She had not left the night before. This I found with a pail of milk in either hand, eyebrows raised as Ishila stumbled from the old house. Sleepy still, her eyes bleary and posture slumped, the orc gave a sheepish wave in my general direction as I returned from the fields, chores finished and another day of harvest ahead of .
Up till the wee hours of morning? I guessed, tone wry. It took her a few monts to reply. Minutes in which I stowed away the mornings load and began to prepare for the day. Breakfast was a hearty affair, given that I preferred to consu my food now for a shorter break co noon. Artyom stomped from the house behind her, a positively foul expression distorting his features.
One could add up the sum total of what had happened the night before and perhaps co close.
Its not what yah think. Ishila rubbed her eyes and cracked a wistful smile. We were only talkin.
Chatter sowhere else next ti, yes-yes. The felinid hissed.
To say everyone was sore -one way or another- would be an understatent. Myself excluded sowhat, Gol and Artyom definitely felt the pace of the past few days, and Ishila was still in recovery. My own body only lightly felt the strain, but I was blessed with unrivaled physique and relentless endurance by virtue of being a minotaur. An unfair advantage I had wholly co to enjoy. Relish even.
The thought of returning to a weak, frail human form no longer interested , I found in a sudden, stark mont of clarity. I fortable within my new body. In enjoynt of it, even.
A slight cough from Ishila interrupted this mont of self-appreciation as the orc held out a small bowl. I realized my ladle had frozen halfway through the air, about to serve up so leftover stew for breakfast. A good, healthy al, but one I feared would not quite get everyone ready for the day. Sore muscles and all those other worries that did not overmuch trouble .
One very short internal debate later, I stood and abruptly made my way to the garden. Watered by now-gone blood the cleric-shine valiantly regrew precious petals. Pale, silky things that promised great profit. More than that, they could save lives. The wound inflicted by Ishilas father had already healed, rendering the plant whole once more.
Without a fresh source in sight, I sighed and drew the knife. Heartbeats later, it supped on my blood, sared across its form as I gently plucked off a few of the larger petals with another, cleaner finger.
These I passed out among my friends and helpers as I returned, with instructions to consu. Perhaps a pricy action to alleviate so soreness, but I would rather they be happy and healthy than try to pinch a few coins more.
At so point, I should have realized I never saw Lerish coming, nor did a scent fill my nostrils. Instead, the huntress seed to appear beside , cloaked in silence.
You look better. I grunted in an effort to hide my surprise. Startled or not, I was determined to get used to her constant habit. A light blossod in Ishilas eyes, an one could see a smile form behind her bowl as the orc scarfed down her breakfast.
Hmmm. Was all I was returned. Little expected, little given. No one had ever accused Lerish of being a fascinating conversationalist.
Off to the hunt once more?
Soon. Here for a bit.
The slight grin upon my features were all the comnt I deigned to give on that subject.
While I have your attention, The conversation veered off-track and presented her with a bowl. It was seized from my grasp, sniffed for a second and then chugged down with all haste.
There was sothing I had a mind to ask of you. I continued undeterred. A favor, in fact.
Mmmm. A slightly barbed tongue licked away so leftover liquid and stared flatly. For a mont, all was silent save for distant birdsong as those feathered greeted the morning sun.
Ask what you will. She shrugged.
If you ever have free ti, it would be a great boon to if you could deliver the carcasses of higher-leveled creatures. Their blood, in particular.
The single eye that gazed upon didnt so much as blink.
Sudden penchant for necromancy? Was all she asked.
Dont think Ma and Pa will particularly appreciate the attention that brings. Ishila winced quietly into her own bowl.
The conclusions you leap to wound . I sighed. But no, it is for sothing else.
Done. Lerish spoke. After a brief pause, I found that no, I did not have to explain what it was for. There was sothing nice about knowing a person that simply could not be bothered to care.
She did not stay much longer. Naught but a few monts had passed when she stood upright, nodded to everyone and left in silence. A wistful look adorned Ishilas face and bright eyes followed the huntresss path.
I hate tah see her go, But I do love watchin her leave. She muttered. There was a pause, then a sudden, deep blush as it struck her everyone had heard that. Despite my most heroic efforts, a smile cracked the edges of an otherwise flat expression.
There was a collective groan shared between Gol and Artyom as I stood, ready to head off and begin my work.
A few more monts, yes-yes? The felinid pleaded with big, round eyes, I relented after a mont and told them to co when ready.
Anythin I can help with? Ishila grunted and heaved herself up. A skeptical glance showed she was not gifted at hiding her stiffness.
Youre still healing up. I stated the obvious.
