Between The Crystals

Ch 8 Rumors of a Cull

A hand tapped my shoulder, and I blinked sleepily at Grant. I sat up, exhaustion still clinging to every muscle.

"Can you make it to the porter's circle?" he asked.

I glanced at the large circle of rocks at the end of the ravine. Dubbed the "porter's circle", it was a spot where porters and Grant often gathered in the evenings. It was only about thirty paces away, and two of the rocks had bowls of soup and two small baskets of greens on them.

My stomach gurgled at the sight of food. "One way to find out."

Grant offered me his hand, and I took it. My legs felt like lead as I pulled them under me and stood up. Each step was shaky as I leaned on my adoptive father's arm, but I made it. I opted to sit on a fur at the base of a rock so I could use the stone as a backrest.

"It's been a while since I've seen you overextend yourself like this," Grant commented.

"I only did six solo ports before taking the cart though," I replied, frowning as the word left my lips. Said aloud, the number seemed even more wrong.

I picked up the wooden bowl beside me, which was three-quarters full. Grant's was only half full, and most of the villagers would have portions similar to his. I glanced at the sunny ledges where the meat drying racks were. They were a third emptier than they had been this morning.

"You were tired when you came back from the Guard Station. I should have asked you to rest instead of planting those seeds, but a couple of ports usually don't knock you down like this." Grant ate a spoonful of soup while regarding me for a moment. "Lift up your pantleg. I want another look at those claw marks."

Confused, I lifted my pantleg. The red mark had halfway faded, and only tiny dots of red marked where the Saursune's claws had pricked into my skin.

Grant peered at it. "No signs of infection, or at least not the quick flesh-eating kind, although that one is usually only contracted in the jungles. Not inflamed enough for poison either."

With a shudder, I let my pantleg drop. "I think I just exhausted myself when I was struggling to get away. I didn't realize it would affect my porting that much."

Grant nibbled on a dandelion leaf from the small, straw-woven basket without commenting. Perhaps my explanation let me avoid one of his famous lectures about overextending myself. Because it didn't make sense. Half of the village's porters might not be able to manage eight ports, but I could hit fifteen on a bad day, and Grant knew it.

Other porters drifted over to join us. Their servings were similar to mine, and they opted to eat instead of chatter.

The warm soup was also my primary focus. Once again, it was mostly greens, a handful of grass seeds, four thumbnail-sized pieces of fish, and one crunchy white cube that didn't taste like potato.

When my bowl was empty, I set it to the side and began nibbling on the greens in the small basket. The heat had wilted the plants, and they didn't taste as good as when we ate them in the field. I really had to chew some of the tougher stems that had come from older plants. People must not be straying far enough from the crystals to find the new growth.

Ariel moved to a stone beside me. "Someone said a Saursune scratched your ankle?"

I pulled up my pant leg and shifted my leg so the others could see it.

She whistled in quiet amazement. "I'm amazed you got away."

"It let me go," I admitted. I told them of the events and what I had learned at the Guard Station.