Page 13 of Ashes, Apples, & Amorous Orcs

She lifts a frame heavy with honeycomb, holding it up to examine the cells in the slanted sunlight. Her smile spreads slow and satisfied, the expression transforming her face from merely pretty to something that makes my heart flutter. She says something to the bees, her tone warm with approval, and I find myself leaning forward to catch words I'll never hear from this distance.

A rookie mistake.

My boot comes down on a cluster of dried leaves, the sound cracking through the afternoon quiet like breaking bones. Every instinct I've honed over decades in the wild screams at the carelessness, but it's too late. The damage spreads through the forest floor in a cascade of rustling accusations.

Isolde's head snaps up immediately, her hazel eyes scanning the treeline with sharp intelligence. No panic, no fear—just focused assessment that would make any tracker proud. Her gaze finds mine through the shadows, and instead of alarm, something like amusement flickers across her features.

"It's been a few days since we've seen each other." She sets the honeycomb frame back in its place, her voice carrying easily across the clearing. No accusation in her tone, just simple observation.

Heat climbs my neck. I step out from behind the oak, abandoning any pretense of concealment. "Been busy tracking."

"Hunting too, I imagine." She removes her gloves with deliberate care, shaking out her dark curls where they've escaped their loose knot.

"Something like that."

She moves toward the small wooden table she's set up near her supplies, where a ceramic jug sits beside two mismatched cups. The mid afternoon light catches the golden embroidery along her sleeves—tiny flowers worked in thread that probably took hours to complete.

"Would you like some cider?" Her fingers hover over the jug's handle. "Mrs. Dalloway brought it by this morning with entirely too many questions about my 'mysterious forest protector.'"

The heat in my neck spreads toward my ears. "People talk."

"People breathe." She pours amber liquid into both cups, the sweet scent of apples and cinnamon drifting on the breeze. "It's what they do."

I accept the offered cup, our fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. Her skin feels warm and soft, nothing like the callused hands I'm used to dealing with. The cider tastes of autumn orchards and careful preparation, sweet without being cloying.

"What is it you do exactly?" She settles against the edge of her worktable, cup cradled between her palms. "I mean, I know you hunt and track, but what does that look like day to day?"

"I live on the other side of the forest, away from Thornak's territory, but I circle the forest area." The explanation comes easier than expected. "Make sure none of the dangerous wildlife gets into the village. Mountain cats, dire wolves, the occasional bear that's forgotten its place."

She nods slowly, her eyes studying my face with that same careful attention she gives her bees. "That must be lonely. You don't really come into the village much, do you? I never see you at the market."

"I go when I need supplies." I take another sip of cider, using the pause to consider my words. "Keep it short. Besides, it's not that lonely. The forest keeps me company the same way your bees keep you company."

"The forest talks back?"

"In its own way." I gesture toward the trees behind me. "Tells you when something's wrong, when predators are moving through, when storms are coming. You just have to know how to listen."

Her smile spreads slow and genuine, transforming her features into something that makes my chest do uncomfortable things. "Would you be willing to show me what forest life is really like?"

The question hangs between us like morning mist, delicate and potentially dangerous. My first instinct screams caution—the forest isn't a place for gentle beekeepers with embroidered sleeves and trusting smiles.

But the way she looks at me, like I'm something worth knowing rather than something to be tolerated, makes the refusal stick in my throat.

"Yes."

The word escapes before I can weigh the wisdom of it. Her face lights up with genuine delight, the kind of expression that makes reasonable decisions feel like distant concerns.

"Could we go now?" She sets down her cup with decisive finality. "The afternoon light is perfect, and I've been wondering what lies beyond those paths I'm not supposed to take."

Every practical instinct argues against it. The forest demands respect, preparation, proper gear. But she's already moving toward her supplies, pulling on a light cloak with the efficiency of someone accustomed to outdoor work.

"Now works."

I lead her past the apiary toward a deer trail that winds between ancient oaks. The path here stays wide enough for conversation but narrow enough to keep her close. She follows without complaint, her steps lighter than mine but surprisingly sure.

"Watch the roots here." I gesture toward a gnarled tangle that could catch an unwary ankle. "Forest will trip you if you're not paying attention."

"Like it has opinions about visitors?"