A prone figure lay with only a sliver of health and debuffs, including Hobbled, Poisoned, Exhausted, and Dehydrated. A nameplate revealed her as a level 19 orc huntress named Yula.

  The orc had somehow braided living vines into her hair—their tiny leaves provided the camouflaging effect of a ghillie suit. Her yellow-green skin complemented the camouflage, and one could say her complexion looked sallow if it didn’t carry connotations of poor health. Aside from her debuffs, she appeared very strong. Beneath the orc’s braided locks, pointed canines, sharp jaw, and high cheekbones appeared. Considering her alien appearance, she looked quite attractive in a punky sort of way.

  Yula stirred when we approached and said nothing as Charitybelle put her waterskin to her lips. After drinking, the orc weakly held her hand to our questions while ingesting more liquid. She had several surface wounds, but one on her leg looked critical. We could hear the shushing sound of the river nearby, so she must have been too injured to travel even a short distance to quench her thirst.

  With no warning, Charitybelle cast Rejuvenate and Restore on her.

  Fabulosa gripped her weapons.

  When the Dehydration debuff disappeared, Yula’s mana returned enough for her to cast a Cure Greater Poison spell on herself. Poison and Hobbled debuffs disappeared as she relaxed her posture.

  Healing someone over 10 levels above us seemed quite a gamble. But squandering the chance to make an ally was foolish and rude, so I followed Charitybelle’s example by offering cooked foodstuffs from my inventory.

  The orc’s unreadable face barely acknowledged us. At last, Yula nodded before eating one.

  Her lack of gratitude surprised me.

  After drinking more water, Yula spoke using the common tongue. “Wizout water, I would have fed ze animals.”

  The huntress enunciated without inflection or gratitude. She wasn’t imperious or callous but reflected on her mortality as a matter of fact. Yula spoke slowly with an air of composure, a pace that struck me as strong—as if nothing would rush her to the end of a sentence.

  I liked how Yula switched her Ws like Vs—so werewolf became verevolf. She also pronounced her L’s with the back of her tongue instead of the front.

  Yula sat up with effort and bowed her head. “To you, I owe my life. I am Yula.”

  We introduced ourselves, and I posed the first question. “What happened to you?”

  It seemed an obvious icebreaker since she looked at home in the wilderness. Leather armor covered her from head to toe. The only metalwork reinforced her kit with clasps, hooks, and buckles. Her headpiece featured a rear-facing pair of eyes and a mouth. It wasn’t a helmet or a mask but a false face. Perhaps it deterred predators who attacked their prey from behind.

  “I was ambush by goblins. Great Healer Charitybelle, I must know. You want Yula as slave, yes?”

  All three of us shook our heads and waved our hands, disabusing her of the taboo notion.

  “Ah! Zees ees good! Always wiz ze slaves, the green devils. Zey want me for mines. Yula ees for outdoors, not for deegging een dirt.”

  The orc gulped another draught of water. “Eef not slave, why save me? Humans at Fort Krek must fight orcs.”

  The three of us exchanged awkward looks. We learned a little about the orc and human fighting from visiting trainers in Belden’s military academy, but we didn’t know if the conflict remained active.

  Yula furrowed her brow and clarified in more straightforward terms. “I am orc. You are human. You must be outcast, yes?”

  Charitybelle gestured downstream. “Oh, no. We aren’t running from anyone—if that’s what you mean. We’re thinking of establishing a hunting lodge.” She didn’t launch into her dream of castles and economic empires—which was just as well. This huntress might not receive news of encroaching settlements with enthusiasm.

  “Always building, you humans. Dwarves build down—humans build up.”

  Yula’s observations amused me, but her expression displayed no hint of humor. When she looked ready to stand, I offered a helping hand.

  Yula recoiled and considered my gesture with caution.

  “Let me help you up.” I felt foolish since she looked twice as strong.

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  Yula eventually accepted my grasp.

  I pulled and helped her stand. The ritual seemed new to her, and she studied my face to see if she acted as expected.

  I nodded to set her at ease.

  “I am walking again. Zank you, Healer Charitybelle! May you die quickly.” She bowed with reverence to my girlfriend, whose brows furrowed at the dubious blessing.

  To me, the unspoken topic regarded our imminent safety. I gestured down the river banks toward the patrol path along the river. “Are we okay here? Do we need to leave?”

  “Goblin only surfaces at night and zees ees not zeir land. Green devils belong inside hill.”

  The orc paused and regarded the patrol path more carefully. “Ees strange zey walk so close to reever. Green devils sink een water. Cannot sweem.” She made a swimming motion to emphasize her point.

  It still wasn’t clear if we occupied hostile territory, and standing around and chatting seemed foolhardy.

  Fabulosa shifted her weight with impatience. “Are these your hunting grounds?”

  Yula dismissively waved at the distant Bluepeaks. “Stream sweeps me here. I lose footing crossing reever at night. Ees foolish, but was tracking moose. Eet was bad luck goblins see me. But Yula ees strong, like bugbear. She survive ambush.”

  Fabulosa nodded. “You fixin’ to head back north?”

  “I will hunt green devils unless eet muddies your water.”

