Chapter Three
“You’ve really never been to Myrneth, Atra?”
Mirei looked up from the collection of baskets, squinting in confusion at Saya. “Huh?”
“Come oooonnn.” Saya crouched in front of her in the sand, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Myrneth. West of here, east of Tharneth? Big, big province in the center of the continent? Can’t throw a rock without hitting a castle?”
Mirei picked up a likely-looking basket and turned it over, checking for any cracks in the reeds. “I told you. I’ve only ever been to the outpost up the road.”
Saya rocked back on her heels. “You were being serious?”
“Why would I not be serious?”
“But… how? Why?”
Mirei raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know. There’s always something to help out with here. Mending nets, fishing, looking after the little ones, learning Mother’s healing arts… and anyway, there was the Star-lady.”
Saya sat down in the sand. “Star-lady?”
Mirei tested the basket handle. Sturdy but still with some give—perfect. She blinked at Saya’s words, then flinched. She hadn’t meant to say that last part. “Never mind.”
Saya crossed her legs and gripped her ankles as she leaned forward. “You can’t just say something like ‘Star-lady’ and expect me to drop it.”
“What if I ask nicely?”
Saya unfolded her legs and stood up. “That’s not fair, Atra—I can’t say ‘no’ to the healer-mage who saved Soru.”
Mirei gave Saya her full attention. “I am not a healer-mage.”
“That’s not what I saw yesterday.”
Several Nahrzai approached at that moment, Rima in the lead. She grinned with all her teeth. “This is what you get for showing off, Atra Mirei.”
Mirei threw a broken basket handle at her. It bounced off Rima’s chest.
“You don't use Atra for your younger sister,” Saya said. “If you wanna address her properly—”
“Didn’t ask.” Rima tilted her head at the wide, deep basket in Mirei’s hands. “What are you doing?”
“We still need foamflower,” Mirei said. “Everything got destroyed yesterday. I’m going back for more.” She glanced at the other Nahrzai—Nahmei, Velec, Eisun. “What are you all doing?”
“Gonna go get the thavok bones. A beast that size will give us crafting materials for months.” Rima plucked the basket out of Mirei’s hands and held it aloft, out of her reach. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Rima!” Mirei made a futile grab for it. “Mother still needs it. Even more so now, with Soru here.”
Rima balanced the basket between her eyes. “I’ll get it. I’ll bring you the whole field, but you’re staying right here.”
Heat rushed into Mirei’s cheeks. “Don’t tell me what to do!”
“Rima,” Nahmei said, her voice soft. “Mirei likes the meadow.”
“The tides know what she’ll bring back this time. It must be an unlucky moon for her.”
“I’m not going to—”
Rima was already turning to go. “Come on, squirrel,” she said, and gripped the back of Saya’s jacket.
Saya gave a squeak as she stumbled to keep her footing. “Wait, what?”
“You want that meat-slab’s sword, don’t you? Let’s go.”
Saya trotted to keep up with Rima. “Don’t call Soru a meat-slab!”
Nahmei gave Mirei a regretful look as Velec and Eisun turned to follow Rima. “Do you want me to talk to her, Mirei?”
Mirei took a few long strides past Nahmei and called after the others. “You can’t just go off and leave me!” She increased her pace.
Rima didn’t look back. “You know I can move faster than you. And you’re still wobbly from yesterday.”
“I am not, I—”
Mirei wobbled. She planted her feet in the sand and took a deep breath. “That’s your fault! I wasn’t ready for wrestling!”
Rima turned her head enough to look at Mirei from one eye. “I’m not the one who went chasing Liri all over the beach over a scrap of cloth. You coming, Nahmei?”
Nahmei heaved a sigh and started walking. She paused next to Mirei and brushed her claws over the girl’s braid. “Your scent is a bit murky still. I think Rima’s right.” She lowered her head. “Sorry.”
Mirei watched as Nahmei joined the others; she continued watching until they all turned up the forest path and disappeared. The broken basket handle lay nearby. She kicked it.
The handle bounced once and came to rest at a pair of large bare Velka feet.
