Then, her glance fell down to a wooden chest located at the bottom board of the bed. On top of it was a couple of folded clothes. A pair of them: one set was a bulky shirt with pants and the other was an orange leather dress. She wanted to be practical and wear the pants but she opted with the stunning dress for comfort, because somehow it reminded her of her grandmother.
It isn't like I'm going to die today, she thought. She was hoping her survival trek was over and done with, belonging to the past, hoping she could put it behind her now.
On second thought, the pants offered better mobility if she ever had to go through another stint of survival. Or maybe, she should wear it together?
Looking back, she noticed Lei'la wearing a dress without pants. So, maybe she should choose from the two sets of clothes in front of her. Then again, the bulky shirt and pants must be for the wolf once he changed back to a man.
Leather might be primitive in and of itself, but the orange dress was nothing less than elegant. It had ropes of red threading through the leather that brought out a visual geometry of patterns. It was a hardy beautiful dress held by thin straps of leather on the shoulders. Along with it was a long orange cape with a hood. It had a coarse thick fabric that was made for braving out the cold weather, but when she fixed the silver wolf clasp around her neck, the orange material was cascading down up to her ankles and the feeling of its weight around her shoulders was no lighter than a feather.
Biting her lip, she made a decision. She was wearing the dress, not the pants. It seemed like the right decision, she thought, staring at the body length mirror and studying how the dress fitted to her form. Its leather hide resting against her skin was impossibly soft. She had never worn a leather dress before, but this one gave all the right places a snug comfy fit.
Once she arrived at Russ'lo's bell tent, he had a campfire flaring at the heart of his living space. A stewing pot was seated right above a fire, and what he cooked in that pot wafted a sweet overpowering scent. He was stirring the pot with a deep frown that almost looked like disdain. "Kiyerlia porridge" he announced when she came in, then gestured for her to sit on a log bench next to him "It is widely beloved for its sweetness."
"You don't like it?" she asked cautiously, receiving a bowl of his porridge as she sat. He didn't offer a spoon, so she took a sip by placing her mouth around the edge of the bowl. Immediately, a paralyzing freeze started from the bottom of her spine and ended up between her shoulder blades. Her mouth suddenly refused to move a muscle as the Kiyerlia taste sat on her tongue.
Russ'lo saw her startled expression before she could hide it then he shook his head, "I figured as much."
It took all of her willpower to gulp it down, it was like swallowing liquid glue but its taste was far sweeter than anything she has ever tried before. She gave a little smile, "I'm guessing it's an acquired taste? I haven't been around in this world that long, I don't know what to like."
He sighed, rubbing his hand through the back of his head with brown curls trembling from the onslaught "It's my fault, I apologize. It isn't for me to assume what sort of dish you would like, I should have brought a whole selection."
"No apology necessary." she waved off, "You were welcoming, and I appreciate it very much."
He nodded with a grim look set on his face.
An odd silence fell.
She busied herself by looking around, "Your home looks lovely."
His tent boasted a tall domed ceiling but his furniture was sparse. It had a wooden chest, a dresser, a birch bed in the far corner and multiple display boxes that were empty. But its wonderful feature that made it so cozy were the wall tapestries hanging on both sides of his tent. In it were stylized patterns of figure and shapes looking like it told a full complete story.
"Most women prefer sweet dishes, such as this one." he said, talking to the terracotta-tiled floor, his cheeks turning beet red. "I'm told adventurous ones prefer them with lots of spice and those with old souls, like our elders, prefer their food bitter. But what behagthis prefer are not in the scriptures, I'm afraid."
"May I ask which you are?"
"Neither."
"So you prefer eating your food with no taste?"
He nodded, "Yes." and gave a light chuckle "Isn't that weird?"
"No, it isn't. I'm actually very grateful. Before coming here, I had no idea what my fate looked like. Your concern is very much appreciated, truly. I'm glad in knowing that we can be friends."
He gave a sheepish smile before his eyes pulled back to the floor, "Me too."
"I haven't had any problems in my stomach when I ate those trail mixes yesterday, maybe I can have those again?"
His look turned incredulous, "That isn't breakfast. An honored guest should be having a full complete meal."
"Well," she licked her lips, "do you mind if I take a look at your food? I'm sure I'll be able to recognize what I can or can't eat, if it helps."
"Food stores" he nodded, pointing to an open archway entrance leading to a smaller dome-like tent that adjoined to his main tent
"I would rather have us both enjoying our food, do you mind if I choose in your food storage? I'll be happy to make something for us"
"No, not at all. To be honest, I'm glad you offered." he said, carrying an iron pot full of bubbling porridge. "I'm gonna go right outside and dump these out in the back for the strays. I'm not so sure why I thought making it was such a good idea."
She hesitated, "Am I being a difficult guest?"
"No." he said, his expression growing tender "Frankly, it is not usual for me to be inviting guests. I figure my inexperience leaves a lot for me to learn on being a good host."
"Why is that?"
"My work takes me everywhere. Warming guests in my home seemed trivial" he said, leaving for the backdoor.
When he went out, River surveyed the smaller tent that was serving as a food storage. Tons of wooden barrels lined up, crafted boxes stacked on top of each other, and dead animals strung up by strings to dry. Remembering he liked his meals in a bland taste, she avoided the meat stack and opted to use some trail mixes of nuts, dried fruits and pale blue eggs. Cracking an egg into a carved bowl, she found that apart from the pale discoloring it tasted just as well as the eggs she was used to. Next, she tested the glass jars lined up on a stack of boxes. They were full of different kinds of spices and dry herbs. Its coloring wasn't what she was used to though, the salt was pink and sugar was blue. The chopped up chives were yellow but they tasted as well as they were supposed to. Opening up clay jars revealed milk and butter, both of which, were colored orange like the amber grasslands that surrounded the tribal village. With a tripod and an iron pan over the central fire, it didn't take long to finish making two dishes of omelette with nuts and dried fruits. She sat on the log bench, staring down at her meal then to the food storage again, wondering where they put the bread at.
