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lunaracarberry · 4 years

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Rona’s Journey

Rona Ni'ess woke with the dawn to a glorious summer morning. Her comfortable, somewhat burrow-like bedroom was lit up a pair of sun-chimneys reflecting light from the roof of her family's rof'orth. The building was one of the hillside house-compounds the Bilobi tribe commonly built as their dwellings, an elaborate but sturdy structure that housed the two dozen members of her family. Rona's room, as all the unattached young adults in the family, was carved deep into the hillside where it was cool in the summer and warm in the winter. The sun-chimneys allowed both light and air into the chamber, with screens to keep out the pests. It was a safe and cozy space. Rona was a young woman of average height for her tribe, with a slim and athletic body. Her skin was a pale brown, albeit seasonally darkened, and her hair was long, black and thick. She was naturally quite pretty, her quick smile and strikingly grey eyes complementing her toned, but still very female, form. Rona yawned and stretched, and dressed herself. Short leather breeches and a light hempen crop-top were suitable for the weather, as it was going to be quite warm quite soon. Early summer was generally a warm and humid time in the rugged region that the rest of the world knew as the Solbanian Hills. Rona ventured out to the bathroom first. The Bilobi, like many of the Solbanian tribes, had incorporated a limited amount of the "civilized" technologies, one of those being the blessing of running water in their dwellings. Other concepts such as glow-lights had not been embraced, the tribes choosing to use their metal resources to forge mainly weapons and tools. The Bilobi were a practical and resourceful people, and being in a state of perpetual near-war forced them to focus on defense and armament above all else. Out in the community area, various members of the family were already digging into a breakfast of jura, hearty cooked grains, the smell of sweet spices filling the room. Rona procured a cup of strong tea and a dish of the jura; her mother Nona, working in the kitchen, gave her a wink and a smile in passing. The matrons of the family took very good care of their flock, and were treasured for it; but Rona already knew that such a domestic life was not for her. Finishing her modest breakfast, Rona left the dishes for the younglings to wash and ascended the stairs to the top balcony. A couple of the elders were basking in the morning sun there. One was her great-aunt, Mida, and her life-partner Yari sat beside her holding her hand. Rona greeted them respectfully. "Bright morning, sh'wenga." Mida was an aged woman, but by no means infirm. Short of stature, she was still physically solid and her hair had not yet turned completely white. Rona was one of her favorite young people, and she smiled and held her hand out. "How is our little scout today? What are you up to, going out to steal some hearts, perhaps?" Rona blushed a little at that. Mida was always teasing her about how pretty she was, and how easily she would be able to sneak around and steal the boys' hearts away. "No, sh'wenga, I've no time for such prey today. I have some fishing to do." "Fishing?!" Yari chimed in. The tiny woman was still beautiful despite her hair being completely whitened by time. "Well, don't forget your elders, if you catch a fine trout!" Rona chuckled. "Of course not! I know how much you like a good fried trout. Is this clear sky going to hold up today, then?" Yari nodded, eyes flicking toward the horizon. "Nothing but sunshine today, dear. A fine day for fishing, and swimming." "Thank you, sh'wenga. I will seek out a suitable place for such ventures." Rona touched the elders' hands with her fingertips and went downstairs for her equipment. She filled her light pack with her fishing gear and a water flask, strapped on her weapon belt and her trusty tomahawk, and put on a sun hat to round out her ensemble. At the house entryway, her uncle Darib was on guard, casually sharpening a knife. He grinned at her cheerily and she gave him a quick hug. A veteran warrior, Darib had been one of her teachers in the skills of weapons. "Enjoy your day off, halita," Darib said as she sauntered out the door. Rona waved and set out down the path, humming a tune to herself. The songs of birds added counterpoint to her own as she walked, down the path to the main road and southward. Soon she reached the bridge that crossed over the Callahee RIver, although it was more of a stream here close to the headwaters. Up and over the next ridge the carefully paved path led, into the next valley where her friend Dugi lived. It was not a long distance, just enough to stretch her legs. She descended into a broad valley, where her friend's farm was built into the western hillside; one of many such structures lining the sides of the valley. The farm itself was a series of well-built terraces, spreading from the house at the top all the way down to the stream at the bottom of the valley. The path ran by the banks of the stream, and a ramp led up to the farmhouse at a gentle incline. Rona ascended the ramp, spotting Dugi on one of the upper terraces, working the plants. She called out a greeting. "Ho, Dugi!" Dugi was a mountain of a man already, even though he was barely a month older than Rona. His wide mouth split his bearded face with a smile when he saw her. "Ho, Rona!" She made her way along the terrace walkway to where he was, surrounded by young squash plants. "Whatcha up to today? I have the day off, want to go fishing?" "Oh, now, that is a tempting thought indeed," Dugi chuckled. "I need to finish clearing out these weeds before I can go, though." Rona eyed the patch of plants he was working. "Doesn't seem like too much of a chore. How about I give you a hand and we can go all that much sooner?" "That would be great!" The big man smiled again. He was very easy-going and good-natured, and had been friends with Rona for most of their young lives. With no further ado, Rona set aside her pack and joined in the work. The fertile earth yielded the weeds easily, but the patch was large. Dugi worked this farm alone most of the time, as his parents had passed away a few years before. Despite his youth, Dugi was the sole proprietor of the farm and had already earned his full ranking of kagori, "plant-tender", an honored position in the tribe. Among the Bilobi, a farmer was treated with the same respect as a warrior or a craftsman. Before long, the patch was cleared of invasive plants and they were ready to go. They went up to the farmhouse for a cup of cool mint tea and set off for the fishing hole. Further up the valley, the paved trail gave way to a well-trodden path that led up onto a ridge before dropping back down into a wild, lush stretch of forest where the stream was slow and formed several large pools among ridges of black rock and large, ancient tree roots. They spent the bulk of the morning there, enjoying the simple leisure of setting the lines, lounging in the soft summer grass, and trying to lure the wily fish out from under the banks with various lures and tactics. When the heat became oppressive, they splashed around in the cool water and dried out in the sun. It was not a hugely successful venture, as they only actually landed a couple of fish worth keeping. Finally, hunger drove them to pack up their fishing rods and head back to the farmhouse to cook them properly. The path over the ridge was lined with boulders and gnarled bushes sporting brilliant purple flowers. Distracted and relaxed, Rona and Dugi were both startled at the appearance of two people on the trail ahead, rounding a bend along the highest point; they nearly collided with the two, who were going the other way. Inri and Waro were a pair of boys who were not among Rona's favorite people. A couple of years older than her, they had been pests and teases to many of the girls, in the callous way of boys. They were both trained warriors now, and strutted like a pair of roosters, in Rona's opinion. Inri had actually made sexual overtures to her only a couple of weeks before, but she had turned him down flat at his arrogant and entitled approach; leaving him red-faced in the road in front of several of his older compatriots, who had been quite amused at the turn of events. "Well, well, well," Inri said, immediately reacting to the appearance of the two friends. "Look what we have here, a sneak and a dirt-stirrer," he sneered. Waro laughed, but his eyes were hard, calculating. Rona's eyes narrowed at the tone. "At least we do something useful, muscle-head," she retorted. Inri barked a humorless laugh. "Useful? Oh, you're going to see trouble coming, scout? Then run back and hide behind the warriors? Hardly useful." He spat. "I can think of a good use for you, girl." Waro laughed again, coarsely. Dugi growled at that, his large hand clenching around his walking staff. "You're barking up the wrong tree, lashka," he said. Inri took a half step back, hand creeping up toward the hilt of his sword. "Oh, you're going to claim her for yourself, dirt-stirrer? I knew she had bad taste." "Nobody's -claiming- me, meathead," Rona replied angrily. "I'm a free woman and I'll do what I want!" Inri eyed her up and down and grinned lewdly. "Well, you should want to use that body of yours to make a warrior happy. We're your protectors, after all. Come on, just a tumble in the grass with me will show you the error of your ways." "Hmmph. In your dreams! Why don't you just go play with yourself? Don't get caught this time." Rona gave him a sneer of her own. All of them knew about how the boy had been caught spying on the women's bathing pool the previous summer, and been soundly switched by the matrons all the way back to his family's home. Inri's face contorted and grew red with anger. "You little... I think it's time you learned some respect, bitch." He drew his sword. Rona had her tomahawk out in a flash, adrenaline surging as she shifted into a combat stance. "Honorless cur!" she spat angrily. "You have NO right!" Waro drew his own sword, glancing sidewise at his partner. "Subdue her," Inri ordered. "I'll take this fool dirt-stirrer apart!" He whirled his sword confidently and advanced on Dugi. "Don't hurt her too much," he sneered disparagingly. In a heartbeat Rona and her friend were fighting for their lives. Time slowed to a seeming crawl as the two warriors moved in confidently, their superior weapons flashing in the sunlight. Inri came in slashing at the farmer, who backed slowly, trying to fend off the blade with his stout staff. Waro circled to come at Rona from her right side, sword-point moving in an infinity pattern, then stabbing at her in a series of quick thrusts. Rona used her agility and speed to dodge away, spinning and trying to get a slash in with her shorter weapon, only to be forced back by the warrior's quick defense. Inri pressed his attack, feinted high, then lunged forward and stabbed Dugi in the thigh when his staff was raised too high to deflect the blade. The farmer grunted in pain, swinging hard even as the warrior spun away, blade flicking a stream of red droplets across the rocks. It was all Rona could do to evade Waro's calculated attacks; she could spare hardly a glance to her ally's plight. Waro was careful to keep his guard up even as he probed at her own defenses. Dugi staggered momentarily, but kept his feet, roared with anger, and charged at Inri, his staff a whirling blur. Suddenly the warrior was the one on the defensive, backing up quickly from the long-armed farmer, deflecting the staff mere inches from his face. Inri tried to come in under the arc, but Dugi swung the staff lower, forcing the warrior to block again. Wood chips flew from the force of the impact. Dugi kept the momentum of the swing, however, sliding his hands further down the staff for extra reach as he put his substantial strength and mass into the strike. Inri's attempt to back away and parry the blow were too little, too late, as the farmer's staff connected with the side of his head with a heavy thud. The warrrior crumpled soundlessly to the ground. Waro, meanwhile, continued his attacks, finally catching Rona on her non-weapon arm with a slash. She cursed and dodged away. He pursued relentlessly. Then Dugi rushed at Waro from the side, thrusting the staff like a spear at the warrior's ribcage and forcing him to turn and defend himself. Rona immediately attacked , blood running down her arm as she swung her tomahawk. Waro parried her swing as he moved, trying to keep either of his opponents from flanking him. They faced off momentarily, the warrior's eyes narrow and cold; the two friends bleeding, enraged. Waro's gaze flickered toward his fallen comrade, but there was no emotion on his face as he moved into an aggressive sword-form, blade weaving intricate patterns as he attacked them. Even outnumbered, Waro was a deadly, well-trained opponent, and for some time there was a desparate dance to keep his sword out of their bodies. For a few long minutes, heavy breaths, guttural growls of effort, shuffling boots on gravel, and occasional clash of steel on steel were the only sounds to be heard. Finally Rona was able to slide inside the warrior's guard and get a solid chop into Waro's abdomen, rolled away from his counterattack, and bounced back to her feet. There was no pause as the warrior cursed and and lunged after her murderously. She weaved away from the blade like a phantom, the edge cutting only air time and time again. Dugi followed as best he could, swinging the staff until he finally caught the warrior's leg, sending Waro staggering and off balance. Without hesitation, Rona pounced, kicking the warrior's sword arm aside, and at the same time swinging her razor-sharp tomahawk in a vicious downward chop into the side of Waro's neck. She leapt away from his backhand slash, and he staggered back several paces, eyes widening as he clamped his off-hand to the wound. Blood spurted through his fingers, spraying across the trail in a dramatic fountain for a few heartbeats before he fell; sword slipping from his nerveless fingers, he twitched, bled, and died. Panting and wild-eyed, Rona and Dugi stood transfixed for a minute, gazing down on the bodies of the vanquished. Finally Dugi staggered over to Inri and stooped to look closer. "He lives." He glanced over to Waro's body and looked away. "We're gonna have to summon the Council." "Yeah." Rona regained her breath quickly, and her wits, although drenched in sweat. "Oh, my Goddess, you're hurt!" Dugi leaned against a rock, blood seeping down his leg and coloring the dust beneath him. "You are too. It's not that bad. Just need to wrap it with something for now." Rona quickly bound the wound with one of her bandanas, and Dugi returned the favor on the shallow slash on her arm, which was also bleeding profusely. Then she helped him to his feet and they continued their journey home, the farmer leaning heavily on his staff. As they descended the path into the valley, the import of what had just occurred began to sink in. They walked in silence, deep in thought as the shock of the violent encounter began to wear off. Even the birds had grown silent in the oppressive midday heat. They climbed the ramp up to the farmhouse, entered, and shed their burdens. Dugi sank gratefully into a cushioned chair, grimacing as he raised his leg onto a footstool. "Damn, that stings." "I'll go ask the neighbors to summon the j'sarka and the eshtale," Rona said. She took a moment to wipe her face with a dampened cloth, then hurried over to the next household to ask their assistance. The tribe's shaman and spiritual guide, j'sarka Miasa, was always available for the people in her community, or one of her trusted acolytes. It was she who arrived first. Rona was waiting at the door, too anxious to stay seated for long, even after the adrenaline of battle had worn off. Miasa took one look at Rona's face and folded the girl into a giant hug. "Oh, Goddess, you poor dear!" At that, Rona burst into tears. Miasa held her close, stroking her hair and soothing her while she wept. After a few moments, Rona composed herself and Miasa took a look at their wounds. She clucked her tongue at the damage, but did not comment. She invoked the Goddess and cast healing magic on them both, erasing the physical damage of the fight as if it never had been. Soon afterward, the eshtale ascended the path to the farmhouse. The eshtale was the designated peacekeeper of the day, a duty which rotated among all the senior warriors of the tribe. Today's eshtale was Oriv, and he had brought one of the junior warriors with him to bear messages. Oriv bore the ceremonial rod of the office, an ornately carved hardwood stick with a bright blue gemstone imbedded in one end where the Osinagi tree had grown around it. It was widely thought that the rod gave the eshtale the ability to detect lies. "What crime has been committed?" Oriv intoned formally. Rona answered just as formally. "I have killed a member of my tribe, eshtale." Oriv's face grew grave, and the junior warrior gasped, eyes growing wide. "Where did this happen?" Oriv asked. Rona told him, and the junior warrior was sent running to get more help. Oriv separated the two friends and asked them what had happened, first Rona, and then Dugi. Miasa bore witness to the inquiries. By the time they were done telling their stories, a squad of warriors had arrived to assist the eshtale in fetching the fallen. "The council will hear the testimony, and send for you when they've made their decision," Oriv announced, and away they went. Miasa went with them, after giving the farmer a hug and a word of praise for his courage and honor, and a motherly kiss on the forehead for Rona. "It's going to be okay, honey. One way or another. Come see me when the ruling is made, and we will ask the spirits to give you guidance." They spent the afternoon mostly in quiet reflection. Rona cleaned and grilled the fish they had caught, and Dugi made wondrous herbal salad, and they feasted. Afterward, they laid down in the cool depths of the farmhouse and rested, although neither was able to fall asleep. Just before sunset, a messenger boy arrived to summon them before the Council.

