“Uncle Lachlan, Unca Lach!” Ursol whispered urgently, pressing down on the Marine’s t-shirt covered chest as though performing CPR. While not enough force to resuscitate the soldier in the event of cardiac arrest, it was plenty to rouse him from sleep. Ursol didn’t stop pushing gently at him even when MacGregor’s eyes opened and he rubbed away the sleep with a groan. One glance to his right was enough to catch a glimpse of Sentaura’s ankles and feet going about her morning routine in the bedroom of the house, and he deduced that if there was an emergency it was a four year old Cauthan emergency and not an actual one.
“Oi, do ya know what time it is, wee laddie?” he murmured, feeling the typical dryness in his throat that accompanied the colder nights on Mara. Barely any light was filtering into the home at that hour, making it an exceptional early morning even for the excitable Ursol. He did, however, have an answer ready for Lachlan’s question.
“Festival time, festival time! Uncle Lachlan get up! It’s festival time!”
“I believe he heard you the first several times, dear,” Sentaura interrupted, rescuing Lachlan from the fluffy child as he ran to her and grabbed at the hem of her dress.
“Mamma, it’s festival time!”
“I know too, sweetie,” she assured him, kneeling and nuzzling him quickly on the cheek. “But the festival will not begin for some time, not until Seil crests the walls of the village. So go and get some water for our morning tea, would you? I think it’s only fair since you woke Lachlan up.”
“Ok mom, I’ll get it!” he declared, puffing out his chest before grabbing the family bucket and zipping out into the streets. Lachlan shared a chuckle with Sentaura as the clattering of the wooden tool against the packed dirt streets grew fainter.
“I’m glad that we built that water wheel and the accompanying troughs. I would never be comfortable letting him go outside the walls alone at his age. I apologize for his excitability but today is-”
“It’s no trouble at all, mum. He’s a lot more gentle about it than my old drill instructors,” Lachlan replied, standing and making up his bed neatly before throwing on a thicker top garment. He’d slept in his pants every night while bunking at Sentaura’s home on account of posterity and decorum, but the falling temperatures were making such an arrangement more comfortable regardless.
Sentaura looked at him with a forgiving but complicated expression. “Even so, it was still rude of him. I just cannot bring myself to come down hard on him on a day like today. He always… he always…”
Lachlan lowered his head and turned to the side as Sentaura’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry, mum.”
“I am too, Lachlan. My fondest memories are from the harvest festival, being happy with my two boys. It is hard to keep them in the past on days like today. Could I trouble you to help me with the morning’s fire?”
“It’s no problem at all, mum,” the Scotsman insisted, quickly collecting dry tinder and logs that he stacked in the shape of a cone. A few moments later the dried twigs and grasses caught a spark easily and crackled to life. With a little help from Sentaura’s lungs the flames spread to the drywood and heat soon radiated throughout the common area of the home.
“Would you like to eat something this morning, Lachlan?” she offered, the tasks of keeping her home in order distracting her momentarily from the past. “We tend not to have breakfast before the harvest festival in the event something delicious piques our interest. But I know you can be rather hungry in the mornings.”
The Marine smiled politely at her, suffering through another of the familiar and uncomfortable moments that had followed Sentaura’s tirade on the evening he’d told her about his species’ impending departure. No decision had been made by the council of priests. If it had, it had not been conveyed to either of them or the general public. He bore it stoically however, taking an offered piece of dried meat from her that he washed down with water and a ration bar that he’d grabbed the last time he’d visited the Event Horizon to groom and otherwise take care of himself and his gear. “That’s very kind of ye, mum. I think I’ll be fine today. The Lieutenant has been eatin’ yer food for a year and change now, don’ see any reason I can’t do the same.”
“I’m glad to hear you have an open mind. I hope you will find some of the food on display to your liking,” she replied a bit too formally. Lachlan sighed, pushing through his uncertainty given the impending return of young Ursol.
