Pratt doesn’t seem to mind. All the hides are around the same size so they’re larger on her smaller frame, shielding more of her body. I wish it was the same for Mae and I; it’s almost like we’re walking around in our underwear—our extremely skimpy underwear. And it’s not like we can ask for something different. This is what Vix was given for us to wear—it’s what she’s wearing. There is no way we can come out in anything else.
“Fallon…” Mae’s voice shakes as she glances over herself with fear. “It’s too…”
“I know,” I tug on the short end of the skirt, which rises higher up my thigh.
“I feel naked.”
“You will get use to it,” Vix says, “but the others will be wearing the same. No one will be looking at you.”
“Except the boys,” Mae struggles with her top. “I don’t want them seeing me like this. I feel exposed.”
“Come,” Vix motions for her to take a seat on the bed, “sit. I must prepare your hair.”
“How?”
“Zingfinolds prefer it with plaits,” she indicates Mae to sit again. Once she does, Vix runs her fingers through Mae’s short black bob. “I will give you two small ones joining at the crown of your head here. See? Just two. “
“Okay.”
Vix gets to work, pulling the front side sections of Mae’s black hair back and into one long braid down the center. Once she’s finished, she has Pratt sit and does the same, but incorporates several mini plaits into the overall design. Finally, she has me sit, fluffing my curly hair for a minute.
“Very beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“This will be a challenge,” she handles a section of curls on either side of my face, right up near my eyes. “I can do something similar as with Mae. Plait it here,” she pulls them to the crown of my head, “and down the back.”
“That’s fine.”
As she works, the sky dims to a dark blue and finally, to a solid, charcoal black. The fireflies light up Vix’s tiny home, warming it in rosy shades as Mae struggles with her top behind me, adjusting it every few minutes. I’m dying to do the same but Vix has already scolded me for moving so I stay still, praying my top doesn’t just bust right open.
“Why are they so small?”
“What?”
“Our clothes,” I say, itching to cover myself.
“The Zingfinolds are a simple people,” she tugs the braid, tightening it. “They believe in the beauty of their bodies.”
“If that’s the case, why even bother with clothes?”
“It is a sign of civilization. Achievement,” she takes a deep breath. “You see, the Zingfinolds descend from Nerwos, the original inhabitants of Nerwolix. A very long time ago, before King Thias sat on the throne, a few believed in a freer government, a society without classes or stature. Once they voiced these beliefs, they were cast out immediately, naked and without food, told to survive on their ideals. They were expected to die in a fortnight,” Vix pauses, her hand still on my braid. “They did not. They migrated all the way here and on the first night conquered the Horrop. They clothed themselves with its skin and fed themselves with its meat. Once word made it back of their survival, many more Nerwos seceded. Together they rejected their previous identities, forming a new colony that ranked each other as equals. They chose to call themselves Zingfinolds—it means brother of brother, one of one.”
“But they have a king,” Pratt frowns. “How is that equal?”
“Even equals need a leader,” Vix works the braid down below my shoulders. “Hozfin is their chosen guide. Once he passes, they will elect a new leader, someone to keep peace and order, someone to continue guidance.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“The Zingfinolds don the hide of the Horrop as a reminder of all they conquered. Strength—the ability to recognize and voice their ideals. Diligence—the ability to keep going, keep fighting with nothing. And bravery—the ability to withhold mercy on their weakness and fear, to do what they must for those ideals.”
“But still…” Mae tugs at her top again, “so skimpy?”
“It is the way of the Zingfinold and so, we must honor it. There,” Vix releases my hair. “All done.”
Standing, I run a hand down the back of my curls, my fingertips brushing over the plait in the center. “Thank you.”
“It it time we leave and meet the others,” she points toward the red curtain, Pratt taking the lead. Mae still pulls at her skirt and I follow behind, trying not to tug at my own. Vix indicates to the narrow tree on the other side of the downward slanting bridge. “This will be a celebration on the ground.”