The Council was composed of nine heads-of-households, six women and three men. Rona's father Jorjio was one of the men, and when Rona and Dugi entered the ceremonial Council chamber, his was the first face she sought. Impassive at first, when their eyes met, the warrior gave her the slightest of smiles before returning his expression to neutrality. Miasa was there, of course, and the eshtale announced their entrance, as per custom, as they took their place upon the central pedestal. "Rona of clan Ni'ess, stands on the charge of causing the death of a tribe member. Dugi of clan Ketall, stands on the charge of assault upon a tribe member." Olika, the eldest of the Council, stood and addressed them directly. A strikingly beautiful woman despite a half-century of life, she met their gazes levelly as she pronounced the judgement of the Council. "We have heard the testimony from the eshtale, and the verification of the witness to the testimony. This is a sad day for the Bilobi in many ways." "One family has lost a son, and another has brought shame upon himself. As you are entitled to defend yourselves, Dugi of clan Ketall, you are absolved of wrongdoing." Olika turned her eyes to Rona. "You are entitled to self-defense as well, Rona of clan Ni'ess. However, there is now a blood debt to be paid to the family of the man you killed today." Rona lowered her eyes in acceptance of the judgement. All the tribe's children were emphatically and thoroughly taught the rules and laws that they were expected to live by, so it was no surprise. Neither were the councilwoman's next words. "To pay this blood debt, Rona of clan Ni'ess, you are hereby banished from the lands of the Bilobi for a year and a day, beginning in two days at sunset. Make sure you are beyond our borders at that time." She sat down. The eshtale turned to the pair and waved the rod. "Do you accept this judgement?" He asked. "Yes, eshtale, they said, almost in unison. Oriv tapped the ceremonial gong with the rod of office. The rich sound vibrated through the room, and it was over.

They exited, and after a few moments, Jiorji caught up with them outside the chamber. He gave his daughter a quick hug and motioned for them to follow him back to the Ni'ess rof'orth. In the darkening twilight hour, people were going back and forth at various tasks and errands, the lamplighters sparking up intermittent candles along the pathways. It was a pleasant summer evening, and the sounds of music, laughter, and banter echoed from the various households they passed. Several young people hurried by, on their way to an evening training session in the Weapons yard, saluting the Council member politely. They reached the house, and came inside to a warm welcome. Rona could immediately smell her mother's signature cheese-covered flatbread baking, Rona's most favorite food. Her mouth immediately began to water even as her eyes started to fill with tears. Her mother and aunts gathered around her in a warm enveloping of sympathy. Jorjio turned and clasped Dugi's hand in the traditional warrior manner. "Thank you, kagori. You are a fine and honorable man, to defend my daughter's life and freedom as you did. Words cannot say enough how grateful we are for your courage and strength!" Darib, the councilman's brother-by-marriage, stepped forward and offer the farmer a hand-clasp as well, then handed him an ornate weapon. It was a war spear of great quality, with a long metal-shod haft and a foot-and-a-half-long double-edged blade of a peculiar silvery hue. Rona noticed the transaction and involuntarily gasped. The spear was one of the family's greatest treasures, and had been a family heirloom for many generations. "Take this gift, friend, and know that you can count on us if you are ever in need of help. May it serve you and your descendants well, should you ever find your life threatened again." Dugi turned the spear over in his hands, eyes wide with awe. "Thank you..." he looked around the room at the gathered family, and bowed somewhat awkwardly. "Thank you, all of you. I will treasure this weapon." Everybody wanted to hear the story, so they told it together as best they could. The children ooh'ed and aah'ed at the description of the fight, especially Rona's little sister, Nuni. A girl of only seven, she felt inspired enough to demonstrate some kicks and punches at an imaginary foe while they told about the battle, which made everyone chuckle. There was a general consensus among the family that the blood spilled was justified, and the ruling of exile was somewhat unfair, but the law was the law. The rules were in place to prevent the tribe from internal conflicts and power struggles, and a millenium-long tradition of sustained self-government gave the free people of the Bilobi great respect and trust in those rules. Rona would be exiled for a year and a day, and her family would send her off as prepared and educated as they could possibly make her. Dinner was served and the family ate with gusto. The family was a whirlwind of caring and compassion around Rona, and she savored it while she could. After the delicious meal, various musical instruments were produced, and the family sang some songs together. Rona's father brought out a bottle of fine spirits and poured a round of drinks for anyone that wanted one. The first glass, however, he handed to his daughter. When they were all distributed, he raised his hand for a moment of silence. "A salute, dear ones, for my brave daughter Rona. She has proved her commitment to freedom today! And whatever the laws say, she will never be outcast from MY heart." With that, he lifted his glass and they all shouted "Hai-ai!" together and drank. The fiery liquor quite took Rona's breath away for a moment. Someone started a drumbeat, and the family launched into a traditional tribal song celebrating those who had fallen in the cause of freedom. After a few more songs, some individual dances, and another round of drinks, and some luscious berry-cake dessert, the family began seeking their bedrooms, and Rona was no exception. The drinks had made her a bit dizzy; but when she lay down, she quickly drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were troubled. She woke several times during the night from dreams of fighting, killing, and being hunted. Finally she drifted off for a final time and slept peacefully, the whispered voices of a prayer echoing through the quiet house, or her dreams, or both.