“Sister trouble?” Kagren asked.
Mirei stiffened. “Kagr—” She paused. “Er… Atren Kagren?”
Kagren was wearing an undyed section of reed-fiber linen, sleeveless and secured around his waist with a braided rope. His black hair was loose and tumbled down his back in a bushy, unruly mane. Dark tattoos covered his thick arms. Mirei noted a lot of black squares and triangles, interlocking on either side of a single wavy blue line.
Red.
Mirei blinked. Her head swam for a moment.
What?
The tattoos weren’t red. And it wasn't a smell-color, and there was no anger. She didn't have that ability, anyway. Why had red entered her mind?
She realized she was staring. She looked away.
Kagren chuckled and prodded the basket handle with his toe. “Saya been teaching you Tharnethi etiquette?”
Her head still felt swimmy. She gave it a shake to clear it. Maybe Rima had been right. “Yes, Atren—”
“Eh!” Kagren held up a forefinger. “That’s way too many rens for a nice morning like this. Just plain old ‘Kagren,’ yeah?”
Mirei blinked. “Uh. Okay.”
Kagren worked his toes under the broken reed handle. With a jerk of his leg, he flipped it to land with the other baskets. “So! Wanna take a walk? We’ll go slow.”
“I’m not that wobbly.”
Kagren gave a lopsided grin. “I am.” He reached up and back, behind his shoulders. “Either way, can you at least take this?” He pulled Liri out from under the mass of his hair.
Mirei gasped and stepped forward, her arms out. “Liri! What are you doing?”
“He’s warm!” Liri said, grinning. “Better than my best sunning rock!”
“I woke up covered in six more just like her,” Kagren said.
“You’re all blue,” Liri said. “Or you were. You’re more orange with me around.” She grinned with all her little teeth at Mirei. “He likes children!”
“I’m so sorry,” Mirei said as she took the little Nahrzai. Liri’s tail curled over Mirei’s arm.
“For what? She’s right. And I’ve traveled with enough Nahrzai to know they always sleep in a big pile.” Kagren rolled his shoulders. “Made me feel welcome.” He started to walk past Mirei. “Well, if you don’t wanna walk…”
“I’ll walk.” It was out of her before she realized it. Mirei frowned and glanced at Liri, who gave her another big smile and scrambled up to perch on Mirei’s shoulders, her arms resting atop her head, claws gripping sections of her hair.
“Don’t smell so gloomy, Sister,” Liri said. “He likes you and wants to know more about you.”
Kagren gave a wry chuckle as Mirei looked at him. “No secrets with Nahrzai, right?” He waited until Mirei caught up with him. His steps were unhurried as he resumed walking.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Soru? Better. Responding well to whatever Taru's giving him.”
“Did he wake up?”
“Briefly.” Kagren stroked his beard. “Long enough to drink something. I’m not sure he knew where he was, though. He conked right out again.”
“Oh.” Mirei kept her left hand on Liri’s knee. She looked down at her right hand and flexed her fingers. “Should I…?”
“Nah.” Kagren gave her shoulder a light pat. When Mirei didn’t flinch, he rested his palm there. “You did enough, Rei.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulder before they slipped away. Kagren brought his hand to his mouth and took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“For what?”
“Shouldn’t have called you that.”
“Why not?”
Kagren didn’t answer. He took a long, slow breath, then another.
Liri let out a tiny growl and slipped from Mirei’s shoulders, landing on the sand with a thump. “Blue again,” she said, and braced her little claws against Kagren’s leg. “So much blue—why?”
Kagren’s hand dropped from his face. He bent to rest it on Liri’s head. “Kid… don’t worry about it.”
Liri arched her neck back and nipped at his fingers. “Tell me!”
“Liri!” Mirei knelt and pulled the little Nahrzai back. “Don’t bite him.”
Liri snorted and rubbed at her nostrils. “Can’t be here.” Her voice was muffled through her hands. “He’s worse around you, Sister. And you’re smelling weird, too. I don’t even know what that color is. Pfeh!” She dropped to all fours and kicked up sand as she scampered away toward the Longhouse. “I still love you!” she yelled over her shoulder.
