#[squats down] how do you do fellow horse people

[undead-cypress]

Miku from my culture meme lol. Historical (kinda, shorted the robe and changed stuff to better preserve Miku’s silhouette), and wearing my exact school uniform from when I was young enough to wear one

[jasper-the-menace]

Hey, since you're interested in scorpion biology, I thought you'd be interested in the idea of... intersex Chima scorpions! Well, sort of.

There's a specific character that's been bugging me a bit. Scutter is kind of the scorpion equivalent of a centaur; he has two torsos, one anthropomorphic, and another of the scorpion body. With scorpion anatomy in mind, it's easy to reach the conclusion that Scutter's reproductive organ would be heavily altered because of his body, making him intersex to a certain extent.

I hope this makes sense. I'm trying to look for possible trans rep in Chima characters (like in this example). What do you think of this idea?

Oh friend, you don't know the essay you just inspired.

You Opened This Can Of Worms, Now Lie In It

Some important bulletpoints before I get going, just to get all of my followers on the same page:

Disclaimer: I am a transgender nonbinary perisex individual. This means I am not intersexed (to my knowledge), I don't identify with the gender I was assigned at birth, and I don't identify as male or female. The closest thing to describing my gender is literally "no".

I am a strong advocate for making as many characters transgender as possible, regardless of "realism". That's why, in my own writing, half of the Scorpions are retroactively transgender (though they don't understand gender on the whole and most of them would probably be nonbinary if someone took fifteen minutes to explain gender, variable social constructs, and the concept of genitalia tying to gender roles) and also Razar is too on account of I said so.

Being intersexed does not inherently mean being transgender. There is a lot of discussion and individual choice between intersexed people about whether or not they're part of the queer community. It's a very individual thing, and I am not part of those discussions on account of not being intersex myself.

When it comes to humans and other beings with a level of sentience and sapience, the term "hermaphrodite" and its derivates are considered slurs. When talking about animals, hermaphrodite and its derivates are scientific terms. So in something like the Legends of Chima series and other humanoid-animal media, the proper term is "intersexed". (I noticed you used the term "intersex" in your ask, and I appreciate it!)

I know too much about scorpion mating and birth.

We're talking way too much about genitalia and gender tonight in regards to fictional characters.

I am genuinely delighted that you decided to drop in here to discuss this, because boy howdy do I have a lot of thoughts about transgender headcanons/representation and scorpions specifically! Scorpions are just. So damn cool.

Note for my fellow arachnophobes: There are no images attached to this post, but it's really easy to find videos of scorpions doing various things on YouTube, which is actually how I've been studying them.

Scorpion Sex, Mating, and Genitalia

Scorpions of both "genders" have genital opercula (singular: genital operculum), and their asses run up into their tails. In order to mate, they don't just do like horses. No no, buddy, they have a really weird, specific method!

In order to start wooing his potential mate, the male scorpion will lock chelae (pincers) with the female scorpion, and they will start to "dance". The male scorpion will drop a sperm packet onto the ground and lead the female scorpion over it. If the female scorpion is down, she'll basically squat and absorb the sperm packet into her body, which is then followed by a "mating plug" to keep it in while it does the fertilization thing.

(It's important to note that the courting process also contains "juddering", aka the male scorpion doing the dance that the stickbug meme did, and may also contain clerchical "kisses". Honestly, pretty romantic for an arachnid. And possibly tail-rubbing and sexual stinging. Scorpions are very kinky!)

(It's also important to note that some species of scorpions have been reported, though not reliably, to reproduce through parthogenesis.)

Post-coitus cannibalism has not been scientifically seen in scorpions, so the male scorpion is generally safe as long as he scadoodles.

Gestation in some scorpion species can last over a year, and different species can have anywhere from 2 to 100 little scorplings - the physical size of the scorpion is not necessarily tied to how many babies they'll have.

Also, scorpions give live birth!

The baby scorpion is essentially folded like a Fedex package and launched out of the womb. It will then unfold and climb on top of the mother to make way for its next sibling. These will hang onto the mother until their first molt, which happens as a group and launches them into the juvenile stage. After this, they will still stay with their mothers until their carapace finishes hardening and gaining color, at which point they hunt prey on their own and will wander off on their own terms.

Hey, Jasper, That's Pretty Fucked Up, But How Does This Tie Into Chima?

I'm getting there, hold your centaur scorpions!

This is where we get into the worldbuilding of the Legends of Chima series, the Character Encyclopedia, and our poor boy Scutter.

See, the Legends of Chima as a series is very much a product of its time. There is some rife ableism and questionable word choices in regards to the Crawlers (and Sir Fangar, but this isn't about him). According to the Character Encyclopedia, Scutter is "less evolved". There's a looong history of racism in using phrases like "evolution" in regards to other humans, so taking that and applying it to an animal world leaves us with some very strange dissonance, because it's used in Chima to mean animals turned into a more humanoid form by the Chi.

Because really, what is the Chi? It's a magical substance that, depending on how you read it, could be the animist spirit of the land (I say, as an animist myself), or it could be drugs. Or it could be any number of other things! I know one person who writes Chi as the blood of dead gods, which is metal as fuck!

Ultimately, it depends on how one is writing the Chi that makes the usage of phrases like "less evolved" more or less questionable than it was intended. We're all dragging around the corpse of a Lego theme across our writing desks anyway. And the way I go about answering the question of "what is Chi" is definitely different from others. (Again, see the dead god blood part.)

The question of whether or not the Scorpion Tribe, namely Scutter, would count as intersexed relies on 1) defining intersexuality in regards to genitalia arrangement (scorpions don't have penises and vaginas by default; and the Wikipedia article on scorpions just uses "genital orfice" or "genital opercula"); 2) determining if the Chi has magically changed how genitalia works for Scorpions (admittedly, I do this because I didn't want to have to use the term "genital opercula" over and over); 3) determining the humanization extent of the Scorpion Tribe as you write them (I lean more towards human than you do, just from what I've seen of your work); and 4) deciding if such terminology even exists in Chima.

But looking at Scutter and going with the assumption that the back end is fully scorpion... No, I wouldn't count him as intersex by default. Intersex implies landing between the two human biological extremes (which, as we all know, is not as cut-and-dry as high school biology taught us), when really he's kind of a secret third thing (a Scorpion who probably doesn't have either a penis or a vagina).

(Of course, there's also what you said, paraphrased to my own wording: the Chi may have just decided to fuck up this poor man's genital situation and do a half-ass job.)

That's not to say he can't be trans. I mean, I made Scorm and about half of the Scorpion Tribe trans already. That's also not to say they're not all trans by default, considering scorpions without the ability to think wouldn't have the concepts of genders anyway.

Okay Jasper, So How Do You Write Him?

So, here's the thing. I'm aromantic-asexual, and I also write smut and, to a lesser extent, romance, which means I think about fictional character genitalia too much. But thinking about Scutter has left me utterly baffled.

On one hand, I usually write the Chi as a magical animist force of the land of Chima on the whole, and part of that is that the Chi tries to get everyone on the same playing field, physically speaking, which is how we get retroactive transgender man Scorm in my Tales of Chima series.

On the other hand, look at him. Look at him. He's a centaur arachnid. I know he can pass the Harkness Test, but I still feel weird thinking about his genitalia. If I go with my theory of the Chi giving everyone penises and vaginas at random, then I don't want to think about how much that would get in the way for the poor boy! On the other hand, his lower body is still mostly scorpion instead of, well, Scorpion, so who's to say he doesn't have a genital operculum?

Too Long, Don't Want Details About Scorpion Sex

Alright, spoilsport. Here's your TLDR:

It genuinely depends on what the Chi does in your version of the story and how bad it fucks up. It depends on how dedicated you are to scientific accuracy. It depends on how much you want to think about scorpion genitals.

And being intersex is not necessarily trans rep, unless it is, unless it isn't. I'm not intersexed, so I'm not going to say what that falls on myself. There is an intersex pride flag that was created by Morgan Carpenter in 2013.

Trans characters can exist outside of being intersexed, you don't have to conflate the two in order to have transgender representation. Just hit the characters with the Transgenderinator 5000 Beam. Fuck realism, this is a series about walking talking animal people. Who's going to stop you? The fun police? Transphobes? Eat them.

Further Reading

Start at Wikipedia and go from there through its sources for anything of particular interest:

Intersex flag (in case you're curious about it and its history, which can also launch you into further reading about humans being intersex)

Scorpion (morphology section)

Scorpion (mating subsection)

Scorpion (birth and development subsection)

So, uh, yeah! Thanks for coming to me with these questions, it's really touching that you value my thoughts this much, and I love talking about my boys and scorpions and the complicated web! I apologize for any errors or too-crass sections, because I wrote most of this in one sitting after playing wayyy too much Skyrim today.

~Jasper

[blackberry-gingham]

Talk Tonight | Sabretooth x GN!Reader

<prev... | Chpt 3 | next...>

One night down. Unfortunately, that's about all it takes to make you suspicious of your new acquaintance

tag list: @samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @mickeyperkins (sabretooth tag list open to additions!)

tags: amnesia Sabretooth era (it's a comic thing, trust me), mentions/threats of violence, gender non-specific reader

---

What a way to start the morning. Confusion and doubt run rampant inside your head. Should you be afraid? Or should you pity him?

You wouldn't quite say that "pity" is commonly found in your emotional vocabulary, but in a case like this...

Just trying to imagine what this man has been through makes your stomach turn. You don't like to dwell on it for too long, and to make matters worse, your idea of it sours more and more as you get to know him.

You do feel bad, and yet... It's crossed your mind more then once that there may be a reason he was locked up like a prisoner. Who do you trust here?

It's mutant against mutant. One strangers word against another's. A whole institute of people verses a single man. It's not at all impossible that you could be backing the wrong horse here.

Today you plan to go get the big fellow some proper clothing. At least just to cover up. But...

Wouldn't it be so easy to go to the institution instead? You can put two and two together. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who exactly the "they" are whenever you try to get a straight answer out of him. All you'd have to do is tell them where he is and... Boom. Back to your normal, happy, quiet life.

You get your papers and your things and you must admit, the intention is there. You'll do it. Let them have him back. Their fancy, smooth talking Professor Xavier has been nothing but clear that "rouge mutants are for mutants to handle", after all.

Let's put all that talk to the test.

You throw on your coat and grab your keys with a jingle. Victor's head pops up inquisitively from the other side of the couch.

"I'll be back soon", you toss the comment out.

"Can I come with you?", He gets up a little, leaning heavily again the back of the couch as though he's ready to jump over it and join you this very moment.

"No. Stay here, I'll be back"

"Well...", he stands up now, walking slowly around the couch to be closer to you and the door, "where are you going?", he asks sadly.

You grit your teeth. Damn, but you hate to lie. You hold up your notes, "Work. I just need to take these over, then I'll be back"

That seems to soothe him well enough. He lightens up and supposes that he'll see you soon.

You give a curt smile, and walk out the door.

He seems so happy, just to know that you'll be back. That he'll see you again.

You start up the engine and try to remember what direction the institution's in. Shift in reverse. Quick glance over the shoulder. One last look at the house.

A pair of big, amber eyes watch you curiously from the living room window, just from the bridge of the nose up. He must be doing that weird, four legged squat thing, you figure.

...He trusts you, you know.

You wrench your eyes shut and open them quickly, trying to blink the thought away but... It's true. You may not trust him much, or at all really. But he sure as hell has a lot of trust in you.

And why not? Right now, you're all he has.

For just a moment you watch him watching you.

You sigh and give a little good bye wave before pulling out. He gives a tiny, sad wave back but that seems to have made him some type of happy, you think. At least he's gone to lay down now.

Bumping along the dirt road, you give yourself time to clear your thoughts. The institute is a bit of a drive, but still closer then work. By the time you're done there, you could head into the city, do your thing, and by the time you get back, you're sure he'll be gone.

You'll never see him again...

Hm...

No. No, this is a good thing. Right? You don't really do.... People, after all. Not even pets. How are you supposed to live with someone else kicking around in your home 24/7? You'll go nuts.

You drive and drive, telling yourself the same thing over and over. Maybe if you say it enough you'll believe it. This is for his own good. For your own good.

Just a few more minutes until the turn...

Maybe just don't think about him. Don't think about those big, sweet and curious eyes.

There's the fork in the road.

Don't think about that sad, pitiful face, waiting for you to come back home.

You press the break.

Don't think about his pretty pearly, grin or his strange but sweet, floor shaking purr.

Don't think about how happy he is wherever you're near.

Don't think about how sad and distressed he was to see you leave.

You look down the right turn, towards the institution.

Don't...

You throw your head back against the headrest with a groan. Damn you. You shake your head, and crank the wheel left, towards the city.

Work is easy, just a little meeting with the boss, some revisions to your articles for the week, and submit it all within an hour or two. No problem. It's hardly past noon.

As your thoughts turn to heading home, you're reminded that your mutant friend will still be waiting for you.

That makes you smile.

Well... You guess you need to get those things for him then.

Definitely going to need more groceries. Your fridge for one isn't going to cut it anymore, especially not with a big guy like that hanging around. He seems to enjoy normal food well enough, so no need to get any experimental items.

Honestly, he'd probably be more offended then anything if you tried to give him a can of cat food.

You huff a laugh and keep going. The only tricky thing is picking out something for him to wear. You have no clue what size to get. Well, definatly something bigger then your now ruined sweater, you suppose.

Maybe just play it safe, go big and stretchy. If you've said it once, you've said it a thousand times; Thank God for sweatpants.

Finally you're all set. Time to head home.

The sun is close to setting. You've been gone nearly all day. You just hope your house is still standing by the time you get there.

You almost give a sigh of relief to see that it is.

You've hardly had a chance to climb out of the car before you hear your front door slam open. Victor bolts out of the house doing that strange four legged run as he races up to you. Not that you get to see it long enough to make such observations.

For someone so big and tall, he's fast as hell.

You brace for impact, but are relieved to find he stops short rather then tackling you into the gravel.

"You really came back!", he enthuses simplistically, way too energetic for your tastes.

You take a step back from the great ball of energy, heading to grab your bags, "Well... I do live here", you remind him.

"Well, yeah, bu-", whatever reasoning he was going to supply is cut off immediately by the rustling distraction of your grocery bags. He leans over to get a better view point, "Did ya' get something?"

With a grunt of effort you lift out a handful of bags and pass them to him. He effortlessly holds everything up with one hand.

"More food and some clothes for you. Ones that fit, hopefully"

At last, he stills, trying to process what you've said, "...For me?"

You grab the last of the bags and turn around to face him and the house, "Well I can't exactly let you walk around like that, I barely kno-"

Just like that, your life flashes before your eyes. You've never felt greater fear then to see those monstrous teeth and fangs rushing towards your face right now. At the last moment, his tongue lolls out and drags a long, wet lick along your face.

He buts his head against yours a bit rougher then you think he meant to, purring loudly. While you stand there trying to collect your wits, he pulls back, still purring, "I-!", his face transitions from awestruck to sincere, "No ones ever gotten me anything before"

You subtlety wipe the slobber off your cheek and try to smile through the bizarreness, "...No problem. Uh, let's go inside huh?"

Victor follows along happily, sneaking a glance through the various bags you gave him. Nothing of major note, at least... Not to him, until he finds a gallon of interest.

"Oh, you got more milk!", he remarks.

"Yeah, but what I have left should last for a li-"

You open the door to find a mess in the kitchen. Even from here, you can see the refrigerator light shining onto the floor, illuminating a whole host of scattered food items.

Victor clears his throat before you can explode, "Well, about that. The milk is all gone... And the eggs"

You turn around, barley holding in the anger, "Is there anything else?"

He blinks a few times. "I took a piss in the backyard. Oh, you mean in here! No. Er... Well I dropped the eggs and milk, but I cleaned them up!", he says proudly.

You let out a breath of hot air. That's something at least. You inquire about what he used to clean it, especially considering how unfamiliar he is with your home..

"I finished eating it", he states this as though it's obvious information.

You take a moment to process this information. So he... You think back to how that very same tongue that just licked your face. Eugh, you shudder.

He's lucky you keep a clean house.

But enough for now. You've had a long day, and you don't particularly feel like wasting more energy scolding him. Instead you both clean up and put away what you can. Afterwards, you send him off to put on the clothes you brought.

When he comes back, you're pleased to see everything mostly fits. A little snug maybe, but comfortable at least. Besides, if nothing else, at least he seems happy with it all.

You make some dinner, enough for a few days, to wrap up your evening. Everything done under the gaze of two very watchful eyes.

Still a little agitated from the state your house was found in, you want oh so much to be angry. Maybe a little petty. A little passive aggressive. He's already eaten anyway, and destroyed plenty of food in the process by leaving it out to warm.

He shouldn't get any of this.

When you're ready to serve yourself, he sits crouched down in the arch way, watching you sadly with big eyes. He's impossible to ignore. You shoot him a look. He wilts a little.

Not ready to let up, you take a seat in silence.

But... The more you look, the worse you feel.

Is it really his fault? Considering all you've learned about him so far, perhaps you should've gathered already that he wouldn't know how to make his own food. What else would you expect? If anything, you should probably be glad he didn't kill something and drag it into the house instead.

You sigh, and curse under your breath.

"Still hungry?"

Victor looks away shyly, then back to meet your gaze. He gives a tiny nod.

"Fine. Sit down", resignedly, you get up and make another plate. You've hardly had a chance to make it across the room before he's already found himself settled in a chair.

He purrs excitedly as you hand over the food, but before he can savage it, you interject, "This time, try using one of these", you hand him a fork.

For good measure, you even model how to use it for him.

He hates it.

Why bother? Why not just eat the food directly? But... He knows you're already upset with him, so...

He'll do it... but only for you.

Clean up is easy as it usually is and the night is young enough. Before crawling up to bed, you decide to make use of your living room. You stoke up a fire and drop down onto the couch.

Ah, peace at last...

Victor sits on the floor nearby and looks up at you forlornly. He feels bad for being, well, bad earlier today.

He wants to make it up to you, especially after how nice you've been to him today. Free clothes and a hot meal? He's never gotten treatment this wonderful in all his life.

Or at least... For what he can remember of it.

You cast a glance at him, "You don't have to ask to sit on the couch"

"...Are you still mad at me?"

You think about that for a moment. Ultimately, you've come to the conclusion that you both were a little to blame. Plus... You were originally on your way to turn him back over to his captors just this morning, so...

"No. I'm not mad"

Now's his chance.

In one fluid movement, he leaps up onto the couch from his spot on the floor. He flops on his side and headbutts your arm. His purrs vibrate the whole couch, and for a moment... The surprise is just enough to make you feel.

You're glad you didn't betray him.

In fact, you feel quite awful that you almost did.

You look down at the big man. Curled up and happy, sneakily trying to work his head onto your lap...

He has nothing but trust and adoration for you. You, an absolute stranger. All this time you've though nothing but how dangerous he could be... But has it ever occurred to you that perhaps he's just as nervous about you as you are of him?

Victor has successfully wriggled his massive head somewhat onto your leg. You move your arm so he can get more comfortable, then you rest it amongst his hair. His scalp is full of thick, blond strands, like a lion's mane. They surprise you with how soft they are.

With a little smile, you gently scratch the crown of his head.

For a quick second, he stops purring and turns his gaze up at you in wonder. He's never felt anything like this before. It feels so... Nice.

He rubs his hairy cheek against your thigh, purring a storm as your hand does it's magic.

Huff-rrrrr Huff-Rrrrrr Huff-rrrrrrrrr

You sigh, but this time... It's different. No frustration, and barely contained anger... Happy. It's... happy.

Maybe this is something you could get use to.

[iambrooke]

Rope. (2)

Masterlist.

Opening the door to the mess hall you walked over to your friends. There sat Hange with her normal toothy grin flashing. The moment she saw you she called out your name, her ponytail bouncing lazily as she spoke.

"Y/N! Come here," she yelled in excitement, standing up and waving her arms around.

That made a smile crawl upon your face. Although it was quite embarrassing you still smiled. There on Hange's wrist sat the bracelet that you had made her.

You had made her that when you just started training. Jean was in the middle of hand to hand combat with you when it got a little out of hand.

You had hit somewhere that obviously hurt him, badly. The next thing you knew he had his strong hands around your neck. You had clawed at his hand and face but it was no use, you were stuck.

Hange had seen what was happening out of the corner of her eye and defused the situation not so peaceful. She had grabbed Jean by the scuff of his neck and threw him to the ground with a thud.

She was angry, unbelievable angry. She had straddled him and started beating the living day out of him, that was until you pulled her off of him.

He had been grateful for that.

You now made your way over to the wooden table where Hange sat. She pulled out a chair for you, eager to get you to sit down. As soon as she also sat down she started blabbing.

You didn't listen to most of it as you were eating from the plate that was already there before you had gotten there. You weren't paying attention until she mentioned something, something that definitely caught your attention.

"So, I saw Levi with one of those bracelets that you make," she had said it so casually it was unbelievable.

"Hm?" You questioned, partly coughing as you had choked on your food.

She just turned her head to look at you and wiggled her eyebrows. The mischievous look on her face made you flush a deep red.

"Oh please, don't think I didn't see it. You must really like him huh?" She teased playfully. By now your face was hidden in your hands, hiding from anyone that could see you.

"I-I don't like him! I made it for him because I trust him," you stuttered, embarrassment written all over your hidden face.

She just nodded her head knowingly. It was obvious that she didn't believe you, she never did with those things.

Sure that your face had returned back to normal you removed your hands from your face, continuing to eat. Just as you were about to leave the table Jean walked over.

There on his wrist, like Hange’s sat a bracelet. Although he wasn't the nicest of people he was still your friend. He had been there for you numerous times as well as anyone else who had a bracelet. Well maybe expect from Levi.

"Hey Y/N, how are you doing?" He questioned, hitting your arm playfully.

"I'm alright actually you? I heard you got in a little argument with Eren over Mikasa," you said knowing fine well that he liked Mikasa.

"Shut up,"

That made you laugh. You stood up and walked away, feeling satisfied as the hunger that once was settled over you had disappeared.

————

You walked down the long halls making your way to your shared room with Armin and Sasha.

Walking down the silent hallway you started to him a small tune. You did that quite often although it annoyed a lot of people you knew.

It wasn't long before you found yourself standing outside the wooden door that you had opened so many times before.