It was mid-morning when Rona awoke to the smell of tea. She opened her eyes to see her little sister holding a cup next to her bed. Nuni smiled, "Mama said you needed this." "Ha! She is right, as usual," Rona sat up and accepted the cup, drinking deeply. "I slept in, it seems." After some breakfast and some conversation, Rona put on her sun hat and headed up the valley to the sacred grove to see the j'sarka. Nestled into an elevated box canyon on the west side of the valley, the grove of OsinagiI trees was a place of almost unearthly beauty. The stairs leading up to it were artistically carved from the solid rock, as was the temple itself, in the south wall of the box canyon. Miasa herself came out to greet her on the wide patio in front of the temple. This ceremonial area was paved intricately in a geometrical design, worn smooth by dozens of decades of dancing. It was a familiar and special place to most of the residents of the community. Rona had danced in the moonlight many times here. Miasa welcomed her into the temple and led her back to the inner sanctum. It was cool and comfortable inside the solid stone. The priestess directed Rona to the purification bath, where a great tub carved directly into the stone stood steaming and ready. Miasa left her there to cleanse herself and change into one of the soft white robes that hung ready by the door. From there, Rona entered the prayer room and knelt before the altar, a supplicant. Miasa emerged from a room behind the altar, clad in a ceremonial ensemble of silver jewelry, including an ornate tiara, and a wispy white robe that barely concealed her lithe brown body. She paused by the altar and rang a silver chime. Its pure tone filled the silence. She knelt before Rona and offered her a small cup. "Let us pray, and ask the Goddess to give you visions." Rona took the cup carefully, raised it in salute to the altar, and drank. The liquid was sweetened with honey, but even that could only partially mask the bitterness of the karana root tea. She finished it dutifully and handed the cup back to Miasa, who rose and returned to the room from which she had come. After a moment the priestess returned, and gestured for Rona to move to one of the prayer mats she had already laid out on the shiny grey-green-tiled floor. They spent the next half-hour moving through the ritualistic stretches and poses of the Centering exercises. Rona began to feel queasy and sat back, trying to concentrate on her breathing. "I feel faint," she said. She was having a hard time focusing. "Lay down," Miasa said. Rona did so, and the priestess knelt beside her, passing her hands over the girl. "Hmm..." She then whispered a prayer and gently cradled Rona's head in her warm hands. The heat from Miasa's hands seemed to infuse Rona from her head, rippling through her until her entire body felt warm and glowing. The nausea and ill feeling swept away, replaced by a deep sense of comfort and well-being. She closed her eyes and slipped into a trance. The steady light of the lanterns in the prayer room faded away to a faint glow, and then somehow she opened her eyes and was gazing up at the midday sky. The sun was bright, but she felt fearlessly compelled to look straight at it, and its light seemed illuminating instead of blinding. She gasped at the unexpected beauty. Then rainbows radiated from the orb, bending and curving into complex patterns. A flicker of movement distracted her, and she moved her perception to another patch of sky. A barely-discernable shape was flying there; but when she concentrated, she could see clearly a sinuous winged creature. She recognized immediately a Sriwi'ani, a dragon of the Air, and felt a little thrill of joy at seeing one for the first time in her life. She watched the dragon as it glided in a slow figure-eight, then descended to a craggy ridge of stone. Her perception moved toward the ridge, approached the cliff, and then tilted upward as if she were flying herself. Then she was on top of the ridge, and the rays of the setting sun were painting the sky in colorful hues. Beyond the ridge was another higher ridge, and as she ascended, winged people launched from cliffs above and floated dreamily around her. Atop the cliff she came upon a beautiful little meadow, full of tiny yellow flowers. She lay her presence down there and looked up to the darkening sky. Stars grew brighter as the sun's light faded. Flickering light drew her attention. Beyond the mountains to the east, she could make out a massive storm cloud, dark and menacing, lit by lightning within and around it. An undercurrent of foreboding touched her at the sight. The storm seemed unnatural and out of place for some reason. From somewhere nearby she heard someone giggle merrily, then a sweet and melodic voice began singing, in words that she could not understand, but seemed familiar somehow. Rona had the impression of a silhouette of a woman sitting on a rock nearby, moonlight shining behind her. The sky, the mountain, the plants, all began to glow, and the stars were connected by rainbows. As a complex pattern began to be seen, light filled her vision completely, and she heard the sound of a silver chime. She opened her eyes and was back in her body, lying safe on the prayer room floor. Miasa approached her and knelt beside the prayer mat. "How do you feel?" "Good," Rona replied, sitting up. "What did you see?" The priestess handed her a cup of water, which Rona drained. Rona described her vision as best she could. Miasa listened carefully, nodding and smiling at the girl's words. "Truly a blessed vision. The omens are showing you a path. I think you should go and stay with the Sky People. They will welcome you and it will be a safe place to live during your exile." The priestess frowned a little in thought. "The storm... I do not know what that means. I'm sure it signifies something important, but that is not an immediate concern. It seems to be something that you will be involved with somehow. You will discover its meaning, with time." Rona nodded slowly, the vision still strong in her mind's eye. "Thank you, Miasa. I will prepare for my journey."

On the stairs down from the sacred grove, Rona saw a pair of women ascending. Rona knew them both; Chira and Usia were the mother and aunt of Inri, and Rona paused when she recognized them, unsure of their reaction. They saw her and continued up the stairs to her position. Chira was a tall, strong woman with long mahogany-colored hair flowing from under her black sun hat. She wore black clothing and her face was grave as she ascended the last few stairs to where Rona was standing. "Well met, Rona of clan Ni'ess." "Matron," Rona replied warily, nodding in return. Chira gazed at Rona for a moment, studying the girl's face. "I am sorry for the shame my son has brought upon our house, young one." She paused and looked at her sister beside her. Usia reached out and squeezed her hand in encouragement. "This is not the way a warrior is supposed to behave. We did not teach him this... disrespect." Chira raised her gaze and met Rona's eyes. "I fear that my son has been listening to some tainted follower of the cursed path of Azhilo." She spat to the side at the name as if she had tasted something foul. "My son has been sent to the northern border to spend time at an outpost, where hopefully he will learn some humility and appreciation for his life." She paused, looking down again. " I will not speak his name until your exile is over. Because of his arrogance, his friend is dead, and he will need many years before he regains his honor in my eyes." Rona let out a quiet sigh of relief. "Your words lighten my spirit, Matron." Chira took the last two steps up to the girl and embraced her. "Be well, young one, and I wish you a safe and pleasant journey, wherever you end up going." "Thank you," Rona whispered, returning the hug. "May the Goddess smile upon you and your family."

Back at the Ni'ess rof'orth, Rona spent the rest of the day assembling her equipment and packing her possessions for storage. One of the younger ones would take her bedroom. There was a sense of finality to the process that Rona could not shake. The future was always murky, but it was clear that this was the ending of her childhood and the beginning of something entirely different. It made her somewhat sad, but also determined to face the changes with her head held high. The prospect of travelling beyond her tribe's lands to the mountainous hold of the M'Chal was exciting and scary at the same time. When the tasks were done, there was a last evening with her family, filled with laughter and joy, and a few tears as well. One last night in her home, lying awake for much of it. Rona managed a few hours of sleep before dawn. Her little sister awoke her again, and it was time for her journey to begin.

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It was another beautiful summer day, albeit with a heaviness to the air that promised rain in the afternoon. Rona set off at a good pace, for she had some distance to cover to make it to the edge of her tribe's lands. Up over the first ridge she went, following the same path she had taken to the swimming hole two days before. At the site of the battle, a familiar figure stood, lit by the first rays of the sun. "Hail, Rona," Dugi called. "I thought you'd be passing this way." She jogged up and embraced him, her pack and weapons making it somewhat awkward. He held the heirloom spear in one hand as he enfolded her in his massive grip. They stood that way for a long moment. Finally Dugi released his grip. "You had better go. Luck be with you, my sweet friend. You'll be brave. You always are." Rona smiled, even though tears were welling in her eyes. "Be well, my friend, until we meet again." She trotted away. Up the valley she went, past the swimming hole, over a bridge and up the larger ridge to the east. From there the trail led south again, along the top of the ridge. She passed a couple of guardposts before the trail descended again, cutting slightly east to proceed along a craggy slope leading down the the river valley far below. Rona stayed alert by habit, even though there was little danger to be found in this well-watched area of her tribe's lands. The view from the trail was magnificent. The wide forested valley to the east was frequented by Bilobi hunters and berry-gathering parties. The tribe claimed the land all the way to the river. To the southeast rose the magnificent stony ridge of the Blackspur Ridge. A sheer granite cliff in many places, the ridge rose a dizzying thousand-and-a-half feet above the forest slopes beneath, only to be crowned by a second, smaller ridgeline of streaked black rock, that rose nearly as high again. Wisps of clouds drifted about the taller, spikier peaks. There was Rona's goal; the home of the M'Chal. Around mid-day she stopped and feasted on some of the cheese bread her mother had wrapped for her. Clouds were starting to form above her, so she took advantage of the intermittent shade and made as much progress as she could before the rain began. As the first drops fell, she stopped and took off her equipment. She rolled out her rain cloak and attached it to her backpack, also wrapping it around her bow and quiver. She put her equipment back on, the cleverly designed cloak hooding her face and wrapping around to buckle in the front, easily released if one needed to shed it quickly. The waterproof oiled hide was light but durable, and the cloak was designed to double as a makeshift tent as well. She continued as the summer storm drenched the thirsty land around her. The trail was neatly paved here, so mud was not a problem, and she stayed dry and comfortable under the cloak. By mid-afternoon she was approaching the southeast border outpost. A squat stone tower stood on a narrow ridge, the trail running to the mouth of a tunnel which had been carved through the ridge underneath it. The massive doors were open, and as Rona approached, a guard stepped out from the shade to greet her. "Hail, askuri," he said, using the formal title of a blooded scout of the Bilobi. "I am Olfor. We've been expecting you." "Well met, Olfor," she replied, touching her palm to his in the traditional greeting. "Your uncle sent word that you would be passing this way. Come, set down your things and have a drink. I'll fetch the shiragi, he will want to speak to you." He directed her into a side room where there was a couple of benches, and a table that held a pitcher of fruit-sweetened water and several glasses. The drink was blessedly chill compared to the warm water in Rona's waterskin. The shiragi, leader of the oupost, was an older warrior called Gyrag, known to Rona as a friend of her father and uncle. He entered the room and gave Olfor a nod. The other warrior leaned on the wall outside the door casually keeping watch. "Hail, Rona. Darib informed me that you're heading up the Blackspur." Gyrag spread out a map on the table. "Now I'm sure you've studied some maps already, but I'll just point a couple of things out to you. Once you exit the gates on the east side of this outpost, you are officially outside of our tribe's lands. I recommend finding somewhere to camp tonight in this area above the springs." He pointed to where the springs were marked, then indicated the trail to the base of the cliff. "That way you can start up the trade-trail in the morning. It's the safest way up to the top of the lower cliff, and the M'chal patrol it frequently." He pointed to where the trail began its ascent, skirting a fair-sized lake at the base of a deep ravine. "The trail is narrow along the lakeside, so you will want to be especially wary there. It's a good place for an ambush. Further up the chasm, there are many stretches of trail that are exposed to view from above and below, but there are places for a tricky askuri like yourself to elude any problems there. " "Once you reach the top of the lower cliff, the High Forest will be a more open terrain. The Sky People will keep close watch on this area. You're likely to see some of them flying around on their false-wings." Gyrag pointed to a cleft in the upper cliff. "Here there is the main trail up to the M'Chal lands. Once you are in that rift, you will likely be under constant observation by M'Chal lookouts and under their protection there, as well." The warrior turned his eyes to meet Rona's. "There are always Z'Krol raiding parties lurking around the base of the Blackspur. They are, as always, the greatest threat. Especially to a lone female. You would be a prize indeed, young one, so take great care." Rona nodded somberly. "I will, shiragi," she promised. "I know you have been trained well, askuri. Be as a ghost. And whatever happens..." Gyrag put a hand on her shoulder, voice grave, "DON'T let them take you alive if they find you."

