“Come on, Obliosa, we’re leaving. The air here has become most foul.”
The two of them strode off, heads high as though they’d somehow come out on top of the altercation. Ziana saw the one called Broodius glance to his right and turned her head.
“Oh,” she said, realizing what had spurred him to back down in such an odd manner, noting a group of spectators on a platform watching them from a distance. A group which the elites had clearly seen as well. Their victorious body language was all for show.
“What were you doing?” Dorrin asked, irritated but acting calm. “You are acting a fool.”
“I was just trying to have a drink.”
He shook his head for the umpteenth time and sighed. “Like a child,” he grumbled, removing another pouch from the box and handing it to her. “Like this,” he said, putting the raised top of his pouch to his full lips. It opened upon contact, allowing him to drink deep, then sealed up tight when he pulled it away from his mouth.
“It opens on its own?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”
“Wow. Alien tech.”
“You considerthistechnology? How utterly odd.”
“Maybe, but on my world, we have to open them manually.”
“Manually?”
“We twist open the tops, then seal them back up by hand when we’re done.”
“Byhand? But why?”
“It’s just how it’s done.”
The imposing alien shook his head with a mix of surprise, disappointment, and disbelief.
“How utterly inelegant,” he mused. “How…primitive.”
“Hey, we’re not primitive just because we open bottles differently.”
“Sure, whatever you want to believe. But irrespective of your lack of what we would consider the most basic of container opening skills, you must nevertheless drink. You need to replenish your fluids. Maybe you will fail slower if properly hydrated.”
“No need to be a dick about it,” she shot back, wrapping her lips around the container, tipping it upside down before tearing open the bottom corner and downing the entire package in a single gulp.
Nowthatgave him pause. Apparently, shotgunning was not a pastime on this world. Normally, she’d not be showing off those tricks from her college days, but the guy had pissed her off, and she really couldn’t think of anything else to do to shut him up. And, incredibly, this worked, at least for a moment.
His surprise wore off quick enough, and they were soon back at it, running from training area to training area, following Dorrin’s credo ofwe never walk. It was obnoxious, but his fitness was undeniable. Unfortunately, Ziana’s, while decent, was nowhere near his level.
She kept up, though, forcing herself to climb with him, swim with him, crawl under obstacles with him. But when she took a tumble from a log she was running across when her tired legs had simply had a bit too much, she also fell with him, her weight at the end of his wrist as the cable snapped taut yanking him right off his feet and down to the ground below.
“Ow! Son of a bitch,” she grumbled, brushing off a scrape where a rock had left its bloody mark. Her body was covered with them, the terrain not cushy and soft but wild and littered with rocks, sticks, and various plants that would not be comfortable to fall into.
Which, of course, she had just done.
Dorrin was back on his feet in an instant, ignoring the impact as if it were no more than a minor inconvenience. He hauled Ziana to her feet, looked her up and down, then gauged the sun’s position in the sky. He shook his head, frustrated but accepting the situation.
“You are too weak to continue,” he stated with flat displeasure. “We will cease for the day.”
“I can keep going,” she protested.
“You will only hurt yourself. More than you’ve already done, that is, and you are of no use to me if you cannot compete. Come. We will procure an early dinner before we retire to our lodging. Sleep is vital for healing,” he said, looking her up and down, shaking his head. “And I fear you will require a fair deal after this showing.”
“What are you trying to say?”
