We walked for nearly three hours before Cain finally called a halt and declared it a suitable place to make camp. With so many of us, tasks were divided quickly and without argument.

  Illara and I were sent to gather firewood while Jenna and Cain began preparing dinner. Travelling in a group this large still felt unfamiliar to me. I was used to smaller numbers. Fewer variables.

  As we moved between the trees, snapping fallen branches and bundling dry sticks, I said quietly, “I think I know where Cain is taking us. When I first arrived in this world, I watched a goblin camp grow here over time. Eventually Cain and Jenna’s group found it and wiped them out.”

  Illara paused mid-reach. “What were the goblins like?”

  I tied twine around my bundle before answering. “Brutal. Hierarchical. Might was everything. The strongest males claimed breeding rights. The rest hunted, scavenged, obeyed. The guards mostly complained about how unfair the system was, ironically.”

  Illara blinked. “You could understand them?”

  I nodded. “Somehow, yes. I can understand every language here. I don’t know how it works. Even the language we’re speaking now isn’t the one I spoke in my old world.”

  She finished tying her bundle and looked at me with renewed curiosity. “That’s remarkable. What did your old language sound like? Say something.”

  I slipped back into English, my old accent colouring the words without thought. “I think you’re very cute, Illara.”

  She tilted her head. “I caught my name. That’s it. What did you say?”

  I repeated the sentence in Common.

  Her expression shifted instantly into something coy. “Geoff, you are such a charmer.”

  We resumed gathering wood, but she spoke again after a moment. “Will you teach me? Your old language. It could be our secret.”

  I considered it. Teaching had never been my strength, but the idea of sharing something truly mine felt… intimate.

  “All right,” I said. “But I expect effort. And perhaps rewards for good progress.”

  She stepped close enough to brush her lips briefly against mine. “I’m highly motivated.”

  We returned to camp with our bundles. The scent of simmering stew already hung in the air.

  “Thank you,” Cain said as we dropped the wood beside the fire pit.

  Jenna, however, motioned for me to step aside.

  Her expression had lost the softness it once carried years ago. This was not the hopeful young woman I had first met.

  “My children are here,” she said quietly, her voice level and sharp. “If anything happens to them, I will hold you responsible. And I will make sure you regret it. Do you understand?”

  I met her gaze and nodded.

  “I understand.”

  Her eyes did not soften.

  “You and I will take first watch together,” she continued. “That way I can ensure you don’t charm your way into slipping off. Or worse.”

  Again, I nodded.

  As she turned away, I let out a slow breath.

  This version of Jenna was formidable. Hardened.

  Perhaps watch duty would give me an opportunity to speak honestly with her. If I wanted her trust, there might be no choice but to tell her the truth.

  All of it.

  Dinner was serviceable for camp fare: a thin stew of foraged roots and greens bulked out with dried wolf meat.

  Harvey wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like this.”

  “Well,” Jenna replied evenly, “it’s what we have.”

  The other children looked similarly unimpressed but wisely kept quiet.

  After the bowls were scraped clean, bedding was laid out in a rough semicircle around the fire.

  “I want Drisnil sleeping apart from the rest of us,” Jenna said without preamble.

  Cain frowned. “That isn’t practical. She can sleep near Theo, Ash, and Illara.”

  Jenna’s jaw tightened. “Then I want someone watching her.”

  “That’s fine,” Theo said calmly.

  “I’ll take turns,” Cain added.

  I said nothing.

  When the arrangements were settled, the camp slowly quieted. Jenna and I took first watch.

  The forest at night carried its own weight. Wind through branches. The crackle of the fire. Distant movement.

  “Jenna,” I said quietly, keeping my voice low enough not to carry. “I don’t wish harm on you. Or your children.”

  She did not respond.

  “I want the best for your family. Truly. What would it take for you to believe that?”

  “You could leave,” she said evenly.

  “That isn’t an option. I promised to protect Illara.”

  “Evil things promise anything to reach their goals.”

  That stung more than I expected.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I drew in a slow breath.

  “What if I told you there are two minds in this body?” I said. “Drisnil… and someone else. A man named Geoff.”

  She turned then, studying me as though I’d finally revealed my madness.

  “That would be very convenient,” she said.

  “I can prove I was there twenty years ago,” I continued. “When you, Cain, Triss, Chris, and Norman came to clear the goblins from this forest.”

  “That’s not secret knowledge.”

  “No,” I agreed. “But your argument with Cain while gathering wood wasn’t recorded anywhere. Nor was the conversation about whether you should be honest about your relationship. That was the same night wolves circled your camp.”

  Her breath hitched.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I was there.”

  She stared at me.

  “We never saw you.”

  “You couldn’t,” I said quietly. “I had no body. I was only Geoff. Watching.”

  She searched my face for deception.

  “And you did nothing?”

  “I couldn’t. Not yet.”

  Silence stretched between us.

  “You remember the harvest,” I went on. “When I helped in the fields.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “That was me. Geoff.”

  “And the festival?” she asked carefully.

  “That was Drisnil. I let her surface to stop the attack.”

  Jenna’s expression hardened again. “If she can surface once, what stops her from doing it again?”

  “Me,” I said simply. “My will.”

  She did not look convinced.

  “When Ilza died giving birth to Illara,” I continued softly, “I made a promise. I would watch over her. However long it took. Whatever it required.”

  Jenna’s voice sharpened. “You are doing more than watching.”

