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 Posted: Fri Aug 30, 2013 1:15 pm
After the Battle.
There was no pain in unconsciousness. There was no time to worry that you were going to die. There was not even blackness, only an unexplainable nothingness. As healers and medics worked over Bhima's wounds, she was still and peaceful, dreaming of nothing. Someone mentioned a chance of brain damage, and someone else shushed him. They moved the still body to the side for observation and continued their work upon other injured parties.
When Bhima opened her eyes, she could not remember having closed them. She did remember being punched repeatedly in the head, though, so that answered the question of how she had "teleported" into the sick tents. The Alkidike tried to sit, but her head was pounding and she lay down for another moment. It was only then that she noticed that something had tumbled from her hand, and her brow furrowed. Was it some sort of healing bag? With a groan, Bhima felt down her torso until she found the woody lump and lifted it to her eyes. Dried blood coated her knuckles, but it did not appear upon the figurine.
... a wooden figurine? The first thing Bhima did was check for her nondwa. Yes, yes, at least nobody had taken it and it hadn't been lost in the tournament. Why this new fish, then? The first instinct was to be angry. Was someone screwing with her, trying to get a rise or play some awful prank? It took all of her reasoning to realize that nobody had known about her. How could they play a prank concerning something no one knew? Confusion set in, and for a time all Bhima felt was the throbbing in her head. Pain was no reason to stop moving, though, she just had to do it... slowly. She moved carefully, not wanting to strain anything in the process. The throbbing only got worse, and pain was beginning to sink into her extremities, but pain was no excuse. A medic approached with concern on his face.
"Are you alright? You took quite a beating, there..."
"Not so much," Bhima replied, eyes narrowing. Something in her tone made the medic falter. "My head hurts, though. Do you have something for that?"
The young man nodded and disappeared into the crowd of the tents before returning with a few small leaves that the Alkidike recognized. She popped them in her mouth and began to chew, nodding back in thanks and stimulating another new surge of throbbing and ache. She left without another word and struck out into the fairgrounds, wincing at the sudden burst of noise. Everyone seemed to be having fun. It was innocent and busy, but inherently peaceful. She would have enjoyed it more if the sun wasn't so goddess-damned bright. Eyes narrowed, she began again toward the various vendors' stands, past the amalgam of different races peacefully chatting by the food stalls.
It seemed as if you could find anything you needed here on the grounds. Some stands had food, others weapons or jewelry, clothing, trinkets, supplies... it was like Andile market, but so much more diverse. There were styles from Zena, blades from Tale, bags from Sauti. How unfortunate that this time should only come so rarely, when races could mingle without fear of persecution and the bigots stayed home. How she wished that events like this were more well-received by Alkidike and had been acceptable during her childhood. Oh well. Whatever had happened was in the past, and there was no use whinging about it now.
While many of the stalls held more useful wares, trinkets could be found upon some stands and as the main focus of rarer booths. A woman kept tiny menk sealed cruelly in jars, a man boasted 'the sharpest spearheads in the world', but there were no carpenters to be found. It took another go around before Bhima noticed just a few wooden figurines perched at the far side of a rather impressive artisan's booth. While she hawked her intricately-carved pendants, the unassuming animals sat, ignored. They must make less money, Bhima decided. Such was the art of merchantry.
She approached the booth without a word and bent over the figurines. There were many renditions of the world's more elegant fauna; birds, kinfa, scorra... she didn't see any fish. The vendor approached, apparently happy to see someone looking at her wares, and interrupted.
"Can I help you with anything?" the woman asked, appearing to be one of the Earthling tribes, herself. Bhima responded frankly.
"Yes," she said as she straightened, towering over the woman, "but only because I have a question."
"Well, sure, that's help!" the vendor chirped, and there was still hope in her tone. Her 'customer' felt no obligation to make a purchase or humor the woman.
"Did someone buy this here?"
She held the fish figurine out, rolling it slightly between her fingers. The vendor went up on her toes and eyed it, then nodded.
"Yes, I must have sold that earlier today."
"Do you remember who you sold it to?" Bhima's voice was unintentionally full of threat. Could it really be her? There were so many people here and it had been so long, but why would anyone else bring such a gift? The vendor looked slightly worried when she leaned up again to take a closer look.