Once we’ve descended the carved stairwell in the hollow of a trunk, we arrive on the forest base and find it already packed with tribesmen. Bone lanterns hoist up jars of the brightly glowing fireflies in a giant circular perimeter, illuminating the night in a soft yellow glow. Red and black drums have been brought down and a handful of tribesmen sit over them, playing a fast paced melody that blends into the vibrant energy.
Perry stands in the center of a group of young Zingfinolds while the Rogues situate themselves nearby, all huddled around Tucker, who seems well rested. Donned in longer hides that hang from their hips down to their knees, they’re all laughing over a story Able is telling. They don’t notice as we make our way over until one by one, each looks up, eyes wide and jaws dropping. Jace jabs Reid in his ribs, distracting him from a laugh but once he finds me, his smile vanishes.
Able’s brows shoot up too, his eyes flickering over Mae who silently shakes next to me. “Yowza!”
Reid gulps, scanning my body.
“Why do you guys get to wear more than us?” I motion to Jace’s bottoms.
“Technically,” Able says, “I think we’re wearing less.”
“You have less to hide.”
“You shouldn’t have to hide any of that,” Jace strokes his chin as Reid jabs him back in the ribs. “Sorry, Boss. It’s kind of hard not to—”
“Go splash some cold water on yourself.”
“S-sure thing, Rox,” Jace reluctantly pulls the others away with him, leaving Reid with Pratt, Mae, Vix and me.
He barely glances at the other three, keeping his focus on me. Gulping, he clears his throat. “You look… good.”
“Not too exposed?”
He rubs the back of his neck with a shy grin. “I don’t mind.”
“Did Sampson and Walker collect all the Nazual we need?” Pratt asks.
“Yeah,” Reid tears his eyes away for the first time. “Got about three bushes. Should be more than enough.”
“Do we need that many?” Mae asks.
“Not really sure. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“I fully agree,” Sampson interjects, Clarence on his heels. “One bud should do it and we’ve collected about eighty of them. I feel safe in saying we have more than enough to turn Mybyncia around in no time.”
“Why so many?” Pratt asks.
“In case this happens again. Chancellor Keller should have a generous supply should this toxin find its way into their waters again.”
“Do you think they’ll repay you for this?”
“Repay us,” Clarence corrects, gesturing towards Tucker and the other Rogues on their way back. “Repay Tucker most importantly.”
“And they’ll repay with aiding us in the upcoming months,” Sampson adds just as the rest join.
“So uh…” Jace rubs his hands together, “when are we going to eat?”
“And drink?” Werzo asks.
“They’ll be bringing out the cooked Horrop here in a minute,” Clarence glances over his shoulder. “Have as much as you want. This is a celebration,” he squeezes Tucker’s shoulder, “since we’ll be leaving for Mybyncia tomorrow.”
“Well…” Pratt sighs with a glance at Mae. “Not all of us.”
“What do you mean?” I frown, eyeing her, Mae and Tucker. I know that since he’s a Zingfinold now, he’ll be req
uired to stay… but what does Pratt mean?
“We’ve…” Sampson sighs, “…spoken to Hozfin. He’s willing to allow Tucker to accompany us back… in exchange for retaining Mae and Pratt.”
“What?” I gasp, unable to believe my ears. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Clarence shakes his head, quick to diminish any doubt, “nothing terrible at all. We’ll be returning here with Blovid as soon as Qippert takes us to him. We feel at this stage… Tucker would better assist us in this pursuit while the girls could… use the time to get more comfortable here.”
“But…”
“And Perry and Walker will still stay behind,” Sampson adds. “Mae and Pratt won’t be alone.”
“Hozfin wanted you as well,” Clarence nods, glancing to Reid. “But we knew that was… unrealistic.”
Is it right what they’re doing? Swapping off two girls for a Rogue Leader? Or are Sampson and Clarence just doing what they feel is smartest overall?
“Come,” Clarence throws his arm over Tucker’s shoulder, “it’s time for celebrating. No more talk of this.”