  “I didn’t intend to fall in love with her,” I said. “But it happened. And denying it would have hurt her more.”

  Jenna studied me in the firelight.

  “Your story is too neat,” she said at last. “But I won’t dismiss it. I’ll speak to Cain tomorrow.”

  That was more than I had expected.

  We lapsed into silence. The fire popped and shifted. Once or twice she glanced at me, as though recalculating something she had thought settled.

  The forest felt closer than before.

  And less certain.

  The next morning I awoke to both Illara in Faie in bed with me, Faie curled up like a cat in front of me. It seems Faie is again finding it cold.

  I rolled over and face Illara, “Good morning” I smiled.

  “Good morning to you too” Illara replied.

  Faie behind me yawned, and stretched her arms.

  “Good morning” Faie also said.

  I got up to help with breakfast, and to move away from Faie, who was uncomfortably close.

  Faie then snuggled into Illara to utilise the warmth from where I slept, I felt a twinge of jealousy, but quickly shooed it away.

  Cain was already preparing some breakfast, a stew over a low fire.

  “Sleep well Drisnil?” he asked.

  “Yes, thankyou, and you?”

  “As well as possible, I’m glad that it isn’t raining.” Cain said quietly.

  I helped stir the pot while Cain readied his children for the day, I thought to myself that I would likely never have children, being in a female body with no interest in men made it practically impossible.

  Once everyone was up breakfast was ready, everyone seemed tired from a rough sleep. No one was speaking, just eating quietly.

  We all finished our food then packed up to leave quickly, Cain, spent some time scattering the camp to make it not too obvious where we had slept.

  We started to walk through the forest in a line, Cain and myself in front, followed by Jenna, Sera, Ash and the children, with Theo, Faie and Illara in the rear.

  The forest seemed quiet, the new spring causing the fresh growth to look bright green, the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the canopy.

  We walked carefully through the undergrowth, watching for any signs of trouble as we moved.

  The constant alertness was tiring, requiring focus to keep on task. The day stretched on, the forest looking like an endless sea of green.

  We eventually reached a suitable campsite by nightfall, everyone fell into their rhythm without much discussion, a full days walk had made everyone too exhausted for much more. Illara and I again left to find firewood for the night.

  Illara added another armful of wood to the pile, then turned to me with one eyebrow raised.

  “I think we’re far enough from camp,” she said lightly. “For something… private.”

  Before I could answer, she tugged her top upward just enough to make her meaning clear. “It’s been more than a day,” she added. “And I believe you owe me.”

  I laughed softly. “Only if you can say this phrase in English.”

  I leaned closer and spoke slowly, exaggerating each word. “Please have sex with me.”

  Illara squinted at me in concentration. “Pleece… lave… tex… dith me?”

  “Very close,” I said, trying not to grin. “Again.”

  She tried once more, tongue stumbling over unfamiliar sounds. “Please have sex with me?”

  It was imperfect, but enthusiastic.

  “Close enough,” I decided, stepping forward and pulling her into my arms.

  She kissed me immediately, warm and eager, her hands sliding beneath my shirt as if she had been waiting all morning. When we parted briefly, she narrowed her eyes playfully.

  “What did you make me say?”

  I translated it for her.

  Her answering smile was slow and wicked.

  Then she pulled my shirt over my head and kissed me again — this time lower, lingering in ways that made my breath hitch. The forest around us seemed to fade, replaced by warmth and sensation. When my knees finally gave out, we tumbled together into the soft undergrowth, laughing breathlessly before laughter gave way to something deeper.

  Illara’s touch grew more certain, more focused. Every kiss, every brush of her hands drew heat through me until the world narrowed to the space between us. I clutched at her shoulders, at the earth beneath us, overwhelmed in the best possible way as pleasure crested and broke over me in waves.

  She pulled back just long enough to look satisfied with herself.

  Then she shed the last of her own clothing and stood before me, entirely unbothered by the open air.

  “You’re not going to leave a girl like me unsatisfied,” she teased.

  I shook my head, smiling, and guided her down onto the grass.

  What followed was slower — deliberate. I kissed her the way she had kissed me, learning her reactions, memorising the sounds she tried and failed to suppress. Her hands tangled in my hair; her body arched beneath me. I took my time, matching my movements to her breath until her restraint dissolved entirely.

  When she finally trembled in my arms, she let out a soft cry she hadn’t meant to.

  Afterward, I traced my fingers lightly along her side, feeling her shiver at the gentlest touch.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling up at me. “I needed that.”

  “Anytime,” I replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

  For a few quiet moments, the forest returned — birdsong, wind through leaves, the distant crackle of camp. But the warmth between us lingered, private and shared.

  Then, reluctantly, we gathered ourselves — wood and dignity alike — and made our way back toward camp, attempting, and entirely failing, to look innocent.

  When we returned with our bundles, Sera’s smile was far too knowing.

  “You took your time gathering that wood,” she said sweetly. “Perhaps next time Ash and I should go instead. To collect wood. If you know what I mean.”

  I laughed before I could stop myself. “By all means. You’re welcome to gather as much wood as you like.”

  I paused, adjusting the bundle on my shoulder.

  “But we will expect actual branches when you come back.”

  Sera rolled her eyes, though she was still grinning.

  Behind me, Illara squeezed my hand once, quick and conspiratorial.

  The fire crackled as dusk settled properly over the clearing, and for the moment at least, everything felt almost normal.