"Sometimes," he continued, his voice quieter still. "Sometimes your family goes a way you don't understand. And you see things that don't quite work. But you know that they are far more clever than you. And that there are things you don't understand. No matter how much you want to. And it seems as if the harder you look, the less it makes sense."
Her eyes widened. "You don't like the plan to take over the Tue-Rahs and the worlds either?"
He grimaced and cast a look around the camp. Everyone still slept. The light had turned grey-white on the horizon just between the tree branches. "There are things which just are beyond my comprehension. Matters were getting bad. The carnage, the loss, the sorrow, the threats. It was terrifying. And it couldn't continue, but—"
A chorus of reptilian voices rose as the wind strengthened. Similar to songbirds but wilder and with less variety, a combination of sparrow and hoarse robin song with the occasional heron-like screech.
QueQoa rubbed the back of his neck. "The hardest thing in dealing with gods is that they make their own rules. They are what they are. Their understanding of time is different from ours. Of sorrow and loss as well. And so much of it is not clear. Elonumato supposedly had a plan. There was some deeper threat brewing. Something had to be done. But—I don't know what the right thing was. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Maybe in the end it doesn't matter."
He shook his head. "If anyone can find a way, it's them. But if the Tue-Rah could be used to take us back in time, why would we go back to where we were? Why not go back and save Rasha? Save Mara and the children? Where would we stop?"
That thought had crossed her mind as well. "You think it's too good to be true."
"It would open many choices. Hard choices." A heavy sigh dropped his shoulders. "If I could use it to go back and save my parents, my brothers and sisters, why wouldn't I? But who would I become? And does this mean I am so attached to who I am that I would water the roses of this reality with the blood of those who came before me?"
She lowered her canteen as she listened to him.
"It's a great deal to consider," he continued. "And then you feel that you are being disloyal to your living family whom you love more than your own spirit. But you know that if you have the option, you must consider it. Except you also have to know that there are thousands of other things that might be changed. It wouldn't be a single timeline to consider. We could do so much. And because we could do so much, we have to realize that others would also want to do the same. And how will those people, if saved, feel if they are ripped out of Elonumato's Land, torn from heaven? They say that you cannot be forced to leave that place once you pass through the gates. Not unless you wish to go. So does that mean that if we reset the timelines that they never experienced anything there or that they exist as golems or soulless among us once time is rolled back?"
"Shrieking moons, QueQoa, why do you have to get philosophical before the sun's up?"
Amelia turned, surprised to see WroOth awake.
QueQoa's brow tweaked with concern. "Why are you up? It isn't even dawn."
WroOth stumbled to the logs and sat heavily. He waved his hand casually. "Too much to do. End of worlds. End of time. Whatever, sleep can wait."
"Are you feeling all right?" Amelia asked. He looked more like his usual self though the haunted horror remained behind his eyes.
"Well enough." He flashed her a smile that didn't fully reach his eyes. "So far as timelines and the Tue-Rah goes, we'll figure that out if we even have a Tue-Rah to use. But we're a long way from Darmoste." He took a long drink from his canteen. Setting it aside, he then pointed at her. "We're training this morning."
"We are?"
"As soon as I can see straight." WroOth took another drink. "Also, you little vespyr, I told you to wake me when you wanted to sleep. There aren't any cliffs here for me to throw you off, so we'll get to that later. But there's plenty we can work on until then."
* * *
Naatos opened his eyes, aware that Amelia was gone at once. She'd left her dolmath in her place. A poor though happy substitute. Ticky—Tacky, whatever she called it, kneaded his chest with its furry forelegs, chirring contentedly.
He set the dolmath aside as he sat up. Apparently the night wasn't the only thing that was odd.
WroOth had Amelia in the middle of the camp, sparring. The sun was barely up. He scowled as he stood.
"Careful," AaQar cautioned from the near side of the circle. "If you break her arm, you'll be done for the morning. Amelia, you're holding too much tension on your right side."
