I bet she was. When you’re used to a birth giving you an egg with what is effectively a five year old, a squirming, wailing, non-verbal little human baby is going to be a shock. I guess they’re lucky it happens the way it does, since none of the males could breast-feed, and the environment is so dangerous. It’s just likehow prey animals will stand minutes after they’ve been born because you never know when a predator might show up.
No wonder Aloryk had looked so confused when meeting Nova that first night. The Trixikka get givenchildren, not babies.Is that luck?I ask myself, squinting up at the huge temple in front of me.Or is it design?
And if it’s the latter…whois doing the designing?
“Do you think Bea’s ok?” Chastity asks a little later while we’re being escorted back to the village, leaving the mysteries of the weird temple behind. “I really didn’t mean to embarrass her like that. Sometimes my mouth runs away with me.” I glance over at the redhead to see her ducking and cringing to herself. I don’t think anyone expected Zyntarr to react that way.
“She’s fine,” Serena answers, pointing as we near the village. “See?”
Looking off to where Serena had gestured, I can see Bea walking with Zyntarr following on behind. She’s got what looks like thick red mud coating her arms and legs, all the way up to her elbows and knees. Zyntarr is the same, although he also hefts a long plank of flat wood across one shoulder with huge dollops of heavy clay balanced all along it. Ready for his little Bea to use.
“Ooh! She said she was going to do arts and crafts with the little Trixikka boys between their flying lessons,” Dove explains. “Shall we join them?”
It turns out I’m not too bad at pottery. Sure, nothing looked professional or completely smooth like from a potter’s wheel, but it had been fun and a creative outlet that I really, really craved since waking up on this strange planet. The little Trixikka boys were cute, too. The older ones; the ones closest to, and going through puberty - assuming that’s a thing for the Trixikka - acted a lot like mini versions of the adults. Meaning, they stared… a lot. Bea had helped one of them to make a handle for a jug and the poor kid lit up like firework, his skin-stars givingaway his excitement while he opened his wings as wide as he could like he was trying to impress her with their span. The younger ones seem a little less in awe of us human girls and just want to play around with the sticky, squelchy clay. Which was fine by me, right up until the point they started making a game of slapping clay-y hands on each-other’s faces.
“Oh, my God, this is chaos!” Bea says, standing in the middle of the ruckus as boys of all ages now join in the game. Zyntarr comes to stand beside her, surveying the surrounding mayhem with the surliest scowl fixed on his face. He opens his mouth as if to bellow out orders for the kids to stop, but Bea puts a hand on his forearm that makes him freeze. “Let them blow off a little steam for a while longer. It’s not hurting anyone.”
“But-” Zyntarr’s words cut off, and the bedlam of boys and clay comes skidding to a halt. Someone had thrown a big glob of the red mud. And it landed square on the chest of Zyntarr. He looks down at the mess. Everyone else does, too. We all watch as that clump of clay slowly slides down his pecks, slumps down his scarred abs and then splats onto the ground at his feet with a soft, wet thudding sound.
It feels like all the little Trixikka boys are holding their breath. Like this huge, one-eyed warrior is about to go ape-shit on whoever dared lob that bit of clay at him.
Instead, Bea giggles.
The sound is light and fills the silence.
The giggle itself must have been as unexpected for Bea as it had been for everyone else, because both her hands come up to cover her mouth and her eyes go wide.
She can’t help herself, though. The giggling starts up again, this time muffled behind her palms.
Zyntarr’s scowl melts before our eyes and for the very first time, I see his mouth curve into a smile. Everyone remains still while we watch him duck and scoop up the handful of thickclay at his feet. “This amuses you, does it, Bea?” he says in a low voice, straightening but then taking up a stance of attack. Bea nods her head, her eyes still shining with her suppressed laughter as she takes a few blind steps away from him. Zyntarr’s tail flicks left, then right. “Run, little female,” he growls, the thrill of the chase twinkling in his one uncovered eye.
Bea squeals, her laughter now all consuming as she scrambles away. Zyntarr gives her a full five seconds before he launches himself after her, an act that seemed to signal to all the little Trixikka boys that throwing clay at anyone is now fair game.
Mud starts to fly everywhere, and all around, a cacophony of children’s delighted shouts erupts.
“Oh, hell no,” Alana says, clutching her baby and moving from the thick of the clay-fight. She hadn’t really joined in much when it had all been calm and we’d actually been making things, what with having to hold little baby Nova. But she’d also said the only creativity she possesses comes out to play in the bedroom, and she can’t make pots and plates for shit.
She stands to the side watching the battle unfold with a smile on her face, though.
A gaggle of little Trixikka boys descend upon Chastity and Serena, but they manage to duck behind the purple boulders that I’ve heard Aloryk call ‘sitting rocks’. Some of the boys take to the air and begin to dive-bomb Dove and I, making us scream and squeal. “This way!” Dove grins, reaching back for me so we can make a run for Chastity and Serena’s hide-out.
Thinking on my feet, I drop her hand briefly to dash back to the supply of clay, scooping a whole armful up to my chest. “I’ve got the ammo!”
“Yes!” Chastity smiles like a madwoman when we reach them, lunging forward to get a handful of soft, squidgy clay. “You’re goingdown, birdboys!”
We manage to lob a few handfuls of clay over our shelter, and some of them land, a few just go splatting against the dry ground. Some of the elder Trixikka stand to the side, looking like they want to intervene, but a couple of them actually join in, directing the boys over to the opposing cluster of sitting rocks, telling them to use them to shield themselves from our attacks.
“Hey, no fair!” Chastity shouts as a dozen pre-teen Trixikka launch into the skies and drop clumps of clay on us from above. “You guys can fly!”
A small group of the warrior-type guys - the ones like Aloryk, the Protectors - step up behind us. “You may use my wings for any purpose, female,” one of them says to Chastity.
She grins back at him and practically hops into his arms with a glint of competitive glee in her eyes. “Let’s level the playing field!” her voice sobers a little when she then instructs, “don’t go too high, now, we don’t want to hurt ‘em.”
The Trixikka doesn’t move. He’s slack jawed as he stares down at Chastity in his arms like he can’t quite believe he gets to hold her - never mind the fact that she’s practically covered head-to-toe in sticky red clay. It takes a moment for the redhead to realize he’s gone into a bit of a daze, but once she does, she pats him on the chest. “Oh, bless your heart,” she says before she starts jerking in his arms like he’s a pony she’s trying to gee up. “Put your tongue back in, and giddy up, Feathers McGee! C’mon, get t’flappin’ now!” Once the male finally launches off, it’s with a laughing Chastity in his arms yelling‘yee haw!’
“What in the name of all the Goddesses are you doing, little female?”
The low voice appears from nowhere right beside my ear, making me jump and gasp.
