Chapter 30 – Calm Before the Meeting
Light spilled through the shutters. I stirred, twisting the sheets around me. Executing the classic blanket burrito maneuver.
“Let me sleep a little longer,” I groaned, pulling a pillow over my head.
“I’ll let you sleep but”–someone sat on the edge of the bed–“do you want me to get breakfast for us?”
A soft voice. Slightly scratchy. An ultra-rare Windthrow morning voice. Usually, he was gone when I woke up.
Last night we’d really done it. Done it. I sat up in bed, still nude from the waist up. What’s the point of being embarrassed now?
My gaze was drawn to Windthrow, he was pulling his tunic on. I caught a glimpse of some small scratches on his dark-skinned back, not deep enough to break the skin. Like a wild animal had tried clinging to him. The same wild animal had apparently attacked our bed.
Okay–the scratches and everything else were my doing.
Huge vertical slices ran through the mattress, handfuls of straw bursting through. Each slice was positioned where a person’s feet would be, if they laid on their back, with their knees up–more confirmation that it was my doing. Windthrow had already grabbed a broom and swept much of the mess that spilled onto the floor. It leaned in the corner of the room. Probably the weirdest evidence of the previous night's lovemaking.
Jokes aside, this mess…was a problem. Both of us needed to figure out a way to safely “be with one another”. That reminded me! The tea from Lancet–I’d need to drink it this morning!
My mate finished dressing. He stood by the door, with a wide sleepy smile. Focusing–specifically on my chest–as if he wanted to jump on me for Round 2.
“So, mind if I bring back breakfast for us?” he asked. “Oh, and I can fill in for you at the rotational job meeting this morning.”
“Thanks! Can you get me some meat. Uncooked. Oh! And hot water, for tea!”
Either my request for hot water, or for meat, caused Windthrow’s eyes to narrow.
He shrugged. “Sure, it might be an hour though.”
“No problem!” I lounged back. “Wake me when you get back~”
Windthrow nodded, and closed the door behind him. Wow, having an attentive mate was awesome! Or boyfriend. Whatever.
I exhaled, closing my eyes. My body was sore, and the scales on my back were itching again–really needed to ask Windthrow to take a look at those.
“Hey Vylet!”
I almost fell out of bed–I didn’t even know I’d fallen asleep!
Windthrow was halfway through the door, holding a small wooden platter. My nostrils flared. Juicy, gamey. The metallic scent of blood. Fresh meat!
“You look hungry,” he said. “So get dressed and join me on the veranda to eat.”
“Okay~”
I pulled on my wraps and threw on my green-gold cloak. The blunt end of a single claw was sufficient for detangling my hair. Without a mirror, I had to trust that this routine was good enough. The smell of meat led me outside.
A wall of humid air hit me as I stepped out. On a day like this the lake would be busy with swimmers trying to cool off.
Our two meals couldn’t be more different. A salad for him, forest greens with mushrooms. Slab of raw meat for me, with cooked eggs on the side. The yolk was a lovely neon yellow. Altogether, this looked like the best breakfast I’d had in a long time.
Windthrow skewered a grilled mushroom. “I have good news for you, and some bad news.”
“Good news first.” I pulled up a seat and started cutting the meat into small pieces.
“Ah well, I didn’t think this all the way through.” He laughed softly. “You were assigned a rotational job, but it’s only deadwood collection. You’ll meet by the fishing pier after the midday bell.”
“And which”–I plopped a sliver of meat into my mouth, shredding it with my fangs–”job were you assigned?”
“My name didn’t come up for anything. But I wouldn’t worry, people say that deadwood collection is one of the most straightforward assignments.”
I sighed, unscrewing the tea jar. An aroma like rotting wood seeped out. Lancet was bad, but she wouldn’t poison me. Right?
The leaves expanded, turning dark green as they hit the hot water.
“Can I try some?” Windthrow asked.
That shy glance to the side–so cute.
“Not a great idea. It’s medicinal.”
The bitter taste made my eyes and tail shudder. No one would drink this for funsies.
Our meal slipped past as we chatted. A part of me knew we should be pinning down the details of our relationship. If not now, when? But…my body was warm. The soreness had transformed into a nice empty feeling. Why ruin this mood by talking about something serious?
Windthrow stood up, grabbing our now empty plates. He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. Ehehe. We’re like a boyfriend and girlfriend.
“Let’s meet here in the evening. No more staying out all day hunting. Promise!” he said.
“Sure–” I tapped my claws on the table. “Right! Before you go, can you check the scales on my back? The ones on my shoulder blades!” I twisted, pointing to an itchy spot. “They’ve been feeling weird lately.”
“Alright, let me take a look.”
He slowly rubbed each scale. Tracing his fingers over them. Before prodding them with more force.
The itch disappeared, but besides that, I didn’t feel anything unusual.
“They seem a shade darker than the others…” he said, trailing off. “I suppose you don’t know what’s normal for your species?”
“Yep. I don’t know what’s normal.” I responded. “Thanks for checking, I’ll see you later!”
Jumping to my feet, I gave Windthrow a big hug. We waved goodbye as he walked the shore towards town.
