Chapter 7

Dianna glanced at her daughter who was picking herself up from the mud, the feral snarl on her lips causing her own to quirk with mirth. She lunged at her, swampy water and errant clumps of stinking earth flying in nearly all directions as Dianna flapped once and listlessly fluttered beyond her daughter’s reach, earning herself a frustrated and visceral scream for her efforts.

“You said no wings!” The girl fumed, reversing the grip on her spear to hurl it at her smirking mother like a bolt of lightning, who, again, deftly moved away from harm. The weapon lodging itself in the nearby mud, hanging there before slowly falling and plopping against the wet ground.

“I said you couldn't use you're wings.” Dianna helpfully corrected, raising a brow at her daughter as she thunked the girl on the head, the shaft of wood practically following the child, even as she made to dodge with eerie precision. “And now, you don't even have a weapon with you.” Her tail lashed forwards, sweeping Tulla from her hooves before she whacked the girl on the shoulder with enough force to cause her to spin in mid-air.

The result was that her trainee discovered what a face full of mud tasted like as she flipped, wings splaying to try and arrest her fall back into the muck. Several other of the boys and girls who were outside with their parents glanced at Tulla as she seethed, vicious claws extending like bladed knives, worms and wet dirt being spat to the side as she rose again, this time with all the candour of a stalking cat. Whistles and laughter resounded as the settlement's older folk cheered their young ones on, some balling up handfuls of sludgy soil to pitch at the training youths who either dodged or were struck and knocked off balance at inopportune moments. Rainy days were always a treat, Dianna knew, and while not necessarily rare, it was one of the few opportunities the community came together for a little honest fun. Watching one’s young steel themselves against the very trials that they themselves had endured was, for lack of a better way to say it, much of the entertainment they got these days. Some soldiers tossed spare weapons at those who had lost them in an attempt to catch their trainers off guard or, sometimes, to simply knock a cadet's own aside. Others offered words of encouragement or suggestions on how to break their partner's guard, even going so far as to take bets and wagers with what little they still possessed.

No extra spears made their way toward Tulla, however. Though, not because she was shunned, even if there had been a sort of—dislike or, perhaps better to say, rivalry between her own child and many others due to her—temperament, which of course, often extended to the parents themselves. Yet, as of late, the community disposition towards her daughter had been exceedingly—appreciative. She had a good heart, of that Dianna was well aware, and she was proud of her little girl and her clear desire to help others, in her own way. Yet, letting the child get ahead of herself and indulge in her growing confidence was dangerous. Pride and arrogance without the proper tempering was as easy a way to an early grave as incompetence.

Tulla circled her like a beast sizing up its prey, tail carefully swaying to and fro without yet giving the game away. She lunged without so much as offering an indication of her designs, lowering to scoop a handful of mud to fling it at Dianna’s face as she closed the distance.

Grinning to herself but, unwilling to let the little underhanded attempt go unpunished, Dianna thrust the butt of her spear to meet the girl's charge, uncaring for the detritus that splattered against her cheek and chin as the contents of her daughter's stomach upended itself with the blow. The girl staggered, vomiting as she fought to keep her balance, yet still managing to wrap a hand around the spear before Dianna could fully retrieve it, snapping its end with a hateful hiss. In reply, she swept at her child's temple again, her swing a comparatively lazy arc filled with all the openings she could muster. Tulla immediately ducked the haphazard blow, hardly stopping to wipe the bile from her lips as she tried to close again, this time sensing the trap.

Abruptly, Dianna flourished her makeshift stave, altering course to slam it down to her daughter's shoulder, the latter of whom twisted and spun, wrapping her tail around the shaft as it landed in the mud, then using surprise and the application of all her strength to yank the spear from her mother’s hand. The weapon went freely, coated in slime and water as it was, Dianna just managing to release it before the metal tip contacted her hand. Triumph bloomed on the young woman’s face as she brandished her prize, tip first at her mother's chest, grinning cruelly as she took a step towards her, only to scowl and hiss like an angry animal as one of the adults tossed Dianna a fresh spear they cradled in their arms.

“Really?” She demanded, glaring at the laughing Darrel who could only point, doubled over as he was before the girl caught Dianna’s next move.

Leaping for the dirt, Tulla just managed to escape a bone-cracking strike that had been aimed right at her ribs. The power of the blow caused the rain to bubble around the displaced air as it whistled overhead.

“A fight like this is never fair, kiddo!” Tavir called from where he stood, all crossed arms and drenched armour, while watching over his charges like a mother hen with her chicks. “There’s always someone better, someone stronger, smarter, with more resources. Stop complaining and focus on the fight lest you find yourself gutted like a suckling pig.”

