-From Canticles: 3:24-25
If I could get to that abandoned smithy, there would be more than enough bricks for me.
Delre’s boots echoed against the massive stone stairs, which were wide, as if designed to accommodate soldiers in plate. Hobnails clacking against the new stone made to look old with wire brushes, they led up to what would be the bathhouse’s boiler room.
This was clearly one of the many high points of the original ancient Salkov that had been sunken by the emperor’s magic. And Delre could tell it was one of the oldest sections because of how well it was still holding up after all this time. With the new stone there were brass fittings and handrails artificially aged with acid, plaster statues pretending to be marble, and brass instead of gold leaf if her guess was correct.
Pyrite instead of gold. Every time. She shook her head. Even to pretty up their back door. Del snorted at that double entendre.
As she passed, Delre gave a nod to the group of Syndicate members loitering there. Guarding the way up. Hard eyes in a multitude of colors set in black sclera stared, though they nodded their horned heads back. Their tails twitched and undulated as they conversed with each other in silence using that odd tail-language of theirs.
The boilers were of Dvundae scale, which was to say, massive. Great brass things that gleamed like so much precious treasure still in the middle of fabrication. The baths would need all of the heat they could maintain, the Syndicate wanted to keep it open to the sky year-round. She had heard that from some of the engineers.
Even through the snowy winters. Not really cold compared to the mountains, but cold enough to not want to have her girls out to wash unless the place was heated somehow.
Del wished that it could be as simple as syphoning some of the heat down to the base or snatching more aethercoals from them, a handful here or there.
Might as well wish goats could fly.
They would be guarded heavily ‘round the clock, being worth four times their weight in gold. Del knew just how lucky she had been to find any at all.
But maybe I could get something else here…
Things like piles and piles of building materials. Bricks, mortar, lumber, nails. She noted several wooden cases, buffed with wax and with bright clasps. The word ‘carving’ in Dvundae runes was burned onto the lid of each case.
Need to snag one of those on the way back. Her tools were pretty basic, but those boxes should have the full set. And shrooms don’t deserve them.
Delre froze, mid-thought.
It was her bare bright red hobgoblin skin that did it.
Eye catching, like coral jewelry.
Exposed from wrists to shoulders, the overalls tied at the waist leaving just a sleeveless undershirt covering the woman's top.
She was tattooed wonderfully with thin black lines, depicting many things. Doves, anchors, sea serpents, fully rigged ships on crashing waves. Almost like scrimshaw.
Unseen by either, one of the statues to the Mistress of the Sea looked in their direction. A slow sharky smile growing across Her lips before returning to Her original visage.
Thin scars marred a couple of the tattoos on the hob's forearms, but they only added to the allure as far as Del was concerned.
Can take care of herself. Maybe that was what she should look for in partners now?
You just like the idea of this Hovenni. She grinned ruefully, curious about some of the tattoos that weren’t fully visible. Curious about that space between the other woman’s neck and her shoulder.
She sighed, aware of just how hopeless she was.
Being on the Syndicate building site shunted her thoughts in an amorous direction, her eyes running along lithe shoulders and toned arms. The Hob also had an angular feminine face, and a simple ponytail held with a plain blue cord.
And then she realized that the woman had noticed her as well, meeting her eyes.
Tydrik.
Enchanting orange eyes. Bright, like coals, or even citrines. Full of mystery and open interest.
Talk about a smoldering gaze. Delre knew she was hopeless at that point, doomed to play this out to whatever end it reached.
The Hobgoblin smiled.
Delre felt herself flush, though she managed to smile back.
The Hovenni turned and said something to her companions, simple ponytail flowing with the movement, her hair onyx black and perfectly straight. The friends noticed Del and laughed, waving to the hob and heading off on their own.
She patted her pockets reflexively, looking down as she did, searching for a cigar that wasn’t there to calm herself.
