I swing around as something falls from the sky, my knife practically leaping into my hand as I do. At the last moment, both I and the falling creature check ourselves. I redirect my knife swing downwards, and the creature banks its wings to gain a little height. The bird instead lands on a branch just above my head and glares down at me balefully. Disapproval and admonishment come down the Bond at me.
You flew at us just as we finished a fight. What were we supposed to think? I complain at her in response. The bird flips her wings and preens with an affronted air. I sigh. Sorry for accidentally trying to attack you. Even if it was the most reasonable thing for me to do in that moment. The bird stops her preening and gazes at me judgmentally. Clearly deciding that my apology is – barely – acceptable, she pushes off from the branch with her strong front legs, winging quickly over to land on River’s shoulder.
He looks at the bird, then at me. For all that our faces are completely different shapes, and his doesn’t have nearly the same types of muscles as mine does, I can still see the long-suffering in his expression. Or maybe that’s just because of emotions filtering over the Bond.
Don’t look at me, I tell him, with a trace of humour and not a little glee. I’m already carrying something. Someone. Wordlessly, he sighs and then continues to trudge forwards. Realising that we’re currently walking without a proper destination, I look at the bird. Do you know of a place nearby where we can rest?
The bird cocks her head on one side, then the other. After a moment, she sends me a picture of a fallen tree. It’s one of the forest giants, its trunk probably as round as I am tall. Moreover, it obviously came down a while ago: its trunk is mostly eaten away in the centre.
Is it close? I check. My ally pauses for a moment and then sends me a sense of distance. It’s difficult to parse since it seems to be measured more in wing-beats and body-lengths than anything more relatable for me, but I get the sense that it’s close by. As a bird flies anyway. Hah. Come on then, guys, I tell my poor fellow land-bound companions.
We walk through the trees until we get to the hollowed-out log. Fortunately, much as the bird had promised, it really wasn’t very far. Far enough to be out of the initial wave of scavengers coming to eat the leftovers of our battle, but not much beyond that. It’s also, while not perfect, a much better option than just falling asleep there on the forest floor.
Despite the years that have evidently gone past, there’s still a reasonably sturdy shell of wood around the outside. We can also put the cubs and Lathani further inside and have the fighters near the entrance. Plus, with us all piled in there, we’re only really visible from one angle. It’ll do. I swing my newest Bound off my shoulders. He’s still immobile. It makes me a little concerned, though as I look, I see him breathing well enough. At least, I think it’s well enough: it’s slower than before he was Bound. Is that a bad sign?
I check the Bond. He doesn’t seem distressed. Looking up, I see River climbing into the log and leaning against its wall, his spear propped next to him. It’s good to see him prepared to fight if something goes wrong. I figure I’ll do the same sort of thing, probably taking the other side. That way, something wanting to attack the vulnerable members of our party will have to go past all the adults first.
River, I ask, trying to direct my ‘voice’ at him only, seeing that Bastet’s already laid her head down on her taloned front feet, the cubs cuddled against her. How long will the poison take to wear off our newest pack-mate?
Not too long, he reassures me. It depends on how much poison entered his system, but he’s already been affected for a relatively long time. He should be able to twitch soon and then the rest of his ability to move will follow.
OK, thanks, I tell him. He nods and closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the log wall. I look at the lizog now. If you feel like something’s wrong, or the poison’s not wearing off as it should, wake me by sending a feeling of urgency down the Bond. Understood? He replies with a sense of uncertainty, but an acknowledgment nonetheless. I get the feeling that he’s not used to having the pack alpha pay so much attention to his well-being. In fact, my impression is that he tries to avoid the attention of the alpha as much as possible since it almost always means that he’s going to get bitten. A lizog pack definitely seems significantly more cut-throat than a raptorcat one. Strange. Anyway, not something to bother considering now. I look to River’s shoulder next.
Will you keep watch for threats? I ask the bird. She sends me a wave of reassurance, leaping and gliding from her perch to rest instead on top of the log above the entrance. OK, thanks, I tell her before climbing into the hollow log. Everyone else is already inside, immediately asleep. Downsides of being the leader, I suppose – needing to make sure that everyone else is sorted first before resting myself. Then again, between all of us, I’ve probably had the most rest in the last few days overall. Thankfully, I’ve done everything I must so I join them, my aching body and overused mind pulling me straight into slumber as soon as my muscles release their tension.
*****
Something’s crawling on me. I brush at it, only to wince when my movement makes other creepy crawlies on me start biting.
“Ow, ow, ow,” I complain, sitting up and brushing myself off frantically. Serves me right for falling asleep in a bug-infested log. Also, I can’t say I’m surprised that this place has vicious insects, no matter their size. By the time I feel free of little legs crawling all over me, I realise that everyone is staring. “Sorry, did I wake you?” Bastet is the first to answer, indicating that one of the cubs had woken her a little before. Suddenly I realise that I was speaking aloud and grin.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
My lips widen further as I check my health bar and see that it’s fully recovered. Obviously, we’ve been sleeping long enough for my passive healing to fix everything. Touching my leg, I pull off my makeshift bandage, shoving the blood-stained fabric into my Inventory. Going over my injury, I see that it’s healed with only the faintest of marks remaining. Huh, interesting to see that there are any marks remaining – perhaps it’s because the healing took some time rather than the relatively quick process of Lay-on-hands? Something to discover later. I look out of the mouth of the log.