“Mum, can I ask ye something? At this festival, I think I’ve heard enough from Alice an’ the rest ta get a general idea, are ye concerned about some o’ the other lads in the village? I can always go and find Alice an’ spend time with her but if ye would prefer I stick around so no one, well, ya know…”
Sentaura looked him over with surprised approval. “That is rather kind of you, Lachlan, even though your offer would not be seen in such a way by others. I am not worried about those things. There are a small handful of formerly mated males in the village who might consider me, but we already have too many females after last winter’s disaster. They will have their pick of the females with no prior cubs to speak of. No one will need to settle for someone like me. You do not need to pretend to court me in order to-”
“Mamma! Festival is gonna start soon!” Ursol cried happily, tottering back into their home holding the bucket to his chest. In his zeal to return some of the water had sloshed and dampened his fur or otherwise escaped, but there was still enough for Sentaura to make a quick brew of morning tea before they set out.
“And I’m sure that you spent plenty of time looking around instead of coming right back here with the water,” she guessed, taking the bucket and setting about her simple task. “The faster we all enjoy our tea, the faster we can get to the festival.”
“Unca Lach, why you look like you swallowed shen poop?” Ursol requested, earning a slightly shocked look from the Marine before judgment swiftly descended upon him.
“Ursol!” Sentaura snapped, grabbing the feathers of his head and tugging not so gently so that he was forced to look at her.
“Momma, you’re hurting me!” he cried. MacGregor felt for the lad, but knew far better than to intervene in Sentaura’s discipline.
“Yes I am, Ursol. I know you are excited for the festival, but being excited does not give you an excuse to be so rude. Who taught you to say those things, hmm?”
Ursol sniffled, but for a brave moment said nothing. One slight twist of Sentaura’s hand had him spilling a name that Lachlan was unfamiliar with, likely one of the older cubs that still spent his days at the Temple of Meylith. Lachlan nodded to himself from his chair as Sentaura released her son, knelt before him, and smoothed his feathers back out. “I suppose I might have a talk with his mother later. I want you to apologize for saying such rude things to Lachlan now. Then we’ll have our tea and go to the festival, alright sweetie?”
“Y-yes momma,” the young cub sniffled before turning to Lachlan. “Sorry Uncle Lach. I didn’t mean to say naughty things.”
“Apology accepted wee laddie,” the Marine assured him at once, trying to dispel a feeling of creeping dread as he realized that they might be spending one of their last mornings together. He opened his arms to the rambunctious Cauthan. “Why don’t ya come sit with me an’ we’ll let your mum do her thing, alright?”
“That hurt real bad, Unca Lach,” Ursol told the Marine as he was hoisted onto the man’s lap.
“Aye, and don’t think I’ll be protectin’ ya from yer mum if she’s got a mind to be scoldin’ ye. I enjoy livin’.”
“Ursol, Lachlan was just suggesting that he join us for the festival today,” Sentaura remarked offhandedly, throwing a brief but very intentional glance directly at Lachlan before turning to peruse her shelves for dried herbs and leaves. “Would you like that?”
Ursol’s eyes were as big as dinner plates, looking between his mother, whose tail was waving in an almost taunting fashion, and Lachlan who looked like a chesko caught in one of Ratha’s traps. “Unca… Unca Lachlan and momma are going to dance together?” he gasped scandalously.
“Well just hold on a minute there, wee laddie!” the human insisted, his look of betrayal met by a most bemused expression on Sentaura’s face. He didn’t have the first inkling of how to explain something as complicated as his companionship with Ursol’s mother in the context of the harvest festival. “I think that might be a bit inappropriate.”
“Aww, ok,” Ursol replied dejectedly, his naive but honest feelings on the matter made clear. “If Uncle Lach danced with momma she would be happy.”
Lachlan’s brows shot up towards his hairline as Sentaura suddenly lost the high ground in their little duel of words, betrayed by her own son. She calmed her feathers and began ladling steaming water into mugs for the three of them. “It will be cold today, so make sure to finish it. And blow on it so you don’t burn your tongue or lips.”
Ursol nodded in understanding as he reached out with two hands for his wooden cupful of tea, steadied by Lachlan. The Marine accepted his own beverage once Ursol was situated comfortably again and he could spare a hand. “Thanks momma!”
“That’s the ticket, laddie. Thank ye from me as well, mum. It smells nice,” he told her, finding that idle pleasantries at least were relatively free of tension.