For the rest of the morning, the gentle sounds of my guitar blessed our slice of lakeside paradise. I also finished up the bitter tea. Hopefully my eggs were nice and unfertilized. Do I have eggs? It’s embarrassing how little we know about my body.
After morning guitar practice, I strolled to the pier for my assigned “job”. The pier consisted of two massive tree trunks driven into the lakebed–about 10 feet offshore–connected by a collection of rough hewn planks. Solid, if a bit ramshackle. I glimpsed a flash of silver as a tabaxi fisherman pulled in a forearm length catch!
A massive goliath, with a buck tooth grin waved me down. They explained our job. Go into the forest, collect two baskets of fallen branches. Not exactly rocket science.
The mood of us deadwood collectors was high–it really was one of the best jobs! A menagerie of druids–they really called it a “managerie”– grew construction timber on the other side of the lake. Since our deadwood would be used on small crafts, we didn’t need to collect very much of it.
With a big ol’ basket on my back, I skipped into the woods. Felt good to have dirt and moss under my talons after so long.
The trees ringing the lake had blood red trunks, as wide as the redwoods in those old photos. I bet the view from up there would be spectacular…
For the first time since the fort, I activated my Jump spell. Energy flooded each muscle fiber while I hunched town, picked my target–halfway up the tree–and jumped! Air rushed past my body. In a catlike motion, I extended my claws and talons, clinging to the trunk of the tree.
The forest was a green blur below me. I scrambled the rest of the way to the top. This should be terrifying. Death was a single slip away, but I didn’t feel a speck of fear. I sat myself down atop a sturdy branch; my tail hung down over hundreds of feet of open air.
A sea of rippling greens, oranges and yellows stretched towards the horizon. Further out, the forest was purple. Taking on a surrealist vibe, like a 60s album cover. The nearby lake was a blue mirror, surrounded by the town of Strive. Both looked tiny from here. Over the great swathes of northern forest was the river, a deep blue line cutting across the green. Far to the north west, the giant tree–which I’d never visited–appeared like a broccoli sprout. Beyond the Emel Weald, snowcapped mountains rose in a jagged line of razor-tipped peaks.
After savoring the view and sneaking a short nap, I collected my two baskets of deadwood and returned to Strive.
Windthrow and I adjusted our routines for the week leading to the Federation meeting–both of us wanted to spend more time together. This was the “honeymoon” I imagined! Dinners and breakfasts with each other, and the intimacy we both craved.
The town of Strive started to change too. More and more people arrived from all over the Weald. Far flung syndicates, representatives from Six Dice, and other smaller settlements. A strange cult in all red marched into town, apparently from the southern edge of the Weald. Even Lena Trak–the elderly halfling who kicked off our journey–arrived in town atop her giant brown spider.
The Warriors and Rangers returned too, with a dozen eager Harengon recruits from Six Dice. This meant Delemin was back (Yippee!) and Lancet (Boo!).
“Is that all yeh got Lass!” Delemin shouted.
He brought his hammer down like a meteor, aiming to flatten me like a pancake. I pushed the blunt edge of Tanglewood into his forearm, deflecting the blow. Instead, the hammer collided with the dirt floor of the Warrior’s training ground. BOOM. A cloud of dust erupted upwards.
“Take it easy Del, we’re just sparring!”
“I knew you'd dodge.” He turned to the other sparring warriors. “See that! That’s how you move, you better be takin notes on how the lass does it!”
This was a recent addition to our routine. Daily sparring. Meanwhile, Wind was next door with Lancet. I’ll admit. I didn’t like seeing them dodging and thrusting at each other, like an intricate dance. And the look in Lancet’s eyes, the way she patted him on the back, flashing him seductive smiles. It still bothered me. Hadn’t I basically won? Overwhelming victory…so why did watching still make me gnash my fangs?
I hadn’t had the long awaited relationship “talk” with Windthrow. But, we’d been busy. There’d be time later.
On one of these quiet mornings, I was practicing a particular guitar lick and thinking about the day ahead. My claws–with my wooden picks–brushed over the strings. A familiar warm tone rang out, but also a splash of strange green light. Was that my imagination?
I tried again, replicating the same tone and feeling.
More green light, bursting from the guitar like a magical party popper. Verdant streams fading into mist, before dissipating into the air. A refreshing feeling rose out of every cell of my body, like I’d taken a nice shower. Magic! I was only practicing for fun, and I’d inadvertently learned bard magic!
When Windthrow arrived that evening, I was giddy with excitement. I had to show him!
“I should just stand here, you’ll play a tune and I’ll feel energized?" Windthrow confirmed.
He’d just arrived, and seemed eager for dinner. And more than a bit skeptical of my little experiment.
“Yeah!” I replied. “Trust me, I think I’m a Bard!”
I focused on Windthrow, visualizing my music wrapping around him like a warm blanket. I strummed. The green energy flowed from each string, and curled around Windthrow, starting at his muscular legs and finally fading at his platinum blonde hair.
“My gods!” Windthrow jogged in place, stretching his arms. “I feel great!”
“I told you! I’m a Bard!” I grinned.
“My gods, Vylet. You’re a woman of many talents!” Windthrow picked me up at the waist, spinning me around three times. Our eyes locked as we laughed together.
Tomorrow was the Federation meeting.