Dianna allowed her brother to finish, giving his niece the time she needed to rally herself and peel herself out of the mud. “Ready stance!” She barked, the girl before her shooting to attention and formation, spear rounding through the air to wait at combat rest. Again, she worked her daughter through familiar drills, hammering home the basics that she was well aware Tulla had long since mastered. Then, she set a new pace. Swinging for her head as they began anew, transitioning back into another sparring bout long into the afternoon. Eventually, she receded from the field herself, as many of the older parents whose children had grown enough to stand on their own without supervision. Though she wasn't as old as some of the others who remained on the field absent a mother or father, her daughter wasn't terribly far behind them in growth.

She wandered nearer to Welenda and Robert, who had been watching their twins go at it for some time already. Their spawn had half a dozen years on her own but only stood a head or two taller. Robert took one glance in her direction as she made her way to them and waved, glancing back at his children and calling out to them. “Oi, Drula, Cole, see if you can't knock Dianna’s little monster off her pedestal together, will ya?”

Immediately, the two teenagers glanced at each other, then at Tulla, who, exhausted, turned to them with blazing eyes, daring them to come near. Both parties hesitating before Welenda chipped in as well. “I didn't give birth to cowards, did I?”

There was a groan from all the youths involved as Dianna smiled, clasping arms with the pair before her as she turned back to face the combat. The trio were already moving to size each other up and offer feints, the two larger children spreading out to surround her daughter with textbook tactics. Drula, the more—meek of the twins, held back as her brother finally committed, taking advantage of his foe’s momentary focus on his sister, who feigned a lunge. Like a serpent, Tulla seemed to unerringly elude the boys seeking slash, parrying with the shaft of her spear before flicking its butt into the other twin's shoulder, causing the forward momentum she’d built in a lunge to join in, to abruptly—arrest in a most disastrous fashion. The girl howled in pain as the wood shot upwards, taking her in the chin a moment after and causing her to topple to the ground, a momentary opening that her brother took full advantage of.

Dianna had ensured her daughter to be well exhausted by the time she intended to pit her against the girl's peers, and her efforts in the matter showed. Too slow was the girl to react to the spear that took her in the hip, even as she tried to slide away… The blades were dulled, and the tip blunted, but that didn't mean the training staves were at all something to take lightly. A brilliant gash of fresh crimson bloomed across the girl's side as she snarled, tail lashing hatefully from side to side as the larger boy pressed home his advantage, spear questing for an opening, keeping Tulla on the back hoof as his sister recovered. The boy got a few good wacks to his arms and legs as he pushed his smaller opponent back; however, he was a sturdily built lad, much Dianna thought, as his mother was. He was able to easily weather her daughter’s retreating blows even if he couldn't land many more himself, though, once he was rejoined by his twin, Dianna assumed it to be over.

“Still more dangerous than a venomous snake that one.” Robert chuckled, gesturing with his chin towards the smaller girl fighting his own kin.

“Skill isn't always enough. Eventually, she will learn this lesson, and hopefully, before it gets her killed.”

So saying, Dianna avoided—wincing as her daughter's spear broke upon Cole’s shoulder, the girl employing the very same bait that she had only hours before, right as Dianna was certain her child to be overwhelmed. Tulla’s spear swung, inviting the older boy in before; like crashing thunder, it pivoted direction as she gracefully stepped to the side, the larger boy simply crumpling into the mud as the blow connected…

Her mouth made to open, to—say something that hadn't quite managed to find traction in her mind, but moments before, she watched her daughter howl like a berserker, lunging through the remaining twin's terrified guard. She smacked away the sloppy jab with sneering impunity before balling a fist and slamming it into the other girl's jaw. A rapid spinning kick to follow up upon the unfortunate teenager's tenuous balance rang with a meaty and bone-jarring thud that caused their mother to sigh beside her. Drula spiralled to the side after receiving her opponent's hoof to her temple and then, in unceremonious fashion, splashed against the muck like a forgotten doll.

“Shit, I thought they might win this time…” Robert intoned, Dianna glancing to the man’s mate to see that she was already stomping her way towards her children, no doubt ready to tear hide from the bone. “She was even exhausted for this go around…” The man added while looking up at Dianna with an almost apologetic shrug.

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Equally disappointed, Dianna growled at the state of her ruined plans. Having hoped the pair might knock the girl on her ass for once, but… it simply wasn't to be. “Not their fault…” She offered, placing a reassuring hand on the man who probably felt a touch embarrassed with the showing. “You know what her cousin was like at her age.”