Turning the handle you opened the door followed by the squeaking of the hinges. There sat Sasha with a loaf of bread, her cheeks full with food.

"Hi Y/N," she mumbled, trying to swallow the food in her mouth.

You walked over to your bed and started to remove your boots from you sore feet.

"Hey Sasha, where's Armin? I thought he would be here,"

She laughed when you mentioned Armin's name.

"What?" You chuckled lightly.

"Oh it's just that I might have hit him and well, his pants fell down," that made the two of you fall down in an up roar of laughter.

"How the hell did they fall?" You asked heaving in the little air you could get.

"Well uh he-" Just before she could finish a knock at the door interrupted her.

The two of you just looked at each other confused. You were the one to get up and open the door, quite slowly. When the door was fully opened confusion settled over your features.

"Captain?"

"Yes, I would like to see you. Outside at the stables in ten, alright?" Your captain, Levi said very robotically.

"Y-Yes sir, in ten," you nodded.

He gave you a nodded just before you closed the door. You just turned around and looked Sasha in the eyes.

"What the fuck just happened," you said, eyes widened.

"I don't even know," she replied, her facial expression matching yours.

"Well then, I better get ready, I wouldn't want to be late for captain daddy," you joked, skipping to the bathroom.

Laughs erupted from Sasha as you happily skipped away. That was a thing you did quite a lot to, not skip but made silly jokes. It never failed to make anyone laugh, well except from Eren when he has fallen out with you. Only if the joke is super funny you can get him to crack but that's besides the point.

All you did was give your face a splash of cold water and brushed your hair. After that you put your shoes on and said goodbye to Sasha.

Once again you found yourself walking down the hall. You wondered why Levi had asked you to the stables. Had you done something wrong? Maybe you hadn't cleaned them the way he wanted but you were pretty damn sure that those stables were spotless.

Just as you met the crisp outside air you wrapped your arms around yourself. Although you were wearing the small jacket that you were required to wear you were still cold.

There he stood, running his pale hand down his jet black horse's hair. You walked over almost silently, that was until you had reached him.

"Hello captai- I mean Levi," you said, correcting yourself as you remembered that he told you to call him Levi.

"I want you to get on your horse," he said very simply.

Although you were confused you did as he had told you too. You got your horse out of the stables and pulled yourself up so that you sat on the saddle.

He didn't say anything until he had mimicked your actions, getting on his horse too.

"I want to show you something," he mumbled, which was unlike him.

"Well this is a bit ironic isn't it?" You laughed a bit.

"What?" He said, sounding a bit like he was giving you a order.

"Never mind, why are we on our horses?" You asked as kindly as possible.

"You'll see, follow behind me," he commanded.

You obliged and followed behind him, wondering where he could be taking you. He had never did this with any other soldiers as far as you knew so why was he taking you somewhere.

It was impossible to know. His face was once again, unreadable. His black horses feet clanked against the floor beneath its large hooves.

"Where are we going?"

"Be patient," he replied.

"But you haven't even told me-"

"I said be patient, brat," he growled.

With that you stopped talking. You didn't want to get on his nerves even though you probably already have.

You rode for about another ten minutes in silence before he stopped. You weren't paying much attention but when the two of you stopped your mouth was open in awe.

It was a little clearing with trees that where so tall that you would have to use your 3DMG to get to the top. The light was carelessly shining throughout the leaves at the very top of the trees.

You got off of your horse and tied it to a tree. Walking over to the middle of the clearing you sat down and ran your fingers through the grass. Little yellow buttercups were littered around the vibrant floor.

"Yeah, I was right. This is really ironic," you laughed. Once again.

"What do you mean?" He questioned, confusion written throughout his voice.

He joined you on the grass, though he didn't sit down he just squatted.

"It's really nice here,"

"I know it is, why are you telling me something I already know?"

You felt comfortable around Levi for some reason. He wasn't the kindest person in the world but he would do anything to protect his fellow peers.

"I have something for you," he said breaking the unsettling silence that had settled between you two.

You looked at him, a excited look on your face. His hand pulled something out of his pocket.

A bracelet.

You reached your hand out and took it delicately in your hands, as if it was a thousand years old.

It was just plain, it didn't have anything on it. It was just the plain brown rope that you could get anywhere, even though it was very plain you loved it.

It seemed as if he had mimicked the knot that you had made on his so you put it on yourself as you already knew how to do it.

"It's lovely," you whispered.

You turned your wrist, admiring every little piece of rope that was incorporated into the bracelet.

"I though that I could give you one since you made one for me," he said staring ahead.

You didn't say anything else. You weren't sure that what you were going to would be a good idea but you still did it anyways.

Laying down you put your head in his lap. You didn't know when he had sat down but it didn't matter.

"What are you-" when he looked down you were already fast asleep, light breaths escaping your lips.

He didn't know what to do so he just let you lay there, sleeping peacefully. Although usually anyone touching Levi made him uncomfortable but this time it didn't seem to.

He felt happy knowing that you trusted him enough to allow yourself to settle with him next to you.

He was happy.

[bubble-booty-valkyrie]

Spirits were high as people cheered and drank loudly in celebration of their saviors, the music blasting throughout the small bar as they toasted to the two teams of Huntsmen and Huntresses who had been sent to their small, western town to help keep them safe from the grimm. Laughs were had, drinks were shared, and gifts were passed onto them as the town showed their appreciation for the young women and men who came in their time of need.

And they were certainly in need, the two teams having been fighting non-stop for almost a full 24 hours before the grimm finally tapered off and the town was considered safe, but not without sacrifice. Their clothes were ruined, ripped, and torn to near shreds, and since they didn’t expect such a high stakes mission, none of them happened to bring a change of clothes. Luckily, the town they just saved was very inviting, offering clothes, food, showers, and roofs over their heads, anything for the brave young men and women who just saved their lives.

Unfortunately, the town was what Weiss would call a ‘backwater dustbin’ where farming was the majority of work available, which meant that from heel to toe, most people were dressed like spaghetti western wet dream. From plaid shirts, stetson hats, and leather boots, it wasn’t exactly a shocker that team RWBY and Team JNPR were given clothes that made them looks just as much like cowgirls and cowboys like the rest of the town.

Most of them really didn’t mind, thankful for the clothes they were given. Others(Weiss) wanted to go home. Yang embraced her new look, wearing skintight jeans, a red plaid shirt, and a nice stetson, she looked the part of the beautiful southern bell, she of course forced Blake and Ruby to dress similarly, but Weiss would sooner run Yang through then where a cowboy hat.

RWBY’s sister team were any better off, the boys dressed in jeans and button ups, stetsons that a certain redhead demanded they wear, and boots just like the locals. Not too shabby, if the local girls had any say in the matter as they eyed the two up.

Pyrrha herself was dressed in a rather simple white dress, nothing too special, but it definitely accentuated her beauty.

Team Rwby(mostly Yang) were happy to drink along with the town, some of the younger, handsome men trying to woo the beautiful Huntresses for a fun night alone with any one of them, even a few focusing on the youngest of the team, much to her older sister’s amusement.

Pyrrha of their sister team, however, was getting the most attention, and unfortunately, she didn’t drink, so she was tasked with being the mother hen, and to make sure none of her friends got lost, or too drunk. Something she was failing at, honestly, but Yang was never someone who could be held down.

But, Pyrrha wasn’t worried about Yang, nor her currently-surrounded-by-lustful-women male teammates, she was worried about her fellow redhead.. Said little redhead was was currently stood up on a small stage while the crowed cheered at her to chug the mug of beer in her hand. And chug she did, downing that mug in just a few seconds much to the crowd’s yelling and egging on.

What was Nora dressed in? Beacon Huntresses obviously had a reputation, from being taught how to fight grimm and save people, they were taught to be the naughtiest, nastiest, best little sluts they could possibly. So while Yang did her best to set up a foursome with the men hitting on her, and Blake started grinding on a horse faunus, Nora had bigger plans.

Music blasted through the crowded honky tonk, a rather strange but fun mix of country and bass that only made Nora that much eager to give the lovely people a show. After the last drop of beer slipped passed her lips, Nora threw the mug to the crowd with a cheer, her hips swaying and shaking to the music as all eyes rested on her lewd state of dress. So just how was Nora dressed?

Nora’s large leather boots thudded against the small stage as she walked up to the conveniently placed stripper pole, wrapping her hands around it while she put her back to the crowd, giving them all a first class view of her absolutely obscenely small jean booty shorts as they rode up between her massive, round, pale, creamy smooth asscheeks like a thong. Nora specifically asked for the tiniest little shorts she could get, shorts almost perfectly made to frame her fat, jiggly globes of bubble booty, all the while her round, perky breasts bounced and jiggled in a tiny red white and blue bikini top.

Nora slowly spun around that pole, showing off every inch of her curvy, thicc body to the men and women who catcalled and whistled for more, the grin on her beautiful face the only thing they could see as the rim of her cowboy hat hid her eyes from view. The bass hit hard around her as she stopped with her back to them once again, both of her hands gripping that pole while she shook her wide, sexy hips side to side, her cheeks jiggling for them all while she got into the groove of the foreign music.

Nora bent at the waist and stuck her fat ass out behind her, jiggling her ass and just barely starting to bounce her ass to the beat, listening to the cheers and catcalls to shake her fat ass with a grin on her face. She would have done a little fancy pole dance, but she felt like the people here would appreciate something a little simpler, evident by the dollar bills thrown up at the stage for her to do more.

Nora was more then happy to oblige, starting to really bounce her massive booty up and down to the beat like a pro stripper, each lewd, obscene move of her extra thicc hips making the crowd go wild, quite possibly having been the first time they’ve seen a properly trained whore shake her ass.

The night was warm, and the bar was hot, sweat dripped down Nora’s powerful, thicc, juicy thighs as she stepped it up a notch, finally spreading her legs just enough to slowly slide her hands down the pole, and get into a deep, lewd squat that got her bouncy bubble ass even closer to the crowd, all the while slowly building up in speed to really start twerking and bouncing her fat ass up and down like a sweet little slut.

Sweat dripped and shined up Nora’s absolutely slutty, giant, pale, smooth, plump, globes of flesh as she bounced, jiggled, twerked, and wiggled them for the crowd as she looked over her shoulder with a nice, big, eager smile. Nora loved her job~

“Woo~! Shake that ass, Nora~!” Yang cheered, much to Weiss’s annoyance.

Nora gave a little wink and a tip of her hat, finally getting onto the main show. With a little extra twerk and bounce of her wide hips, Nora’s asscheeks met with a nice, loud, meaty clap, over and over again~ With each twerk and bounce, Nora’s fat, round cheeks met with a smack, perfectly clapping and jiggling for the crowd, and even being met with a nice hard smack from a few of the larger, bolder patrons.

Nora didn’t mind, simply grinning and giggling while shaking that ass even harder, almost begging for more spanks and gropes from the rowdy men she was entertaining.

Nora could see just how many men had lined up to watch her fat ass jiggle, each one with their own bulge, ranging from big, to fucking massive, and even a few of those horsey faunus had been drawn in hoping for a chance to get lucky with the little redhead.

Nora was gonna have a long, fun, hot, sweaty night, her cheeks clapping and slapping loudly as she continued twerking and jiggling her ass for them. Tonight, she was gonna be a real cowgirl, and every cowgirl needed a nice big horsey to ride~

-------------------------

I hope you all enjoyed this little collaboration between me and an artist friend of mine~! They’re super amazing, and I wanna thank them for making this cowgirl Nora for me~!

[nights-lament]

RWBY Volume 8, Chapter 1 Thoughts and Opinions

HELLO, INTERWEBS!!! At long last, we are back with more RWBY, and with it, more RWBY Thoughts and Opinions! After the absolute roller coaster that was Volume 7's cliffhanger finale, I can not imagine the insanity that awaits us this Volume. So, without further ado, here are my various thoughts and opinions on Chapter 1 of RWBY Volume 8, "Divide"

SPOILERS BELOW:

Hmm, starting off with a mysterious woman scrubbing floors, and...wait, is that...no...

I really like the way they juxtapose Cinder scrubbing with her scratching the chair. Very symbolic.

Yick, something about organic architecture just gives me the willies. I mean, is the whale aware that they double as a building complex? Can they feel the diabolical ongoings of it's rib cage? Creepy stuff.

Oof, outright taking credit for grabbing the relic, Cinder? Yeah, no way that's going to bite you in the ass.

Oh my. Mercury, Emerald, AND Hazel have new looks this season. I'm sure I'll warm up to them eventually, but right now Emerald's and Hazel's aren't really doing this. For Hazel, the outfit is all right, but the hair is a bit boring compared to his originals. Mercury's is ok, but is it just me, or is he basically wearing Yang's V4-6 outfit? I mean, it works, but still.

"Without you, I am nothing." That...didn't sound like the first time she's said that. It almost sounds like something Salem's drilled into her head for years. Cinder may be irredeemable in my opinion, but I do love a good tragic backstory.

You know, I guess would make sense for the crater to be the slums area. Can't imagine living directly under a floating landmass would be considered prime real estate.

Ooh, this old man has badger paws. I don't think we've seen that kind of Faunus trait yet.

D'aaww, Nora gave Oscar a soft hug rather than her usual glomp. So cute ^-^

I'm interested in how Oscar not telling them about Oz is going to play out.

Ok, their is a lot going on in this bar-base worth talking about, but for some reason I am fascinated by the picture of (i'm assuming) the founders in the background. What interesting designs they have. I feel like they have a story, and I would like to hear it.

Penny's dejected demeanor is giving me all of the feels Q_Q

Not sure how I feel about the rift forming between RWBYJNRO, though I guess we'll have to see where it goes. At least we have people like Jaune playing mediator.

I will say, though, I look forward to seeing Ren and Nora apart. As much as I love them as a couple, I'd very much like to see them operate as individuals.

God, Ironwood trying to manipulate Penny like that.

And there it is. Ironwood has truly revealed his true feelings, and his motivation for his attempt to launch Atlas. He isn't making a tactical retreat in order to form a new plan altogether. He's abandoning the fight altogether, leaving Remnant to die so that he and Atlas can live. It's funny, he wanted to avoid becoming Lionheart, but he was a coward too.

"Everything that follows will be on your hands". That motherf-

You know, we don't see a lot of corpses on this show, do we? Penny got better, Amber's screentime ended as she died, Roman got eaten, Pyrrha got an express viking funeral, etc, and a lot of others were only corpses for seconds before we never saw them again. They did a good job selling how proper dead Clover is here.

Ok, I don't know squat about Hospital layouts. Is it normal to have the morgue right outside of an emergency room? I mean, I guess it saves some travel time should things go wrong, but still, seems like a great anxiety generator for the patient, especially with both rooms having windows. "That's where I'll be going next."

I like the new metal arm. The fact that you can see all of the internal stuff makes it feel like it was quickly put together for the sake of urgency, while still looking cool.

Man, that rendition of "Hero" in the background. Chilling.

Is Winter getting a new look already? I must say. I like the look of the braces, and the ponytail is a vast improvement over the bun.

JESUS H CHRIST IRONWOOD!!! I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING OUT THERE TO ARREST THEM!!! THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A PRETTY BIG FASCIST MOVE, RIGHT!? HE JUST SHOT CHAD JAMES IN THE FACE!!!

What really interests me is everyone's reactions. Elm and Marrow are incredibly shocked, Harriet and Winter share their little look of doubt, and then there's Vine who just...doesn't react at all. Either that or it's all in his eyes, which we can't really see from here. Either way, not a huge reaction from him. Methinks the Ace-Ops and Winter might be starting to doubt the horse they bet on.

I find it interesting that Salem doesn't know how the Relic works, but then I suppose it makes sense, seeing as Oz probably placed them into the vaults almost immediately after finding them, so this is probably the first time she's even seen one in person..

Ok, OP time, and buckle up, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, because this one is going to be a doozy.

-First off, the song sounds pretty good, but it seems like it's going to go through the same cycle as the rest where it doesn't do too much for me at first, but has me headbanging like a metalhead by the end of the volume

- Mantle glitching out between peaceful and wartorn is a wonderful effect. Definitely fills you with a sense of dread.

-The individual shots of Team RWBY are absolutely gorgeous. Conceptually, it's the standard "where we started and where we're at", but the composition is worthy of a chef's kiss. I think I've found my new wallpaper.

-The Ace-Ops appearing on Clover's pin is nice, but what I find interesting is Harriet and Qrow appearing back to back, especially with Harriet looking so angry. Is Harriet going to double down on her loyalty to Ironwood and go after Qrow?

- It seems Robyn is going to be Qrow's main source of support this season, though the bars seem to suggest they might be in custody for a while.

-Oscar seems to be in Salem's stronghold, which doesn't bode well for our farmboy, also, WHY DOES SALEM HAVE DEMON WINGS!? Emerald's Volume 5 illusion wasn't this scary looking!

-I feel like their's symbolism showing Team RWBY's weapons paired together like that, but I feel like it's too early to say what of. Looks pretty, though

-Ren and Nora standing so far apart. It hurts my soul! Interesting how, while Ren looks away, Nora actually turns towards him.

-I didn't notice Winter's change of expression/outfit before passing by Weiss. She went from looking confident and slightly condescending to full with doubt.

-Not a lot to say about the quick shots of Whitley and Willow other then the fact that they both look worried. The image of the Schnee Snowflake shattering, however, is VERY interesting.

-I'm always a sucker for some good ol' chess symbolism. I find it interesting that while Salem's pieces dissolve into creatures of Grimm, Ironwood's simply dissolve, leaving him alone. Perhaps shooting a fellow councilman in the face right in front of his inner circle doesn't play out as well for him as well as he thought it would.

- Speaking of the classics, also gotta love me some reflection artwork. Watts seems to be working behind Pietro's back while Pietro (presumably) works to get Amity running, while secretly worrying about Penny, whose reflection cracks, possibly symbolizing her resolve. I worry for her.

- The snowflake turning into a flower petal in Ren's hand, while a similar petal passes Nora by. I don't know what this means, but I'm intrigued.

- It seems Ruby and Yang won't be completely be at odds, judging by the look they give each other before going into the action shot.

- Hmm, while Cinder pulls a Za Warudo on the fight scene, you can see a dejected Emerald and a pissed off Neo, still moving, among the heroes. Interesting...

-Almost as interesting as Cinder grasping her Grimm arm before being engulfed in flames. Perhaps Salem pulled a Wormtail's Silver Hand with that arm.

-Is this the first time we've seen the Staff of Creation in it's entirety? I remember wanting to include it and the Lamp in my RWBY Vol 7 spritesheet, but couldn't find any images of it's bottom half. I like the little jewel on the bottom.

-Wow, CRWBY went full Kingdom Hearts with the heroes falling through the ice, and I absolutely LOVE IT! This op has some of the most gorgeous visuals the series has ever seen.

-HAPPY EVER AFTER HAPPY? NEVER AGAIN Daaaaaaamn, that's awesome. It kind of reminds me of a line from Red Like Roses Part II, "This bedtime story ends with Misery Ever After". It's incredibly haunting.

-Almost as haunting as the sketchy art style that flashes in between the words, particularly the part that shows Penny's eyes going red before the rest of her does. Did we predict Watts hacking Penny a volume too early?

-The final shot of Crescent Rose alone stuck in the snow. Damn. The theme of this op seems to be "foreboding as all hell"

Damn. Damn! DAMN! This was, without question, the best OP RWBY has ever had. By, like, a lot. The visuals were some of the best the show has ever had to offer, the foreboding is through the roof, and the symbolism is incredibly clever. I don't envy them when it comes time to make Volume 9's, because this will be a very tough act to beat. I am so happy to have RWBY back, and I am both excited and terrified to see what this show is going to do next.

[shadows-twilight]

RWBY Volume 8, Chapter 1 Thoughts and Opinions

HELLO, INTERWEBS!!! At long last, we are back with more RWBY, and with it, more RWBY Thoughts and Opinions! After the absolute roller coaster that was Volume 7's cliffhanger finale, I can not imagine the insanity that awaits us this Volume. So, without further ado, here are my various thoughts and opinions on Chapter 1 of RWBY Volume 8, "Divide"

SPOILERS BELOW:

Hmm, starting off with a mysterious woman scrubbing floors, and...wait, is that...no...

I really like the way they juxtapose Cinder scrubbing with her scratching the chair. Very symbolic.

Yick, something about organic architecture just gives me the willies. I mean, is the whale aware that they double as a building complex? Can they feel the diabolical ongoings of it's rib cage? Creepy stuff.

Oof, outright taking credit for grabbing the relic, Cinder? Yeah, no way that's going to bite you in the ass.

Oh my. Mercury, Emerald, AND Hazel have new looks this season. I'm sure I'll warm up to them eventually, but right now Emerald's and Hazel's aren't really doing this. For Hazel, the outfit is all right, but the hair is a bit boring compared to his originals. Mercury's is ok, but is it just me, or is he basically wearing Yang's V4-6 outfit? I mean, it works, but still.

"Without you, I am nothing." That...didn't sound like the first time she's said that. It almost sounds like something Salem's drilled into her head for years. Cinder may be irredeemable in my opinion, but I do love a good tragic backstory.

You know, I guess would make sense for the crater to be the slums area. Can't imagine living directly under a floating landmass would be considered prime real estate.

Ooh, this old man has badger paws. I don't think we've seen that kind of Faunus trait yet.

D'aaww, Nora gave Oscar a soft hug rather than her usual glomp. So cute ^-^

I'm interested in how Oscar not telling them about Oz is going to play out.

Ok, their is a lot going on in this bar-base worth talking about, but for some reason I am fascinated by the picture of (i'm assuming) the founders in the background. What interesting designs they have. I feel like they have a story, and I would like to hear it.

Penny's dejected demeanor is giving me all of the feels Q_Q

Not sure how I feel about the rift forming between RWBYJNRO, though I guess we'll have to see where it goes. At least we have people like Jaune playing mediator.

I will say, though, I look forward to seeing Ren and Nora apart. As much as I love them as a couple, I'd very much like to see them operate as individuals.

God, Ironwood trying to manipulate Penny like that.

And there it is. Ironwood has truly revealed his true feelings, and his motivation for his attempt to launch Atlas. He isn't making a tactical retreat in order to form a new plan altogether. He's abandoning the fight altogether, leaving Remnant to die so that he and Atlas can live. It's funny, he wanted to avoid becoming Lionheart, but he was a coward too.

