Beginnings, Ch 2, Pt 2

Aalila saw her lover's hands clench briefly into fists and his scent grew flat for a handful of seconds before his expression turned determined. He walked a few paces towards a granary and took up two of the zaalsestri leaning against it. The slightly crescent-shaped staves were slightly taller than he was, with a handle grip about a third of the way down from the top on the inside of the crescent. With relief, she saw him weave the sharpened inner edge of the longer section back into the round shape matching the shorter end.

“Mesaanos Tirka,” He said, “I will bring these back with me. And twice as much fruit as you need to recook these flasks of runners' fruit.”

He picked up a shoulder belt laden with twelve flasks filled with a thick syrup made from fruits that had been cooked down to concentrate their sugars and tossed it to her. With that, he started trotting westward.

Aalila followed quickly after him and just managed to her her father say, “Take these instead...” but was too far away to hear the rest.

Mesaanos Tirka, shook his head, chuckling a little, “Ah, well, they'll find out soon enough.”

Kaelish Nelmos fought the urge to run as fast as he could. While that might let him catch up to his mother, it would probably leave him too spent, even replenished with runners' fruit, to be useful. So he kept his pace to a lope that covered ground quickly but did not sap his endurance. Aalila paced him easily. They quickly made their way through the remainder of the Krendaarri's home and onto the plains westward from there. A few Krendaarri were coming from the direction in which they were headed and they could see where the grasses had been bent by those who had come through previously . However, they followed a trail of grass that was bent in the direction they traveled. The path Yenaali had made. As they ran, the grass was bent more, letting them know they were getting closer to her as it had not yet had time to start to grow more upright. After running for close to three Hands, they managed to catch up to her.

And find her surrounded by three hands' worth of hlesskssaa. Yenaali was managing to keep the pride at bay by spinning about and swinging a single zaalsestra that she gripped closed to one end of the staff. Kaelish Nelmos looked quickly for the second staff, they were nearly always used in pairs, then he saw how his mother kept her right arm close to her body and saw the trail of blood painting that side of her body green.

Quickening his pace, he shouted, “DOWN!” then planted the longer ends of his own zaalsestri into the ground and used then to vault high.

Yenaali heard her son's shout and as much fainted to the ground as crouched. She was aware enough to see his leap and the resulting flip that carried him over the back of two of the hlesskssaa and land just in front of her. Spinning, he lashed out with both of his weapons and struck five of them hard blows on their flanks. Cautious, the pride drew away and scattered out of the range of his reach.

That was enough for now. Kaelish Nelmos kept the zaalsestri outstretched but shifted his focus to the grass about them. Eyes flashing a brilliant blue, he used his weave sense to draw the grass up and the ground beneath into a round wall three times his height and as round in diameter, closing himself, his mother and Aalila, who rushed in as the hlesskssaa scattered within its sheltering walls.

Aalila knelt down beside Yenaali and gently moved the blood-covered arm. A claw had caught it and laid it open almost to the bone from wrist to elbow. Worse, though, was another clawing that opened her side deep enough to break several ribs and tear organs below.

“Hold her steady,” She told Kaelish Nelmos as he knelt beside the both of them. Then, to Yenaali, she said, “This will hurt, I am sorry.”

Yenaali managed to cough a weak laugh, “It already does, Weaver.” She placed a reassuring hand on the one who loved her son so as she used Aalila's title instead of her name; showing great respect for Aalila's talents. “Do what you must.”

Aalila felt a moment's pride at the touch and the words but did not let it distract her from the task at hand. Eyes flashing at least as brightly as her lover's had a few moments before, she sensed the depth of the damage and set to work mending the rent organs and bones, muscles and tissues. It was time consuming a well as draining work and she paused for a moment to drink one of the flasks of runners' fruit to replenish her own energy.

Kaelish Nelmos held his mother as still as he could manage as Aalila worked. Yenaali cried out several times as Aalila had not lied. If possible, the putting of her body back together hurt as much, if not more, than being wounded. For all that, she held as still as she could, with her son's help, as Aalila worked. Shortly, it was much easier to breath, if still very painful to do so, and her torn skin was woven closed over her side and her arm. She would live.

Aalila held a flask to Yenaali's lips, “Drink, slowly...”

She obeyed, and very nearly wished she hadn't.

“Teni...” she managed to gasp after Aalila had squeezed the flask dry.

“Your son grabbed them,” Aalila said, smiling shaking her head. “So that was what Father tried to say. Son as mother, headstrong, reckless fools; I'd not have either of you any other way.”

They all sat or lay within the wall's shelter, each recovering their strength for a few moments as the hlesskssaa scrabbled and scratched outside. Kaelish Nelmos had hardened it enough that they could not claw their way through or gain enough of a foothold to climb up. This did frustrate the pride enough that the rattling, chattering hissing that was the source of the Krendaarri's name for these predators was getting very loud.

Kaelish Nelmos looked down at his mother then at Aalila. She nodded, “I've done as much as I can, we need to get her home so she can rest. Take care of Scarflank.”