"No, sorry. I've made so many sales today, it's hard to keep track."
Ah, where had the idea of customer service gone? Bhima sighed and narrowed her eyes at the woman.
"Well, I'll be around if you remember."
Without waiting for a response, she wandered back out onto the grounds and toward the medical tents. So who had left this little prize? Certainly the healers had not felt any special affinity for her. Had it been the girl that she had fought first? She'd seemed nice enough. She probably had something better to do than buy presents for people who'd kicked her a**, though.
... so who?
As Bhima entered the tent, her healer friend from previous offered an unsure half-grin.
"Back already?"
Bhima sat down on a bench and pointed wordlessly to her leg, which had begun to bleed through the wrappings, having split open for her little trek. In fact, she felt a little weak now. She wondered if she was pale, if she was going to faint, but mostly she wanted to know where this fish had come from.
If it had been her...
Bah, no. As she was wrapped up again, the Alkidike decided that she really was gone. Holding on to the past would only cause pain. Weakness. She could be reminded of the girl, though. Their late-night meetings, their joy, their love. She smiled as she was laid down. While the memories were only bittersweet, they were precious. The smile dissolved almost as suddenly as it had appeared, though, and Bhima stuffed the fish into her pocket for later, less public rumination.
word count- 1155
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Posted: Mon Dec 09, 2013 6:56 pm
An Affinity.
She had approached one of the settlement's best trainers, and the woman froze in her place. Bhima had a bit of a reputation in her hometown, and to enter a room with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed generally spoke of some sort of "accident." The last time she had come to this place, she had gotten into a fight just outside and needed some assistance for her sparring partner. The first time, she was brought in by her arm by an elder sister for stealing a spear and trying to frighten the other children with it. Needless to say, her appearance was not one associated with positive situations.
This time, though, she stood in the entrance, looking around for assistance. She needed to do this. It was time.
"... can I help you?" the trainer finally asked, coming to Bhima with some trepidation.
The taller, younger sister looked down, and suddenly her expression softened. Bhima was filled with a sense of anxiety. This could all go wonderfully, or terribly. Still, she had done well during the tournament, especially for someone so young and relatively untrained. With the threat of the Fire clan invading, it would be best to get her training in, to learn a craft so she could be of more use when those bastards stepped food on her sisters' land.
"It is my time, I think," she offered, for once displaying an uncharacteristic humility. She had respect for her elders, and listened well on a hunt, but it was not usual for her to show such concern in public.
The trainer tilted her head. "Your time?"
Bhima's brow furrowed even more deeply, and she inhaled deeply before she spoke.
"I have never had an affinity for magic. I am not fond of a spear, because there is only one, and you can easily lose it in an enemy. Since the tournament, I have been thinking on my path. I chose blades for my weapon, and... I did well. I didn't win, but I made it further than many Prentices my age. It is a time for all Alkidike to be prepared. We never know when an attack may come. Those blades, they felt so good in my hands. They were so strong, yet nimble. It felt... right."
She paused, looking to the trainer for some response, but saw only more questions.
"I would like to train as a Blade," she said, and offered a bow that visibly stunned the trainer. "If you would be willing. I know that our correspondence has not always been positive."
The trainer paused, looking down through the floor in deep thought.
"I knew your mother Ishida," she said then, her gaze returning to the young, brash Alkidike, "She was a great hunter. An impressive warrior. I was still young myself, but I remember my teacher speaking of her aptitude. She used a spear."
Bhima nodded, remaining silent.
"Your mother Chike is a Sacred Heart, skilled with the bow, and a skilled artisan."
Again, Bhima nodded.
"Most sisters will follow the path of their mothers, or their guardians. Perhaps of their favorite aunt or uncle, or mentor."
Bhima's brows knitted.
"Why have you chosen to turn to blades? Why did you choose them during the tournament?"
Now, Bhima was growing annoyed. Why were these questions necessary? She was old enough to make her own decisions, old enough to know what she wanted from life. Was she being doubted purely for her lineage? Was it for her habit of starting fights? Were hand-to-hand combat an option, she would have chosen it, but...