Mirei stared as Liri disappeared among the huts.
“This is her first time around Velka, isn’t it?” Kagren asked. “Besides you, I mean.”
Mirei nodded, and he gave a nod in turn.
“It takes a while for Nahrzai to get used to being around us.” He turned and started walking again. “Well… me, anyway. Everyone here seems fine with you. Saya, too.”
Mirei took a few quick steps to catch up with him. “Issari and Nasshu talk about that a lot,” she said. “Every time they come back from the trading outpost. How some Velka are just—hard to be around.” A faint smile touched her lips. “Nasshu always licks me and says she’s glad I don’t make her head hurt.”
Kagren chuckled. “I’ve never been around Nahrzai hatchlings. I see the adults learn to filter a few things eventually.”
When Mirei said nothing, he added, “You sure you don’t mind? Rei, I mean. I dunno… seemed to suit you.”
Mirei glanced up at him, then back at Liri. “I don’t mind. Mother…”
Kagren waited. “What?” he asked when she didn’t continue.
Mirei shrugged. They stood in the shade of a large rock. She rubbed her arms and stepped into the sun. “Mother named me after the tide under a full moon in late summer.” Her hand slipped under her braid to rest on the back of her neck. “Nahrzai must have a hundred different words for the tides. A different one for the time of day, the moon, the season, things like that.” Her mouth twitched up. “Silly, huh?”
Kagren joined her in the sun. “In Tharneth, we probably have a hundred different words for thorns.” He counted on his fingers. “Varl. Chakta. Soru.”
“Soru?”
Kagren’s grin was almost sheepish. “Yeah. That’s the kind of thorn that burrows deep if it gets in your skin. The kind you have to take a knife and dig out.”
“Someone named him that?”
“I did.”
Mirei stiffened. “I’m sorry.”
Kagren chuckled again and continued walking. “Don’t be. It started out as one of my bad jokes that just sort of stuck.”
Mirei followed. “What do you mean?”
“I found him. Did Taru tell you?”
“Mother doesn’t repeat other people’s stories.”
“Hm.” Kagren clasped his hands behind his back. “Found him after a Kreth attack. You know what Kreth are?”
Mirei tilted her head in thought. “I’ve heard about them, I think. Sort of reptiles? But not like Nahrzai.”
Kagren didn’t say anything at first. Mirei looked and found him staring at her, brows furrowed.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
He blinked and gave his head a rapid shake. “No. No… sorry. Just an old man’s mind wandering.” He patted his chest, then looked down at the linen garment, frowning. “Ah. Forgot I put this on. Never have my duskleaf pouch when I really want it. Bet I lost it yesterday.”
“I have some. You’re welcome to it.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You smoke?”
Mirei laughed. “No. But Mother uses it in ceremonies. And Issari and Nasshu take it to trade.” She nodded up the coast.
“No traders come here?”
“Not really. Issari and Nasshu are good at dealing with Velka and inland Nahrzai. Even Vaskari, sometimes. Maybe once every few months, they go up to the outpost.”
“You don’t get out much, huh?”
“It’s better if I don’t. It’s dangerous.”
“Is that you talking, or Rima?”
A line appeared between Mirei’s eyebrows. Kagren patted her shoulder again. “Never mind, never mind. Liri said it—I am curious. But it’s not my place.”
He cleared his throat. “But as to the Kreth—you’re right. Not a thing like Nahrzai. Way smaller, but there are a lot of them. If they are intelligent, no one's survived trying to communicate with the little bastards.” He took a slow breath and shook his head. “They live in the desert, raid whatever they can. Most of our patrols are for dealing with them. And for extra fun, because the gods couldn't leave it at that—they’re venomous.”
“Venomous?”
“Yep. Not enough to kill a Velka, but a bite can still mess you up. Makes you weaker, slows your reflexes. I’ve got a lot of people back home who can’t fight the way they used to.”
“You can live like that?”