"Everything that follows will be on your hands". That motherf-

You know, we don't see a lot of corpses on this show, do we? Penny got better, Amber's screentime ended as she died, Roman got eaten, Pyrrha got an express viking funeral, etc, and a lot of others were only corpses for seconds before we never saw them again. They did a good job selling how proper dead Clover is here.

Ok, I don't know squat about Hospital layouts. Is it normal to have the morgue right outside of an emergency room? I mean, I guess it saves some travel time should things go wrong, but still, seems like a great anxiety generator for the patient, especially with both rooms having windows. "That's where I'll be going next."

I like the new metal arm. The fact that you can see all of the internal stuff makes it feel like it was quickly put together for the sake of urgency, while still looking cool.

Man, that rendition of "Hero" in the background. Chilling.

Is Winter getting a new look already? I must say. I like the look of the braces, and the ponytail is a vast improvement over the bun.

JESUS H CHRIST IRONWOOD!!! I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING OUT THERE TO ARREST THEM!!! THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A PRETTY BIG FASCIST MOVE, RIGHT!? HE JUST SHOT CHAD JAMES IN THE FACE!!!

What really interests me is everyone's reactions. Elm and Marrow are incredibly shocked, Harriet and Winter share their little look of doubt, and then there's Vine who just...doesn't react at all. Either that or it's all in his eyes, which we can't really see from here. Either way, not a huge reaction from him. Methinks the Ace-Ops and Winter might be starting to doubt the horse they bet on.

I find it interesting that Salem doesn't know how the Relic works, but then I suppose it makes sense, seeing as Oz probably placed them into the vaults almost immediately after finding them, so this is probably the first time she's even seen one in person..

Ok, OP time, and buckle up, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, because this one is going to be a doozy.

-First off, the song sounds pretty good, but it seems like it's going to go through the same cycle as the rest where it doesn't do too much for me at first, but has me headbanging like a metalhead by the end of the volume

- Mantle glitching out between peaceful and wartorn is a wonderful effect. Definitely fills you with a sense of dread.

-The individual shots of Team RWBY are absolutely gorgeous. Conceptually, it's the standard "where we started and where we're at", but the composition is worthy of a chef's kiss. I think I've found my new wallpaper.

-The Ace-Ops appearing on Clover's pin is nice, but what I find interesting is Harriet and Qrow appearing back to back, especially with Harriet looking so angry. Is Harriet going to double down on her loyalty to Ironwood and go after Qrow?

- It seems Robyn is going to be Qrow's main source of support this season, though the bars seem to suggest they might be in custody for a while.

-Oscar seems to be in Salem's stronghold, which doesn't bode well for our farmboy, also, WHY DOES SALEM HAVE DEMON WINGS!? Emerald's Volume 5 illusion wasn't this scary looking!

-I feel like their's symbolism showing Team RWBY's weapons paired together like that, but I feel like it's too early to say what of. Looks pretty, though

-Ren and Nora standing so far apart. It hurts my soul! Interesting how, while Ren looks away, Nora actually turns towards him.

-I didn't notice Winter's change of expression/outfit before passing by Weiss. She went from looking confident and slightly condescending to full with doubt.

-Not a lot to say about the quick shots of Whitley and Willow other then the fact that they both look worried. The image of the Schnee Snowflake shattering, however, is VERY interesting.

-I'm always a sucker for some good ol' chess symbolism. I find it interesting that while Salem's pieces dissolve into creatures of Grimm, Ironwood's simply dissolve, leaving him alone. Perhaps shooting a fellow councilman in the face right in front of his inner circle doesn't play out as well for him as well as he thought it would.

- Speaking of the classics, also gotta love me some reflection artwork. Watts seems to be working behind Pietro's back while Pietro (presumably) works to get Amity running, while secretly worrying about Penny, whose reflection cracks, possibly symbolizing her resolve. I worry for her.

- The snowflake turning into a flower petal in Ren's hand, while a similar petal passes Nora by. I don't know what this means, but I'm intrigued.

- It seems Ruby and Yang won't be completely be at odds, judging by the look they give each other before going into the action shot.

- Hmm, while Cinder pulls a Za Warudo on the fight scene, you can see a dejected Emerald and a pissed off Neo, still moving, among the heroes. Interesting...

-Almost as interesting as Cinder grasping her Grimm arm before being engulfed in flames. Perhaps Salem pulled a Wormtail's Silver Hand with that arm.

-Is this the first time we've seen the Staff of Creation in it's entirety? I remember wanting to include it and the Lamp in my RWBY Vol 7 spritesheet, but couldn't find any images of it's bottom half. I like the little jewel on the bottom.

-Wow, CRWBY went full Kingdom Hearts with the heroes falling through the ice, and I absolutely LOVE IT! This op has some of the most gorgeous visuals the series has ever seen.

-HAPPY EVER AFTER HAPPY? NEVER AGAIN Daaaaaaamn, that's awesome. It kind of reminds me of a line from Red Like Roses Part II, "This bedtime story ends with Misery Ever After". It's incredibly haunting.

-Almost as haunting as the sketchy art style that flashes in between the words, particularly the part that shows Penny's eyes going red before the rest of her does. Did we predict Watts hacking Penny a volume too early?

-The final shot of Crescent Rose alone stuck in the snow. Damn. The theme of this op seems to be "foreboding as all hell"

Damn. Damn! DAMN! This was, without question, the best OP RWBY has ever had. By, like, a lot. The visuals were some of the best the show has ever had to offer, the foreboding is through the roof, and the symbolism is incredibly clever. I don't envy them when it comes time to make Volume 9's, because this will be a very tough act to beat. I am so happy to have RWBY back, and I am both excited and terrified to see what this show is going to do next.

[deerheadlights]

Chapter 6 feat. 2 symposiums

 The whole voyage to the Piraeus had been a marvel for Glaukos. He’d sat alongside professional rowers, sampled some of the vintages in the cargo hold, and had listened to the captain talk about naval stories he could have only dreamed about a few days ago. Every word out of his mouth had been some sort of question. As they were unloading onto the dock, saying good-bye to the sailors he felt fast friends with, he had some more for Tydeus.

 “Why did you bring the horse?” Piling the leggy creature onto the boat had been a feat in itself, though it didn’t try to launch itself into the sea like Glaukos had feared. “I learned a long time ago from an old Persian, people take you a lot more seriously when you’re on top of a big horse.” Xanthe seemed happy to be on dry land, judging from her swishing tail. Or maybe she just had to poop again.

“Also I didn’t want to walk from the Piraeus to Athens again. She should be able to hold both of us for that short ride.” he casually vaulted onto the saddle. “Get on.” Glaukos looked at the horse. In his hamlet, only the richest man in town had a horse, and that one looked more like a large dog compared to this Persian beast. So although Glaukos had groomed a horse a few times, he’d never actually ridden one, much less jumped onto one’s back. “Yeah sure, let me just…” He tried to get his leg over its back, but he could only get up to the calf and had no leverage. “Never ridden a horse before?” Tydeus sighed, “I really should have seen that coming.” He turned around and pulled him on.

 “Just hold onto my belt, and don’t just sit flat or you’ll be in a world of hurt.” What other way is there to sit? Xanthe started moving right after Tydeus gave her reins a snap. She didn’t even walk, just moved straight to a high-kneed trot. Doesn’t hurt at all, it’s smoother than a boat ride! Tydeus whistled. “Well would you look at that, here I was thinking Persians just trained their horses to lift their knees like that for show! Instead they’ve got them giving rides smoother than butter.” “How do you know so much about Persians?” asked Glaukos. Secretly, he had been worrying that Tydeus had been some sort of mercenary for the Great King. “I was in the interior of Ionia with my friend, Alkyone’s father. His father had some shipping interests there, and well, you can’t really get along there unless you know Persian. And there may have been some political interests there, too.”

“So you weren’t exiled for being a mercenary?”

“Perish the thought. I’m exiled because every Theban is an exile now.” Glaukos gasped. He had heard about the destruction of the city of Thebes. Even in his sleepy village there had been arguments, that Thebes was one of the most ancient cities of the Hellenes, but it had aided the Persians during the previous wars and couldn’t be trusted. No wonder they had had “political interests.”

“So you’re--”

“Now that we’re nearing the city I’d rather not talk about such sensitive topics. Your job is to pack away my things and keep your ears open for, the mood of the city, threats… anything that seems important.” He took out a discrete pouch, Glaukos held back a gasp when he opened it. There were dozens more plaques and some gold Darics. He felt a bit resentful, compared to all this, what Tydeus had given his father was a pittance.

“This should be enough if you feel the need to grease anyone’s palm” Tydeus counted out three of the gold coins, stamped with a golden profile and narrow wedges of the Persian alphabet. “I’ll be going through the front of the house, you’ll have to go out back with the horse.”

---

It feels so good to be back in a civilized place, Alkyone reflected as a cosmetic slave put the finishing touches on her hair. After a bone deep warm bath and massage, she felt alive again. They had taken Marduniya to a separate part of the house, obviously he couldn’t be allowed in the women’s quarters. She found herself hoping the Persian was being treated well, almost dying twice in a fortnight was something to be pitied.

She hadn’t met with her host yet, but she was invited to the beginning of his dinner. Usually men and women dining together would be a breach of etiquette, but it was the feast of [idk]. A translucent scarlet cochineal veil was pinned in place over her bun, so that the color mingled with her bright yellow crocus dyed chiton. Sandals with gilding on the edges provided the finishing touch.

She allowed herself to be led through the narrow hallway to the lush courtyard. The klines had been arranged around an eel pond with white egrets stalking amongst them. She could see Nothon sharing a kline with the man who she presumed was Lethos, a woman seated by herself and another man opposite them. Hadn’t Tydeus called him a thug in Tyrian purple? The man was squat, with the kind of lumpy swollen ears you would find on a boxer. And he had on a white robe with wide purple stripes. He leaned forward as he saw her approaching, “Nothon, please introduce us to this sweet dove you’ve had the good fortune to travel with!”

“Lethos, Alketas, Phanessa, this is dear Alkyone, who has so patiently and good-naturedly persevered with the terrible hand dealt to her by exile.” His speech has really shaped up in front of “the boss.” The woman, Phanessa, smiled, “I’m so happy to be the one to tell you that you can make your home here, my dear.”

“You have already been so kind to me, Despoina, I cannot thank you enough,” Alkyone inclined her head.

“The pleasure is ours, Alkyone, daughter of Podaleirus. The families of great patriots should not be allowed to be cast out by the tyrannical regime.” said Lethos, lifting his arm in a magnanimous gesture.

“Now please, if you would share a kline with my wife and drink with us.” Usually ladies of good stature would leave just before the first drinks were served, but Alkyone had heard that those kinds of things were looser the further you got from the mainland. She climbed onto the kline, and Phanessa gave her a motherly squeeze on the shoulder. A large, tattooed Thracian appeared to hand her a full cup. She was surprised, men like that were usually sent to work in mines, or at their most domestic worked as stable grooms, not household staff due to their dangerous nature. This one seemed demure enough though, his eyes were downcast but he didn’t spill a drop. “To the continued health of Alkyone Podaleirid and democracy,” Lethos raised his cup.

“Also, might I add, to the continued good health of Tydeus son of Medon” Alkyone raised hers in turn. “Of course!” Alkyone took a deep sip. Oh my, some eastern vintage, and unwatered at that! Perhaps this wasn’t civilized country after all. The other man, Alketas, still hadn’t spoken, but she didn’t want to appear too forward by addressing him, but Lethos spoke to him next. “It seems King Alexander has, if inadvertently, struck a blow for democracy by freeing Sardis, now that he has defeated the Great King at Issus, who knows what will happen.”

“I doubt very much it was inadvertent, he has said from the first that he wishes to free the Greek cities of Asia from barbaric despotism.” Alketas had a smooth voice, but what he was saying struck Alkyone as unpleasant.

“Ironic that he should make such a claim after putting the Greek cities of Greece under fear of destruction unless they submit to him,” Alkyone sniffed. Usually she wouldn’t have been so forward, but she felt safe in the present company… it also could have been the wine. It was truly excellent, she took another sip. Alketas looked at her with cold blue eyes, “Alas, but did not Thebes fight against Ionian independence in the Persian Wars? If the King of the Macedonians wants to right the wrongs of that time, perhaps his strategy was part of that.”

“Oh, well how should Macedon be punished under his grand plan, did they not send a contingent to fight with the Great King as their loyal vassals?” Alkyone shot back and took another draught to punctuate her point. It was definitely the wine.

“What gives Macedonians the right to be saviours of the Hellenes? They were just some hill tribe, basically Illyrians until that King Philip was educated in Thebes. And even so he still had 7 wives like a barbarian.” Alketas’s nostrils flared, but his voice stayed cold and smooth, “The Macedonians are as Hellene as you or I. Hercules fathered their line of kings.”

“Didn’t he father the Scythian tribes as well? I don’t hear anyone calling them our fellow Hellenes. He even left those sons a belt and a bow, maybe he thought them more legitimate.”

“I see you are still distraught over the regrettable loss of Thebes.” He looked down his nose at her.

“Yes dear, your nerves must be so frayed, Nothon told us about that awful shipwreck you were in. It was just nearing time to retire anyhow.” Phanessa’s hand gripped like a claw, but as she tried to get up, she felt her head spin. Wine was wine, but this sort of effect seemed excessive. Phanessa was right next to her but she could barely hear her when she said “Nothon, take her to bed.” The last thing she felt were Nothon’s arms around her as she slipped off to sleep.

[torentialtribute]

Breaking down barriers: Khadijah Mellah delighted to be role model ahead of Goodwood ride

Whether dealing with a racehorse galloping at speed with her, or her position as flag bearer for British Muslims accepts women, Khadijah Mellah takes it all on her in

& I love to surprise people & she says with an insured smile.

And surprise people this 18-year-old from Peckham the most she will certainly play in less than two weeks from the weigh room at Glorious Goodwood waltz to participate in the Magnolia Cup, a ladies-only charity race in addition to that of Victoria Pendleton

[19459158] Teenage Muslim Khadijah Mellah will race in the Magnolia Cup, a ladies-only charity race will race in the Magnolia Cup, a ladies-only charity race "

Teenage Muslim Khadijah Mellah will race in the Magnolia Cup, a ladies-only charity race

] Although there is no official data, it is believed that Khadijah may be the first person to ever have been in a hijab in Britain.

City School and a & # 39; horse-mad girl & # 39; with great ambitions , which are not far away different. But how does she feel about a groundbreaking track for British Muslim women?

& # 39; Of course, getting up at half past five & # 39; morning and sometimes sitting on a difficult horse is tough, but what motivates me is that at some point I might be a role model & # 39 ;, she says Sportsmail

& # 39; When I am on Instagram and I look at people who are reasonably successful, I think: & wow, they have done that a lot, they are so much older. I just want someone someday to look up and think: & # 39; You know what, I can do that. & # 39;

I love it. I like to surprise people. When I bump into people and say, "What are you doing right now?" and I say, "I train to be a jockey," they say & # 39; What? & # 39;

& # 39; The first time I rode on the heath (the gallop in Newmarket), I was released

& # 39; I feel as long as I look, I know what i am doing, then it speaks for itself. Everyone can do it. & # 39;

<img id = "i-d6685dfd9df04707" src = "https://i.dailymail.co. uk / 1s / 2019/07/19/19 / 16262992-7266107-image-a-27_1563562627172.jpg "height =" 401 "width =" 634 "alt =" Mellah will compete against celebrity riders including Victoria champion Victoria Pendleton

<img id = "i-d6685dfd9df04707" src = "https://ift.tt/30G4f7C a-27_1563562627172.jpg "height =" 401 "width =" 634 "alt =" Mellah will compete against celebrity riders including Olympic champion Victoria Pendleton

But she may not have done it without the Ebony Horse Club of Brixton.

Khadijah, who has just completed her A-levels, grew up in the heart of Peckham, in a built-up area

Her father, a handyman, had only once had a horse while her mother had never driven home. people in her neighborhood would not know what a jockey was if she tried to tell what she was doing.

Yet a windfall came when her family moved to Sidcup for a moment and she discovered a stable that was only a short walk away.

Mellah will ride a four-year-old Haverland during the charity race on a four-year-old called Haverland during the charity race "

Mellah will ride on a four-year-old Haverland during the charity race

That introduction to driving had a lasting impact, but when returning to Peckham the idea of ​​keeping up with it seemed seemingly impossible.

The Duchess Cornish has been the club's president since April 2009, and that is his popularity when Khadijah signed up at the age of nine, it took two years to get rid of the waiting list, but she has since become a competent rider and convinced in February Ebony & # 39; s manager David Fleming her to participate in the Magnolia Cup.

The task ahead of us quickly became clear, an important step was the switch and from quiet riding school ponies to volatile thoroughbreds, and her first time driving gave her a good idea of ​​how difficult that would be.

& # 39; It didn't go so well, to be honest, & she says. I went too fast and caught up with a few people. I didn't know race horses were that fast. It really should have occurred to me. "

<img id =" i-13006bea607495ef "src =" https://ift.tt/2y0G5Iw a-7_1563573424318.jpg "height =" 420 "width =" 634 "alt =" Mellah had to wait two years before she became a member of Ebony Horse Club.

Mellah had to wait two years before becoming a member of Ebony Horse Club Ebony Horse Club

Trying to control half a ton of racehorse has different needed muscles for the Ebony mobs, and now she jokes: & I don't think I even had thigh muscles before! & # 39;

But perhaps it was more diligent than her driving style to change was the fitness test of the British Racing School, which she had to train for while reviewing exams and observing Ramadan. ] How did she find the bleep test, the squat tests, riding a static horse, the push handles and the boards? & # 39; It was brutal! & # 39; she answers quickly.

In the run-up to the big day, Khadijah rode every morning with trainer Charlie Fellowes and developed a good relationship with her horse for the race – a four-Haverland, which she describes as a & # 39; quiet guy & # 39 ;.

Her technique has received much praise from Royal Ascot-winning jockey Hayley Turner, who told her: & # 39; You look nicer than I & # 39; when they trained on mechanical horses together.

<img id = "i-4022f9b741f66856" src = "https://ift.tt/2Y6ClkB 2019/07/19/20 / 16262868-7266107-image-a-37_1563565986397.jpg "height =" 672 "width =" 634 "alt =" Mellah first discovered horse riding when she lived in Sidcup near the stable

Little Will []

prepared Khadijah for Goodwood when she and 11 other amateurs will be presented to the 25,000 strong Ladies & Day audience, including Olympic cyclist champion, Cheltenham Festival jockey Pendleton.

Millions more highlights of the race will be shown on ITV, while her story is also turned into a documentary – Riding A Dream – later will be shown this year.

The documentary is a co-production of ITV race presenter Oli Bell, who admits he says t much about British society, not just racing, that's her too

& # 39; She's a titan, & # 39; he says.

& # 39; At this time it is not only important for the eyes of the racing world to

& # 39; I absolutely want to see you, but the eyes of the world. & # 39; 39; come in the top three & # 39 ;, she says. & # 39; If I won, it would be monumental & # 39;

<img id = "i-86bbe8c91a900cf2" src = "https://ift.tt/2xUQmpP -8_1563573432564.jpg "height =" 483 "width =" 634 "alt =" For Mellah, a win in the Magnolia Cup race would be a & # 39; monumental & # 39; achievement "class =" blkBorder

For Mellah, a victory in the Magnolia Cup race would be a & # 39; monumental & # 39; monumental achievement

So, a life like a jockey beckons?

& # 39; But I want to go to college and hopefully get a diploma, then follow an engineering career. back to ride again. We shall see. "

With that she goes on saddles and a moment later she whistles past the camera crews and makes a quick walk through the gallopade.

But above all, this young woman is on her way to win a race.

Source link

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Unnerving Stillness

I’m not really sure what to say other than here is Part 7 of  ‘Retrograde Spell’ The back half of this just sort of happened...so yea...it’s excessively angsty and there are tons of triggers here i’m sure. For your own safety and reading experience please be advised of the following WARNING: Gore -Graphic Content in the form of Violence, Serious bodily harm occurs below, elements of horror included, a handful of characters have more than a rough time. I am placing this under the cut (except probably not because tumblr never listens to me) Feel free to check out the Master List for my other things here. The rest of this series can be searched under the tag ‘Retrograde Spell Series’. For those who continue I hope you enjoy :)

Admin T~

Tagging @little-mini-me-world

[Yn]

You arrived at the field set as the meeting point the exact same moment your sister did. Kanna jumped off her horse and the two of you tied the reins to your tachi then secured it deep into the earth.

“You’re certain Sasuke knows how to activate this barrier?”

“I have no doubt. I trust him like I trust you.”

“That’s all I needed to know.”

“Awfully careful when it comes to these boys aren’t we sis?”

“What of it.” You knew she was trying to ruffle your feathers, make the mood more casual before it got potentially deadly.

“Nothing.” A soft smile “let me see your stomach.”

“It’s no big deal” lifting your shirt high enough so Kanna could take a look “You’re right.” Her fist connected with your side, knocking the wind out of you.

“What the hell was that for?” you screeched, doubling over.

“For making me worry. Now, what way do you want to go? East or West?”

You had gone off to the west and were waiting, hoping the sky didn’t open up. You and Kanna had synced watches and had a general idea of when everyone should be arriving, which was anytime now, hopefully. Now you just needed to kill time, hopefully this was all for nothing.

You were squatting low, plucking at the single blades of grass when the air grew thick with the smell of electricity. A portal would open. Damn. That’s bad, very bad. Drawing your blade as space time ripped a hole in the sky you took off into the newly developing fray.

You were swinging like mad...because you were mad. There was a spy, someone was using you to fulfill their own needs and that sat terribly with you, lodging itself deep in your stomach. You didn’t stop, blowing through your opponents one by one as you got closer and closer to the group. The outline of the barrier could be seen peeking over the hillside and your body was buzzing, Kanna was close. Increasing your speed and the strength of your swing you pushed forward.

The two of you made eye contact and after two steps broke into a sprint towards the barrier, where a particularly large creature was trying to chip away at the protective bubble surrounding your friends. There was no hesitation, gripping your hilt you swung forward pushing all of your weight and momentum into the swing meeting with Kanna. Your blades crossed in dramatic fashion gliding effortlessly past the other as you halved the creature. Bursting into a fit of smoke, while always intriguing you didn’t have time to stand around and look. Spinning so you were back to back, you continued on.

