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Hijil had spent the entire trip torn as to who to pay attention to: the rambunctious child who was foolish enough to wander into the wildnerness in pursuit of... whatever she had found, or the long lost love that was now awake and there and as much memory as fact.

She eventually erred on the side of Shandi – the girl needed to be safe at home before she could focus on other things... like catching up, or seeing where the relationship would go... Hijil paused by the door, watching Shandi – and the jungle – warily.

“Nah!” said Shandi, dismissively, “They probably haven't even noticed I'm gone!”

Just then, a shifter male peered out of the store window. “Shandi!” he shouted, “Get your stupid tail in here!”

She laughed and waved, clearly still giddy. “That's my brother.” she explained. She wasn't concerned – today was just too good to be ruined by her stupid brother.

“Ugh...” he said, and vanished from the window, soon reappearing at the door. He was a squirrely looking Shifter, and moved nimbly along the ground, picking Shandi up with ease. “You are in so much trouble.” he said, “Do you have any idea how worried Dad was? Any? At all?!”

“Aww, c'mon. Dad knows I can take care of myself.” said Shandi, still unphased by the rough treatment.

“For hours?!” he looked at Hijil and Bhima. “I'm sorry if she caused you trouble – she's an obnoxious brat..."

Shandi's brother seemed taken aback by that. “Well,” he said, uncertainly, “I'm glad she was of use...” he said, falteringly, before he returned to his frustration. “Anyway” he turned to Shandi, “You're going to come with me and apologize to father for upsetting him.” he began to drag her off before pausing and turning back, “Thanks again for bringing her back.” he said, “If you need a place to stay the night...” he let the offer hang in the air before giving the girl's arm another yank and dragging her off, leaving the two newly reunited lovers alone.

At last.

The thought came into her mind, unbidden and she felt subtly guilty. ”Well...” Hijil breathed, not knowing what to say. How could she choose one word from all the many words that so uncharacteristically pressed against her, begging to be said.

How have you been
Where have you been?
It's been so long
How long have you been looking?

These and more jostled and jumbled in her head, and neither could gain purchase over the others. And so, she was, very characteristically, silent. She knew that had to change. ”Bhima, I...” the words clogged her mouth again and she swallowed them back. She was not used to wanting to say so much. She knew, too, that the boy and his sister could come back at any moment and break this fragment of harmony again. ”I...” It was no use. Too many words. Too many things to say. She didn't know what to say.

Smiling shyly and awkwardly, her face warm and flushed in embarassment, she settled for the simplest thing she could.

”...Hi...”

Take up board? The phrase puzzled Hijil for a moment, and she pushed her brain to try to understand it.

Oh! Did Bhima mean something to do with... an inn? Hijil had heard the term all of once. She gazed into the so-familiar inky faceted depths of Bhima's eyes... it would be nice, she realized, to not be in the open, to be safe, and enclosed and with...

And with each other.

”That's a good idea...” she murmured, relieved that Bhima was so reasonable – more so than Hijil at this time. The walk – and the days events, including dealing with Shandi – had left her so tired that it was difficult to be reasonable about anything.

”Where should we...” she hesitated on the word board, images coming to mind of repairing her home after a ferocious sea-born storm... ”Go?”

An inn? A lock? Hijil had never needed such things before, though she knew what they were. The implications of a locked door were lost on her, but her and Bhima, inside, together... There was so much to talk about, so much to catch up on. There was just so much time between them – it frightened and overwhelmed her.

”Yes.” she said. ”Thats...” she swallowed, warily ”Yes.”

Shandi's father was in their quarters giving Shandi a piece of his mind... more crying than yelling, of course. Shandi's brother wished that the man would give her more than that - the girl was incorrigable - But he knew his father had a gentle touch, too gentle, but he couldn't blame him. He knew why.

In the meantime, he was left to tidy up the store and hold it for the next shift, a tiring job, but one that he kept up in the endless twilight of Jahuar.

He looked up at them, at first surprised, then thoughtful, and then neutrally businesslike. “I do.” he said, leafing through a book that was, literally, leaves with notes on them made in Jahuar's bug-and-plant-derived ink. “It's sturdy and secure.” he assured them, though bandits were not a common sight on this road, or even in the avenues of Jahuar. Creatures, however, were. “Built into the tree, and set up for the night.”