A group of tribesmen carry out the cooked Horrop on a long wooden slab, both fangs removed and the remaining legs surrounding the body like a garnish. The sweet, barbecue smell drifts over, invading my nose and instantly sparking a deep-rooted hunger in my stomach.
“Good,” Jace’s stomach rumbles with agreement. “I’m famished.”
The tribesmen set down the deceased beast in the center of the clearing, exchanging places with Hozfin and Warze who approach slowly. Everyone silences as the king lifts his arms.
“Zingfinolds,” he projects his voice, which echoes into the dark trees. “Brother of brother. Tonight, new brother join us. Tucker proves himself of strength, diligence, bravery. Tonight, he be Zingfinold.”
A loud cheering erupts, drums sounding off in the background.
“Tucker,” the king indicates to him with an outstretched arm, “you eat first.”
“Go on,” Clarence nudges him forward.
Tucker walks forward with a confident stride, a huge, proud grin painted across his face. As he approaches, King Hozfin retreats a step, gesturing to the giant cooked Horrop. Pulling a small blade from somewhere, Tucker leans in, carving through the red and black skin to remove a hearty chunk. He holds it up so all can see and, without wasting a second, brings the steaming flesh to his mouth. More cheering erupts as he continues chewing and once it’s all gone, he brings the back of his hand across his lips, cleaning off the remaining juices.
“Good,” I hear Jace whisper to Able. “Does that mean we can eat now?”
“You’ll get your turn,” Clarence sighs. “Calm down.”
“I’m just hungry.”
“Me too,” Werzo adds, “and that beast smells delicious.”
“It smells like barbecue,” Jace licks his lips. “I love barbecue.”
“Alright,” Clarence sighs again, “since we’re his guests, we can go up now.”
“Thank God,” Jace swears, following behind Sampson who leads our group up to the steaming red and black Horrop.
We each take turns carving a handful of the tender meat for ourselves before a crew of females does the same, distributing the sections to the rest of the tribe. We’re given seconds and thirds if we want—which most of the Rogues have no problem declining—but Pratt, Mae and I stick with our handful and a half, allowing the tender, flavored meat to fill our stomachs.
Once more than half of the Horrop has been eaten, some Zingfinolds use the time socially, laughing and conversing in their native tongue while the others begin dancing to the rhythmic pounding of the drums echoing around us. Perry has situated herself in the midst of a thriving male-oriented gathering while other females look on with jealousy. Pratt and Mae quietly gossip to themselves and occasionally with Able, who has to pry himself away from joking with the Rogues and Clarence. Vix and Sampson converse nearby, but never with the same enthusiasm or joy. No doubt discussing the war.
I’ve been walking around, stopping to talk with everyone until some tribesman offers me a beverage in a cup made from a rounded green fruit. It’s sweet and compliments the spice of the Horrop and I’ve already downed the lot of it. I’m on my way back to find the tribesman—or Sampson—someone who can refill whatever this delicious concoction is, when I’m sidetracked by a body blocking me. A little woozy from the drink, I nearly scream until I notice that reddish hair and dimpled smile gazing down at me.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Fire
“Walker…” I place my hand over my racing heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Never my intention,” his grin turns into a laugh, his eyes dropping to my hands. “What have you got there?”
“No idea,” I focus on the empty green container. With a smile I hold it out to him. “But I’d like some more, please.”
“Anything you want, baby. Come on,” he gestures me to follow. “I’ll fill it up.”
“Thanks.”
“So…” he leads us toward the other side of the clearing, just past the drumming, “you enjoying yourself?”
“The Zingfinolds know how to throw a party.”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “That’s what I thought after my victory.”
“I don’t know how you and Tucker did it… must’ve been terrifying.”
“Living on Harrizel wasn’t any better.”
“But you were secure,” I keep to his side. “Most guys were.”
“Doesn’t mean it was a picnic. Every day, having to charm this girl or that. Kings always threatening to take your food away if you don’t fuck the girl they want. Sorry,” he suddenly blanches.
“So the Kings hired you to have sex?”