Damn and damn again. Still out of smokes. And I’m up here to solve the problems down in the hideout, not ogle attractive women.
“Here!”
She looked up and caught a paper package out of the air. The Hobgoblin woman had tossed it to her, coming closer.
Del looked at it, seeing a depiction of a mushroom on the front. Not a specific one, just a symbol. “Wait, no, I can't take this!” She said. It was much too rich of a gift if it was what she thought it was. She took the other woman’s hand and placed the package back into it.
She moisturizes…
She was also wearing some sort of perfume. Something exotic that Del hadn’t smelled before.
“Oh yes you can, muscles.” She said with a smooth smirk, opening up the paper package and pulling out a dark cigar.
Sparks and scale.
Del swallowed convulsively, aching for a smoke as well as other things. The Hovenni placed the cigar between her own dark, full lips. Making a third orange circle as she lit the end with a match from her pocket.
She looked down at Delre as the thick, sweet smoke wreathed her face, making those orange eyes look even more like coals. The Hovenni placed the cigar between her lips before Del could react, still lit, soothing smoke filling the Dvundae’s mouth. Red fingers lingering at the stitches on Del’s face. The Dvundae felt her heart skip just for a moment.
Gods… Gods and gleaming gold.
It had been a while since someone had dowsed Delre, and if she was honest, it was a bit refreshing.
“How am I supposed to pay for these then? Hmm?” The cigar waggling slightly as she asked, feeling a faint heat build in her face. A stoking fire. She had run out of the things four days ago, and her words puffed out of her mouth as she spoke with one lit between her lips.
It felt like it had been far longer since… well… her physical needs had been met, and Delre’s body wasted no time in reminding her as the Hovenni moved closer still.
“I can think of a few ways, though I’d at least want to know your name. I'm Hux.” The Hob kept stroking Del’s cheek, eyeing the fresh scar.
“Delre.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She took a slow pull, getting a more complete taste of the smoke.
Yep. Tovrik. The humans called it smolderleaf, which wasn't a leaf at all but a cave mushroom, and it was incredibly rare so far from the kingdom.
She took the cigar out, “Hux, I'm not really looking for-”
“Not looking for anything permanent.” The Hobgoblins fingers ran just under her hairline, a gentle caress.
Coins and gems…
“Neither am I.” Hux moved back, her smile becoming a grin. Leaving Del aching for more.
“What are you looking for from this then?” Del wanted to be sure.
“Whatever I can get away with,” Orange eyes looked at the cigar, and the smile became less “Besides, that’s not as dear a gift as you seem to think. They just started shipping them in from Dur'ak-Ostal.”
“What? Really?” Embarrassment washed away. Delre had to buy some, it was so much better than any leaf that the topsiders ever grew.
Wait… Dur’ak-Ostal? That backwater? As far as she knew it was unclaimed. Whatever, didn’t matter. “Where'd you get these?”
The worker smiled. “Now that will cost you, Delre.”
Del found herself grinning. Trapped, eh? “Oh? How much?” She said.
“Make me an offer.” Hux replied. finding her own first, lighting the cigar for the dwarf, shaking the match out before tossing it to the stone floor.
Delre grinned. “I have an idea, depending on where you got them.”
Hux told her, and the Dwarf knew exactly where that was. It seemed that the Coinmaker was pushing her back towards her past. Back to the Sparks.
Del moved through the streets of the old city, Hux at her side. Grime on the cobbles muffled the hobnails of their boots as they trudged along. Thick, richly flavored smoke trailed behind her as she strode through the press of people, savoring her cigar.
Hux moved closer, her gloves in her pocket, her hand sliding onto the back of Del's neck, gently massaging it.
Grist and gravel… It was like magic, it felt so good. She let out a contented smoke filled sigh.
“Just over here, be right back.” Hux said, pointing at a squat two story building.
“You live over a teashop?” The sign read ‘Tales and Teapots’. It looked cozy enough, and Del waved at the Oshkar and Belmaian couple who looked to be the owners. The two men waved back with knowing smiles.