The fight only last a few minutes once you joined with Kanna. You knew by the quick glance you had taken of the warlords that you looked as lethal as you felt. There were no words, a silent dance, one you and your sister had memorized to the height of its efficiency.  The last enemy met your sword, disappearing in a violent eruption of smoke. This was a problem, a very big problem.

[Mitsunari]

We rode back to Azuchi in tense silence, it was clear this was a serious situation. They looked ever the leaders they had claimed to be, sitting proudly atop their steeds clad in dark armor. The atmosphere was unsettling, mild uncomfortableness creeping in, their mannerisms so far removed from the daily personality we, moreover I, had gotten to know at the castle. Not that I minded. (YN) lead our caravan back towards Azuchi, while her sister took the rear, sure that with all of the attacks as of late it was mostly precautionary, until Kanna bellowed.

“Your seven!”

In an instant, (YN) pivoted her horse positioning herself directly between an assailant and Nobunaga. Sparks flew from the clash of steel, the blow was powerful enough to knock her back out of her saddle, in the moment it took to reset it’s swing, Kanna rushed the creature knocking it’s head clear off it’s shoulders. I hurried over out of concern and was stopped by a sharp look, and a motion I recognized quite well, though usually it came from Hideyoshi, telling me to pause take stock of the situation. I looked up.

Our company had been surrounded by a handful of hoodlums. When had that happened, looking towards the sky I could make out the faintest of purple vortexes closing. This was an ambush. The twins circled us, tightening our ranks, fighting off what they could until (YN) threw up another barrier and took off running in the direction of a  now opened orange and black portal in the sky. Four steps and she was gone, jumping up dissolving into the sky. As if trading places, Yuuto was dumped out in her stead. Clothes a mess, blood running down his arms and face, panic etched in his features.

Breaking into the bubble he pulled his sister with him.

“We were ambushed…(YN) responded to a mayday call. I don’t-” he swallowed hard “I don’t know if everyone’s going to make it.” He shared a look with his sister before planting himself in the grass and in a motion that looked similar to throwing, he moved a screen into view on the barrier wall. 

“It’s a live feed, I use it to monitor all of our officers while they fight. I’m not there but I should be able to tell how it’s going based off of everyone’s vitals.” He explained, finishing by pointing out his Aunt Yui and Aoi, His father Haruto, and (YN) on the different screens, helping us differentiate them from the first through  fourth units. Adjusting the controls on his wrist voices could now be heard crystal clear within the bubble.

The distinct sound of battle echoed off the malleable walls of the barrier, you could hear shouts ringing out from each of the officers, all commands to update positions and re-work the battle formations. I closed my eyes, attempting to envision their positions based on the descriptions alone, trying to calm my mind, wishing I wasn’t just a bystander in all of this. Calculation after calculation to help perceive (YN)’s position, it all seemed alright and they sounded like they had made strides when a sharp cry rang out.

“HARUTO” “DAD” an unknown female and (YN) screamed simultaneously.

There was audible turmoil and his screen flashed, the lines jumping rapidly before it flat-lined and went black. Next to Yukimura, Kanna whimpered as Yuuto gripped the edge of his shirt harder. As his knuckles turned white another shrill cry ripped through the bubble as Aoi’s monitor shuddered and went black. Tears were now visible, welling in Kanna’s eyes, as Yukimura gripped her hard around the waist trying to offer some semblance of comfort. There was a grunt in a familiar voice...and breathing became haggard. My heart rate picked up matching the monitor on (YN). As it seemed to be losing control the familiar orange glow lit up the sky and a several bodies tumbled out of the sky, landing hard in the grass. Shutting with a powerful gust of wind that ravaged the treeline in the immediate area as all the monitors on the screen went black, all but Yui’s and the third and fourth regiments.

[Yukimura]

Kanna grew visibly more distressed by the minute as more and more screen blinked out into oblivion. She jerked in my arms as the bodies tumbled from the sky and a wail ripped through her chest, collapsing against me as everything went black but the screen for Yui. No...that couldn’t be good, I know Yuuto said people wouldn’t make it, it was par for the course when it came to war...but could they have been completely obliterated like that? (YN) had just been standing here minutes ago, participating in one of the most lethal of dances I had ever seen. Would they have succeeded if Kanna had gone or would she have succumbed to the same fate?

“Yuuto…” her voice quivered “someone has to go get them”

He gave a half-hearten nod, but something didn’t feel right. Everyone was on edge, and as he made to break through to collect his Aunt and fellow soldiers, Mitsunari stopped him.

“I wouldn’t.” bewilderment swirled about the enclosed space as he looked right at Kanna, the pain of potential loss clear in his eyes.

“Something isn’t adding up. I ran countless scenarios and only one resulted in the loss of (YN). All of which meant the demise of all others in the area, that includes Yui and your ranking officers.”

“Mitsunari, man, I know it hurts, and you’re scenarios are good in theory but in practice life is way more messy. You have no idea what went wrong up there. We can’t just let them lay half mangled in the field surrounded by enemies.” Masamune made a valid point

“No. he’s right.” red streaks prominent on Kanna’s face. Pain shot through my chest as I looked at her. “Something doesn’t fit. Why would everyone else go black at the same time, and why haven’t they started attacking? Also, (YN)’s barrier is still up. There’s no way that would be possible if she was dead right?” she looked at Yuuto for clarification “Right?”

“She put this up?” His eyes widened “Mitsunari. You may be on to something.”

“I think if we plan to go get them, we should be cautious. Did you ever figure out who the spy was?”

“I had it narrowed down...but all signs are pointing in one direction and that..doesn’t look good.” Gesturing to the members of the third and fourth regimen standing backs towards one another, circling Yui menacingly while keeping an eye on the growing army of QA soldiers.

That’s right, there was a spy wasn’t there. It’s why this entire meeting had happened like this in the first place. Giving Kanna a quick peck on the cheek, tasting the salt from her tears, she leaned into me before stepping forward towards Yuuto.

“I’ve got a plan.”

[YN]

You never got calls to your personal line. Ever. But in the moment the monster had been beheaded you received two, one from your Aunt Yui requesting back up and another from your Aunt Aoi pleading with you to keep you and your sister away. Something was wrong, you knew it was impulsive, but Yui had always been the planner, assuming your aunt’s pride as you mentor was getting in the way you sprinted off to respond to the may-day call. As it stood Yui’s order came first, and she had more authority over you than Aoi as the armies tactician. 

The familiar rush of traveling through time hit you and you were spit out to your home on fire, every person embroiled in battle with the Q.A. Oh gods. Mizuko came running up to you, a wild rush of blonde hair and green eyes.

“What are you doing here? Aoi-sama explicitly stated she didn’t want you to come.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as you broke out into a nervous sweat, “Yui-sama called me, her orders for a may-day override Aoi’s”

“What?” her eye’s went as wide as saucers as she parried a blow from an encroaching QA soldier. Lifting her wrist to her mouth she spoke “Aoi-sama, it would appear that Yui is the traitor.”

You blood ran like ice in your veins. There was no way, but logically it made sense, she had known all your plans, every position, exactly how many soldiers you had at your disposal and where they were being sent. The only real question that remained unansered was why? Why had she done it?

“(YN) is here, she got a private mayday from Yui, after your call went out.” a pause “I understand” turning to me as she lowered her arm, eyes burning like the fire raging behind us. “Aoi has given you command of the second regiment as well. Yoshiyuki is headed our way. We randevu with the rest of the team to circle back and hold the line.”

You met up off in the forest just beyond the citadel walls, everyone gathered up. At your disposal you had four archers Hisame and Mari from the first regiment who would pair up with Koharu and Yumi from the second to give ground coverage from different vantage points throughout the citadel. Always making sure Aoi, Haruto, and yourself were in someone's sight. Four tachi, Tsubaki and Shiro from the first and Ohta and Tora from the second would be heading off with the Naginata wielders Hinata and Tatsuya; the first regiment going north and the second going west to hold the line. Mizuko your general and Yoshiyuki the leader of the second division would be coming with you entering through the middle of the fight to subdue Yui and the QA.

--

If you weren’t sure Yui was the traitor you were now. She stood on the crushed monument to the previous clan leaders, shouting orders to the QA, as she rushed forward. In the blink of an eye she had a sword through the stomach of your father. You couldn’t control it, your scream ricocheted off the tattered building in front of you. She smirked, as he fell from her blade with a sickening thud. Aoi looked up, eyes pleading with you as she engaged her own sister. You advanced in a blind white rage the only things holding you to reality was the swift metallic clang of Mizuko’s blade in tandem with your own and Yosiyuki’s revolver firing off at the enemy between deep swings of his uchigatana.

Everything was a cluster of noise and chaos, people were everywhere, fighting, running, hiding, the citadel was aflame, and now both your father and your Aunt Aoi were mortally wounded, lying side by side near the port crystal at your aunt Yui’s feet. You knew, instinctively, your father had passed already, the one sparring thing your traitorous aunt had done was grant him a swift passing, but Aoi lay in the dirt and blood groaning and gasping for air.

“Yoshiyuki, cover Aoi. Mizuko go find Ryoko and bring her here…I’ll take care of Yui.”

“But…”

“That’s an order” and they were off.

There were no words to be had, you collected your thoughts, centering yourself. No battle could be won off adrenaline alone, and you knew that. She smirked as she turned from her sister “I’m so glad you could make it to the party dearest niece. Shall I send you off the same way I did your loving father and teacher?”

Be calm. Stay calm. She was trying to goad you, she had a sharp tongue, and every mock battle with your sister had prepared you for something like this. You ignored her, as you both danced a dangerous dance. Sparks flying where steel met, you had to be guarded, pace this out, otherwise she could, and would take you. You were wearing her down, making headway, or so you thought, as if struck by lightning a searing heat ripped through your left arm. You followed her blade with your eyes noticing that it had pierced clean through your shoulder, she changed her grip and striking true once more pulled up cleaving your arm from its socket. You took two more swings, filled with the rest of your will, landing a glancing blow across her face, nothing deadly, but it would scar, a permanent reminder of what she had done today. The world around you tunneled, you heard a menacing laugh, and several shouts, many of which were your name. Your weight shifted and you fell to the ground, landing hard in the dirt just beyond your already fallen family members.

The ringing was getting louder and the deep black abyss you had been slowly growing comfortable with began to glow white. As it did you felt your sides prickle and you found yourself nauseous as you were rolled over, now looking at Mizuko and Yoshiyuki, no longer able to make out what they were saying. They looked worried. I wished the didn’t, I wanted to tell them that I felt wonderful. That there wasn’t anymore pain, that it was going to be okay. As I felt myself slipping I thought of my brother and sister stuck completely unaware of what had just transpired and I thought of Mitsunari, his sweet smile, his clumsy nature, his warmth - oh how I wanted to feel that warmth. My eyes burned as they closed. I’m sorry. Everyone I’m so sorry.

[fourcountriesfourmonths]

Weirdest. Thanksgiving. Ever.

Welcome to the last rural week installment of this blog! Sorry it’s taken me a while to get around to writing it…in the midst of the final crunch these days.

To start off last week - Monday was a national holiday and because of course we still had class, we got to experience an empty city.  There may have been minimal lunch options available, but we were thankful for an empty bus ride in the morning.  We had a cool opportunity that night to interview our host mom as part of our research methods class and we got to learn a lot of things about her life here in Argentina that we wouldn’t have otherwise.  On Tuesday we headed off to our final rural stay in the town of San Antonio de Areco, about two hours outside of the city of Buenos Aires.  Unlike our last two rural stays this one didn’t feel quite as authentically “rural Argentina”.  The most rural parts of Argentina aren’t accessible by a couple hour bus ride so we settled for this town, known as the Capital of Tradition for its gaucho heritage which is their version of a cowboy.  It felt sort of like a cross between a ranch town and a beach town in the midst of its off-season.  We got to see some gauchos in action, running with horses and wrangling a cow, and heard a little about their history.  We participated in a traditional asado (barbecue), getting to see how they cook the meat, and then getting to taste the DELICIOUS food.  We met with members of the municipality who talked to us about the three pillars of their strong local government which work to try to keep members of the community within San Antonio de Areco.  They do this through initiatives regarding housing, education, and job opportunities.  

In general, the week was a nice break from the usual schedule…for once we had a decent amount of free time and minimal assignments to work on! The group was divided up into two hostels for the week and it was so much fun to be living with more of the group again. We had a lot of group meals, played games after dinner (if you want a super fun game look up Salad Bowl and get on playing that ASAP), went on runs, and my hostel had a tiny little pool which we utilized at the beginning of the week when it was a scorching 92 degrees out!  Those first few nights in a 10 person room with that heat were something else, but it was nice to be surrounded by some of my closest friends again.

Thanksgiving also fell during this week and boy was that a day from start to finish (or what I’m going to refer to as “The Thanksgiving Shit Show”.)  For reasons that I can’t disclose because they aren’t my story to share, I was up for most of the night on Thanksgiving Eve and had to deliver some unpleasant news to the larger group in the morning.  Because of this discussion, my lack of sleep, everyone being a weird place from not being with their families for the holiday, along with starting the day with a “what we’re thankful for” share that made me especially sad, the day was off to a bit of a rough start.  It was also the first day it had rained the entire week and by rained I mean torrentially downpoured.  Half of the group had to walk in the rain to visit a clinic and my half of the group visited the local hospital, but the combination of having a not very informative tour, on top of all the other things that had already happened that day, everyone was in probably one of the lowest spots collectively we’d been at this entire semester.  But wait the day is only half over!  After we had lunch things were starting to look up as we headed to our case study visits.  Maternal and Child Health got to meet with a woman who spoke to us about the “respectful delivery” program that Areco uses as its birthing model.  Women are giving a lot of power over their deliveries and are able to choose not only who is with them while they give birth in terms of support, but in what way they want to deliver: the traditional method of lying down, squatting holding onto suspended fabric, or seated on a type of chair.  This was an incredibly cool interview and was full of all the things that get me SO excited about women’s health.  The woman touched on a lot of what I’d learned and read about for a research paper I wrote my freshman year of college, the business of birth in hospital settings and unnecessary interventions, and it got me JAZZED.  After coming out of that meeting I was beginning to ponder if being a doula or having a job that is more directly involved in this niche of women’s health would be something I’d consider in the future.  Who knows, but very cool!

As you can see the day started to turn around from there and it ended up containing one of the most fun memories I think I’ll have of this trip: our makeshift hostel Thanksgiving.  When I hopped out of the shower, some of the girls in my hostel were busy decorating the place with balloons and candles and drawing those hand turkeys for everyone that you make as like an art project in elementary school.  Music was playing and everything was all of a sudden incredibly festive.  People from the other hostel started to arrive and then our country team showed up with loads and LOADS of chicken, salad, bread, mashed potatoes, and apple crumble that they had gotten catered especially for us to simulate the holiday.  We ate and drank wine together, sitting on the floor and laughing about how the day had completely turned around. Throughout the week one of the student-run committees had decided to organize a superlative/paper plate awards ceremony for the dinner and had sent out a form called The IHP Dundies (for you Office lovers out there) so people could fill it out and vote for their fellow peers.  They presented the awards after dinner and the range of tailored awards based on peoples personalities and inside jokes was absolutely HILARIOUS.  I got the “most likely to be reincarnated as an otter award” because of my love for water and the way I rub my eyes apparently?  Sam has been telling me throughout the entire semester that when I rub my eyes I look like a small mammal and everyone always FREAKS out when I do it so it was hilarious and fitting that I had to do a demonstration for the whole group once given that award. After that, another girl organized an activity where we all attached papers to our backs and wrote messages to each other (kind of like a year book) which just kept the love right on flowing.  Even the clean up process was fun as Tess and I worked an assembly line of dishes and others cleaned up the dinning room area.  It was honestly some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time and I was so grateful to be able to be celebrating Thanksgiving in this non-traditional way with this group of 30 that I’ve gotten to know so well over the semester.  For a day that started off with tears and included so many bumps in the road, it sure did turn out to be an a-okay day and for that I am thankful.

When the week was over, we traveled back to the city and got some lunch at a fun dumpling and beer restaurant, then attempting to go to a sports bar to watch the 2nd game of a rivalry fútbol series that was taking place in the city.  Unfortunately, some rowdy fans threw things at one of the teams’ busses and the game got delayed and rescheduled which was a bit of a bummer because we wanted to take part in that part of the culture here before leaving, but what can you do.  That night we did the full on Argentine going out experience which started with me leaving my house at about midnight to start meeting friends and ended at about quarter to 6 in the morning with the sunrise before heading home to sleep.  Glad I can check that experience off my list - not a sustainable lifestyle at all!  Finally on Sunday, after approximately four hours of sleep (from 6:30am-10:30am) my roommate and I ventured to the San Telmo market to explore for a bit, and then later, joined by my pal Carlie, we head to La Boca to see a colorful street called Caminito that was reminiscent of the original immigrant housing that once stood there.  There we ate empanadas, looked at art, and talked about the semester thus far.  

It’s really crazy to me that in a few days I will be starting the final week of this program and I’ll be back home with all you people and the cold, cold weather once again.  I’m really looking forward to being back, but know that the transition is going to be hard, especially because some of my closest friends will now be dispersed all over the U.S. and across the globe.

I’ll post the blog from this week in a few days, thanks again for reading.  Love you!

Em

[peaskyblonders]

Gangsters [2]

A lot of backstory to Charlotte's character in this chapter, Enjoy!!

2466 words, I'm terribly sorry.

Charlotte stirred in her bed as she slept, her nightdress sticking to her skin and sweat making its way down her back and forehead. The nightmares were recurring, they never seemed to leave her, no matter where she went. They always followed her.

She could see fellow soldiers next to her, she took a deep breath as Padraig Pearse read the proclamation outside of the GPO. She fiddled with the gun in her hand as she stood next to one of the leaders. She had to remind herself she was doing this for the good of her country, people were relying on her. This was the start of the war.

As Pearse finished she got herself positioned, waiting for British soldiers to arrive. If they wouldn't give Ireland their independence, then Ireland will come get it themselves. She could hear the sounds of their horses on the concrete, she peeked out of the window quickly and could already tell they were outnumbered, but it was too late to back out now, there was too much at stake. She looked towards Padraig and waited for him to give them the signal to start firing, saying a silent prayer in her head when she briefly closed her eyes.

She quickly rose up from her squatting position when it was shown. Immediately moving towards the window and firing at the British, moving out the way every few seconds to catch her breath. Turning back around she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. She screamed in agony as she looked around the building, seeing her fellow soldiers and some leaders on the floor. She turned around and continued to fire, ignoring the blood dripping down her shoulder. She had tears in her eyes and couldn't see where she was firing, only stopping when she heard a woman scream. Her head shot up as she noticed a civilian on the floor, a bullet in their stomach, staring at her direction in horror.

Charlotte shot up from her bed, tears in her eyes and the familiar feeling of guilt in her stomach. She tried so hard to remove the image of the woman from her mind, but she continuously failed. She looked at the pocket watch on the side of her bed and read the time. 6h00s. She ran her hands over her face and climbed out of her bed. She dunked her head into a bucket of cold water and quickly got dressed, putting her riding boots and coat on before leaving her house. She locked the door quickly and looked across the street. She saw one of her men watching her house from the door of a shop but chose to ignore him.

She lit a cigarette as she made her way to the black car parked outside of one of her neighbours' houses. Charlotte banged her fist on the top of the car, waking up her driver, who upon seeing Charlotte apologized furiously.

Charlotte shut him up as she raised her hand. "The stables" she spoke as she blew out a puff of smoke. Her driver nodded his head and started the car. The car ride was silent. The memory of the 1916 Rising replaying in Charlotte's mind.

------------

Charlotte allowed the horse to bring her wherever she wanted, she needed time to clear her head before any of her men saw her like this. She needed to be collected each time they saw her, she was essentially their leader. Upon seeing people walking around the streets she decided it was time to bring the horse back to the stables and begin her day. She had work to be done, she needed to calculate the books and research the buyers interested in the horse.

That made her start thinking about Mr Thomas Shelby, she didn't know if she trusted him enough to buy her horse. He seemed like a well-calculated man, but he didn't seem capable of loving himself, let alone a horse and Charlotte always found the best buyers for her horses, she believed they were beautiful and intelligent creatures and as a result needed to be treated like it.

Charlotte was too focused on reaching the stables before 8h30 that she didn't notice Thomas Shelby watching her from afar, he was impressed with how graceful she looked on top of the horse, he also noticed how beautiful the horse was and how similar it seemed to the one John was describing to him the other day. He pursed his lips as he put out his cigarette and walked back into the betting shop, continuing on with his days' work.

Thomas was walking towards his office when a man stopped him. "You don't happen to know the odds of tonight's race d'ya?" the man had short black hair and an Irish accent. Thomas stared blankly at the man.

"Shit sorry" the Irish man spoke as he pulled his hand out of his pocket. "I'm Wayne, don't really know how this betting thing works" he rambled on. He placed his hand back into his pocket when Thomas didn't shake his hand. Thomas was about to tell him that he could either bet on a horse or get lost when John suddenly approached them, he slapped his hands on Wayne's shoulders and grinned at Thomas.

"Tommy we've got loads of money from people betting today, tell the poor sod who's gonna win and let him bet a little on it" he spoke. Wayne smirked. So the rumours are true, the Shelbys do actually fix races. Interesting.

A few moments later Wayne walked out of the betting shop with a slip in his hand and a grin on his face. Bunch of idiots he thought to himself as he made his way towards Charlotte's house, where they were all to meet up at 9h00s.

----------

Charlotte strolled into her house and was immediately greeted by most of her men. "Ok let's get this started. Speak," she demanded as she lit her cigarette and paced around her living room.

"Your accounts seem to be calculated correctly"

Charlotte scoffed "As they always are"

"The IRA want to know how you're getting on"

"Remind me to write to them" she replied as she inspected her nails.

"I joined the Peaky Blinders"

"You joined the Peaky what now?" Charlotte stopped walking as she looked at one of her close friends, James. He shrugged as he continued. "Its a good place for information," he said nonchalantly.