Kagren gestured toward the water. “You got dangerous stuff out there?”
Mirei looked at the waves. “Well, yes. Plenty of things that sting and bite. But we’re careful.”
“Same with us. And really, if you saw Tharneth? And the city in the Canyon, Tharnethan… you might get it. It’s some place, if I say so myself.”
“Rockfish don't raid, though.”
“Heh. True. Well, what can I tell you... it's home to a lot of people.”
They walked for a while in silence until the sand gave way to towering rocks. A number of Nahrzai were stretched out there, sunning. One of them opened her eyes and blinked down at them.
Mirei waved. “Just walking, Auntie Lekka.”
She turned and headed back the way they had come. Kagren watched her for a moment before he followed.
“Rei.”
She paused and looked at him.
Kagren treaded carefully, as if approaching a fawn. “What you did for Soru… out there in the field…”
That little line reappeared between her brows, and he stopped, holding his hands up. “You don't have to answer. It's just—I can't help wondering.”
“I don't mind talking about it,” Mirei said. “I just don’t know how to explain. It's something I do. That's all.”
“No prayers or sigils or anything?”
She shook her head. “It's like… I tell the pieces to go back together. To…” She pursed her lips, searching for the word. “To… remember, I suppose. Remember how they were before. And they do.”
“Remember,” Kagren repeated. He said nothing at first, considering. The water sighed and churned. Some distance out, a pelican dived, then swooped up, a fish wriggling in its bill. “And it knocks you flat, huh? Saw that myself.”
“It depends on how bad the injury is. A wound like he had—I might have passed out if Rima hadn't stopped me.”
“I'm glad she did.”
Mirei gave him a crooked little smile. “Me too. She might not have brought Soru back here, if I hadn't been awake.”
Kagren gazed at her for a moment before he returned the smile and gave her shoulder another pat. They were quiet then, looking out at the ocean. A dark shape surfaced; a stream of vapor puffed before it submerged again.
Mirei’s face lit up. “Ullakai!” she cried. She gave a little bounce and pointed. “Did you see it?”
Kagren’s eyes softened as he looked at her, then back at the water. “I saw it.”
Mirei stepped forward onto some damp rocks, balancing with ease. The creature surfaced again, and she laughed and waved her arms, as though it could see her. “I never can swim out far enough to really say hello to the ullakai,” she said. “The turunai, though—they come close, and there are so many of them, and I love their friendly faces. And they jump right out of the water! I always ask them to say hello to the ullakai for me. They say turunai are messengers, you know. Ask a question, and maybe turunai will answer. And then there are the therali—so slow and gentle—but it's too warm to see them much now. When it gets cooler, they swim up the Ruvan and into the smaller offshoots. Their whiskers tickle my palms when I feed them greens from my garden, and—”
She clapped her hands over her mouth. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled.
Kagren knitted his brows. “For what?”
“Are you still all muddy-blue? Was it something I did? I can’t tell.” Her hands lowered from her face, and she looked away. “I can never tell.”
Kagren frowned. “You’re not a Nahrzai, Rei.”
She flinched, and Kagren swore under his breath. He stepped close and rested his hand on her head. “I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”
“It’s true, though. I can’t smell danger, or joy, or how someone really feels.”
Kagren’s hand lowered from her head to her shoulder again. “Neither can I. But I don’t have to, to see you’re loved here.”
She gave a small smile. Something about it made his heart ache. “If I’m smelling all muddy-blue—and I probably am—it isn’t you, Rei. I’ve… got a lot on my mind. And I have for a while.”
Mirei looked at him, her eyebrows raised in expectation.
Kagren sighed and gave her shoulder a pat. “I know… Nahrzai don’t keep secrets. I guess they can’t, if they smell every little feeling. But Velka do. Most of us are just shambling wrecks made of secrets. Don’t worry about me, Rei.”
Her eyebrows knitted. Kagren was about to reach out and smooth a loose strand of her white hair when she closed the gap between them and put her arms around his middle. Kagren tensed. His hands hovered over her shoulders for a moment before they settled on her back.
