Allow me to tell you of Emexevel, the place to cast unwanted, unstable waste.

Kindly forgive should I bore you – I suspect that I am one of few who like this place; love it, frankly, in spite of the many who damn it so – so, I must do it justice and sing its praise:

Amid a ring of dozen cliffs, their snow white fingers pointing all over, blaming earth and skies, clouds and stars; amid a ring of ashen slopes, which besiege the eyes with towering heights: there spawn rugs of pale blue grass, which smell sweet: welcoming, beckoning, lest one catches the stealthy stench of angst. I say 'stealthy', even though the source of the stench is clear and constant. There’s no doubt that any one step towards the lake in the middle of the valley, costs one heart-beat. Yet what the heart seems to know as a given, the nose cannot notice. How could such angst-soaked air be odorless? Worse – how could it smell so sweet?

And though one may bury the face sniffing the grass, eventually the stench will catch them. And though one may run away from the lake, even reaching the rocky, uncrossable boundaries of this place; the angst will outrun them. Such is the way of the valley (whether by design, I am not sure): to ensnare any ill-starred souls inside, and frighten the fortunate feet yet to fall from the cliffs.

A guaranteed grasp – that neither the stench nor the scented are to ever depart this place – should soon strike. As angst a given, and stricken heartbeats a given, and taking the freedom to assume that a will to live might as well be there; then no choice remains but for those three things to abide each other. Accommodation begets adaptation, for people and places alike. To that end, the valley has sprung a stream, well hidden within the blue grass and leading to the lake. There, where gentle murmur is heard – the stench is cleaner, the heart pounds steadier, and lives are sufferable. Those tending after their own heart (which tends to its own way anyhow) are often flushed like a leaf to that flowy way. Such were seven newcomers, who found that path rather fast – to be rather soothing.

— “Anyone know where we’re heading?” asked one of them.

The answer was slow to come: “I’ve no aim in mind but, I like it near the river. Unless anyone else wants to search back the fields….”

Right then, a wild shiver washed the seven like a wave; swaying from body to body, limb to limb, until a forceful voice ruled “No! We’d better head nowhere than walk those fucking fields again!”. The shivering halted at once, and the party proceeded to pour along the path.

They were a weird  and wondrous bunch, stuck in a woeful state; all of them wore the same kind of washed-out white tunics, and nothing more. Like most other past outsiders, they were no longer children; and like those who have been thrown here before, none had spent their teens. I say ‘thrown’ because I can’t fathom any of them falling in here willingly. That much was seen in their limpings, which varied as much as their heights and figures were.

For one, the girl who asked “where?” was the tallest; hence she dragged her right leg on the ground, as if drawing half rounds with a compass. Her arms too, stretched thin; as was her unruly black hair. Even her long face longed to be as lengthy as a line. When her left leg could not carry her right stick, she fell – face folded in fingers -  and  wept: “we’re gonna starve”.

For two, the boy who liked the river was soft. His hair a white fluff, and his eyes a pair of plump purple plums. He walked low, bundled within himself, and neared behind the shoelace-girl. With stature so small and harmless, and stride so docile; he almost appeared unharmed. But when he reached to cheer the crying girl, his hands betrayed a horribly crooked form, wringing and twisting in all the wrong ways.

–“Leave it! It’s best we don’t touch each other. leave. it! I said; do not touch!”

For three, the girl who bossed the bunch was queenly. Even while talking, she led the seven, and did not stop stabbing the ground with her steps – half of them, atleast. She was raising her left leg slightly, leaning instead on a wooden rod – found by chance, perhaps? Still her head held high – at first I fancied she donned a coiled crown of sunlights for hair. Her sharp brows, too, were blonde; her eyes golden and unforgiving. Her back was bendless; her features chiselled. And solid. And cold.

–“Keep moving. If she wants to keep up, she’s welcome to pick herself up. Come on.”

I couldn’t know much of the last four, for they had yet spoken aloud. However, I could tell that the party was moving forward, save for the boy who trailed behind, and looked back once or twice. Only after her sobs became nearly unheard, the elongated girl wiped her tears on swollen skin, and stood up, teeth clenched. As I watched her, drawing again half-circles over the pale blue grass, a thought came to mind. I dare share it: such misfortunes make the charm of this place. And as I’m sure that by now I’ve brought to light the grace of the valley, I’ll sing its praise no more.

***

The lame queen herded the party closer to the lake at a relentless pace, ignoring any puffs, pains or stumbles; including her own. Had she remained the ruler of those sickly subjects, she might have accomplished their death. Alas, a guy – who I don’t care for much! – came up the stream to dethrone the queen, escorted by a crew of its own. When the party caught sight of him, he waved them to stop. Six of them were happy to do so.

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–”Ei, wait! Don’t get closer to the lake so carelessly" he warned.

Now even the queen stopped on her one step (though likely out of surprise, not respect).

–”You are?” she demanded.

–”Name’s Gai. I was sent for you” Gai smiled kindly ”–to help of course” he added to assure the golden eyes glaring at him.

The other fellows were much more willing towards the stranger, I think. The white-fluff boy, in particular, hopped to the front and asked with joy “Who are they?”, tilting his chin far back. Finally, the rest of the party unfixed their eyes from Gai and saw the mob of behemoths who were toeing tenderly aside the river. I say ‘mob’, though I should think a mob will be more uniform. How so many breeds – indeed uncountable –  banded together, must be a wonder weirder than the beast themselves. And all of them were uniquely queer, no doubt. Still the mob was tamed; whilst the party began to panic.

