chaele
worship like a dog
Her offer takes the shaman by surprise, who had spent many LongNights huddled in jungle underbrush and perched between swamp tree branches. The idea of spending it within inescapable walls inspires a shiver in Chaele’s spine-- or perhaps the cold of night is setting in. Her voice wavers before she answers, juggling the invitation on her tongue before she ultimately sets it aside.
“I am familiar with its uses,” she replies instead, though perhaps suggesting that the truth is more in study than in practice. “But the likelihood that one of many people will need the herb is greater than that only one will.” She fishes the little sample out of her pocket then, folded as it is in a threadbare kerchief, and holds it out to the Grounder as they walk side by side.
The quiet settles for a longer time then, a slower pace matching the calmer air in the darkness. The death of their old stalker, swaying like a trophy on the side of Chaele’s pack, seems to have dissuaded any comrades it might have had for now. The test is all but completed, the distraction fulfilled, and all that is left is the mutual company of a young friendship.
“I am familiar with its uses,” she replies instead, though perhaps suggesting that the truth is more in study than in practice. “But the likelihood that one of many people will need the herb is greater than that only one will.” She fishes the little sample out of her pocket then, folded as it is in a threadbare kerchief, and holds it out to the Grounder as they walk side by side.
The quiet settles for a longer time then, a slower pace matching the calmer air in the darkness. The death of their old stalker, swaying like a trophy on the side of Chaele’s pack, seems to have dissuaded any comrades it might have had for now. The test is all but completed, the distraction fulfilled, and all that is left is the mutual company of a young friendship.
at the shrine of my lies