He told them the price – it was in coin, due to the variety of travellers and goods on the road, and it was not expensive. It wasn't cheap either.

With Hijil's hands released, she didn't know what to do with them. She fidgeted as Bhima bargained with the young man, her throat dry. She had no coin, so Bhima would have to pay. She didn't know what to say, so Bhima was saying it for her. She longed to talk, but not here.

Soon, though, soon, and it was that thought that kept her patience – though frayed – intact...

He counted it quickly and, smartly, put the coin away, producing from beneath his counter a simple key of wood and crystal, to go with the locks his grandfather had had a shifter tinkerer install. “It comes with the room” he explained, not managing to hide the brief glance towards the family quarters. As the 'official' inheritor of the inn itself, he had a master key, as did his candymaker father. His other sibling no longer had their key – they were abroad with the war, and no longer in the family business besides. Shandi, too, had once had one... no longer. They were an isolated inn, with little competition besides the boughs and floor of the jungle, but they had their pride and Shandi going through the guests rooms and goods without their permission was not encouraged.

He handed the lock to her and gave her a professional smile. He shared Shandi – and their father's – opinion that mixed couples were bad omens, and that their children were cursed, especially if they carried mixed blood, but customers were customers. And – in a trait he did not share with his sister – it was none of his business. He stood to show them to their rooms, but an old amazon came in, tired from the road, and began to look at the stock.

He looked at her and sat down again – he had to keep an eye on the store. “Your room...” he told Hijil and Bhima, quietly, “Are up the stairs three landings...” each landing having two rooms grown and carved from the tree itself, “And to your right. The lock can be set inside and out.”

Hijil watched the older alkidike warily as she moved around the store, but they didnt notice her staring. Or, if they did, they didn't care. Hijil bit her lip – She had avoided the alkidikes living by her coastside home, and yet she had been about to seek one out. She was very, anxiously, aware of this duality and, as the deal of the room neared completion, she wanted to be inside and safe...

Hijil followed, with more than one silent glance back behind them as she went. She had to admit, everything felt very solid. Hijil had never been claustrophobic, but right now, with the solid wood walls and the emotions fluttering about her chest, and the alkidike downstairs, she felt very closed in. Trapped. Nowhere to run. Like the back of a storeroom with her mother looming and...

This is nothing like that. Hijil admonished the memory, quietly, as they came to a stop. When the door closed behind her, Hijil felt her tension ease away, the enclosed space turning – almost magically – from frightening to safe, her anxiety dimming.

The room was a well-made affair. Not as good as some tree-rooms of alkidike make, but far surpassing Hijil's skill with wood and her simple home. There was a bedroll and a spare, rolled up next to some hand-embroidered feather-stuffed pillows. The walls were somewhat smooth, with sheltered candles in a few alcoves and a lantern on what appeared to be a shelf. A few cloth pieces of moderate quality decorated the walls, to add color and to dull sound.

A table, broad, wood, and crudely cut, stood nearby with some clay plates and a bowl with a few pieces of fruit. Hijil nearly started as a murky green sailscale with blue highlights flew past her, setting a piece of bread carefully on the table before chirping a friendly greeting at them both – and another special greeting at the kinfa – before diving out of the window. Hijil went to the window – a portal in the wood of the tree, smoothed with careful tools, to watch it spiral down into the warm glow of the shop far below. She noted a small crystal bell nearby with a note that said 'Ring for Service'.

She looked behind her at Bhima, taking in her appearance properly, now that she didn't have an energetic, nosy child to watch, or a crowd she had to hide behind.

Bhima had grown tall and strong, her muscles bulging smoothly against her skin, her markings growing with her and becoming more distinct and complex in time. Or had they? Hijil tried to remember as she took in the angular bones of Bhima's face and the lack of hair...

Oh that hair... Bhima had once had such nice hair. Why had she cut it off? It was nearly the time for such a question, but there were so many to ask... so many. And now, they were finally alone. Finally safe...

”It's nice...” Hijil commented, smiling nervously. She was almost afraid to begin the conversation, though she wanted it. She did. She took a few steps towards Bhima, then stopped, uncertain.

She'd dreamt of this moment for a long time. She'd imagined it – somewhat – during the trip here. But she hadn't prepared to actually have the moment happen – to be together, alone, in a room with Bhima. It made her happy that she was there... but what did she do?