Naia stirred from her sleep, her hair tousled in a way that coaxed a smile from Immanuel. He respectfully shifted to the side, giving her room to freshen up for the day ahead. She reached for her fruit, consumed a couple with a measured discipline that Immanuel found impressive—he ate one or two a day.
After a stretch that seemed to shake off the last remnants of sleep, Naia's gaze met his. "The landscape is shifting," she noted, "We're nearing the forest, it’s like really high grass." Her attempt at a comparison amused him. "Have you ever seen a forest? Immanuel couldn't help but chuckle. "If trees are like tall grass, then I suppose a skyscraper is just a big hut, isn't it?" He noticed a flash of something across her face—perhaps irritation—at his response, “uhm, sorry.” He added.
A companionable silence fell between them, neither seeming to mind. It was Naia who broke it, “What will you do in the city?”
“I mostly just want to get out of the wilderness. But, getting some training and information about this planet is definitely on my list.”
“Uhm, information about these lands.” He corrected.
Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he broached a subject that had been on his mind. "What's the purpose of the tail?" he asked. "You don’t use it for balance? And you always hide it away.”
Naia hesitated, searching for the right words. "Well," she began, looking away, "your tail... it's something you can’t show others, or just everyone, only when." She spoke softly, her eyes averted, "You display your tail, the movement, when around those of lesser strength, like I did with the hunters, but not to those stronger or the elders."
"So, you're stronger than the hunters?"
"Stronger, yes," Naia replied confidently. "More would fight for me, certainly. And as a herbalist." There was a hint of pride in her tone. "Also," she continued, with a slight lift of her chin, "the colour of my hair signifies that I am a descendant of the revered Auris"
Immanuel nodded. "Ah," he remarked, a light of comprehension in his eyes, "so strength isn't just about the ability to land a punch."
"Could you take the rudder for a moment?" Immanuel asked.
Without hesitation, Naia rose to her feet, and they smoothly exchanged positions, maintaining the rhythm of their journey. They continued to navigate closely along the river's right edge.
Immanuel took his staff and clutched it tightly, and as he channeled his energy into it, the wood began to crackle with incandescent golden sparks. Naia, witnessing the spectacle, couldn't contain her amazement. "I thought I saw that!" she exclaimed.
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"Yes," Immanuel responded with a sense of wonder in his voice. "I didn't realise it could do this." He closed his eyes, immersing himself in the experience, feeling for the connection that bridged his inner strength with the staff in his grasp.
As he focused, the world around him faded away, leaving only the flow of energy that thrummed between his hands and the stick. It was as if a circuit had been completed, and he felt the surge of power coating his hands, visible even with his eyes still closed.
Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of his right hand, enveloped in dancing golden light. He attempted to extend the energy further out, but the effort required grew exponentially, and he could feel his mental reserves draining away rapidly.
He released the effort with a heavy breath, feeling mentally depleted but awed by the discovery.
"Do you need me to steer the boat for a bit?" Immanuel asked, a hint of fatigue in his voice.
Naia shook her head, her smile unwavering. "No need," she answered confidently.
And with the wind as their subtle companion, it gently propelled them further along the meandering path of the river.
---
Immanuel was thinking about a brief rest when a cacophony of wild sounds erupted from upriver. Instinctively, he and Naia stiffened, preparing for whatever lay ahead. As they navigated the bend, they came upon a scene of struggle: a wolverine-like creature, its thick green fur matted with the river's grime, was embroiled in a desperate fight for survival against a school of aggressive fish and an octopus-like creature that had ensnared its snout with tentacles.
"Quick, Immanuel," Naia instructed urgently, "take the rudder." She sprang into action, seizing her bow and arrow. Immanuel took control of the boat, steering it closer to the fray.
With precision, Naia released an arrow, striking one of the larger fish that was tearing flesh from the beleaguered animal. Leaning over the edge of the boat to retrieve her arrow, she missed her grasp.
Feeling the urgency of the moment, Immanuel drew upon his reserves, channeling his energy to slow the world around him. He extended his stick, hooking the wounded fish, and Naia rushed over to assist. Together, they hauled the catch into the boat, the contact fleeting yet intimate; Immanuel couldn't help but notice her tail brushing against him, her presence as grounding as the scent as grounding as the scent of the forest after rain.
Naia stood, triumphantly placing the fish into a basket. "Good!" she declared with a victorious air. "Let's eat!"
With deft fingers and razor-sharp nails, Naia expertly cleaned and cut the fish. Immanuel flinched as she nonchalantly popped an eyeball into her mouth, offering him the remaining one. "No thank you," he declined, slightly queasy at the thought. Undeterred, she swallowed the second eye and proceeded to slice tender strips from the fish's reddish meat, handing him a generous piece. "This is the best part," she assured.
Immanuel tentatively tasted the raw flesh. To his relief, it was surprisingly good, not unlike the tuna of Earth, with a familiar texture that eased his initial apprehension. Naia, enjoying the small tentacles on its back as well, seemed in her element, while Immanuel respectfully passed on trying those.
With their meal concluded and their appetites sated, Naia deposited the remaining fish carcass on the opposite side of the boat. After scooping up river water to rinse her hands and quench her thirst—a gesture Immanuel mirrored—she sat back down. "Now we also have excellent bait," she stated, a hint of excitement in her voice. "We throw in the scraps and shoot another fish!"