“Such polite young men. You’re most welcome,” she replied, crossing her legs and taking a moment to enjoy her tea in silence. Her eyes were drawn to the doorway, where the first golden fingers of Seil’s light could be seen touching the roofs of the village. As such her moment of peace was brief, with Ursol downing his tea as fast as he could possibly manage without bodily injury.
“Festival! Festival!”
“Yes, I suppose it’s time we make our way to the square,” she agreed, earning a squeal of delight from her son. “Go and get your cloak, Ursol, and not the one made from ursae pelt. It’s still too big for you. Grab mine as well please. Lachlan, will you be comfortable dressed as you are?”
“Should be, mum. If not, the Admiral said he’ll be runnin’ shuttles to an’ from the village for most of the day. He wants some more of the crew ta experience this little festival of yours. I can hop back up and get somethin’ warmer if I need it,” he explained deferentially. Sentaura nodded as she donned her own outer garments.
“As you wish, Lachlan. There should be some cloaks on display if you are so inclined. Are you ready, Ursol?”
“Festival!” he shouted in confirmation, tottering outside without properly fastening his cloak. Sentaura breathed an exasperated but compassionate sigh and hurried after him, leaving Lachlan in the dark as to whether he was technically accompanying her to the festival or not.
“Well, in a few days it won’t matter much one way or the other,” he remarked dully, grabbing much of his gear and following after Sentaura. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”
-----
“Oh just get it over with would you? Seil’s already risen,” Ratha encouraged her mate, snacking lightly on some dried chesko. As her belly grew she was rarely seen without some sort of provisions on her person, though no one dared mention her increased appetite save Antoth himself. The high priest had other concerns, however, finding himself clothed in ceremonial robes previously tailored for his shorter and more rotund predecessor. Alyra had done her best.
“Would it have been too much to ask for these to have been lost in the fires as well?” he groused.
“Oh hush, you look just fine. You feeling naked without your armor is a personal problem. Now hurry up so I can eat for real. I find myself craving minced meat and bread,” Ratha insisted, gesturing with an impatient claw towards the raised platform that had been assembled just in front of the ursae skull. With no temple of Seil to speak of either in the present or near future, it was a makeshift solution to give Antoth the height advantage over the milling, excited crowd of Cauthan. He noticed several featherless heads as well among the populace, belonging to Alice, Lachlan, Russell, and a handful of other guests from the Event Horizon.
“As you wish, my dear,” he grumbled, ascending the dais and clearing his throat. Many fell silent immediately out of respect, but his voice was more than up to the task. He glanced down at Ratha once more before beginning.
“Don’t be so nervous. You’ve already given me a cub,” she said quietly in a rare moment of tenderness and support. Antoth’s eyes narrowed happily at her fluttering feathers before he placed his hands behind his back and addressed the village square as a whole.
“Good people, lend me your ears for a moment,” he requested, causing a ripple of silence to emanate through the crowd from his position out to the most distant stalls where shopkeeps and farmers were doing their best to keep eager children and adults alike from swiping produce before the official opening of the festival.
“Speech!” Staroth shouted from somewhere in the crowd, more than sufficient to goad the remainder of the town guard into a short-lived rabble in support of their former commander. Antoth shook his head and feathers in mild exasperation, but all could tell he appreciated the encouragement.
“Yes yes, you’ll get your speech,” he assured them. “Seil, unlike Uthos, demands such things. I know all of you are eager to begin the celebrations this year and it’s no wonder. There is much to celebrate. We are joined this year by new allies, and maybe even friends.”
Antoth gestured quickly to where Natori stood proudly nearby with Io at his side. She was wearing an HEL officer’s uniform as well as a garrison cap atop her tightly bound hair, styled in its usual bun. ‘He’s talking about you,’ she hissed quietly.
Natori smiled and waved briefly to the crowd, his prodigious height making it easy for most of the Cauthan to see him as Antoth continued with the opening words. “We welcome these humans to share in our bounty and our traditions in the hopes of forging a mutual and reciprocal relationship between our peoples. I ask that you all do your best to make them feel welcome here today.”