“Rent's cheap, and nobody to worry about at night.” Hux said, already jogging up the stairs. “Be right back.” She repeated.
Well at least we're both a bit nervous. She took a long pull on the cigar, savoring the flavor.
The process of preparing the tovrik mushrooms, which looked like gray versions of turkey tail mushrooms, required soaking them for months on end. Usually in some sort of alcohol. Then the mushrooms were dried, first in the sun, and then in a smoker.
Because of that, each pull was like taking a leisurely sip of some warmed brandy, or a lovely spoonful of beef stew, or thick like the best winter stout. The flavor wasn't quite any of those, nor was it all of them at once, but the comparison, in Del's opinion, was an apt one.
And given that it was still a little chilly, that was a welcome thing. Any colder and I'd see my breath.
With the chill coming on it was unlikely that Hux would wear something that revealing on their date.
And do I even want that though? She gave it some thought, blowing out rings of smoke. Sure, it would be fun, but it was so sudden…
No… Just some company. She'd take it slow for now, and she knew she needed the chance to unwind. If things changed, she would let them, but she was perfectly happy with a date, maybe a little flirting, but nothing more than that.
Something caught the corner of her eye and she glanced in that direction, not quite looking at the target, settling for a butcher's shop instead.
Someone, wearing dark clothes, stood in the alleyway, and was talking to someone else. She casually slowed, looking back the other way so that she could catch a clearer look of the pair.
It was a fiendkin, talking to the most bedraggled old beggar she had ever seen. Gap toothed, dirty, and bug eyed. Usually they were the ones who made or bought cheap liquor, ones that tried to forget their troubles.
The bum offered some tarnished silver coins, his hands shaking, and he got a little paper pouch that he opened on the spot. Variegated green and white leaves, dried crispy and pressed into a tiny half inch cube. It vanished into the old man’s mouth his missing teeth making his face a caricature as he sucked on them, collapsing in on itself.
His bugged out eyes closed slightly, the pupils dilating. He flowed away from the fiendkin, staggering down the alley, swaying like a tree in high wind.
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More kiphos. It's gotta be. She had her vices, but she didn’t like the idea of scaleleaf. And these Syndicate bastards are selling it. Where were they getting it?
“Right, let's go!” Hux said coming down the stairs, in a fresh button down shirt, and some plain black trousers. She had a man's coat on as well. It was simple, but she looked good in it, taking Del’s arm and giving it a squeeze, feeling the muscle.
They chatted the whole way. Del talked about growing up before the occupation, of the wonders of the mountains. And Hux talked about spending her early years aboard ship.
They both stuck to light topics. Neither opening up too much lest they ruin the mood as they walked through the west gate and over the bridge, heading to her old haunt.
The File and Rasp.
“So when did old Gorthar start getting tovrik shipped in?” Delre asked as they got through the gate into the western half of the city.
“You know him?”
“Yeah, used to work together.”
“Wait… were you-”
“Hux, a girl has to have some secrets.” Though she wasn’t talking about those.
Hux moved closer as the wind blew harder, pressing against Del, “Well he started getting some shipments not too long ago. Some lone dwarf off somewhere in the mountains.”
“Homesteading?”
“Yeah, and pretty good at it too from how the barkeep talks.” Hux said, stepping a bit closer to move around someone going the other direction. Hux kept close, glancing down with expectant orange eyes, leaning a bit closer still.
Del slid her arm out of Hux’s grip, sliding it around her waist instead. A small smirk spread across Hux's full lips. It felt good to have a gorgeous woman next to her again, even if she made Del feel stunted.
“Hux, what are you expecting out of this?” She asked, holding the woman close as they walked. What do I want out of this?
“A lovely date with a lovely older woman.”
“Tydrik, I’m only forty-five. It'd be weird if I was any younger.”
