Short Stories 4: Perspective

It's A Big World
Everyone was dead, and soon I would be too.  Every muscle in my body burned, exhaustion and fatigue pressing at the back of my eyes, begging me to rest, and it took every ounce of remaining will to keep myself alert.

My back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree, the surrounding forest speckled with spots where the morning sun broke through the canopy, refracting beautifully where dew collected on the huge fronds of strange and fantastic plants, occasional drops falling to land on my face, the feel of cool water oddly pleasant.  Birds sang their cheery morning songs, oblivious or indifferent to the doomed human intruder.   

The tight black body-suit I wore was nearly as tattered and frayed as my nerves, the fabric torn in several places by thorns and other sharp obstacles, making me look depressingly like one of those stupid fairytale heroines whose clothes always tore at the slightest provocation.  Unlike the fairy-tales, those rips were accompanied by nasty cuts and gashes, my face stained with sweat and dirt and more than a few tears, and my dark hair a mess of tangles.  Using the cheap, lower-quality material had clearly been another stupid error, but there are no do-overs in Felarya

My first time setting foot outside the range of the Isolon Eye, and this is how it would end.  I had been so sure, so confident in those endless, endless hours of training, that nothing would be able to catch me.  I was better, I was special, not destined for an unremarkable death in the belly of some strange monster.  It was cold comfort that everyone else in the expedition had died in that naga's stomach nearly 24 hours ago, while I alone eluded her.  So far.  She was close now, but no matter where I looked, how I listened, the only trace of her I could perceive was occasional, brief quieting of the birdsong each time she moved.

I closed my eyes, just to rest them for a few seconds, but was interrupted by a very clear rustle of leaves.  My eyes snapped open to see a hand far bigger than me striking down out of nowhere.  Everything went sharp and clear as a burst of adrenaline fueled my motion.  I ducked, folding nearly flat against the ground, the noise of the predator's hand striking the tree horribly close.  I rolled, twisting back up onto my feet, but I was too stiff, too exhausted.  I tripped.   Crying out in despair, I caught myself on hand's and knees, but it was too little, too late.  Seconds passed, but I didn't feel that horrible hand enclose my body, and I managed to stumble almost drunkenly to my feet.  The naga was right there, making no effort to hide herself, just looking down expectantly with those huge, pitiless brown eyes, a small smile gracing her somehow perfect lips.

"You're really good at dodging!  This was the most fun I've had hunting in ages!"  the malevolent creature chirped, her tone so casual it was surreal.  Then she just waited, the naked, tanned flesh of her torso wreathed by green foliage, her snake half lost among the plants.  She was just playing now, like a cat with a mouse, intent on extracting as much satisfaction from the final bits of the hunt as possible.

"Screw you!"  My voice was hoarse and cracked with fear, my whole body shaking, on the very brink of collapse, but I was resolved not to cry or beg for mercy like the others had . . . it had done them little enough good anyway.

I turned, seeing the stunning, crystalline surface of the Jewel River rippling and glittering in the sun, only a few dozen yards away.  I'd come a lot farther that I realized, and some stupid, irrational part of me wanted, needed to reach the river then.  To wash away some of the sweat and grime that covered me, and feel the cool, refreshing water just once more.  One last tiny, irrelevant victory before the inevitable, lethal failure.

I ran, legs somehow pumping despite the overwhelming exhaustion, the naga letting out a little whoop of pleasure as she surged forth to snatch me up.  I didn't look back, but a flicker of shadow telegraphed the naga's strike clear enough.  I hurled myself to the side, a titanic hand snatching at the air a few feet away, but I didn't stop to watch, righting my course and taking a flying leap off the bank, for a moment the whole universe transformed into gorgeous, shining blue.