"There is no option to use my fists. Blades are as close as we come. I can be close, I can strike hard. It is what I know. I cannot imagine training in archery. You have to be far away. You are a proverbial glass cannon. Should your enemies approach, you have no defense. A spear is good for hunting, but I still do not throw. My instinct is to jab, to stab, to slash. It is long, weighted strangely. I cannot imagine using it in battle."
She was growing heated, but a slow smile was spreading across the trainer's face. Bhima's chest puffed out in indignation. What was so amusing?! She may be older, more experienced, but Bhima was still a sister! She deserved respect! The tone of her voice heightened as she continued.
"Blades I can see! Blades I can understand! They are an extension... a growth at the end of your hand for close combat. For attack. They are what I wish to use, to employ for the rest of my days as a warrior!"
From her pants band, Bhima pulled a pair of daggers. She and her mother were not so wealthy, so they were perhaps of lesser quality than desired, but they were there. She had been playing with them, feeling them out, trying to use them against trees and invisible opponents. They were certainly dulled, but they were blades. They were hers. She had the support of her mother, and could not imagine why the trainer seemed so questioning. She was, after all, just a trainer. When was the last time she had seen battle?!
The trainer gave a small bow then, and her smile had turned softer.
Bhima went somewhat limp. In fact, the last time she had seen battle had likely been the last Shifter raid. her wrist was bandaged, and she was covered in scars. Half of one antennae was missing.
"I'm sorry," she apologized suddenly, "I didn't mean to offend." Would she be able to be trained here, with her big mouth? Would she have to travel elsewhere, perhaps live in a different settlement for a time?
When the trainer rose to standing again, she was shaking her head.
"Bhima, my sister. You have not offended."
Silence stretched. Bhima wasn't sure what to do. Her antennae drooped slightly. Finally, the trainer continued.
"You have proven yourself more completely than some older Prentices. You know what you want, and you know why. Of course I will train you."
A grin split Bhima's face, broad and toothy and rare.
"We will begin tomorrow afternoon. Please bring your blades."
word count- 1034
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Posted: Fri Jan 10, 2014 2:34 pm
To Quell My Tumultuous Soul.
It was quite a trek. She had left after dark, a habit born from years of nighttime travel. Branches crunched beneath her modest shoes. There was a gentle wind blowing at her arms, and it caused a little chill. Her destination was clear for the first time in a long, long while. The exact location was admittedly somewhat lost. Bhima had been avoiding this particular tree for quite some time, and although she may have passed it more recently, she had paid it no attention. This was the right area, though. She recognized the stars here, the stone formations. It was a softly glowing copse of crystals that told her she had arrived. It had been a long while. The little cluster has grown tall, and tiny gems sprouted from the ground around the base of the tree.
Bhima swallowed hard. Her heart trembled.
The young Alkidike tucked her blades into the handmade sheaths at her hips and reached up to grasp a low branch. It had seemed so much higher, and the tree so much larger. It was still tall, though, still strong. She pulled herself up with ease and began a careful climb, picking her way through familiar branches and new growth toward the top of the tree. The only sounds were the rustling of the leaves and her own soft breathing. The world was silent.
Near the crowning branches of the trees sat a collection of rotting planks. A few still lay across two sturdy limbs, and others lay wet and crumbled upon them. She hadn't expected the structure to still be intact, but seeing it like this caused a twisting in her chest.
Breathe, Bhima. You had known that it would be hard.
The young woman pulled herself onto a thick branch and sat, hooking her legs together beneath it. Wide black eyes reflected the depth of the night sky and the twinkling stars within. How many had died since the last time she had seen them? How many had formed?
Bhima snuffled softly, and simply allowed the tears to well in her eyes. There was no one to see her here... at least no one who hadn't seen her cry before.
"Mama..." she cooed, her voice catching. She felt a warm tear cascade down her cheek, and she grimaced, taking a moment to strengthen herself. She began again.
"Mama, I know you are with me." Her eyes turned to the stars, to the gently swaying leaves. "I wish that you were still here, still walking the earth amongst the living. It is difficult without you, Mama. Life is hard." For only a moment, her eyes flickered away. Bhima did not like to admit her own difficulties.
