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She dropped the robe and walked back toward the residence, but she didn’t want to see anyone, so she headed for the jungle. It was time to get acquainted with her new home.
She shifted in the crook of the tree, where she had found enough space to catch a nap for a few hours. She felt a demand in the link, so she sighed and sent a response.
Reynaldo and Makso were at the base of her tree in under a minute. She climbed down and walked to him. He was shocked. “Your hair. Your skin...”
“Yeah. I just wanted a nap before I had to deal with it. The salon was given very specific orders.”
“Why didn’t you stop them?” He touched her head and stroked the fluff.
“I didn’t know that any of them spoke English until the receptionist grabbed my arm and demanded payment.”
“Syar is going to be pissed.”
“Good for him.” She felt pressure against her legs. “Oh, hey, Missus. Thank you.”
Reynaldo watched her take the pheasant, and he said, “She’s hunting for you?”
“I’m hungry. The last food I kept down was on the airplane.”
“I thought you had breakfast before you left.”
“You are doing a lot of thinking. Where can I use a frying pan and get some butter?”
“You can use the kitchen.”
“I think I am going to be a bit of a bitch today.”
“Feel free. You are entitled.”
She smiled. “You might want to stand out of the way.”
They walked to the residence, and Reynaldo said she was to be given full rein to prepare her meat. The moment he was out of the room, Myele snorted. “It seems you got the wrong end of the scissors.”
Ven walked up and faced her, and she did what she never did. She roared.
* * * *
Syar looked at Reynaldo. “You found her?”
“Yes. She was sleeping in a tree after they sheared her at the salon.”
“They what?”
“That beautiful hair? Gone. Down to an inch. Myele gave the salon instructions to damage her. She didn’t have enough energy in her to deal with them.”
Syar stood up and was going to look for his little princess when he heard a roar that shook the structure. “What the fuck?”
Reynaldo ran with him to the kitchen, where the staff was huddling in a corner, and Venetia was humming and arranging some fowl in a cast iron pan. Once that was set, she washed her hands and her claws. She took a container of salt back to the stove and sprinkled some on the sizzling meat.
She turned to Syar. “Good morning, Your Majesty. I haven’t slept much or eaten anything, so please excuse me while I make myself some food.”
He stared at her as her shorn head moved while she worked on her meal. “Uh, Venetia, my precious. Where did you get the bird?”
“Makso’s missus brought it to me. She knew I was hungry.”
“What happened to your hair?” He looked at Myele, who cringed back.
“Haircut. It will grow out.”
