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“You came from above?”
Their leader is painted in fire-red dots on black scales. He is a striking, powerful creature standing close to seven feet tall. I find myself staying silent quite willingly in his presence.
“Yes,” Sithren says. “We flew down on wings of cloth to join you.”
“It has been many years since any made that journey,” the leader says.
“It has been many years since any gathered the courage,” Sithren replies.
There is a short burst of amusement from the tribesmen.
“I am Vrelk. Who are you?”
“I am Sithren,” Sithren says. “I am honored to meet you. Long have I anticipated this moment, of testing my worth and mettle against the true world.”
There is a muttering among the warriors. Sithren is unknown to them. He holds no rank here. He has been stripped of his office, his weapons, all his influence. And yet they seem to instantly respect him.
It is Tethys that stills their weapons, however. When she creeps out from behind Sithren with her wide eyes full of fear, their demeanor changes. Softens. They lower the axes and clubs and speak in softer tones.
“My daughter,” Sithren says, gesturing to Tethys. Then he puts his arm around me. “My wife.”
He’s taking advantage of the situation, claiming before the others. Or maybe he is saving me from being prepped for the cook pot. One never knows with truly wild cultures. In some places, being made of protein is enough to see one consigned to a plate.
They look at me curiously as Sithren pulls my hood back to expose me properly to their gaze. I see mixed expressions, though fear, disgust, and perhaps even revulsion feature on many of their faces. They’ve never heard of a human before, let alone seen one.
“What happened to your wife’s scales?”
They assume I am a disfigured Dinavri, rather than a creature of another species altogether. Sithren does not correct them. I can see how he intends to work his way in with them. He is going to ingratiate himself by fitting their worldview as best he can.
“She was born without them,” he explains. “But the lack of scales does not affect her general function.”
“Does she have the nether scales?”
“No,” he says. “She is smooth.”
There is another general murmur of interest as they discuss what is going on under my pants. It's another universal interest.
“Come with us,” Vrelk says. “Our village is not far from here. You may stay with us until you decide what fate decrees for you.”
“Thank you. Your hospitality is gratefully accepted.”
We are escorted across great plains by the warriors. I would have a hard time orienting myself here, but though there are no apparent landmarks, they seem to do it without issue. We walk for several hours. Tethys tires and Sithren carries her on his back. He and Vrelk speak a great deal about the city and the world Sithren left behind. I stay silent.
My silence is accepted, and probably expected. It is frustrating that I have gone from one frying pan to another, one patriarchal nightmare to another. I wonder if there is ever actually an escape from the world of men. No matter the species or the location, it seems the strength of males always defines the boundaries of the world for everybody else.
Finally, a village comes into view. It is simple, but effort has clearly gone into creating the houses which are dotted around a central eating and cooking area. I count about two dozen homes in all, each of them made of clay and thatched roofs, each of them with ornately molded walls. There is plenty of decoration here, art emerging from the earth itself. The land is the medium in which they work, and they have managed to make something as impressive as the city, but in a very different way.
The hunters must have been anticipated. A small contingent of Dinavri comes out to greet them. Women and children, mostly, obviously expecting food. They are not disappointed. Most of the warriors are carrying cloth bags strapped to their backs which contain meat.
Tethys wakes up at the sound of chattering voices. Her excitement is immediate and palpable.
“There are others!”
Sithren lets her down from his back and Tethys is soon surrounded by the village girls and boys of similar age. She is not at all shy and immediately begins telling them who she is and where she came from, entrancing them all with her tales of how she got out of bed when monsters came for her, and then she fell through the sky with her family. It’s a somewhat embellished version of events, but not entirely inaccurate.
“I stopped noticing how lonely she had become,” Sithren says as we watch her make new friends immediately, the way only young people can. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Look how happy she is among those of her own age.”