"I've taken to the blade, Mama. Are you ashamed? Mama Chike doesn't seem to mind that I didn't turn to the bow, but I can't ask you." She paused. "I can't hear you."
"I don't want to disappoint you, Mama. I want to know what you think of my life. Of what I have become. It feels like yesterday you held my hand and led me through the market. It feels like yesterday we saw you slip away. It's not fair, Mama. I wish that it had been me."
She shook her head then. "I know that you would disagree. I know that it would have broken Mama Chike, perhaps more than she already is. She misses you still, Mama. I can see how it hurts her. It's in her eyes. She tries, though. She does well. She still cares for me the best she can, without you by her side."
"Mama. I miss you."
A soft sigh, a little sob.
"Give me some sign, Mama Ishida. Please, let me know. hear me and reply. I need you, Mama. I need you now."
The girl stopped, feeling so vulnerable, feeling so broken. She was met with only silence. A spitorog gurgled nearby. The night had no answer. Perhaps the spirits were not so observant.
Perhaps there were no spirits at all.
Bhima turned toward the trunk of the tree, wrapping her arms around it as far as they would go. There was no warmth in this wood. There was no gentle hand to comfort her. Tears spilled from her eyes and she tried to draw any modicum of stability from the enormous tree. It did not respond. It did not hug back.
A cool breeze pulled at her cheek. It must pass like the others, in a moment or two... except it did not cease. The rustling of the leaves began a crescendo, more and more audible until it rose like a million crickets into the night. The wind began to whip through the trees, moving with the fluidity that no living creature could afford. Then there began a soft creaking of wood, a groan in one direction and a pause in the other. The boards beside her do not lift, do not blow away even in their dessicated state. She'd swear that she can hear a laugh carried softly on the wind. Back, and forth. Creaking, breathing.
A small swing, a pair of strong hands.
'Harder, Mama, harder!' A child's laughter. The girl thrusts her hands and arms up, feeling the air surround her. Mama Ishida chuckles, shaking her head.
'Careful, Bibi. We don't want to fall!'
'I won't!' the child insists, her long, heavy curls trailing behind her.
'No, no,' Mama Ishida responds, 'Our Bibi is meant to fly. She will lift her wings and fly like the Nondwa, up and up and into the sky.'
Mama Chike turns her head up from her work and smiles ear to ear. Bhima laughs delightedly and squeals, and Mama Ishida can't help but laugh in response.
'Fly, Bhima, fly!'
Sobs wracked Bhima's chest. She thrust her hands into the air, allowing her wailing to carry on this heavy breeze. The trees howled, but their song was not mournful. It was bright music lighting the wind. It was a gentle embrace in the face of total emptiness.
Beside her sat the ruins of a platform, rotting but holding strong, clinging to life.
Like the nondwa.
The small wooden sculpture in her pocket pressed into her leg. It felt almost warm.
Like the nondwa.
Bhima lifted her voice to the heavens, to the spirits, crying out with a torrent of emotion that had been held back for so long, for so many years. Her fingers flex in the gust, and she feels like she is floating.
Fly, Bhima, fly!
word count- 1088
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2014 2:30 pm
Sounds in the Bushes.
So she had left the world behind in search of someone she may never find. She'd have no idea if the Obans attacked again, so deep was she mired in the nowhere-places of the forest. Her mother was undoubtedly worrying, and Bhima had not been able to make her understand without tossing out that terrifying word: "love".
Mama Chike had been loved and felt love for so many years, and then had felt the gripping pain of loss. She and her daughter had cried together nights when Mama Ishida passed. Bhima could not compare what she and Hijil had to marriage, or to the mother of her children, but they both understood the word "love". Mama Chike had helped her gather supplies and sent her off as all mothers would.
Bhima had been walking for two days now, seeking her lost love. She knew very well that her search could lead nowhere or only to a shallow grave, but she would have to try. There would be no sleep until she learned what had happened to Hijil or at least could wonder on what had occurred in that shack that night. She found herself hoping for the worst; that Hijil had killed her mother and run off to escape. That was easier to stomach, somehow, than the thought of sweet Hijil, pale and broad, bound and gagged and dragged to some black market to be killed or sold.