“Delre, don't take offence. You aren't the oldest woman I've been with.”
“Oh?”
Hux giggled, “You like older women too?”
“Not at the moment, no.” Delre said truthfully.
“’At the moment’?” Hux looked down at her, “What does that even mean?”
The dwarf shrugged, “I like the woman I am currently with.” It was true enough.
Hux laughed, and leaned down and gave Del a kiss on the cheek. She flushed almost instantly, provoking the Hob to say, “Careful now, people will think we're both Hovenni at this rate.”
“So, just a date then?”
“Did you want more out of this?” Hux’s hand rested on top of Dels, her thinner fingers sliding in between the dwarf’s. “You keep bringing it up, so you are making me wonder, Delre.”
“No, just checking. Making sure we are in the same cart.” She gave the hand a squeeze. “At least, for now.”
“I can think of a few things we could do in a cart, but I'm very much enjoying myself.”
“Good.” Del opened the door to the bar for the taller woman, and all the memories came rushing back. Even smells the same.
Thwack!
Gorthal groaned as a well-dressed dwarf punched him square in the face, sending one of the last six teeth the old bartender had clattering along the floor. Blood dripped into Gorthal’s long gray beard.
“Won’t ask again, traitor.” Another one said. “Where did you get the stolen shipment of cigars?”
Vivex gathered up her things before Keshka’s lesson, seeing that the rest of the brood was doing the same, or had already left. It didn’t take her long, she only really had to find her training clubs, and soon she was running over to the hulking form of the Provider.
Tok was back in the clearing, laying out the now tanned Runeslave skin, clawed hands stretching it flat, smoothing it out with a soft sort of rasping sound of his thick scales running against the leather.
Fodder castes moved quickly to pile the smaller skins onto it, under the watchful eyes of the other warriors. When the last one was placed, Tok rolled the larger skin up, protecting the smaller ones by keeping them inside the bundle.
Vivex knew that the whole party wouldn’t be traveling with them. Most of them would be heading ahead to join the mating season, like Zathaan, and had been heading out as individuals for about half a week now.
He’s clearly hoping for more than one partner. It made sense.
Others of the brood were returning to their territories around the edge of the Belly of the World, ready to combat any invaders or report on scaleless movements. Mostly those who were like her. Subadults. Though some did look at the droves leaving for the mating ritual.
Older ones. Her Instinct surmised. Next year.
Several of the females had already headed off in a completely different direction the previous day. Including Gekki, who had shown obvious signs of being pregnant well before the day she left. Belly swelling, eyelids drooping, and she had started to drift off at random points of the day.
Conserve energy.
The frustrating female had also started gorging at all hours, stuffing herself with fatty meals and making Zathaan help her hunt some larger beasts in the process. It was simple enough to understand. She was bulking up to make sure she could produce healthy eggs.
Vivex thought of her own sire, and her own size. Could that have been why? My sire didn’t eat enough?
Her Instinct grumbled. No.
She blinked and thought about that answer. Vuthra wasn’t small… so I suppose that makes sense.
Vivex watched as several more females headed off in the same direction, each with the telltale signs of pregnancy, forming a unit. A couple of the traveling females snapped at eachother, snarling and tossing insults.
Close in caste. Trying for a better position. Her Instinct murmured.
It had also been just like Keshka had said, Gekki had been less frustrating after the mating, though she was still hateful. Saying things like the brood was wasting its resources with her, even while she was lounging out on a basking rock while her mate collected honeycomb, coming back covered in painful welts.
“I have earned this treatment. You have earned nothing, yet.” Gekki had said. The darker part of Vivex would never forget Gekki.
Vivex watched as a Redscale joined the latest pack of pregnant Greenscales, avoiding the tussles by virtue of being of a different species.
Will gather elsewhere. Her Instinct hissed. Separate by caste there. Compete to earn better Providers for their young. It would be in the center of the swamp she knew.
