore words about power taken under the full moon. Kortana's breath caught. The woodcutter felled trees one by one. This stranger planned to drain the whole forest in a single night. She touched the chest. It hummed. Only a blade of true power could break this ring, and she had seen such a blade resting against the woodcutter's stump — a great rune-marked axe that shimmered like cold water. She turned back toward the camp, the crow tight against her neck. Winning the woodcutter's heart was no longer a slow gift of flowers. She needed his axe by the next full moon, or there would be no forest left to protect.