It was lonely here, in the dark jungle. There was no breeze to cool her and no gentle rain to soothe. Before her crackled a small campfire which roasted her day's rations. While she hated to admit it, Bhima was most often well-fed and so her stomach rumbled after a long day of almost nothing. Only the battle had prepared her for this willful starvation. Mostly she picked and plucked at jerky during the day, but one needed some variety and so she had gone hunting and struck a maglardilla down from the treetops. Its friends had flown off, easily forgetting their companion in the fear of death. Funny how it was in the world. Loyalties were strained when danger came into the pictures... except maybe in the case of Tendaji. Never before had there been such a gathering of races, fighting together rather than amongst themselves. Alkidike had stood by the side of the Shifters for the first time in forever, and loyalties were forged at the sight of a threat. She still had faith. She believed that Tendaji would rise up against this foe, Prentices training hard while legendary warriors honed their skills... and then there was Bhima, far along and away, searching for someone who may or may not have been there, who may or may not have had the chance to blossom into womanhood.
The Alkidike sighed, hating the train of thought her mind often ran down without her permission. The last thing she wanted to think about was Hijil dead, or Hijil different, or Hijil the criminal, or Hijil the slave. She knew that there was little to no chance of Hijil being the same girl she had been years ago, even if she was still alive. Thoughts of a tearful reunion had become disconcerting and disbelieved as they continued. They were but an image of what could never be. Brow furrowed, Bhima turned up to the canopy. It rustled gently, blocking out any view of the stars.
It was then she heard it, the first sounds. There was a great cacophony like something crashing through the ferns, and a squall almost like a baby's cry. The longer Bhima thought on the screech, though, the less it seemed like it had come from any Alkidike or Earthling. It was bestial and desperate. She grabbed the hilt of one blade and stared off into the distance. Was it a threat? Was it coming closer?
The strange sound trumpeted again. It did not seem any nearer than the first time, but Bhima felt as if some emotions could be derived from it. Indeed, it stung her heart a little to hear such a howl. It was desperate, she thought, but also afraid. She imagined a small creature like a baby radaku, bumbling through the grass in search of its mother. She had no time for such things, and it made her heart ache to think that she would have to leave the creature alone to die. That was the harsh reality of nature, and normally something she could accept, but something about this new quest had softened her soul.
Then again, it didn't quite sound like a radaku, did it?
Her meal was still stewing and would need some time, so Bhima decided to at least check the sound out. She could take an adult radaku on with these blades of hers, but this thing didn't down any bigger than particularly vociferous spitorog. She stood, praying that no ambush was planned and no beast would take her maglardilla meat while she was gone.
Again it came, a strange crashing and a loud cry. The Alkidike peered east and saw a rustling in the dewy ferns quite a distance away. She thought she saw a flash of bright green. What in the world came in that shade? Had she found the world's first shrieking ground-bug? Curious, she continued in the direction that the crashing sounded.
After a time of following the odd noises, Bhima realized that she was not quite taking part in a proper pursuit. Whatever was squawking and tumbling around in the jungle did not seem aware that she was even there; it would tumble east, the straight on north, bumble west and crash around behind her back. It sure was being a devil to spot, though.
In her frustration, Bhima began to talk to the creature.
"Hey! You there! Stop that!" She pushed her way through some tall ferns, closer to the source of the noise. Her sense of self-preservation had been overcome by her curiosity. Besides, wouldn't it have attacked her already if it wanted her blood? The crashing continued.
"You, stop! Hey!" There came another desperate squawk, but the crashing had stopped. "Just... stay there! Stay where you are!"
All sounds ceased. The forest was still. Bhima swallowed, suddenly fearing ambush again. She steeled herself for a battle and approached to find... her own campsite. Whatever it had been had led her back to her roasting beetle.
Of course, it wasn't just a "whatever" that had been drawn in by the pleasing aroma, but a big fluffy-headed bird. It certainly hadn't been flying, and it was so ruffled that she could only imagine it tumbling through the plants like an imbecile.
What in the world as a kinfa doing all the way out here?
The bird gave a throaty peep and began to nibble at the maglardilla's shell.