“I’d say you’ve shared in quite a bit of my bounty,” Veera whispered to her husband, earning herself a clandestine swat on the fluffy rear as Russell couldn’t help a smirk. Unlike the prior year, the two of them had arrived on time for the opening of the festival.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“You wouldn’t want to defy the high priest now, would you?” he teased her, feeling her tail brushing against his legs for a brief second while the rest of the populace focused on Antoth.
“Maybe if you’re good we can take a break at midday to share a bit more. No one will be around the blockhouse.” Veera giggled deviously as Russell cleared his throat, returning his attention to the center of the square before his pregnant wife led them both down a rather appealing but inappropriate line of conversation.
“This is a time of both celebration and thanks, a tribute to the gods who have seen us through yet another year. This one… was not easy,” Antoth remarked, drawing serious and mournful murmurings from the crowd. “Each and every one of us has honored the nine in their efforts this year as we rebuilt our homes, tilled the land, and reaped the forest’s bounty. This festival is well earned, this year more than any year in living memory!”
A light smattering of cheers and agreement filled the air in response to Antoth’s statement and he held up a hand patiently, waiting for relative silence before concluding his speech. “As you indulge and enjoy yourselves today, please take a moment to remember and cherish those who are no longer with us, hunters, guardsmen, and brave fathers and mothers who went too soon to Kel’s embrace so that we might live. Let this festival be a tribute to them as well. Thank you all for your attention. In the name of Seil, giver of life and light, I declare this festival opened.”
Like a coiled spring finally released, the sea of Cauthan let out a grand cheer and immediately began milling about, with most rushing to their favorite produce stall or looking to grab prime real estate on benches near the many small fire pits that would be lit to ward off the morning’s chill. Located in the middle of that scrum, Alice was over the moon with excitement. “Oh sorry! Excuse me! Woah, alright!” she exclaimed, naturally working her way against the movement of the crowds and instead seeking out some of the less populated areas of the village square. Perhaps subconsciously she made her way over to the couple of stalls where Alyra and her acolytes were displaying some of their more common goods for barter, items to be traded among the village populace as opposed to with outside caravans. The blonde Cauthan, who was proudly wearing her sunglasses as Seil rose above the trees to shine directly into her face, waved her over.
“Alice, my dear! What color are you wearing today!” the priestess inquired animatedly.
“W-what? Alyra, you can’t just ask someone what color their panties are!” the xenobiologist blurted, the eventual translation stilling Alyra’s feathers as she cocked her head.
“When did I say anything about your undergarments? I was referring to your claws, Alice,” the Cauthan clarified. Alice buried her head in her hands, inadvertently showing off a lime green color.
“I’m such an idiot. Sorry Alyra, it’s really early for me still. I don’t know how my brother and Lachlan do it so easily.” The human finished with a large yawn, further displaying her nails as she covered her mouth. “Excuse me.”
“Think nothing of it dear. If my pregnant acolytes can show up to work at the break of dawn I’m sure that you can too. Just takes a bit of willpower,” the priestess insisted pleasantly. “That’s quite the interesting color. Do you think I could try it?”
Alice smiled and slung her messenger bag from her shoulder, rummaging around in it until she located a clear bottle full of lime green nail polish, holding it up to the light like some sort of trophy or gemstone. More than one of Alyra’s acolytes leaned forward to get a closer look, while the priestess’ feathers shook with evident excitement. The human smiled happily. “I may be tired as anything, but I thought it might be a good idea to take this along anyway.”
“You thought right,” Alyra replied approvingly, extending her claws and looking at the one that was still hot pink. “Though I do worry about the overall look. They really don’t match, do they?”
“Here, may I?” Alice requested, setting her bag down and withdrawing a small bottle of polish remover as many of the other Cauthan from the temple of the Twins gathered around, their busiest hours of the festival still ahead of them as the majority of the townsfolk took to enjoying an early morning breakfast with one another. Alyra held out her hand at Alice’s gesture and the xenobiologist carefully looked over the finger and claw that she had helped Alyra paint a couple of days prior. Gerard had assured her that the Cauthan relied upon keratin-like proteins to build their nails, feathers, and fur, but she saw no sense in throwing caution to the winds.
“Not that I mind, dear, but what’s this about?” Alyra wondered with a slight purr in her voice as Alice felt around the digit. “Or do you just wish that you had claws like we do?”
