Thistlesword the Valiant's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Thistlesword needed to understand her enemy better. She had spent centuries watching humans from the shadows, but watching wasn't enough anymore. She needed to know how they thought, how they spoke to each other, what made them trust or fear. Her children had never learned these things—they died too young. Now she would do what they couldn't. She slipped through the forest toward the nearest settlement, her hooves silent on the moss. A dirt path led to wooden buildings clustered together. She crouched behind a fence and listened. Two men argued about a broken plow. A woman called for her son. Simple words, simple lives. But she heard the cracks between the words—the doubt, the worry, the blame. Those cracks were where she would plant her poison. She smiled and backed into the trees. The first lesson was learned. But learning was only the beginning. She needed a way to track the humans when they moved through her forest. She returned to the war room and searched through the debris in the corner. Her fingers closed around something cold and smooth—a conch shell stained deep red, embedded with purple gems. She turned it over in her hands. When blown, the sound would carry through the trees and reach the war room, alerting her whenever humans approached. She set it on the stone table and studied it. Tomorrow she would place it where her scouts could use it. For now, she had what she needed. The humans spoke their language of suspicion and fear. She would learn to speak it better than they did.