"Hey, no! That's mine!" The Alkidike stepped forward, startling the kinfa and causing it to tumble sideways to fluff up in the dirt. It held its wing at an odd angle. Perhaps it had hurt itself? The avian creature got back to its feet and gave its most terrifying roar, which amounted to little more than a whistle blow.
Now ignoring the creature, Bhima sat down and began to partake of her supper.
As she ate, she noticed that the kinfa had chosen to stay. At first it stayed in its large, defensive state, but over time it began to relax again. In moments it was grooming itself. It sat beside the fire and puffed up happily in the glow of the flame. Still it held its wing at an odd angle.
All of a sudden, Bhima felt soft. It had to be an infant. How it had ended up so far away from kinfa territory was beyond her, but now it was here, out of its element and away from its peers. It did not seem aggressive. She reached out to touch the beast's soft feathers and found it turning up to her and clacking its beak. Something in her melted at the sight of those big emerald eyes. Perhaps she should take it with her, after all. She could at least leave it in Tale or something, give it a better chance to survive.
On a whim, she pulled a bit of meat from what remained of the maglardilla and offered it to the bird, who gobbled it hungrily. It squawked again, an ear-piercing sound, and Bhima couldn't help but smile.
word count- 1416
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Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2014 2:56 pm
Desperation.
Bhima had found the road on her third day out, emerging from the jungle to find a long lane of worn earth. It seemed the best chance she had to search for settlements, and that had become her goal in the time she'd spent looking so far. She had seen no choice but to go out and try to find Hijil, but she was slowly realizing how difficult that might be. Were she dead somewhere, there was no way that Bhima was going to find her. There were animals and elements more than ready to alter a body, and that was if she hadn't been dead long enough to become bones. The thought depressed her, and this day had not been going so well.
Were Hijil alive, she imagined that she might find her in some further village. It had hurt at first to think that Hijil had not come to her upon her mother's death, if she had been able to, but the time for that had long since passed. Everyone had their reasons, and she had forgiven Hijil hers, again, if she were alive.
At the time of Hijil's disappearance, Bhima had been waiting for her friend to arrive on their agreed date. At first she thought the Shifter was simply late, and then that she had been kept home by her mother. In the days following, the young Alkidike had developed her thinking for more sinister means. Hijil was leaving her forever, or was being held back by her mother, or something absolutely terrible had happened. More and more there was no Hijil.
A fight had occurred when Bhima shaved her head. It had been so long ago now that she was used to the feeling of the wind against her scalp. Her mothers had screamed when they found her angrily sitting amongst the remains of her dreadlocks, the long primped and cultivated tresses that they had all held so highly. In less than an hour, they were gone and gone for good. Why had she done this, Mama Chike asked? How could she? Bhima could only say that she had been betrayed. Poor Mama Ishida had died never knowing. When she had told Chike, the woman had visibly relaxed and even smiled slightly. Love was a motivation she understood and, pulling her shawl around her, she had nodded and insisted that Bhima take some of the first aid supplies. Now, here she was, wandering through the dirt as she slowly lost hope.
Her only joy was Atipi, the baby bird that toddled after her or sat in a sling on her back and chirped affectionately during meal time. It was another mouth to feed, but Bhima was more than willing to share. In the end, she may come back with only this feathered companion.
This was her fifth day traveling. The fourth had brought her to a small group of camping Alkidike with no information to offer. In fact, they had turned their noses up at the mention of Shifters and gotten unusually terse and quiet afterward. Since then there had been no one. Hunger had begun to niggle at her belly, and she'd decided that it was time for some fresh meat. It took a while to track a small group of maglardillas and she had taken her time to approach cautiously.
Bhima hunched, her shape concealed in the shadows of the foliage. A particularly juicy-looking maglardilla sat on a rock nearby, and she was tired of scavenging fruit. She needed some protein, and Mr. Crawly seemed as if he had eaten just a bit more than his share on this particular occasion.
She would be the first to admit that she had not packed particularly well for this journey. She had had no idea how long she might be gone, and the supplies she'd taken had ended up not being enough. The money she had was barely any at all, and so in lieu of buying from a vendor she had decided to hunt once again. So far she had been successful, but she was beginning to wonder if it hadn't just been luck. These beasts could fly, after all, and she hadn't thought to take a spear. This whole spur-of-the-moment quest had lost all logical conception when she had seen the shack, seen the room Hijil had lived in.