–”No it’s okay, they’re not hostile. They’re my amnui” Gai said to no avail, as the humans fell to chaos. One of them fled from nothing, other readied wounded arms for an attack that never came. One growled at the creatures (they weren’t flinched, let alone frightened); and another would have charged at Gai, had it not been for two broken ribs that made them drop to the grass, face down. The aforementioned black-haired girl fell to her one good knee in a cry of very pleasant despair, to my taste. Only the white-haired boy was heading towards the beasts, his eyes keen and sweet. That human troops be in greater disarray than a bundle of crossbreds is a disgrace a genuine queen would not permit; and hence she bellowed at the five to behave themselves – which they did – and with her own rod barred the boy from drawing any closer to the side of Behemoth. In this whole burst, I might add, the beasts breathed at least eight or nine times each, and no less than three of them shifted weight from one paw to another.

–”Young lady, are you this group’s leader?” asked Gai in awe, after the peace resumed “until now all the outcasts I’ve ever seen thrown here never even knew each other.”

–”We don’t actually. We just met today and stuck together. I don’t know yet the names of anyone here!” The white-hair boy barged in, and as if to add sin upon crime, ignored the queen’s rod and approached Gai. “Except your name, obviously. You just said it. I’m Vir by the way! Also what are their names?” Vir clearly did not fear Gai nor his mob.

“Nice to meet you, Vir. You have a cool name! Kinda like my amnui, Virog. Yeah the one right there who looks like shaggy pillow growing a beak. I can introduce you two, if you want” Gai offered a friendly hand to a blushing Vir, who was unable to give a hand back. “ – Right. Sorry. Should've guessed that, shouldn't I? No’mind, no’mind. After I’ll take you-all to Emexevel we could heal these. Yours is just broken, right Vir? Yeah I’ll for sure make them bones new, in time” Gai withdrew his hand, then slammed it on his forehead “ah, I forgot to tell you, I’m meant to guide you-all to the lake – ah, well, to the middle of it, really – so you won’t die here. Not that I’m was ever gonna let you die, buddy, that’s why brought my amnui with me – oh, sorry I didn’t yet told their names that you asked for; well that’s Qshor, the one over there is called Dzuts behind her is Rivog – I called him that because when he was cub he looked a bit like Virog’s beak, so I thought they were twins, but then I found out that was actually his ass! Anyway this one is called…" Thus went the list of silly names for silly creatures by silly Gai, whom I find to be no less childish than the fascinated Vir. Both seemed eager to talk on and forget all else, but a fuming queen was unwilling to forgive them.

–”YOU STILL OWE US AN ANSWER, gai. WHO ARE YOU?”

I could tell you plenty of Gai, if only because the booger seldom stopped talking since his arrival to this valley. Sturdy build and youthful face; his tall body tanned, his green eyes candid; and his utterly grayless hair painted in many hues like a healthy forest. He is powerful – alas kind; and infuriatingly lively. 

Aside from that, Gai held some small role, as he was “The Hyme-master in Emexevel. I do stuff like healings and such, and take care of these guys!” he claimed, while cuddling one unsightly furry horror. ‘Abomination’, as righteous haters might say.

The queen, openly displeased, asked: “What the fuck is Emexevel?!”

–”Where.” Gai dared to correct “I Told you, it’s where I do–”

–”I don’t care about your job. Where is this place? Does it have food? Shelter?!”

–”He already told us” Vir again cut her off in an uncourtly manner “It’s in the middle of the lake, right? It’s the place where… umm…”

–”Where we settle, the outcasts that survived. Not a lot of us, so there is plenty of shelter, food too!” Gai carried on, nodding wholeheartedly “trouble is, getting close to the lake can make you really sick, especially when you’re not used to it. Like, dead sick. Emexevel isn’t like that, though; it’s like, a  pimple that then became a hill, but then grew from under the water, so it’s basically a small island now, but totally guarded from the air around, get what I'm saying? That being said, you gotta walk there real careful, crossing only specific currents, or you’ll die. I know them currents for sure though, so I came to guide you-all! Lucky I caught you-all midway, huh?”

–“I’ll go with you!” Vir jumped.

The others were more hesitant, seeing their queen standing stubborn. She asked:

–”Why should we trust you, rather than keep going on our own?”

That baffled Gai. “I mean, you-all may do that – I won’t be forcing you or anything; but… why would you? It’s risky to just wander about here; like, seriously deadly. You-all probably noticed by now that when you get closer to the lake, you take a hit to the heart; but when you get further you become hungry and tired, right? Also, I’m pretty sure that lapping around makes wounds nasty. Er, nastier.” He explained, while examining the newcomers’ injuries. “You-all look kinda beat. Probably didn’t walk too much, didn’t you? So that’s good.” He added.

They could have yelled ‘that would have been good’. Instead, two by two, eyes speared the queen’s nape. Then, one by one, the party joined Gai. They might have ditched the golden-haired girl (who was, I admit, crowned too quickly). Except she too gave up, and grudged after the ‘Hyme-master’. Gai may have given them a choice, but they were hopeless.