Naatos continued to frown as he assessed this development. Of his brothers, QueQoa was best for training those who wanted to learn in a hands-on but gradual fashion, AaQar for those who wanted to learn just as much about the theory, philosophy, and overarching principles as the movements, strikes, and counters, and WroOth for those who just wanted to learn through experience. Though he could be intense and chaotic in his manner, he understood limits. On good and average days, he tailored the level of his attacks to the student.
This was not a good day.
An edge of desperation lined every strike and counter WroOth took.
Right now, he sparred with Amelia in a fashion more like his kuvasteing with one of his brothers, which was good for honing her reflexes. Bad for the times when he clipped her or sent her sprawling hard. This method he was using was more like the one Naatos used for upending young shifters who didn't understand their limits.
Pain wasn't bad, but it was better if it served a purpose.
Unless the purpose was to make sure she understood how to take a blow, how to endure through pain. But no… WroOth's attacks were too ragged for that to be the case.
The fact that she just kept taking it and not complaining or crying out wasn't ideal either. Which was probably why AaQar or QueQoa were watching intently, ready to intervene in case it went too far.
"How worried are you?" he asked when he reached AaQar. QueQoa watched on the opposite side by the river.
AaQar canted his head and released a long slow breath. "Enough to not want to leave them alone but not enough to intervene. She wants to learn. And she will. Quickly in fact. Just with a lot more bruises. But she keeps getting up. If she tells him to stop and he doesn't, then I'll step in."
She was the sort that would get up as long as there was a shred of strength or will in her. Admirable usually. Not always wise.
"You'll be able to heal her if this gets out of hand?" AaQar continued.
He nodded. "As long as there's no venom."
"He isn't in a venom mood." AaQar glanced at him sidelong. "How are you handling this waiting?"
Naatos shrugged. Everything hurt. Everything ached. Everything throbbed. But it was not as bad as he had expected. That point startled him. Not that he wanted matters to be worse. But all of the difficulties from not vestoving should have been much worse based on what he had been told. "It's manageable. Surprisingly manageable."
"You were only a few seconds slower in going after WroOth. Better than I expected of you at this point. The same with the attacks. You aren't quite as fast, but you're still fast. Few more gaps in the flow and the transitions than usual. But still…"
He nodded. Some of it was simple. Even if Amelia slowed him ten times from his usual rate, that still meant he was shifting into completed forms within seconds. That could be deadly out here, but not always. Holding the form was where it got trickier. Especially if his thoughts drifted certain ways while he was shifted. He still didn't feel comfortable risking flight around her.
"The fact that you aren't going insane unnerves you, doesn't it?"
"Unnerves. Unsettles. Undoes. Whatever you like. It's just troubling for other reasons. So far as all of this tension, it all takes far more focus now. More energy. But that's not what we were told."
"I know. I was concerned you'd be courting madness at this point and having to take more extreme measures to keep yourself grounded."
Those thoughts had
occurred to him as well. Some truly abominable things had been justified based on that belief regarding Vawtrians in general. It formed the entire basis of the Accords. Wars had been started over these mating rituals and the refusal to wait. For years he had heard that it was maddening to go without vestoving after a Vawtrian locked. That that initial intercourse was essential for balancing out the energies and finalizing the connection. To deny it was to invite suffering, insanity, and agony. He hadn't really expected to go utterly mad, but he'd expected to be clinging to that sanity by his fingernails with far worse pain. And while his situation could indeed worsen, he doubted it would ever reach the depths proclaimed in every Vawtrian tale and myth he had ever encountered.
Strangely, he felt calmer now contemplating the end of the eight weeks than he did when it had first been proposed. Perhaps that was madness.
The flare of desire only intensified when he contemplated it or her and the luxurious way that her body invited him. Except that invitation didn't extend to her will yet. Until she wanted him and admitted that she wanted him and that now was the time, it might as well be nonexistent.
Except for that lure and promise.
