Rating: PG overall, for violence and language. She's one tough cookie, is Serbindi...
Also: Implied grrl/grrl thing...if this kinda thing squicks you, kiss my ass. Elsewise, enjoy!
Long shadows criss-crossed the Amazon’s face, marking the wet branches scattered far overhead, as she carefully made her way through the slippery leaves placed underfoot. Her auburn hair whipped across her face, the wind carving a narrow path on her skin. She brushed the errant strands from her eyes, long fingers ruffling through them, as she paced between the trees. A sudden noise snapped her head up, causing her to draw the dagger.
A pale mourning dove broke through the leaves and flapped out of sight. Damn birds. Although the small grey birds were tasty, they weren’t particularly filling, and the meat was scarce. Mostly bones, she thought.
He spoke behind her, making her twinge a little. “Perhaps I should start gathering plant food, in case you cannot locate any?”
“I’ll get something,” she snapped testily. Then she sighed. “You’re right. Listen, you know how to identify plants?” He shook his head. Damn, why does it always have to be hard? “Ok, go get as many nuts and berries as you can find, don’t eat any, I’ll tell you what’s edible. Oh, and don’t eat any mushrooms either--the last thing I need is people thinking they’re fifteen feet tall.” He blinked. “Don’t ask.”
“I know enough not to eat strange plants...I’m not a child,” he replied irritably. He stalked off into the bushes.
“Well, then don’t act like one,” she muttered at his retreating form. Ai-ya. She shook her head, and returned her attention to hunting. She could hear the rushing of a stream, and perked. Fish! she thought happily. She slid the dagger back into the pouch. To hell with this, I’m going fishing. “Hey, Professor!” she called. He was perhaps 30 meters away, and turned at her voice. “There’s a small stream about a quarter-mile away. I’m going to go see if I can get us some trout.”
She paused, turning halfway towards the shelter. “Hmm...I’m concerned about Mabenti, though. I shouldn’t leave her.” Ah hell. Mab’ll be fine, she reassured herself. Still, a nagging feeling in her gut persisted, and she decided to stop by the shelter on the way to the stream...just to check up on her friend, nothing more.
She quietly pushed open the heavy door, and stepped into the room. “Mab?” she called softly, questioningly. She found the dark-haired Amazon lying curled up against her pillow, fast asleep. She smiled, and tiptoed out, closing the door behind her.
After looking after the injured Amazon, she walked the distance to the water, him trailing closely behind. It was quiet, with only the occasional birdcall lacing through the wooded partition. She strode ahead, calmly alert, keeping a relaxed but watchful eye on her surroundings. When she reached the water’s edge, she removed the belt clasping her pouch, tossing it to one side, then waded into the shallow stream. The icy water lapped around her ankles, threatening her calves, but she dutifully ignored the cold wetness, and heightened her senses. Slight movement rippled the clear surface, and a pale shape flashed just beneath. Holding her breath, she wiggled her fingers slightly under the water and...
A slippery shape attempted to elude her grasp, but to no avail, and a plump silvery fish jumped from her hands into the tall damp grass, wriggling futily on the soil. She whipped her knife out, beheaded and gutted it cleanly, then moved back into the stream, keeping ahold of the moss-covered rocks underfoot.
She spared him a glance. He stood, quite wide-eyed, looking rather...impressed. She grinned. “Never seen anyone catch a fish without a pole, eh?” she asked cheerfully. He shook his head slowly. She flashed another grin, then turned her attention back to the aquatic fauna. There was a lovely large trout that was attempting to cleverly evade her...but she was smarter than fish. Several quick motions, and more dinner lay gasping on the grass. Another round with the knife, and then she was back to the stream
Five or six fish sprawled in a pile several feet from the stream bank before she fitted the dagger back in its resting place, shaking her hair out and casually striding over to them. She bent over and scooped up the fish, the heat of noon slanting down on her. Gazing down at the bundle of slime-coated trout that slumped in her arms, she wrinkled her nose at the smell. “Ew,” she commented. “Fishy.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “They’re fish,” he responded dryly. “What did you expect?”