Hopefully I will go there one day. She didn’t let her thoughts go farther than that though, not confident in their veracity.
Vivex was glad to be rid of most of them, there were few that she remembered with kindness. None, if I am being honest. Not that they were mean, but the vast majority had wanted nothing to do with her, and the few that she had interacted with had been either dismissive or abusive. So she had kept to herself.
The only ones staying in their group to head to Szez’tek-Shrahaam would be Shashk, Tok, Keshka, Zegoth, and the Ambassador’s retinue.
And me, I suppose.
Obviously, idiot.
She tilted her head, getting a better look at the runeslave skin, noting how thick the hide was in some places, but thinner in others.
Perhaps because those are places of typical damage? Sort of like how the front of a skull was thickest in most beasts.
Out loud, she hissed, “That will bind many books.” to her Provider.
“It is always needed.” He rumbled, rolling it up, folding in the corners every so often as he did, stretching it tight to make it as small of a package as possible. Repeating that process a couple times as he went. “And perhaps this hide will find some more elevated use.” He tied it tight with thick ropes of twisted vines.
She hissed, wondering what an ‘elevated use’ was.
Focus. Ask. Her Instinct pressed. She had remembered a question while packing, and wanted it answered as soon as she could. But she lingered on just how to phrase the question.
Cicadas hummed. A buck river emperor buzzed by. She heard the wet slap of two tikabo fighting for territory in the distance, rearing up on their stubby hind legs and slamming their slimy bodies against each other to try and knock their opponent down.
Ask!
“What is a ‘Soulbound Warrior’, Provider.” She said finally, choosing to be direct.
“Answer her, My mighty claw.” Szez’tek snarled, shifting in His domain, rumbling like an avalanche, His spear-like claws gouging into the bedrock easily. “She can be your best neonate, boy!”
Like the Theif, He had invested in the Initiate of Shadows.
Tok’s head tilted slightly, his bright blue tongue sliding out. Head tilting as well before his half lidded sanguine eyes slid to study his neonate. “My life is bound to the will of Szez’tek Vooznal.”
“What-”
“He guides me. He saved me from being consumed by my own wrath.” Tok growled, eyes narrowing, though he was no longer looking at her.
He lifted his head, throat frill spreading, and let out a great basso call that reverberated in his chest, making it vibrate. Vivex felt the sound tremble inside her own body.
There was a long pause, and then she thought she heard an answering call.
“I am called to my duty above all things.” Tok hissed, shaking his head so his massive vertebrae cracked back into place. Only then did his focus return to rolling up the hide.
He made sure to make the bundle as tight as possible, almost chanting his next words, “Being a Provider. Earning favors and prestige for the Brood. Being called to fight in His name.”
Even her Instinct was paying attention, to the point she almost didn’t notice the territorial rumble of a big bull croc out in the distance. She glanced in that direction, but the apex was quite a ways off from the sound, the sound of the water droplets faint.
Vivex blinked.
Wait, called to do His will? How do you know the will of the Gods? Unless-
Her Instinct hissed, pushing on that inquisitive line of thinking, eyes wide with curiosity. Ask!
“Do the gods… speak to us?” She asked, looking up at her Provider.
A wet slap of amphibians.
The serenade of numerous insects.
Another call, this one in a distinct pattern.
He hissed, robins egg blue tongue moving up and down, “At times, yes.”
She grunted thoughtfully, trying to think of any time it might have happened to her. She was convinced there was one time that it had, and quite recently.
Power. Her Instinct prodded.
She had seen things that were hard to explain from her Provider, things that, to her, seemed to imply otherworldly powers. Any cutting edge!
And she liked the idea of being a warrior with a cause. Vivex could fight, she liked it. It thrilled her, and maybe if she was sworn to such duty, she could have a higher caste than Fodder. Have a legacy. Be a person. To be given a chance to show the world that it had failed when it had tried to hinder her with her size.