The bracing wash of cold felt like heaven, and in that brief, transcendent moment I was the victor, the naga some distant, irrelevant memory.  I didn't bother trying to swim away, or even ascend back to the surface; there was no point.  Instead, I opened my eyes, vision a blur under the water, but what I saw nearly made me inhale a lungful of water.  The biggest, bluest, most beautiful pair of eyes I had ever seen staring at me with an expression of surprise and confusion.  Was I so far gone I was hallucinating?  Any further thoughts were snatched away as darkness enveloped me, dragging me out of the water's cool embrace back into the air.

I coughed and sputtered, laying waterlogged and helpless in the naga's hand, staring up into its pitiless eyes, currently shining with pleasure.  My breathing hitched, and rather than my life flashing before my eyes, all the things I hadn't had a chance to do swam up in my mind.  Never had a whirlwind romance.  Never gotten drunk enough to pass out.  Never told my uncle how much I loved him.  Never had a 20th birthday . . .

"Mmmn, you better be worth the work,"  the naga said, her voice soft, lifting me up and opening her terrible mouth wide.  The pink, glistening cavern was amoung the least reassuring sights of my life, and for some reason in that moment I remembered, vividly, a man trying to sell me a vishmitali, explaining how it could be used to choke a predator in those precious seconds between mouth and stomach.  I had laughed at him, saying I had no intention of getting that close.  It seemed a world, a lifetime away.

"Chiilia!  What are you doing!?"  A clear voice rang out, filled with surprise and dismay.  The naga froze for a moment, and then closed mouth.

"Er, I'm . . . I can explain, I was just-"

"Don't lie to me, you were about to eat her, weren't you?"  

I craned my neck to look back at the river, where the voice originated, terrified and confused in equal parts.  Those blue eyes were back, attached to a beautiful face, currently looking somehow both sad and angry.  She was waist-deep in the river, her flesh light blue and almost iridescent in the sun.  She also looked slightly . . . translucent?  



The Little Things
"Look girl, I really, really tried to humor you, but it's stupid!  Why are you making such a big deal about this?"  Chiilia said, tone filled with exasperation.  I looked straight into her eyes, searching for some hint of understanding, or even desire to understand.  There was none.  Not that I could blame her, the truth could be a cruel thing, and it had nearly destroyed me.  I had always been . . . fragile, though I hadn't known it.

"But you promised.  You lied to me."

"I know, and I'm sorry.  I just thought . . . I could do it where you wouldn't see.  Until you got over this . . . phase.  It's not like I'm hurting anyone."  The remorse on her face was so genuine, yet so utterly misplaced I suppressed the urge laugh.  Or cry.

"Please, Chiilia, just put her down."

". . . No.  No, I won't!  You can do whatever you want, and I'd never judge you, so why can't you give me the same courtesy?  No.  I will not be bullied into just doing whatever you say!  I worked hard to catch this, and I'm going to enjoy it."  The little human in Chiilia's hand looked back and forth between the two of us, breathing hard, eyes wide with terror.  

"No, you are not.  Please, I don't want to hurt you."

"What the hell happened to you?  You used to be so fun . . . happy.  And now you're just . . . I don't know.  It's like I don't even know you anymore."

"I mean it!  Put her down."  I pulled myself up out of the water, displayed my height advantage over Chiilia.  I did my best to be intimidating, despite the fact she outweighed me be quite a bit, due to her tail, and I had no natural weaponry to speak of.  She'd probably crush me in a real fight.  Literally.

"So . . . what?  You're just going to beat me up if I don't give you your way?  Is that where we're at, now?"

"I tried to explain this to you . . ."

"And it was stupid!  'Humans are just like us'?  Come on!  I thought you were joking at first.  Just look at it."  Chiilia held out her hand containing the terrified human for emphasis.  I wasn't likely to get a better shot, so I lunged.  Chiilia yelped and pulled her arm back, so I just continued the assault, barreling into her so that we both crashed to the ground in a tangle.

"Agkh!  Are you insane?!  Let-urk!"  Chiilia's tail lashed, looping reflexively around my waist in its search for purchase.  The pressure, even from a single coil when she wasn't trying to hurt me was painful, crushing the breath from my lungs.  But the destruction of my body would not be lethal for me.

