Invisible Lines

Talia was fairly pleased with her little hut and over the next few days, she added to her temporary home. A palm mat was easy to weave on the following day and she found the strange nuts hanging from the trees to be nourishing, though her stomach hadn't adjusted well to them that first evening. She had climbed a tree using her shirt to wrap around the trunk as a counterbalance as she braced her feet to make the ascent. The hard green nuts were easy to retrieve and she used her knife to knock down a slew of them before making her way to the sandy ground again. With her prizes gathered in her arms, she retreated to her hut where she could crack them in the shade.

The green outer shell was difficult to deal with, sliding out of her hands a few times, until she finally managed to wedge her knife point under a small divet and pry apart the hull. Excited for some food, she dug into the shell, looking for the meat and found yet another shell, this one smaller and covered in hairy fibers. What sort of joke was this? She couldn't eat the second nut on the inside, and she set to work cracking the hairy part. A few slips of the knife got her irritated, but after much stabbing and a few kicked coconuts, she pried open the orb with a loud grunt of victory. The juice splattered her arms and her sleeping mat, but that didn't bother her as she brought the jagged edge to her lips to drink down what remained. "Mmmm...." It was satisfying. Better than satisfying. The nuts meaty interior was delicious and once the first one was entirely stripped down, she grabbed up another greedily and set to work.

Not three hours later while she hunted a treat for the falcon, her stomach gave a gurgle. Ignoring the rumble, she kept walking through the desert, looking for any sign of a snake or other treat for the falcon to be tempted with. Then a pressure began to build in her guts, inching its way down to a very unpleasant exit. She was fine so long as she could get her hunting done, but another loud squeak from her lower belly told her that wasn't going to happen. "Uhg...no.." Talia clutched at her stomach and scanned the desert looking for a decent place to hide. She didn't want to be caught out in the open taking a shit. Her golden eyes landed on a larger sand dune and that sealed her decision to make a break for it, dashing to the shady side of the dune while she unbuttoned her pants on the way. After an hour, her intestines stopped twisting and she kicked a fair amount of sand over the mess. On the fourth kick, her foot ran across something solid and it went flying into the air, flailing about with an angry hiss. Snake.

Without hesitation, she pulled out her scythe and stepped forward to swipe its head off before it had the chance to recover. A flash of blood sent the snakes head rolling, though her cut was a little further down the body than she had wanted. The serpents brown scaled body twitched, curling in on itself for a few minutes before going limp so she could pick it up. It wasn't beyond her that the creature had been snoozing not 5 ft from where she had chosen to stop and she made mental note to be more careful where she stepped out in the sand from now on.

The bird didn't like her, and that was made apparent the next day when she had a chance to approach it on her own. It roosted on the smithy wall for a while and she approached it with deliberate movements. As soon as she got within 10 feet of it, the great falcon began to hiss at her, and she stopped. Pulling the snake from her belt, and held the offering up so the bird could see it with a beady yellow eye. "That's right," she said, making it track her hands, "You like snakes I bet." At least it wasn't hissing at her when she tossed up the fare, allowing it to snatch the meat from the air.

Every day, she tried to get close to the bird without much luck. Still, she had hope that she could get the creature to let her near. She wanted to bring the bird home where it belonged but she couldn't do that unless it let her close without tearing her to shreds. Some tribes just grabbed and ran with the birds when they were small, but hers didn't snatch eglets from their nest. After the 4th day, she retreated to her reed hut, having spent hours in the sun trying to get close to the bird, and avoiding Arames. What would she do if she was away from home too long? Her mother already presumed she was dead more than likely and her brother wouldn't spare anyone to come looking. Rolling over, Talia picked at her reed mat and sighed. The bird would mean everything to her people and she had to find a way to bring it home. Slowly her eyes drifted closed and she fell asleep curled up on her side.

Swoosh. The sound of the wind roaring woke her. Each gust ripped through the palm leaves as the reed frame of her hut clattered against the rocks at its base while sand blasted through the walls, stinging against her skin. A storm? Surely it wouldn't get that bad. It wasn't like the sand trap had much rain to cause too serious of a storm. She picked up her shirt and huddled down underneath it, trying to ignore the wind until a heavy gust bent the reeds nearly on top of her from the force of the wind, making her sit up some to support her hut at the frame. Her muscles strained hard against the wind to keep her hut in place. "No..no...no..." How long would the storm last? Another hard gust hit and the reeds snapped like twigs, wrenching the structure out of her hands and cutting them along the way. As soon as the shelter was gone, a rain of mud and sand hit her like a wall and she yelped at the sharp stinging amid the hard hits of mud splattering her. There was only one thing she could do, and that was run to the smithy. Snatching up her scythe, Talia half stumbled and half ran to the half walls of the workshop then dove into the corner with her head covered. All sound was swept away along with any clean air available. She coughed and sputtered as she tucked her nose into her shirt, curling into herself and praying to Kulytra that she was strong enough to weather the storm.

Even if the girl hadn't grabbed onto her little hut to hold it down it was obvious by the way she fought the wind that she was in trouble. Arames hadn't thought much of it until he thought back at how light she felt when he had grabbed her. Were all foreigners that light? Letting the flap down on his window he sealed it tightly again and checked for his bucket with a few oils. It was so he could wash up after his work and he didn't really get the water dirty today. He was going to use it tomorrow instead of wasting it, but she would have to get cleaned up if he was going to bring her inside.

Pulling one of his shirts on he tucked the front of it into his pants and pushed the door open to his little stone house. No sooner had he done that, then all the larger animals wanted in too. It was going to be a crowded house tonight, but that was normal. All except for the girl. She was an unusual addition and her head was buried in her arms and shirt. He doubted that she'd heard him, or seen him. Closing the door behind himself he crouched to avoid as much of the wind and mud splatters as he could while he worked his way over to her. Grabbing her around the waist he picked her up and scuttled back to the house. Once he had the door open Arames thrust her inside and then set to work making a hot tea. He would like one and he was sure she would want one too.

Since he was up many of the animals followed him around and nudged at him gently. A small desert lion that he had came over to his side and opened its jaws wide and pretended to gnaw on his leg. With a grunt Arames pushed the cat's mouth away from his leg and then reached into the beloved snack jar. Even the animals that hadn't asked were suddenly perked and quite interested in the food.

The great red bird squawked and waddled over. Every now and then it would flap its wings to make the other animals make space for it. Arames knew the bird was just being ornery and it wanted all the snacks. All the animals could hunt for themselves and most of them knew how to find shelter, but after they had been under his care they knew it was safer in his abode and they would often want in. After the rounds of snacks to all the animals, Arames finished making the tea for himself and the girl. He took her tea to her first and he studied her as best he could to see what kind of injuries she had. There were a few things he could do to help wash up her bloodied hands and treat them. He had plenty of dressings for her.

Setting his tea down he got back up and took himself to his kitchen to gather a few things. When he came back, Arames had a bucket with the wash rag and some oils. He made sure the oils he had were soothing and then he grabbed her free hand gently and started to wash it. If she would let him he would bandage it too, but he couldn't tell if she would allow him to help her, or not.

The roar of wind and the sting of sand surrounded her as she curled further into herself. This place truly was hell with it's biting and ever present Sun along with freak storms and no green for miles. How would these people want to live here in such a husk of a land? It almost felt like a curse.

Suddenly, something grabbed her and she was half included to think it was the wind finally hauling her away with her tent at first. Her feet left the ground and something blocked the spray of mud long enough for her to look up. It was the broad man who had snatched her up like she was no more than a sack of grain. "My scythe!" She had to get her weapon but it was far too late. Her words were sucked away by the wind, her strange rescuer opened a leather door and flopped her inside.

Talia landed with an unceremonious thud on her feet, stumbling against the wall along side something furry. Her hands shot our to steady her, leaving a muddy mark on the wall along with a Sandy butt print to match. Without a word, he lumbered into what was obviously a cooking area.

Through mud caked lashes she watched with her golden eyes as his troupe of animals followed him and it was no wonder why. He'd tamed them all with treats, though she noticed most had scars or limps. One a missing eye. She coughed out some sand and raked her tongue over her teeth, trying to get rid of the grit which had also settled into the gashes across her palm.

His bright eyes settled on her and he lurched forward snagging up her hand, his own nearly engulfing hers entirely, then he held up a cloth retrieved from the bucket. Despite the size of her fingers be had a surprisingly gentle touch, the only comfort for being grabbed that way. It sent her heart pounding and her instinct was pull away. Instead, she forced herself to stay put once she figured out he was trying to clean the grime out of the cuts, leaving her hands shaking. The cleaning stung a bit but she didn't utter a sound as she stared at him work.

Arames poured a sort of oil over her hand and then wrapped it up before gesturing for the other which was tucked protectively in her lap. After a moment hesitation, she let him have her undressed hand, still staying on edge. "You know the last person who grabbed me like you did wasn't so kind," she said, meeting his gaze, "Why are you?"

She knew better than expect any sort of answer and wasn't really looking for one. Her fingers twitched every now and then when he hit a tender spot under the callous but otherwise she was quiet, studying the animals around her. When he was done, she pulled her hand back quickly and rubbed her sand dusted cheek along her shirt with a sniffle before looking toward the window where the wind was howling. "Don't suppose you're letting me stay till the storm ends, huh?"

Oddly enough the girl still seemed to want to talk. It had been a long time since someone was this persistent and Arames stared at her long and hard. He didn't think that he was particularly kind. Whoever grabbed her last he didn't know and it wasn't quite important. Silently he continued to wipe at her hands. They would probably take a few days to heal, but he could make her some tea and give her something warm to eat. More than likely she hadn't eaten all that well out in the desert. She didn't know what there was to eat and what was safe.

Arames had barely finished bandaging her last hand and she was already suggesting he was going to make her leave. Calmly he met her gaze and set a hand on her shoulder and steered her toward a room with a little bed in it. The bed was one that he had as a guest room. He wasn't opposed to her staying in the house if she wanted. The girl just had to learn to leave the animals alone. They were here for safety and comfort only. There wasn't anything else that they would come here for and she didn't need to entice them into dangerous territory. An animal would go when it wanted to and he wasn't going to force it to do anything. Since she was shown where she could stay he returned to the kitchen to begin serving up a small bowl of desert grass cooked with some tender meat. Lizards made some excellent dinner. A big one could make a nice meal and several smaller ones would suffice when it came to a little stew like this.

With the steaming meal ready he took it to the girl and thrust it toward her. The motion was abrupt enough that the stew crawled up the sides of the bowl and nearly drizzled over the edge, but it all remained inside the bowl. Arames went and got a bowl for himself. If she was eating he might as well have a second helping of dinner for himself. He'd only had animals stay in his house and it was strange having a person here for a change.

In some ways it was difficult to feel comfortable even in his own little home. Often times his interaction with people was with those that accepted he was mute and they simply talked at him and didn't really expect much engagement. Those at the market when he was trading would quit pestering him when he answered with a nod, grunt, or gesture to his signs. She was different. This girl still sat there and talked to him, not at him. He didn't know her name and that was a bit frustrating too. Most people would tell him their names to start with and then he wouldn't have to wonder. To a certain extent she was a mystery and he was starting to get curious. What if he said something?