He closed his eyes, rolling back through the memory of her pressed against him. Soft, warm. Not inviting yet. But close.
How much longer? The eight weeks were drawing to a close. Why focus on that though? He'd told her to take as much time as she needed.
He grimaced internally at the thought of this dragging longer.
If he believed in any merciful god, he might have made a petition. What exactly to ask? She wanted him. It was so obvious. The scent coming off her. Having to wait when his veskaro wanted him and he wanted her, but she wasn't ready? Heal her from the mind shade. Make it safe to vestov. Let her trust that things that felt good could be good. Keep her in his bed at least one full night a week.
"You're going to make it," AaQar said, his gaze fixed on Amelia and WroOth. She'd just skidded along the ground and scraped up her knee, but she was up and around the log before WroOth could pounce. "This is not the way I expected any of this to play out."
"You didn't want me to be with her at all."
AaQar smiled slightly. "Not at all. You two are—" He lifted his shoulders. "It's not that it can't be good. But there's a lot to work through." He sighed. "She isn't going to let the Tue-Rah or the worlds go, you know. She's more obsessed with it than you are."
He grunted, not pleased with that. She'd looked at him so hopefully when he'd said he might give them up. And—he loved seeing her happy. It happened rarely enough. But the way those big dark eyes of hers lit up with hope. It was unfortunately compelling.
If only she'd just forget about it all.
That was about as likely as WroOth not flipping her head over heels into that hammock. Which, as she sailed through the air, she caught the thick band of cloth and swung violently. At least she'd hung it carefully enough that it didn't strike the trunk.
"Too slow." WroOth dragged her out.
She glared at him, one eye swelled shut. "Put me back on the ground, and I'll show you how fast I can be."
"You do that." He did as she asked, then stepped back.
Naatos frowned as he glanced between WroOth and Amelia. In addition to the black eye, she had a good deal of swelling along her cheek and temple. The corner of her mouth trickled blood, and a large purple-blue bruise wrapped around her forearm. Blood streaked down her leg along with a series of small cuts. Her right side wasn't just tight. She had been favoring her left and overcompensating.
None of the injuries were dangerous. But WroOth hadn't even appraised her. That wild glint hadn't dimmed either. "Training's over."
WroOth struck his hand in the direction of the rising sun. "We still have two hours before we must leave. We can—"
AaQar was already beside WroOth, arm around his shoulders as he spoke to him in a hushed tone.
Amelia watched them curiously as she set her hands on her waist.
"You all right?" Naatos stopped in front of her, evaluating the marks. She still wasn't putting all of her weight on that heel.
"Yeah. He's right though. I'm too slow." She still panted. Something was bothering her. Her fingers twisted against her hip. "But I'll get faster."
"Are you in pain?"
She pressed her lips in a tight line and offered a faint smile. "I'm fine. It's nothing serious. You don't need to worry about healing me. I know you've got to be running low on energy."
"I'm healing you regardless. I'm more curious where you're hurting and why."
"Um. I'm out of shape. And small. And slow."
He didn't even need to see the red in her eyes to know she was lying. And scared. He stared at her.
She finally looked back up at him. "I'm not sure what's going on. I feel off. Like I can't get my breath or pull something into focus. I'm forgetting something important."
"Like telling WroOth to take it easy on you?"
She frowned, confusion lining her face. "Why would I tell him to take it easy on me? I'm trying to learn. And someone is coming for me. If I can't take a few punches, then I'm in a lot of trouble. And why are you of all people worried about him landing blows?"
He drew her arm out to examine the welting. "Yes, what a horrible thing this is," he said dryly. "Me, your veskare, worried about you being hurt needlessly. I am obviously in the wrong here."
A smile pulled at her bruised mouth. "I'm not mad at you. I was just surprised that you would be worried about that. This isn't much more intense than usual. I guess maybe you haven't seen the others. There isn't any suphrite this time."
