I've had too many changes recently to analyze that one, so I return to treating my wounds and bite my tongue. It's probably temporary.
It fucking better be. This place will eat me alive if I go soft.
26
Drasuk
The battle hormones begin to fade, and I settle into a state of watchfulness as Kira tends her wounds.
I've never hated the genali more than I do right now. I was just saved by a tiny creature as I failed to uphold my half of our agreement. A Maj'Ra can't simply stand by while someone else defends them.
It isn't done.
I'm just as shocked she isn't pointing out my failure as I am outraged by my impotence. She should be reaming me with all kinds of insults about cowardice. I know she has a creative insult for any possible occurrence.
I would have earned every one of them.
I'd feel a lot better if she did. This is far worse. Instead, she patched me up and thanked me, and now she's acting like nothing happened.
Like I didn't just put her life at risk because I couldn't fight, which makes me feel sick on a whole other level beyond self-reproach. Some foreign sort of fear I have never experienced that centers around needing her to remain with me.
What does it mean?
I don't know what to say now.
The hiss of the spray container fills the air as she applies it to her stomach, where the creature's spiked hair has embedded itself. She winces, but keeps working, determined and focused.
Suddenly, Kira lets out an battle-fueled laugh, a sharp and unexpected sound that startles me. I don't see what's so funny about barely surviving that fight, and I can't help but tilt my head in confusion.
"Strange pet," I mutter, more to myself than to her.
I'm desperately seeking some sort of normalcy, which apparently involves poking at her to see if she'll be mean to me again.
I'm disgusted with myself.
She bristles, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Since I can't get rid of you, you might as well stop calling me a pet and just call me Kira."
I rumble out a laugh, amused by her defiance, grasping on to it like it's my last hope. "Very well, Kira. Then you can stop calling me a fumbling fornicator and use my name, too."
She smirks, mischief in her eyes. "I'll think about it."
I scoff, then fall silent, the pain in my neck minimal now thanks to her ministrations. It didn't really need to be dressed, but I enjoy the feel of her hands on me, so I said nothing.
My mind shies away from that pleasure and what it might mean.
Once she's finished, Kira suggests we move out of the area and find a place to wash up. I agree, and we head deeper into the trees, leaving the divide between desert and forest behind us. The thick foliage provides some cover, and the air is cooler here, a welcome relief from the desert's oppressive heat.
We walk in relative silence for a short while, my ears pulsing as I listen more intently to avoid a repeat of the last encounter.
I'll need to kill something, preferably brutally, to get the foul taste of failure out of my mouth, but for now we should nurse our wounds and get our focus back.
The silence stretches on, punctuated only by the rhythmic crunch of our feet on the damp forest floor. The dense foliage overhead creates a dappled light, casting swirling shadows on the mossy ground.
I'm startled when she starts speaking again. "Your wound is already closing. Do draks really heal that fast?"
"Not naturally. We have excellent regeneration, but it's helped along by nanites."
She grunts. "Did they put those in me? Because I'm healing faster than normal."