Charlotte was about to protest to his stupid idea when Wayne spoke up. "He's right, they fix races, Lottie. If we can form some type of business with them, we can get lots of money. They're also a family! I met Thomas' brother today in their betting shop-" "Why were you in Shelby's betting shop?"

"Not important. But what is important is that families are hard to take down, so we might as well form an alliance with them" Wayne stated, fellow men, nodding their heads in agreement. "Families may be hard to take down, but when they do get taken down they either stay down or a war breaks out. Do you really think you're ready for another war, Wayne? " Charlotte argued, raising her eyebrow and crossing her hands, her cigarette between her lips.

"I think you should trust me on this, we'll be stronger united with the Peaky Blinders than we would be on our own and that's a fact" Wayne stated as he cocked his head to the side, trying to read the expression on Charlotte's face. "I can't have any of you lads getting hurt, you came here with me and I'm not about to lose any of yous because of the Peaky Blinders"

"We're strong men, Lottie" one of the men shouted from the couch, the rest shouting in agreement.

"If I remember correctly, we came here for you, you didn't force us- but we still came, because we're loyal to you and if you don't think we'd risk our lives for you, well you need a wake-up call" James spoke as he stood up. "Now I recall you coming here to speak to a certain inspector"

"Has anyone actually seen that inspector?" Charlotte wondered. "He's at the Garrison tonight, gonna be looking for Thomas" James spoke and smirked when Charlotte furrowed her eyebrows at him. "What? The peaky boys talk"

"Let's go to the Garrison boys, I think we have some unfinished business to attend to" Charlotte grinned as she changed into some heals and applied her lipstick before heading out the door, 10 of her men following slowly behind her, James, Rogers and Wayne by her side.

------------

Charlotte strutted into the Garrison for the second day in a row, there were fewer people in the pub this time considering it was still early in the morning, but she did immediately spot Inspector Campbell and Thomas sitting at the bar. The inspector spotted her also, gulping heavily when she started making her way towards him.

"Inspector how lovely to see you" she spoke sarcastically, she turned towards Thomas and greeted him briefly, before turning all her attention towards the Inspector. Thomas looked at her with curiosity, pondering how she could possibly know the inspector. "I believe we have some unfinished business to discuss, hmm?" she continued. This intrigued Thomas even more, he couldn't come up with an idea of how they could possibly know each other, were they an item before? Possibly. Charlotte seemed like she had better taste in men though.

Charlotte took the inspector's silence as a sign to continue. "If I remember correctly, during our last encounter I had placed a knife in your shoulder after you tried to rape me. Does this ring any bells?" Charlotte flipped her hair behind her shoulder as she glared at the inspector. She leaned in towards him, not caring that Thomas was sitting to her right. She needed this confrontation.

"Yes, well I recall you liking the plan until it actually happened" the inspector scoffed. His comment made Charlotte's blood boil. "You never mentioned anything about using me for your pleasure. I only happened to find out what a sick bastard you are when you started to make advances towards me!" she practically growled as she took a step closer to him. She poked her finger in his chest and looked him dead in the eye. "Now if I hear you've even thought about laying a hand on a woman, I won't hesitate to track you and kill you myself. I don't care if the lady is a whore if she doesn't want you to touch her and not like I'd blame her- then don't. Women deserve to be treated like ladies regardless. But you, on the other hand, deserve to be treated like the piece of shit that you are" She then dug her heel into his foot. "Do I make myself clear, Inspector?"

The inspector nodded, his face turning a bright red colour, Charlotte removed her foot and nodded towards the door, where she knew her men were waiting for him. "Get the fuck out of my sight"

The inspector rushed to the door, not once looking back at Charlotte.

Charlotte sat down where the inspector had previously been sitting, she lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply, she then faced Thomas, who was looking at her with a look that she couldn't recognise.

" I apologize for my behaviour, I slept for six hours today, which is double the amount I usually sleep so I'm quite disoriented" Thomas' shook his head at her statement, and suddenly remembered the horse she was riding earlier.

"I've been thinking, and I'm guessing your business has something to do with horses" Thomas stated, never once taking his eyes off the brunette who sat in front of him, she was unlike any girl he had met before, it was fascinating. It also worried him, the encounter he just witnessed had shocked him. He figured Charlotte was troubled, but so was he.

Charlotte laughed, a sound that Thomas enjoyed. "Yes, I train them. I'm actually looking for someone to buy one, you don't happen to know somebody interested do you?" she asked innocently. "I am, but I'd have to see the horse up close. The Peaky Blinders are hoping to get involved with racing" Thomas says before placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

"I'm sure that can be arranged, Thomas" Charlotte answered, crossing her legs and looking towards the barmaid, she noticed her watching herself and Thomas eagerly but paid no attention to it, she didn't have the time nor the energy to deal with irrelevant people.

"So, I'm guessing that's what your business is? Dealing with horses, training and selling them?" Thomas inquired, leaning closer to her so she could hear him.

"The majority of it yes" She spoke, throwing her finished cigarette into Thomas' glass of whiskey, which he chose to ignore.

Thomas raised his eyebrows. "The majority?"

Charlotte turned her body towards Thomas. "You're not the only one with secrets, Mr Shelby. Everybody has their own little skeletons in the closet. They're what makes life a bit more exciting" she spoke slowly, the quietness of her voice and their close proximity made the conversation they were having more intense, more intimate, and of course, she could feel the barmaids eyes on her, but that's what made it even better.

Thomas raised his eyebrows at her "I'll be the one to meet with you to see the horse." He stated, changing the topic of their conversation. He didn't trust her enough to allow any of the family or any of his men to be alone with her. He only knew her name and part of her business but was determined to find out more.

"I'm free whenever you are" Charlotte responded.

An idea suddenly popped into Thomas' head, and he just couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. "How about now?"

Charlotte's eyes widened a fraction but she quickly composed herself before Thomas had the chance to notice. "Off we go then, Thomas"

Thomas stood up from his stool and brushed the dust off his jacket as he looked back towards Charlotte who was also stepping off her chair. She grabbed another cigarette out of her pocket and went to look for a lighter. Thomas chuckled at her habit and quickly grabbed his lighter out of his front pocket and took a step towards her to light it for her, he was almost certain she could feel his breath on her neck. "Call me Tommy" he spoke as he lit the cigarette, looking into her eyes when he was finished.

"I'll call you what I want, Thomas," she says giving him a cheeky wink before walking out of the pub, with a Thomas Shelby following behind her, the tiniest smile present on his face

Tags: @asfaraslifegets @magical-mischief-makers

[ivorytowerblr]

NaNoWriMo 2017: May 1st

There we go, that’s more like it. Special thanks to @starcunning for looking this over before I started and generally being a cool catte. B)

Word Count: 2162 Weekly Word Count: 2162 (of 10000) Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost);

She had followed him to the city and then been forced to stay on the outskirts, though the city itself refused to be neatly contained in the mountains. As factories went up, residential buildings were torn down or relocated elsewhere, forcing many of the poorest people onto the fringes while the rich built up their homes.

She despised it. She sneered at these rich men, these killers. She disdained them their art and their music, ripped from the hard work of the poorest people and put on display for people to sneer at. She could hear their words, their apathy towards their fellow humans.

Polite society was anything but polite.

I’m here for Leon, not for them, she thought. I’m here to wait to see what he finds, and do my own searching, for all that I’ve found or not-found, as the case may be.

The scent she had done her best to follow since the attack had since dissipated, and her companions couldn’t pick up the scent no matter how hard they tried. It was frustrating -- infuriating -- to be so helpless at a time like this.

I can’t help Leon do his research. I can’t find this monster on my own. I can’t…

It hurt to think there was nothing else she could do other than wait. It hurt to see people whose lives she couldn’t touch and who would barely understand her if they met her. Misery rose up in her throat until she made the tiniest noise of overwhelming despair, unable to contain it. Immediaetly, her companions voiced their own concerns and she buried her fingers in their coats.

“It’s… it’s alright,” she whispered, barely. “I’m not angry.”

“Would it be such a bad thing if you were?” asked a voice, and she turned. She had not heard the man -- an old one, by her reckoning -- and that was unusual. Normally, she knew when people were near her. They were loud, creating disturbance in their wake. Only Leon was properly quiet, and being near him had come with other problems, though perhaps ones that wold be solved in the future.

If we live long enough to see it. The man before her was dressed in a long brown coat, neatly turned up against the cold of the mountain. He had a strong, proud nose and pale brown skin, and his hair was long and curling, and drawn back in a tail. “Who are you?”

“A friend, of a kind,” the man said, and offered his hand. “Why not sit with me for a time?”

She stared at the proferred hand for a moment, and took it. Like with Leon, there was a profound sense of peace as he touched her, a quietness as the world fell away, and she sighed with relief. There was sympathy on the man’s face, understanding as he guided her to a nearby tent.

In her own experience, such places tended to be sparsely occupied, meant for temporary residence but this man’s tent was thickly carpeted with rugs that smelled of spices and horses, though not so much as to be overwhelming in either case, which was a relief. There were chests lining one side of the tent, and a comfortable looking bedroll on the far side, while in the centre of the tent was a table and a pair of squat stools.

“Please, sit. Be welcome in my home.” The man gestured to one of the stools, and she sat, awkward. The man took a seat across from her and smiled. “What is your name, child?”

“I am--” she began. “Olwynne is the name men use to call for me. Olwynne Roma.”

“You don’t seem to think of it as your name, though,” the man said. “What do you call yourself?”

“Wolf-Sister,” she said. “That’s who raised me after I… was left behind.”

“Canis Sororita,” the man murmured. “I’ll have to make a note of it. I am Hershel Malcador, and either name will do to call me. Is it quiet in here?”

“Yes,” Canis whispered. “I don’t see how it can be. Only Leon is so quiet.”

“Only… hm, interesting. Another note I will make,” Malcador said, smiling. “I am a psychic. Do you know what that means?”

“...that you’re a witch?”

“Ah, what an old accusation for one such as I,” Malcador said. “I suppose that’s close enough. I am quiet because I can quiet my thoughts, and your senses, just by being nearby. Psychic power is rare amongst humans, but our numbers grow. There are a very great many humans across this vast empire and many have the potential to become psychics. More every year.”

“Do you think Leon could be psychic?” Canis asked. “Is that why he feels so quiet?”

“I think it’s possible, certainly,” Malcador said. “I think that it is likely that he has learned, consciously or otherwise, to make himself very quiet and you reach out for that.”

“The man who adopted him found him abandoned in the forests distant from here,” Canis said. “When I first met him, I knew that we were the same. We had both been forsaken by humanity and were better off with the animals, but… he grew to be civilized. I never have. Not really.”

“A sad tale, to hear of children so unloved.” Malcador drew a packet from his sleeve and set it down on the table. He opened it and Canis saw that it was a deck of long cards. “It isn’t something we have grown out of, is it?”

“Grown out of..?”

“There are many good parents,” Malcador said, his tone lecturing, and she found herself drawn in. “Kind fathers, gentle mothers. There also any number of bad parents. Cruel fathers, brutal mothers. Some would as soon as die as see their children harmed, while others would happily throw their children on the pyres. There are many who are neither good nor bad, either, just… overwhelmed. Confused, perhaps. A sad day when such a thing happens, very sad.”

“Why?” Canis asked. “Why did I have the bad ones and not the good ones? Why did they..?”

“Without knowing them, I cannot say,” Malcador said. “There are many reasons. Some become parents without meaning to. Others should never have become them. Still others might find something strange about their child and be repulsed by it.”

“Did they know I wasn’t human, then? Is that why--”

“No,” Malcador said sharply. After a moment, he calmed. “No, it was not your fault. It is never a child’s fault for existing. You have ones who love you now, do you not?”

“Yes, and…” Canis looks away. “He wanted to marry me, to tame me. I said no, I couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to run free.”

“Is that something he would have asked of you, truly?” Malcador asked gently. “The one you love most?”

“If he asked it of me, I would have said yes,” Canis admitted. “Because he asked me to.”

“Oh, I see… I see…” Macador said, and reached out, touching her hand lightly. “You aren’t afraid of him as much as you are yourself.”

Canis looked at him sharply. “You know much, witch. How confident you are.”

Malcador chuckled. “You aren’t someone who likes to hear hard things, are you? That must be difficult with how sharp your hearing is. Never mind. Do you know what these are?”

“Cards?” Canis said, surprised by the change of topic. “I never had the patience for them.”

“You’re right, they are cards,” Malcador said. “Once, they were meant for playing games, and then people had the notion of reading fortunes in them. One type of playing cards between many, as countless as the people who liked to read them. Mine are old, but I’ve done my best to preserve them. I’m quite fond of them, personally.”

“You believe in fortune?”

“I believe in clarity of purpose,” Malcador said, his tone lecturing again. “While some have claimed to read the future, I have always believed that done properly, reading the tarot is about evaluating one’s own mind. Some claim that you should never read your own tarot, while others will not do it for any other than themselves.”

“What’s the point of reading your own tarot?” Canis asked. “Don’t you know all of the answers?”

“Do you know the answers to your present quadry, Wolf-Sister?” Malcador asked, and Canis turned her head away. “Of course you don’t. Clarity of purpose is remarkably hard to find. The road from the past to the present is a bumpy one, and the path one takes towards the future even more so. Tarot reading is not so much about predicting the future as it examining the past and the present so you can make decisions about your future.”

“So… I should read these cards?” Canis asked. “Then what?”

“You don’t know how, and some of the interpretations can be… finicky,” Malcador said. “We’ll go over them together. I will have you do the first one, it will be your card. Your symbol as you move through your life.”

Canis nodded, and put her hand over the card. If you’re me, then I should know the right thing to pick, so…

Canis flipped the card over and Malcador examined it, smiling to himself. “Ah, I see. A good card. Judgement.”

“So, what does it mean?”

“Why don’t you tell me what it means?” Malcador said, folding his fingers together. “What does it mean for you?”

“It means…” Canis frowned thoughtfully. “It means making a decision. It means… passing judgement, coming to a verdict. Not the law, but the person making the final decision. I suppose… not based on the law, in the end, not always.”

“Do you do that kind of thing?” Malcador asked. “Pass judgement on those based on law, or a lack of it?”

“Sometimes,” Canis admitted. “I don’t care much for human civilization. I tell… I always say it’s because I despise it, and it’s true, I do. I hate the way it makes me feel as though I’m not good enough, unwanted. An animal living on the fringes. A scavenger.”

“Ah, I see,” Malcador said. “You seek to judge others because you are ultimately judging yourself, is that correct?”

“I… suppose so,” Canis said. “I fear others judge me too and find me wanting.”

“Each card has a meaning facing the diviner and the reverse,” Malcador said. “In truth, since when two people are performing a reading it will always be reversed to someone, it has both meanings. We are both a postive and negative person, the sum of our strengths and failings. No one is perfect.”

“Not even God?” Canis asked. “I thought--”

“Especially not God,” Malcador said. “My people, long ago, were said to have ‘wrestled with God’. Querelous, we were. I myself went on a long journey to learn the truths, to argue with fellow scholars, to collect… stories of faith. I won’t bore you with the details, but I have learned that, whether or not there is a God, we human beings must wrestle with ourselves as well as the divine.”

“I think I understand,” Canis said. “I’m not certain as to what I should do with this, but I will… wrestle with it as long as I have to.”

“Good,” Malcador said. “Now, there is something I require of you. It is… well, a bother, but I’m supposed to be practicing. I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

“What do you need?” Canis asked. “Something from me?”

“Yes,” Malcador said. “I require blood. A friend of mine is doing an experiment and he’s looking for samples from some special people. It’s going to be a long task, I have told him we should split up, but… well, he insists.”

“...how much blood?” Canis asked. “What are you going to do with it?”

“A vial or two, no more,” Malcador said. “It will be analyzed, he says he can divine much from the sequence of DNA within humans. I don’t quite understand, my strengths run to history and anthropology, but I will indulge him if you’ll indulge me.”

“I… will,” Canis said. “So long as it isn’t too much.”

“Nothing you cannot afford to give, I promise you,” Malcador reassured her. Reaching into his other sleeve he drew out a wooden box and within was a needle and a vial. Canis started at it wordlessly. “If you like, I can guide you through the rest of the reading once we’re done. Your cooperation will more than cover the rest of the reading, and then you can join me for dinner.”

“Leon will be looking for me,” Canis said, and held out her arm. Malcador chuckled politely.

“Leon will be busy for some time yet, I think,” Malcador said. “But you are welcome in my home as long as you need to be here.”

That sounds… ominous, Canis thought, but nodded. “I will stay.”

~ * ~

[kenzieam]

Trick or Treat - An Eric & Fox Halloween Oneshot

Rating: M (SMUT, SMUT, BEAUTIFUL SMUT)

Thanks everyone for the re-blogs and support!!! IT IS SO AWESOME!!!

@emmysrandomthoughts @beautifulramblingbrains @iammarylastar @tigpooh67 @bookwarm85  @badassbaker @captstefanbrandt  @treeleaf  @beltz2016  @girlwith100names @gaia25 @readsalot73 @slayer0507 @stone-met @lostinthebeans @lauraaan182 @girlslovestorys  @lacy-love @fuckthatfeeling  @sparklemichele @vitaevandal  @micolegg @frecklefaceb @jaihardy  @bookgirlthings @queenara4  @bluelassbird @mom2reesie @pathybo @letmagichappen @shaunarcanine @equalstrashflavoredtrash @itschibi @elaacreditava @lilu46 @tonyt1995 @jojogoo65 @littlesouthernrebel @sterek-foreverandever @kirstenisntkirsty

****************************************************************************************************

THIS STORY IS A PRETTY COMMON HALLOWEEN THEME, BUT HERE IS MY TAKE ON FOX AND ERIC, ENJOY…. I DID

“This is going to be great!” Ally enthused, sitting back. “Okay, blink.”

I blinked, feeling the fake eyelashes settle awkwardly on my lids. “They feel weird.”

“They’re supposed to,” Ally reached for her lip gloss then turned back to me. “Don’t touch them!”

I dropped my hand like a guilty child, sufficiently chagrined and curled my fingers against my thighs. I jumped slightly when I felt bare skin and looked down. I always wore jeans, training pants, sweats or the occasional capris; I never wore skirts and certainly not skirts this short. Seeing me finger my hemline Ally snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Are you sure you’re even Dauntless?”

“Graduated higher than you.” I muttered, sneaking a grin at my best friend. This was a running joke for us, although we’d both scored high in our initiation class, you’d have a hard time believing it, of me at least. I never wore the skimpy outfits Dauntless women were known for, and I had no visible tattoos or piercings beyond my bottom lip, even my hair was it’s natural shade; but that isn’t saying much, it’s goddamn fox-pelt red, hence my Dauntless name, Fox. Shit, I was a square, man, no wonder I didn’t have a boyfriend.

Tonight was Dauntless’ annual Halloween party, and if there was ever a faction tailor-made for a holiday, and vice versa, it was Dauntless and All Hallow’s Eve. The whole Pit was decorated in black and cobwebs, skeletons and fake ghosts, and the speakers spewed a constant mix of hellish grunge metal and angry alternative rock, bands like Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie and Alice Cooper, interspersed with an occasional, completely incongruous word vomit of some song called ‘The Monster Mash’. Ally, my best friend and fellow transfer (Erudite for her, Abnegation for me), had managed to convince me to dress up tonight and attend the annual party, whereas last year I’d been able to beg off, feigning a convincing chest cold, and the year before that we’d been initiates, and banned from the legendary festivities.

She’d even managed to pour me into a tiny embarrassment of a dress, more torn lace and black satin than anything else, with a corset body that pushed my not-inconsiderable chest directly up under my chin, and also lacked anything resembling a skirt, merely a few anaemic swatches of satin and lace tangled together that barely covered the ass I had, well, worked my ass off for doing squats. The black silk boyshorts I wore underneath covered more than the damn skirt did but Ally had begged and pleaded for me to dress her counterpoint, the dark twin to her slutty angel, so here we were, the Yin and Yang of barely covered naughty bits. I even wore a long black straight wig, I didn’t recognize myself at all.

Ally’s dress was no better, and, other than the colour, was not virginal or angelic in anyway, but, as Ally had reminded me at least a half-dozen times in the last hour, Halloween was the night it was okay to dress up as a slut, that’s what every girl was, even if she had mouse ears on her head, she was probably wearing lingerie and was a ‘slutty mouse’. I didn’t understand the appeal, but Ally had been talking about nothing else since mid-September and I was, despite myself, getting excited about the upcoming night.

“Don’t worry about anything, just find a guy with a costume you like and start making out with him.” Ally continued, putting the finishing touches on my blood-red lips.

“No frickin’ way,” I replied, watching as she grabbed a different tube of lip gloss, this a pearlescent white and started coating her own mouth. “I not making out with anyone.”

“It doesn’t count if you’re wearing a costume,” Ally replied, smoothing down her dyed-platinum blonde hair, ironed straight as a board and hanging almost to her ass.

“It also doesn’t count if you don’t do it,” I replied stubbornly. I’d never really connected with the opposite sex here at Dauntless, they were all loud and muscular, sweaty and aggressive, yelling non-stop at each other in the mess hall, throwing food and challenging each other to fights in the Pit. I’d taken care of enough children when I was a Stiff, I didn’t feel like doing it now. Fortunately, my job as a tattoo artist was fairly obligation-free. I was waitlisted for a leadership spot, probably in the Ambassador or Family Resources division, but so far nothing had come up. I was content for now, however, tattooing and my apprenticeship for body-piercing was almost complete. My interactions with man-children was fortunately limited, once their ink was done I could kick them out of my chair.

“He might be there.” Ally sing-songed, fitting her gauzy angel wings to her back.

“Who?” I replied mulishly. We both knew goddamn well who he was, but damned if I was going to say his name.

“Eric,” Ally sang, winking at me. I snorted and looked away. Ally walked up behind me in the mirror and grinned over my shoulder. “Yeah, and I hear he’s single now. Him and Zoë broke up.”

“So?”

“Sssooo, now’s your chance.”

I made a fart noise with my lips. “Bullshit.” The brick wall otherwise known as Eric Coulter had his choice of women here at Dauntless, most of which were willing to ride that walking cock with no strings attached, he’d never looked my way before, why would he now? With the exception of his nerve-wracking lurking around our initiation training two years ago, I never even saw the guy around. I was pretty sure I was at the bottom of his list of desired conquests.