I acted on impulse, twisting to pin her under me, her shocked, hurt eyes meeting mine for a moment . . . before I hit her in the face.  Hard.  She made a strangled sound, more indicative of emotional pain than physical, and I ignored the sickening guilt that rose up in the pit of my stomach.  Taking hold of the arm with the human by the wrist, I wrenched it until she cried out in pain, snatching the human, now screaming in blind fear, away as gently as I could.

Chiilia probably could have just constricted me until I passed out and taken her back, but she didn't.  Instead she writhed, shoving and squirming away from me as though my touch burned her, only stopping when she was well out of reach.  She was breathing hard, tears in her eyes, holding one hand to her mouth, where she seemed to be bleeding slightly.  Her face held an expression of utter hurt and betrayal, as though her best friend had attacked her over nothing.  And she would probably spend her whole life thinking that was exactly what happened.

"W-why?  I . . . I thought we were friends . . ."  her voice broke, unsteady with emotion.  I wanted to cry.  To go over and hug her, apologize, beg for forgiveness.  Tell her I had lost my mind, or something.  Anything.  But it could never go back to the way things were.  And apparently, she couldn't follow where I was going.

"We were," I said softly, not trusting my voice with anything more complex.  The stricken look on her face broke my heart, but mercifully she turned away quickly, the sound of her sobs as she slithered back into the jungle making me feel like a monster.  Apparently, no matter what I did, in the end I was always the monster.  Perhaps it was karma, if such a thing exists.

I finally tore my eyes away from the spot Chiilia had been, looking down at the tiny, fragile, vulnerable creature in my hand.  I was struck; suddenly, painfully reminded of that young woman on the beach, nearly a year ago.  They didn't look alike at all, the girl in the present wearing a tight, dark full-body covering, her hair equally dark, in contrast to the wispy blonde of the girl from a year ago.  Still, there was a fire in her eyes, behind the fear and hurt, a zest for life perhaps, including all the dangers inherent in it, that they seemed to share.  She stared back up at me, and swallowed.

"You don't have to be afraid, I won't hurt you.  Are you from Negav?"  She nodded, warily, a little bit of hopefulness creeping into her features.  Perhaps it would be enough.  Perhaps for both of us.

==================================

The tiny human had done little besides sleep, eat, and occasionally try to pretend she wasn't crying in the day since I had rescued her, and said even less.  She was currently sitting, legs tucked up against her chest, looking out at the still night from the safety of my cupped hands, as I waded along the shallow bank of the Shard River.  We would reach the outer radius of the Isolon Eye soon enough, though I wondered if she was fit for even the short, comparatively safe trip from there back to Negav.

The dark and loneliness weighted heavily on me, and the fight with Chiilia kept playing over and over in my head.  If I had just tried to reason with her more, explain it better . . . instead of dwelling, I returned my attention to the person sitting in my hands.  "How are you feeling?" I ventured.  "Better?  I'm sorry I couldn't find you anything but ribbon grass to eat, but I didn't think leaving you alone was-"

"Your thumb goes on the outside," she said, voice quiet, deadpan.  More words than she'd uttered in the 24 hours since our meeting.

I blinked.  "What?"

"Of your fist.  When you punch something, you put your thumb on the outside of your fist.  You'll hurt yourself otherwise."  The human held up her miniscule hand, balled up in a fist to show me.

I blinked again.  "Oh."

"And . . . you need to move your body with the strike.  Otherwise you don't have any power."  She stood up now, performing a couple of quick punches to demonstrate.  They were such tiny, harmless motions from a tiny, fragile being it was hard not to laugh, and yet . . . the confrontation with Chiilia would have ended very differently had she been trying to hurt me.  Perhaps . . .

"I see.  It's about time I stopped for a rest anyway, so maybe you could show me some more-"

"Thank you."  Her voice cracked a little, and she looked away, but those two simple words, and the emotion behind them, somehow made the pain and guilt over Chiilia so much more bearable.

"You're welcome."