“Is… can I do such a thing?” Vivex asked, her hand gripping her knife, “Become Soulbound?”
Tok rumbled deep in his chest, as if contemplating the answer.
“Not yet, my claw. Far too young for such a decision. She must be patient, and ask again later if she still wants such responsibility.”
Red eyes refocused, then he grunted softly. “Your river flows elsewhere at this point. Follow the flow, and mount the bank when you must. You will know if such is your path when the time comes.”
Vivex growled, turning away.
“I… Thank you… Provider.”
She strode away, furious, unable to find a way out. She was incredibly worried because of the day’s events, and had been hoping for an easy way out of whatever might be floating down the current for her.
Now she was dejected. Lost. Bereft of any source of hope.
“Neonate.”
The words transfixed Vivex, prefixes commanding and soothing. The Initiate looked back at him, Tok, her role model, her hero. Her Provider. Examining his vibrant eyes.
He looked back at her, the silence growing.
Emphasis?
Or choosing the right words?
“The struggle only ends when you no longer breathe. I said what I had to when this migration began.” Tok said. Then with a loud hiss he started striding forward, initiating the trip to Szez’tek-Shrahaam.
The others saw him as he strode into the river, letting out another rumbling call, and started to move as well, putting out fires and picking up belongings and supplies. Corralling the Fodder.
Vivex thought back to those words, struggling to remember. Then they came to her.
“You will be seen as a defect, a spare to that bloodline. Not a boon and a specialization new to the brood.”
Hidden lesson?
Barely. It is a pretty obvious one. She hissed, then jogged to reach Keshka, who handed Vivex her bow and arrows. He is telling me not to give up, that I will never be accepted, that I will know nothing but struggle. She snapped her jaws, furious at her despair. Obvious.
Her Instinct hissed. When was he ever obvious before?
She blinked, but shook her head, vertebrae crackling back into place.
I don’t have time for this.
Make time! Her Instinct yanked out another thing that Tok had said.
“I mean to intercede. It will be breaking a precedent, but it is good for the brood. You must not be denied the right to continue your bloodline.” She felt soft pride deep in her being as she remembered the rest. “I will find a way to give you a chance, neonate.”
But how? What can he do against so much tradition and dogma?
Her Instinct remained silent, and she stared for a moment, her tiny flicker of hope twisting into jagged panic in her mind as he veered off away from the group and the group didn’t follow.
Hunting?
I hope so.
Before she could be late she hurried off to find Keshka for the evening lesson.
“Shucks, Kiddo, sorry. It’s just… got to be this way. I’m not gonna let you get tossed to the wolves though, so long as you stay patient.” I wondered if ‘tossed to the crocs’ would have fit better there as I shifted my focus quickly to influence things while I was alone in my cell, far enough away from the Kiddo that I wouldn’t be noticed.
Morte had to rush out, delayed from Her duties just like I had planned by our… escapades. I thanked reality again that Solarus didn’t care what His wife did on Her own time.
I could see the rest of Us were all scurrying about based on the energies flowing about the globe, but I didn’t have time to pick those schemes apart. I had to keep the Kiddo on track, and influence the ones in charge of her fate. It was tough, but fortunately I had some help.
Keshka grunted as she arrived, and Vivex was dismayed to see that Shashk was there as well.
Idiot, she said she would be there.
“Come, moving targets tonight.” Keshka hissed, holding up several thin pieces of slate as they all started to follow Tok.
Her Tutor held out the flat stones she had found, then tossed them one at a time into the air for Vivex to shoot as they traveled. She tossed the first, which curved in an arc as it spun, high above anyone’s head.
She drew fletching to cheek, tracking it. He told me not to give up because I am not learning fast enough! I will be judged as fodder. Her frustration surged, the bow quivering slightly.
Thwmmmm!
The arrow whistled through the air as she missed her first shot.
Faith. Have it.