Rona set out from the east gate at a trot, feeling refreshed. The air was cooler from the rain and a light breeze across the top of the hills made the journey pleasant. Rona followed the trade trail for a half mile or so before leaving the trail on the north, downslope side. She followed game trails, picking her way carefully eastward as the afternoon wore on. It was slow travel, as she took pains to walk over rock and gravel where she could, to conceal her trail. Nonetheless, she reached the vale where the springs flowed a good hour before sunset. She found a promising niche between a couple of large boulders and set up her bedroll there. She took her weapons down to a pool and quickly bathed, reveling in immersing her body in the cool, fresh water. She refilled her waterskin, and as twilight gathered, ate the last of the bread with some dried fish and some wild grapes she found nearby. After her eyes adjusted to the starlight, Rona took a final scouting trip in a rough circle around her campsite, moving quietly from one vantage point to another, waiting and watching for a bit, then moving on again. The area was full of the early nocturnal activity of numerous animals, but nothing threatening. She returned to her spot, and used a leafy branch to brush her tracks from the sand as she backed into her niche and used the branch to further conceal her hiding place. Then she snuggled up in her blanket and drifted quickly into sleep, spurred by both her exertions of the day and her deprivation of the night before. Rona awoke in the night, an indeterminable amount of time later. She lay, breathing quietly, listening; she was unsure what had woke her. After a moment, an insect began chirping nearby. She turned over quietly and watched the clearing beyond her leafy camoflauge. The hair rose on her neck as she saw a shadow moving through the trees stealthily. In a patch of stronger starlight, she made out a human figure, a large one, moving extremely quietly across the uneven ground. She carefully unsheathed her tomahawk as she continued to watch. The shadow paused a few yards away, then a dim light shone on the ground nearby. In the reflected light, Rona could see a man, holding a smalll incandescent object with which he was examining the ground in a wide swathe, obviously looking for tracks. Concealed in shadow, Rona was not in danger of being seen, and she remained lying perfectly still as the man investigated, then the light switched off. After a moment the shadowy figure moved on, creeping through the forest toward the spring Rona had bathed in earlier. She stayed there, motionless but alert, for quite some time. The blood seemed to boil in her veins at the thought of an enemy scout venturing so close to her tribe's lands. She considered following him and ambushing him, but there was no telling if he was alone. It was a risk not worth taking, she decided, and lay quiet until the adrenaline faded. Sleep was a long time coming. Soon after dawn, Rona awoke, feeling rested and lively. She carefully emerged from her niche and did a quick circuit to assess her surroundings, bow strung and ready. All was quiet. She relaxed a bit, and prepared for the day. Before she set out, she looked for the trail of the intruder. With a keen eye for the signs that even an experienced woodsman would leave, Rona quickly found where he had passed, and followed the trail down to the pool. From there the man had gone west, then turned back to the south, towards the trade trail. She decided that heading due east was the best route to avoid him, and proceeded that way after returning for her pack. Through the rocks, meadows, and trees she went; moving quickly, but cautiously avoiding clearings and ridgelines where she could be seen from further upslope. The only creatures she encountered were a family of deer that she startled, who bounded away quickly when they caught her scent. Soon the land became steeper, and she found a narrow valley to ascend to the trade-trail just before it met the shadow of the cliffs. She could see the trail pass over a small ridge, beyond which the gigantic cleft loomed. She trotted along the trail and quickly passed over the ridge into the valley at the base of the cleft, which was filled with a wide, deep lake. As Gyrag had said, the trade-trail was carved into the rocky ridge alongside the west bank of the valley, with very little in the manner of cover, especially further into the defile. The lake itself was possibly the only escape route. Rona took a few deep breaths as she unstrapped her bow and strung it. Holding the bow and an arrow in one hand, she took off at a quick pace, striving for a balance of speed and silence. Deeper into blessed shade, the air still held a refreshing coolness. A few birds chirped in the cliffs above the trail, but that was the only discernable sound for some time, until Rona began to hear the muffled roar of the waterfall at the innermost end of the canyon. The lake narrowed quickly as she penetrated the canyon, until there was only a stone's throw separating the walls. The trail itself was carved into the solid rock of the cliff at this point, and even underneath an enormous overhang for a long stretch, making it feel cave-like. As she emerged into the canyon beyond the overhang, Rona rounded a corner to see the trail begin to rise ahead, a steep slope up to a spur of rock. She ascended to this point and paused to assess the path ahead. Instinctively crouching by a boulder, Rona scanned the trail and the steep slope above her to the west. She could see where the trail switched back ahead, and glanced upward to get a feel for where it ascended. Just then, a flicker of movement drew her attention ahead, to where the trail turned. She froze as she saw the figure of a man - no, two men - approaching the first switchback ahead of her. They moved with the quick and furtive pace of hunters, which immediately alerted her suspicions. She drew closer to the boulder and pulled the edge of her rain cloak down to disguise her profile. At this distance, in the deep shadow of the cleft, they would be hard-pressed to see her if she stayed still. She watched, motionless, as they rounded the switchback. The rearmost stopped for a quick view of the trail behind them before continuing. Rona watched carefully upslope, trying to catch a glimpse of the hunting party on the trail above and ahead of her. From the angle she had, there was only a couple of places where she saw movement. Taking a deep breath, she started up the trail herself, staying quiet, as close to the slope as possible. Her adrenaline rode high, and she grasped her bow firmly as her senses sharpened. She stalked. Rona had done some hunting in her life, but never for a prey as dangerous as this. At the switchback she quickly darted around the corner and continued up the path. As she had suspected, the trail was wide and well-built, and she was able to move quickly and close to the wall. Her eyes were constantly moving from the trail ahead, to the slope above her, ears alert for any sound of her quarry. She was quite confident that they had no warning of her presence, and took great care to maintain that status. As she drew closer to the next switchback, she heard low voices from the trail above. She froze, next to a good portion of steep wall, and listened intently. Quiet footsteps, and then another low mutter, too faint to distinguish any words. When she could no longer hear footsteps, she continued. After the next switchback, the trail rose more steeply, even having broad stair-steps at a few points. The trail rounded a ridge and continued deeper into the canyon, much further than the first switchback. Here the path was built on the steep jagged slope of some ancient avalanche, overgrown with vines and a few stubborn trees and punctuated with massive boulders. The cliff wall high above was broken, and Rona knew that the trade trail would ascend to the Upper Forest there. She continued trailing them cautiously, wary of the increasing light as the trail rose higher. The roar of the waterfall was closer here, making subtle noises unhearable. The trail wound around boulders and crossed the path of a small rivulet before switching back again. The trail reversed directions four more times before Rona caught another glimpse of the others. There was a bridge across the trench dug by the little stream here, and when Rona saw it up ahead, she also noticed a man crouched in the shadow just beyond. He was holding something up to his eyes, a short object pointed toward the cliff on the opposite side of the great cleft. Rona froze in place, and slowly flattened as she slid back around the tree she had just passed. Just in time, as the man turned the viewtube in her direction. On the ground already, she concealed herself fully. Heart pounding, she waited for twenty breaths before peeking again. The man had put away his viewtube and was relieving himself over the edge of the trail. Rona relaxed slightly. When he was done, he picked up his pack and continued, as did she. After three more switchbacks, the trail was nearly high enough to be exposed to the full light of the sun. The trail was rapidly shortening between the switchbacks as it grew close to the top of the cleft. Rona spotted her quarry crossing the rivulet again - two men, this time, not looking her way. She stayed in the shade of boulder until they disappeared, then followed. Now that she knew where they were, she closed the gap a bit, stealthily moving from vantage point to another. So when they stopped, she stopped as well, and found a friendly clump of vegetation to hide behind while she watched them. The two men had found a deep niche alongside the trail, and were busy setting up some sort of equipment there. One of them strung a wire across the path, drove a spike into the rock on the downslope side, and attached the wire to it. He then lay the wire on the path and concealed it carefully under gravel and dust. The other end went into the niche, where Rona could not see from her angle. The other man was doing something else in the niche at the same time. After a bit, Rona noticed something very unusual - a hint of movement in the air further along the trail, a slight blurring quite unlike anything she had ever seen before. Blinking, she studied the optical effect intently. Suddenly, the blur opened from the center, revealing a man standing in the path near the niche. Rona nearly gasped at the unexpected sight. The man was large, very large, and bore the ritual scars of the Z'Krol. He shrugged off the robe he was wearing, which she could see clearly from the inner side as he lay it over a nearby rock. It was an eerie and disconcerting sight to see him appear from seeming nothingness. He disappeared into the niche. After a short time, the man stepped back onto the path and wrapped himself in the transparency cloak again. Rona could see that it was a long robe, brushing the ground, with a fitted hood that covered everything but the man's eyes. He pulled the robe closed in the front and fastened it, and was virtually invisible once again. Only his eyes were visible, and only when they were briefly turned in her direction. Then the slight blur was the only sign of his presence, as he moved away further up the trail. Soon afterward, a blur drew Rona's attention in that direction again. The process was repeated, although this was a different man. After a brief interlude, he too donned his transparency robe and moved up the path. Rona tried to interpret the situation as best she could. A group of at least four Z'Krol warriors, encroaching on the territory of the Sky People, setting an ambush on the path; while two of them were using some sort of invisibility magic to conceal their invasion into the Upper Forest. She could think of several possible objectives for a raiding party such as this, and it stirred her blood with anger. Determined, she set a course of action. She would bypass the ambush site, cross the Upper Forest, and head for the final ascent to the home of the Sky People. That path would be guarded, she was sure. Rona looked for a place to ascend to the next level of the trail, making sure to stay out of sight. She soon found a promising-looking crack, unstrung and stowed her bow, and started to climb. The crack soon dwindled to nothing, and Rona was forced to climb on the open rock. To make matters worse, she was fully exposed to the sun and quickly found herself flagging from the exertion of climbing. She found a somewhat secure foothold where she could rest for a few minutes, and take a drink of water, before continuing. After a few more grueling minutes, she reached the trail, where she found a bit of shade under a tree and gratefully shed her pack. She wiped her face with a cloth, and restrung her bow. Just as she lifted her pack, she heard the scuffle of footsteps from down the trail. Even though alarmed, she finished putting the pack on and buckling it securely, then picked up her bow and calmly nocked an arrow. There was nowhere to hide here. The two men from the ambush site rounded the turn as she stepped out into the trail, drew and fired in one swift motion. Her aim was true, the arrow striking the first man in the middle of the chest, but his leather breastplate stopped most of the impact. He was more surprised than hurt, but bellowed once and staggered back, his companion cursing and ducking for cover as Rona nocked another arrow. A long moment passed while Rona tried to get a clear shot at the warriors; and they scrambled back, one fumbling for weapons and the other trying to pull the arrow out of his breastplate and his flesh, and both trying to find cover. The unwounded one finally rose, bow in hand and murder in his eyes. Rona's arrow left her bow a split second before his did, grazing one arm and cutting a bloody furrow on the way by. His arrow she barely avoided, twisting to the side as the breeze from its passing tugged at a stray strand of hair. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she shifted her balance and drew another arrow. Again Rona was quicker than her opponent. This time her arrow struck true, piercing his leather leggings and the thigh beneath. His concentration was not broken, but his arrow whistled through empty air as the girl lowered and flattened her profile. The other warrior came charging then, holding a sword and a shield high as he leaped past his comrade, his pierced breastplate apparently abandoned, and sprinting toward Rona. She immediately whirled and fled, ducking instinctively as another arrow flew through the space she had occupied just an instant before. Accelerating to full speed in a few steps, Rona ran for her life, the pounding footsteps of the warrior growing louder behind her. Encumbered by the pack on her back and the bow in her hand, Rona could hear him getting closer. Eyes on the trail ahead, she reached the next switchback only a scant few yards ahead of the warrior and cut the corner as closely as she could. She gained a couple of steps with the turn, as the man's greater bulk took him on a slightly more rounded trajectory. The man's companion was limping along some distance behind, and Rona caught a glimpse of him drawing bead on her as she raced up the trail. The arrow passed behind her as she pushed herself to run faster than she had ever run in her life. The trail turned again and wound upwards into the cleft at the top of the mountainside, the slope more gentle here. The race continued; the warrior's longer legs giving him the advantage on the straighter parts, while the scout's agility gave her better ability to maneuver around the frequent twists and turns. Even so, he gained a couple of paces on her as they ascended the narrowing valley, not letting up his chase in the slightest. Time stretched for Rona, each pounding step she ran calculated and executed perfectly. Ahead, she knew, there would be the others, the cloaked ones, and they would likely be on or near the path itself. Her eyes scanned incessantly, alert for any visual abnormalities that would give away their presence. The trail broke the crest and she was suddenly on the massive plateau of the Upper Forest. The path smoothed and began curving to the left; Rona immediately saw the disadvantage for her on this stretch, so instead of continuing along the trail, she picked a spot before the curve and plunged into the woods, the warrior still in hot pursuit. She heard a startled shout from behind her, which the warrior responded to with a brief, hoarse yell of his own. He sounded a bit out of breath. Forests were Rona's element, but this one was unfamiliar to her. The underbrush was more prevalent than the deep forests of the lowlands, the tree cover more sparse. She was forced to plow through some bushes, using her bow to push branches aside, and leap over others, to maintain her scant lead over the onrushing warrior. Little by little, however, she increased the distance between them. The terrain was fairly level here, but soon her path crossed a trickling stream in a rocky little valley, where she took her opportunity to suddenly change directions and dart eastward, upstream. Here she was able to use her agility to great advantage, bounding up, onto, and over rocks and boulders; scurrying along brief ridges at full speed, over fallen logs and gravelly slopes; as swift and sure-footed as any creature of the wild. She heard him falling further and further behind, but she didn't stop running until she couldn't hear him anymore, and she didn't stop moving until she had covered another quarter-mile or more, picking her path more carefully . Finally she dared to stop, hidden behind a great tree in peaceful sunlit copse. Panting shallowly, drenched in sweat, sporting numerous cuts and scrapes from the plants she had ran through; but alive. Alive, and free. She took out her waterskin and guzzled nearly the entire thing, and drizzled the rest over her face. After a brief respite, she continued her journey, going quietly and cautiously, leaving as little mark of her passage as she could. This was her specialty, and she did it to perfection. Only a master of tracking could hope to follow the trail she left, and that only with great time and patience. She made her way toward the crevice in the upper cliff that she knew was the trade-trail's route to the homeland of the M'Chal. A drifting ghost would perhaps have disturbed the serene forest more than Rona did passing through. It was a beautiful place, full of exotic-looking flowers and sturdy vines climbing the boulders. The trees themselves were a mix of narrow- and needle-leaf, with a few fruit trees interspersed, some laden with nature's bounty. She took a few moments to harvest a handful of dark red cherries and ate them as she walked. Perhaps an hour later, she intersected the trade-trail again and took to it after a cautious assessment. The ascent to the M'Chal lands was sure to be watched closely, she knew; therefore, she abandoned trying to conceal herself. She unstrung her bow and strapped it into place, donned her sun hat, and trotted up the trail. The path rose to the base of the cliff ahead. Ahead of her, a man rose from behind a crag and stepped out into the trail, holding a spear. Her heart pounded in trepidation, but Rona slowed her trot, approached, and hailed him. "Bright morning, guardian." The man nodded back to her. He wore armor of hardened leather and blackened metal, and a helm painted with feathers. "Light upon you, traveller. Who are you, and why do you come to our lands?" "I am Rona, exile of the Bilobi. I seek refuge in your lands, if you will hear my plea." She lowered her eyes to the ground between them, joining her hands in a gesture of supplication. There was a moment of silence. Rona peeked up to see the man waving some sort of signal to someone behind him, then turning back to her. "I am Tol, of the M'Chal. Your request is granted, Rona, exile of the Bilobi. You may enter our lands and plead your case. " She let out a low sigh of relief. "My thanks, Tol." She paused, and looked back along the trail behind her. "There are other travellers here, however, whose intentions are not so peaceful..." "Oh?" Tol stepped closer, beckoning for his companion to join them. "Tell us." "A raiding party, I'm quite sure they were Z'Krol. Four of them, I believe. Two were cloaked in some sort of ... transparency. I don't know, it looked like magic of some kind. They went ahead, leaving two to set an ambush on the second leg down of the switchbacks. The two that stayed were not cloaked, but hidden in a crevice. I tried to sneak past them by climbing up the cliff, but they must have saw me, and they both chased me. I stuck an arrow through one's leg, but the other chased me into the Upper Forest before I lost him." Tol's face grew darker with every sentence, and his grip tightened visibly on his spear. He nodded brusquely to her. "My thanks." He turned to his companion that had joined them, a slightly shorter man, similarly equipped. "Signal the strike team." The man hurried back toward their outpost. Tol turned his gaze back to Rona, then down the trail. "We will teach these scum to stay away from our lands," he growled. Rona nodded, a savage smile creeping across her face. "I would be happy to help in any way I can." The signal was sent via heliograph to the top of the cliff, and in a matter of minutes, a pair of gliders launched above and sailed above the forest. Rona watched with keen curiosity, having only heard stories of the manmade wings of the Sky People. They were large, triangular shapes with the human occupant controlling them from a framework below the wing. The scouts circled a few times before a band of warriors swiftly descended on ropes to the guardpost. "We have a group of foragers out in the berry-bushes," Tol explained, as his comrades assembled with an impressive array of weaponry. "We will send some to inform them of the danger and guard them, while the rest of us go to the trade-trail and seek these invaders. I will lead this effort. You are welcome to accompany us." "Gladly," Rona answered. Soon the teams were ready and they set off; four of the warriors angling off to the northeast toward the berry pickers, while the other seven, and Rona, trotted down the trade-trail.