“Well…” he scratches his head. “Uh… other things too.”
“Like what?”
“Well…” he scans the ground, “…probably best left in the past. We’re never going back. But you are,” he looks up with a frown. “Tomorrow right?”
“To Mybyncia…” I nod, “and only for a little bit. Pratt and Mae are staying here.”
A long minute goes by before he speaks in a near mumble, “…But you’re not.”
I blush.
“Sorry,” he shakes his head. “I know you’re with him. I respect it even if you don’t think I do. I know what you must think of me… of what I did. But…” he exhales, pacing around, “…on Harrizel, we all had to do what we had to do. I’m not saying I was right but—”
“Why did you do it?”
He stops, exhaling with a loud gruff. “Does it matter? You’ll still hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I just don’t understand why you’d—”
“It’s what I’ve been telling you,” he exhales again. “Preservation.”
I frown, letting his meaning settle in. Walker doesn’t seem like a terrible guy, so why would he repeatedly sleep with a girl he knew was with someone else? “You had to?”
He inhales.
“Fallon…” Able rushes up to us, “…you’re not really putting our plan in motion here.”
“What plan?” Walker looks between us.
“Oh crap,” I glance around. “Where is he?”
“Christ, not again…”
“Yeah,” Able gulps, “it’s probably best you two don’t pair off together.”
“I told you, I’m allowed to be friends with whoever I want. If he’s got a problem—”
“He does. A big problem. Fallon,” Able looks to me, pleading. “You’re supposed to be helping here!”
“It was just a two minute walk.”
“And that’s two minutes too long for him. He sees red when he sees Walker.”
“I know, I know,” I nod, looking to him. “Able’s right. For right now, it’s probably best we don’t…”
“If you were my girl, I’d let you talk to whoever you wanted.”
“She’s not,” Reid growls behind me. My heart skips as I step back and find his rigid
form, solid and feral, like it’s taking everything he has not to kill Walker. Both fists hang down by his sides, his eyes narrowed into sharp, deadly slits. Jace, Tucker, Booker and Werzo surround him, ready to throw themselves between, but Reid doesn’t move.
“Oh hey there, Rox,” Walker rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Wondering when you’d show up.”
“Fallon?” Reid redirects his intense focus to me. He holds his hand out. “Talk to you for a sec?”
“Come on,” Walker scoffs as leans against a tree. He crosses his arms, “She’s a big girl. You can let her off her leash a little.”
“Not talking to you, asshole.”
“Aw, and I was hoping you would.”
“Fallon?” Reid tries again, his voice a pinch higher.
“Maybe she likes talking to me,” Walker grins. “Ever think of that?”
Reid turns to Walker with a lethal glare. He folds his arms, his entire body stiffening. “Maybe she’s being nice. Ever think of that?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Reid’s eyes grow hooded.
“In fact,” Walker winks at me, “I have no problem with any niceties she might throw my way.”
Jace, Tucker, Werzo, Booker and Able all tense because like me, they think this is it—the moment when finally Reid looses it and launches himself at Walker. But instead, he merely inhales, his hands balling into fists on either side of his chest. “Hey, how’s your nose feeling?”
Walker’s confident smile turns down.
“Thought so,” Reid turns to me, offering his hand again. “Quick talk?”
“Sure…” I take it, allowing him to lead me away but not before tossing a wide-eyed look at Able. He mirrors my worried expression, thankful it didn’t go the other way—with Walker dead and Reid condemned by the Zingfinolds.
When we’re a few minute’s walk from the scene, and a bit outside the perimeter of firefly light, Reid turns to me. “Sorry about that. And earlier. That guy,” he shakes his head, running his hand through his hair, “I can’t stand that guy. Arrogant motherfucker,” he paces for a moment, finally looking up. “I didn’t mean to snap earlier. He just gets under my skin and I’m afraid that…” he pauses as he hooks his hands on his hips. With a deep exhale, Reid locks eyes with me. “I’m sorry.”
Plague of Mybyncia Page 35