Page 75 of Ruby
I don’t think there’s a human that can match this level of commitment.
Azoeul coughs, getting our attention.
“I could not find Ree or her beast, but I followed the trail of the hunters. It seems as though they have become the hunted. There’s a pile of corpses in that direction,” he says, pointing behind him.
“Did you see what was hunting them?” I ask, my fears of a giant predator returning.
“I did not. But we should be safe for now. I found a trail leading away that might be Ree. We should follow that one.”
We agree and my constant itching catches Azoeul’s attention.
“There are more feathers now,” he comments.
“Yes,” I respond, trying not to show any emotion about the fact. If I react too harshly, it might reflect poorly on Szhe’ka. I cannot make it look like I find this repulsive.
“Do you think you will be able to take flight if you grow more?”
I snort in response.
Now he’s really just having a laugh. I’ll probably end up looking like a dodo bird.
“I doubt it. They just itch,” I respond, scratching in tandem. I feel Szhe’ka’s grip tighten so I turn to him.
“Does it hurt?” he sings softly.
“I am fine,” I sing back, rubbing his hand.
There’s guilt in his song, although none of it is his fault.
Azoeul rises and disappears into the trees without a word. We’re already used to him just leaving so we don’t question it. He will be back soon enough.
“Szhe’ka,” I sing his name. “Did you… hate it?” I ask, picking my words carefully. “When I kissed you.”
He is quiet for a second and I begin to wonder if he hated it and I am a giant creep.
“I liked it. Very much.”
His words send relief flooding through my body. I’m glad he liked it. Otherwise, it’ll be pretty awkward going forward. I’ve never felt anxiety like this before. It’s a strange, unfamiliar feeling, like a marching band in my stomach. It’s not all bad though.
Azoeul returns soon after, the supplies we abandoned when the hunters came in his furry arms. It’s quiet, save for some requests from Azoeul and Szhe’ka’s occasional sighs. When we’re all done getting ourselves resituated, we settle down and eat lunch. I’m starting to get used to this simple, domestic life.
Once we’re done, Szhe’ka has recovered enough strength to stand and stretch his limbs.
“Azoeul, do you think there is a large predator in these woods?”
“Perhaps. I have yet to run into one yet. The hunters have been stomping through these lands in search of us so anything living, save for the birds, should have found new shelter.”
“Is that so?” I muse, not sure what else to say to him.
I don’t like how quiet it is. But I can’t say anything right now because the itch has spread to my throat. It feels like there’s bubbling hot liquid in my throat melting through and, threatening to burst out.
Szhe’ka is the first to notice there’s something wrong with me. He reaches to touch my face, asking me what was happening. I opened my mouth to explain to him but instead of words, a lump of hot coals launches itself from my throat, landing directly on Szhe’ka’s plume.
All of our eyes widen when we discover it wasn’t coal but… acid?
It rapidly works its way through Szhe’ka’s plume, burning off the beautiful feathers and leaving him exposed. He screeches as the acid meets flesh, a sizzling sound hissing through the air. The panic that follows after is unreal.
I scoot back while Azoeul reaches forward with some leaves, trying to stop the acid from causing more damage. They both charge toward water, both disappearing in a flurry of yellow and black. I chase after, but I soon lose sight of them in the dense coverage of trees and leaves.
