((Takes place immediately after The Scorpion of Shan'Gai Chah. Make sure you read them in order!))
They got so close. The sent of fetid Drybone blew out over the dirt, unmistakable. The road leading to Highbridge was in few. The dirt had turned muddy, rocky, and stiff budding plants stuck out from the cracks in search of sunlight. Rodents moved among the shrubs. Larger, white-furred animals stirred a hundred yalms further into the wilderness. They could almost here the splash of the pool that K'ile had said would mark his tribe's location, could almost smell the scent of a troubled population of miqo'te. That was how close they came.
Just over a dozen of the large, white-furred creatures milled. Some lifted their faces and ears to observe the pair of tattered dead things and their red-headed captive walking north and east. Others among the beasts kept their faces to the dirt, walking a few fulms at a time to seek scrub brush. Then, all at once, they stopped and looked to the south, ears and bodies primed to move. They stood, frozen.
K'ile had gone unconscious at some point and and hung limp from Thal's grip. Beside them, K'aijeen walked with a smile on her face. The rest of her shattered features were covered by a tattered shroud, a torn, filthy cloth the only covering of her torn body. She had not forgotten that Thal had told her to remain away from the tribe when she arrived, but her tireless form moved with a lightness to its step anyway. over laborious hours, she had managed to swallow the sand that had worked its way into the wound in her throat, and covered the wound with her hand. Now she spoke more clearly than she had in days, her grating voice holding a hint of the high, small voice her living body would have had. "You'll see when we get home. You won't have anything to be afraid of there. They'll take care of us."
They got so close. The sent of fetid Drybone blew out over the dirt, unmistakable. The road leading to Highbridge was in few. The dirt had turned muddy, rocky, and stiff budding plants stuck out from the cracks in search of sunlight. Rodents moved among the shrubs. Larger, white-furred animals stirred a hundred yalms further into the wilderness. They could almost here the splash of the pool that K'ile had said would mark his tribe's location, could almost smell the scent of a troubled population of miqo'te. That was how close they came.
Just over a dozen of the large, white-furred creatures milled. Some lifted their faces and ears to observe the pair of tattered dead things and their red-headed captive walking north and east. Others among the beasts kept their faces to the dirt, walking a few fulms at a time to seek scrub brush. Then, all at once, they stopped and looked to the south, ears and bodies primed to move. They stood, frozen.
K'ile had gone unconscious at some point and and hung limp from Thal's grip. Beside them, K'aijeen walked with a smile on her face. The rest of her shattered features were covered by a tattered shroud, a torn, filthy cloth the only covering of her torn body. She had not forgotten that Thal had told her to remain away from the tribe when she arrived, but her tireless form moved with a lightness to its step anyway. over laborious hours, she had managed to swallow the sand that had worked its way into the wound in her throat, and covered the wound with her hand. Now she spoke more clearly than she had in days, her grating voice holding a hint of the high, small voice her living body would have had. "You'll see when we get home. You won't have anything to be afraid of there. They'll take care of us."
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