“Okay,” Ally grinned, “whatever you say Foxy…. Ready to go?”

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready as I’m ever going to be.”

We held hands as we reached the edge of the Pit; the music was even louder down here, vibrating through the floor and I scanned the writhing crowd. Everyone was in costumes of varying complexity and detail and, just like I’d guessed, most of the girls were wearing more skin than clothes, although few seemed to have gone with a good/bad twin theme like Ally and I had. I rapidly grew uncomfortable as someone recognized me and began elbowing their neighbours, stunned by what I was wearing. A few of my tattoos were finally visible and I saw a lot of eyes widening as they started to realize I wasn’t quite the prude everyone thought.

Ally squeezed my hand and grinned at me, pulling me towards the bar and I felt a hand drop onto my shoulder. I turned my head to see Uriah Pedrad, one of the few people I considered a friend, who insisted on only me for his tattoos, staring at me in drunken shock. He leaned in close, brow furrowed before he finally realized who I was; it was probably the small chevron scar on the corner of my lip, courtesy of my snake bite piercing getting ripped out one night, that gave me away.

“Holy shit, Foxy Loxy,” he slurred, grinning widely, his cowboy hat askew and button-down shirt undone enough to show off his ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’ t-shirt underneath. “You look diff’rent, but shit, you look GOOD!”

“Thanks Uri,” I mumbled, red-faced. His large hand suddenly slapped my back. “An’ I love yur wings!”

Tattooed across my back were a large pair of black raven’s wings and written vertically down my spine was ‘Fallen Angel’. Nobody besides Ally and my occasional boyfriends had ever seen these, even when I wore my usual muscle shirts all anyone could see was a non-descript black curve on the backs of my shoulders.

“Holy sheeet, yur a babe!” Uriah babbled.

Ally rolled her eyes and handed me a plastic cup. “Drink,” she ordered me. “It’s a double, you’re going to need it.”

Fortunately, Uriah had a short attention span and soon found himself getting his ass kicked in a modified game of beer pong. I watched him for awhile, couldn’t help but smile at the big doofus. Ally was pulled out right away for a dance by a guy dressed as a mummy and I smiled at them. She’d never had any problems making friends or interacting with guys. She was always the life of the party and sometimes I wondered just how in the hell we’d ended up as friends. All of my relationships had been quiet and sweet, fizzing out more from lack of interest than anything else. Although by no means a virgin, I still didn’t really understand what all the fuss was about, sex wasn’t that great; a lot of squirming and squealing. Ally said I just hadn’t found a good one yet, a man that would set me on fire, would I ever find that?.

Maybe tonight? I ordered myself to relax, to stop standing here like fucking installation art and at least act like I knew how to have a good time. Ally had pushed protection at me, and I was up to date with my birth control, so I couldn’t use that as an excuse for not finding a guy, not tonight. Dauntless was pretty laidback about casual sex, and I’d yet to have tried out that faction perk. I decided tonight was the night, I was going to see what all the fuss was about, I was going to have fun.

Although I’m a little embarrassed to say that my new get-up made for an endless stream of interested guys, and more than a few girls, sidling up to me, something didn’t feel right and I politely begged off each one. If I was only giving myself permission to go wild one night, I was going to make it count.

I had my head cocked to the side, trying to understand what the scarecrow in front of me was babbling about when hot breath tickled my ear.

“You look good enough to eat.”

I couldn’t stop a jump, that deep husky tone was like a caress up my spine, a hand between my legs. My heart started to beat harder and I felt suddenly warmer. I turned and looked up at the owner of that sinful voice.

He was tall and muscular, which was pretty much every guy in Dauntless, but this one stood tall, confident in himself. He was all in black, black jeans, long-sleeved button-down black shirt. A large and realistic wolf-head covered his features. It looked like it was made of real fur, and covered his whole head and neck, all the down to his collarbones. The only part I could see was a slice of square jaw through the mouth hole and the glint of eyes deep in the mask.

I had no fucking idea who this guy was, but my body didn’t care. Sensations like I’d never felt had begun to race through me, and I’m pretty sure I looked like the textbook definition of ‘body language - desire’. Was it the alcohol I’d been drinking? I was tipsy sure, but not drunk. I doubted it was my vow to have a good time either, if that had been the case, any of the guys before this one would have worked, but no, my body had decided. This was the guy. I was suddenly nervous. I doubted very strongly I was being at all subtle, I was all but panting right now, but FUCK… whoever this guy was, he was making my body hum like a tuning fork.

I couldn’t really tell because his face was covered, but I got the idea he was feeling something similar. His eyes glittered through the mask and he’d edged closer to me. Every few seconds his hands would twitch, like he was fighting not to reach over and touch me. His cologne was intoxicating, but underneath that, there was more, a natural scent to him that called to my blood, and I was shocked and mortified when sudden X-rated thoughts flooded my mind, thoughts and ideas of what kinds of fun we could have between the sheets. I’m pretty sure I’d found the guy Ally had told me about, the one that would set me on fire.

I shook my head slightly, realizing I’d taken an embarrassing amount of time to answer him, had been standing here drooling, looking like a cat in heat.

“Y-yeah?” I managed to stutter back.

He chuckled, a panty-dropping sound that did nothing to stop the moisture flooding my silk panties. Fuck, who was this?? To both my horror and intense relief he moved even closer and leaned down to murmur, in that same heated purr, “can I take a bite?”

My mouth opened and closed as I tried to form some type of answer. My body was screaming ‘hell yes!’, even if my mind hadn’t caught up yet. Fuck it, I decided. Tonight I’m going to have fun.

“You can have a taste,” I purred back, giving in to the desire flooding my body. It was a heady sensation, intoxicating and a confidence I didn’t know I had poured into my limbs.

He seemed a little startled by my answer, so I reached up and grabbed his furry cheek, pulled him down to my mouth and FUCK ME. His lips were soft and warm, and the jolt that shot through me as our lips touched was almost painful. He inhaled sharply too, then pressed his lips harder to mine, his tongue sweeping against me. I opened my mouth and the feel of his tongue sent shivers down my spine. His arms wrapped around me, crushing me to him as he started kissing me like he never wanted to stop, like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. I felt the same, clawing at him, trying to pull him even closer. His chest was hard against mine, and I felt my nipples harden, a tiny shiver shooting through him as he felt it too.

We devoured each other’s mouths and it felt fucking incredible. I’d never been kissed like this before, had a guy’s tongue exploring every inch of my mouth, or mine his, and I cursed myself for missing out on this all these years. Shit, if people were capable of kissing like this, who the hell had time to make trouble anywhere else? Finally, we had to pull apart to keep from passing out and I tipped my forehead against his furry face, panting. His hands tightened on me and I could feel him rock hard pressing against my bare thigh. My heart went into overdrive, fuck, I wanted this… we’d have to get out of here in a hurry to keep from giving our fellow party-goers a show. He seemed to have the same idea, his eyes gazing right into mine as he growled.

“We need to go somewhere more private,” his voice was guttural and I nodded. Every cell in my body was screaming for him right now, I’d never felt like this before. I nodded.

“Fuck, yeah baby,” he purred, melting against me, obviously as affected by me as I was of him. It was an incredible sensation and I didn’t want it to go away. His large hand slipped into mine and he pulled me away from the bar. I could feel tension in him, like he was fighting the urge to drag me out of there, was forcing himself to walk like a normal person. I didn’t know where he was taking me, but I didn’t care, I was so turned on right now I’d fuck him in a dark corner of the Pit.

He turns and pulls me ahead of him while we’re walking and the way he’s grabbing my hips make me realize he feels the same way too, that we’re not going to make it very far out of the Pit and away from the party before he gives in to the animal lust roaring through both of us; and I’m right.

We make it as far as the Chasm before he pushes me roughly against the railing and rubs his whole body against my back, purring low in his throat. I can barely hear him over the howl of the rushing water but that’s okay, we can be as loud as we want up here and no one will know. The thought is freeing, that and the feeling of him pressed up against me, his cock a hard ridge against my ass. I arch my back to rub against his straining dick and his arms tighten around me, a strangled sound in his throat.

“Fuck,” I hear him behind me, it sounds like his teeth are gritted, like he’s fighting hard to be at least partially gentle with me, but I don’t want that, I want hard, fast and rough. This surprises me, I normally don’t, but I want this and him so bad it hurts.

I drop my head back against his muscular shoulder, shiver as his hands roam over my breasts and moan against the soft fur of his mask.

“Fuck me goddammit. Hard and fast, make me scream.” I’ve never said such words before, never felt compelled to but Jesus, I’m throbbing for this dizzying stranger. He groans again, shuddering against me and yanks hard, my breasts pop free and fill his hands. I cry out as I almost come right there, tingles racing hot through me and his hips pump against my ass. His fingers find the barbells through my nipples and he gives a low sound of approval that I feel more than hear. His calloused fingers pinch me and I bit back a wail, grinding desperately back against him. One hand drops to cup between my legs and he nearly snarls with lust as he feels how soaked I am and there is no more teasing, neither one of us can wait anymore.

He pushes aside my panties and I feel him fumbling with his pants, then the head of his cock pressing against my folds. He slams inside me, filling me in one vicious, powerful thrust and I scream into the Chasm’s roar. His grip is bruising as he holds my hips, ramming into me and it feels so fucking incredible, it’s all I can do to hang onto the railing and keep us from plunging headfirst into the raging water. That’s part of the excitement, part of the appeal, certain death in front of me and definite ecstasy behind me and I feel the most amazing fucking sensations racing through me as he thrusts into me, slamming me from behind. His hand snakes forward and he finds my hood piercing and my blood heats all the more at his lust-filled groan.

My body is jerking violently, his powerful, almost out of control thrusts smashing me against the railing and I finally understand what all the fuss is about. With the right person sex is mind-blowing, amazing; and it vaguely occurs to me that I’ve been missing out on an amazing experience my whole time at Dauntless; one I’m not going to overlook again. I hope whoever this is with the monster cock driving inside me has a nice personality, because he’s not going anywhere now.

The incredible sensations racing through me finally coalesce into a single bolt of mind-blowing ecstasy and I give in with a scream, arching back against his straining chest as the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had rips through me. My vision greys and only him behind me, erratically thrusting, panting roughly, keeps me from collapsing. The wolf behind me finally howls as he comes hard and I feel him pulsing inside me, his seed warm. Another, almost instantaneous climax tears through me and I hear him moan behind me as my walls milk him, drawing out his orgasm, his hips pressed hard against my ass. Finally, we collapse forwards, panting, leaning over the railing, too overwhelmed with what we just shared to do anything more than just exist for awhile. His weight is crushing me, but it’s a good feeling, and despite the fact that I don’t know this man’s name, I don’t even know what he looks like, I feel safe with him, safe and…. holy shit, loved? No, desired, definitely. I want more, I want so much more with this stranger.

Finally, with a shudder he stands up, pulling free from me and I shiver at the sudden cold. His seed trickles down my thighs and I hurriedly tuck my breasts back into my dress. For a half-second I feel awkward and consider standing here, staring at the Chasm until he leaves but no, we just shared everything, saw each other at our most vulnerable, we’re past that now. I take a deep breath and turn. He’s standing close behind me, chest still heaving, waiting for me to say something. I smile and bite my bottom lip. His growl is hungry when he steps back towards me, hand snaking into my wig and tipping my head back for another kiss, it falls off and he throws it away without looking up. The mask gets in the way this time and he snarls in frustration, yanking it off. I don’t want to disturb the illusion, not yet, so I keep my eyes closed as his lips claim mine again instantly. My head swims and the same passion he awoke at the bar floods my body again. He crushes me to his body as I cling to his and we pull apart enough to rest our foreheads together, breathe heavily and share the same air for a long moment. Finally, on some unspoken signal, we open our eyes, see for the first time who we just gave our hearts to, who we just fucked ‘till they screamed.

My heart skips and I lean back against the railing for support. It can't be.... Eric??

His eyes are huge and he licks his lips before speaking. “Fox?”  

I‘m almost speechless, how does he even know my name? It’s not like we run in the same social circles, hell, I don’t have a circle. I’m stunned, even though our sex was rough, there was still an inherent gentleness I felt in him, something I didn’t expect from Eric Coulter. The mask had hidden his leadership bars, his long sleeves his forearm tattoos, and I didn’t know him well enough to pick him out by voice or scent…. until now. Eric had just given me the most powerful orgasm I’d ever had, and I think I’d returned the favour, but…. damn.

Finally, still riding this carefree edge I just found, I grin and ask, “Trick or Treat?”

Eric grins back, a wide, genuine smile that takes my breath away. I’ve never talked to him before, never seen anything but the scowling leader storming through the Pit, so this side of him is unexpected and gives me a warm feeling in my chest. We just gaze at each other for a long moment, but the awkwardness I expect doesn’t come. I’m not embarrassed in front of him, and he’s not with me.

The grin still on his face, Eric closes the distance between us, watching me with hooded eyes. Stopping so close we’re almost touching he reaches up and caresses my cheek. His touch is warm and gentle and a tiny voice inside me hums contentedly. He leans forward and just before his lips touch mine he whispers.

“Treat.”

[unsettlingshortstories]

Night at the Mazar

Alexander Shalimov (1959)

Do you want to know why at thirty-five I am gray-haired? Okay, I'll tell you. I turned gray in one night spent near an ancient mazar in a desolate mountain valley. It happened like this.

Before the war itself, I had to make a geological survey in the Kafandar river basin in eastern Karategin. Have you ever been there? It is the wildest and least-explored region of Tajikistan. The kingdom of desolate mountains is the kingdom of bare gloomy ridges and deserted valleys. There, in great silence, lie the bluish tongues of glaciers on great heights. Kilometer-high cliffs rise above endless gray trails of talus and moraines. Black rocks are edged with strips of snow. Only undersized juniper is molded here and there along limestone cornices and stretches knotty twisted trunks out of crevasses. People have not yet settled in the desert valleys. In the summer, the shepherds drive their herds there, occasionally hunters wander in, but neither the shepherds nor the hunters climb to the upper reaches of the mountain rivers - to the glaciers. People are frightened by the dead silence of the peaks. Strange legends about the desert mountains are told in an undertone by old people in villages on long winter evenings.

The upper reaches of the Kafandar are famous for their inaccessibility. A deep canyon in the middle reaches of the river, as if cut by a sharp knife in a two-kilometer-thick layer of gray limestone, is completely impassable. They say that it has 100-meter waterfalls, but no one has seen them. The canyon can only be climbed a few hundred meters from the mouth; further on, a mad river fills the entire corridor of the canyon. I tried to penetrate it in the autumn at low water. Clinging with our hands and feet to the ledges of rocks, plunging in places up to our chests into icy water, risking a thousand times to break loose and be carried away by a swift stream, one of the workers and I were able to go deeper into the canyon for only three hundred meters. Through the deafening sound of the water around the bend, at times there was a heavy rumble, like the hum of an earthquake. Perhaps it was one of the legendary Kafandar waterfalls thundering. We could not get to it.

It is possible to penetrate into the upper reaches of the Kafandar only by a roundabout way, going up one of the tributaries and crossing the ridge. I heard from someone that an old abandoned path leads there.

In order not to drag the whole caravan along a difficult and little-known road, I decided to leave it in the middle reaches of the river near the camp of the shepherds. Our party's camp had been there for a week. This corner of the Kafandar valley seemed like a kind of oasis among the bleak monotony of the surrounding ridges.

A motley carpet of alpine meadows covered the undulating slopes. Near our tents, the greenish-blue waters of the Kafandar quickly flowed along the wide bottom of the valley, breaking into dozens of small channels. Lawns were green between the channels. Three kilometers upstream, a giant crack blackened the mouth of the canyon.

On the high-mountain pastures that surrounded the camp, flocks of sheep and goats grazed, driven for the summer from the sun-scorched plains of Western Tajikistan. Experienced shepherds with huge ferocious dogs guarded the herds.

When the sun hid behind the marble ridge of the Khozer-Mech ridge, fires flickered welcomingly in the deepening gloom. A light breeze carried the smell of smoke and grilled meat towards them. We spent many good evenings at this camp, resting by a cheerful fire after long and difficult routes.

The resinous juniper burned, crackling; the smoke, bitter, smelling of pine needles, rose in thick white clouds towards the black sky. Flashes of flame lit up faces scorched by the sun and high-mountain winds. Lying on the rugs around the fire, we drank kok-tea, talked, argued, and sometimes sang or recited poetry. It was very good and somehow as cozy as home. The hours spent by the fire rewarded the heat and thirst of the day, the tiredness that knocked down the legs after climbing the scree and rocks. During these hours they forgot about the forced bathing in an icy mountain stream, about a horse stumbling on a dangerous path, about an avalanche that almost carried them away into the abyss, and about many, many troubles that are so rich in the vagrant life of a geologist. They went to the tents when the fire began to go out. It happened that at the "evening table" someone fell asleep without finishing.

Sometimes our neighbors - shepherds - visited the camp. Fat pilaf was prepared for the guests, and then kok-tea in a large enamel bucket, strong as an infusion of makhorka, and dark as ink. The shepherds almost did not speak Russian, and none of us properly understood the dialect of the Karategin Tajiks. The conversation with the guests usually boiled down to exclamations, blows on the shoulder and expressive gestures, accompanied by incessant laughter.

I still managed to ask one of the shepherds, who knew a little Russian, the details of the way to the upper reaches of the Kafandar. I wanted to take an expedition worker there with me and invite one of the shepherds as a guide. However, the shepherds did not agree to accompany me to the upper reaches. At first I did not understand the reason for the refusal; I thought that they were afraid to leave the herd, fearing an attack by leopards.

It soon turned out that the expeditionary workers, who had worked with me for several years, were trying in every possible way to evade this campaign. The senior working Tatar Ivan, whom I initially chose as my companion, unexpectedly fell ill with rheumatism, which never happened to him. Deciding that Ivan was simply tired over the past few days - he had a lot of things to do - I announced that Peter was coming with me. A hefty, cheerful, merry fellow, Peter became depressed after this conversation. The next morning he complained of malaria.

I began to suspect something was wrong. It was clear that it was not the difficulties of the road that forced the workers to avoid the march. But then what? After thinking it over, I decided to ask for clarification from the chef Shody, an elderly Tajik who for the fourth season has invariably been in charge of the kitchen in my parties. He had a wife, children, a house in Dushanbe, but his innate passion for vagrancy forced him every summer to change a cozy hut with a cool pond and a shady vineyard for a tent and a fire from a geological camp. Shody knew Central Asia from the Pamirs to the sands of Betpak-Dala and from the Khan-Tengri glaciers to the Caspian. In an oriental way, cunning, calm and perceptive, he knew how to negotiate with everyone and was an indispensable intermediary in various transactions with the inhabitants of mountain villages and oases.

In order to speak with Shody in private, I returned from the route earlier than usual the day before departure.

Shody was squatting beside the board that served as the kitchen table, chopping mutton. Opposite Shody, an old shepherd in a huge blue turban and a cotton robe dazzling with many colorful patches sat on a koshma, with his legs crossed in an oriental way. The old man's eyes were closed. He shook his head softly.

Hearing my steps, Shody looked around.

“And, boss, finished work? Let's have some tea as soon as possible. There is a very good cake,” he spoke quickly, continuing his work.

The old shepherd opened his only eye - he had a thorn in the other - and, touching his reddish-gray beard with his palms, said drawlingly, “Salam alaykum, chief!”

“Aleikum salam, ata,” I answered, pulling a heavy backpack from my shoulders and unfastening a field bag and a revolver.

“Okay, chief?” the guest said, half questioningly, making a broad gesture with a wrinkled brown hand and looking at me with his only eye penetratingly.

“Very good, very good, yakshi,” I answered in tune with him, taking out figurative minerals from my backpack.

“Good?” The old man asked again, pointing to the stones brought and carefully touching one of them with a crooked finger.

“Very good, ata.”

Having thus exhausted all the topics available to us, we fell silent.

Shody brought tea and cakes. While drinking tea, I began a conversation that interests me.

“Shody,” I said, “please prepare food for three days for two people. Tomorrow we'll go up, over there.” And I pointed to the ridge of the Khozer-Mech ridge.

“Kafandar?” asked Shody, not looking at me, and I noticed that the old shepherd at this word roused himself and opened his eyes.

“Yes, Kafandar. Pour me some more tea. Don't forget to cook the barley along with the groceries. We'll take the horse.”

“It's a very difficult journey, chief,” Shody remarked indifferently, serving tea.

“It’s nothing, Shody! You and I will pass. We are used to climbing such places. Do you remember Rushan?”

Shody glanced at me quickly, and I thought I read fear in his eyes.

“What kind of person will go with you to Kafandar?” he asked.

“You.”

Shody was intently stirring for some time in a cauldron where mutton fat was boiling, then he started talking about something with the shepherd. At the word "Kafandar" the old shepherd clicked his tongue sympathetically and, shaking his head, looked at me.

I watched them in silence.

“A very bad place,” Shoda said at last with a sigh, without addressing anyone.

“Where is the bad place?” I asked.

“Kafandar.”

“Why, Shody?”

“I don’t know… If a person goes missing, the person is gone. Very bad place.

“What is there - wolves, leopards, bandits?”

“I don’t know,” and he added in a whisper: “Such a bad place, you cannot speak at all.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “This is all nonsense, Shody. It is sure that the women in the villages invented it.”

Shody looked at me very seriously. “This is what the old people say,” he answered, emphasizing the word “old people,” and turned away.

“What do they say? I do not know anything. Please explain.” Shody was silent. “Why do not you answer? Since I'm going to go there, I need to know. If there is really something dangerous there, we will ask the border guards for help. Well, speak, speak!”

Shody continued to be silent. I felt he hesitated.

The old man followed us with interest. I was already preparing to repeat my question for the third time, when suddenly Shody spoke up. He spoke with pretended indifference, without turning around and continuing to stir in the cauldron, but there was an unusual excitement in his voice.

“There is a very small person. A very bad person. The ‘Snow Devil’ he is called. He lives deep in the earth. Runs at night, looking for food. He found Kiik - he dragged him down; he found the leopard - he dragged him down; Russian, Tajik, Uzbek - he dragged everyone. Dragged into the ground. Then he ate. At night the little man screamed loudly, screamed very terribly. I heard one time. That's how he shouted.” And Shody, folding his lips in a special way, quietly made a dull, howling sound - either a groan or a growl.