She half-chuckled. “I know they’re fish, that doesn’t mean I have to like the smell,” she parried back. As she said the words, one of her subject slid out of her arms and landed with a muffled squishing sound onto the toe of her boot. He slowly looked down at the sunwarmed body of the fish, then raised his head to her, quirking an eyebrow. She merely sighed, and picked up the fish again. The slippery wetness left dark blotches on her light brown leather fitted top, and she hauled the fish over her shoulder without a murmur and lugged it into the woods. He silently followed her slim frame into the bushes.
It was past noon when they returned to the cabin. Mabenti was still sleeping, as he had anticipated, her breath quiet and steady, which she was relieved to see. The shoulder still looked pretty bad, but it would heal well. Her own ankle was bothering her somewhat, but she was reluctant to admit it, and ignored the slight throbbing pain that was steadily creeping up her leg. The only sign of her discomfort was an almost-wince that flickered across her face for the shadow of an instant, then disappeared.
She discreetly sniffed the strap of her leather top, and sighed. The whole outfit smelled of fish. Scales clung haphazardly to the soft material, catching the sun’s rays overhead and causing the top to shimmer. She snorted at a mental description of herself. Serbindi, the sparkly Amazon, that’s me, she told herself, and made several abortive attempts at brushing the shiny pieces off. Hell with it. Holding her head high, she made quick strides toward the cupboards, protectively wrapping herself in the few shreds of dignity remaining. Bending to light the wood that lay angled in the stove, she watched the smoke curl, and manifest as fire, then closed the heavy metal door with a soft clang.
Picking the glimmering scales from her top, she rose and observed the fat black stove squatted in the corner for a few seconds, then turned for the fish, which had been placed in the same thick ceramic pot that she had served the rabbit in the previous night. She removed the round lid and added a few seasonings, sadly missing the sweet cream butter that she otherwise would have poured thickly on the trout, along with garlic and chives. The thought made her mouth water, but...oh well. Looks like I’ll have to do without it, she thought with a slight pang of regret. Instead she substituted tart , which she sprinkled on all three whole fish. She cocked her head to one side and took inventory of the results so far. Not bad.
Mabenti stirred, mumbling incoherantly. Serbindi poked her head around the door, and observed the petite Amazon, who rolled over in her sleep, clutching the thin coverlet to her chest, and resumed her deep sleep. Her shifted position revealed the starkness of the white bandage against the shockingly bright blood that had crusted on it, and Serbindi grimly made a mental note to change the bandage in a few minutes.
In the meanwhile, she turned her attention back to the raw, seasoned fish in the pot. Adding more coals to the fire, she quickly placed the heavy lid on the pot, and slid it into the stove.
She surveyed the kitchen, and took stock of her accomplishments. Let’s see...fishing, check. Cooking, check. Bandages... She winced. Mabenti’s leg. Whoops. She grabbed clean bandages and made her way to the bed where her friend lay prone.
She sighed. Might as well get this over with, she thought, and tapped the dark-haired woman on the shoulder, and called her name. Mabenti stirred, facing her, a sultry half-smile lighting her pale features. "Mmm..." she purred in a silky voice.
Uh-oh, Serbindi mused. Maybe this was a bad idea. Looks like she was having a very nice dream. "Mab, it’s Serbindi. Wake up," she stated in a loud, clear voice.
Mabenti’s eyes fluttered open, still half-concious. "Fayla..."
Serbindi smothered a smile. "Guess again."
This time the Amazon bolted awake, red-faced and flustered. "Oh, it’s...um, hi Ser," she mumbled, clearly embarassed.
Serbindi’s lips quirked. "It’s Ok, I won’t tell him." Besides, it’s not like the whole freakin’ tribe didn’t know, for the god’s sake, she thought wryly. She paused to clear her throat. "I have to bandage your leg," she informed Mabenti matter-of-factly.
"Oh, sure...go ahead...needs to be done, after all," the Amazon babbled. Serbindi grasped her by the shoulders and looked the Lieutenant squarely in the eye. "Mab--it’s Ok," she told her seriously.