Yes, and? The lass tossed back. I can still work. Need to repay you sohow.
Look. She continued after a mont. You healed . Kept from havin to walk round for the rest of my life with achin scars and a broken body. Thats no small thing. Im whole because of you. Sothin words cant really appreciate. So dont be stubborn and just let help to show so small part of the gratitude I owe ya.
After a mont to fully appreciate what the orc had just said, I grinned and clasped my hands.
So, how much do you threshing?
It didnt take long for to have Ishila positioned over a large sheet covered by stocks of grains. Flail in hand, she groaned, stretched her back and began to beat away. No instructions were needed, and after a few monts of observing her motions, I was satisfied. She knew what to do, and would likely have them ready for winnowing before the day was out. The flail rose and fell as she beat the oats, the blows separating the grain and straw through brute force.
A long and enjoying day of repetitive labour set before her, I made myself scarce and trotted back towards the fields. With one stripped bare, another awaited . Oats were still the dominant crop here, with sections of barley and wheat also planted.
All would serve to feed the cattle.
My eyes drifted across the road where said cows road the pasture, and another smile found its path unto my face. The horse that had been fed cleric-shine petals just the night before was not doing better. That would have grandly undersold how full of life it seed at the mont, being chased around the pasture by the taur-cows, having made an annoyance of itself through overeager exuberance.
All was indeed well.
Thoughts firmly set aside, I hefted the scythe, sighed at the extraordinary full field before and got the cutting. Even with the stream having been cut off days ago, the ground was still soft beneath my hooves. Every step sunk into the rich, loamy earth as stocks fell around . At first, I worried about how badly I was displacing the earth. Then it dawned upon that I would likely plow it before the next crop anyway.
Another irrational worry overco, I released a grunt of contention and felled another sweep of oats. With little to distract , I made steady progress in both the cuts and stacking. This field thankfully lacked any monster plants, and so I lacked the need to slow down and carefully work around them. All of the seeds the an had given had been spread into a single field.
With a frown, I cast my mind back and attempted to rember sothing, anything. An expression that only deepened as I attempted to co up with any sorts of features or look. Nothing. Less than that, there was a void within my mory, one that troubled . I had never been good with nas, but I could rember a face for a lifeti. But here, not a single thing about the rchant that had sold this farm and these seeds could be recalled.
A raven cawed at the treetops, almost as if to mock my concentration and lack of results.
Sour was the expression I leveraged at it, yet it only laughed harder. One of Tehaliss eyes, here to keep watch on her daughter? If so, it was situated terribly for that. It seed intent to gaze upon rather than Ishila who remained hard at work across the entire yard. A brown, puffed-up body made it larger than any sort of darker-feathered raven I had seen before, and yet the mix of features was unmistakable.
Large, dull wings rested against its body and calloused claws dug into the branch it imperiously perched upon. Straw covered its body, jutting out from between feathers. It seed, in every way, at ho on a farm.
A slight tilt of its head brought one gleaming eye towards , and for so godsforsaken reason, I found myself having staring down a raven, refusing to blink. Neither of us moved, eyes locked upon each other as sweat ran beneath my coat of short fur, teased out my the suns heat. A droplet ran directly across my eyeball, and it demanded willpower supre not to blink.
Heartbeat after heartbeat marched on, each one slower than the last. I did not quite know how I had wrapped myself in this foolishness, but at this point, I refused to leave.
A thrown-back head and sharp, raucous caw signaled my victory. Wings spread wide and flapped overhead were all the congratulations I received. Even then, it simply sat on high, content to watch as I shook my head and got back to work.
And yet, the Gods Above were not content to simply let continue on with my life.
The first signal I received was the raven. Wings spread into an upright fan, it began to caw incessantly. I glared at it in annoyance, debating on trying out my rock-flinging skills. I stopped that train of thought as my eyes dipped down from the treetops and saw the forms that erged.
Stonemongers.
They ca in small groups, weapons in hand. Long, sinous forms that broke from the forest in silence, slinking from the undergrowth towards .
With no weapon in hand, I was caught flatfooted. But I was a minotaur, and they were small, frail things. My hands would be enough. If it ca to that.
Without the armant of choice close by, I hefted the scythe and watched them approach. A shout back across the yard caught the others attention, and Gols snarls quickly sounded through the area.
And then they stopped, the scattered groups coming to a halt as a singular, larger Stonemonger approached.
It knelt before and offered up what looked to be gems in hand, knees buried in the dirt and clawed hands held outstretched.
For my part, I simply stood there, dumbfounded. This was not at all what I had expected.
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