  Fabulosa offered her hand without looking at us for consent or agreement. “Tracking goblins suits us if you’re looking for allies.”

  Charitybelle and I nodded in affirmation. Having a survival expert would help us recon the area. Yula wasn’t familiar with this terrain but provided an excellent mentor for wilderness skills.

  “I would welcome comrades.” Yula ignored Fabulosa’s extended hand, grabbed her shoulders, and gave her a hard shake.

  Charitybelle and I smiled as Fabulosa’s eyes grew wide in alarm. But Yula’s firm grip kept Fabulosa from losing balance on the slippery embankment.

  We followed Yula along the river trail with nervous grins. As we walked, the orc gave us her story, describing a vendetta with the orc high council and its newly appointed emperor. They persecuted their rivals, including Yula’s clan, and she fled her homeland to escape the status of an untouchable. She loved her people but undermined the emperor’s authority whenever possible.

  Yula ended her tale with a declaration. “Checking leader power was once orc way. Eenstead of crushing elf and human like bug, orc fight orc. Yula is alone and far from her mountain—but ees free.”

  I looked toward the riverbank for more signs of passage. “How often do orcs travel this far south?”

  Yula shook her head but uttered no elaboration, implying an unconcern for orcs and goblins.

  Charitybelle nervously smiled while giving Yula her sales pitch about Hawkhurst. “Would you be opposed to a human settlement a few hours south? Would you mind if we made a trade route to Fort Krek?”

  Yula thought for a while before answering—a pause prefixed all her responses. The break in conversation grew so long that, for a moment, it wasn’t clear if the orc understood Charitybelle’s question.

  “Human veellage shames emperor. Poot entire Redbone Clan in uproar! Yula will help you een zees.” She smashed a fist into her palm. “Peaceful trade ees good bait.”

  Charitybelle’s eyes widened.

  I patted her back reassuringly. Yula’s advice and friendship would be invaluable.

  We gave her a brief account of our wilderness adventures, starting from the flatboat and through the valley between the Bluepeaks and Highwall mountains.

  Yula seemed unimpressed by our battles, as if we described what we ate for breakfast. She changed the subject by gesturing to Charitybelle. “Ees Great Healer Charitybelle your woman?”

  Charitybelle blushed, then flashed me a smile.

  I grinned and nodded.

  “She ees beautiful—has good skull. Would make fine trophy.”

  Fabulosa guffawed as Charitybelle returned a nervous grin. I couldn’t help but smile, as it comforted me to hear Fabulosa laugh again, but our response to Yula’s compliment puzzled the huntress.

  Miles upstream, the goblin trail veered from the river uphill into the trees. From time to time, Yula stopped to inspect the ground. She showed us marks in the underbrush and answered our questions about tracking. The canopy of trees prevented us from seeing where we were, but the interface map showed us climbing the base of a hill miles south of Iremont.

  Yula assured us we were close to goblins, but she pinpointed their hideout with mathematics, not tracking. After learning of the cairn at Hawkhurst Rock lay a few hours away, she reasoned goblins only ventured far enough to return to their cave by sunrise—a half-a-day journey at most. Since goblins traveled at night, the cairn rested less than six hours from their base.

  “We attack een morning, when green devil sleep.”

  When we set up camp for the evening, I threw the rope to the Dark Room, but the magic room did not impress the huntress.

  Yula’s expression conveyed disapproval over the portable sleeping quarters. “I sleep een woods.” She surprised us again by building a fire.

  Fabulosa hesitantly helped with gathering kindling. “Isn’t it dangerous to start campfires in goblin territory?”

  The huntress didn’t look up from her work. “Green devils do not smell so good on surface.”

  Yula played Prometheus and showed us how to build a proper campfire. She hollowed out a firepit in the ground and dug out a short ventilation tunnel. The feeder tunnel brought fresh air, making the fire hotter and producing less smoke and smell. At night, the earthen cavity concealed the flames.

  Yula cooked some talax ram, which tasted like cooked mutton. She supplied boiled roots, herbs, nuts, and vegetables, making a flavor so strong it eclipsed the gamey meat. Before I drifted to sleep, I checked my survival skill and saw that it had risen to rank 8—a fitting end to a productive day.

  Before the sun rose, we dropped the rope and slipped outside into a light rain. We impressed the orc by waking up before dawn. None of us admitted we used our interface alarms, for it wasn’t clear if she knew the difference between players and NPCs.

  After eating leftovers for breakfast, we set our sights on finding Yula’s green devils.

  We made our way up the hill, following the goblin trail until it crisscrossed other paths. I didn’t know if the drizzle of rain spoiled our tracking efforts, but Yula’s Vegetable Communion kept us moving in the same direction.

  “Zere are gobleens here. We close to hole.”

  Routes snaked in every direction, but we found a converging path. It passed piles of earth, broken mining tools, and rotten sacks. A row of emaciated dwarven corpses reminded us of whose territory we traveled. The goblins had discarded their workforce like spent resources.

  Yula seemed less shaken than my fellow players, but the sight of dead dwarves did not go without comment. “Zees ees why we hunt green devil.”

  When the trail led to a hole in the mountain, my policy toward goblins became KOS—kill on sight.