Looking up from his meal he gazed at her for a long time and then he opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Instead an odd sort of squeak and scratching sound came from the back of his throat. He had so rarely used his vocal cords that they sounded about as creaky as a rusted iron hinge. Clearing his throat he gave it another try in the language he knew she spoke. "Your name?"

Talia wiggled her fingers when he finished the second hand, her eyes catching on his for a moment waiting to see what he was going to do. A lot could be found in man's eyes, his movements, his thoughts, and sometimes his nature. When those bright orbs settled on her she met him back, not moving even when a large hand rested on her shoulder, spinning her toward a bedroom. There was a small, neatly made bed inside. She could only assume that meant he wasn't going to kick her out into the sand storm at least for the night. Carefully, she stepped inside gazing at the clean bed and then looking at her own dirty self. She didn't quite belong in such a tidy place at the moment, but the sand was drying quickly. Maybe she could brush most of it off.

She stripped off her outer layer, then the lighter second layer down to her last crop top, using the linen to wipe the drying mud on her face and arms. Most of it turned to dust, falling to the floor or raining to her shoulders from her short curls. She dusted off her shoulders where the same scar on her face continued down her collarbone and across the front of her arm. No sooner had she accomplished some semblance of clean, did Arames lumber toward her, thrusting a full bowl of something her hand. Whatever it was sloshed in the bowl and had chunks of light, flaky meat mixed with stringy greens. It wasn't anything like what they would have at home and it was absolutely delicious. Her fingers curled around the fork and she didn't hesitate to dig in, sucking down quick bites of her first real meal in two weeks. Why was he being so nice? What did he get out of helping her? It wasn't like he had made any violent moves toward, other than grabbing which was irritating at the least and a challenge at the worst.

Scooping up the dregs at the bottom of her bowl, Talia opened her mouth to slurp up the last bite when she paused. Arames' lips were twitching a bit like a fish out of water, opening and closing. She lowered her fork and gazed at him curious to see what he was going to do, then a strange croak left his throat. An attempt at talking? Was that a sound besides a grunt? He grumbled some and then opened his mouth again, this time managing two creaky words in an old dialect. Your name? Immediately, a grin lit to her tan face and she gazed him for a moment. Everyone thought he was mute, even his own people, but he wasn't at all.

She let the shining grin linger before dousing it to a playful smile and went to scrape at the bottom of her bowl again. "Talia," she said simply. Taking her last bite, she sat the bowl to the side and looked up to him. "What is your name?" Sure, she already knew it but she wanted to hear him say it if would. Nodding in approval, she rested her hands over the table. "Well, Arames, do you always take in the wayward souls you find?"

Her name was odd. Arames nodded and he was pleased enough with her answer. All he asked for was her name and that was all she gave. There weren't any great exclamations or other bits of information he didn't need to know about and didn't care about. There were too many people that were all too willing to give away information about themselves. All they wanted was someone to listen. There was a Chip girl that used to come sit in his smithy and talk all day long. She had been one of the most frustrating and irritating people. The only thing she talked about was herself, her thoughts, her family, her desires, and sometimes her desires for men. That felt odd, but she seemed to think that it was alright since he 'couldn't' speak.

It seemed that Talia was going to return his question and Arames shrugged and then gave his name. He only told her his name because she asked and he'd spoke first. Now they had a fair exchange and he didn't plan on saying anything else. Instead the girl wanted to know more and she seemed to insinuate that helping those who were wayward was his thing. How she had figured that out so quickly he didn't know.

At first he glowered at her and then he shrugged his shoulders. Who did she think she was anyway? Going around and making an assumption like that. Maybe she was right, but it was insane. Just one time that he let her in his house because she wouldn't have fared well in a storm and she'd already gotten herself injured and she was obviously hungry. What else was he supposed to do? Just the pure audacity of her to assume something like that. With a grunt he stood up and took her bowl from her. Bringing it back to her filled to the brim again he watched her silently, but not without some sort of irritation. Arames really didn't like people knowing much about him and she'd already figured out more than most.

That night he took himself to his own bedroom. Arames didn't usually close the flap to his room, but he did this time. She was in his house and she was obviously one of those that watched others. Perhaps a little too smart for her own good. Pulling his shirt off, Arames set it off to the side and then he stripped his pants off too. It was too hot in the desert for him to be wearing anything when he went to bed. He did have a blanket for modesty sake, but it was as much for comfort as anything else. In the wee hours of the morning it would get plenty chilly.

Whatever he thought, it must have been some wild or insulting a combination of the two because it earned her a dirty look from him. Oh well. It wasn't like she wasn't making a hard effort to be nice even after he'd grabbed her. Rolling her eyes, she shrugged back at him and chuckled. He wouldn't be feeding her not once but twice if it found her truly worthy of the glowering look she'd gotten.

The second bowl sloshed toward her and she plucked up her fork, digging in to the last drop once more as they sat along with the silence. "I don't know what it was but it was good," she grinned up at him, "You're not such a bad cook."

Her compliment was greeted by a stare, shrug and silence before making it clear it was time for bed as he stalked of to another room. She shook her head at him and then replaced her bowl in a small wash bin so she could retreat to the offered room in the other end of the hut.

The room was nice, and the bed cozy despite the fact it was hot even with wind howling. She closed the flap and stripped out of the rest of her clothes, sprawling out on the bed with a loud sigh of satisfaction. It had been weeks since she had slept in a real bed. Crashed out on top of the blankets her head dropped back and she began to snore almost immediately.

The next morning she woke feeling better than she had in a good long while. Her belly was full and her back felt better from sleeping on an actual bed. Already the heat of the day felt like it was sinking in the sun wasn't even up yet. She took a moment to stretch and then lifted off the bed to stretch a little bit more before grabbing her lightest layer shirt. The pair of her pants on and the lightest crop top, she inspected the dirt on the floor and frowned. She was in debt to the man. Something that didn't settle well

Pushing inside the flap to the tiny bedroom she made her way into the main room and saw that he wasn't up yet but his animals stirred slightly when she entered. The Falcon ruffled its feathers while the strange long legged Beast with crippled legs sniffed at the air. Despite their discomfort she search the room stepping over tails and Claws and Paws until she found a small broom made of reeds. It didn't take long to sweep out the Dust created by her mess last night and then clean out the bowl she had to use from the night before.

If she was honest, there wasn't much to the place besides the animals. It was functional but other than that seem to be devoid of character. It made her curiosity about the man grow and she decided there wasn't much she can learn from the kitchen or the living room so she wandered outside to see what had become of the storm.

Sure enough, her entire Camp was gone coconut cups included and those have been hard earned. Not to mention she had to go dig out her scythe from whatever pile of sand it had been buried under. Grumbling under her breath she stopped over to the half wall shop with the broom and began sweeping it out. She found tons of tools scattered here and there. Hammers and chisels in the like, but found no trace of her prized weapon just yet. Instead she found plaques with all sorts of writing there and what she could only assume or prices considering only one of them was in a language that she could read and it wasn't a good thing.

About the time setting the price menu on a workbench she heard shuffling at the door and her golden eyes shot up to see the familiar face of Arames. she may not have had her but a knife to be just as deadly when you knew how to use it. Giving him a hard look, her heart pounded as she asked him a question. "Do really make weapons for them?"

Arames knew it was going to be a long day ahead. He was going to have to clean up the house and his smithy. More than likely the animals would help themselves outside and he wouldn't mind that so much. Slowly getting up from his bed he pushed the covers back and pulled his pants on first. With all the work ahead he didn't plan on wearing his shirt today. He would be making sure he got the fire started again and then he could begin working. After he'd been gone for several weeks there was likely going to be some work for him to do here. Someone would be needing a repair, replacement, or something else. There was never any telling what others would need, except his friend. The man didn't keep track of his daggers very well. Arames suspected it was his agreed that was always borrowing them, or adopting them.

He wasn't going to bother waking the girl yet. She was going to probably need a little extra sleep. Instead, when he stepped out of his room he saw that the main room of his house was a little neater than it had been last night and then he stepped into the kitchen and it was clean too. Since that was all done he figured he may as well get started with cleaning the smithy. Pushing the flap open he stepped aside to let the herd of animals pile out the door. One of the last ones to waddle out the door was the great falcon and then it took itself to the area just outside the smithy and took flight. Most of the other animals simply milled about as they stretched their legs, wings and whatever other appendage required a bit of stretching before starting their day in the wild desert.

Stepping out after the animals, Arames was greeted with a stranger discovery yet. The smithy was nearly picked up too, but there was something about the look on the girl's face. She was obviously very upset about his trade and he didn't know why. It wasn't wrong to engage in trade in the outside and especially not at the port. Arames glanced at one of the various signs that she pointed to and he shrugged. Why should it matter?

He was going to play dumb when she very well knew he wasn't? Her brow furrowed angrily and she pointed to the sign where to Dymekt tribe dialect was clearly written. "You make weapons for them. You're not dumb, but I'm going to tell you exactly what that means. It means you probably made the weapon that kills my people. It probably killed all of the cyrn and my father too." She gripped at her knife and bit at her lip, knowing she should kill him where he stood. But she was indebted to him. It made her sick. Instead, she made a leap over the half wall, pommel horsing over with ease and landed on the other side. "You are kind to me but don't care if you kill others."

The animals that had already scattered except for the little desert gazelle. Skittering to the side the little gazelle went back into the house when the woman started to get that dangerous tone in her voice. Arames stared at the woman and he shrugged. "Your people don't have an alliance with mine." It wasn't about killing others. He could make the weapons. The weapons were not evil, but the intent of those that used them could make them into instruments of evil. If she sold something that would kill his people she wouldn't care unless they were her allies. That was the way of it. "I sell to whoever buys. If your people buy from me then one of the Dymekt could say the same thing."

She shook her head in absolute disgust, as the animals scattered. In a way she felt bad for the animals, it seemed to be the only thing he really cared about. "Maybe you don't care about people, but what you make kills your precious animals too. Slew them all as hatchlings in their nest." She spat into the sand, as her eyes met his with a ferocity. "I don't care about alliances and wars, but I do care about my people and the land. That falcon is the only male left. The only one." She swallowed hard, and shook her head angrily, hoping he both would and wouldn't grab her again.

Setting his jaw he cast her a sour expression and then turned away from her wordlessly. He didn't need her to be starting a fight or anything stupid here. All he wanted to was to do his job and just be left alone. He had his animals and now she was going to try and lay the blame of her own tribal issues on him. It wasn't as though the Dymekt couldn't buy weapons from someone else. As for the falcon it would go where it would please. He had released it to go where it pleased and it stayed here because it was safe here.

"Such a hypocrite," she seethed, "You should have let me die. Would have been easier for you." With that, she stomped off toward his house and pulled out the rest of her clothes from the small bed room, leaving it as if she had never been there and tucked her knife to her belt. She was going home with that bird even if it took a year. Stalking past him she made her way to the oasis. She had lost her water skin which would need to replace. This time she would make her shelter from river rocks and seal it shut. Nothing ever came without a price and she had thought a kindness was possible. The world just didn't work like that.

