Help! I’m caught!”
Stepping from the latrine trench, I hear Ratho’s faint yell. “Tiadone!” he calls. I tie the waist of my trousers on the run, my amulet bumbling against my thighs.
Mirko shoots ahead then circles back.
“Where is he?” I cry. My rapion bugles and streaks beyond our post with me racing after him.
“Help me, Tiadone! Sidewinders!”
Far beyond the scrub patch, in the open desert, I catch a glimpse of Ratho and Thae rolling in the sand, and I stumble over a shrub in my panic. Oof! Striking the ground knocks the breath out of me.
I scramble up and suck air into my flattened lungs. Running furiously, I finally reach them and hurl into the fray.
Ratho is surrounded by sidewinders, most as long as my legs. His boot is stuck in a nest hole, and the winders writhe around his ankle. Two sink their fangs into his boot even as he beats at them with his javelin. Thae clamps her teeth through the back of one hissing head at a time and flings the diamond-patterned, ropey bodies to the side.
“Help me!” Ratho yells again.
Mirko dives into the thick of the nest with a loud growl and pierces the base of a huge winder’s head. I club my way toward the hole, throw aside my javelin, and link my arms under Ratho’s as I pull with all my strength. Winder pits tend to collapse and trap intruders, but thankfully, this one releases Ratho. Relief jars through me as we stumble onto our backsides. He lands on top of me and rolls off. Before I can get up, Ratho is on his feet and attacking the nest.
“Augh!” I yell as a fang pierces my leg. The slick winder flaps about. I grasp it tightly, and twist the head. The fang breaks from the mouth, but the body still thrashes. I fling it through the air. Its head hits a boulder, and the winder flops to the sand. I tug up my trouser leg and pry the fang from my skin; while I do so, the burn shoots across my calf as the hole seeps red. I stuff my sleeve against the wound.
“I’ll finish them!” Ratho yells. Thae and Mirko continue to attack the winders that haven’t retreated while Ratho stabs his javelin down the opening.
“With care!” I call and put more pressure on my bubbling lesion.
The rapion are quick to sink the death bite and flap into the air before another serpent can strike. Winders drop lifeless to the sand. Blood sprinkles from the sky.
Soon every sidewinder above ground lies motionless. Ratho collapses beside me as Mirko and Thae swoop over the carnage. “Come down,” Ratho and I call. We need to check them for wounds, but they ignore us in their celebration. Thae appears to have no fear of Mirko now!
“Well, are you all right, Tiadone?” Ratho asks.
“I don’t know.” I lift the material away from my leg. The blood has slowed, but best of all there’s no blackness rimming the hole.
“No poison,” he says, and wipes winder splatter from his cheek. “I need to check my ankle.”
“I’ll do it.” He doesn’t jerk from me and instead leans back on his elbows. I pull off his boot and sock. There isn’t any blood, and there aren’t prick marks anywhere. The hide has held.
My hands linger on his muscled calf, now covered with hairs like Father’s. When did he grow such hair on his legs? I bite my lip and scramble for words. “So, don’t tell me your mama made these boots from Old Goatgrinder,” I say.
Ratho sits up. “Nothing tougher than that plumdogit goat.” We both start laughing. “That goat would try to mate with anything!” Ratho hoots.
“My father’s leg!” I cackle.
“A fence post!” he shouts. We both howl and roll in the sand.
As our giggles pass, Ratho sits up and slowly pulls on his sock and boot. Mirko sings of victory and Thae lifts a dead winder and shakes it fiercely. “They seem to be fine,” Ratho says.
“Definitely. Maybe they can sense we are not seriously hurt?”
Despite me telling him not to bother, Ratho tears a strip from the bottom of his tunic and ties it about my wound. The pressure eases the burn. “Thank you,” I say.
He gives me a firm hand to help me stand. “No. Thanks go to you,” he says. Mirko finally flies to my shoulder, and Thae flaps to Ratho’s arms.
We examine the birds head to talon. Not one prick or bite in evidence. Both rapion nudge their faces against our necks while Mirko’s hum winds down.
A pregnant silence bulges between the four of us. Finally, Ratho speaks.
“Forgive my head, which is as tough as my boots,” he says. “I have shame.” He blushes deeply, and Thae ducks her head beneath her wing. “Mirko is a strong rapion,” Ratho says hoarsely.” He is no Featherless Crow.”
“It’s — ”
“No.” He stops me. “Do you realize that if Mirko had been left on the Scree, as I spoke, I might have perished now? Who knows? He has great strength and is worthy, Tiadone.”
A huge smile blooms on my face. “Yes, he is!” Mirko chortles and leaps into flight around Ratho and his rapion. Thae flaps to join him, and they begin chasing each other.
I step before Ratho and draw two fingers clear across his chest. Forgiveness. I am able to give it fully. I lean forward and press my lips to his worried forehead to prove my gesture.
“Tiadone,” says Ratho, looking straight into my eyes, “Mirko is equal to all.”
“As is Thae,” I give the formal answer to his statement. We smile, and he grabs me in a hug that overwhelms me. His scent. His strength. Our separation has ached me more than I dared admit. He squeezes me tightly before stepping back.
I grin up at my strong rapion flapping in the open sky. Maybe other patrollers will be won just as quickly as Ratho and Thae.
“Still like the taste of winder?” I ask, sending off the last frayed tension into the air.
“Never as much as now!” Ratho laughs. The four of us turn and collect the bounty of fresh meat.