"Eeri!!!"
The Fyros was shouting his head off, but continued to pant for a few hundred yards, before screaming again:
"Eeri!!! Damn you, you filthy bodoc-head!!"
Azazor stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He had been following her tracks for days, and now he thought he saw her in the distance. She was moving fast, much faster than when they were together.
As night fell, he thought of starting a fire. The light in the night might warn the Fyrossa that he was on her heels, and she would probably wait for him, or so he hoped. Then again, the light from a fire could attract predators. Too risky, especially when alone.
"What an idea to let her go alone," he grumbled as he set off again. He could still walk at least two hours before nightfall, he had no time to waste. If only he had made the decision earlier to finally leave for Fyre… But was this a good decision? He had an amber cube, a cube that might hold a great truth about the Fire of Coriolis. It was irresponsible to take that risk, he knew. But he couldn't bring himself to let Eeri discover Fyre alone. And then… she was Uzykos' mother. His son. They had left together, they would return together.
Azazor moved forward as long as he could see where he was stepping, more and more cautiously as the night fell. When it was almost dark, he noticed a crevice in the sawdust and sat down there, axe in hand. Since they had left, they had become accustomed to the same ritual at nightfall, when they had to rest or stop in an unknown and unprotected place. Sitting down. For a moment, total silence, weapons in hand, and concentrate on the sounds, trying to imagine their distance and position in the dark. A brief isolated noise was never a bad sign, it could always be a crack of the bark. Rapid footsteps, more or less close, were often signs of wildlife around, usually herbivores, like themselves on the lookout for predators. Here, herbivores were few, so you had to concentrate rather on possible predators. In general, muffled footsteps on the bark, approaching or describing a circle around them. If after long minutes the area remained silent, they could begin to relax. For predators never wait long before signaling their presence and attacking.
When all seemed silent, he could finally close his eyes, exhausted.
***
He woke up in the same position at dawn and looked around. Everything looked different from what he had been able to watch in the dark before laying for sleep. He had not thought he had fallen asleep so close to the precipice, and now realized that only a few meters lay between him and the ravine. He stood up, stretched, and looked down at the spectacle of the desert below, once again. The desert of his ancestors, still teeming with kitins, a veritable army held back by this montain. The swarm he had experienced in the New Lands was nothing compared to the amount of kitins he could see here, and the small patch of desert he could see from here suggested him that there must be millions of them in this desert alone, if not more. Probably a number that no Fyros could ever imagine.
Quickly, he set off again, following the edge of the cliff, and after several hours of walk, he posted himself on a small hillock to observe if he could find a trace of Eeri. But nothing, she was probably already far away, ahead. He went back down and resumed his route, thinking of a better way to signal her about his presence. If only he had a firework… Or a torbak horn, it was possible to create prodigiously loud sounds by blowing into it. But nothing like that. He was walking along, a little lost in his thoughts, until he heard a growl. By reflex, he grabbed his axe and stopped.
A cuttler, in front of him, was looking at him with hungry eyes, a sort of dusty slime on its lips. Its color blended with the sawdust of the ridge.
"ramèch, I sure needed that…"
He looked around, knowing that a cuttler never comes alone. He guessed a second one, slightly behind on his left, in the shadows. Two of them? Too easy. He clutched his axe and prepared for the assault. Attack the first one, and be ready to parry the fangs of the one who would come from behind, if possible with a blow of his axe. However, his attention was disturbed by something, another presence. A third cuttler? He wasn't sure. The predator, in front of him, had not yet attacked him, seeming also to hesitate. It was then that a terrible cry was heard. Eeri emerged from the bank and rushed at the animal, daggers in hand.
"Gruuuuhhh !"
"Eeri!"
"Watch out for the third one!"
"What third one?"
Another cuttler, which he had not seen, lunged at Azazor. The Fyros dodged, and with a great kick, sent the animal into the ravine.
"Well done! Another one behind," shouted Eeri, still struggling with the first one.
"What the hell are you doing here, I thought you were days away," replied Azazor, sending a sharp blow with his axe into his attacker's jaw, knocking out some of its teeth.