“Again, Initiate!” Keshka tossed the next. She could feel Shashk’s turquoise eyes on her, watching each shot, tail undulating. Not saying anything for the moment.
Ignore. Shoot.
She growled, then forced herself to calmness. Breathing in, then out.
Thwmmmmm! Crack!
The second shot shattered the slate as it connected. She didn’t find any joy in her pointless success.
Idiot. Strive!
“Good work, Pupil. Again!” And Keshka whirled the next one out in an arc, making it circle around them like a duck coming in to land.
Thwmmmm! Crack!
The practice continued, and the Initiate was glad that Shashk mostly spent the night watching, though she took notes the entire time. By the time they were done it was like Vivex had been measured and catalogued back to front and upside-down.
“Multiple targets tomorrow.” Shashk said with dominant prefixes. Turquoise eyes shifted to regard the Initiate. “Follow, my pupil.” She said in the smoothskin tongue.
Vivex blinked and struggled to orient herself. “Yes, Teacher.”
They moved out and up into a massive banyon tree, moving inside the center and climbing up the middle where the host tree had long rotted away.
Why?
It is odd. She was on edge, not trusting the cruel Redscale to not take advantage of their seclusion to harm her in some way.
In the dark, Shashk’s eyes gleamed with a pale purplish hue, reflecting the light of Zasa’avi’s eyes. The Ambassador stared disconcertingly at Vivex, not blinking.
“Show me your practice with the dehk-zuir.” She hissed, and her prefixes were mildly reassuring.
She used the truetongue?
“Yes, my Teacher.” She said.
And they spent another two hours practicing together.
Shashk wasn’t suddenly kind, subtle, or particularly gentle, but there seemed to be an understanding and acknowledgement of the efforts that Vivex was putting forward.
“I can see this is not your first night doing this, Initiate.” Shashk said, “But it will be your last.”
“What? Why?” She needed that practice! Was this sabotage?
Her Instinct snarled.
“Sleep is important, my Student. Never miss sleep if you can help it. Our lessons will integrate further during the day while we travel.”
“But-”
Shashk snapped her jaws. “I have spoken, Viv-Vivex.”
The Initiate winced, hating that emphasis of her names prefix.
“You will sleep. Now. Follow me.” The Redscale stood, so huge in the canopy, and leapt off the side as nimbly as any of Vivex’s Brothers and Sisters, leaping down from branch to branch before reaching the forest floor below.
Vivex hissed, and followed her teacher, taking the same route. The drops were farther than she typically took. She braced herself for the pain of each impact, expecting it to be a strange new punishment, but she was surprised to find that they were no problem at all for her to traverse.
Shashk watched her progress, and when the Initiate landed with an almost inaudible fwump next to her, Vivex was pleased to hear the other female grunting.
She turned and walked back to her retinue.
“You will rest with us, Initiate.” She said. Not looking at Vivex as she strode through the underbrush.
Don’t! Trap! Her Instinct snarled, dragging her eyes to the Redscale’s tail.
“I am honored teacher, but I prefer to rest with Tok.” She hissed.
“He will return in the morning. He has sought out a mate for this evening.” Shashk said.
Damn. That explained what had been going on before though.
They all slept in a pile, and Vivex found herself back to back with the Ambassador, her face pressed against Keshka’s arm.
I hate this! It was warm, and the others were still, but everyone was so close together. Including Shashk and Zegoth, who had BOTH beaten her on a regular basis.
She shifted, and Keshka’s arm shifted so that she was resting on top of it. Vivex scooted a tiny bit closer and laid on her back. Keshka rolled closer, and Vivex found the other female’s arms pulling her closer to be oddly comforting.
One more layer between me and harm. And she didn’t mind sharing body heat with the whole group.
Just need to stay calm.
Forcing herself to breathe slowly in the center of the pile, she stared up at the stars, counting them. Trying to do something monotonous to get to sleep.
She got to one hundred and four before her heavy eyelids finally closed.