Obviously the girl was mad and there wasn't anything he could do to change that. Arames let her stomp past and go into the house to get her things. Whatever it was that struck her fancy he would let her do. If she wanted to build another little reed house she could do that. Once she was gone he watched her start to make her way to the bit of the river that was above ground and start to collect rocks and build again. She would find out that stone could be tricky to build with. There was plenty of evidence in the way her wall was heavily slanted as she built it. Chances were if she got it tall enough it would fall over, but if she was going to act like that then he was going to let her work on the little hut for herself.

What she had told him made a little more sense of why she was following. From what she'd told him her people relied on these birds for something and he had the last male living in the desert. He wasn't keeping it here, but now it made sense why the bird had stayed with him. Animals had good instinct and it would know that it was not safe to go back to the mountains. It learned to trust him because he had not hurt it. Her people would be distasteful to the bird. Arames knew that animals had a keen instinct that developed from the time they were born. While the girl worked on her leaning stone hut he scooped the rest of the sand out of his smithy and then he got the flame going. Wherever the girl's sword had gone he didn't know, but she'd need one when he took her home.

Arames could feel the heat of the fire from his smithy making the day even hotter. He was always grimy with this work. With the desert heat he was already sweating, but then adding the heat of the fire made it even worse. The breeze that kicked up blew dust into the smithy and it stuck to his pants and bare back. He had an apron on to keep from having little sparks and molten chunks of metal from burning his chest and abs. That was quite painful and he'd discovered that a few years ago.

As he'd assumed there were already several Chippequoti that had work for him to do by the time he had the fire stoked and some metal ready to begin forging. His friend had come by and wanted more knives. Then there was a woman needing another silver reed. Aside from that there were various needs ranging from chains to buckets. There was more than enough to keep him busy for a few days. However, he did feel badly for the girl and her situation. It was too bad that the tribe from her area that had been some of his best customers were using the weapons for ill reason. Arames didn't like that they were slaughtering the little falcons and killing her people. He would simply have to refuse them service when they came back to him. It also explained why they were always losing their weapons, or needing them sharpened again. They didn't say why and he didn't ask, but they had paid quite well.

By the end of the week Arames was back to restocking his usual selection of weapons and tools to take with him to the port. There was plenty of time to make more tools and dull weapons as well as a replacement for his own sword. Arames didn't typically like to use weapons, but he carried one to be safe. The girl had been trying to befriend the falcon and he let her be. He trusted the falcon's instinct to stay away from danger. It would return to the desert as it always had.

***********

Weeks passed and Arames still didn't see that the girl had recovered her sword. He was very near travelling to the port again and he made a sketch of what her sword had looked like and then he made a cast for it. She would need a sturdy weapon. Not a sword made of two pieces. She would receive his finest workmanship. If she was going to protect what was left of the hatchlings he would see to it that she had a weapon that would withstand what he typically sold. Arames didn't usually sell the same kind of sword to outsiders as he would give to his own people. It was an art and it took far too much time and most could not afford it.

It took 3 days to finish the sword and another 3 to sharpen it perfectly and put the detail to it. Arames liked the filigree part much better than the rest. He laced the hilt of the sword in a gold filigree and then he added gems and precious stones to it. A real weapon worthy of a warrior should be beautiful. Making one so small was difficult and then he spent 2 more days on the etching that would go into the blade. Her enemy would know the blade when they saw it and it would mark her a great warrior. Every warrior had a blade that belonged to them and their enemy should come to know the blade and thereby recognize their foe. With the time that it took him to finish the blade Arames was sure that he could have already been well on his way across the desert and possibly into the forest again. However, she needed something and he'd finished his basic blade. He never carried a blade like a warrior because he was not one and he didn't want anyone to ask for one.

Arames waited until she was out trying to tempt the falcon again and he took the sword to her little stone hut, which was improved in structure as compared to her first attempt. Laying the sword next to her bed in it's equally decorative sheath he started back out of her hut. He hoped she didn't see him put it there. Glancing around he didn't see anyone immediately and then he darted back to his smithy.

Talia stayed away from the blacksmith for the time being, avoiding him entirely if she could. She still owed him for his food and board, and she intended on repaying it, but it certainly didn't mean that she had to go anywhere near him. In part, she knew he had no control over what people did with what he sold. Once he sold the weapons, he had no control over what was done with them, and probably had no idea where they went. Yet in some ways she felt like she had slept in the bed of an enemy. Instead of going anywhere near him, he would wake to find a snake hanging from his doorstep in the afternoon when he came back from his shop or a pile of coconuts. Those seemed to be decent enough. Anything that didn't involve going near him.

The first attempt at her rock house was a bit of a failure in that the stones were staggered properly but the wall seemed to lean anyways. She wasn't exactly an architect and she knew it, particularly when the first wall fell and she had to start all over again with a fair amount of cursing to go with it. In the end, she kicked a few of the flat rocks around wishing more than anything she could find something work out the aggression on besides building things. There just wasn't any patience for it at the moment.

Within the next day or so she had a suitable shelter made, a mat woven and a little bucket made of coconut shell. The two things she hadn't found were her water skin and her scythe. However, her sweep of the sands had rendered two strange coins, a collection of odd bones, a pile of skat, and the most useful thing a silver pipe reed. It was the same kind used by Arames to pull the fresh water from the sands and it was the only thing she kept. The coins she traded for a new waterskin in the village. Most of the others gave her harsher looks, which she ignored until a small child wandered by and gave her particularly nasty look. Talia grinned a daring smile and stick her tongue out at him smartly before going on her way.

It was disappointing to fail in finding her scythe, even after scouring the smithy for it. It had been made of the goddess' ore and passed down in her family for generations. An heirloom. Still, Talia couldn't let the losses deter her. It didn't take long for her to fashion a sling shot of woven palm silk and take a few practice shots with it. The stones she chose were smooth and evenly balanced to ensure her aim was the best it could be. After a few knocked over coconut shells proved to be a good show, she was satisfied and went hunting in the late afternoon where more of the scaly critters of the desert might be out for water before slinking off to shelter.

Talia brought back a long-tailed lizard some afternoons which she always split between herself and the bird. It still hissed at her approach, giving her sharp looks with every tilt of his head. She had hope that every day she came closer with food, he might tolerate her though. He didn't grow up like he was supposed to, around the mountains and with the people who guarded the nests from outsiders. In a way, he was much like the man who thought he owned it. He didn't know people and he didn't care. Talia studied the bird for a long time at a distance before getting closer to toss her treat into the air, then retreating back to her spot in the sand. This was something that was going to require patience and it was maddening sometimes.

At night, she sat outside her hut beside the dying firelight to practice her forms. The movements had been passed down through her people far before anything else that could be recalled. Even before Kulytra who was a master at all of the known arts. Taking her stance with feet at shoulder width apart, she bent her knees and moved through each position with confident precision. Some of them required her scythe but otherwise, she skipped over those and went through the forms involving only hand to hand defense. When each phase was completed, she sat down at her warm fire pit and took up her cup of water for a sip of cool water. "Kulytra, did you have to make it him?" The red star was gleaming down her, bright and silent as usual. Sighing, she tipped the coconut cup to her lips and swallowed down the last of her water for the day, then retreated to her shelter.

Crawling into her mat, she started to roll over her hand met something hard and cold. What in the Wilds was that? Frowning, Talia grabbed the object as she scuttled out of her shelter. The moonlight and orange glow from the dying fire revealed the strange discovery to be a scabbard. Not just any scabbard. The one had a surprising amount of detail set into the metal with beautiful, fine design work only the best of warriors could have in her trib. Her tan fingers swept over the smooth craftsmanship to the hilt that held gems like she had never seen. In a quick motion, she gripped the handle and pulled the blade free to examine it in the moonlight. Now, this was a weapon of beauty. There was no doubt of where it had come from but her mind swapped from marveling at the weapon to why it had been made. What as the purpose of giving her something like that? Wiping at her brow, her eyes flicked to the hut where Arames had already doused his lights for the night. What did she owe the man?


The next morning Talia woke early and wandered over to the smithy, taking the sword with her, and leaned against the wall. Arames was already in his workshop gathering tools into his pack along with some of the wares he had been working on over the last week. He was leaving? That could prove useful if he left and the bird stayed in the desert, but from what she had seen it had been with him in the forest all the way to the desert. If it followed him everywhere, then she didn't need the falcon persay. She just needed him.

"You're leaving," she said. He turned and seemed surprised to see her standing there as she stepped forward, her hand resting casually on the blade. "Where you go, I follow. That's just the way of it...I owe you, but I have an offer for you. If you're willing to hear me out."

Arames was busy getting himself ready to go again. The desert gazelle limped along behind him and stared at him with it's big dark eyes and ears laid back. It didn't like to see him go again. That meant that it would have to stay with the louder man and it liked the quiet better. Sliding a few of his tools into the bag Arames checked to be sure he had a few extra silver reeds and he had a dish for the bird when it was time to drink.

Before he left he needed to have his sword and Arames grabbed the plain blade and shoved it into its sheath. No sooner had he got himself prepared to leave and the girl was trying to make some sort of deal. He couldn't stop her from talking. Meeting her gaze for a moment he shrugged. Whatever she wanted to say wouldn't likely affect him. Most people seemed to think that they should have some kind of effect on him. If they were not part of his life and they were like this girl, going to be heading home then he could hear what she wanted to say, but she wasn't going to make any difference. Like everyone else, she wanted to make her little mark, but it wasn't necessarily going to make a difference.

Talia raised a brow as she got his simple little shrug when he was fully capable of answering her. If he didn't have the fortitude to tell her to shut up, then she was going to put her offer out there. "You're going out to sell your wares and then you'll come back to make more before going out again. But what if I could get you metal like you've never seen before? It would never break, never need sharpening really, it's easy to forge and once it's quenched it is the strongest and rarest metal. All you would have to do is extend your trip and come to my home.It's the least I can do to repay this." Her hand tapped over the weapon. "And if the bird followed it would give him a chance to breed or not..it's free to go but there is still a chance for more hatchlings."

Staring at her for a long moment Arames shrugged his shoulders again and simply started to walk. He would take some time to think about it. The metal was interesting, but he wasn't sure it would do him much good if he didn't know how to work with it, where to mine it, or if it was even real. The one part that was more interesting was to get the bird where it could mate and then there would be more hatchlings. He did like the bird and he didn't want to see them all die out. However, he didn't really trust her either. All she wanted since she met him was the bird and it was what she had spent her time trying to tempt down out of its various perches all the time. How did he know she wouldn't just capture it and then keep it in the mountains always without ever allowing it to leave again? Finally, it was settled in his mind, he was going to continue with business as usual and allow the bird its freedom. He wasn't going to be putting it at any additional risk because of empty promises from a stranger that could possibly lead to capturing the bird.

She had half a mind to smack him when he shrugged those broad shoulders and started walking away. Stubborn ass. That was a good deal. Gritting her teeth and curled her fists before letting out a long breath and unclenching them again. What was it her mother always told her? Use her words. She could do this. Rolling her eyes, she started after him all the way past him to stand in front of him to spin on her toes. Walking backwards, she met his eyes stared at him just like he did her. Maybe he just needed to see what he could make with it. A sample? She whipped out her knife and flicked the pearlescent blade over her fingers to offer him the pommel. "See look. Try it out. You cant bend it and you can't break it. My people can show you."