The petite woman visibly relaxed, even attempting a half-hearted smile. "Thanks," she replied.
Serbindi unravelled the cloth. "Anytime," she grinned back. She paused and tilted her head. "Well..." she continued, reconsidering her words, and received an impish smile in return. "Heh, gotcha."
After her bandage was attended to, Mabenti slipped back into sleep. It was late afternoon, the sun sinking lower into the western sky. Around the shelter, crickets began their seranade, and Serbindi decided her own leg was in need of attending to. Casting a quick glance around, she removed her boots, wincing at the pressure that created. The expected long, ugly gash ran from her ankle, winding a path up her shin, halfway to the knee. Nice work, she complimented her late attacker. Any deeper, and you would have succeeded. She palmed a length of cloth, winding it around the leg, pausing to examine the healing wound. Stitches wove through the skin, shaping a fascinating pattern that under different circumstances she would have thought lovely, but for the fact that the pattern was twining under her skin. She sighed, tying the cloth off with a neat knot. Very nice work indeed.
Detecting his presence, she called, “It’s getting late. Dinner’s almost ready, and I changed Mabenti’s bandages.”
“You neglected to mention your own,” he reminded her.
“Didn’t need to. I just re-wrapped my leg,” she informed him, and offered the injured leg as a demonstration. He nodded, and went into the kitchen. Smoothing the thin fabric close to her skin, she gave the leg a final check, and hopped from the bed, the slight pain that followed never registering on her face.
The sun was hanging low over the western sky, as Serbindi stepped into the cramped makeshift kitchen and concluded preparations on the citrus-scented trout. Soft mumblings eminating from the main room brought to mind Mabenti’s presence, and a third plate setting was laid for the lieutenant. Aqua-grey eyes surveyed the calm landscape framed by the window. The waning moon was cutting a path across the smokey sky, unmasked by the sun’s rays, and the pale crescent loomed far in the distance. A vast carpet of asters dotted the field bluely, accented by the occasional spray of primrose. Juniper bows partially fanned along the window, lending a feathery air to the scene. A lark swooped past, and she smiled. Damn picturesque, if you ask me, she reflected.
“Lovely, isn’t it.” The voice behind her pricked upon her skin, but didn’t startle her. I wish he wouldn’t do that, though.
“Yeah, not too bad. Not exactly up to the Appenines, but I’ll take it,” she replied, keeping her voice light and easy. She could almost feel the lazy smile he wore.
There was a lengthy pause, then; “What are the Appenines?”
“A mountain range, a bit west of here. Very nice, I hear. I’ve never been there, but it’s supposed to be very refreshing...stunning view.” She kept her eyes focused on the plate she held, drizzling the tangy sauce onto the trout.
“Ah,” he replied flatly.
“Lots of snow there, apparently,” she added neutrally. “Windy, too.”
“I see.”
She drew a deep breath, and turned, plate in hand. “Well, dinner’s done. If you’d like to...” She trailed off, puzzled by the intense, preoccupied look on his face. “What?” she queried. “Is there something on my face?” she asked, wiping hurriedly at the subject.
Then he did something that astonished her. He grinned. Not a smirk, or even a tight-lipped smile, but a full-out, teeth-baring grin. “No, nothing,” he replied. The fleeting grin was quickly replaced by the more natural half-smile.
This unexpected developement brought a matching smile to her face, which allowed her to be briefly treated to another grin. The response simply created a repeat performance, and began a chain reaction of inexplicable giggles. I’m laughing like a stupid kid, over nothing! she thought to herself in amusement. It was enjoyable though, and she allowed herself the first moment of hilarity since the previous two days.
Through the sleep-drenched haze Mabenti found herself in, she barely detected the echo of laughter resounding from the kitchen. Sharp pain yes; laughter filtered through her senses awhile later. Two sets; Serbindi’s, and...she searched her memory. Ah yes, she thought drowsily. Him.