The Z'Krol, it turned out, had decided to vacate the area completely. A thorough search of the area where Rona had been chased found only a few tracks, and further investigation down the trade-trail found no sign that the raiding party remained in the area. The flying scouts continued their patrol as midday crept into afternoon; after posting guards at the top of the lower trail, the teams of warriors returned to the guardpost. The foragers joined them there as well, a group consisting of boys, giggling maidens, and more serious matrons, bearing baskets laden with ripe berries. Further back in the cliff wall, an ingenious system of ropes, baskets, and counterweights allowed the foragers to relinquish their burdens and ascend the long stairs to their home, Rona and the warriors in tow. The stairway itself was cleverly constructed, carved into solid stone for the most part, with some sections supplemented by solid, well-maintained plank bridges. Gleaming metal poles connected the levels between switchbacks at regular intervals. Rona puzzled over their function, until she finally had to ask her escorts about them. The poles were used as effective shortcuts for the downward descent, it turned out.

The air changed as they climbed, and Rona felt a bit light-headed at times as she adjusted to the altitude. Clouds were forming above the lowlands, a sign of the daily afternoon rain. A pleasant breeze kept them cool as they reached the top of the stairs, and the panorama of the homeland of the Sky People spread out before them. A craggy landscape full of jagged spires of black rock, the terrain was bewilderingly mazelike to Rona's unfamiliar gaze. The party was hailed by another mixed group, those who had been raising the lifts at the top of the cliff. The foragers took up their baskets and wound their way eastward toward their village, seemingly simultaneously bursting into song as they began to walk. Their voices echoed from the rocks around them, giving joyous praise for the bounty and beauty of summer. Rona could not help but smile for the exuberance and vitality of these people, and found herself humming along to the song as she learned it. Soon the paved trail crossed a ravine over an elegantly shaped bridge of pure black basalt, and ascended a ridge until they were overlooking a picturesque valley. Dominating the skyline, a tall outcropping of the black rock rose perhaps another thousand feet above their present height, and at its peak, several columns of sparkling crystal scattered the sunlight in a million different directions. Nestled into the base of the steep spires, a large village was built. Houses were mounds of earth with doorways and chimneys; several larger structures were also built into the ground, with sturdy-looking roofs. Below the village, a swath of terraces displayed a bounty of vegetation, and at the bottom of the valley a lake of crystal clear water lay like a splendid invitation. There were people everywhere, and little goats darted here and there, chasing children or being chased. People farming, swimming, flying kites, and a host of other activities. Rona estimated the population of the village as perhaps a thousand. The harvesters were met by a flock of children and baby goats partway down the slope, squealing in delight and trying to sing along with the summer song, some babbling excitedly, and all trying to finagle a sample of the harvest from the baskets. Laughing matrons hugged their children, and some of the goats bounced around their humans in obvious delight. There was an infectious feeling of celebration in the air as they brought the song to a final chorus and began dispersing into the village.

Tol and a pair of the other warrior leaders escorted Rona to the largest structure in the valley, in the middle of town. The aboveground portion of the building was impressive in its solidity, constructed of massive slabs of basalt and a large metal-bound gate at its entrance. Rona's people had a similar structure, a fortress to retreat to in times of great peril. Up a broad flight of stairs they ascended to the top of the edifice, where a stone watchtower rose, as tall as a tree. There was a a pleasant little table beneath a broad awning beside the tower, and there they could set down their weapons, and Rona gratefully shed her pack and equipment belts. They sat down on pillowed chairs and were brought refreshing juice by a lovely young dark-haired girl. The breeze was perfect, the temperature was comfortable, and the juice was delicious. They enjoyed the ambience in silence while they awaited the eshtale. After perhaps twenty minutes, three people approached and ascended the stairs toward them, two men and a woman. The men were mature, older warriors in their prime. Dark-haired and sun-bronzed, they were typical specimens of the Solbanian tribes. The woman, however, was quite different indeed. Her hair was shockingly blonde; her skin was somewhat tanned, but still pale. Her face had a delicate quality to it, almost childlike. She was dressed in a light, flowy white dress that looked eminently comfortable, and a matching white sun hat. She also bore the rod of an eshtale. The two warriors split to either side and the woman approached between them, as Rona and the others rose to greet them. Rona stepped away from her comfortable seat and stood before them. "Greetings, Rona." The woman's voice had a melodic quality. "I am Raebessa. Welcome to Crystal Tower." She was a bit taller than Rona and had intense, light blue eyes. Rona abstractly noted that her ears were slightly pointed. There was something familiar about her that Rona could not quite place. Rona tore her gaze away from Raebessa's mesmerizing eyes, and bowed her head in gratitude. "My thanks, eshtale. I seek refuge among you, as I have been exiled from my homeland." Wordlessly, the fair-haired woman reached out and cupped Rona's face gently, and then embraced her quickly. "You are welcome here," she whispered in that moment. At the woman's touch, a tingling, almost electric shock cascaded through Rona's body, leaving her momentarily breathless. Raebessa stepped back, a sweet, secret smile pulling at her lips as their eyes met again. "Let us sit, now, and you can tell us all about it."

Rona related her story to them as the afternoon wore on. The warriors were particularly interested in hearing about the camoflauging robes, and what Rona had observed of the raiders' tactics. When all the questions had been answered and various repurcussions and extrapolations discussed, the hour was growing late and the smell of cooking food began wafting from the village around them. They concluded their meeting and dispersed. Raebessa bid her tribesmen farewell, then turned to Rona. "I will inform the elders of our decision to accept your request for refuge. You can stay with me, if you want. I have a spare room in my little temple for guests." She waved in the direction of the spires above the village and smiled shyly, "And I'll bet you could use a hot bath." "Oh, now that sounds delightful!" Rona exclaimed. With no further ado, they picked up Rona's equipment and headed up the wide walkways toward Raebessa's home.