A few minutes later, Russ'lo appeared in the front entrance, ducking his way in. "Sorry I took so long, I ran into one of my students who was asking about some sources on a research scroll. Poor little fool didn't know how to look for a bibliography." He stopped dead in his tracks, eyebrows raising at the breakfast plate sitting on his log bench beside the fire. "What is that?"
"Breakfast. And I'll be damned if you don't like it. Breakfast is usually the kind of thing that makes the chef a chef." she shrugged, forking a blue omelette "if you know what I mean."
"I honestly don't know what you mean." With a heavy thud, he settled down on the bench next to her.
"It means that a chef is only as good as the breakfast they make." She said, handing him his plate.
"What is a chef?"
"Someone whose job it is to cook food."
He frowned, "How is that a job? Everyone can cook."
"Where I come from, not everyone can do it well."
He took a bite, chewed it slowly and took another bite again. This time with his eyes closed. "It never tastes like this."
"Minimal taste and a balanced ratio of condiments will do that." she said.
He shook his head, brows drawn down while he chewed, looking at his breakfast like it confused him.
They both sat in silence as they ate.
"Can we address the elephant in the room?" she said, then quickly followed it up when Russ'lo gave her a disgruntled look "It's an expression I was trying to say tha--"
The murmur of voices rose outside and then flaps of the front entrance began to pull away revealing the tallest man she has ever seen. He had brown shiny hair and strong shoulders, an imperious chin jutting out as he entered.
She gulped at his heavyset build, the man simply put all the wrestlers she had ever seen to shame.
"Your Highness!" Russ'lo stood in attention, moving away slowly from his line of sight with a deep bow.
"How
has it come to pass that a behagthi like you is catalytic to our son's
change?" he gritted, his voice calm but she noted his fists were
clenched and a furious vein was popping out on his temple.
A soulful howling sounded at a distance. A howl that she had come to familiarize with the giant wolf.
"Release
him immediately" the shrill voice of a woman screeched after him. She
ducked through the flapped entrance with a snarl, pounding against the
angry man's bicep with a loud resounding crack. She looked to be in her
40's, a few years older than the angry man next to her. She had a long
train of leather dress that went past her feet, and a fur-lined orange
cape that closed over it. The man she was clutching to with a snarl had a
long purple tunic with a leather belt cinched over it, and a fur-lined
red cape to go over his shoulders along with blue boots to match his
stormy eyes. "Release him now" she repeated.
Then, he swiveled to the blonde woman who was equal to his grand height "Not until we get to the bottom of this."
She
didn't realize it was possible for someone to be taller than Russ'lo,
but the arguing couple in front of her put everyone to shame with their
imperious heights.
"If I may, your highness." Russ'lo said.
"Speak, then." he clipped, the man had a grey beard and thick brows that made his scowl look even more thunderous.
Russ'lo
rose from his bow, straightening his shoulders and began speaking in a
clear earnest tone "I have long been ruminating about this unexpected
situation since yesterday and I find the answer is simple." he said,
clearing his throat.
"Go on." the woman squinted at him, placing her hands on her hips.
"As
expected, the last blow to the Champion of Age has caused the change in
our sun prince, making him our true heir of the prophecy. The arrival
of a behagthi is plainly a coincidence that happened to tie-in with our
prince's full transformation. Like I said, a coincidence, your highness.
Bla'keh should know better."
He crossed his arms, "And how is it that our sun prince has shared his private quarters with a behagthi?" he spat.
"Over
a millennium has passed since we've seen a sun prince transform to a
full wolf, your highness. I'm sure it was his primal territorial
instincts that must have dictated him to keep vigilance against a
behagthi in order to protect the tribe. Keeping her in sight at all
times meant sharing his private space."
"It makes sense, Roxo." the woman said, "Now calm down and let him free."
The
man named Roxo wasn't chastised. Instead, he stared at River for a
brief minute, unmoving, like he was conflicted on what to do next before
turning away to leave with his woman clinging to his arm.
"Well, that was shocking." she said "And a bit rude. Do you mind explaining what just happened?"
Russ'lo
looked shaken, paling in shock, "I apologize on their behalf, behagthi.
The full transformation of our sun prince to a wolf took us all by
surprise. Even as yesterday's events were foretold by a thousand year
prophecy it had been going well as expected until—" he stopped, his
brows drawing together "I must come after them before they incite the
wolf any further. There is no telling what they might do."
River
faced him, clenching her fists, "I'm getting worried over here, Russ'lo.
I have no idea what's going on, or what I'm supposed to do, or heck,
how I even got here. I was promised answers, and I'm calling it now. I
need to know if I'm safe, or if I'm causing problems. Because I could
have sworn that guy just looked to me like he was considering murder."
He
ran a hand through his brown hair, "You will get those answers."
Opening a chest drawer from the foot of his bed, he dug up a hefty
battle axe, then he began wrapping it up in a roll of rugged leather.
"Here, take this to the smithery. You're looking for a blacksmith called
En'tum"
River caught him by his arm when he turned to leave by the entrance, "What do you mean by calling me "behagthi"?"
He looked taken aback, "Do you not know this? You seem to communicate with our language just fine."
She rolled her eyes, exasperated "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't know."
"Ah."
A tiny smile curved at the corner of his mouth, shaking his head
"Behagthi means outsider in our first language. The language is luridly
ancient but we still use it in our ceremonies. However, you shouldn't
have to worry about being called an outsider. I have a positive feeling
you would fit right in, don't worry about it."
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