“Courting,” she repeated, her abdomen bobbing and sending her beads rattling. “How ridiculous. You are one web, one breath, one nest, one being. You are one.”
I swallowed.
She patted my cheek, the pads on her hand soft yet sticky from her fine hair. “I do not mean to push, Wyn, but our breath is short. One day will be one day too late. Every breath, every tremble of the web is to be treasured because all too soon those shakes will vanish, and you will wish they’d come back.”
“I understand.”
Her mandibles clacked, this time in humor. “I doubt that. You are young and foolish. It’s the way of youth. But I have a gift for you and your mate.”
“You do?” I asked, my hand over my soul.
“Indeed. To decorate your fine nest.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Not yet,” she replied and vanished behind the bead curtain that blocked the front of her shop from the back—her kitchen, her private space.
When she came back, I took a sharp inhale. She held out a luxurious blanket. It was woven with the strands of her own web. The strands had been carefully dyed and woven together into an intricate geometric pattern. Foblen woven art was highly prized, and they rarely gave it away to anyone outside of their species.
“I can’t,” I told her and stepped back.
“You can.” She ran one of her front legs over the masterpiece. “This was freely made and is freely given. I care for your breath, Wyn, and this shall keep your nest comfortable.”
“Kel’yeena,” I said, shaking my head in awe.
She ran her leg over the pattern. “It is woven in your own colors. The green, gold, and white of your mate as well as thepink, purple, and blue of you. I even have hints of your skin tones that peek around your and his scales.”
I gently accepted the blanket; it was like silk beneath my fingers. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, young child. Soon you shall step into your own nest and be a child no longer.”
Much like drakcol, the foblix species believed you only became an adult when you took a mate.
“Thank you,” I repeated.
“Now I shall free you, for your friends have arrived.” She motioned for me to leave, and I stepped back, clutching the blanket close to my soul. The gift had been impossibly generous of her; I could hardly believe it. The blanket would have to go to Monqilcolnen’s quarters because it wouldn’t fit on my small bunk.
I easily caught sight of Seth, Urgg, and Bartholomew at our usual table. I asked Kel’yeena for two of Seth’s usual order and two of her spiciest soup in a loud voice, which she acknowledged, before heading over to them.
“What’s that?” Urgg asked, pouring a glass of maroon graugg for me.
I stared at the alcohol. Kel’yeena didn’t serve it. No foblix drank alcohol or took stimulants or any kind of mind-altering drugs. Urgg had to have brought it with them.
At my glance, Urgg said, “We have to celebrate Bartholomew joining us.” They slapped Bartholomew’s back, and he grunted.
“Ow,” he said, and both Urgg and I stared at him. I had no idea what that noise meant, and NAID hadn’t offered a translation.
“You hurt him,” Seth offered before taking a drink.
“Ah, I’m sorry! Humans are so small, though you’re bigger than Seth, in height at least,” Urgg commented, patting Bartholomew again but much more softly.
“Hey,” Seth complained.
“I wasn’t insulting you,” Urgg said, practically yelling in their halting voice. “I quite like your figure. Nice and girthy like a barbarus. Though yours is also nice, Bartholomew. Everyone looks quite lovely.”
I burst into laughter. “Better than Talvax?”
Urgg slammed the table with a fist, making Seth leap and dump his drink on himself. Urgg pointed a thick finger at my face and said, “No one is prettier than Talvax.”
