The dogs that surround us look as though they are completely tame- which is obvious because there are thick rope collars around their necks. There's one with a muzzle that looks like it has run into several walls, and there's another with white blotches over its body in random places.
I hear whistling in the distance, and the sound of people shouting at each other, but- before I can call out- the dogs start surrounding us and growling.
I decide to stay quiet and see where this line of questioning will take me.
Hopefully it doesn't take me to an early grave, or worse- a prison cell on a street corner, like the ones I saw back in my hometown.
Soon, a group of five hunters  burst into the clearing, their faces painted with tar-black nomad's paint.
The dogs run to their human companions, and the humans feed treats to the creatures to reward them for catching something, even if the catch is human.
Mila crawls behind me, her hands pulling me close to her for both comfort and protection.
The tallest nomad sinks to one knee and glares at us through her paint-lined eyes. Her hand never leaves her weapon- a long spear almost as tall as she is, and I wonder if it is because she doesn't trust her balance, or if she is simply making sure that she can access it in a heartbeat if we give her any grief.
Her flame-red hair is done up in intricate plaits, and hangs to her mid-back- not a single strand appears out of place- while her face reminds me of an eagle's- all sharp, very refined and no doubt a hunter.
She's dressed in a green tunic that reaches mid-thigh, and a long brown cloak lined with grizzled fur is pinned at her neck with a steel brooch in the shape of a wolfs head.
She's very tall, and more than a little intimidating, but I force myself to look her in the eye.
If I show her that I am not afraid, then perhaps she will not harm me. Or maybe she will take us along with her group so she can get rid of us at the nearest town.
Either of these options would be preferable to being mauled by one of the great beasts that flank the group and growl at us occasionally to remind us who's boss.
The woman stands up and makes a gesture for us to stand as well, and I pull Mila to her feet quickly, not wanting to be on the receiving end of her spear's business end.
We are grabbed roughly by two of the other troop members- a small woman, and a man only a bit taller than her- and our hands are tied in front of us both to restrain us, and give our captors some amount of ease in dragging us along.
The dog with the blotches sticks to the leader like glue, his bushy tail wagging furiously, and this earns him an uncountable number of pats and scratches behind the ears.
After what seems like hours of walking, we finally arrive at the nomad's campsite, and I'm surprised to see two more people in the camp.
This is a huge group by nomad standards, and I wonder if this group actually began as two groups, but got mashed into a single one by unfortunate circumstances.
If so, then the living vines may be affecting more than just this forest.
Mila and I are forced to sit down, and we both groan quietly when this jostles new injuries.
The leader stands in front of us and fixes us both with a harsh glare before extending a water canteen.
I accept the canteen gratefully and wonder what I can do to avoid being skewered by her spear, or accidentally offend her. Neither outcome would be favorable for us, but I'm sure that this woman would shrug our deaths off like a bird shrugs rainwater off of its wings.
She clears her throat, and starts to speak, and her voice is harsh, like she gargles with broken glass. Her voice holds a quiet authority to it.
" where are you from? You have intruded far from our borders, and- if I follow the rules- I have full permission to slaughter you and feed you to our dogs."
My response is impulsive.
" wouldn't they get indigestion?"
The woman narrows her eyes at me before standing up.
" I am Aife, the Grief-bringer. These are my people, the Jaka-ii tribe. We used to be many in number, but we were driven from our home by the Neromee people. Our numbers have been decimated since the initial attack, and we need a bargaining chip to gain our way back into society, and regain our captured people. My own daughters, Cahira and Andraste, were kidnapped and forced to marry two lords, and I don't know what happened to them."
I gulp and bite my tongue, because I have a very good idea of what happened to her daughters. None of my theories end well for Aife's daughters.
The Neromee are a proud people, and they are constantly at war with someone.
They take few prisoners, and only leave a few survivors to tell their story, and warn other people that messing with the Neromee only ends in tears for the attacked party.
But this Aife woman has some potential, and she could actually have a chance of taking down the Neromee empire if she gets enough followers.
I decide to ask her if she has seen the moving vines, but the cloud of threatened tears in her eyes stops me.
Aife stands up, leaning heavily on her spear for support.
" many of our warriors have been murdered, and our allies have retreated into the forest. We need more people." she looks at us with an inquiring expression, and I get a sinking feeling that she wants us to join her gang.
She grabs me by the wrist, and pulls me to my feet. Then she smears black paint around my eyes, and draws what feels like a horizontal line over my nose and cheeks.
She kneels by Mila, and is about to do the same, but she stops when she sees the ragged wounds that have been inflicted on Mila's neck.
Her gaze darkens dangerously, and her eyes fall into shadows, just like my mom's eyes used to before she turned to yet another bottle to escape her problems.
One of the other members of the group- a lean woman with silvery hair that glistens in the sparse light of the forest- drops down beside me from her perch in a tree.
" Aife, there is a troop headed this way from the town... should we attack or hide?"
