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Old story revisited, 2

Posted by Necia Phoenix on March 16, 2014 in snippage, Teaser, Writing |

Ok, so here’s the rest (sorta) of the scene I posted the other night. Honestly my brain is happy and has shelved this story in liu of finishing Zander so I can get the timeline written up to this story. I could, I suppose, write on, I know what happens, and it doesn’t mess too badly with spoilering things, but I’ll have to think about it. Anyways, here’s the first bit over here if you need to have a refresher. Okay, ready?

 

The song seeped into his mind, telling of ages past, long gone times. The shadows on the ceiling of the cave flickered and danced. He frowned, blinking. How long had he been staring?

“I have got to stop doing this.” He muttered, trying to push himself up.

Nit, nit! Hoynia ei zi!” Hands pushed him back and he found himself staring up at large green eyes peering from beneath filthy hair.

The woman, the singer. She turned her head towards the fire, reaching for something out of his vision, and he saw the elegant double tips of her ear. Rahaun. She was rahaun. She turned back to him, holding a small salve jar. She spoke again, gesturing toward him. Her hair, her face were filthy, her hands were clean, slender and scarred. She dipped a finger into the jar and it came out covered in a dark brown cream. He held up a hand and shook his head. She said something and his hand was brushed aside. Wherever she touched, numbing cool spread, the burning and itching he’d grown used to, stopped.

She spoke as she smeared it, going down his neck and shoulder. He belatedly realized his clothes were gone, a covering spread over his lower half. He wanted to ask where his things were, but he was growing tired. He closed his eyes, feeling the pain ease away, the woman began to sing again, low and haunting, words that made no sense.

 ~*~

It was dark when he woke again, his body aching and skin burning. He pushed himself up slowly, looking around. The fire had died down to embers. In front of it, curled up under a ragged looking blanket, was the woman. They were in a small cave. Against the wall was a stack of something, he couldn’t tell what. It wasn’t wood, he wondered how she’d managed to get a fire going. What was she using for fuel?

His things were stacked neatly beside him, the orb on top. He glanced back at the woman, then around the cave. The tunnel leading off behind him appeared to be the the only way in and out. He pushed aside the coarse blanket and pulled on his pants, leaning against the cave wall to rest. It was infuriating, the act of getting dressed made him dizzy. He leaned over, intending to pick up his tunic and found himself sitting, blinking. He pressed his palm to his forehead.

A jaw-breaking sentence rattled off and he looked over. The woman was watching him, shaking her head.

“I don’t understand you.” He said, fearing it came out as a groan. Eyes narrowed and she moved over to him at a crouch, saying something else. A different language, vaguely familiar, but still incomprehensible.

He shook his head again, flinching when she touched his face. She was looking back and forth between the burn and the other side of his face. She said something, an inquiry.

“I stepped between my friend and a fireball.” He spoke in high rahaun, hoping the ancient language was one she’d recognize. She tipped her head to one side, eyes narrowing.

“Fire-ball?” The words were thick, accent heavy. He nodded half grinning.

“You speak high rahaun.”

She blinked several times and nodded. “Is old speech. Am out of practice.” Her voice was rough.

“What’s your name?” He spoke slow, watching her face. She frowned again, looking away, whispering something in another language, and looked back at him.

“Dee.”

“Dee? I’m Zindith.”

She repeated it, working the sounds then nodded. “You rest. You fell far. Should have died.”

“It’s not the first time.” He said dryly. He should just avoid high places all together.

“Then, it probably won’t be the last.” She skampered on all fours, animal like, over to a stack of things, then returned with the jar. He shook his head, held up his hand.

“Wait,”

“You hurt.” She batted his hand aside and lathered the concoction over the burn.

“What is in that stuff.” He asked, the blessed numbing of his face enabled the other aches and pains to rear their heads.

She didn’t answer, her lips moved though no sound came out. She finished applying the salve then pointed at the mat he’d been sleeping on.

He shook his head. “I need to find a way out of here.”

She blinked, moving back towards the fire and tossed something wide onto the embers. It flared up, casting shadows over the cave. A clumped strand of hair hung over her face.

“No escape. No way out.” She moved, skittering out of the cave, disappearing into the looming dim tunnel.

 

~*~

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