Chapter 3 - Bea
I don’t recognize either of the other two Trixikka here with Zyntarr. They must be Zarriko’s.
The first is sprawled out on the forest floor, unmoving.
One of his wings is spread out at an awkward angle, resting against the gnarled root of a giant tree.
His eyes are closed, but his chest rises and falls slowly so at least I know he’s still alive.
The other is also on the ground, but with Zyntarr’s huge frame on top of his chest, pinning him down, and restraining his arms. There are feathers everywhere.
Some of them still float and flutter down around the scene before me like sparkly, black confetti.
“Zyn-” I start, stepping forward, questioning my friend.
Zyntarr throws a feral glance over his shoulder at me that sends a crash of fear into my gut.
I almost turn around to run out of there.
I’ve never been on the receiving end of Zyntarr’s ferocity before, and whether it was intentional or not, it kind of stings.
It also taps into something that must be a primal response, because there are suddenly whispers in my mind about just how prey-like I feel, and how massively powerful and predatory he could be.
He… I think he’s taken down these two Trixikka by himself. Without much effort by the looks of things.
But, why would he do that? There’s meant to be peace between the tribes now.
The determined violence drains from his expression, and it’s like a heavy cloud lifts from his sky-blue eye as he softens.
“Bea,” he says, his voice gentle as he instantly lets go of the other guy beneath him.
The Trixikka in question curls up on the ground and starts coughing and spluttering, his hands now free to come up and clutch at his own neck as Zyntarr ignores him, standing to face me.
“Bea, you should not be here. You should be with the others at the gathering where it is safe.”
Light filtering through the branches of the trees glints off something in Zyntarr’s hand at his side - a hand that twitches once, then twice. His strong fingers are curled around a glowing dagger.
My gaze flicks between my friend, his weapon, and the other Trixikka trying to catch his breath on the ground. I should probably do as he says and leave. That would probably be the ‘right’ thing to do. I even take a blind half-step backward.
But it’s Zyntarr. I’m not afraid of him - I know he would never hurt me - so I hear myself say; “what’s going on here?”
Zyntarr’s one eye watches me, clusters of his skin-stars buzzing brilliantly at his temples while the others fly all around his sculpted body.
It’s like they’re trying to draw my attention to all the planes and ridges of his hard muscles, highlighting them in neon lights to make it so I couldn’t possibly look at anything else.
His chest expands once as he takes in a big breath, his tongue rolling out to wet his bottom lip.
But before he gets to answer my question, the other Trixikka - the one I’d thought had been previously unconscious - splutters and gasps to life.
“We apologize,” he wheezes, trying to sit up, but only making himself cough more.
“We did not mean to disrespect you, female.” He’s clutching his head and his stomach, as he finally looks up at me.
His skin-stars are going haywire around his split lip and swollen eye but I can’t see any evidence that Zyn used that knife on him.
“We did not know anyone could hear our careless words, we-… we do not think you are boring. Not truly.”
What is he talking about?
“We did not know you had a mate,” the other guy croaks, massaging his throat. “Please, we did not know.”
I shake my head, not following their meaning. But they’re definitely talking to me, so… “I’m not-… I don’t-”
My gaze finds Zyntarr again, and I furrow my brow, silently asking him to clue me on the situation. His jaw hardens, and his tail flicks in agitation behind him, but his voice is soft when he tells me, “Bea, go back to the gathering. I will feed you your favorite foods once I am done here.”
What is going on here? Why is he so angry with them?
Something about what one of the Trixikkas had said repeats in my brain as I’m slotting different puzzle pieces together, trying to find one that fits. We do not think you are boring. Not truly.
I narrow my eyes at Zyntarr. “Did… did you attack these guys just because they called me boring?”
Zyntarr narrows his one eye right back at me. “Females are not to be disrespected,” he says, inclining his head. “Especially not you.”
I don’t know why, but I can feel myself flush at that. Why ‘especially not me’?
There’s a follow up question whispering in my mind; what’s so special about me? But I shove that away pretty quickly before it starts to take root. The answer is nothing. I’m not special. The last time I started to think I was special to someone, is when everything went wrong.
Zyntarr’s still staring at me. And, while he may only have one uncovered eye, his gaze is so damn intense, I can feel goose-pimples erupt on my arms despite the humidity here in the jungle.
I hug myself, and let out a puff of breath. “You can’t go around being violent just because someone said I’m boring, Zyntarr. That’s…”
I’m glancing around, looking for the words, and it’s like as soon as I take my eyes off of him, he strides quickly toward me, moving so swift and quiet that I feel as though I blinked and he teleported to be standing right in front of me.
“That,” he says, taking over my words with his deep, raspy voice as his huge frame towers over mine, “is a disrespect that will not be tolerated.”
I-… I can’t look up at him when he’s this close. My knees turn to jello, and my stomach does somersaults. Plus, he’s super-super tall, so I have to crane my neck just to keep staring into that one beautiful uncovered eye of his.
I glance away to give myself some reprieve. But Zyntarr won’t allow that.
A single, gentle finger hooks beneath my chin, tilting my face up to his again. “Do you understand, little Bea?”
I-… uh…
What were we talking about again?
I blink up at him like an idiot. His face is as littered with scars as the rest of him, one of the biggest being a series of long, scratch marks that start on his forehead, slice through his brow, and end almost at his jaw.
Those scars are the ones that had cost him his eye - the one he now keeps covered with a soft black leather patch.
All the Trixikka have scars, but Zyntarr’s are the most noticeable, and most severe.
He hasn’t told me how he’d gotten them all, and I don’t like to ask.
It doesn’t make him any less beautiful to look at, though. Quite the opposite, in my opinion. And, not in a grotesque way of romanticizing something that happened to him that may well be traumatizing. But… he’s lived. He’s certainly not shied away from life, no matter the scars it’s left him with.
“Bea?” Zyntarr’s voice is soft. The pad of his thumb is warm where he gently strokes at my jaw.
“Hm?” Wake up, Bea! For God’s sake! “Oh, yeah, um… I understand, but-” it takes a moment for my scrambled-eggs-for-brains to catch back up to the situation.
“I don’t think this is going to go down well with Rynn and Zarriko,” I say, gesturing to the two battered and bruised Trixikka still clutching themselves in pain.
Zyntarr looks around as if only just now assessing the situation.
He grunts - he grunts like he hadn’t really considered the possible outcomes of him beating the ever-living shit out of two of Zarriko’s males. How can he make such a rash decision like that?
“We will not tell our High Spear of this,” one of the males wheezes after Zyntarr had stared at them both long enough.
Zyntarr grunts again and looks back to me like that is that.
“Zyntarr! How can you think this will all be okay?”
The huge guy shrugs, one side of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. “No green-male wants to admit that they have been bested by an old Protector like me, especially when it was two against one, and one eye against four. Do not worry on this, little Bea.”
I swallow, hoping he is right. I don’t want to even imagine the possibility that peace between the tribes is disrupted all because someone called me boring.
Sensing my reservations, Zyntarr smiles and drops his hand from my jaw. “Come,” he says, “I will feed you now.”
He turns me, and walks by my side, but throws some last instructions to Zarriko’s guys over his shoulder. “You two were very brave in fighting off that scaled firemouth beast. Go back to your village and let your healers tend to your wounds.”