The Tale of Outh'n Durr

Chapter 12: Tribulation

What was takingSerafin so long? Two dawnings passed without a single sound but thewaves lapping at the roots and a gentle breeze rifling through theleaves above him. Too long. Too quiet.

Being left alonewith his thoughts wasn't exactly how he thought he'd spend thelast of dawnings of his life. His people had stripped him of hislove, his family, his friends, everything which brought him joy. Heshook his head at the unfairness, wishing he could gouge out hisoffensive eye, wishing he could go back and not win a couple oftournaments. If that's all it would've taken, he'd have done itin a heartbeat. But did he really believe they'd have accepted himif he'd been handsome and a compliant little bizhal?

His head droppedinto his hands. He groaned and ruffled his hair which he noted wasbecoming shaggy. The growth of beard probably wasn't the neatest orcleanest either. When he arrived, he'd quickly rinsed hissick-soiled clothing, but he hadn't really cleansed himself.

The suns weresetting again but there was still time. He stripped off his vest,tunic and breeches. His woolen socks followed, setting off a pang ofhomesickness. He left his undergarments on. Who knew when Serafinwould arrive? She might wait until his guard was down. Keeping hiseyes open, he washed as well as he could with a small bar of travelsoap and a rough cloth. He saved his hair and face for last, knowinghe'd be most vulnerable then. He dunked his head quickly, severaltimes, breaking in between each to make certain he was still alone. Aquick lathering of soap in his hair and he repeated the dunkingprocess. Then it was time for his face. He scrubbed it and latheredup his beard, then splashed his face, keeping careful watch betweeneach rinse.

He just donned hisfresh pair of breeches when he felt the change. Someone was near. Hedidn't know how he knew. He just did. He pulled the clean tunicinto place and shrugged into his vest, not bothering to dry off therest of the way. Shaking the moisture from his hair, he scanned theshadows. His crooked eye would have thrown him off tsimikin ago, buthe'd learned to ignore distractions.

Another intense scanrevealed a shadow unlike its surroundings. Not very human, butcertainly not a plant.

"Who's there?"Outh'n's voice shook and he chided himself. How could a cowardprove his worth to a warrior Guardian?

The shadow moved,grew larger, though not by much. If this was Serafin, she was but ayoungling, possibly younger than himself, though he knew height wasno indication of age. One of his relatives had seen ten moretsimikin than he and was a full head and shoulders shorter. It wasbest to err on the side of caution.

Shouldhe call out again? Outh'n opted to hold his tongue. The personmoved toward him. Why would they do that if they hadn't heard him?Patience may be valued here and he was certain caution was needed, sohe quieted the clamor in his mind. Whatever was coming, whoeverwas, he wanted to be ready.

"You can relax,Outh'n Durr." Though her voice sounded youthful, it resonatedwith the firm resolve and confidence which only came with tsimikin ofexperience. "I mean you no harm." There was a definite pausebefore she added, "Yet."

When she steppedinto the dim light which remained of the dawning, a slight, wiryfigure, still in formative tsimikin, filled his vision. From hersun-streaked blond hair cropped short and spiking in all directions,to the short hide boots which covered her dainty feet, she hardlylooked like Guardian material. Her eyes were almond shaped and themost brilliant blue-green he'd ever seen. Clothing resemblingleaves and roots scattered on the ground made it difficult to spother even as she took a step closer. If she was to lay down, she'dlikely disappear. Her skin, though pale, had been smudged with dirtand clay, the darker clay around her eyes making them shine even morebrilliantly.

"Serafin?" Thesqueak which came out of his was nothing close to what Outh'n wasaiming for. Heat rushed into his cheeks and ears.

She nodded.