Arames could feel the girls anger and he found it amusing in a way. People got so upset when they thought they were getting a deal out of something and he simply didn't care if she was offering him the entire mountain she lived on. Instead of leaving him alone, or screaming the girl kept right on insisting and she walked backward in front of him. Momentarily he wondered if he walked too fast if she'd move out of his way, or if he'd just walk into her, knock her over and keep walking. It was an interesting thought. Somewhere in the middle of her little talk she held out a knife to him and Arames took it from her hand without a single word. Sliding his pack down one arm he dropped the little knife in with all his tools. There was more than one way to test her little theory. It would be in his pack of dull tools and weapons. There was no sense in sharpening them until someone wanted to buy them. This little dagger would have plenty of chance to be dulled and then he would test it further to see if it was anything like she said after he got to the market.

What in the Wilds was wrong with him? He had simply taken her knife and dropped it in his bag without a word. Rolling her eyes, she stopped in her tracks and caused him to slam into her, which inevitably caused her to bounce hard of his chest into the sand. Cursing, she sprang back to her feet and glared at him. "Was that a yes? A no? A payment for the scythe?" He was absolutely maddening sometimes and she had half a mind to curse his name with Kulytra, but even that was taking things too far. Her deal was good and even if he didn't think so, she was following him and the bird anyways. "Why did you give me this?" she asked about the weapon again. He didn't understand what giving it meant and she had to repay him. She had to do it.

The girl stopped in front of him and Arames ran into her. It was a chance to see what would happen. It wasn't surprising when the she fell into the sand and he simply straddled her and kept on walking. She was still talking though. Arames glanced at her as he walked past and she seemed to want to know what he thought of the dagger. When he decided he would let her know. Then she asked him about the sword and Arames simply looked at it and shrugged. Whatever gave her the idea he left it for her he didn't know. It wasn't as though she'd seen any other work of his that looked like that.

"Shrug..shrug...shrug...you like people to think that's all you can do to get peace, or some sick satisfaction. Frankly, I'm not sure which, but you're not going to be rid of me that easy," she snapped. Sticking out her tongue as his retreating back, Talia took off running to her hut where her water skin and reed were waiting. Snatching them up quickly, she checked to see if she had at least a little water in there before running toward him again. He was a little ahead, but he didn't care. His shadow was short along the desert sands but the bird's was right along with it. She would follow him wherever she had to and face whatever she needed to pay her debt and bring the bird home.

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

It was more than troublesome traveling with the girl. Arames found himself walking a little slower many days and he stopped in the desert a few more times than he normally would have because she wasn't able to move at the same pace he did in the heat. When the falcon got thirsty it would swoop down and wait for Arames to pour some of his water into a pan for it. The bird drank and then it would preen itself. No matter what Arames felt, the bird always did it at the end of a drink and it would squawk loudly at him if it looked like he was going to leave it. This falcon liked having a guardian when it was preening itself and it was especially touchy because of the woman that had continued to follow them.

When they were finally out of the desert Arames jogged most of the steppe lands. He never liked to waste time in them. In a way he knew that the bird belonged just about anywhere, but the desert, but it wouldn't go home. Arames had even taken it to the place he had found it once and the bird still followed him home. There was no getting it to go back to where it belonged. The fact that the bird's kind was dying due to people slaughtering them made it more easy to understand and at the same time more urgent. Part of Arames wanted to bring a female back to the desert to make sure they were populating the birds again and letting them grow before they would expand their territory, but he also knew it wouldn't last long. There wasn't enough in the desert for many of these great falcons to survive.

Arames trudged through the forest without veering from his usual path. There was only one purpose to this sort of trip and he was going to get that purpose done and over with before he considered anything else. Even when they got close to the mountains Arames noticed that the girl wasn't going home. With a slightly exasperated sigh he kept right on walking. Why couldn't she just go home? It would be better for both of them if she did.

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

By the second day at the port Arames was almost irritated to no end. He didn't have to see that the girl was there, he could practically feel her presence. He knew when the Dymekt tribe was getting close because his falcon slunk into the small private room he had attached to the smithy here in the port. It was a basic and very small shack he lived in when he was here. The falcon's distaste was making sense now and Arames waited for the Dymekt men and women to arrive. They were painted like usual and they brought plenty of their weapons to be sharpened and started to point at the signs as if they were looking for theirs.

Arames shrugged when they spoke to him and he ignored them for the time. However, there was one man that wouldn't be ignored and he strode right into the smithy and grabbed Arames by the arm. Turning toward the man Arames simply stared at him and refused to say a word. So far as everyone here knew he was mute and he was going to keep it that way.

The man kept pointing toward the signs and cursing and telling him to put it back up. He wanted to know the price and he wanted to buy a new sword. Arames wasn't about to sell the weapons to the people that were slaughtering the birds and he knew it was true because the falcon had hissed and left just moments before the Dymekt were in view. It meant that the bird knew they were bad news. Before this Arames just assumed that the falcon didn't like how loud they were. Pulling his arm away from the man he shook his head and beckoned to the street. A murmur went through the group and one of them spat toward him in disgust. It wasn't the first time that this sort of thing had happened and Arames didn't expect that it would be the last.

After he was done for the night Arames moved his tools that remained into the little hut. Oddly the falcon had not come out of the shelter since the Dymekt had visited earlier in the day. Arames left the door open a crack for the bird and it waddled out before taking flight moving a distance off. That was more common for the bird and Arames was pleased with the day. Closing the small building and locking it up he started down the dark streets of the port. There was a nice little place he always like to stop to get food. An old woman ran an inn and she made a good meal that didn't cost too much.

Arames barely made it into the darkest part of the street and he was shoved off balance. There was a sharp pain that arched through his back and he stumbled unevenly forward. He had almost recovered and he was trying to take a firm stance when a deep thud sounded as something crashed into his right side and cracked his ribs. Losing his posture the blacksmith held his side instinctively and hunched slightly to try and capture his breath. A harsh set of hands grabbed the back of his neck while he was hunched over and pulled him to the ground. As soon as he hit the ground he felt what seemed to be dozens of feet kicking at him and many clubs hit him over and over. After a while he didn't have the energy to fight and his vision had faded a few times, but he knew the voices. It was the Dymekt. If they thought this was how to get a man to work for them they were wrong. He'd put his sign up like they said, but he'd make sure to sharpen their blades and weaken them at the same time. They wouldn't last any fight against an armed man. The Dymekt were slaughtering the falcons and they were cowards.

It took a while to get to his knees and Arames moved slowly. He knew he took a beating and it was one that would probably send him home early. He could sell a few things and maybe sharpen a few blades, but he couldn't stay here long because he wouldn't be able to do the work quick enough. Limping slowly toward the the light at the Inn's window he figured that he'd made it this far and he wasn't about to forego a good stew because the Dymekt decided to have fun.

The desert was hot and miserable as ever. Why Kulytra would have cursed a land to be perpetually dry and barren, she couldn't begin to guess. Whatever those tan, tall people had done to wreak such vengeance she didn't want to know either. This time, she was more prepared to make the trek however, armed with her silver reed and the beautiful weapon made by Arames. She followed his steps when it came to looking for water, no matter how far she lagged behind and hunted in the early morning or late afternoon for things to eat since she had no food. There were no hand outs expected from the blacksmith. Occasionally they would pass ugly green plants with spines and animals would congregate in the shade or the plant would bear a bright fruit she had seen the other desert dwellers eating. It was a luscious sort of fruit that was quite tasty. She would have used her knife to peel it but she was relegated to her spare throwing blade since Arames had taken her goddess ore knife.

Arames' company was lackluster at best and the falcon did little to improve their walk. Every now and then the bird would land beside them and crow for water. It still kept a harsh eye on her. That gaze combined with Arames' clearly annoyed expressions when she managed to catch up with him was more than enough to make her stay silent. She could tell when she didn't go into the mountains but followed him along at a much faster pace across the steppes and into the jungle that he didn't like it. Oh well. He should have taken her offer more seriously. She would follow him as far as she had to.

When they arrived in the port, Talia never felt more out of place. These people were busybodies and pushy with their wares with ships like she had never seen dodging here and there. Some approached her, talking in a language she didn't know, and she just shooed them away by pulling her sword slightly from it's sheath accompanied by a pointed look. You were approachable if you looked like you were willing to use it. They came to a small building which seemed to serve as Arames' hut and shop at the port. There was no spare bedroom here and she didn't expect to stay inside. No, she was already in debt and she didn't want anymore to this man. Instead, she took a post up on the roof, using the rainwater drain to climb onto the eave and plop onto the pitch to get a good view of the port. There were shops as far as the eye could see until they met the ocean. Now, that was a sight. The bluest water she had ever seen stretched glittering in the evening light out onto the horizon. People sailed on that and the idea of it was fascinating. What was beneath the water? Beyond that horizon?

The bell above the door in the shop rang, reminding her why she was here at the port. Sightseeing wasn't her goal. Her eyes darted down to the street where her stomach dropped to her toes. Dymekt. They were there in their war paints and gold pouches open, ready to buy more weapons. Immediately, she dropped to her stomach so they wouldn't see her and crept across the roof to block their view further. There were too many for her to take on alone and there wasn't any back here. No hope for help if she did get into a fight.

Only a minute passed before the Dymekt Thaumaturge along with his squad came marching out and spitting curses. Apparently, Arames wasn't feeling particularly cooperative today, having denied them someway by the sound of the muttering. Interesting. Talia smirked and watched until the tribesmen were far out into the port to notice her. She would have to be careful if they were here with a thaumaturge. He would boil your blood as soon as look at you and his men were blood bound to serve him. Once they were gone, she scurried from roof top to roof top headed toward the ocean. Not only would she go fishing but she could go to the shoreline like her father used to talk about.

The beach was warm and pleasant. Ocean waved lapped at her toes in a rhythmic cycle until she followed along the by far enough to reach rockier outcropping where tidepools offering some sort of easy to catch fare. The light began to fade as she rolled up her pants and waded into a large, foamy tide pool to wait patiently for a fish or two. Her first catch was not but the size of a minnow, but it was still food, so she snipped the head off to eat it raw. The next thing she caught was a spider-like animal with mean looking pinchers. It almost looked like a tiny bug-fish found in the mud at the mountains and it would probably be edible if it was cooked. Her last catch was a horrible creature. The thing had a gelatinous body and she was sure that some of it's guts oozed out when she grabbed it the first time. A jet of inky black gunk shot out at her, catching her by surprise. "Uhg!" It wriggled out of her hand before making for a rock to hide in. "Oh no you don't!" Driving for the thing, she pulled her outer shirt from her head and used it like a net, diving into the water to wrestle the creature along with it's gangly arms. It fought her back as she forced it into her shirt in triumph. "Aha!" Now, all she had to do is see if Arames had his forge going. Maybe she could set the thing on the roof top and smoke it over his chimney.