An amazingly short time later, Rona was soaking in a luxuriously warm bath, set in a large bowl carved into the black stone of the hillside. The bath was fed by an ingeniously designed system of trenches and switches to bring water that had been heated by the sun in pools in the rocks above. The bath was above a small private garden nestled in the boulders behind the house that Raebessa referred to as her temple. The house itself was carved into a short spire. There was an elegant but comfortable sitting area in the entry room, a kitchen on the garden side, and a pair of side rooms that contained niche beds and storage shelves. The main room was also Raebessa's bedroom, it turned out; it was a beautiful space surrounded on every wall with polished crystal ornaments, statuettes, and sparkles from every direction. There also hung several paintings of an erotic nature that had made Rona blush at the sight, and the enormous round bed in the center of the room had given her no doubt about the kind of activities that went on there. Raebessa had shown Rona the room she would be using, explained how to draw the bath, and given her a massive fluffy towel and a robe before leaving to address the elders. The place was so peaceful and her hostess so sweet, that Rona felt immediately comfortable. Now she relaxed in the warm water gratefully, feeling the soreness and exhaustion seeping out of her in the elemental luxury. She drifted into a reverie for some time. When she opened her eyes again, it was to the sound of a door closing and light footsteps on the mosaic-stone walkway leading through the little garden. The sun had set and twilight gloom was deepening. Raebessa appeared through the vine-and-flower-covered trellis and set a basket and a lantern down on the little table there. She glanced up at Rona and smiled brightly. "I brought us some dinner! My grandmother made some of her koshgal meat pies, and I am so blessed to be in her good graces today!" Raebessa giggled and went back into the house. Rona extricated herself from the bath, reluctantly, but also realizing how great her hunger had grown. She dried herself off on the great towel as Raebessa returned to the table and set out utinsels. Rona watched the fair-haired woman curiously as she slipped on the light robe and tied the belt closed; then she descended the short stairway to the cozy tea-table. Rae pulled out a chair for her. "Here you are, dear... well, then, you do clean up nicely, don't you?" Her eyes roamed over Rona's face and form for a brief moment before their gaze met. There was a sparkle in her eyes that Rona could not attribute entirely to reflection, and she found herself quite lost for a long moment. Rae's lips parted slightly and she leaned forward a bit, before catching herself with a small shake of her head and a throaty chuckle. "Some hostess I am, getting distracted... sit, sit." Rae giggled again. Rona complied, and Rae opened the basket to release a mouth-watering aroma from the freshly baked goodness within. It was perhaps the most delicious meal Rona had ever eaten. The combination of her hunger, the struggle and portentiousness of the day, the strange but serene surroundings, her enchanting hostess - all conspired to fill her senses. It was almost like being intoxicated, but instead of numbness she felt actually more alive than she could have dreamed possible. She devoured the meat pie, the seasoned sweet potatoes, oil-and-spiced tender greens, the mushroom soup and salty crackers, and the berry tart; all in rapid succession. A glass of sweet plum wine set off the flavor of the tart nicely as Rona finally leaned back from the table with a contented sigh. Night had fallen completely, and the stars shone brightly above. The spires, the rocks around them, the temple, the plants, and her hostess all seemed aglow with the gentle light. Rae pushed her own plate away and delicately dabbed away the tart crumbs from her berry-darkened lips. "Oh, summertime." She laughed, a silvery tinkle blending with the trickle of water and the chirping of various insects around them. "It is my favorite season, and the food has a lot to do with that." "I can only agree," Rona rubbed her belly contentedly. "I haven't met your grandmother yet, but I already know she's amazing." "Yes, she is," Rae agreed with a chuckle. "Amazing enough to land an Aelven lover many years ago..." She stroked the tip of one ear. "Oh!" Rona exclaimed. "Tell me about her?" she suggested. They spent some time talking about Raebessa and her family. Her grandfather was a wandering Aelven adventurer by the name of Enobosil, who had come and lived among the M'Chal for a number of years. He had become quite smitten by the gorgeous young Wiusa, Rae's grandmother, and she with him; their exceptional love bore them a child, a rare happenstance indeed for the two species. That child was Rae's father, Norbosil. Enobosil was a scholar, a scout, and a mage, come to the region to investigate the numerous ruins in the mountains to the east. While he was careful in his planning and preparation, the missions he took deep into Hobgoblin territory were dangerous. Some of the more daring warriors of the M'Chal had joined with the Aelf for these excursions, and they had some successful trips, coming back with scouting reports, mineral and biological samples, cultural analysis, and even some valuable loot. Then, the party did not return from one of these summer trips, and none were ever seen again. Wiusa was heartbroken, of course, but moved on to start a family with others after a while. Norbosil was slow to mature, so much so that even his ten-years-younger sister reached puberty before he did. He became a hunter of uncanny ability, spending much of his time in nature. He was loyal to his family, though. Norbosil and Rae's mother Mivana become lovers, and then oath-bonded, and Rae was born soon after. She was also slow to mature, although not quite as much so as her father. She was now, she informed Rona, twenty-nine years old, although she appeared no older than Rona herself at eighteen. She was already eshtale, she explained, because she had pledged herself to the Goddess of Love and been given the power of Peace. This ability was certainly very convenient for someone whose job, quite often, was to settle inter-domestic disputes and cool hot heads; and that she could offer counsel and comfort to the suffering made her even more valuable in the position. As the priestess talked, Rona started to understand why her community trusted her implicitly. Rae was so open, enthusiastic, and overflowing with love and gratitude for her tribesmen and family, that Rona was quite caught up in the tale; until she suddenly realized she was having trouble focusing her eyes, and smothered a yawn. Rae took her by the hand then, and led her back to the room they had set her gear in. A cozy bed was set up in a deep niche in the back wall. Rona sank into the fluffy mattress gratefully, Rae obligingly tucked the blankets around her, and she fell asleep even as the priestess quietly closed the door.

The next day, Rona started to become acquainted with the community of Crystal Towers, with Rae as her guide. The priestess was not eshtale this day, and they were free to wander about. Rae was well-liked by her tribe, and greeted cheerfully wherever they went. The children especially were happy to see her, and they engaged in numerous games throughout the day, frolicking and laughing. Along the way, Rona was gifted some clothing and adornments by other women, so she soon was wearing a comfortable sun dress and fancy sandals. Rae was complimentary and supportive to everyone they came across, leaving the women beaming and the men grinning; or sometimes, blushing and stammering. It was a relaxing and enjoyable day, full of tales and laughter and enough introductions to make Rona's head spin. Night fell and once again they dined together in the garden. Afterwards, their conversation took a more serious tone, as Rona told Rae the full story of the altercation that led to her exile, and of her journey to the M'Chal. Speaking of the events of the last several days moved Rona to tears, as even then she was still trying to fully comprehend the sudden life changes that had taken place. Rae was very understanding and sympathetic, and when Rona cried, she cried with her; and held her until the tears stopped flowing. Rona slept well again that night, at peace with what had happened.

The next day Rona spent with the warriors, getting a grand tour of the town's outposts and defenses, and an overview of the aerial abilities of the M'Chal. From the gliding wings to the rope-jumpers, the M'Chal were masters of their mountainous environment, and Rona could see numerous new skills and equipment that she would like to learn. A training regimen was decided upon to best complement her abilities, and Rona went back to the temple feeling inspired and hopeful that she could quickly become a valuable asset to her gracious hosts. That evening, after dinner, Rae led Rona up into the rocks behind the temple; up a steep winding stairway to a small basin at the top of one of the towers. The view was spectacular from here, the waxing moon above lighting the towers around them with its gentle glow. They looked at the stars for a while, taking in the serene beauty of the landscape along with the sweet-smelling herb they smoked out of a sparkling crystal pipe. It was quite heady stuff, and as Rona gazed at her companion's silhouette, recognition dawned on her. "You were in my vision!" she exclaimed, and then had to explain what she was talking about. Rae seemed very interested in the vision, asking several questions about one detail or another. The sriwi'ani in particular she was curious about; and when Rona had answered her questions as best she could, the priestess sat down close to her and whispered in her ear. "A few are friends of mine. Look, up there." Rae pointed up into the sky, tracing a line. "They are watching, much of the time." She giggled. "They seem to find us amusing, or at least entertaining. Especially our love lives. We mammals do things much different than they do." Rona laughed. "I can only imagine." She thought she saw a blurring of the stars where Rae was pointing. The priestess's body was warm and soft and neither of them felt inclined to separate while they watched the night sky. After some time, thirst drove them to descend to the garden for more plum wine. Rae filled their glasses full and toasted her guest with a sparkle in her eye. "To you, Rona, a beautiful addition to the Crystal Towers! I am blessed by your presence." Rona blushed a bit and lowered her eyes modestly. "I am the blessed one, priestess, to have found my way to your light." She raised her eyes to Rae's again, and they both drank deeply. Rae's face was slightly flushed, and she stood on her tiptoes and inhaled deeply. She exhaled slowly, keeping eye contact with Rona, and smiled, her full lips glistening in the moonlight. "I think it's time to go inside for my light show." The light show turned out to be spectacular. Rae lit lanterns in the corners of the main room and dialed knobs underneath them; these little machines rotated the lanterns slowly as they unwound, the cylinders around the lamps pierced with holes to let the light shine through intermittedly. The result was a myriad of sparkling from all the crystal ornamentation in the room, rainbows and colors and shimmering reflections in every direction, constantly changing in a bewilderingly complex array. Rona found herself sitting on the edge of the great round bed, sipping the delicious plum wine, bedazzled and relaxed and utterly lost in the moment. It was somehow perfect when Rae sat next to her, intimately close, her long smooth legs brushing against her own. Rae's skin was warm and the electric feeling rushed through Rona again as she turned her gaze on her fair hostess. Rae wore only a filmy short nightgown now, and Rona drank in her ethereal beauty. Her hostess smiled languidly and caressed her face lightly, then kissed her tenderly. Rona's entire being seemed alight then, the sensations and emotions heightening as her body responded to Rae's gentle touch. The priestess's hands caressed here and there, stroking her neck, her hair, her arms; brushing against Rona's erect nipples, down her ribcage and gently across her soft abdomen. Rona rose to her caresses, body yearning, as the passion flared from a spark to a roaring inferno. Soon the scant clothing had been discarded and they made sweet love together, with a seemingly insatiable hunger. Despite her inexperience, Rona was instinctive and enthusiastic as she explored Rae's beautiful body with her fingers and her lips, delighting as the priestess's breath came in gasps, and little moans of pleasure; and as her dripping womanhood grew warm and swollen, the kisses and caresses grew ever more heated. Time seemed to stand still for them as they brought each other to peaks of pleasure and finally to writhing, moist climax; then, they cuddled together in an intimate embrace, sweaty, covered in each others' juices, and utterly satisfied. As Rona lay spooned against the priestess, her arm draped over her lover's ribcage, feet tangled together as if in tribute to their ecstasy; her last thought put a smile on her beautiful lips as she drifted off to sleep. She was home.

#fantasy adventure love

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lpdwillwrite4coffee · 4 years

Text

BLOODY SUNRISE CHAPTER TEN

“C’mon now,” Booker laughed, holding his hands up. “Put your weight into it.”

Caitlin balled up her fists, keeping them at her chin like he taught her.

Booker tapped the center of his left palm. “Right there. C’mon, like ya mean it.”

She jabbed, knuckles making contact with his hand. It barely stung and he didn’t even flinch.

“Really, Meadows?”

She sighed and dropped her arms. “I’m trying.”

