Fiora slept deeply that night. Even though the heat still clung to her skin, she finally had something she had lacked for a long time—hope.
When her husband returned, there would be no more mosquitoes. The nights might even grow cooler with a thin blanket.
That morning, Brakka came to check on Fiora.
"I heard humans need fire to cook their food. Want me to make it now?" he asked.
Fiora pointed to the area in front of the cave where charcoal marks already stained the ground. That was where she usually cooked.
Brakka took two flat stones and struck them together over a pile of dry leaves, patiently coaxing a flame to life.
While focusing on the fire, Brakka spoke in what he thought was a whisper. She knew it was not a whisper at all. That was simply Brakka's normal voice. His voice was always louder than it needed to be.
"Don't tell the other beastmen about the Leader's hunting results," Brakka said.