A loud scream silenced him. The old shepherd, jumping up from the mat, yelled furiously, splashing saliva and goggling fiercely with his one eye. The guest's robe began to crackle suspiciously from sudden movements. In the old man's shrill cries, the word "Kafandar" was most often repeated interspersed with Russian and Tajik curses. Shody, squatting by the fire, looked attentively at the raging shepherd and did not make the slightest attempt to stop him. The old man continued to curse. Suddenly Shody also jumped up and began to shout and gesticulate, rolling his eyes angrily.

I could no longer make out individual words. Without ceasing for a second to shout and not listening to each other, they alternately pointed at me, at the horses grazing nearby, to the sky; the old man beat his chest and stepped on Shody. I tried to stop them, but it had no effect. Then I decided to wait until they got tired and shut up.

The old shepherd was the first to run out. He fell silent and, wiping the sweat streaming down his face with the sleeve of his robe, looked angrily at our cook for several seconds, then opened his mouth again, but coughed convulsively and, muttering curses in the intervals between coughing fits, hobbled away from the camp, leaning on his huge gnarled staff. Shody started to follow him, continuing to shout and wave his arms, but then he spat and returned to the fire.

“What's the matter with him, Shody?” I asked, seeing that the cook had already regained his usual calmness.

“Quite a stupid man,” Shody replied. “Old, but completely stupid. Doesn't know what he says at all.”

“Why is he angry?”

Shody turned and looked at me closely. “The old people in the mountains have the law. You can't talk to a stranger about the Snow Devil. A stranger will go to look for the Snow Devil. It will be very bad. The Devil will be very offended. He will eat a stranger, then he will go, he will eat a ram, he will eat a goat, he will eat everyone - because he talked about him.”

“So, you broke the law by telling me about it?”

“I thought the old man did not understand...”

“It's all nonsense, Shody,” I said emphatically. “This is an invention. After all, probably, no one has ever seen this ‘Snow Devil.’”

“The one person that saw, he completely disappeared, he never came home,” Shody replied reasonably.

“All the more nonsense,” I repeated.

“I don’t know. The old man says there is a Snow Devil. I did not see. Once I heard the Snow Devil shout, I heard how the horse was being dragged to the ground. The Pamir Mountains, Bel-Dara... Do you remember?”

I looked at Shoda in amazement. He fell silent, pleased with the impression his words made.

Bel-Dara! It was several years ago. Yes, I remembered her well. While working there, I didn’t have time to return to camp before dark and spent the night in a cave in the mountains. On that memorable night, the camp was on the Bel-Daran glacier. At night I was awakened by shots coming from the direction of the camp. I decided that the bandits had attacked my comrades, and although it was hardly dawn, with great precautions, I went down to the camp very alarmed.

The collector girl, Shody, and another worker, terribly frightened, greeted me as if I were an alien from another world. Shody didn't want to believe that I had returned alive. They were shooting to drive away from the camp a flock of some animals that had disappeared at dawn. What kind of animals they were, they did not consider in the dark. Unfortunately, my comrades got off with more than one fright. Of the five horses in the camp, two disappeared without a trace, and two were bitten by nocturnal predators. The surviving horses were so scared that they were caught only in the evening.

“It is necessary to carefully collect the evidence,” concluded Klunnikov. “This is a damn interesting problem. Snow Devils may turn out to be another step in the process of human formation. At Bel-Dara, you, my friend, missed a great opportunity.”

And now here, on the Kafandar, I again come across this mystery of the Central Asian ridges. Maybe a unique case is given to my hands? No, all this, of course, is nonsense, naïve inventions...

“What are you thinking, chief?” I heard Shody's voice.

I didn't want to admit that I was thinking about Bel-Dara, and said that I was deciding how best to color the geological map.

“Do you see this white spot on the map, Shody?” I continued. “This is the headwaters of the Kafandar. Tomorrow we will go there, see what is there, and record our observations.”

“All the same, chief, are you not afraid of the little devil?” Shody said.

“No, I am not afraid. I'm not afraid of the little devils, or the big ones. In the mountains, one should be afraid not of devils, but of bad people. Do you know what the Turks say? ‘A familiar devil is better than a stranger.’ I am sure, Shody, you are not afraid of devils either.”

Shody did not answer, apparently not wanting to bend his soul.

A guess hit me. “So, Ivan and Peter know about these tales and therefore are afraid to go to the upper reaches?”

“Ivan knows,” Shody muttered gloomily.

“Listen, Shody, do you think these devils bit horses on Bel-Dara?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you say anything then?”

“I was afraid…”

“Of whom?”

“Little devils.”

“Good. Well, when we left Bel-Dara, why didn't you say?”

Shody thought and answered seriously, “There is such a law - not to speak to a stranger about the Snow Devil. It will be very bad. You can't speak.”

“But now you told me about it!”

Shody looked at me slyly. “I've known you for a long time, chief. You are now your own man in the mountains. You can't tell another person. Everything will be fine. Do you believe me? You won't go to Kafandar. Everyone is afraid. No other person will go. Ivan will not go, Peter will not go. Everything will be fine!”

“Understand, Shody, I must go to Kafandar. I think that you too will come with me. You are the smartest and most experienced worker. We will not disrupt work with you because of silly fairy tales.”

“Eh, chief,” Shody said with annoyance, “I have six sheep. What if I go missing?”

“You will not go missing! Let's go to Kafandar, come back, and even laugh at Peter and Ivan, that they were scared.”

“Listen, boss, am I a good worker?”

“Good; why, you were very good,” I answered, somewhat surprised by this turn of the conversation.

“What did I do badly?”

“You didn't do anything bad.”

“I've always done well,” Shody said firmly. “I did it very well. I will not go to Kafandar.”

“You’re talking badly, Shody. It is imperative to go to Kafandar: look for good stones, draw up a map, see what is there...”

“There's nothing there, Chief. Kafandar is very bad. You worked hard, very hard. Look.” Shody pointed to the painted part of the map. “Kafandar is very small, here.” And he touched an unpainted spot in the upper reaches of the river with his finger. “And here - nothing. Another man will finish another year.”

I felt that the usual restraint was beginning to cheat on me. “Listen, Shody,” I said as calmly as possible, “I’ll go to Kafandar, I’ll even go alone, if you’re all so afraid.”

“I'm not afraid of anything,” Shody said dryly. “But I'm afraid of one Snow Devil. No need to go, boss, please don't. The horse will disappear like at Bel-Dara. And you will be completely lost.”

I waved my hand.

“The shepherd will be very offended. If the goat and the ram won't sell...”

I was silent.

“Listen, boss, how many children do you have?”

“Twelve,” I replied angrily.

Shody was apparently surprised that I had so many children, but nevertheless said seriously, “Your family, your wife will be very sad. You will disappear on Kafandar...”

Having exhausted all the arguments on this, Shody began to "set the table" - to place bowls on a large tarp, lay out spoons and bread.

The comrades returned from the route tired but happy. The skarn zone, found yesterday on the slope of the Khozer-Mech ridge, it turns out, stretched to the north and went to the pass leading to the upper reaches of the Kafandar. Now the trip to the upper reaches of the valley became especially important.

In the ore samples brought from the skarn zone, a mineral resembling scheelite gleamed oily. Maybe we were on the verge of discovering a tungsten deposit?

Shody had to repeat the invitation to the table several times. At lunch it became clear that now, when there was hope to find tungsten in the upper reaches of Kafandar, everyone, even Peter, wanted to go there. However, I decided not to change the original plan and go first lightly, and later, if necessary, move the whole camp upriver.

The core of the party was to remain here, to study in detail the ore zone on the southern slope of the ridge, to clear out the alleged ore veins. Only Peter could do the clearing; then he must stay. Ivan or Shody was to go with me. Shody clearly shied away from the unpleasant conversation and hurriedly went to the stream to wash the dishes. Ivan, to whom I again suggested to go with me, was silent for a while, biting his lips and fixing his eyes on the distant pass. Then he said resolutely.

“Eh, alright, let's go, chief. Well, mind you, an agreement: if we find tungsten - I get a bonus.”

“Definitely, Ivan.” I sighed with relief.

The last evening before leaving was wonderful. They talked about the found ores. Kirill Ilyin, the senior collector of the party, who held the honor of today's discovery of skarn, assured us that we were on the verge of discovering a grandiose deposit.

“Deposits of Malacca - puppies before Kafandar!” he repeated, waving his arms. “Imagine these places in a few years. The rails of the electric road run up the valley. Over there, at the entrance to the canyon, a tunnel. A funicular line rises to the Khozer-Mech Pass. Here, on the site of our camp, there is a large railway station. Marble platform, electricity... restaurant with champagne. The surrounding mountains are flooded with bright electric light, the stars are not visible...”

“That's disgusting!” noted Tanya, our collector, a passionate admirer of everything romantic in the work of geologists.

“Do not interrupt! The venerable Central Asian geologist Kirill Sergeevich Ilyin comes to the field he discovered in his youth. He gets out of the carriage. Mustachioed porters run up to him, pick up suitcases...”

“Will you, when you become a professor, also carry a lot of unnecessary things with you?” Tanya mocked.

“Please do not interrupt! Where did we leave off? Oh yes, suitcases... A taxi is waiting outside the station. A few minutes later we drive up to the mine headquarters, a seven-story building of glass and steel, built over there on the terrace where the sheep graze.”

“So what will be good?” Tanya intervened again. “For all this, it will not be worth going to Central Asia.”

“Rotten woman!” Kirill retorted. “Her type will die out like ichthyosaurs. Why did you go to the Mining Institute? To watch the sunset In the mountains? For campfire evenings? Or maybe to take a photo of the leopard when he starts shaking his paw? No, tell me, wouldn't you like to work at the mine that will eventually be built here? Living in a new city that has grown up before your eyes? Drive your car along the asphalt highway where you climbed yesterday, holding on to the tail of the donkey?”

“I prefer to travel, holding on to the tail of the donkey!” snapped Tanya and started the gramophone.

The argument subsided. Shody, who was sitting gloomily in the shade of the tent, crept closer. We listened to the music for a long time, until Tanya announced that the concert was over and it was time to sleep.

While sitting in the tent, I noted with pleasure that I was completely calm - the trip to Kafandar did not cause alarm even now, in the middle of the night. As I fell asleep, I again remembered sleeping in a cave on Bel-Dara, but this picture was immediately obscured by a huge ore skarn, in which crystals of scheelite of fantastic size turned yellow. The ore moved over me and I fell asleep.

The sun had not yet risen over the ridge when we were all sitting at breakfast. It was decided that Kirill and Tanya would undertake a detailed study of the skarn zone, Peter would make the necessary clearing, and Ivan and I would go to the upper reaches for three days. If necessary, Ivan will return for a transfer to the top of the entire camp.

There was no trace of Ivan's confident appearance yesterday. The Tatar was gloomy and viciously cursed Shody, who helped him to load the horse. Contrary to his custom, Shody said nothing.

At seven o'clock in the morning our little caravan set out. Kirill and I walked ahead, followed by Ivan leading a loaded horse. Tanya brought up the rear of the procession. Shody, very upset, looked after us for a long time. At parting he gave me some kind of yellow powder and very seriously asked me to throw a little bit of it into the fire up there. Seeing my hesitation, he pleadingly said, “Please take it, chief, maybe it will do you good.”

Tanya and Kirill took us to the mouth of the Say, where the path leading to the pass disappeared. This is where we parted. They climbed into the skarn zone, and Ivan and I moved further along the path.

It seemed to me that Kirill looked inquiringly at me and wanted to say something, but then he looked at Tanya and changed his mind. Already fifty meters away, he shouted, “If you’re gone more than three days, we’ll come look for you.”

I nodded my head.

The path along which we climbed became steeper and steeper. Our tents already seemed like barely visible points far below. By midday we climbed over the adjacent side ridges. On a small snowfield, the barely discernible path disappeared altogether. Further the path lay along the moraine and talus.

At the end of the snowfield, we crossed the skarn zone discovered by Kirill. Here they were only small veins. They fizzled out and disappeared before reaching the pass. But downwards they became wider, in some places swellings were visible, standing out in dark spots against the background of lighter rocks. Somewhere below, on one of these blow-outs, Kirill and Tanya were working now.

I caught myself thinking that I was gladdened by the disappearance of the ore zone on this side of the ridge. This means that the entire deposit is here, and there is no need to explore the upper reaches of Kafandar beyond the pass for a long time. I couldn't help thinking, Why am I excited about the possibility of a quick return? I don’t believe in these fairy tales... Let Klunnikov say whatever he wants! Mysterious descendants of Jurassic monkeys of Central Asia! Strange creatures, from whose bites horses die! That way, it would occur to someone to explain the legends about trolls by the fact that Dryopithecus or other ancient monkeys once lived in the Scandinavian mountains... Busy with my own thoughts, I stumbled and nearly fell.

It became more and more difficult to climb the moving talus. The horse often stopped, the pack slipped. He had to be bandaged several times. We moved in passes of five or six steps. Stones fell noisily from under our feet. After each pass, I had to stop and catch my breath.

Only a few tens of meters remained to the pass, when the road became completely impossible. Now Ivan walked in front. He pulled the horse by the reins; I held her from behind by the tail. Near the pass, the horse stumbled and fell. Fortunately, Ivan managed to cut the ropes of the pack. Miraculously we managed to keep the horse and the pack on the edge of the cliff. We still lost the kettle: hitting the stones with a clink, it flew off into the abyss. The horse barely got up. Her legs were trembling. Ivan and I breathed like fish taken out of water. After resting, we dragged the horse to the pass first, then the pack in parts. The most difficult half of the way was passed. Now we could look around!

Even Ivan, indifferent to mountain beauty, burst out an exclamation of delight. Wherever the eye could reach, ridges crowned with snow and ice stretched in endless rows. They lay below us. Huge, dazzling white snowfields sparkled and sparkled in the sun's rays. Ice was transparently blue among the snows. In the south, the ridges rose one above the other, and the distant horizon was closed by the icy teeth of Darvaz. Below us lay the Kafandar valley. The river gleamed like a silvery thread among the greenery. Above us there was only cloudless sky and the gentle cool sun.

I stood spellbound. It is difficult for people who have not climbed the mountains to understand the feelings of a traveler who has reached the top of a pass. The horizons that have opened seem boundless, the chest breathes freely and deeply, the incoming gusts of wind intoxicate, the whole body is permeated with some especially acute joy... I don't even want to think about the return, the descent.

With regret, I looked up from the snowy mountains stretching to the south, crossed the saddle, overgrown with wild onions, and looked around the space of the northern slope where our path led. What a difference compared to what was in the south!

The snow-covered slope sloped gently down to a wide green valley. It seemed that the bottom of the valley was only two hundred meters below us. From above, it looked completely flat. The waters of the Kafandar flowed among the bright green meadows. In the east, the valley was closed by a limestone wall, in which a crack in the canyon gaped. In this crack the river disappeared. To the west was a rocky circus filled with a huge moraine; under it, probably, lay the Kafandar glacier. There were the sources of the Kafandar.

The ridge bordering the valley from the north was almost entirely covered with meadows; only at the very watershed a strip of snow was white. What splendid pastures have been wasted here year after year! Is it really all about the difficulties of the road leading here?

I showed Ivan the way to go. We were to go down to the river and spend the night. Tomorrow I would go around the valley, and Ivan would move with the camp to the very sources of the river. There we would meet in the evening and spend the second night. Then another day of work, and the next morning back to the main camp.

There was no need to think about looking for ore veins on these gentle, turf-covered slopes. It only remained to inspect the rocky places, which would surely be found among the grass, and to explore the rocky ledges of the glacial circus.

Ivan noticeably cheered up when he saw the green undulating expanses of the upper reaches of the valley. His usual calmness and crude humor soon returned to him. Tying the pack, he winked at me.

Having made some photographs and briefly describing the covered part of the route, we started down. The descent turned out to be quite easy. We passed the snowfield and soon walked along a gentle slope overgrown with thick tall grass. The eye was struck by the abundance of flowers. The dark emerald grass was covered by the bright heads of poppies everywhere, the blue, yellow and purple corollas of irises and tulips, large pale blue forget-me-nots and many other flowers, the names of which I did not know. Bright butterflies fluttered in the air. It seemed that butterflies and flowers were the only inhabitants of these places. We did not meet a single path, not a single trace among the thick grass. Even the birds were not visible. A deep silence reigned everywhere.

An hour later we came to one of the Kafandar channels. We decided to set up camp near a hillock overgrown with stunted thorny bushes. Ivan remained in charge, while I took a backpack and a hammer and went to the black rocks that closed the exit from the valley. There rose up a sheer wall a few kilometers from our camp.

It was already getting dark when I returned to the camp, barely dragging my feet from fatigue, but very pleased. In the limestone cliffs, I found the fauna, and now this damned stratum, which looked completely dumb, will have to take its place in the stratigraphic column. I also examined the entrance to the canyon, in which the river disappeared. Here the canyon was as impassable as below.

We had to eat dry food - there was no fuel for the fire.

Ivan offered to take turns on guard at night, but I flatly refused, climbed into a sleeping bag and instantly fell asleep.

How much I slept, I don't know. I was awakened by a terrible rumble that sounded above my head. Halfway out of the bag, I realized that I had been awakened by a shot.

Ivan, with a carbine in his hands, stood over me, peering into the darkness.

“What?” I asked him in a whisper.

“A beast.”

“What beast?”

“I don’t know. A wolf, or maybe a leopard.”

“Where is the horse?”

“Here. I tied it at the very sack.”

My heart relieved. “Alright. So you haven't slept?”

“I dozed a little. The horse snorted - I woke up.”

“What happened next?”

“I look, and there is something black moving. So I shot...”

“Missed?”

“I don’t know. Dawn - we'll see.”

“I didn’t hear, - it ran after the shot?”

“I don’t...”

“Lie down, sleep,” I said, “I will be on guard. I'll wake you up in two hours.”

“Eh, what a nightmare!” Ivan muttered. “Sleep will not come to my soul. You are already asleep: tomorrow you will climb the mountains. And I'll take a nap in the afternoon...”

I climbed into the bag again and tried to sleep. It turned out to be not that easy. I lay for a long time, staring at the thick blackness of the sky, full of stars, unconsciously looking for familiar constellations. It was uncomfortable to lie down. It took quite a long time before I realized that all the muscles in my body were tense and I listened consciously, trying to catch some rustle or movement. There was a deep silence. Only now and then did the horse sigh noisily, and Ivan tossed and turned from side to side. With an effort of will, I tried to weaken the tension that gripped me, but it did not work well.

All sorts of things climbed into my head: Shody, quarreling with the old shepherd, yesterday's ascent to the pass, Klunnikov with his hypotheses... Then I suddenly remembered the stories of trappers who had met the traces of some gigantic animals in Central Africa. The natives living on the outskirts of the impenetrable African swamps assured the hunters that these tracks belonged to huge, terrible animals that looked like an elephant or a crocodile. If there was some truth in these stories, it means that somewhere in Central Africa, the descendants of the dinosaurs of the Jurassic and Cretaceous eras are still alive. Why couldn't the ancient monkeys also survive somewhere, those same Dryopithecus and Australopithecines, which, apparently, were the ancestors of man and about which we know almost nothing? Perhaps there is still a grain of truth in Klunnikov's hypothesis?

It was only before dawn that I dozed off, but soon felt someone shaking my shoulder.

“Get up, boss!”

I opened my eyes in bewilderment. It was already dawn. The snows in the upper reaches of Kafandar gleamed golden, illuminated by the morning sun. Long blue shadows lay on the slopes.

The wide green valley, wet with dew, breathed freshness.

“Well, who did you shoot at night?” I asked Ivan, getting out of the sleeping bag.

“I did not shoot anyone, and there are no traces.”

“So there was no one.”

Ivan grunted something, pretending to be busy opening a tin can.

We ate breakfast in silence. After breakfast, having agreed with Ivan about the meeting place, I immediately went on the route.

The most wonderful mood stayed with me all the first half of the day. As if there was no sleepless night, worries, or fears. I walked about fifteen kilometers easily and briskly, stopping from time to time to inspect the rock outcrops and make notes. At noon, crossing the endless limestone talus, I noticed two moving points on the bank of the Kafandar. Ivan had migrated to a new place, leading the horse along by the bit.

The alarm returned unexpectedly. I had already reached the very upper reaches of the valley and was in a small side creek above the Kafandar glacier. The place was unusually dark and wild. A narrow rocky crack, almost a crevice, widening, formed a small crater, the platform of which seemed to hang over a chaotic pile of blocks of the Kafandar moraine. The black walls of the crater, hewn with cracks, rose steeply upward, from where huge stones hung. Not a single bush of greenery, only black teeth, columns and cornices, reminiscent of the fantastic ruins of the city of giants. Cold and horror blew over me from this gloomy place.

Having quickly examined the accessible part of the cliffs, I sat down on a stone to record my observations. Suddenly I felt uneasy. It seemed that someone was looking at my back. I turned around quickly. Not a soul. The circle was deserted, like the whole valley. I continued the recording, turning my face from the direction from which I thought it was looking. A curse! Now, I felt it powerfully, someone was looking at my back, looking hard, persistently, viciously.

I tried to pull myself together and banish the fear. Then it seemed that someone was approaching me. I broke down and looked back again. Nobody. Suddenly, falling stones rustled behind. I jumped up. Rockfalls are frequent in the mountains, but this rockfall finally threw me off balance. I snatched a revolver from my pocket and fired at where the stones were falling and where a cloud of dust rose among the black teeth of the rocks. The shot rang out with multiple echoes, and in the ensuing silence, the rustle of falling stones was heard from all directions. Their fall was probably caused by the concussion of the air during the shot, but I suddenly felt so unbearably spooked that I quickly grabbed my backpack and started to run down the steep slope to the Kafandar glacier. It was only at the foot of the talus that I stopped and took a breath. The crater from which I fled so quickly and from below it looked gloomy and mysterious. And the surrounding landscape was even darker and grander. In the slanting rays of the setting sun, gigantic black walls shone, closing the large crater of the Kafandar glacier. Streaks of snow gleamed on them. The moraine lay in black frozen waves. It was hard to imagine a wilder and more majestic place.

The sun disappeared behind a jagged wall of a kilometer-long cliff. A shadow moved, and a piercing cold breathed. I had to hurry. Anxiously looking around, I moved along the edge of the moraine down to the camp.

