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Naqenni felt an ever present restlessness. From the moment she woke until she passed into sleep each night it seemed, in greater and lesser amounts but ever there. She felt it stirring since the day of its arrival before all the gathered Elaria and their fore-cousins. The ‘dretch.’ Such an old secret it had become legend, and then ‘myth’ hardly spoken of. But clearly, it was more than that.

Before the most recent chain of events, she had harbored enough impatience as it was. A race could only grow so fast to maturity and it wasn’t that she wanted to rush her life, but the island was or should be theirs at the very least, particularly when they were raising a mystic on it. But through her impatience then she had at least still maintained a relative, contingent trust of their elders, being that they were their caretakers, mothers, and teachers in their newly bloomed years.

The event of the dretch arrival had changed many perspectives.

Looking back, she would likely always remember her initial reaction to Nivalis’ public voicing of their frustrations. It had seemed then, before the reveal of deception, that they were not quite at a point that necessitated conflict.

Now, she felt it was only a matter of time. She and her sisters had had dangerous facts concealed from them even though they were growing into the warriors of their tribe in their own right.

And their own mystic had not been informed ahead of time.

The time at which they would have to be self-sufficient in their own right was approaching—not with immediacy, but inevitability just the same. She had always scouted as soon as she’d come of an age to be allowed — and before, for that matter — but now she did so with special purpose. It was evident that theirs was not the only selection of people plagued by their demons, and the earthlings apparently were in more communication with one another than ever before.

Even their secluded little island variety particular the isle of outcasts.

Naqenni was not certain how she felt knowing that the ‘leaders’ of the earthling tribes were collaborating more than usual—or going to make an attempt. Dumb and weak as they were, their strength was in their numbers and there were a number of them even when it was only one tribe clustered. If she were truly honest, she still felt that even now, after having traveled to the mainland and seen them for herself, she couldn’t fully predict just how great their numbers were by comparison.

Yet, now they were banding together, or might be. But there was consolation in the fact that the unifying drive of it all was not them, for once, but their enemy. A mutual enemy to all species but itself.

Naqenni snorted.

Perhaps the earthlings would be sending out ambassadors to one another, but what they did was their own business. The dretch might be enemy to all, but she highly doubted even a foe so universally opposed as this one could be reason enough for them to send their own representation. Even their betrayer cousins were not friendly with the earthlings, enemy to many. And they were the exiles of the enemy.

What it would mean for them, though, was another story. Perhaps if there were enough of them all scurrying about to solve the problem, one of them would succeed and rid them of their issue. Of course, somehow, she doubted it. For many long years, the apparent secret of the dretch had been one sequestered away by their kind—and she suspected either they or their betrayer cousins would be the ones unlocking the answer to ridding themselves of the blight as a result.

In the meantime, all the earthlings were astir. The chances that it resulted in the end of the dretch seemed insignificant. But the chances that they might learn more of what was happening on a grander scale, with little earthling eyes and ears scattered to the winds, did seem viable. If anything, now was the time to have a pinch of their own at least stationed to hear, if not instructed to travel out with specific intent.

They had been to the mainland before, all the way up through Tendaji’s landscape to the rocky crags of what the earthlings called Sauti. If they were capable of that, with the mystic in tow no less, surely they could manage to send a handful of capable scouts with the specific purpose of gathering information out to areas they’d be more likely to come across such information.

It was a thought to sit on, she decided, and breech to the mystic if it still seemed as viable by morning.

Word Count: 812