With her hard-shelled animal along with her squishy creature stashed away in her shirt as s dripping bundle over her shoulder, Talia used the roof tops to make her way back to the shop. When she arrived, the forge was cold, save for a few embers, and Arames wasn't there. The bird was in the living space hissing at her, so she set herself up in the work area. The best way she found to cook the crab-creature was to stick him directly on the hot coals of the fire while the other critter was skewered on the fire poker right next to the heat to roast.

As her food cooked, Talia tried to scrub down her second and third layer shirt, not intending to stay in the shop for longer than necessary so long as the bird was safe. A small bucket sat by the door with water that she used to try rubbing the ink stain out without much luck. She was so engrossed in her work that she jumped when the shop door opened to reveal none other than Arames.

The man looked terrible. His back hunched unnaturally as held at his ribs and dark bruises covered his arms along with a nice goose egg rounding on his head. "What in the Wilds happened?" Of course, she didn't really have to ask. She had seen how the Dymekt left in such disgust and they didn't take to being denied well at all. Talia dropped her shirt and shook her head as he walked past her, showing a puncture wound just above where she reckoned his kidney was. "The Dymekt don't take kindly to the word no...or no words at all." Whether or not he answered, she didn't care. Instead, she walked over to his pack and began rummaging around. He kept bandages in there, but he also needed something more. Quickly, she set the metal water bucket close to the fire, then stoked the embers slightly to warm it up. Salt water would at least help. Holding up his own bandage, she tilted her head at him. "Two ways this can happen. You can let me help or not. I'm not exactly a nurse but I can help." After all, she owed the man and this would put them a little more square.

By the time Arames reached the Inn he was almost ready to collapse, but he was still determined to have some food. At least he had his money. Plopping a few coins on the counter he waited for the woman to bring him the night's meal. They had a roast of sorts and plenty of gravy with it. Arames ate everything on the plate and then used the bread to soak up what remained of the gravy. He had thought that somehow he would feel better after he had the food, but he didn't feel better at all. Instead he felt worse.

Sliding off the bench like a fat whale he waddled toward the door. It felt like his ribs were going to pop right off his chest and his stomach being full made it feel like even more pressure had built up. This time Arames took the longer route through the city because he didn't want to get attacked again. However, the walk felt like it was taking forever. Each step was a special sort of agony. The closer he got to the smithy the slower time seemed to move. Arames held onto his side with one hand and he tried to inch his fingers over the would to feel how bad it was. He hadn't quite noticed it was there until he was walking home and he felt the blood. If there was one thing that could make his heart beat faster and his breathing get labored it was the idea of blood. In general he didn't like it and if he was bleeding it was even worse. He would just have to wait till he got back to the smithy before he really checked it out.

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

Arames pushed the door open to the little smithy house and he stumbled toward his bed. He just wanted to lay down and take it easy for a while. Tomorrow he would likely have someone beating on the door. Even if he got up early to work when he was at the port there was almost always someone that thought their particular situation was urgent. Often times they believed he wasn't up nearly in time. Arames usually got up before the sun came into the sky, but it simply wasn't good enough for a good number of folk. Instead of being able to rest he was practically assaulted by the woman with a little bucket of water and bandages. Silently he watched her as she made her way over to him and Arames moved his hand away from his side long enough to work at taking his shirt off. She would likely be more help than he would be for himself.

She took his silence to mean that he approved of the help considering he was trying to tug at shirt and didn't shove her away. He was moving in such a way that it looks like his ribs might be hurting as well as the puncture wound in his back. Shaking her head she batted away his hand and grab the edge of the shirt pulling it over him. It wasn't like she was particularly gentle with it but she managed to get the shirt off and start assessing what sort of damage the tribesmen along with the magic man had done. He was bruised pretty well but the puncture wound was probably the worst and the result of one of their Pike weapons. That would be the worst of it. "They'll come back, you know," she said dabbing up the blood, "What will you do then?"

When the girl pushed his hand away Arames almost let himself let out a breath of relief. Even if she was a little rough pulling the shirt off, it was easier for her to do it instead of him. The first little bit of contact from the cloth and salt water was enough that Arames drew a sharp breath. It hurt and he glanced at her. Of course they were coming back. "I work, but I make their swords will be weak. Tell your people." He wanted them to fear the people that protected the falcons.

"We both will," she replied, "You still have to come to the mountains to get your metal I owe you." She wasn't going to let him forget, but at the same time she was surprised to hear him talk like that. He would make the Dymekt weapons weak and that would help at least. She frowned as she kept dabbing at the puncture wound. "The Thaumaturge used his poisoned pike. This will take awhile to stop bleeding. You're lucky he didnt put more holes in you or you would bleed out. Lay back and I'll get it to stop." She prodded him a bit so he would lay back allowing pressure off the wound and lessening the flow some. Then she applies some pressure to encourage to clot. "They do this when they want you to live under their boot heels. They want to take what they like." In truth, she felt slightly bad for him. It had only been a few years since her own beating by them.

The girl was pushing on him to lay down and Arames fell back onto the bed, but it wasn't very comfortable. Every dab with the cloth stung and then she pressed hard into the wound. "Ugh...." Gritting his teeth he shut his eyes tight and waited for the surge of pain to pass. His ribs felt far too sore on that side for her to be pressing on his back like that. "I don't live under any boot heel." Arames grumbled and tried to shift to get more comfortable. "I check the knife tomorrow. See if it dull. Then I know if I go with you."

He was grumbling along with her, being a bit of a tender foot about his wounds in some ways. Rolling her eyes, she continued pressing and held firm, hoping it would end the bleeding. So he was testing her blade? So be it. "Well, then you might as well buy yourself a nice coat while you are here. The blade wont dull. Its made of goddess ore and its one of the reasons the Dymekt want my people. You wont find anything else like it in the world and its cold on that mountain." She lifted the bandage and noted that there was a little less bleeding. It just needed to be wrapped up now. As she started passing the gauze under his stomach and back around, she sighed. "Try not to get beaten up when they come back. The falcon will miss you."

With a little tugging from the girl Arames had to sit up. He made the mistake of looking at her hand as she drew it away from his side and back. In her hand was a cloth that had soaked up a good portion of his blood. Glancing at his own hand that had been holding his side he saw the blood there too. Arames was only partially aware of the girl wrapping his side with the bandage. Swaying where he sat he put one hand behind himself to try and stay steady, but he couldn't help it.

Dizziness swept over him and he started to crumple back into the bed. With a thud his head hit the wall and he lay half sitting up slumped against the wall. Even when he had dreams he was haunted by the blood. Arames couldn't stand seeing his own blood like that. Something inside of him panicked when he saw blood like that and especially if it was his blood. The inevitable came the next morning. There was someone beating on the door calling for him to get up and help them. Arames sat up in the bed and he saw the bloody cloth draped over the bucket. Swallowing hard he tried not to look at it. Resting his one hand over the bandage he felt the dried blood catch on the delicate fibers of the bandage. Some of the blood cracked and he knew it would be crumbling off. The thought of having to wash his hand and see the blood was a little much at the moment and so he did his best to ignore it.

Grabbing his shirt he saw the stain on it and Arames started choking before he got to the door. Tossing the shirt to the side he stumbled toward the door and swung it open to see one of the Dymekt. They were here to observe their handy work and his temper flared. Arames stepped out into the smithy with the man and started to heat up the fire. When the Dymekt slid half the coin that Arames would usually ask for the blacksmith narrowed his eyes and slowly took hold of his pincers and turned around. Sliding the coins toward himself he picked one of them up and observed it for a moment before he flung it into the Dymekt's face and took a wild sweep with the pincers toward the man's head. It made contact the despite the fact that it was a bit low. The man ducked and his attempt to miss getting hit had only managed to earn him a solid hit to the head.

When the man fell to the ground Arames slowly walked around the edge of the counter to see the man. The sight of all the blood made him start to wretch and he puked on the body. There was blood already soaking in the ground and Arames eyes started to roll in the back of his head. He'd never killed a person and this was horrifying, not to mention too much blood.

Talia watched as Arames swayed. Was he really dizzy? He hadn't lost that much blood. No sooner had he tried to stand up did he crumble onto the bed like a sack of potatoes, his limbs flopping over to the side and dragging the floor.

"The bigger they are..." Talia sighed shaking her her head. Arames head was stuck an awkward wedge angle between the wall and we're head falling on the bed. A few pulls on his shoulder proved that he was far too heavy to move too. Were is Bones full of rocks or something? She never come across someone so heavy in her life. He was decidedly stuck in the position he collapsed in so she grabbed a pillow and stuffed it underneath his neck. Maybe he wouldn't wake up with such a crick in it later in. Leaving him to sleep, she washed her hands and returned to her strange meal of sea creatures, curious to see what the tentacled monstrosity tasted like.

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

The next morning Talia jolted up from her spot on the roof at the sound of the shop door being opened roughly, the wood slamming back against the wall. The sun was hardly up and there were customers? Surely not. She sat up and rolled over to peep over the eave with her sword in hand to find the Dymekt were back as promised, bright and early. Automatically her grip tightened over her weapon. Maybe Arames would do as he promised too. He could very well give her up for a reward.

A moment or two passes and suddenly screaming erupted from the shop below followed by a heavy thud. Arames! Her muscles sprang out with well set instinct and she slid off the roof gripping the edge. Swinging down, she burst through the open doorway feet first and her her heels met the back of one man and catching him entirely off guard. He launched forward from the blow, tripping over Arames' prone form and smacking his head into the anvil.

The sudden attack caused the remaining four to scatter away from Chip in surprise before rounding on her. What had he done? Had they attacked him? From the looks or things, Arames had attacked them instead. It didnt matter of course. "Well, come on then!" She hissed, taking her stance. This was far too late to deal with or hide from and now one was yelling at her before he launched forward. "Rezaai!"

Talia unsheathed her blade and their two weapons connected with a loud clang. Growling, she forced him back, kicking him in the chest before blocking the next coming from the right. A pike grazed at her side, as the third came in for a stab. Dodging to the side, she made two quick strikes, one across the first man's chest and then again over his belly. The sword proved to be wickedly sharp, and well balanced, gliding through the air and spilling the contents of the tribesmen stomach. She side stepped another thrown pike before turning to him with a vengeance, another smooth swipe ended him.

When the fight was over, Talia stood in the blood spattered shop grimacing at the sight of the bodies. She hated it, but they would have killed Arames and her as well. Especially her. The Chip stirred some and she turned to find him lurching again before passing out in his own vomit. " So much for getting help with this mess. What happened to playing along? Stupid. Why would you fight them here?!" Of course she was talking to no one at this point. He was silent awake or passed out. Rolling her eyes, she set about the grim task of getting rid of the bodies.

After locking the door, it took a few minutes to get the forge up to a temperature the bodies would burn at. She doubted the fire was hot enough to get rid of bones but that could be passed off as hilt material. A morbid thought but true.

As she placed the first body into the forge, opening the flue as far as it would go, Arames began to stir again. Her golden eyes settled on him and she shook her head at him. "You're shop is closed." Carefully, she came over and squatted next to him, her jaw tight. "Go into the bed room, clean up, and stay there. Don't come out until I say. It's better this way."

