At first, the heaviness of Lalo’s Severation sits on us, but eventually the days stream together like the lines of color stacked in the mesa walls, from gold and yellow to purple. Slowly autumn’s chill sneaks through our uniforms. Several more patrollers cycle out, Jilbon included. We had no exchanges beyond our unfortunate first, so I managed to pity him the loss of his rapion. How couldn’t I?
The pain and horror of witnessing Severations never lessens. Yet knowing what to expect and having Ratho at my side helps me to recover as soon as is possible.
And so we find a rhythm at Perimeter. Ratho and I patrol all the posts multiple times, each destination like the other with hardly a noticeable difference. There’s no reason to jostle for a better position when we line up for assignments. We’ve seen no evidence of the Triumvirate. Only endless desert.
At the mesa we sleep, eat, and drill. Ratho and I graduated from practice with a tree to practicing along with the entire Carterea division during bola drills. Ratho has mastered the weapon better than me, but I am stronger with the javelin. We compete as usual. It is a relief to be normal again in his eyes.
It is also a relief I’ve had no more visions.
None of the other patrollers shows any interest in us. By accepting me and Mirko, Ratho has excluded himself from them. He says he prefers my company anyway. The nights the Carterea gather at the firepit, Ratho and I are ignored on the outskirts. At least it seems the boys have grown used to Mirko’s songs; now when they quiet, I wonder if it is to only hear him better.
“I believe Patrol is manageable,” I said one night while on Perimeter. Ratho had just snagged a desert hare with his bola. It was then the first snowflake fluttered past my chin, and my conclusion was challenged.
Soon we were standing in line for winter gear with the rest of the division. Now our trousers are goat hide with the fur turned inward to warm our legs. Our ponchos are thicker due to rabbit fur linings, and our boots are edged with rabbit as well. Tight leather hats squeeze our twists, secured with a chin strap to fight the winds.
Ratho and I have both grown. The round Clothier puffed and dug in the shelves for longer double-layer underclothes for us both. Ratho has passed my height. Though I believe we both must stand taller than Father now.
I step out of the mesa and her cold corridors to watch the sky lighten. The rabbit fur bulging from the neck of my poncho tickles. The early wind whips my ratty hair twists up off my back and nudges my amulet across my thigh.
Father, I call silently, how is your health? Our home? The village goats? Frana? Mirko flaps into the crisp air and glides above me. Father, you are my soul’s portion despite this life you’ve given me. I understand your choice a little more now. I wrap my arms around myself. And I have proven I can serve here. I wish you could see me, Father. Mirko and I are as strong as any! We belong!
“Tiadone!” Ratho bear hugs me from behind. Thae swirls up to Mirko as I laugh and wrestle Ratho in the new snow. Flakes fluff and twirl around us. As usual, I end up straddling his waist with my knees snug against his wide chest. My stomach flutters, and my breath catches. I lurch back from his full, smiling lips. I’ve always longed for Ratho’s touch, but this is much stronger, and much different, from any sensation before. Trembling, I hurriedly roll off of him.
“You win!” he acknowledges and knocks my upper arm. His eyes pause on mine, his dimple fades, and confusion hovers on his face. I quickly laugh again to cover my own embarrassment at the warmth spreading through my ribs.
Thae glides down to Ratho, which causes him to break his gaze from me. “Some help you were,” he tells her. She shrugs her shoulders and opens her wings. Every day, our rapion act more human.
Chamber of Verities, why are these desires inside of me? Surreptitiously, I squeeze my amulet to release more power. Mirko bugles his return and alights quite heavily on my shoulder.
I force my thoughts to Mirko. “You’ve grown too, you know. Your rump barely fits on my shoulder.” He pecks my ear.
The four of us report to bola training. It is a fresh start with our new clothes, and a new challenge to master our weapons in this colder climate. With the strength of the desert cat’s heart and my father’s hair coils, this strange physical attraction will certainly wither. I’ve heard the Carterea boys go on for a day about one female back in the village only to be moaning about another the next day. Hopefully, soon I will be moaning none.
Before me, my sigh streams out white like rapion signal smoke. I walk through it with confidence. My legs only slightly shaking, and my pelvis warm.