“No you’re not, you’re pussyfootin’,” he said, lowering his hands. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of hurtin’ me.”

She bit the tip of her tongue to keep quiet.

Every day for at least an hour Booker had been teaching her self-defense. He started with blocking and how to disarm someone, and then moved on to more offensive tactics—proper punching form, sparring, and how to escape certain holds.

She was getting better, but her punch needed some work.

“Maybe I’m just not annoyed with you enough,” she said, smirking and lifting an eyebrow.

“If our fight this mornin’ about the last of the peanut butter wasn’t enough to piss you off for a day, I dunno what is.”

She scowled at him. “I told you not to bring it up again.”

Booker grinned and held his hands up. “That’s it. G’head, throw that punch out.”

She jabbed and skin to skin snapped like a rubber band.

“There ya go, that’s it,” he said, voice low.

The deep rumble of words sent goosebumps up her arms, completely out of place in the Mississippi summer heat.

“C’mon, Cae,” he urged.

It was too similar to her dream.

The first time in over a month she didn’t have a nightmare or empty void of unconsciousness and it turned into… that.

“Hey, where’d ya go?” He asked, brow furrowing.

“Huh?”

“Disappearin’ in your head again.”

She blinked. “Sorry.”

Readjusting her stance, she gave a couple fierce punches, and tried to ignore the tiny thrill skipping through her as Booker grunted.

He was going to figure it out. He read her too well, always telling her she thought too loud.

Not that he was the Sphinx riddle to her either.

She knew. She saw the hints of pink high on his cheekbones and the tips of his ears when she moaned into a good stretch. How he’d practically snap his neck to avoid watching her clean off in a creek or pond. He’d give in eventually, and she knew the moment exactly—Her pulse would always quicken, and the hair would raise at the back of her neck. Like being watched by a wolf in the forest.

Not that she’d mind being devoured.

“What?”

Booker’s voice brought her back to the present so fast she could’ve gotten whiplash.

“Lost steam, Meadows,” he commented. “You need a break?”

She bit the inside of her lip.

She needed something else entirely.

“Yeah, sure.” Dropping her fists, she wandered over to the Jeep and sat on the bumper.

Sweat dripped down her neck from her hairline, and she wiped at it. She was perpetually damp from the heat and humidity, never able to fully cool off.

Glancing up, she caught Booker staring at where her hand was against her collarbone. Quickly he ducked and turned away, suddenly very interested in the tree they’d parked under.

Oh yeah, he was an open book.

Standing, she opened up the back and took a small amount of toilet paper off the roll they had at the ready.

“I’m gonna…” She trailed off, flashing the Charmin.

“Stay close,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

Over protective, as always.

She’d just finished and was about to yank her underwear back up when she noticed.

“Shit.” It was louder than intended.

“Y’alright?”

“Uh… yeah.”

Boots crunched closer. “Meadows?”

She sighed and glared up at the branches over her head. “Can you toss me my pack?”

“Y’get bit by somethin’ or—”

“No, Booker, geez,” she snapped. “Just throw me my bag, please?”

He muttered something incomprehensible and strode away. The Jeep door opened and shut and then he was returning.

“Where you at?”

“No, don’t come over,” she called. “Just toss it…” She held her hand up so he knew where to aim.

Her pack landed a foot away and she snatched it up.

Booker was leaning against the Jeep when she returned, sipping on a water bottle.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

Shoving her pack behind the passenger seat, she shook her head. “Nope. You ready to head out?”

He looked like he was trying too hard not to grin. “Sure.”

They were on the road less than two minutes before he was cocking his head at her.

“Got your period, huh?”

Caitlin nearly choked on her Gatorade.

Booker laughed at her reaction, shifting his hold on the wheel—back to that alpha male wrist driving she hated so goddamn much.

“The fuck, Booker.”

“It’s not like you were subtle.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Sure it is.”

“Excuse me?”

He laughed again. “I mean, in terms of a supply run. We gotta make sure you have what y’need.”

“I’m good. I have plenty.”

“Besides, I ain’t a caveman,” he said, eyeing her like he was waiting for her to counter that statement. “I understand biology.”

“Bully for you, you’re a 21st century man.” She pointedly stared out the window, wind tangling her hair.

There was a beat before he said, “Why’d you think ya had hide it?”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

She sighed. “I don’t know, Booker, maybe I’m just not used to living with a man.”

He nodded, making an affirmative noise at the back of this throat. “Makes sense.” He glanced over at her, adding, “Y’mean, uh… Nathaniel ain’t the Tampax run in the middle of the night, kinda guy?”

Caitlin’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought of Nathaniel in days.

“We never lived together.” She stared at Booker’s profile. “I’m sure he would’ve if I’d asked.”

“Usin’ past tense,” Booker commented. “That mean you think he’s gone?”

She considered it a moment. “It means… I don’t know where we stand if I do find him again.”

Everything in her screamed at the vulnerability of her statement. She’d left herself wide open for a barrage of questions that would all lead to the same conclusion.

Her feelings had shifted.

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out the rest.

By the grace of a god she didn’t believe in, Booker only hummed and nodded in understanding.

***

Since acquiring the Jeep, their routine had changed significantly. Off roading wasn’t much of an issue as long as the trees weren’t too thick. They made infinitely better time and now that they were further from Atlanta, odds of running across military goon squads were slim. Highways were still packed with abandoned cars, but Caitlin enjoyed the scavenging. It was something she was good at, and she had an eye for people’s patterns and habits, which meant she could always tell who had the better stuff.

She’d taken to collecting CDs along with essentials. It kept her sane, gathering such small tokens of optimism. Not to mention it was helpful in drowning out Booker’s bickering from time to time.

After several days of zig-zagging across Alabama and into Mississippi, they decided to make camp near a freshwater pond to rest and clean up.

Booker kept watch, just like always, as she rinsed off.

Like a wolf in the woods…

Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted him crouched on the grassy hill, rifle in hand. He was staring off into the distance, but she knew he was only focused on her.

Knew it as well as her own heartbeat.

Viscerally interdependent.

Innocent and primitive.

We run together.

That night they slept with the canvas off the Jeep, desperate for even the faintest breeze.

“Booker, why don’t you let me take first watch?” She offered.

He hid it well, but his exhaustion was starting to show beneath his eyes. She knew Booker didn’t sleep much—never had, since the day they met—but he was still human. And she was steadier with a weapon, had better instincts when night came now than she did.

“I’m alright, songbird,” he told her as he settled back against the door. “You sleep.”

Songbird. He’d never called her that before.

She wanted to tease him about it, but something desperate and hungry inside her was afraid he’d never say it again if she did.

She loved the pet name too much to lose it.

Her dream that night was of a house in the country. A buttercup yellow kitchen. Coffee brewing, the scent filling the whole room. A ring on her left finger, a big smile just for her, and kisses that didn’t end.

It was still dark when she stirred awake.

“Dreamin’?”

She stretched and looked up at him. “Mhm-hm.”

“Good one?”

Caitlin stilled. “Yeah. Yeah it was.”

“’Bout time,” Booker murmured.

She knew what he wasn’t saying.

Breaks my heart when you wake up frightened.

I hate that I can’t protect you from it.

Sleep still fogged her thoughts, made her loopy like she’d taken cold meds.

At least that was what she told herself, how she excused what she did next.

Pushing up onto her right hand, Caitlin reached for him. It was tentative, a graze of her fingers over his chest, up to the side of his neck.

Booker froze like a startled animal.

A wolf caught off guard.

He stared down at her, eyes locked on her in the dark. Sitting up as best as she could, Caitlin leaned close, nose brushing over his cheek before tilting up and pressing her lips to his.

Time became elastic, stretching in infinite directions.

Fixed in place, neither of them eased into the kiss for what felt like eternity. Both too shocked, too overwhelmed, too scared of it all being an elaborate hallucination.

And then his lips moved against hers gently, and time snapped back.

Caitlin lunged forward, clutching his face in her hands. She was starved, frantic… A wolf in her own right.

Booker wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her closer. Blindly, he discarded his rifle to the side a safe distance away, right as she crawled into his lap. Knees on either side of his thighs, she kissed him like she was dying.

Maybe she had been. Maybe they both were.

Snaking his hands under the hem of her shirt, he lit sparks all over her skin. Her hips, her back, her ribs—everywhere he touched came alive.

Meanwhile she couldn’t get enough of his mouth.

That smart mouth that had pushed her to the edge so many times, driven her crazy, bickered with her for hours… Now she wanted nothing else but to taste every inch, to memorize each curve, to lose herself when his teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

A moan escaped her, and Booker’s grip tightened on her hips. She answered by grinding down against the growing bulge in his jeans and his breath stuttered.

Ducking down, she dragged her teeth over the tendon in his neck, and the full body shudder he had made her giddy.

His left hand came up under her chin, forcing her mouth back to his. This time he kissed her like he was branding her, and she turned to liquid beneath his touch.

They fumbled with each other’s shirts, yanking at fabric with little finesse. As soon as Booker cupped her breasts over the cotton of her bra, she arched forward like she’d been shocked.

Everything. She wanted everything, all at once.

She didn’t wait for him to attempt to unhook her—she reached back and undid her bra, sliding it off her arms and tossing it somewhere in the Jeep.

“How’s a man supposed to go slow when y’do somethin’ like that, huh?” He mumbled against the corner of her mouth.

Caitlin grinned and brought his hands up to her breasts again. Calloused palms were deliciously rough against sensitive flesh, skilled fingers pinching and tugging. Then his lips were gone from hers, only to find a new home latched on her left nipple, and she gasped sharply.

“Fuck,” she breathed, clutching the back of his head. He groaned against her, making her shiver, and she pulled his hair. He seemed to enjoy that if his tongue was any indicator.

Booker switched sides, making her head swim with how perfect it all was. He knew her, inside and out, could feel her signals even before she did.

Viscerally interconnected.

Without letting her go, Booker started undoing the fly of her jeans, popping the button one handed and tugging the zipper.

His fingers had just brushed the skin below her navel when a spike of something worrisome shot through her. She recoiled slightly, and he stopped everything.

“Too much?” He looked up at her. “We can stop, if—”

“No, no.” She clutched his hand. “I just… The last time I did this was before…”

Before the world ended.

“When I had a shower of my own, access to a razor…” She laughed softly.

Booker’s hand tangled in her hair as he dragged his nose between her breasts, over her collarbone, and up her neck.

“Smell like heaven to me,” he murmured, kissing her pulse point. “As for the razor…” His knuckles skimmed over her lower abdomen, stopping at the elastic of her underwear. “Never did care much for the shaved look.”

He nipped at her ear and she jerked, moaning quietly.

That settled it then.

In a flurry, she slid off him to yank her jeans down her thighs. Booker helped, chuckling at her enthusiasm. When they were off and tossed away, he bent down to kiss up her leg, from knee to hip, licking and teasing her as he went.

He moved along the length of her body, peppering her with kisses and kitten licks, driving her mad with lust.

Pushing at his thick shoulders, she forced him up, much to his confusion until he caught her meaning.

On your back.

He did so without hesitation, hauling her with him as he shifted.

She straddled him with fierce determination, planting her hands on his chest and leaning down to kiss him until he was groaning into her mouth.

Caitlin rocked her hips, egging him on with sweet torture. Booker’s fingertips dug into the meat of her ass and she whimpered as pleasure rolled through her.