"WroOth is always this rough with you?" He raised an eyebrow. Sticking around to watch her train usually resulted in his thoughts drifting places that were best not considered for now. But he expected WroOth to show more care.
"He isn't rough with me. I mean, yes, today was more intense. And first thing in the morning, which was strange. He wouldn't let QueQoa do anything. And he had a lot to say. Really he's worried." She rubbed her shoulder. "It was a fair bit harder, but it was time to increase the challenge anyway. I've done worse to myself."
"Neither comforting nor encouraging." The energy sputtered and fought him, uneven in its channeling. But it was enough. The swelling went down, and the bruising vanished first from her arm and then extended throughout her. The wavering tendrils warned him that there had been some internal damage as well. Swelling. Bleeding. Fixed now. She could take a hit or ten. That was clear.
"Thank you." She smiled as she fluttered her fingers and then stepped back. It was that soft smile that reached her gorgeous dark eyes and lit up all those shades of brown, a smile which unfortunately weakened his core. "I was fine with making the trek without it you know."
"And you would have slowed us down."
She tilted her head as if in contemplation, then shook it. "Nope. All those animal attacks are what slow us down. And since you all are so fast in your shifting and your pouncing, I could actually get some reading done."
"You could."
"I definitely could." She backed away, her face much clearer and brighter now with only a few flecks of dried blood remaining. "Oh, and I closed the doors."
"What doors?" He frowned.
Pausing, she dipped her head. "The ones I opened in my mindreading. Or maybe I dreamed about it. I don't even know why I said that. I don't remember closing any doors." Her hand dropped to her bracelet. She flicked at it and scraped her fingers underneath, her focus somewhere else entirely. "I don't—oh, I don't like that. No. No."
"Amelia." He frowned.
She kept walking, shaking her head. "No."
"Amelia." He caught her by the arm. She looked up at him, startled as if she hadn't been aware he was there. "What's wrong?"
She blinked. "Nothing. I just can't remember my dreams last night, and I think I should have."
"Not all dreams are meant to be remembered, veskaro. Some become clearer with time. Is the bracelet bothering yo
u?"
"No. I don't want to go to Dry Deep though."
"We aren't going to Dry Deep," he said slowly. "We're continuing toward Darmoste. We'll go around Dry Deep."
She winced, then rubbed her stomach. "I think I need some tea." Stepping away, she returned to the fire and her canteen of tea. She'd been drinking significantly more of that these days. He'd need to find more herbs. Her store had to be rather low at this point. Perhaps that was the reason for her nausea.
Proteus nudged her. As she turned, he dropped his trunk into the canteen.
"Hey, hey." She took his snout and lifted it away as easily as if there weren't a mass of teeth hidden inside. "Not for you."
Proteus lowed, the loud sound a clear indicator of discontent though not hunger. She shook her head at him and then picked up one of the spares. "You can drink out of this one."
"He doesn't need a canteen, Amelia." Naatos sighed. Bavrils didn't even need to drink that much if they drained enough corpses. This one just drank out of it because Amelia let him and gave him more attention.
"No, but he likes drinking out of one. And we have extras." She unscrewed the lid and offered it to him. The bavril grunted and then slurped the contents enthusiastically. Within a few seconds, he finished it. The quizzical look the bavril gave her was all but a demand.
She dipped the canteen back into the river and then offered him seconds.
Head tilted, QueQoa approached Proteus. He then took hold of the bavril's grey and white mane and gave a light tug to signal him to follow. The bavril whooshed an intrigued breath but obeyed as QueQoa led him to the river's edge just a few feet away. "Here. It's faster. More efficient."
Proteus scrunched his trunk, then continued to drink out of the canteen.
"It's not about what's faster." Amelia kissed the bavril between the eyes. "Big beautiful darling just wants attention."
The bavril harrumphed, then trilled.
They were never going to be able to get rid of that creature. So much for a simple beast of burden.
Whatever unease had plagued her earlier seemed to have vanished as she busied herself with the bavril. It still bothered Naatos though.
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