It was awhile before it occured to her to wonder exactly why her friend was laughing hysterically. Might as well find out. Besides, I should get up and make myself useful. The twinge in her shoulder slowed her progress, but she screwed her eyes and ignored the pain. It is not there, it does not exist, I can do this.... She sat up haltingly, gingerly removing the covers off of her body, and planted her feet upon the cool wooden floorboards. The steady ache in her shoulder reminded her to proceed with caution.
Carefully making her way across the floor, supporting herself upon furniture when necessary, she did a mental victory dance upon reaching the kitchen. By then the laughter had faded to amused sighs, but she poked her head around the corner anyway.
“What’s up?” she asked.
The accused party gave Mabenti slightly guilty looks, then met each other’s eyes, which seemed to remind them of something, because another round of laughter ensued.
Oh hell. I knew it. “Who spiked the tea?” she demanded, setting off another burst of helpless laughter. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded, irritated.
“That’s the problem, I don’t know,” Serbindi responded, still giggling. She pointed a finger. “It’s his fault!” The erring party threw up his hands in mock innocence.
Mabenti sighed. “I think you’re both so tired, you’ve become hysterical. Especially you, Ser,” she addressed her friend. “You’ve been working your feathered ass off.”
A mental image popped into his mind of the slim Amazon, attired as she was normally, with feathers glued the back of her skirt. He stifled a snort, then attempted to remain sober. He knew from the way she was biting her lower lip, the same thought had occured to her, but refrained from mentioning it.
“...need to relax, and stop running around so much, Ser,” Mabenti was saying. “And you--” she pointed in his direction, then paused. “What’s your name anyway?”
Before he could respond she piped up, “The Professor,” and he raised an eyebrow at the reply. She merely smiled sweetly and blinked in return.
“O-kaaayyy...” Mabenti answered doubtfully. Sounds like a nutcase.
“I named him,” Serbindi added, punctuated by a chuckle from the topic of conversation.
A very lengthy pause, then, “I think we’re all very tired, and we need to get some sleep, Ok?” She paused again, for dramatic effect--she could never resist doing that in the tribe while making speeches for the Queen--and stated, “Professor,” Hell, I can’t believe I just called him that, “would you please help me set the table, while Serbindi makes the final preparations for dinner?”
“Actually, dinner’s all done,” Serbindi motioned towards the rapidly cooling fish staring solemnly at her from the counter.
“Oh.” A beat. “How long was I asleep?”
“Quite a few hours,” he gently informed her. “You were rather seriously injured, and your body needed to recuperate.”
“Ah. I see,” she replied, sidling a glance towards Serbindi. We’ll talk later, the look clearly implied.
He either didn’t catch the look--which Serbindi doubted, as he seemed to notice everything--or chose to ignore it, because the only thing he said was, “I’m sorry to have not been of much help lately.” Serbindi opened her mouth in protest, but he continued to address her. “Why don’t you go sit and I will bring the fish.”
Mabenti seemed pleased at this idea, and the more Serbindi thought about it, the better it sounded. Let someone else do the work, her mind grasped eagerly at the idea, and for once she agreed. “All right,” she stated carefully. Her controlling nature momentarily objected, but she quickly pushed it aside.
Having won a minor victory, he quickly went to work at laying out plates on the simple wooden table, strewn with Rhalesa’s incongruous doilies, and soon the small area was piled with the delicately scented trout. However, despite all protests, Serbindi insisted on doing something, any little thing, which was how she found herself outdoors, washbasin in hand, with the leftover dishes from the previous night’s dinner. Squatting cross-legged on the grass, fire flickering on her face under the waning light of the moon, she heated the water to soak the various pots and utensils.
While seated under the pale moonlight, Serbindi let her mind idly wander over the day’s discoveries. The most obvious, of course, was Mabenti. How the lieutenant managed to stay hidden for two days, let alone with an arrow protruding from her shoulder, was a mystery. Not that she minded having her sister around, no...despite the extra mouth to feed, she grinned wryly. But her very existence at this point was something of a miracle; she should have been dead within twelve hours, judging from the postition of the shaft, and the depth of the point.
