Pee-zah.That is what her mind calls it.
Pee. Zah.
Wait. I know the first part. ‘Pee.’ The human females say that word all the time, usually right before they sprint toward the latrine holes at the back of the cavern, clutching themselves. It is a human waste function.
They named afoodafter it?
The mindspace connection pushes the image closer and it gets worse. The fat on top has gone cold and thick, like rendered grol fat left out too long. The circles of spiced meat are glistening with grease. The whole thing looks like it was cooked in a firepit and then somebody just... left it there. On purpose. And the humans apparently fight over who gets to eat it.
This will not do. Fresh, bleeding meat straight from a kill is so much better for keeping her strong.
“Do not eat the strange flat-meat,” I project gently, sending warmth toward her. “I will catch you a fresh sandfin when Ain rises.”
She sighs against my chest, nuzzling deeper into my arm. The image of the ‘pee-zah’ dissolves into a vague, contented fog of sleep. Her breathing evens out again.
But her longing for it lingers. She misses this food. It is tied to something in her memories, something safe and comfortable from her water-world.
I stare at the ceiling of the alcove.
I do not know how to make a flat disc of congealed grol fat and spiced meat. I do not have such ingredients. I do not even know what a ‘pep-eh-roh-nee’ is.
But she wants it.
So I will find a way to make it. Somehow. Even if I have to grind raw sandfin meat into flat circles, smear it with pink spore-fruit jelly, melt rendered grol fat over a hot stone, and slice kiveh root to mimic the ‘pep-eh-roh-nee’ until she declares it acceptable.
I relax, letting my head fall back against the stone wall.
Her mind is a bright, blazing fire in the center of my skull. So new. A tether of light holding me together.
She shifts in her sleep, and pieces of her dreams drift through the mindspace. Images of her world before she fell to Xiraxis.
I see endless stretches of dark, moving water. Water so vast it swallows the horizon. I see walls made of pure, flashing light in a world without sand. And structures. Smooth, shining spires reaching so high into her blue sky that strange white vapor curls around their peaks.
I see humans. Uncountable numbers of them. Females walking freely among the shining spires. So many Daughters of Ain, and weak, soft males strolling right beside them, not even guarding them. Taking their absolute abundance for granted.
It is a chaotic, terrifying, loud world. It makes no sense to me.
But something else snags in my chest. Something cold.
Those structures. The smooth, shining surface of them. I have seen it before. Not standing. Not reaching for any sky. Lying broken and half-buried in the deepest tunnels beneath the Giving Stone, where us Drakav are forbidden to go.
Thewrongnessof it sits cold in my gut. A low warning thrumming in my blood. I do not chase the thought further. Not now. Not with her warm and breathing against me.
I pull her closer, wrapping an arm securely around her waist to anchor her against my chest. Her world may be full of impossible things, but she is here now. I will not let the chaotic water-planet have her back.
Her dreams fade, and the mindspace around us settles. Without her images filling my skull, the rest of the cavern bleeds in.
The minds of my warriors. A low buzz outside my alcove. I keep my shields locked, refusing to broadcast my thoughts, but I can hear them.
They are awake.
I hear Mih-kay-lah carefully rationing the water. I hear Rok quietly grinding firebloom paste for our wounded brothers. I feel the dull, pulsing ache of their torn flesh bleeding through the mindspace.
And underneath it all, a crushing, suffocating weight.
Ah-lex.
The missing female. Ripped into the wastes by that ka’vrakt.