Suddenly, the Alkidike leaped from the brush and struck out at the insect. It startled, but decided only to crawl around the other side of the stone. Maybe it was too heavy to fly? Bhima struck out again with vigor and a sound of effort. The maglardilla made an odd sound, and she thought that she had struck gold until the great, shiny creature bounced up and floated off into the distance. Damn it! Momentarily defeated, Bhima flopped over. Perhaps it had been for the best. Maybe Mr. Fatty McCrawlersons was someone's pet. She was following a road, after all, and not out in the middle of nowhere.
Atipi peered up at her with those wide, innocent eyes. Right. Well, they would have to keep going.
Still, the Alkidike was annoyed. She considered whether her emotions were altering her skills. Fighting was sort of her thing, and she would worry if she was compromised. What if they came across something larger? What if they were set upon by someone who wasn't so accepting of a Sister?
Continuing down the road, Bhima saw very little protein-rich palatable fare. She had picked a handful of berries and considered, if only for a split second, to see what spitorog tasted like. When rationality returned, she decided to turn her sights to the sky. A maglardilla was still her best bet, even if she was personally a bit annoyed with them at the moment. She had not failed to hunt before, but she had also rarely been on hunts alone. She would need to work on her skills, and her tactics.
It was a characteristic clattering that caught the young woman's attention. There must be a swarm of the tasty little buggies somewhere back in the woods. It actually took Bhima a moment to decide that she had to try again. If she wasn't successful, her protein tonight was going to have to come from illi. Her lip wrinkled, she diverted from the worn ground leading goddess-knows-where and followed the fluttering, chirping sounds of a good herd.
She saw them gathered up in the high boughs of a corpse of trees, perhaps grazing. A blade wasn't about to coax them down, however. Instead, half-crazed by frustration, she picked up a rock.
Bhima stared at the maglardillas. They didn't seem to notice her.
With an angry howl, Bhima reeled back and heaved the good-sized rock into the crowd. They rose and headed away in a great mob of colors and movements to the sound of breaking branches. Two large shapes tumbled from the trees. She could not believe her eyes.
Somehow, she had pegged a maglardilla in the swarm, or else had destroyed the branch it had perched on. Considering the latter, she sprinted toward the area the shapes had fallen while Atipi hopped and fluttered on behind with the curiosity of a child. Beneath the tree, the maglardilla flopped and sputtered, clearly wounded. Thank you, Aisha, for this gift. She buried her blade in its belly and the creature spasmed only a moment more before it went still. Atipi gave a pleased peep and waddled to Bhima's ankle, brushing soft feathers against the flesh.
So maybe the Goddess still smiled on her, if she was able to procure a meal with a rock and blind aim. She began back for the road, considering the pros and cons of setting up camp within view of passers-by. Obviously she was more at risk from other people, although the likelihood of an animal attacking was lessened the closer she was to civilization. She wanted to be near any people who might be traveling to or from the nearest settlement, or even just toward their home. She couldn't be sure Hijil had ever come this way, but she had to try. Not acting would be the worst disservice she had ever paid himself, even if she came home with an empty belly and nothing else.
In the end, Bhima had decided to set up camp just beside the road. She doubted she would be sleeping much anyway, and she would be able to question anyone who passed by. Hopefully nobody would be annoyed enough to attack, not that she couldn't protect herself. Now she had someone small and vulnerable along with her, someone to protect, regardless of the fact that it was a small and feathery beast. They ate together that night, and Atipi slept in the crook of Bhima's arm.
In the morning, they were back on the road again. The Alkidike was weakened from a lack of sleep, but held the determination to forge on in search of her lost love. Some day she would simply come to the end, she thought. It might be physical, it might not, but she would know when she reached it. For now, she simply had to continue.
Against the horizon, a little shop began to rise. Hopefully they would have something to eat. Bhima was not looking forward to another maglardilla hunt this particular day, not just yet. She approached with Wtipi strapped to her back, the kinfa peering curiously over her shoulder and tickling her neck with soft green feathers.
word count- 1052 without battle text [ battles [1] [2] ]
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