Alice giggled and nodded her head. “I certainly wouldn’t mind. There have been more than a few moments in my life when whipping out some hardware like this would have been quite the statement. Does anything feel out of place, Alyra? Any sensitivity, tingling, pain?”
“No. I feel quite normal, thank you,” the Cauthan clarified as Alice sat on a stool provided by one of Alyra’s acolytes.
“Oh, thank you very much! Feels a bit like a salon now, doesn’t it? Let’s get this old polish off and then we’ll be ready to go!” Alice explained, grabbing a reusable cloth from her bag and applying a small amount of the acetone-based solution to it. In keeping with salon-based customs, Alyra continued the conversation as Alice worked on her claw.
“And what is a salon, exactly?” she questioned. “Your device there does not seem to have a word for it in our language.”
“I suppose that would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Alice agreed, blowing Alyra’s nail dry before shaking the bottle of green polish and unscrewing the cap. The Cauthan’s finger twitched slightly at the sensation of the coating as Alice explained the concept. “So a salon is a business, like your temple I suppose. Humans, mainly women but also plenty of men, go there to have their looks changed or enhanced professionally. Anything that you can alter easily, your hair, your nails, eyebrows or eyelashes, that’s the sort of thing they work on. What I’m doing now is really easy stuff that you can do at home, but that’s where you’d go if you wanted something more difficult done, like changing your hair color, getting your hair curled or straightened, having more elaborate designs painted on your nails, that sort of thing. You can also get nail polish treatments there that will last for weeks if you’re careful.”
“Really? That’s hard to believe,” one of the acolytes of the Twins remarked. Alyra glanced her way and raised her feathers in agreement.
“You said it was a business, Alice?” the high priestess asked. “Which of your gods do these… salon workers? Shall we call them that? Oh, that color does look quite radiant. It doesn’t match my fur in the slightest but I will enjoy having it for a day or two. Anyway, what god do they worship? You say they are similar to my temple. Is something the matter?”
“No no, not at all,” Alice replied, trying to stifle her laughter before returning to Alyra’s keen, pointed claw. “You have a lot of ground to cover here. I was just laughing at the idea of a salon being a temple. Maybe at one time there was an association with a god or multiple gods and beautification, but now you can usually find one or more of them in almost any town or city in my country. For those who choose to go there it’s just part of our routines. It’s not exactly the same thing, but even low maintenance people like my brother used to go get his hair cut once every month or two before joining the HEL.”
“Mmm, I suppose that would make sense,” Alyra mused, tapping at her muzzle with a finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him shedding.”
“Definitely not!” Alice agreed. “I haven’t seen her around yet today, but I’m sure that Anita will be visiting the festival at some point. I don't know if the two of you are acquainted, but she’s got dark brown skin and black hair that hangs to her waist. If humans don’t cut or trim our hair it will just keep growing, though keeping it presentable takes a lot of effort. Otherwise you end up with split ends, knots, and all other sorts of madness. I don’t know how she does it. I prefer to keep my hair like this, about my shoulder length.”
“I see, I see,” the Cauthan priestess hummed, seeming to take the subject of conversation quite seriously, perhaps even too seriously from Alice’s perspective. Clarity was forthcoming however, with Alyra proving herself an openly spoken woman. “In the event I were to seek out a new profession on your world, do you think I would be better served opening a salon or becoming a designer of clothing?”
“I… what?” Alice asked, finishing up with Alyra’s single claw. “If you liked the color I would put a clear coat on it to keep it looking nice for a while, but you said it clashes a bit, right?”
“This is more than fine, thank you Alice. Who’s next?” Alyra asked, finding that many of her acolytes were ready to spring at the offer once given the go ahead from their superior. The human looked around nervously as the females crowded near, angling to experience the same thing as their chief priestess. Alyra restored order calmly, pointing and pushing them into line or back to their stalls. “Now now, let’s look a bit more orderly. She can only work on one of us at a time and she needs to enjoy the festival as well.”
“I didn’t bring all my colors with me though and-”
“Not a problem,” Alyra insisted easily, holding up the bottle of green nail polish to one of her fellows. “Go to Alice’s dwelling and retrieve anything that looks like this, colored liquid in a clear container with a brush inside. Disturb nothing else. Am I clear?”