The sight of the blood made Arames feel light headed again. There was so much of it and he could hear clanging and fighting. He was determined to get up and do something. After all, his life might depend on it. Instead of getting up he saw a whole lot more blood and started to sway even though he'd barely started to try and get on his knees. Arames' eyes rolled into the back of his head again and he collapsed right over the same body he'd been on before.

When he woke up again it was to the girl squatting next to him. Her legs were terrible close and he started to turn beet red. She was wearing pants of sorts, but he could sure see the curve of her entire thigh. Arames tried to look anywhere, but that location. Silently he nodded and started to get up. He could feel one of her hands under his arm and he glanced at her again, but he turned red all over again. Half stumbling to his feet Arames made off for the little attached hut to the smithy as fast as he could. He couldn't believe how inappropriate that whole situation was. Inside the little hut he saw his bloodied shirt, started to gain some of senses and realized he smelled like vomit. This was bad. Bad business and he had no idea what, or how this happened. He remembered getting angry, probably the angriest he'd been in his life when the Dymekt came back and wanted to pay half the price for the work.

A little more thought and he realized that he had indeed smashed the one's head in. Were they so delicate? Granted it was probably a bit hard for a Chippequoti too. Were all of her people so delicate? It made him wonder a bit. He'd always thought that they would weigh more and be like the Chippequoti, but smaller. She was light and he wondered if that was normal, but this Dymekt he killed couldn't have had normal bones either. Maybe they were all sick and dying. Surely, it wasn't natural to have bones so light. These were the first two that he'd managed to make physical contact with outside of his people. Hit the Dymekt and carried the girl. Both of them sickly, but both from the mountains.

Grabbing his bucket and pouring a few oils into it Arames stripped down and took himself to the tub in the spare room. It was hardly more than a human sized trough that they would pour hot water in, but he could bathe in it without making too much of a mess. The water in his bucket sloshed as he swished the rag around to get it nice and wet before he started to wash off. When he was done Arames wandered out into the main room and pulled his spare clothes out of the bag. The first thing he put on was his pants and that was probably good. The girl was coming in and she looked like a bloody mess.

There wasn't anything left to puke, but he swayed on his feet and gagged a few times while pointing to the wash room. She really needed to clean up. He wasn't going to make it if she wandered around like that for long.

By the time she was cleaned up Arames had packed up his tools and a few other things. With all the tools and dull blades to sharpen when they were purchased he figured they were enough to have at least dulled the blade on her little dagger slightly. Pulling it out of his bag he pulled a piece of parchment from the shelf. Occasionally he would make out receipts for an expensive piece of merchandise if someone asked for it. The little blade sliced a corner off the parchment without a problem. Taking the blade out to the smithy he did his best to ignore the horrible stench. Just to see how amazing the blade really was, he ran the sharp edge along the anvil several times with a bit of force. It should be enough to dull the blade, but he went a step further and got it hot then hit the blade on the anvil. After it cooled he tested it on the parchment again.

The blade was still just as sharp! Arames scrambled back into the little hut and excitedly started to look around. As soon as she got out of the bathing room he was going to have to use his words and ask her where this metal was. He wanted it.

He didn't argue with her about getting out of the Forge and that was just as well. He was covered in blood, guts, and vomit and she was in no mood to be arguing with all the work to be done. Closing the door behind him, she turned back to the half torched body in the forge. It was boiling hot in here and stank like the wrong end of a nyte beast, but this was the most efficient way of getting rid of the Dymekt corpses without having to drag them through the streets to the harbor. That might have been an option if her reluctant companion could stomach the sight of blood.

What an idiot. Sure, he knew multiple languages it seemed and was intelligent... but intelligence and common sense were two different things. Whatever had set him off had lead to this mess when that hadn't been what was intended or what was necessary from what she could tell. Why had he lashed out with such force? He could hold his temper against insults if he had played mute for so long. Talia pondered as she stoked the forge fire, bringing the temperature even higher and allowing hot specks of ember to flare up. The crackling sound made her grimace and she turned away from the fire shaking her head. That was not a place she wanted her head to go or needed it to be at the moment.

It took all of the water and the vinegar available in the forge to swab up the blood left behind. At least the Dykmekt bodies were burning quickly. She had dumped the oil from the quench barrel over them to accelerate the burning process. Still, her efforts took them into the night, and she had to shoo away a few customers claiming to be working on a 'special project' when someone knocked on the door. No one would believe that the forge was broken given the amount of smoke pouring from the chimney. Sometime in the night, the last of the bones were small enough to shove into the ash tray and she called it good enough.

Without a word, she walked into the living quarters sopping of vinegar, blood and ashes. The man didn't even have the gall to look at her. Instead, he pointed to a small washroom wordlessly, so she gave him a shrug in return then went toward the room, snatching up what looked to be a fresh shirt on the top of his pack. Cleaning up would take a while.

When Talia emerged from the small bathing area wearing one of Arames' spare longer shirts she had taken out of his bag. The cloth part of her clothing was pretty much ruined with the stain of blood and innards, but she would have to let it soak a minute to get the stench of biles out from the bodies at least. Luckily the desert giant's shirt was nearly a gown on her and it was the least he could do considering the fact that her clothes were ruined because he was so brash. She ignored the man as she hauled the bucket of red water out of the door aim to pour it down the street drain to eliminate all traces of the ichor. With a good toss, she heaved the stinking liquid into the rainy night over the storm drain to wash away and then returned slapped the bucket down by the door before running a hand through her short hair. It was about that time she noticed Arames was staring and she didn't have time for that. "What are you looking at?" she grumbled, heading back to the bathing room.

The girl walked out in his extra shirt! Arames had forgotten to put it on and she took it. For the moment all his thoughts about asking her about her the metal left. Of all things her little brown bird legs were sticking out underneath the shirt and he could feel a rush of blood go to his face all over again. She was wearing his shirt and that seemed to be a bit bold of her. His eyes got wider when she asked what he was looking at and he shrugged before turning around. He really didn't need to be staring at her legs.

Another shrug. Of course it was another shrug. She shot his back a harsher look of irritation and shook her head before looking around the room, trying to gather her thoughts. "As soon as I can get my clothes clean enough, we need to leave," she informed him, "You killed the Thaumaturge....the magic man...and where there is one there are always more to come looking. You forge is clean, but any others will know where that group came this morning."

Arames kept his nose to the wall. She was just going to wander around in his shirt with the neck falling off one shoulder and her legs showing off. It was such a risque sort of thing to do. He didn't know what to say and he knew he'd kind of made a mistake. He really didn't think that they had such soft skulls. Since there was nothing else to say he simply nodded and stared at the wall.

Rolling her eyes, she marched into the bathing area. "Pack up and get ready." Those were her only orders and he'd better follow them or she had half a mind to throttle him herself with all of those shrugs and nods. He really had no concept of what he did or had just made her do it seemed. Maybe he really did care about people and that was just fine with him. But if that were the case, why help her in the desert? Not to mention, it was clear the strike to the magic man's head was done with a fair amount of anger. That much she understood. Glancing at her own hands, she shoved the image of shatter skull and brain out of her mind and felt tired as she leaned over the extra bucket where her clothes were and began to scrub them. The effort turned the water a lurid shade of sick pink and then to red again. At least the smell was mostly gone thanks to whatever oil Arames had laying around. When she was done, she rang them out and gave it a few minutes to dry before pulling them on. It was raining and they were about to have a very wet trek inland. Grabbing up Arames' shirt she emerged from the bathing room and tossed the clothing at him. "It's time to go. Are you ready?"

His was ready, but he didn't really want to say anything right now. Arames just nodded again when she gave the order. Part of him felt a bit offended that she thought she could go around ordering him like that, but she had just saved his life when he made a rather stupid and angry move. Momentarily he wondered if he pushed her skull if it would move around like molten mettle. Then it made him feel sick again and he thought about the image in the smithy. With a shudder, he went over to his pack and stared at it with an empty gaze. Suddenly his shirt was tossed at him and he gulped before putting it on. The shirt was still warm and it felt so odd that she'd worn it only a few seconds before. There were little water spots on it from when she'd been washing, or maybe those were spots where her skin wasn't quite dry when she put the shirt on. Another rush of pink went to his cheeks and he simply nodded and shouldered his pack. They really needed to get out of here.

Talia checked her gear, making sure she had her sword along with her smaller knives which included one hidden in a pocket on the inside of her boot. This was why she always traveled light. When you ran into trouble, it was always easier to bug out without much need for thought beyond water and protection. It seemed Arames was signaling that he was ready by pulling on his pack and that only left one final thing to do. Turning to him, she met his eyes and gone was the smiling girl who enjoyed a playful joke. Instead, he faced a woman who had a determined, if not annoyed square to her jaw with eyes that commanded an air of confidence. She noticed he still had the knife in his hands and she took it from him, sliding it into her belt. He didn't know how to use it and would be better off with one of his hammers or pliers if it came to a fight. "Stay close, and stay silent. We speak to know one and stay in the shadows until we make it through the steppes to the highlands." It was going to be a miserable run in the wet and cold, but the movement would keep their blood flowing till they could find a dry place to rest. It was also going to be a bit slower considering his wounds from the day before. "Now, lets go."

This girl thought she was going to order him around and Arames kept quiet only long enough for them to step outside of the hut. He didn't need that kind of snotty behavior from her. Treating him like a kid. Even if his side hurt, he knew the road home well enough that he could make it if he had to. When they came to the edge of the smithy he started of toward home. She could go home to her people now and there were a few less Dymekt for her to fight.

As soon as he was out of the door, he started barreling off into the complete opposite direction they needed to be going in. Gritting her teeth, she hauled after him and grabbed his hand whether it was fighting terms or not. "Where are you going? You can't go that way. Once the Dymekt figure it out they will hunt you. It's not safe to take the same roads!" She'd had it with his shrugs and his nods and all the rest of it.

Feeling her hand on his Arames tore his hand away from hers viciously enough that it opened his side again. "If I run they can't catch me. The desert will take care of them."

"They're on cyrn. They'll wont just catch you, they'll swoop down and eviscerate you till there's nothing but bits all over your precious desert!" she hissed as she stumbled back. He wasn't listening to reason and being a prideful ass after she cleaned up his mess and his problem. No wonder people didn't like him. "Then they'll kill the only free falcon left while they're at it." Rain was pouring down on them both and she didn't care about that. What she did care about was the falcon and ultimately an idiot who was about to walk into more than he could handle.

It didn't make sense. Why would the Dymekt ride the falcons, but kill all that they could find. Arames rolled his eyes. "There is more than one path in the desert." He wasn't sure how they would find a single man wandering in the wilderness. Besides, if they were riding falcons the birds would become tired much faster and they could not last the desert heat without water.

"Are you really going to risk your life and the birds on that? Plus, we had a deal," she said, "You test my blade and I show you the metal it's made from. I didn't forget that and I sure has the Wilds won't forget what I just did for you in there. You think I liked that? Do you?" She was angry beyond measure at the stupidity he was displaying. If he was mad at her she could care less, the least he could do was not be dumb about it.

Arames stared at her for a long moment. "I didn't make a deal." He never consented, but he did take the knife and test it out. She took it back and he was plenty mad about her pushing to take the bird this entire time. Turning around he stomped right over to where she was and he glowered at her. "All you do after I saved your puny mush head is try to take the falcon back. The bird hates your kind for reason. I healed it and it chose to stay. I didn't make it and I tried to take it back to the mountains, but it stayed with me. The bird doesn't want to go back."