The lizog is sitting outside the log, in a position that is so similar to a dog’s watchful guard pose that I almost have a double-take. He sends me a sense that he was already on guard and so wasn’t woken. There’s a hint of uncertainty in the emotions attached to the message; I wonder why, but when I reply with approval, I see his body language brighten. Maybe he just feels unsure about his place in our group? Not unexpected, I suppose. I’m distracted by Lathani’s response to my original question.
Yes, says Lathani. You looked like a beetle with half its legs torn off.
“Thanks,” I reply sarcastically.
You’re welcome, she replies blithely. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be called a beetle with half its legs torn off, but maybe that’s a compliment for you. I’m not sure if she’s being serious, or messing with me, but I don’t feel like pursuing it.
I was already awake, River informs me. I woke when Lathani started snoring like a dying prey-beast. Lathani’s hackles rise.
Mother says that nunda are grace and deadliness personified; we are only seen or heard when we want to be, and then our majesty is enough to stun onlookers into submission. I don’t snore.
Sorry to contradict your self-image, River continues with a teasing tone, but you do snore. And it was loud enough to startle me out of a lovely dream.
NO I DON’T, Lathani shouts, her mental voice loud enough to make me wince. She bares her teeth and looks to be a moment away from pouncing on River, claws fully out. Although I’d probably bet on River in such a scuffle – since experience wins in a roughly equal fight nine times out of ten – I decide to intervene.
“Guys, do you want to get back today or not?” I ask, my tone not loud but forceful. I’ve had practice in using different tones of voice to deal with a number of stressful situations. This one definitely calls for calm but firm intervention. “Because if you get in a fight, I can assure you that we won’t be covering much ground due to needing to heal up.” The reminder is enough to make Lathani deflate. When River looks like he’s considering poking at her again, I give him a warning look and jab over the Bond. Why he’s deciding that right now would be a good ‘tease the nunda cub’ time, I don’t know. Is it relief of getting out of the vine-strangler forest, underground tunnels, and past the lizog guarding the entrance which is making him so playful?
Fortunately, with my warning, he also deflates and looks away. “Good,” I say, my tone losing its edge. “Now, does anyone want any food? We need to find a river for water.” As I say that, my Tamed companion sends me a sense that there’s some water not far from where we are. “OK, change of plan: let’s go and find the water, then eat there. Agreed?” I get a round of agreements more or less verbally. Nodding in satisfaction, I make sure my mace is close to hand and we get going.
My bow is in the first slot of my Inventory, relatively easily accessible in case I need it, without impeding my movement. I was pleased to note that as I put lizog corpses into it, the arrows I hadn’t been able to collect automatically got sorted into a different slot. I was less pleased to see that broken arrows each got their own slot too: any broken arrow means hours more effort to recreate it. Then again, I suppose it’s a boon if at least the heads are saved since they’re the most difficult to recreate.
Against expectations, we actually manage to make it to the water source without being bothered by any other creatures. It’s less of a river and more of a small pond with water flowing in and out. Not stagnant water, at least. As my companions drink hungrily, I quickly set up a small fire. It’ll take a bit of time, but I have no idea where this water is coming from, and don’t feel like getting a stomach bug of some sort. Or parasites.
It’s hard to wait, though, my mouth dry and throat aching for water. That said, I’m not actually as thirsty as I’d imagine I’d be after so long without water. Not to mention that I wasn’t exactly relaxing the majority of that time. I wonder... I look up at the sky, trying to distract myself a little while doing something useful. I call up my map to get my bearings.
We’ve just walked a little north-east from the tunnel to get here – I marked the tunnel on my map before we left just to make sure I’d be able to find my way back. After all, it might have been a horrendous experience, but I can’t forget that there’s still a king’s ransom’s worth of Energy-Hearts: River and Bastet working together weren’t even able to make much more than a small dent in the number encrusting the walls of the cavern.
Based on that direction, I work out that it’s got to be into the afternoon already. The sun isn’t that far from midday, but it’s on its downward trend. So, we must have passed the night in the tunnels, and then emerged sometime in the morning. Then slept for a while. It’s hard to tell the time now that my Energy store isn’t growing as fast: travelling up the tunnel, my Energy absorption dropped fast. The tunnel mouth was back to around fifty units per hour, but moving away from the tunnel mouth saw it drop further. By this point, it’s back down to a pitiful eighteen units per hour.
Given that with an absorption rate of over seven hundred units per hour I only gained two percent in my Energy store per hour, I can only despair at the thought of how much Energy I need to gain to advance now. Though, maybe that’s a good thing: some instinct tells me that if I tried to level-up now, it might be the straw that breaks the camel’s...Core. Or something like that.
My water’s finally boiling. I take the pan off the fire, pouring it into my sneleon shell. One-handed, I refill the wok and put it back on the fire. Blowing on the surface of the water, I wait with impatience until it cools enough for me to drink it.
It may just be boiled pond water, but to me right now, it’s ambrosia of the gods.