"I'm the one asking you that! I thought you were gone!"
After several blows from Azazor's axe, the third cuttler ended up running away on three legs, panting and dripping with blood, while Eeri while Eeri finished off the one she was holding down with a series of dagger blows. Azazor shrugged his shoulders.
"With two, it's easy."
"ney. So you're accompanying me?"
"ney. You didn't think I was going to leave the rediscovery of Fyre to a half-tryker Fyrossa, did you?"
"Now that's the spirit!"
Pointing to a cuttler on the ground, she added:
"Have you ever eaten cuttler?"
"dey. It must be gross, but if that's all there is to eat, I'm not going to refuse."
Eeri's face gave Azazor her usual butcher's smile, and she began to cut off the four limbs of the animal.
"You have to hammer the meat well before you roast it, it reduces the acidity and it's more digestible. Then if you have time, you cook it slowly, it's a little more tender."
"I know it tenderizes it, but the acidity?"
"Did you know that Fraiders sometimes eat tyrancha? Well, they can cook the cuttler too."
"And so they bang on it?"
"ney, you crush it and get the juice out. It's drier, but it saves you a lot of trouble."
She threw a thigh to Azazor.
"The head and the torso, they're really not edible. Moreover, this one is not very big. Anyway, we have to find a place sheltered from the wind, we can't light a fire here."
She fixed the two front limbs on her bag with a piece of cord, then threw the thigh on her shoulder.
"Let's go. We'll find a place to set up camp and coo…"
Eeri was interrupted by a roar of incredible power that shook the mountain.
"I know you're hungry, but still…"
Something was approaching. The two Fyros remained for a moment dumbfounded, motionless and silent. The rumbling sound came again, closer, and the air filled with an ominous tension. Peering over the edge of the cliff, where the noise was coming from, they saw a gigantic creature emerge, the likes of which they had never seen before.
"Put your amps on!" Azazor shouted.
"dey, YOU put on the amps. This time it's my turn to play," Eeri shouted back, snatching the axe from the Fyros' hands.
"But!"
"My axe won't do the trick ! Do as I say!"
The Fyros was shouting his head off, but continued to pant for a few hundred yards, before screaming again:
"Eeri!!! Damn you, you filthy bodoc-head!!"
Azazor stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He had been following her tracks for days, and now he thought he saw her in the distance. She was moving fast, much faster than when they were together.
As night fell, he thought of starting a fire. The light in the night might warn the Fyrossa that he was on her heels, and she would probably wait for him, or so he hoped. Then again, the light from a fire could attract predators. Too risky, especially when alone.
"What an idea to let her go alone," he grumbled as he set off again. He could still walk at least two hours before nightfall, he had no time to waste. If only he had made the decision earlier to finally leave for Fyre… But was this a good decision? He had an amber cube, a cube that might hold a great truth about the Fire of Coriolis. It was irresponsible to take that risk, he knew. But he couldn't bring himself to let Eeri discover Fyre alone. And then… she was Uzykos' mother. His son. They had left together, they would return together.
Azazor moved forward as long as he could see where he was stepping, more and more cautiously as the night fell. When it was almost dark, he noticed a crevice in the sawdust and sat down there, axe in hand. Since they had left, they had become accustomed to the same ritual at nightfall, when they had to rest or stop in an unknown and unprotected place. Sitting down. For a moment, total silence, weapons in hand, and concentrate on the sounds, trying to imagine their distance and position in the dark. A brief isolated noise was never a bad sign, it could always be a crack of the bark. Rapid footsteps, more or less close, were often signs of wildlife around, usually herbivores, like themselves on the lookout for predators. Here, herbivores were few, so you had to concentrate rather on possible predators. In general, muffled footsteps on the bark, approaching or describing a circle around them. If after long minutes the area remained silent, they could begin to relax. For predators never wait long before signaling their presence and attacking.
When all seemed silent, he could finally close his eyes, exhausted.