When he stomped over she didn't budge, meeting him nose to...chest...but she glared up just as angrily right back. "All I'm trying to do is save his kind from dying out. He's the only male that hasn't been killed by the Dykmet or turned into some killing monster by them that won't breed anymore. It would stay long enough to breed if you stayed that long," she spat back, "It wants you and I could have killed you a dozen times over or let you die this morning and taken the damned bird but I didn't. I'm to help you now, but all you do is find contempt when someone tries."

She already knew he wasn't a fighter and he doubted she would have anything to do with him after he got to the mountains. They could just as easily take the bird there and he wasn't about to subject the bird to that kind of problem. "You bring a bird to me and it will mate with him. I won't go there with you. It's too dangerous for the falcon."

"No, it has to be the mountains," she replied, shaking her head. Rainwater cascaded down from her hair and trickled down her temples to her cheeks. "Females won't nest anywhere else but there. Even if I brought you the bird, she'd never nest. I don't expect you to understand because you clearly couldn't care less about anyone besides yourself and your animals. Well, this time it's about your cyrn. "

Arames' eyes flashed at her and he growled some. It didn't actually matter how mad he was. He knew he couldn't make it across the desert with his side as it was. He was bleeding all over the place and he could feel it running down his side again. That jerk was a bit too rough and he knew it. "If you try to cage the falcon I will kill you."

"If I wanted to cage it, I would have killed you the moment I could and have taken it on to the mountains in one," she replied back flatly, her eyes boring into his, "I'm more worried about the Dymket trying to put it in chains if they find us." Whatever it was he hated people so much for was outweighed by the bird's safety and in the end, she supposed that's all that mattered eve if she found it a sort of sad way to live.

"Fine." Snarling at her he motioned with one hand for her to lead the way. Arames didn't care to stand out in the rain for much longer, but he had a feeling it could be a long time walking.

His vicious 'fine' did little for her mood and she rolled her eyes before setting out down the street at a casual pace that picked up as soon as they were on the outskirts of the port. Then she turned them northward into flatlands. They were staying off of main roads this time and he would have to get over it. Rain continued to batter them until they were miles away from the shoreline and its port. In reality, the rain wasn't a bad thing so long as she could keep her bearings. It would keep any flying Dymekt grounded. She pushed them hard until the rain became a light drizzle making way for a grey dawn to bloom over the land. Arames' pace had slowed considerably over the last hours and through the dark. There was a temptation to bark at him to keep up the pace, as they were having to leave like this because of him, but when she glanced back she saw a red stain soaked all over the side of his t-shirt.

That brought Talia to an immediate halt as she met his eyes. "You never say the things you should and always say the things you shouldn't," she sighed, "C'mon. We'll find a place to rest and I'm going to look at the pike wound again." It wasn't a question. After a mile of trekking through the misty grey morning, they came across a ramshackle hut. It had clearly been abandoned for some time given half of it had been consumed by fire some time ago. Still, there was enough to seek shelter in and she hauled them into the small living space before motioning for Arames to sit down without his pack. Within minutes she had his shirt stripped off and set about looking at the hole left by the Dymket. "You've gone and opened it up again," she sighed, "This time I'm going to stitch it closed so you might as well close your eyes. There's going to be blood." She cleaned the wound all over again, using whatever was available in his pack then reached into her belt and snatched a small length of fishing wire along with a bone needle. "You should take better care of yourself. The animals are expecting you to come back sometime, I imagine. Just no complaints about my stitching...I'm not the best and you're going to have a scar." As she talked, her tiny fingers looped the fishing line and began threading through his skin, pulling the fleshy hole closed.

The day seemed to get longer and the hours drug by. Arames forced himself to keep walking, but despite his best efforts he slowed. It was raining outside, it was getting cold and he hurt. Occasionally he would reach over and put a hand on his side. Mostly it was an attempt to support the muscles and prevent them from moving. Unfortunately, the muscles seemed to be forced to move with every step. By the time he thought he might have to stop the girl noticed and he somewhat hoped she said that they would stop now. Instead she wanted to keep walking and the next mile felt like it would never end.

They had to climb over one rock and then he had to nearly crawl to get through some of the foliage. Every now and then Arames would look up to be sure that the falcon was still safe. The bird had been flying low because it couldn't see them through the clouds and dark if it got too high. He knew the creature was becoming uneasy. It could sense there was something wrong and it knew this was a dangerous place to be. In many ways Arames felt nervous. What would he do if the bird got hurt? Wouldn't that have been the same as betrayal? This falcon trusted him and it followed him because it thought he would not put it in danger and yet that was exactly what he was doing now. It was all for the chance to preserve the falcons, but he still felt guilty about it.

At long last they reached the small dilapidated dwelling and Arames gingerly sat in one of the corners. Already the girl was pulling at his shirt and Arames grimaced when his arms were forced to move. An involuntary groan sounded when her pulling on his shirt forced his arms over his head. Almost as soon as the shirt was off he started to try and get a look at it. His side hurt. Instead the girl was angling herself in there and not allowing him to see while advising him there was blood.

Just the mention of blood was more than enough. Arames started to feel light headed and he leaned back against the wall. While he was in half a daze she talked about leaving a scar and him not complaining. A scar wasn't much to worry about. Besides, he figured he would get a scar from the poke to his side anyway. Stopping to rest felt good and he gradually started to fall asleep. He was too tired to stay awake even if he'd barely gotten up this morning. So many of the bruises from the beating were throbbing, but the sensation seemed to be less when he slept.

Sleep wasn't going to bring relief. Instead it ushered in a new sort of torture and he started to feel sick. That mush headed fellow kept staring at him with those wide dead eyes. It was the last thing he remembered before he'd passed out at the fight and he couldn't get over it. Arames eyes opened again and he brought up one hand to rub at them. His left eye was bloodshot from the multiple blows he'd received to his head and the red veins in his eye stood out in sharp contrast to the violet color of his iris.

If there was a time that he thought maybe someone could help him it was now, but he didn't think the time was right. There was never a good time to talk and especially not about these things. He had always hated anyone that was violent and he thought they were just lesser beings and now he'd discovered how easy it was to be found at fault for something even if it had been an accident. Accident, or not it was unforgivable. Arames rubbed at his sore head and stinging eye as if it would smudge the memory, or wipe it away. The falcon was perched on top of the dwelling they were in and the bird peered inside and gave a squawk as it looked at him. The golden eyes weren't accusing, but Arames felt as if everyone could see his guilt.

When the girl looked at him Arames turned his head away again. He didn't want to say a word and he didn't want to look at her. She was the one that had seen the shameful act and he couldn't do it again to cover it up, but he was constantly reminded by her and the bird. At last she seemed to think that he'd had enough rest and Arames slowly made his way out the door of the miserable shack. This walk to her mountains would be very long.

At the mention of blood, Arames was already swaying and she rolled her eyes. For someone who went woosy at the sight or talk of blood, he didn't seem to mind that he had killed the Dymekt man so much. Whatever his reasoning, it didn't change the fact that she had to chase him with the needle and fishing line to patch him up. Hopefully, it wouldn't become infected, but she had no way of knowing how long he had been exposed like that. She simply cleaned him up, stitched him yet aup and then let him sleep it off.

While he was collapsed yet again, Talia took up a post in the doorway, sitting against the charred frame as her head dropped to her knees. The rain was a light mist around the shack and it kept them hidden but it also concealed anyone who might be following. Sitting in the doorway way was the best way to ensure that no one could sneak up and Arames couldn't sneak out if he managed to stay awake long enough. Her nerves were stretched thin as it was with little sleep and as many monsters in her mind there would undoubtedly be on their trail soon. Wrapping her hands around her knees, she realized they felt slick. Slimey even. There were black stains of dried blood under her fingernails which was the last remaining physical evidence of her work to defend the desert man. In her mind, the men's faces were much more real and would probably just join the menagerie of faces she had seen the last looks of.

The morning passed to afternoon but the foul weather remained. Arames woke and stayed silent as he gathered himself up and refused to meet her gaze. It was just as well. She wasn't in the mood to talk. They walked the rest of the afternoon, coming to the steppes where the rain slacked off and passing nearly all the way through. There was a small settlement not far from where they were. She remembered it from having stayed close-by while chasing the bird into the desert weeks ago.

After awhile the flat scrubby land became greener, and trees were more common accompanied by softly building Hills. Sitting in the valley between two hill tops and flanked by a wide river, was the small town of ramshackle houses in a small sleeping house.

"We're stopping here for the night," she said as she started across the long bridge over the river, "We're both tired, hungry and You're still hurt. There are a few trees for the falcon to hide in too. With any luck the rest of the Dymket group will have gone the opposite direction, looking for you toward the desert rather than northward. Nobody but the dead ones knew I was there, as far as I know but they would have followed where they thought you could go once they find out the others are missing."

With that said, she started across the planks of the bridge. Halfway across she noticed that he was hesitating to follow her and she waved him forward. It was understandable if he didn't know how to swim considering his home was the desert and it wasn't exactly like she's seen many of them swimming anyways. He probably never learned how out of principle. "C'mon. It's sturdy. It won't break. There's a warm bed waiting on the other side."

Arames didn't know if he felt any better about going further into the mountains with the girl. He let her lead the way since she knew where they were going. In many ways it was a mercy. He was still left wondering what it meant after he killed that man. Did it really make him no better than anyone else? It had certainly made him a murderer. Arames wasn't any better than a prowling wolf that maimed and killed for fun. Sometimes the creature would have a blood lust and it would kill when it was not hungry. There was no particular reason that he had killed the Dymekt. Part of it was anger and then he didn't know if he swung at him because he wanted revenge for the beating he was given, or if it was for the fact that he knew they would kill the falcon if they were given the chance.

Still in his mind he argued for his own innocence. It was an accident. He didn't know that the Dymekt had such soft skulls. At the same time his mind was condemning him. He should never have swung at a man like that to start with. Swinging with a tool like that would have likely hurt a Chippequoti too and he knew better. Even if he wasn't a warrior he knew some of the basic rules. One was that you never started a fight you couldn't win and the second was, if you picked up a weapon you needed to have every intent to kill.

Just thinking about this made him feel sick. Arames knew that he'd picked up the weapon in anger and it wasn't a fight he could win. Still he questioned himself. Did he pick up the weapon with the intent to kill? Deep down he knew the answer was yes. He intended to have these Dymekt die. They were going to be given weapons that he purposefully made flawed and that was no different than killing them. Only the way he'd done it was far more disturbing to his conscience. Just coming to that conclusion in the end was enough to make him feel even work about himself and the whole ordeal. There was a good reason that he didn't speak and he tried to just stay out of other people's way.

After a long while of walking they came to a bridge and Arames watched the girl walk across first. She was tiny and so of course she thought it was sturdy. It didn't look to be nearly sturdy enough for him. Arames didn't think any bridge looked sturdy enough unless it was practically made of stone. Cautiously he inched his way forward with tiny little shuffling steps and then he leaned forward slightly and grabbed hold of the ropes on either side.

