Chapter 3 Into Mooncrest

• The forest greeted us with a hush that wasn’t quite silence. The kind of stillness that cradled sound, rather than smothered it. Birdcalls rippled through the trees in uneven intervals, and the occasional flutter of wings stirred the foliage above. It was wild, but not hostile. Just—watchful. Like the woods were waiting to see what we would do.
• Ravnir moved ahead of me, steady and unhurried. He seemed at ease despite the distance we had to travel. With each step, I studied him. His gait was silent, almost predatory, but his back was never turned entirely toward me. A subtle habit. Protective. Intentional.
• He didn’t speak often, and neither did I.
• Not because I didn’t want to, but because every moment in this strange world demanded my full attention. The light filtering through the trees changed hue with the hours. I saw plants I recognized from the System's earlier prompts—some with minor healing properties, others poisonous unless prepared precisely. The air itself was different too—thicker, more alive, as if the spirit energy permeating the realm pulsed beneath the very soil.
• [Alert: Area scan complete. Proximity to Mooncrest territory increasing. Projected arrival in 2.3 hours.]
• That voice chimed like a bell in my mind, metal-smooth and absolute. I blinked and dismissed it.
• I couldn’t explain the tension inside me, not fully. Every step I took toward this village brought me closer to people who might ask questions I wasn’t ready to answer. I was the only human here. The only one who saw the world through two lenses—science and spirit. I held secrets I didn’t understand yet, carried gifts I hadn’t earned.
• And walking beside me was a male who might one day share a bond with me deeper than any vow.
• [Mate Candidate: Active proximity. Link formation dormant. System reserves compatibility guidance unless triggered by user intent or mutual consent.]
• "You're quiet," Ravnir said, breaking the silence like a branch that bent but didn’t snap.
• "So are you," I replied, lips quirking despite myself.
• He glanced at me over his shoulder, and for a moment, his icy gaze softened. "You watch the forest like someone raised in it."
• "I listen better than I speak," I admitted. "Sometimes silence gives you more answers."
• That earned a faint nod from him, like he respected the logic more than the sentiment.
• We pressed forward, the forest deepening around us. The moss was thick underfoot, the roots knotted with memory. At one point, Ravnir brushed aside a low-hanging branch for me and said quietly, "You walk like you belong here."
• "That’s debatable," I murmured, but a flicker of warmth stirred in my chest.
• Hours passed in steady silence. The sun had risen and moved toward its descent, painting long shadows through the trees.
• At one point, Ravnir paused and glanced at the sky. “We’ll rest here. I’ll hunt. Don’t wander far.”
• I nodded and lowered myself onto a fallen log as he slipped away into the underbrush.
• The silence left in his wake was not uncomfortable. I looked around, catching my breath, taking in the world.
• My hair had mostly dried, the strands now a bit fuzzy from the wind and movement. A few twigs and leaves clung to it, evidence of our path. I tried to smooth it down with little success, and eventually gave up with a huff.
• Nearby, a small cluster of low-growing plants caught my eye—green with pale purple blooms and soft, velvety leaves.
• [Identification: Whisperleaf. Minor calming agent. Use in teas or poultices to ease tension and sleep disturbances. Mildly toxic if boiled too long. Caution advised.]
• I crouched to examine the plant more closely. “So pretty,” I murmured, brushing a finger along the petals.
• A memory stirred—nights back on Earth spent brewing herbs under moonlight, guiding patients with gentle hands and firmer words. That skill still had a place here. It grounded me.
• Leaves rustled nearby. I rose instinctively, but it was only Ravnir, emerging from the trees with two plump hare-like creatures in hand. He held one up with a slight grin.
• “Dinner.”
• I raised an eyebrow. “Do you expect me to eat that raw?”
• Ravnir blinked, then tilted his head. “Do you only eat fruits and plants?”
• With a long, drawn-out breath, I crossed my arms. “I eat meat. I eat fruits. I eat plants. But I don’t eat my meat raw—my teeth aren’t made for that.”
• There was a brief pause. Then Ravnir’s lips quirked as if suppressing amusement. Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the trees again.
• When he returned, he carried a modest bundle of forest fruits in one hand. “For now,” he said simply, handing them over.
• I took the fruit with a hum of approval. “Now that’s more like it.”
• We ate in quiet comfort as the forest shifted once again. By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, a change came over the land. The trees thinned. The scent of smoke curled into the air, faint but steady—hearthfire, tamed and familiar. My heart beat a little faster.
• “We’re close,” Ravnir said, glancing at the amber sky. “Just past the ridge. We’ll arrive at dusk.”
• We crested a small hill, and the world opened.
• Mooncrest was nestled in a basin surrounded by trees and stone, its buildings crafted from dark wood and white stone, arranged in a spiral pattern around a central gathering square. Fires were lit in tall iron braziers, casting dancing shadows against the evening light. Beastmen moved through the village with purpose, their forms distinct yet varied.
• Some were in their humanoid form—tall males with visible ears, tails, and the occasional gleam of fang when they spoke. Their skin was like any human’s—bronzed, tan, or pale depending on lineage. Others strode through in full beast form—massive wolves, sleek felines, bears lumbering beside gathering baskets, or avians perched on beams.
• Children darted between buildings, laughter echoing in the wind. Some rode the backs of their beast-form kin. Females walked with grace, often with mates at their side, dressed in furs and beads, eyes alight with a quiet authority I recognized.
• A stir echoed near the village gate as we approached. The guards stiffened with recognition, and eyes shifted to me—wrapped in Ravnir’s cloak, my legs bare, hair still wild from our trek.
• A tall, lean male stepped forward from the watch post. His ears flicked, and his gaze lingered far too long.
• [Scan Result: Male Beastman - Panther type, Age: 147, Rank: Warrior. Detected condition: Mild digestion imbalance. Suggest warm bitterroot tea before meal; avoid raw prey for three nights.]
• “You’re not mated, are you?” he asked boldly, flashing a sharp grin. “You’re pretty. If you’re open to courtship—”
• “Might want to court your stomach first,” I said sweetly, tilting my head. “Bitterroot tea before meals. You’ve got the look of someone who's regretted a raw midnight snack one too many times.”
• The male blinked. One of the guards barked a laugh and slapped the male on the back. “She’s got teeth, this one! Didn’t even flinch.”
• “You always move too fast, Halren,” another guard called out. “Maybe try a flower next time instead of your face.”
• Ravnir didn’t say a word, but his smile was unmistakable, quick and rare. He stepped closer to me as the warriors gave space for us to pass.
• “Welcome to Mooncrest,” Ravnir said, voice low, edged with quiet pride.
• He didn’t touch me. He didn’t need to.
• For now, I was safe.
• And everything was about to begin.