***
He woke up in the same position at dawn and looked around. Everything looked different from what he had been able to watch in the dark before laying for sleep. He had not thought he had fallen asleep so close to the precipice, and now realized that only a few meters lay between him and the ravine. He stood up, stretched, and looked down at the spectacle of the desert below, once again. The desert of his ancestors, still teeming with kitins, a veritable army held back by this montain. The swarm he had experienced in the New Lands was nothing compared to the amount of kitins he could see here, and the small patch of desert he could see from here suggested him that there must be millions of them in this desert alone, if not more. Probably a number that no Fyros could ever imagine.
Quickly, he set off again, following the edge of the cliff, and after several hours of walk, he posted himself on a small hillock to observe if he could find a trace of Eeri. But nothing, she was probably already far away, ahead. He went back down and resumed his route, thinking of a better way to signal her about his presence. If only he had a firework… Or a torbak horn, it was possible to create prodigiously loud sounds by blowing into it. But nothing like that. He was walking along, a little lost in his thoughts, until he heard a growl. By reflex, he grabbed his axe and stopped.
A cuttler, in front of him, was looking at him with hungry eyes, a sort of dusty slime on its lips. Its color blended with the sawdust of the ridge.
"ramèch, I sure needed that…"
He looked around, knowing that a cuttler never comes alone. He guessed a second one, slightly behind on his left, in the shadows. Two of them? Too easy. He clutched his axe and prepared for the assault. Attack the first one, and be ready to parry the fangs of the one who would come from behind, if possible with a blow of his axe. However, his attention was disturbed by something, another presence. A third cuttler? He wasn't sure. The predator, in front of him, had not yet attacked him, seeming also to hesitate. It was then that a terrible cry was heard. Eeri emerged from the bank and rushed at the animal, daggers in hand.
"Gruuuuhhh !"
"Eeri!"
"Watch out for the third one!"
"What third one?"
Another cuttler, which he had not seen, lunged at Azazor. The Fyros dodged, and with a great kick, sent the animal into the ravine.
"Well done! Another one behind," shouted Eeri, still struggling with the first one.
"What the hell are you doing here, I thought you were days away," replied Azazor, sending a sharp blow with his axe into his attacker's jaw, knocking out some of its teeth.
"I'm the one asking you that! I thought you were gone!"
After several blows from Azazor's axe, the third cuttler ended up running away on three legs, panting and dripping with blood, while Eeri while Eeri finished off the one she was holding down with a series of dagger blows. Azazor shrugged his shoulders.
"With two, it's easy."
"ney. So you're accompanying me?"
"ney. You didn't think I was going to leave the rediscovery of Fyre to a half-tryker Fyrossa, did you?"
"Now that's the spirit!"
Pointing to a cuttler on the ground, she added:
"Have you ever eaten cuttler?"
"dey. It must be gross, but if that's all there is to eat, I'm not going to refuse."
Eeri's face gave Azazor her usual butcher's smile, and she began to cut off the four limbs of the animal.
"You have to hammer the meat well before you roast it, it reduces the acidity and it's more digestible. Then if you have time, you cook it slowly, it's a little more tender."
"I know it tenderizes it, but the acidity?"
"Did you know that Fraiders sometimes eat tyrancha? Well, they can cook the cuttler too."
"And so they bang on it?"
"ney, you crush it and get the juice out. It's drier, but it saves you a lot of trouble."
She threw a thigh to Azazor.
"The head and the torso, they're really not edible. Moreover, this one is not very big. Anyway, we have to find a place sheltered from the wind, we can't light a fire here."
She fixed the two front limbs on her bag with a piece of cord, then threw the thigh on her shoulder.
"Let's go. We'll find a place to set up camp and coo…"
Eeri was interrupted by a roar of incredible power that shook the mountain.
"I know you're hungry, but still…"
Something was approaching. The two Fyros remained for a moment dumbfounded, motionless and silent. The rumbling sound came again, closer, and the air filled with an ominous tension. Peering over the edge of the cliff, where the noise was coming from, they saw a gigantic creature emerge, the likes of which they had never seen before.
"Put your amps on!" Azazor shouted.
"dey, YOU put on the amps. This time it's my turn to play," Eeri shouted back, snatching the axe from the Fyros' hands.
"But!"
"My axe won't do the trick ! Do as I say!"
---
Eeri"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"