Aife considers the notion before making a purposefully vague hand gesture.
" we only fight if confronted. We are not savages who live for the thrill of conquering the helpless. Otherwise, we merely wait and see what they will do. Thank you for warning me Gwynhoiarn."
I can't help snorting at the odd name, but this causes the woman to glare at me.
As if on cue, I hear loud curses coming from the surrounding forest, and it seems to echo around the chilled morning air.
Gwynhoiarn.. I think that's how her name is pronounced, drags me into a nearby thicket, and the dog with the squished muzzle joins us with the fur of its hackles standing straight up.
The group of soldiers stumbles into the clearing a few minutes later, obviously annoyed to their wit's end by this trek into the middle of nowhere, but only the tallest- a man with  curly red hair and a scar across his nose- dares to speak his mind. And he does so with mumbled curses scattered between most of his words.
" Albus, we have been marching in circles for hours now, can we PLEASE take a break before my legs fall off?"
I start to hope that the leader will not take his subordinate's suggestion, but he does, and my heart sinks. There are five soldiers in the company, and they all wear armor and carry lethal-looking weapons that are attached via belt to the right side of their armor.
There are small changes from person to person- for example, the leader wears a simple golden bracelet around his left wrist, while the scarred redhead's belt has a blue eagle insignia in the middle, framed by tawny leather. The smallest man's armor is laced quite loosely around his belly, but otherwise is laced tightly- especially around his chest.
The other soldiers start to follow his lead, and the redhead snorts.
" someone check Felix for a head injury, he ran into at least five branches by my count, and I don't want to carry his stinking carcass out of this Jever-forsaken forest."
The smallest man glares at the redhead, but is distracted when another man puts one arm around him. I assume that the smaller one is Felix, but I have no clue about the larger man.
" go to the crows Ferox, my Felix has too thick of of a skull to be injured by mere branches."
' Ferox' snorts and shakes his head.
" figures that you would protect him, Leontinus." he laughs harshly, and the dog at Gwynhoiarn's side bristles at the intrusive sound.
'Felix' turns towards his protector with a small smile, but he does not provide any input to the discussion. I wonder why he doesn't defend himself in this verbal battle, but perhaps he is so exhausted by the hike that he needs to conserve his energy instead of arguing with his companions.
A woman stumbles into the clearing with an armful of plants, and her hair is pinned from her face with a simple band of silver around her head. The nomad's paint under her eyes betrays the fact that she belongs to Aife's group, and the soldiers are not unaware of this fact.
The one with the scar stands up quickly and draws his weapon from his belt.
" you're the advisor of the Queen of Grief, aren't you?" he snarls, and my heart sinks when I realize that there are only a few ways that this encounter can end for the woman. Neither of the options allow for escape.
She seems calm though, and doesn't bat an eyelash at the armed man, instead choosing to pull a bowl and pressing tool from a hollow in a nearby tree. Then she begins to sing a haunting melody that commands the attention of everyone in the clearing, whether they are hidden or not.
The scarred man seems unaffected by the enchanting tune, and marches toward the woman with a scowl on his face and a sword in his hand.
" answer me you witch." he hisses, and raises his sword for a blow that will no doubt be crippling, but he never gets the chance to swing, because the sword is displaced by Aife's spear, which misses his hand by about an inch, perhaps two, but it has the desired effect of scaring the snot out of the man and his companions.
She emerges from the trees slowly, and puts herself between the soldier and the woman with the plants. Her expression says that she is thoroughly fed up with the soldier's antics.
One of the soldiers leaps into action, and doesn't think that this might be a bad idea until Aife holds a dagger to his throat. I have no doubt that she will kill him if provoked.
The smallest man steps forward, then sinks to his knees, apparently surrendering himself to Aife's wrath. He looks up at her, meeting her eyes with only a trace of fear.
" My lady, may I ask a favor of you? If not, then I will be forced to engage you in combat."
Aife has to stifle her laughter at how ridiculous this statement sounds, but her laughter dies when the man starts undoing his armor. I notice that his belly seems to be swollen in an unhealthy way- no doubt it must be inconvenient to walk around with his armor and belly weighing down on him.
Aife's eyes widen, but narrow almost in the same moment.
" what will you request? She growls.
The plant woman has retrieved AIfe's spear for her, and extends it to her with a semi-mocking bow. Aife takes it without a visible reaction, her stunning eyes firmly fixed on the man on the floor.
The man gulps, then coughs awkwardly.
" I would ask that you would spare my love, so that our child will not have to grow up lacking one of their parents."
The silence in the clearing is tangible, and I'm fairly sure that the slightest sound would tear reality into shreds.
Aife releases the man and shoves him towards his partner.
" get out of here before I change my mind about killing you." she snarls.
The group nearly sprints out of the clearing, and I stumble out of the trees.
Mila beats me to asking questions though, and I'm slightly bitter about that, but I choose not to dwell on the issue.