“Of course, priestess,” the other Cauthan replied with a bow, hurrying off to obey her orders while others were commanded to procure a selection of food and drink to fill Alice’s belly. Cognizant that Alyra was still a high priest of the village despite her youthful vigor and occasional impulsiveness, Alice cleared her throat politely.
“Is something the matter, my dear?” Alyra asked, feigning innocence.
“No, not exactly,” Alice stuttered. “It’s just that part of my, well, job I guess is to observe and document this festival.”
“Are you not doing so right now?” the priestess wondered, watching as the first couple of guardsmen who were off duty took to the sparring grounds. “We are part of this festival too!”
“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise,” Alice deferred, running a couple of fingers through her hair to tuck it behind one ear. Alyra watched the motion closely. “But do you typically paint one anothers’ claws at festivals?”
“No no, I suppose we do not. Usually we remain here with our goods for most of the two days, letting the females who are of age and unmated go to frolic about and hopefully win themselves a mate. Pickings will be slim this year. My acolytes need every edge they can get. Please consider this a request. I will personally ensure that you are able to enjoy all that our festival has to offer to the fullest,” Alyra promised as the young Cauthan woman she’d sent off to Alice’s place returned, out of breath but triumphantly cradling several bottles of nail polish in her arms like priceless treasures.
“I found them, Alyra! She has red and black and blue and this one sparkles like the river water at first light!”
Alice was forced to cover her mouth, fighting off a laugh as the whole of the temple, minus Asha and a few other individuals, gathered around the table to behold the spectacle of a simple, opalescent nail polish. She had to admit that ‘river’s first light’ was a far better name than whatever the manufacturer had come up with. Alyra looked her way as she restored order among her acolytes and sent the majority of them back to their posts with promises that they would have their turn. “Can we count on you in this endeavor, Alice?”
Alice bit her lower lip and nodded, accepting what appeared to be the youngest of the bunch at her ‘salon’. “Yeah, we have an agreement then Alyra. As Russell’s sister however, I feel the need to point out that at least for females, mating with another Cauthan might not be necessary?”
“She is too young this year,” Alyra replied calmly, stroking the feathers of the young acolyte in question. “But I wanted you to practice once or twice before attending to those who are. As for the subject of taking human males as mates, you are hardly the first to notice Veera looking rather plump. As there have been no accusations or executions, you may be right on that count. It is irrelevant if our species part ways after this festival, however. This leads me back to my first question that you have yet to answer.”
“Oh, about profession you mean?” Alice remembered, taking a moment to shake the nail polish bottle and smile at the Cauthan across the table from her. She eagerly deployed her claws, the sharp points causing Alice to wonder if there might be a market for Cauthan nail files. “Well a salon would be more reliable I think. Even if you never become a household name or famous, you’ll still have a business and hopefully a steady client base. There are people who get their names on nail polish, shampoo, conditioner, and other products used in salons. They must be ridiculously rich, but I have no idea how they manage it. It’s probably just networking or connections. I’m the wrong girl to ask, to be blunt with you. I know how to do my own nails and stuff because my dad told me that if I wanted salon grade nails I could pay for them myself. I didn’t have much money as a teenager.”
“He sounds like a wise father,” Alyra nodded approvingly. “Is it so difficult to make clothing as a human? Do you make them all with those mystical forges that your brother has access to?”
“Some of the basics are made that way now, yes,” Alice replied, beginning her task and wondering if Natori would be cross if she put in an emergency request for a nail polish run during the middle of the festival. Cauthan had a lot more surface area in the nail department than humans. “And it’s worth noting that it’s still possible to run clothing shops and other sartorial establishments without ever being a world-famous fashion designer. Especially in our cities, very large settlements with hundreds of thousands or even millions of humans, you can find all sorts of specialty shops. I remember one time when we visited the major city in my home state my mother, sister, and I went to this shop that only made corsets and lingerie. It was really good stuff too. Being a fashion designer is a completely different matter, however. I honestly don’t know how to explain it too well, but it’s like being a celebrity. Everyone’s constantly looking at you, waiting for you to one up yourself. I assume it’s incredibly cutthroat and stressful, but those very few who make it to the top are wealthy beyond all reasonable expectations. It’s an all or nothing sort of thing. You could always work on it on the side while you do something more down to earth. Does that answer your question?”