“Liri said you like me,” she said. She gave him a squeeze. “I like you, too.”
A laugh burst from Kagren before he could stop it. He patted her back. “All right, Rei—”
Her lips brushed his cheek, soft, earnest. Kagren’s arms dropped to his sides.
Mirei released him and took a few steps back onto the sand. “About Soru. You were saying you found him?”
Kagren blinked. “What? Oh. Yeah.” He cleared his throat and gestured toward the village. “Wanna go check on him?”
Her smile was softer now. “Sure.”
“Anyway…” Kagren’s voice lowered as they walked on. “It was a good twenty years ago. Little border village. The beacons went up, but we were too late.” His face darkened. “But that boy was there. Under some rubble. Maybe four years old. He didn’t speak for a year. I had to call him something, and the way he clung… the way those eyes burrowed into me…” He shook his head. “You don’t need to hear this.”
“I did ask.”
He glanced sidelong at her. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Your mother wouldn’t tell me. I didn’t press, but… you’ve been here all your life?”
“This is all I’ve known. Mother said she found me in the woods. I was too young to remember.”
“Just… a baby lying out there in the woods?”
“Not quite a baby. Rima says I could walk a little, but that was all.”
“No clues to where you came from? How you got there?”
“You won't believe me. I don't believe it sometimes, but Mother doesn't lie.”
“Try me. I've seen some crazy stuff, Rei. Just yesterday, in fact… well, you were there.”
She glanced at him, another smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She took a breath, but then released it and said nothing.
“It’s okay,” Kagren said. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”
“You’re not.” Her lips relaxed. “I like talking to you, really. But…”
Kagren recalled Taru’s words. “Too close to your heart. I get it.”
The Healing House came into view. Kagren patted her shoulder once again. “No funny business with the healing hands, promise?”
She smiled. “Promise.”
“I heard weird sounds last night.”
Eisun glanced at Saya. “Like what? The chuh-waru-wo?”
Saya had to trot to keep up with the long strides of the Nahrzai. She hopped over a root in the path. “The what? Oh! That loud bird. Do they ever shut up?”
“In the summer?” Rima said. “No. Kind of like you.”
Saya huffed. Rima didn't look back, but she had a feeling the girl was puffing her cheeks again. Her scent—up until now, all greens and golds with curiosity and cheer—flashed red for a moment, but it was gone as soon as Rima's nose registered it. A muted gold of amusement wafted from the others—tinged with the faint rose of a growing fondness.
“Anyway,” Saya went on, “this wasn’t a bird. I guess it was Scrithe. Squealing, chattery… kind of croaking sometimes. I’d never heard Scrithe before I came here. Ragri told me what it was that first night. But they were really loud this time. Like something riled them up.”
Nahmei nodded. “I heard them, too.”
“They’re annoying, but they don’t come into the village,” Eisun said.
Rima gave a nod. “Even a Riverstyler could bite a Scrithe in half.” She braced herself for the Velka girl’s panic as she added, “They were probably excited by thavok meat.”
“That’s a shame,” Velec added. “I’ve never actually tasted thavok. Thought we might get a chance.”
There it was—the yellow alarm flashing through Saya's scent. “Will there be anything left?”
“Bones,” Rima said. “Which is what we're going for, so…” She shrugged.
The yellow intensified, and Saya hurried ahead of them. “What about Soru's sword?”
“They won't mess with that. Maybe you could worry if it were a dagger.” Rima gave an annoyed growl. “My spear shaft might be there, but the head is long gone. The sword? I saw it for long enough to know a Scrithe couldn't even lift that thing.” Rima snorted as an insect buzzed too close to her nose. “The meat-slab is strong; I'll give him that.”
“Don't call Soru a meat-slab!”
“I still haven't gotten the smell of his blood out of my scales. I'll call him whatever I want.”
Saya puffed her cheeks. Rima saw this time. She almost smiled.
“Why do you keep saying ‘Riverstyler,’ anyway?” Saya asked.
“Huh?”
“You know. Every time you talk about Ragri. The Nahrzai hunting with us.”
