Chapter 3
Ekkire
She was alive. It was a truth I struggled to wrap my head around as I watched her walk off into the forest. She was going the wrong way, even though I’d pointed clearly to where she should go.
How was she alive? She should have been crushed by the rocks and dirt, or shattered by the rapid mudflow I’d followed down this gully.
I’d crossed over to another one several times that now bisected the land to my left as well.
Yet she’d ultimately been in the gully I’d deemed most likely.
Most likely to have died in, yet here she was.
Stubbornly, she walked beneath listing trees and past toppled giants, oblivious to the direction she actually should have gone in.
What was even more concerning, she was bulging oddly at the front in strange, lumpy shapes, and I was pretty sure I scented a sleara.
I’d scented one when she’d paused right at the top of the rope.
I had feared she was about to fall and braced myself to snatch her up with my tail.
She’d proven oddly adept at climbing until then.
Now I realized she might have found a wounded sleara.
One who had been victim to the same mud wash she’d been.
Humans, I thought as I followed her silently through the trees, were so soft-hearted.
It was what drew my brethren to them, that softness, that kindness our own females had forgotten how to feel.
At Haven, there were several pet sleara, as well as two Ayala.
Although I had to admit right away that some of those animals were courtesy of my Water Weaver brother, Zeidon.
He was even more soft-hearted when it came to animals, always taking in strays and caring for them.
Srazz, though—his Ayala friend—was sort of fun to have around.
Both Srazz and Zeidon could take care of themselves, but this human and her injured sleara? Doubtful.
I sped up a little when I discovered she’d reached a clearing sheltered on one side by a large boulder.
It was the perfect place for a Slithrazer to lie in wait, and she was the perfect bite-sized morsel for such a predator.
I did not have time for this, and I’d never been the kind of male who was good at watching younglings.
My job should have been over when I found her, but since she was alive, it now felt like my responsibility to make sure she stayed that way until she was back with the Haven hunters.
“Wait!” I began to call out, but to my surprise she slowed, dropping into a crouch and craning her head around carefully to search for danger.
I discovered she had not been idle while walking, either; she’d gathered rocks.
Now she hurled them with precision into various dense spots of underbrush, throwing them hard, too, so they crashed into the bushes with a lot of noise.
It was a good tactic to startle a predator out of hiding; most—Slithrazer included—preferred to avoid a fight.
Sitting back, my hands tight around the handle of my trident, I observed what she would do next.
Once she’d thrown all her rocks in exactly the spots where I’d have worried a predator was hiding, she rose.
She wasn’t done, though. She’d picked up a good-sized branch and went around poking under rocks and slapping more bushes to really ensure it was safe.
Then she began gathering wood for a fire.
Even more impressive: though her hands were stiff and clumsy, she knew how to make fire without the aid of a fire starter.
It took her a long time, and she was swearing in her strange, alien language as she did it.
She’d gathered all the right supplies: small twigs, bigger branches, the fluffy, combustible interior of an early spring flower.
She’d crafted a fire bow with a bit of woven string from grass she’d harvested, and two twigs.
I told myself that if she could light that fire on her own, my responsibilities ended here.
She knew how to take care of herself far better than I’d expected.
Which meant that perhaps she was not lost despite my directions; she’d just decided to make camp first. Since it was dark, and humans had terrible vision in the dark, that made sense.
Granted, it wasn’t nearly so dark as it should be tonight.
A strange, bright light came from the north, rising like a pillar into the sky.
It made me very uneasy, that light, but it was also very far away, so there was very little I could do about it. It was a matter for the Shamans.
Eventually she crowed in triumph, her nose wrinkling in a way that was unexpectedly cute.
The fire began blazing, and she was very careful to feed the flames until she had a decent campfire going.
Placing it near the rock wall, she’d also cleverly ensured she was out of the wind, and the stone, heated by her flames, would radiate warmth onto her back later in the night.
As she set about making camp with nearly no supplies at all, I had to begrudgingly admit that she’d done it exactly as I would have.
Yet I still found myself unable to slip away in the dark.
Was my task truly over now? I couldn’t decide, and something else niggled at the back of my head.
It would be easier to ignore it after I’d made up my mind multiple times and finally left Haven.
Easier, but it would gnaw at me, I knew that too.
It would always remain an open question, a what if?
She could be my mate… This female, her scent was still covered by the mud from the earthquake.
Though I had caught hints of it that seemed familiar.
She had to have been at Haven before, while I was there.
Had I somehow missed her when I’d checked each female with a slight, unobtrusive touch?
She looked different in the firelight, her features still obscured by the mud she’d been dragged through.
I was pretty sure I’d inventoried every color humans could come in by now, which was far less than the many naga I’d encountered on my travels.
Yet this female, she appeared to have pink hair.
Pink. It hung by her left temple in a big, muddy hank, and it tempted me to reach out and check if it was real.
“Well...areyougoingtocomeoverandsharemyfire? Orareyougoingtosulkinthetreesallnight?” Her words were clearly directed at me, though I could not understand them.
They clung together in lyrical waves of sound, as if she were singing and talking at the same time.
It was impossible to decipher even individual words, yet I knew she was inviting me to join her anyway.
Not just that, she was calmly letting me know she was aware of my presence. I was impressed.
I approached her fire slowly, my mind still stuck on the potential that could be, wondering if I was willing to reach out and check.
No, I decided. I’d rather not know. The call of the wild was too strong for me, not like it was for Zeidon, who loved tinkering and collecting too much to travel extensively.
A human mate would bind me to Haven, to one place, and I could not let that happen.