“In more ways than one,” Alyra responded thoughtfully. Alice had already gotten done with one hand during the long explanation. “I will need to give this some thought in the event Antoth follows his heart and risks the wrath of his mate.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” Alice wondered, turning to face the priestess. She moved her feathers quickly in a negative expression.
“That is only for the two of us… for now. Ah good, the food is here. Do you enjoy spiced meats?”
Alice eyed the pastries with ill concealed hunger, her stomach growling in anticipation. “Is water wet?”
-----
“Winters, I didn’t see you there. Selah,” Antoth greeted the human properly, his arms across his chest as he watched over the activities in the sparring ring. Russell grinned and elbowed him in the upper arm.
“You want to chew them out, don’t you?” he guessed, easily reading the look on the former guard captain’s face. The pantherine Cauthan chuckled low in his belly.
“It’s not as bad as you make it out to be. There will always be an element of flair for the females on days like today, but yes. I would be lying if I said I didn’t. It is no longer my role, however, and I would not deign to step on Staroth’s toes,” he explained.
“Then just get in there and show them what’s what,” Russell suggested, remembering the prior year’s festival. “I think Xan learned quite a bit that way.”
Antoth hung his head. “That young male has lived long enough to learn a great deal, something he credits you for. I hope that one of the village’s females will be willing to look past his disability.”
The human exhaled slowly, watching parries and thrusts of swords as the crowd applauded politely and chatted while snacking on breakfast. “Even if he doesn’t, he seems to be getting along rather well with some of the female crew.”
“And would they give him cubs?” Antoth asked seriously.
“No,” Russell replied confidently. “Guess it’s a moot point. Humans can’t interbreed. Your females are just special. At least Veera is. Have you made a decision?”
“No. And it does not appear that any of the others will change their minds in such a short time,” Antoth reported quietly. “Where is your mate?”
“Veera? She and Asha are indulging their pregnant munchies from the sound of it. If you’re feeling the pressure, why not hop in the ring with some of them? Show them how to fight?” Russell urged. Antoth laughed ruefully.
“Winters, how many in this village do you think would strike at the priest of Seil?”
The human’s reply was to raise his brows and grin shrewdly at his friend. “I can think of at least one person. No guarantees that I’ll knock the answer into your head, but I promise a decent match.”
“Funny, Winters. Maybe you are still learning the finer points of our language but it sounded to me as though you believe you’ve already won,” the high priest declared slyly.
“Did I stutter?” the human asked, baring his teeth in anticipation. Antoth did the same.
“Our last sparring match was inconclusive. Do not think me an easy target just because of these accursed robes,” he warned. Russell pounded a fist into his palm.
“Well what are we waiting for? Let’s get this year’s betting rolls started then!”
Antoth growled approvingly and hailed Staroth, who was overseeing the ring while his underlings took their turn, similar to how Antoth had officiated the prior year’s match between Kaha and Winters. “Staroth! Clear your lads out would you? Let them chat up the females while Winters and I take our turn. There’s a score that needs settling.”
“You heard the man, cross scales and clear the arena,” the guard captain ordered, watching as the two combatants bumped forearms and departed deferentially. Russell didn’t feel bad for them at all, given the surplus of females in the village. They were already engaged in conversation by the time he walked to the far side of the sparring ring, feeling his blood pumping faster and the familiar, dear drip of adrenaline as he prepared himself for a fight. Antoth was no less excited, proudly divesting himself of his robes to reveal that he had worn a slim-fitting set of leather armor beneath the ceremonial garments. Both men shared a laugh with one another, a celebration of life’s small victories.
“Ratha’s going to have you by the stones for that one,” Russell taunted.
“You worry about yourself, Winters. Thinking about more than one female will have you on your ass in the dirt. Shall we?” Antoth suggested as more and more Cauthan crowded the ring, drawn magnetically to witness the great rematch. There were more humans in the audience that year as well, including Mendes and his squad.
Winters hailed Staroth, the presumptive officiant, with a friendly wave as he rolled his shoulders to limber up. “Ready when you are.”