Looking for it with my eyes, I was surprised to see smoke rising almost vertically in the still evening air. Did Ivan find fuel in this green desert? Trying to avoid open areas, I headed towards the smoke. The guess turned out to be correct. Looking out from behind the last mound that covered the source of smoke, I saw a horse grazing two hundred meters away, sleeping bags and tarpaulin laid out. The fire burned brightly. Ivan was chopping something near him. I sighed with relief, feeling that I had returned home.

“Where does the wood come from?” was my first question when I approached the camp.

Ivan grinned.

“You’d never believe it! Yes, I'm here, Vladimir Leksandrych, I made a whole discovery. Look!”

I looked in the direction indicated. Not far from the camp, on a hill, was a structure — a yellowish hut with a flat roof. A long pole stuck out beside it.

“What it is?”

“A mazar, I think. A Muslim burial place. It had a wooden door. I used it for firewood. And we will take that stick,” he pointed to the pole. “We will burn a fire all night!”

A mazar in the headwaters of Kafandar, just two kilometers from the glacier. An interesting find! What kind of saint is buried here?

“Let's go and see,” I said. “At the same time we will take the pole from there.”

“Haven't you been out all day? Don’t you want to eat?”

I waved my hand.

Grumbling displeased, Ivan pulled out a burning ember from the fire and followed me.

The mazar turned out to be a cube-shaped adobe structure about three meters high. There were no windows, only the entrance was blackened by a narrow rectangular slit. Dense grass grew wildly around. Apparently, no one had been there for a long time. The shepherds could hardly know about the existence of this grave.

Outside, there were no signs on the walls - only peeling clay. We climbed inside. An impromptu torch lit up empty walls, an earthen floor, a large rough stone in the middle. The stone was elongated and resembled a coffin. We were unable to move it.

We climbed out. From the hill on which the mazar stood, a view opened up, majestic and beautiful. In the evening gloom, a moraine went up in giant steps. It rested against the gigantic wall of the ridge. In the depths of the crater, where the steps of the moraine merged with the ridge, snow and indistinct bluish masses of ice gleamed white. And below, at the foot of the hill, the light of our camp "home" gleamed comfortably.

“Good!” burst out from me.

“Good, good,” Ivan agreed, lifting the twisted pole on his shoulder, “but for me, it’s best there.” He pointed to a barely discernible spot of the pass through which we came.

I suddenly felt light and cheerful at the thought of tomorrow's return. I thought with particular warmth of our comrades in the lower camp. How are they now? Probably, they are also looking at the pass and talking about us. We sat down to supper. Juicy pilaf and hot tea seemed like a luxurious feast after two days of "dry food".

“Shall I guard today?” I asked after the pilaf was finished.

“To watch for what?” said Ivan bravely. “It's empty here, as in a hungry belly. For the whole day I have not seen a single bird, let alone any beast.”

“And I did not see... Strange. What pastures - and no goats, no other animals. There aren’t even birds. I can't understand why...”

Ivan looked at me inquiringly, but seeing that I was not going to continue, he took up tea.

It got dark. We tied the horse closer to the camp and climbed into the sleeping bags. Ivan lay down near the fire itself. I settled down next to him.

Falling asleep, Ivan muttered, “Tomorrow you need to get up a little earlier. Climb the pass before the heat...”

I couldn't sleep for a long time. I got up twice and adjusted the fire.

I checked if the carbine was loaded. I tucked the revolver deeper under the sleeping bag. It was quiet. The spicy scent of some flowers thickened the still air. The horse calmly nibbled on the grass.

I lay, remembering today's route: in general, the upper reaches of the Kafandar did not yield interesting finds, except for yesterday's fauna in limestones. There is no ore here. But the white spot on the map will now be detailed. The northeast corner of the map is finished... But what the hell happened to me in that sai? Never before have I been so afraid in the mountains. My nerves started to fail.

I fell asleep imperceptibly.

I woke up from some sudden movement next to me. The fire was burning out. It was deep night. An instinctive sense of danger made me jump up. I turned to Ivan and froze, feeling the icy coldness piercing my whole body with prickly needles.

Ivan, crouching unnaturally, tried to get up, leaning his left hand on the ground and half leaning out of the bag. He held out his right hand with outstretched fingers in front of him, as if defending himself from someone. His face was twisted, an expression of wild horror frozen in his eyes, staring into the darkness over my head.

He tried to say something and could not; his whole body shook as in a fever, his face was covered with large drops of sweat.

What did he see there, in the dark, behind my back?

Instinctively, covering my head with my hand, I looked around. A dying fire lit up a small area around the camp. There was no one on this site.

A shrill scream made me turn back to the fire. Ivan was already sitting on the grass by the sleeping bag. His eyes were still fixed on the darkness behind me, and a revolver was swinging in his hand, pointed at my chest. He pressed the trigger with his finger. His grip, brought together by a convulsion, did not obey. However, I managed to notice that the hammer was cocked.

"Now he will shoot me" flashed through my head.

I stepped forward and managed to push aside the barrel aimed at me. The bullet whistled very close by. I was stunned, but still managed to grab the revolver before the second shot was fired.

Ivan screamed shrilly and terribly and, rushing back, sacked to the ground. The revolver remained in my hand.

I jumped up, looking around. No one was there. The horse, frightened by the shot, flared its nostrils and looked sideways at me. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and suddenly felt weak at once, felt my knees buckle from a sharp, intermittent tremor. Blood pounded deafeningly in my temples.

Ivan lay motionless. I bent over him. He could hardly breathe and, apparently, was in a deep swoon. I scooped up a mug of cooled tea and poured it over his head. I had to repeat this operation several times before he moved and forcefully opened his eyes.

I put a wet handkerchief on his forehead and said as calmly as possible:

“Well, now, everything is all right, Ivan.”

At the sound of my voice, his face took on a meaningful expression. He threw off his handkerchief and sat down. Fearfully glanced sideways; after a pause, he asked hoarsely:

“Is it gone?”

“What?”

“It was... from the mazar...”

“What are you thinking? There was no one in the mazar.”

“There were... There are many of them...”

I felt uneasy; I involuntarily glanced towards the mazar.

“Gone?” Ivan repeated half-questioningly.

You understand my condition at that moment. Now I myself am amused at the thought of what nonsense could so greatly frighten two adult men who have come face to face with real danger more than once. But then... Deep, impenetrable night. An empty desert place surrounded by an aura of some vague mystery and fear. Nervous tension that did not leave us for two days... Finally, the wild delirium of my companion... All this, taken together, deprived me of my composure.

“What are you talking about?” I shouted roughly. "You dreamed of something, and became frail like an old woman. You almost shot me!”

“I shot him,” Ivan muttered guiltily, “I shot, and he grabbed me...”

“I grabbed you by the hands, I pulled out the revolver...”

Ivan sobbed. “Boss, don’t be angry. I'm scared... Have you heard about the Snow Devils? Ugh, to remember it at night... Here is their home. Therefore, there are no beasts here either. All were devoured by the Devils. And you and I can't take our heads out of it...”

“What are you talking about?” I interrupted him sharply. “What devils? Come to your senses!”

“Eh, you do not know anything!” Ivan waved his hand. “And why did I go with you?” He bent down to my very face, and I smelled thick fumes of vodka.

“You're drunk, Ivan!” I burst out.

“I drank a little, for the night, for courage,” he admitted ruefully, “but apparently it didn’t help. I'm afraid, boss.”

“I see,” I said coldly. “So that's why you nearly shot me. Your drunken eyes took me for a Snow Devil.”

“Don't laugh, boss...”

What a laugh! I almost killed him.

"How did I nearly shoot you?”

“You know well how.”

“Yes, I did not see you. You slept like...” He suddenly fell silent and began to look around anxiously, peering into the darkness.

I looked around too. “What is there, Ivan?”

“The horse is worried about something. Ears pricked up!”

“Go to bed,” I advised. “And then your drunken eyes will see something else. Lie down, I'll watch.”

Ivan shook his head.

We were silent for a while. Then Ivan threw more fuel into the fire and, staring at the vibrating tongues of flame, from which sparks broke off and flew away into the darkness, continued, “Whatever you say, boss, this is an unclean place. Where have you heard of flowers that smelled like that? From the smell of just one, my head spins and my eyes get cloudy. Again, the mazar... Why is it here? This is not human handiwork. These are Snow Devils, boss.”

"Alright, ‘unclean’, ‘not human’... But understand, that even if these Snow Devils, as you call them, do exist somewhere, then they are monkeys, the most ordinary monkeys... Have you been to the zoological garden?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Have you seen the monkeys?”

“I saw them.”

“So these are the ‘Snow Devils’.”

Ivan's face expressed indescribable amazement.

“Tell me, please,” he drawled, “and I thought monkeys were like animals. And such a nasty thing in the world does not happen. Ay-ay-ay, ugh, forgive me God!”

It took a while for me to realize that when drunk Ivan understood me in a completely different way than he should have.

Continuing to shake his head, he raised his eyes to me as if he wanted to add something else, when suddenly a grimace of horror distorted his face.

“Here they are!” he cried frantically, staring into the darkness above my head. “A-ah!”

The horse whinnied in fright and darted about on a leash.

My nerves could not stand it. My breathing stopped. An ice hoop squeezed my head. The thought flashed that there was not enough strength to look back. I screamed too, not knowing why.

The horse continued to beat desperately. Then I heard the lasso burst and the horse, without ceasing to cry, rushed away.

Gritting my teeth painfully to interrupt the cry, I threw my hand with the revolver behind my back and fired several times. Only then did I force myself to turn around. There was no one on the site, lit as it was by a bonfire. The echo died down, and I heard the sound of our horse from afar. From time to time she whinnied. There was fear and pain in her neigh.

I was shaking as if in a violent fever. My teeth chattered so hard that my ears rang. My knees were trembling. I began to rub my forehead to free myself from the icy grip on my head. My hand touched the hair there that stood on end, as if electrified. I pulled it back in horror.

Listening and peering into the darkness, I circled around the fire. I felt that I could hardly stand still and could not bring myself to sit. Ivan lay motionless. He was probably unconscious again.

What did he see in the dark behind my back? Who attacked the horse?

I seem to have repeated these questions aloud, running around the fire and looking around in all directions. It seemed to me that someone was preparing to jump on me from the darkness.

This sensation became completely unbearable when, completely exhausted, I knelt down near the fire itself. It was no longer fear, but some kind of attack of madness. My ears were ringing, my head was spinning.

Then Shody's face flashed before my eyes, and I remembered.

I began frantically fumbling in my pockets. I found a small bundle. I tried to untie it, failed, and threw the whole thing into the fire. The knot burst into a greenish flame and instantly turned the fire bright green. A sharp, pungent odor, reminiscent of camphor, spread around.

Strangely, I felt reassured. My head felt better. The trembling abated. My thoughts cleared. Slowly I came into a state of utter apathy and some kind of amazing peace. Everything became unnecessary. Whoever appeared near the camp now, I would not blink an eye.

It was very quiet. The fire was burning now with a light green flame. The flowers no longer smelled so foul. The stars seemed very close. Then they faded and I fell into oblivion.

The sun was high and burning mercilessly when I opened my eyes. Looking around, I was surprised to find that I was lying dressed on top of my sleeping bag. The fire was no longer smoking, and Ivan was not in the camp.

Gradually, I began to recall the events of the previous night. Were they dreams or reality? I got up, staggering with weakness, found my hat and pulled it over my head to protect myself from the sun. I noticed the absence of a horse, a broken lasso. I stepped aside and saw a bowler hat lying in the grass.

I returned to the camp; Ivan's sleeping bag was filled with tea. Certainly not a dream! That's the story!

Where did Ivan go? I started looking for binoculars. There were no binoculars either. For a while I sat motionless, wondering what to do.

“Wow!” came from afar.

Ivan strode towards the camp. When he got close, I noticed that he was very pale and upset. He had binoculars in his hands.

“It's rubbish, Vladimir Leksandrych, - the horse was overworked.”

I was silent, looking at him probingly. He continued, visibly agitated, “And I did not sleep, but when the horse left, I did not hear. I went to look; tracks go to the pass. Apparently, it ran home.”

“Didn't you wake up at night?” I asked in surprise.

“Woke up, put chips in the fire. The horse was here.”

“And everything was calm at night?”

“Calm down. What?”

“Nothing… you were delirious at night,” I said, surreptitiously watching him.

He shrugged.

“Some dream. But I don’t remember. Some kind of rubbish. It was hot. By the morning I lay down on top of the bag. And you, too, slept on top.”

I bit my lips. Ivan must not have remembered the night visions.

“Well,” I said, getting up, “we have to move. We'll have to carry the load on ourselves. What do we still have?”

“Two sacks and a saddle? I will carry it alone...”

“Ivan, why are you covered in tea?” I could not resist. “Look how many tea leaves are stuck on your face.”

“I drank at night, the pot overturned... And you, apparently, tended the fire at night. Your face looks like soot.”

I flinched, remembering how he nearly shot me.

“Yes, that's right, I smeared it with my hands. I'll go and wash.”

The cool water of the Kafandar completely restored my strength. I remembered the old truth: "All’s well that ends well." We needed to leave here as soon as possible, and henceforth visit such places in a large detachment.

A few minutes later, loaded with our simple belongings, we walked to the pass. The gentle climb was easily overcome and at noon we were already on the saddle. The stripe of the crushed grass indicated something's trail. We examined it carefully, and found distinct horseshoe prints. The horse was here at night. Deep indentations in the loose soil showed that the frightened animal was galloping.

In the shadow of a rock in the snow, next to the footprints of the horseshoes, we found another footprint, large and deep.

“Leopard,” said Ivan, straightening up. “Wow, and what a big devil! It passed our camp. On the descent, probably.”

“He has been hunting her since the first night,” I remarked. “And you and I are good, there is nothing to say.”

Ivan shook his head sadly.

I cast a farewell look around the deserted green valley and without the slightest regret turned away to the steep cliffs along the way back.

We began to descend quickly.

Having passed the moraine, at a sharp turn of the path, I ran headfirst into Cyril. He had an ice pick in his hands, a knife on his belt and two revolvers. Following him along the path were Shody and Peter, armed with axes and carbines. It was help. Cyril's gloomy face spread into a wide smile, Peter opened his mouth, and Shody blinked his eyes in amazement.

“Where are you going?” I asked when the joyous exclamations ceased and the excitement caused by the meeting subsided.

“How! Where!” Cyril yelled. “We thought something happened to you. Your horse galloped like crazy in the morning; her whole back is streaked with clawmarks. Shody says it’s a leopard.”

“Well, well, what could have happened to us!” I said, taking off my hat and wiping my sweaty forehead.

Cyril stepped back, fixing his wide-open eyes on my head.

Peter gasped.

“Lord, your head!” I heard Ivan's voice from behind. “Vladimir Leksandrych, you are completely gray-haired!”

I involuntarily grabbed my hair with my hands; looked at Shody. He shook his head in understanding and contrition.

That's all!

And the Snow Devils, these mysterious ancient monkeys? - you ask.

An overnight stay at the old mazar, despite all the significant hints of Shody, did not add anything new to the stories and legends. On Kafandar these animals, apparently, do not and never did exist. But a botanical expedition, which several years later worked in the area, found there, among alpine meadows, whole thickets of rare poisonous ether-bearing plants. I think that their poisonous aroma in the thin air of the highlands had an exciting effect on me and Ivan. Apparently, it was these flowers that the Kafandar owed its ill fame.

In Dushanbe, I managed to find out that the old mazar, near which we spent the night, was built at the beginning of the last century. Some local feudal lord, hunting in the upper reaches of the Kafandar, experienced a fit of madness there, along with his entire retinue. It seems that the hunters had a fight at night and in a fight broke the head of the learned man - one of the close associates of the feudal lord. They attributed the madness that gripped them at night to the curse of the Snow Devils. And they decided to bury the man in the upper reaches of the Kafandar in order to annoy the Devils who would have to go far around the holy grave.

Ivan's wild delirium, of course, is explained not only by the action of poisonous flowers, but also by the vodka drank for courage. Ivan took the leopard who attacked the horse for a flock of Snow Devils he was thinking of all the time.

Well, and what about the Snow Devils themselves? Do they exist?

Now I am firmly convinced that they do. During the Second World War, I had to visit Iran. There I read in an Indian newspaper about a strange monkey killed in the Himalayas during the construction of the Burma road. Judging by the description, this monkey was a predator and differed in many ways from modern monkeys. The animal's corpse was frozen and sent to England on one of the transport ships. The war was going on, and the ship did not reach the English coast. Somewhere off the coast of Madagascar, the transport was torpedoed by a fascist submarine. The only evidence of the existence of ancient monkeys in the mountains of Central Asia plunged into the depths of the Indian Ocean along with the remains of a wrecked ship.

Science demands proof. Therefore, the mysterious predator monkeys, together with modern African dinosaurs, still remain an undiscovered page in the book of nature today. And it would be very interesting to read this page. A new link would be woven into the still far-from-complete chain of our ape-like ancestors, another legend of the mountains would be confirmed, and I would finally know why our horses fell on Bel-Dara. 

[splat-dragon]

And what's this holding me? I'm not where I'm supposed to be ~You can't take me, Bryan Adams

She woke to the sound of men talking.

Their voices swam in and out of focus, pain lancing through her head. The ache she’d woken with the first time had gone, replaced with a pain from her temple where she’d been struck. It throbbed, and she feared she would puke, the pooling of saliva in her mouth making it quite clear that it was a distinct possibility. She licked her lips again, trying to swallow it all down, recognizing the man’s voice among those that danced in and out of the ringing in her ears, and getting the feeling he wouldn’t take kindly to her puking all over… wherever it was.

“She’s real scary lookin’, ain’t she,” the man who had kidnapped her said, sounding awful proud of himself.

Someone else chuckled, the voice unfamiliar, and she got the distinct feeling that the person was shaking his head, “Naw, not really. Plenty big, though.” Big? No, not really, she’d never been big in any sense of the word, except that one summer between middle and high school but that had been years ago.

“Should be ‘nuff to scare people off,” a new voice chimed in, reedy and nasal. Brought to mind someone tall and weed-like, stringy hair and a pointy face. Knowing her, though, he was just as likely to be squat and fat—she tended to be wrong a lot, what could she say?

“She’ll warn us if anyone gets close, at least,” said the man that kidnapped her, annoyed.

“Yeah, looks like she’ll be pretty loud. If anythin’, her barkin’ should be ‘nuff to scare ‘em off.” sneered the reedy-sounding man, and she was thrown for a loop. ‘Barking…?’ she wondered, vaguely, if it was some sort of an attempt at insulting her, some round-about way of calling her a bitch, but she got the feeling that if they were calling her a bitch, they would have called her one to her face. So… screaming was her best guess. Screaming at them, maybe? to let her go? It was a terrifying thought, but the only thing she could come up with.

“Hey, tie her up near the road. Don’ want her shittin’ on our doorstep.” all of the men laughed, and she didn’t know whether to scoff or snap or cuss and settled for a growl that rumbled low in her chest and tried to open her eyes. But her eyelids felt as though she’d had weights tied to them, and so she could only raise them to slits. Through them, though, she could just barely make out three men; one of them she instantly recognized as the one who’d grabbed her, the second a tall, scraggy fellow with a matted beard and a shirt that might have been red once that she pegged as the man with the reedy voice, and a short, stocky toad of a man with a nose that was more bump than actual nose, broken far too many times in his lifetime.

The stocky man reached for the lasso that hung at his hip, and she tried to move away, head throbbing, that growl spiking and leaving her stunned—it was a sound unlike any she’d heard before, deep and gravelly and stuttering like a failing engine, taking her off guard long enough that she didn’t see his expression change, a sneer distorting the deep lines of his face, his boot flicking out and striking the side of her head. She cried out in pain, stars dancing in front of her eyes as they laughed, the toad-like man grabbing her by her hair and dragging her through the dirt, not caring to answer as she gasped “What’s wrong with you?!”  

She thrashed and, when that did nothing except make him yank even harder, went limp so he’d have to haul dead weight but that, too, didn’t help, didn’t stop him or make him drop her and, before long, he’d dragged her to a nearly-dead tree not far from a half-rotted fence.

He unrolled the lasso, working it around the tree and bracing his foot against the trunk, tugging to make sure the knot wouldn’t come undone. As he did so, she tried to stand, didn’t even get to her hands before the world was dissolving into a swirl of tans and browns and blues, the calling birds and thudding of the faraway horses going tinny in her ears. She dropped back to the ground with a grunt, and decided to lay there. And yes, it was definitely her decision, she could have gotten up whenever she wanted, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

With the other end in hand, he approached her, and she growled, trying to jerk away, but he simply laughed “Yeah yeah, I’m real scared,” and grabbed her, and so weak was she that she could do nothing but lay there as he settled the noose around her neck, tugging it tight enough that she wouldn’t be able to get it over her head without struggling, and if she struggled it would fasten tight.

The squat man (‘Toad’, she decided to call him, although with the way his face was squashed in she was thinking about calling him ‘Bulldog’ instead, he looked like one and she wouldn’t be surprised to find out he was as inbred as one, too) lumbered off, and she stretched out, panting in the heat, wishing desperately for so much as a sip of water, her mouth painfully dry and she was certain there was something rasping in there when she breathed, whether it was her tongue turning to dust or something making a home only it knew.

A gleam caught the corner of her eye, could have been something or it could have been nothing, but she was really hoping it was something, so she turned her head just a hair and could have cried when she saw a puddle just a stretch away. It wasn’t the cleanest looking puddle, an off-shade of brown, and if it weren’t for the light gleaming off of it she would have missed it entirely. But it was a puddle, and a puddle was water, so she crawled forward, world spinning around her, black dots dancing in her vision enough to coalesce, blocking her vision as she leaned down to drink, finding the puddle only by touch, stopping when she felt something wet against her hand.

“Oh thank god,” she gasped, and flung herself into the puddle to drink, not caring of how filthy it was, not caring of the dirt that floated on top or the germs that surely bred in the still water. She gulped down mouthful after mouthful, the small puddle rapidly draining, and only stopped when something moved, jolting back for fear of a snake or similar lunging out at her,

and she would have preferred if it were, because there was a goddamned dog staring back at her, rippling and distorted in the water.