Circling around, I checked for predators anyway, not because I thought she’d done a bad job, it was simply force of habit.
I settled down across the fire from her on my coils a moment later, my eyes on the mud-crusted lines of her face.
She was soft, round, scaleless. She also appeared to be angry, but I was never sure about human expressions.
“What? Didn’tthinkI’ddoneagoodjob?” she said.
Not so lyrical now; her tone had gotten clipped and short.
Angry, I was certain of it, but since I had done nothing wrong, she must be angry at her muddy state, not at me.
It would be highly uncomfortable to be so muddy, especially when wearing coverings.
To avoid getting that way, I regularly oiled my scales so dirt slid right off.
It was a basic grooming ritual all younglings were taught, and now I wondered if perhaps humans had failed to learn it.
Should I offer her my flask of oil? Not before she’d cleaned up, I decided.
Sliding my backpack from my shoulders, I pulled it in front of me and started going through my supplies.
I’d gathered fibers to create more rope along the way today, certain I’d need it in the mountains and in case there were Sun Fang survivors near their outpost. Besides a lot of rope, I also carried furs for sleeping and plenty of food.
My waterskin was freshly filled, but it would hardly be enough to clean all of her.
There used to be a spring nearby; I wondered if it was still there or if it had been destroyed by the earthquake.
I tossed her the waterskin, letting it sail across the fire in a careless arc.
She caught it, her fingers already moving less stiffly as she undid the clasp and took a drink.
“Thanks,” she said, not as angry as before.
I took that one word to mean she was grateful, thanking me, and I nodded.
Once she’d drunk her fill, I offered her a scrap of fabric woven by the females of my clan.
She took that too, but she was very conservative with the water, dipping only a tiny portion of the cloth in it.
Not to clean, though at first it looked that way.
Lifting the stiff collar of her upper covering, she lowered it inside, toward those temptingly soft mounds most humans had.
A very tiny white snout appeared, lapping rapidly at the wet cloth.
I swore, of course! She was already pandering to the little creature she’d found, the one she’d risked her fragile neck for by hanging from the rope earlier. Humans… they had no sense!
Rising, I began restlessly pacing, uncertain what to do.
Torn again with the desire to leave, and this inexplicable need to stay and make sure she was safe.
She didn’t need me, I told myself. Clearly, she didn’t because she’d made a fire and properly secured her campground.
She didn’t need help, even if she was as irrational as all the others when it came to small, useless animals.
I could send a signal to the naga at the sky wreck, and they’d retrieve her.
She’d be fine… There were still others the earthquake might have injured, or worse, who could be in need of my help right now.
I sat back down on my coils, fascinated when she finally began using a tiny portion of the water to clean her face.
What was revealed were definitely features I had not seen before.
Her skin was a soft cream color, her eyes a warm brown with a velvet sort of texture, similar to some of the richer fabrics my people produced.
Her chin was narrow and pointed, her nose a delicate slope, and her eyebrows tiny dark arches.
Of course, this was when fate decided to show me a human face far more tempting than any of the others I’d seen before.
Just as I’d decided I didn’t want a human mate, or was it that very choice that made her seem more tempting?
She was talking, but the lyrical sounds were just music, and I could not follow anything she said.
It was clear that, as spellbound as she had me, she had the same effect on the sleara she’d rescued.
A very small female juvenile from the looks of it, a rare, shimmering white too.
Not an easy color out here in the wild, one that would probably see her get eaten now that all the snow had melted.
This female finally clambered out of the human’s shirt to look around.
She crouched low in the human’s lap, sniffing at the fire and looking at the human as she crooned things at the creature.
When the human began pulling sticks and bits of wood out of the fur covering she wore, I raised a nubbed brow in surprise.
What had she been carrying those around for?
The sleara looked as confused as I felt, and she tossed the wood carelessly aside.
The little creature pounced, seeming to think it was a game, white wings quivering along its tiny back as it attempted to drag the biggest stick back to the human.
“Youwantoplayfetch?” my human laughed, and she tossed the stick again, much to the sleara’s delight.
I reared a little higher on my tail and watched this unfold, certain both of them had lost their minds.
Perhaps it was hunger; they were both so starved they’d gone crazy.
I pulled one of my favorite types of ration out of my pack and offered it across the fire to the human.
The leaf-folded package was heavy from the fat-rich cake filled with grains, dried fruits, nuts, and spices.
I liked it because it was sweet and it packed a lot of energy, but most hunters preferred a more meat-heavy variety.
I watched tensely as she took it, clearly recognizing what I had offered her.
Her nibble was tentative, then clearly delighted; even I could recognize that.
“Thanks, thisisgreat,” she said around a mouthful.
That word again; it had to mean thank you.
Then she broke off a piece and offered it to the sleara.
The creature sniffed it, nibbled, and then pulled up her nose and pounced on the stick again instead.
Oh great, it only ate fresh meat, did it?
Some sleara were pickier than others… One with scales like fresh snow certainly looked like she came with demands.
I heaved myself upright, then very demonstratively placed my pack by the fire.
I gave her a warning look, then turned to the sleara, who’d shaken all her previous fears and was worrying the stick with her tiny teeth as if she were a ferocious slithrazer, or perhaps even a rakworm.
“Stay out of my pack. I will fetch you proper food.”
Then I slipped into the trees with several tasks in mind: check the water source and get more water for the human, hunt fresh game to feed the sleara, and send a message to the hunters at the sky wreck to tell them the human was alive.
After that, I assured myself, my responsibilities ended, and I was free to head toward the destroyed outpost to rescue possible Sun Fang survivors.
Plans, they never worked out the way you wanted, did they?