“Ha! I remember what you were like at her age. All the way back in the city… when were were kids…” Robert countered, sighing as he began marching after his wife, who was already about the business of yanking her children up from the mud.

Dianna nodded at her comrade's point, even if the man didn't see the gesture himself. Tulla was—talented. Just as she had been… Perhaps even more so, though, lacked a certain degree of—aggression that Dianna remembered herself to have. Its absence both an asset and a detriment all at the same time. Tulla, by contrast to the twins, dragged herself to stand before a contemplative Dianna whose steely gaze lowered to linger upon her daughter, who waited, returning to parade attention as though to inquire what else her mother intended to throw at her. Above, the clouds were already beginning to break, allowing the warm afternoon light the bathe all present and of course, invite the insects for a feast.

“Adequate.” Was all she was willing to offer the child, the accompanying slight nod causing the girl to stand a fraction taller with the praise. Then Dianna’s nose twitched, and she held back a scowl. Her daughter stunk. That, unfortunately, familiar reek of fresh mud and swamp percolating in the air as the light warmed the quagmire of mush that the impromptu training grounds had become. She glanced down at her own clothes, noting that her legs were caked with drying muck much as her daughter's entire body was and, with a sigh she decided it was probably time for a bath. Not that it wasn't needed, but dousing oneself in an icy river was nobody's idea of a fun time and made most’s desire to adhere to a semblance of hygiene—equally less than desirable for those that had to smell them.

“Shake off the mud from you're wings, child, and we will go wash in the river before the others get there.”

For a moment, her daughter just—stared at her, confused for a handful of beats before she outright sneered at the idea. The corner of one lip curled to reveal her canines as she turned her head and crossed her arms.

“So help me, girl, If you make me throw you in again…”

“At least let me do it at Arthur’s, then.” She growled, glaring at the comparatively nearby river as though it had stepped on her tail.

Dianna paused as her daughter’s words rang home, her head cocking but a moment after she’d withheld a biting remark. She shifted, glancing in the direction of the traveller's strange home, then imagined what it might be like to try and—fit herself inside the tiny abode and actually get anything done. She shook her head a moment later at the sheer lunacy of such a prospect, remembering quite clearly how tight the space had been. “You'll track in more filth than is worth the effort for him to deal with.” She stated, pushing the thought aside as she did so.

“Then, at least let us get some shampoo! I'm sick of smelling like a river.”

This time, Dianna couldn't really—fault the girl's logic. And though she hadn't said so herself, nor ever would she admit to such a thing as being jealous of her little girl, she had taken keen note of just how many baths her child had been taking, seemingly of her own volition… Something that she was actually rather happy about in all honesty… She didn't blame her; in fact, she was ecstatic as Tulla hadn't ever been one for—bathing unless she really had to or it was forced upon her, usually by Dianna herself who’d be stuck dunking the enraged girl with her tail. All the while, her daughter would do her utmost to tear Dianna’s tail to absolute shreds with her claws until she just knocked the little monster unconscious. Offhandedly, she took a handful of her own braid and examined its abused stands, nodding along with the idea as she smiled, much to her daughter's surprise.

They took flight after the pair helped Tulla shake the majority of dirt from her wings, making short work of the distance to their destination, Dianna matching her speed to that of her daughters, who was in a particularly—chipper mood. Admittedly, she was rather looking forward to the prospect of it all as well, especially when she eyed the strangely squat tree in the man’s yard and landed nearby. Both girls glanced around, looking for the curious individual, supposedly from another realm, though, the campground was unusually quiet, devoid of any crackling fire or maddened ravings that she’d, somewhat, come to expect. Reaching out, she plucked one of the bright orange and spherical fruit that her daughter had brought home a previous evening, eagerly tearing into the rather rare specimen with barely contained delight! Chewing through its bitter rind and into the pulpy flesh beneath as its fluids revitalized her with surgery juices. Dianna making short work of the small snack, and the next two she took while her daughter pranced into the clearing, calling out with cupped hands and not receiving so much as a whispered reply.

The girl frowned as she walked up to the camper, testing the door and finding it locked, the interior blacked out and impossible to see through.

“Well, he’s not napping…” Tulla muttered as much to herself as to her own mother as she peered up towards the sky, focused as though trying to find something.

Dianna raised a brow at her daughter’s—leap of logic and subsequent strangeness, even as she herself wandered over to the bucket of beer that was usually filled with ice. There still were a few clusters of cubes but, for the most part, the dozen or so beverages that remained were still cold. She helped herself, having spent enough time at Arthur’s camp to—almost think of it as, well not a second home but certainly a familiar and comfortable space.