His knuckles turned white from his firm grip and he hadn't even attempted stepping onto the bridge with either of his feet yet. With a painfully slow pace he lifted one foot high enough to put it on the bridge and then he gingerly placed the next one the bridge too. This sort of thing was agonizing. He could move slow and be on the bridge for a long time and possibly sweat despite the cooler weather, or he could risk the bridge moving and get over it faster. Even if he was undecided the girl seemed to make his mind for him. She was in a hurry and she was trying to tempt him with a warm bed.

As much as he hated to think that a bed was tempting, it was. Holding tightly to the ropes he took large lunging steps, but did his best to keep his center gravity in the same neutral line. One of the steps caused the bridge to tip and he almost panicked. He was so close to the edge. Taking a step with his opposite foot he balanced things out again and then ran across the bridge the rest of the way.

On the other side Arames clenched his jaw and lowered his head again. He just wanted to get this trip over with. The falcon circled over them a few times and then found a tree that it liked to roost in while it watched them walk on. There were so few places the bird could rest like that in the desert. In a way Arames could see that this was a better life for the bird, but he couldn't make it choose this for itself. When they finally were a ways past the bird it mounted the skies again and rode the winds to the next best perching spot. The way Talia had spoke about it made it sound like the little hut was close, but it was not anywhere near the bridge. They walked for a long while more and when they finally reached the little hut Arames quietly took up a corner. He could work on a few of the softer metals and bed them to a useful shape, but bending them too much would cause them to break without the heat of a forge. Metal was still mostly brittle. However, the bits of gold he had he could heat up easily enough and use one of the broad weapons as a place to pound the gold into a wire that he could begin twisting into a design of sorts. Anything to take his mind off what happened and make something pretty was appealing.

Taking the gold out of his pack he warmed it up and then laid out one of the large, flat blades that had yet to be sharpened. It was possibly a battle ax for someone, but for now it would work as a work bench. With one of the smaller dense hammers and his little prongs he started the process. First he would hold the metal with the prong and then he would carefully pound it into shape with the hammer, heat the metal, turn it and pound it again. The process would take several hours, but he had time and then he effectively ignore stares from the girl.

They were rented a small hut by the landlady in the old town. It was workable as a place to stay for the night with walls of cobbled stones and a bed made neatly in the corner. Some of the lights flickered because they were powered by the wind turbine which took up most of the village courtyard. The massive blades on the device were old and obviously in need of repair as the wobbled in their perpetual circled out of view above them. Normally, she would have found the turbine fascinating, as her people didn't have such things, but at the current moment, it hardly held her attention for more than a second. Talia felt a weariness in her bones that she hadn't in a while. Not only was she physically feeling run down, she was angry. Arames was his own special source of exhaustive to deal with.

In fact, he seemed entirely unconcerned as he camped out in the corner fiddling with his tools. Rolling her eyes, she debated on whether or not to tell him it was not the time for crafting, then decided to leave him be. She didn't have the energy to argue and he seemed incapable of doing what needed to be done. Walking across the room, she pulled back the covers on the bed in a single swoop to inspect for signs of dirt or bugs. She didn't fancy getting eaten alive by bedbugs or anything else in a strange bed. Satisfied the sheets were clean, Talia tossed them back into place and glanced to Arames. "I'm going for food and medicine. Watch the doors. If someone comes through that doesn't say your name before doing it, then...well I guess you bloody well know what to do." She didn't care if her comments sounded like orders and offended his delicate pride. He could eat his own hat if wanted, so long as he made it to the mountains in good health for the sake of the bird.

Talia left him to do whatever he felt like, expecting he probably wouldn't go anywhere. Since the night before he had been quiet and refused to even look at her unless entirely necessary and only for the minimum time required. That was just fine by her. He was easier to deal with when he was quiet and she had no desire to hear him talk about the events in the port. Images of blood along with the knowledge that he had been the instigator still left a bad taste in her mouth. She hated that entire situation. It hadn't been a good thing to kill them, at least at that point, both logically and by code. It meant that he had acted irrationally and seemed cold about the death he caused. What was he touched in the head? A berserker? Would someone who had violent fits act so cold later on with no signs of remorse? That sort of thought made her shudder as she went into the small market to the different stalls.

Her small pouch on her belt only held a few coins, but it seemed most of the villagers were open to haggling. A particular stall selling fried meat pies caught her attention and she looked over the pan of sizzling oil with a raised brow. "How much?" The old woman gave her a cautious look before answering. "2 credits for one." Talia shook her head. "I'll give you 2 credits for 4 but not more." There wasn't much foot traffic through the area and the pies would probably spoil if she didn't sell them soon. "2 and three quarters for 3?" Talia denied and countered for four and in the end got 4 pies for 2 and three-quarters credits and a reading on the woman's palm. A steal as far as she could tell.

On the way back to the hut, she passed by a small dry goods stand and dwindled to a stop at the store front. " What you need?" asked the man as he arranged his wares absently. Talia remained aloof until she offered a few coins for a minuscule jar of honey and a tube of fresh salt. Another haggling round brought the price a manageable one and she walked away with the two items with a little coinage left.

"Arames, it's Talia. Don't go swinging any hammers when I come in." She announced herself clearly and walked in to find him more or less where she left him. The hulk of a man sat in the corner still working on the gold wires. He had formed it into some sort of filigree and maintained his silence as he worked. "I brought food," she said, rifling through the bag of pies. She removed two of the meat pockets from the bag then nudged the rest over to Arames for him to pick up. "When you're done eating, I have something that will help your back." Again she was met with silence.

Sighing, she turned her attention to the meat pie and took a giant bite while mumbling at Arames under her breath. "Oooh, Talia. You shouldn't have thought to bring me medicine...if I don't talk you'll just ignore me.." Her smarmy impression of the practical man-child entertained her for a moment as she gulped down the first pie, then the second in short order. When she was done, she sat down next to him and pulled at the back of his blood-stained shirt. As she suspected the wound looked red. Irritated with all of the pulling at the skin. Shaking her head, she washed it down the warm salt water from the pitcher by the bed and spread the honey over, not bothering to stop if he grunted or groaned. "There. That should help take the heat out and hopefully keep it from getting infected." With that done, she took to moving the bed in front of the door. Long, screeching scrapes accompanied her efforts to block the door with the bed. She could keep Arames from sneaking off because she was sure he couldn't fit through the small window, and anyone trying to come through the door would be hindered. Plus it was the point in the room furthest from the desert man.

Without hesitation, she pulled off the two outer layers of her shirts and flopped onto the mattress with a relieved sigh. It felt good to be in a real bed for the first time in several months. Not that she deserved one, but she was too tired to think much about all the reasons why. Her head lolled over the edge of the mattress and she met Arames' bright eyes from her upside down view. "The thing you're working on is pretty," she commented. It was hard to believe the same hands that made such pretty things like her weapon did such damage. Then again, didn't that rule apply to anyone. Frowning, she stared at him for a long moment as if trying to understand a puzzle before rolling over and closing her eyes. "Get some sleep, Arames. We start early as possible tomorrow."

Sleeping in the same room with Arames' big body was hot. Sweat rolled down Talia's temple as she shifted, trying to find the cool spots in the sheets. She was glad she had tossed the heavy blanket to him, but even the light sheets were too much. Her feet kicked out and she wiped at her brow wondering how it could be so hot without a fire. Fires were always a problem and their smoke stifled her, choking the life from her lungs while a red glow surrounded her. White hot embers burned against her skin as she coughed. There wasn't any place to run and people were screaming as the pine cones rained down on them like miniature fireballs. Talia stood in the midst looking for her father when warcries shrieked above the roaring blaze. The sound made her sick and no matter which way she turned there was no escape. She was going to burn alive and be reduced to nothing but bone starting with her hands. Flames spread up her arms, fueled by red blood and she yelled, struggling to stamp out the fire as a booming sound met her ears.

Talia opened her eyes and immediately closed them as stinging sweat dribbled down her soaked hair. Those sorts of dreams were less common now. It had been a few years. She wiped angrily at her eyes with a shaking hand. Why did it decide to come to her mind now? Burning the bodies in the forge had been harder than she thought and lack of sleep probably. The mere thought of the Dymekt bodies burning made her cringe and she swallowed against hot bile rising up along with her anger. "I guess that's what we have in common, Arames," she said aloud to the darkness, " You care only about the bird and I guess it's smarter for me to do the same." Feeling more tired than when she went to bed, Talia gripped her sword pommel laying next to her and fell asleep.

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

There was no issue leaving the town at dawn and their trek into the foothills. All the while the mountain range, capped with white snow and skirted by vast green forests grew closer and closer. Trees invaded the green landscape creating pocket meadows filled with flowers and waving grasses where deer came to graze. They were getting closer to familiar territory and with it came a certain sense of relief. Home was close and the air seemed lighter for a while until the inevitable dread of actually going home set in. Maybe things would go better since she was coming back with the falcon. It was too late to turn back now.

As they crossed through a meadow a rustling sound caught on Talia's ears and she dropped into a crouch amid the tall grasses. Arames seemed a bit slower on the move and she tugged him down. When he was done making a loud mess of getting into a couch, Talia rolled her eyes and listened carefully. There was something moving in the shadows of the treeline to the North, but whether they were friend or foe remained to be seen. The answer to that question came in short order when an arrow thumped into the ground a foot from where she sat. "Run for the trees, Arames. Run!"

Elossa had spent a long time that day hunting, shooting unsuspecting rabbits and other poor things that had come to their demise to one of the arrows in the quiver on her back. With every other animal she killed she wandered back to her village to give them back to the people waiting that had been waiting for that food as Elossa was so begrudgingly hunting for them. She wasn't the biggest fan of hunting, she always felt a little bad for the rabbits she was going to be eating later.

She felt a little sick as she crouched down, now in hand, aimed right at the neck of a deer, having a nibble at the grass. “I have to do this.” She said under her breath in an almost silent whisper. As she let go of the arrow she felt a shiver got up her spine. The deer ran as the arrow pierced the bark of a tree behind it, she cursed as she stood up, moving towards the tree and pulling the arrow out of the tree in a twisting fashion, pulling a circle of bark out of the tree before she placed it back in her quiver.

The woman looked through the trees back into the direction of where her village was, there was something compelling her not to go back. She didn't want this to be her life, every other day going out to kill the innocent animals of the forest. She wanted to protect them and keep them safe from the torment of her village. That couldn't happen though, if she went missing surely people would go looking for her, and the Aslam did have brilliant hearing.

Elossa pulled her bow over her body, having the grip against her back as she walked to where the trees were thinning and it opened out to a meadow with long, dry grass. That's when she heard them. The tip of her ears twitched as she hid behind a tree, peeking around every so often to look at the man and woman walking through the meadow.

She walked around the meadow, hiding behind trees every so often as she made her way to the north, before making herself slightly present in the meadow, pulling her bow over her head and shooting it so it would hit near the two people who had ducked down from noticing her, and when it hit the ground, they ran, and so did Elossa, grabbing her arrow from the ground on her way past, chasing them, wanting them to be gone, unfortunately they ran the opposite direction to where she wanted them to be going, into the forest.