“She wasn’t doing any hunting that I could see.” Rima spat. “Nahrzai. More like Velka with scales.”
“Hey!”
“You asked.”
Nahmei chuckled. “They’re Nahrzai who live inland.”
“Far inland.” Rima bristled at the mere thought. “I hear there are some of them who’ve never even felt the saltwater in their spines. All they know are rivers—can you imagine?”
“I only know rivers,” Saya said. “Well, one river. The Ruvan.”
“The…” Rima stopped walking and blinked down at her. “How do you know the Ruvan?”
Saya blinked back up at Rima. “What do you mean? The Ruvan flows right through Tharnethan.”
Rima tilted her head. She exchanged a glance with her fellow Nahrzai before turning her attention back to Saya. “Really?”
“Well… yeah. It’s the center of everything we do. Look.” Saya shrugged off her jacket, revealing a sleeveless red shirt underneath. She raised her left arm. A dark blue line was tattooed on her bronze skin, undulating in gentle curves from her shoulder down to her elbow.
Rima squinted. “What is that, a snake?”
“It’s the Ruvan.”
“It kind of does like a snake,” Velec said.
Saya rolled her eyes and slipped her jacket back on. “It’ll look more like a river when I get more of it done. I’ve only been a scout for a year. The longer you serve Tharnethan, the more the artists add. Lord Kagren is covered with tattoos!”
Rima started walking again. “The Ruvan really goes that far?” Her voice was quieter. “I thought that was just story-telling.”
Saya trotted next to her once more. “Oh, the Ruvan goes all across the land! It starts small—way, way up in the mountains. It’s still not very big when it goes through Tharneth. By the time it gets to Virelda…” She let out a low whistle. “I couldn’t believe it was the same river. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
Rima had to grin in spite of herself. “Enter the mouth of the Ruvan—you may return, but you won’t.”
Saya raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“Nothing. Old saying.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t, either.”
The trees thinned, and the meadow lay beyond.
Nahmei hissed; alarm flooded her scent now. Eisun’s spines flattened against his neck, and Velec crouched low amid the ferns.
Rima knew the cause at once. She snorted again, though this time from the odors drifting to her on the breeze. Blood, iron, offal, excrement—an indistinct layer of reds and sickly browns overlaid the otherwise peaceful landscape of green grass and white foamflower. Here and there, yellow panic and deep scarlet pain lingered. There was still a whiff of the man's—Kagren's—grief. He was carrying a lot of it. More than even a near-loss like yesterday should have caused. Rima pushed it aside. She didn't want to know.
Saya started forward, but Rima grasped the back of her jacket. “Wait.”
Saya glared and tried to unhook the fabric from Rima's claws. “Will you stop that? You're going to tear it.”
Rima growled. “Hush.” She lifted her head, nostrils quivering.
The smell shouldn't have been subtle, but underneath everything else, it was easy to miss: deep soil and stagnant water, algae and rot. Furtive dull green. Sneaking. Cowardly.
“Scrithe are still around,” she said. “They probably won't bother you. Even you’re bigger than they are. But a lot of them could be trouble.”
Saya pursed her lips and strung her bow. Rima set the basket down next to Saya and got down on all fours, her spines bristling. “Stay with her,” she said to the others. “I'll go first.”
“Rima,” Nahmei began. Dull blue worry crept into her scent.
Rima grinned. “It’ll be fine. Watch this.”
Her claws kicked up clods of mud as she broke into a four-legged gait—half-gallop, half slither, her tail whipping through the grass as she left the trees and charged into the meadow.
The odor of Scrithe intensified before she saw them—crouched backs, limbs sinewy and too long, webbed toes and fingers, slimy gray-green skin, bulging eyes. There were four or five lingering on a flat rock amid the grass, but they bolted in all directions with a chorus of raspy wails as Rima charged.
