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KAIO
“Don’t move,” I whispered calmly, shifting away from where I was crouched by the fire cooking.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Gwen volleyed back, voice shaking.
“If it doesn’t feel threatened, it won’t attack.”
“If what doesn’t feel threatened?” She blinked, wondering what the hell was moving through the flora near her. I couldn’t blame her. No one liked to be caught by surprise, especially in foreign terrain. “Is it one of those finton serpents?” Fear trilled through her words.
“Relax, Gwen. Just try and breathe normally.”
“It’s right next to me, Kaio. Right next to my butt! What is it?” Gwen’s imagination assaulted me, visions of long legless creatures with fangs. A snake. A rattlesnake.
“It’s a Vorpean Gilean Monster, not a finton serpent,” I reassured her, thinking the answer would help her deal with the situation. Because it could be a hell of a lot worse. I mean, a bite from a Vorpean would send you on a hallucinogenic trip from the gland excretions in its mouth, but it wasn’t fatal. Unless someone attacked you while you were drugged and incapacitated.
“How big is a Vorpean Gilean Monster?” She did not seem assured by my words. Not at all. “And why the hell is it called a monster if it’s not as bad as a freaking snake, Kaio?”
“Depends.” I moved toward her soundlessly, crawling across the ground.
She was bathed by the firelight, orange-red flowing against her skin. She was beautiful, even when scared out of her mind.
“Depends on what, Kaio?” Gwen whisper-hissed. Her brain broadcasted one thought now—she was wondering how I could stay so relaxed while she faced certain doom. It was all a bit dramatic.
“Whether it’s a baby or full grown.” I gave a little shrug, only a few inches from her now.
“Well which is it?” she scowled at me, wiggling a little as the Vorpean brushed against her hip. It was moving in my direction. I just needed to remain perfectly still. Wait until the perfect moment.
“Just don’t move, Gwen,” I urged her. “Trust me and this will all be over soon.”
“What will all be over? My life?” she grumbled at me, but complied, no longer wiggling and shifting away from the creature.
“Always so dramatic,” I chided, watching and waiting.
Watching and waiting.
When the Vorpean Gilean Monster lurched forward, I shot my right hand out, snagging the intruder by the scruff of its neck, pinching its weak spot that would cause instantaneous paralysis. If I chopped off the head quickly, its glands wouldn’t flood the hallucinogen through the body, rendering the meat inedible.
Reaching behind me, I snagged a blade, slicing off the head quickly and watching its muddy brown blood spurt from the wound.
It wasn’t fully grown, just a baby, and about as long as my leg including the tail.
“Jesus,” Gwen moaned out, slumping in relief. “Full grown, of course it would be.”
“No,” I shook my head, beginning to skin the body, “not even a month or two old. Barely a baby. Hopefully it wandered off from its nest and that nest is far off, because otherwise we could be swarmed by others. I didn’t see other Vorpean tracks when we made camp, only signs of the finton serpents, so I don’t believe the Vorpean originated here.”
Gwen scrambled up and moved quickly to sit right beside me, closer to the heat of the fire which made her cheeks redden. If we were on Orenda, I would summon fans to cool her. A bowl of cold fruit from my mother’s gardens, lovingly maintained by the female elders of the surrounding village. I would make her comfortable. Happy.
I snapped the Vorpean’s spine and rolled the body against the ground, pressing down firmly to loosen the skeleton from the flesh.
“What are you doing to it?” She watched as I deboned the body, pulling the support system out in one connected piece. I leaned over, breaking a fragrant spice fern from the ground and pushing its stem into the lifeless mouth, threading through until the hollow tail ended. The fern was solid and unyielding, not bending on the Vorpean’s weight. I shoved the broken end of the plant into the soft sand, and then I let it hover over the flame to roast. I didn’t answer Gwen immediately; I had to bury the head so the smell of the blood and poisons wouldn’t call others here.
“Vorpean is great sustenance, as long as you chop the head off before the glands flood through the meat. Tastes similar to Ammonite fish fed on their genetically spliced seaweed.”
“Sounds… delicious.” By Gwen’s tone, I wondered if she was employing sarcasm again.
“It is. Trust me.”
“I don’t really have a choice in that, do I?” Not sarcasm this time, and no bitterness. I risked a glance at her, saw the smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Now tell me about camping. And Dismor.”