“Care to share how you know that little detail with me?”

“Mhmm, he puts a sign up for me when he does, so I don't wake him up…”

Dianna just rolled her eyes as she watched her daughter begin digging through an exterior cupboard, moving as though she’d done so a thousand times beforehand. “You don't seem concerned in the least I notice.” She commented, her words born of a genuine uncertainty for the situation as she held the small bottle in her hand.

This was the first time Dianna had flown here and not been greeted by the abode's sole inhabitant. And though tracking the Tricen that had kidnapped her daughter had proven—trickier than initially presumed, a pang of worry flitted at the back of her mind at the almost eerie wrongness of the surrounding silence.

“Yeah…” Her daughter drawled, pulling her head from the compartment with several bottles and several towels in hand. “But I doubt he’s in any danger… Plus, when he’s usually not here, he’s never that far away. Probably just cataloging local plant life or something of the like. I know it sounds weird, but he seems to enjoy that sort of thing.”

So saying, Dianna watched as her daughter began putting together a strange contraption mounted to the RV’s side. The girl quickly assembling a sort of white tube-like structure before reaching back into the compartment to activate a switch. A moment later, several of the tubes began spraying pressurized water at a centralized location, Tulla turning to grin at her mother, who simply watched her with curiosity.

“Not the first time I’ve been too dirty to clean off inside. There’s also these silly curtain things that Arthur always insists I use but when he’s not here, I never put them on, complete pain in the arse to deal with. Nudity's apparently a big thing with him.”

The demoness just stared at the queer scene before her, trying to wrap her head around what she was exactly seeing while also chewing on the notion of her daughter's outright familiarity with it all… The girl stripped, tossing her clothes aside before beginning to vigorously wash away the fifth that had caked during their flight, working through her hair with a foaming substance that she quickly identified as soap. Though the girl hissed as the product touched her fresh wound, shallow as it was, she made sure to properly clean it as she moved.

The scent was honestly nice, not her favourite mix that he daughter had worn, but one that she’d been suspiciously curious about for quite some time as it seemed to have the longest run aboung the various soaps she’d apparently been indulging in. Her daughter often was, these days, returned home while in her arms. Almost always after passing out in the moving home. Again, typically, while smelling exactly like the citrusy perfume filling her nose as though she’d begun to take evening baths on a regular basis.

Dianna joined her daughter a handful of heartbeats later, setting her spent beverage aside and beginning to help her the girl work through any knots in her hair or hard-to-reach places on her wings, enjoying the steamy pampering herself for quite some time until it notably grew colder. Both of them were long since done anyway, so, they departed from the spray, Tulla quickly shutting the system off before allowing her mother to towel her down.

Dianna wrapped the girl from head to toe in the plush cloth, eliciting a series of merry giggles from her child while she began rebraiding her hair, enjoying the time they were spending together, which was rare for them both. Tulla’s hair was already getting long again… nearly the length of her lower back. Once in a braid, it wasn't so bad, but Tulla had always adamantly refused to let anyone cut it unless it was taken, again, by force. Briefly, she considered her own hair, which, while not as long, wasn't too far off below her own upper back, the regulatory cut-off for enlisted soldiers already blown right by. But, she shrugged the thought away with disinterest. The legions didn't own her anymore. And though she still held a duty to the empire who expected them to settle the lands, such loyalty had become a brittle thing as of late…

“I’ll need to carry you back wrapped up in these towels…” Dianna mused, putting the finishing weaves in her work before leaning forwards and taking a deep breath of her daughter's head. Again, the girl giggled with delight, all signs of their previous hostility during practice forgotten. “You're clothes are simply too filthy to dress in.

“You're’s aren't much better.”

“Hush.”

“What, they stink…”

“A consequence of living in the wild.” Dianna intoned, eyeing her leathers with a dubious eye of her own. They could always just fly back in the bluff, she supposed… after all, such things weren't at all uncommon within the military, considering privacy could be little to nonexistent. Such was the life of a soldier. Thus, it wasn't as though she were exactly complaining. One could get used to all manner of discomforts when discipline was one's bread and butter.

In the end, Dianna decided that she could deal with a little fresh air. Wandering to collect their clothes as Tulla dismantled the contraption and cleaned up after their intrusion, her diligence towards her efforts bringing a genuine smile to her mother's face. Then, the pair were off again, returning home after their brief departure from the norm. She’d probably have to take a trip to the river regardless to wash away all the mud and grime on their clothes, but such was the life she’d chosen…