Rima reared up over the grass, teeth bared as she looked around. Her own scent had gone black with a predator's reek, and for a moment, Rima regretted never coming inland more often than she did. To hunt, to chase, to *kill—*the thrill surged through her, and her eyes locked on the remains of the thavok not far away. It was little more than bones now, bones and a few scraps of flesh already rotting in the humidity. What was left crawled with Scrithe. Rima bared her teeth and launched forward, heedless of nothing but her claws scoring into the soft dirt, the grass whipping against her muzzle as she moved.
In seconds, she reached the carcass. As one, the Scrithe froze for an instant; then, they scattered, hissing, screeching, croaking. Rima laughed as she chased them first one way, then another. One was almost too slow; she nearly snapped it up in her jaws.
Soon—too soon—the Scrithe were all gone. Rima sat up on her haunches and glanced around, chest heaving as she sniffed the air. Her hunting frenzy still dominated in her nose, but the stagnant-rot smell of Scrithe was noticeably weaker. She tilted her head. There was a faint rustle of the last of them scuttling off, but before long, all was quiet again.
Rima turned at someone else's panting, and Saya hurried up, dragging the basket with one hand as she still clutched her bow in the other.
“They're horrible!” the girl said as she let the basket drop. “Like… like someone told a frog it could be a goblin if it tried hard enough.”
Rima smirked. “Not a bad description.”
“I mean…” Saya unstrung her bow and tucked it away with her quiver. “I'd take them over Kreth any day, but they're still gross.”
Rima gave an amused grunt and dropped to the mud. She began to roll.
Saya had taken a breath to say more, but she paused, her mouth still open as she watched. “And that’s gross, too,” she said at last. “What are you doing?”
“Rolling in the mud,” Rima said as she worked her neck back and forth through the squelching earth, making sure her dewlap was coated.
Saya huffed. “I can see that. I mean why?”
Nahmei appeared. She shook her head. “Taru will banish her to the tessak for a week if she goes home smelling like that.” She blew a short puff of air through her nostrils as she looked at Rima. “That wounded Velka was the only reason she tolerated it yesterday.”
“The what?” Saya threw her arms skyward. “I’m gonna go look for Soru’s sword.” She headed off into the tall grass.
When Rima was satisfied, she stood, shook off the excess mud, and headed off toward some nearby reeds and a little stream beyond. Saya returned before long to find her on her belly, letting the water run over her, carrying the mud away in dark brown clouds.
“Are you kidding?” Saya asked. In both hands, she gripped the hilt of a sword nearly as long as she was tall.
“What?” Rima blew bubbles in the cool stream.
“First you wallow around in the mud, now you’re washing it off?”
Rima raised up and shook her spines. Saya yelped as the droplets sprinkled her. “Mud’s the best way to get the smell off,” Rima said. “Mud first, then a bath.” She glanced at the sword. “That was quick.”
“It’s hard to miss.” Saya wiped water off her face. “So what were you smelling like that you had to take a mud bath?”
Rima left the water and scanned the grass until she spotted Mirei’s basket. “Killing.”
Saya raised her eyebrows.
“Or hunting, if you prefer. Which is fine when it’s time to eat, but it’s understood you don’t come back to the village smelling like a hungry swamp wolf. It sets everyone on edge.”
“Oh.”
“Relax.” Rima grinned again. “I ate a whole deer a couple days ago; I won’t be hungry for a while yet.”
“Wait, what?”
Rima picked up the basket and shoved it at Saya. “Just go get some foamflowers.”
“What do foamflowers look like?”
Rima gestured to the expanse of clustered white flowers all around. “Did you miss them?”
Saya narrowed her eyes. “You mean the yarrow?”
“Whatever you call it.”
Rima looked to where Eisun, Velec, and Nahmei had gathered around the thavok’s remains. Velec stretched his neck toward a scrap of meat still dangling from the spine. His tongue flicked out to graze it—and then Velec jerked his head back, scraping his claws over his tongue. He gagged, spat, and grabbed a handful of grass, stuffing it into his mouth. Eisun fell to his side laughing. Nahmei arched her neck, her shoulders shaking as bright golden mirth burst from her.
“Just fill the basket,” Rima said to Saya. “We’ll handle the bones—eventually.”