Which led to another question looming in the back of her mind. How, in all the god’s names, could he have medical experience and never removed an arrow? Maybe he’s from Rome? she mused doubtfully. But that wouldn’t explain his utter ignorance of the
territory. Romans were well-educated, and even young children knew basic geography. Brittania, then. His accent was unusual, and it was possible that he was from that large island. If he was from Londinium...Her mind perked. A healer treating the upper classes would have no reason to see an arrow wound. But a healer who has never heard of Athens? Unlikely.
Footstepts behind her made her smile. And right on cue, the perfect opportunity presents itself. Right before he cleared his throat to alert her to his presence, she spoke, “You don’t have to sneak up all the time. I know you’re there anyway.”
“Beg pardon,” he replied quietly. “I meant no intrusion.”
A thought flitted briefly through her head, as she wondered if he could ever speak in any way other than that low, formal tone. Making a mental note to have him use contractions more often, she said, “It’s all right. I knew you were there anyway.”
There was a pregnant pause, before she spoke again. Using as casual a voice as she could, she stated, “Oh, by the way, I was just thinking...you never did tell me where you were from.” Her eyes flicked up to him from her seated position. “Where is home?”
He was silent a long time...so long she thought he was ignoring the question...then twitched almost imperceptibly. “You would not find it interesting. Suffice to say it is...different. Very foreign to your mind.”
Her eyes widened. “Not find it interesting? You underestimate my intelligence. It sounds fascinating. Please tell me.” She hesitated. “If you like, we don’t have to talk to Mabenti about it, if it embarasses you.”
“Nooo...it is nothing like that.” He gave a slight laugh. “One would have you thinking I was banished or suchlike.” A raised eyebrow. “I wasn’t, I assure you.”
She nodded encouragingly. At least he was talking about himself; she was determined to make this novelty last. “So how did you end up here, in the Western Territory?” she prodded gently.
“I...” She tilted her head to one side. “I’m not sure, actually.” An owl hooted in the silence that ensued, and the same light rain that has been falling all day began its pattern again. He glanced up into the inky sky. “It’s quite late, you should be resting.”
“Like hell I should,” she replied, annoyed. “I could last out here with two broken legs and a puctured lung better than you hale and hearty. This weather’s not bothering me a bit. You just don’t want to talk about your life anymore, and you’re trying to find a polite way around the subject.” His face fell, and she smiled sweetly.
“Anyway, go on about your country. How do you mean different? Like the land of Chin? I figured you to be from Brittania...you don’t sound, look, dress or act like anybody east of Greece. It couldn’t be that foreign.”
“Try me,” he muttered. Aloud he replied, “I do believe it could be.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Like how?”
“I do not wish to broach the subject at this--”
“How?”
He gave an agitated sigh. “Just take my word for it. The language is practically identical--” she nodded, having figured that much out-- “but the customs, beliefs and especially technology is so far from what I have seen here, it’s astounding. Also, it is far, far bigger than a single country.”
She paused, stumped at this reply. What could possibly be bigger than a country, and still be measureable? Let alone governable. “Give me an example.”
“Hmm. All right. Let me think how to put this in a way you will understand,” he replied, which irked her. How dumb does he think I am? I may be an Amazon, but I went through the required ten years of learning. I know three languages. Who the hell does he think he is? she fumed mentally.
“All right, let me put it this way. Have you ever been outside of Greece?” he asked.
“What kind of question is that? Of course I’ve been outside Greece. I’ve been as far as Gaul,” she told him proudly. He didn’t look too impressed, but that was to be expected from someone as distantly traveled as he evidently was. Arrogant jerk.
“Ah. Well, imagine a country many, many times that size--hundreds, thousands of times.” Her brow furrowed. “Now imagine thousands of such countries. That is where I am from,” he finished.
A long silence followed his explaination, then she laughed. “You’re right, I don’t know why I bothered asking.” The rain had ceased the light pattering of a few minutes prior, and was in a steady downpour, thoroughly soaking the pair. She looked up at him from her position on the damp earth, and he wordlessly offered a hand, which she readily accepted. Rising to her feet, she joined his side and they walked into the shelter together.