“Cae…” His voice was gravel. “C’mere.”

She frowned, unsure of how much closer she could get. And then it clicked.

“Are you… I mean…”

Booker tugged at her hips, guiding her. “God, yes.”

It took a little maneuvering, careful not to knee him in the face, but then he was holding her still with those broad hands on either side of her hip bones.

He nuzzled the inside of her thighs, alternating between kissing and biting until she was choking on each gasp and moan. Sliding his thumb under the elastic, he yanked the center fabric to the side and—

“Oh, fuck,” she cried out, covering her mouth.

He slid his tongue between her folds, tasting thoroughly and groaning against her.

“Jack… Jack,” she panted, scrambling for purchase on the interior of the Jeep.

His moans were almost as desperate as hers. Sucking her clit between his lips, he hummed, and Caitlin saw stars.

“Jack!” She grabbed his hair, fingers twisting, and he nodded against her.

Do what you want.

Take what you need.

Fuck me.

Thrusting her hips, she worked against his tongue, finding a rhythm that left her almost breathless.

Barreling towards climax, she knew she couldn’t be quiet, knew she’d scream like a demon if given half the chance.

Grabbing his wrist, she yanked his hand to her mouth, taking his first three fingers down to the knuckle. Booker groaned, hips twitching involuntarily.

The first wave hit, and Caitlin arched back, cries muffled by his hand.

Her orgasm crashed over her, unrelenting. Booker took delight in eating her through it, burying his face between her thighs.

Releasing his fingers from between her lips, she gasped and tried to pull back.

“Booker, ah, oh God,” she moaned. “I… Can’t…”

Except he was still circling her clit with the tip of his tongue, and before she could try to climb down, she was shattering apart again.

“Jesus Christ, Jack,” she panted, pitching forward.

By the way he wasn’t slowing, he was gunning to give her a third, and she wasn’t sure if her body was aching from need or overstimulation.

He knew though. Knew she could take it, could have it, knew he’d die to feel her come on his tongue again.

Her palm smacked the driver’s seat headrest as she held on for dear life.

Wolf devouring wolf.

Consumed and made whole, all at once.

Caitlin’s voice cracked in half when she came again, nails gouging the upholstery.

Finally, Booker eased back, groaning like he’d been given a straight shot of dopamine.

He held her safely as she moved off him, catching her breath.

“Fuck me.”

Booker chuckled, running his fingers up his chin, collecting what was left dripping down him.

“No, Jack,” she said, waiting for him to look at her. “Fuck me.”

He stared, wide eyed for a split second, before he was rolling on top of her.

Caitlin clutched his face, kissing him deeply. He tasted like her, and it sent a thrill coursing through her.

Booker manhandled her onto her back, gripping her thighs as he slid her where he needed. Hitching her leg around his waist, he ground against her sensitive core, making her moan into his shoulder.

“I’ll try t’go easy,” he murmured into her neck.

She didn’t want easy. Didn’t want gentle.

She wanted to feel brutally alive with him inside her.

And she let him know just as much by digging her nails into his muscled back, scratching hard enough to leave welts.

“Ah, Cae,” he hissed, dropping his head to her sternum.

Placing a kiss there, he sat back just far enough to undo his belt and fly. The second he freed himself, Caitlin’s mouth watered.

Booker groaned, and she glanced up.

“Can’t look at me like that,” he said. “Killin’ me, darlin’.”

She grinned and trailed her hand over the ridgelines of his stomach to the course line of hair leading down from his navel.

“Have to show you what this mouth can do another time,” she said, fingers circling his length. He twitched in her hand and she bloomed with pride.

Leaning forward, Booker kissed her fiercely and grabbed her hips. In an instant he stripped her panties off, tossing them towards the front. Forcing her ass off the Jeep floor, he pulled her closer until she was resting on his thighs, legs spread wide around him.

She was already flushed and shaking with anticipation, and then he nudged at her entrance and she arched her back like a bow.

He took his time opening her up, sliding in inch by inch. When he bottomed out, she gasped and clutched his forearm, nails leaving red crescents deep in his skin.

“Yes, God yes,” she breathed, nodding.

Through half-shut eyes she watched him withdraw only to slam back inside her. His left hand kept her hips where he wanted, while his right reached up, squeezing her breast with just enough pressure to make her moan.

“Cae… Shit,” he grunted as he thrust.

He shook from all his restraint, but she needed more. Dragging her nails over his chest, she silently begged for him to let go.

He obliged.

Hips snapping forward, he picked up the pace until the Jeep was rocking from the force of it.

Alive. They were alive. With all the messy, complicated parts that entailed… They still had air in their lungs, still had heartbeats.

Still had each other.

Caitlin’s walls fluttered, clenching around him as she came with a broken cry.

Booker gripped her thighs hard enough to leave small bruises, and she wanted them all. He fucked her harder, growling as his climax hit, tipping him forward.

Gulping for air, face buried in her hair, Booker slowly came back to himself.

He kissed the hinge of her jaw, nosing her ear and cheek until she giggled.

“Well that’s the best car sex I’ve ever had,” she said, stroking his back.

Booker chuckled, sucking a mark into her neck. “Foldin’ seats are a miracle.”

She laughed again, and he groaned, feeling it from where he was still inside her. After a moment, he withdrew and haphazardly tucked himself back into his jeans, before laying down next to her.

Caitlin rolled to face him, and he offered himself as a pillow.

“Y’cold?” He asked, threading his fingers through her hair.

“You’re kidding right?” She kissed his chest. “Summer in Mississippi. I’ll never be cold again.”

He chuckled again, and she felt the reverberation in her own ribcage.

They laid in silence, listening to the crickets and each other’s breathing.

“Jack…”

He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Yeah.”

This meant something.

This really meant something.

Holding him tight, Caitlin drifted off to sleep with Booker’s heartbeat in her ear.

***

She thought it was a dream. A vivid, intense dream concocted from the potent mix of loneliness, survival, and hormones.

And then she opened her eyes.

She was covered by one of Booker’s plaid shirts, naked underneath, and aching in every way that would indicate she had in fact fucked him in the back of the Jeep.

Booker wasn’t with her though.

Early morning light stung her sensitive eyes as she looked around. She spotted her jeans, shirt; her bra had landed on the dashboard.

Sitting up, she held the shirt to her chest and finger combed her hair. It was the first morning she’d ever woken up without Booker at her side, and it left her with a shaky feeling in her stomach.

“Jack?”

Nothing.

Caitlin pulled the shirt on, buttoning it, and slid out of the Jeep.

His rifle was gone, but everything else was where it should be. Even the few clothes they’d rinsed and left to dry on tree branches were there.

Taking stock of her surroundings, she made a list of things Booker would do, places he’d go, without waking her to tell her he was leaving.

It was a short list.

If he’d been relieving himself in the bushes, he’d have heard her and responded. So that left the pond.

Through the trees and over the slope of grassy hillside, she spotted the water glittering in the sun. The splashes gave him away.

Ducking beneath the surface, he popped back up, flinging his wet hair and scrubbing his face. He was waist deep, and from what she could tell, totally nude.

Being barefoot gave her a silent advantage, and she used it, sneaking closer to the bank and sitting down next to his clothes and rifle.

She didn’t get many opportunities to see him just… be. Not planning their route, watching for roaming Geeks, scavenging for supplies. Just being.

It felt vulnerable to her in a way she’d long thought couldn’t exist in a broken world.

She’d never been happier to be wrong.

Hugging her knees to her chest, she smiled as she waited for him to notice her.

She knew the second he did—Hand stilling as he washed his arm, head tilting just enough to spot her on the grass.

“You peepin’ on me now?” He asked, grinning.

“Maybe a little.”

Turning slowly in the water, his gaze raked over her bare legs. “How ‘bout you get in here and join me?”

“Somebody’s gotta keep watch.”

He always looked after her. Always put her safety ahead of his own. She would have done anything to return that favor, if only for a morning.

“Sayin’ I can’t multitask?”

She rolled her eyes, smile still playing at her lips. “We both know you struggle with that one.”

Wading over, his stare was predatory, but she’d never felt safer.

Gently grabbing her ankles, he pulled until her legs stretched out. She was considerably fairer skinned than he was, especially since her legs hadn’t seen daylight in two months. Wet fingers trailed over her, playing a subtle game of connect the dots with her freckles and the love bites and stubble burn he’d left on the inside of her thighs.

Rubbing his thumb over the darkest of the bruises, he glanced up at her face.

“Y’alright?”

Does it hurt?

Do you regret it?

Are we…

She cupped his jaw, brushing the corner of his mouth with her thumb, and smiled.

“Yeah.” In the sun she could see the red lines her nails had left on his shoulders and over his left pectoral. They’d marked each other.

She locked eyes with him. “You weren’t in the Jeep when I woke up.”

“You were out like a light,” he said, arching into her touch. “Didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“You should’ve.” Her fingers toyed with the wet hair by his ear. “I was worried.”

His calloused palm skimmed up her thigh, disappearing beneath the hem of her borrowed shirt.

“’M sorry, songbird,” he murmured, kissing her wrist. “Y’gonna let me make it up to ya?”

She grinned and started undoing the few buttons she’d fastened.

Gripping her calves, he tugged her closer until her feet were in the water. “Knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“My shirt looks damn fine on you, darlin’.”

Her giggle was muffled by him leaning up to kiss her.

They had to go slow, as she was still sore, but she didn’t care. Especially when Booker was finally in her, drawing in and out languidly, making her moan each time he hit that perfect spot.

And then he pulled her leg up over his shoulder, and she was choking on a gasp.

“Beautiful, Cae,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the inside of her knee. “So beautiful.”

“Jack…” She clawed at the grass, at his bicep, desperate to hold onto something. “I’m…”

“That’s it.”

“Oh God.” She came with blinding intensity, arching her back and tossing her head against the bank of the pond.

He followed moments later, groaning her name.

Those few seconds of stillness were the closest to peace either of them had felt in months.

Dwelling in satisfaction, Caitlin stretched her legs, letting her feet submerge in the cool water. Letting her eyes close, she sighed, only to get yanked even closer to the edge of the pond by a grinning Booker. He caught her before she slid in the mud, hoisting her up and gently settling her into the water waist-deep.

Booker helped her get cleaned up, washing her hair for her and trailing kisses over the back of her neck. When he cupped her breast as she rinsed, she playfully splashed water in his face, making him laugh. They chased each other around the pond like it was their own Eden.

They’d already begun to feel like the only people on earth.

When they dried off and started back towards the Jeep, Booker handed her his plaid shirt back.

“Looks better on you,” he said, kissing her.

She waited until he wasn’t looking to bring it to her nose, breathing in his scent.

They planned as they ate.

Head to one of the highways they’d seen packed with abandoned cars, siphon as much gas as they could, scavenge food, clothes, and supplies, and start north. They’d mapped out several alternate routes in their days after leaving Alabama. If one was blocked, they had other ways to get around.

If they stuck to a strict schedule, rationed their food, and were able to find fuel along the way, they could be in New York by the end of the week.

Caitlin started to tremble. Hope… They had hope.

She might see her friends again.

#Bloody Sunrise #free fiction #free novels for pandemic times #NSF....W?#listen this is THE chapter if you catch my drift soooooo ya know go forth and enjoy #my work #ZA romance #zombie apocalypse romance

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