3 Lying and Flying (1/2)
A few of the satyrs continued a spirited discussion about her, but none of them seemed very interested actually in speaking to her.Or even looking at her.
HoneyBeard picked up his bushel of branches and seemed about to take his leave.The light of dusk was starting to smolder down behind the trees.
Nelda leaped up and stumbled after HoneyBeard.”But wait!” she called.”Can I stay here?”
He turned to her grumpily.”I don't see anyone stopping you.”
Nelda fumbled for words.”But how will I… live?”
”The air is warm, the ground is soft.There is fruit in the trees and fish in the river.If you don't know how to live, that's not down to me.”
Nelda had to run to keep up with the satyr, who moved his large frame nimbly on dainty hooves. She tripped in the darkness, staggered, twirled and fell, tumbling down the bank into the tepid river,She could feel thick mud [or at least I hope it's mud] squishing between her fingers and smeared down the side of her face.
HoneyBeard peered over the edge of the bank at her, silhouetted against the fading sky.
BugleHead came over to join him. ”Why is she bathing with her clothes on?” he asked.
”I am beginning to suspect, brother, that the little priestess has no idea how to live.”
”It's dark.” Nelda struggled to stand and rinse her hands and face in the water.
”So you don't have moon-sight, then?” BugleHead asked.
”I don't have moon-sight, I guess. Whatever that is,And I don't know which fruit can be eaten, and I don't know how to fish.What did you expect? I don't even know how to put offerings on an altar correctly.”
Nelda felt a sudden surge of emotion and at that moment it could have gone one of two ways: dissolving into pathetic tears or venting pointless anger with the bizarre turn her life had suddenly taken.
[I am not going to be a damsel-in-fucking-distress, or at least not the damsel part].”Look you two,” Nelda said. ”Old stick-thumper may have declared I am not your problem, but maybe he's not the one who gets to decide that.My god put me here, and the one thing I am really good at is being a problem.So it might be a little bit easier if you help me figure out someplace I can go to try and maybe find a way back home.And I'll leave you to… whatever it is you do here other than drink and fuck.”
”Why would anyone want to do anything else?” BugleHead remarked.
”Well, brother.You can't expect a chaste skinny freak to understand the real purpose of lifeAnd we do at least one other thing, sleep.Which I am going to do now.”
[Why does he assume I am chaste?]
BugleHead [I should really find out his real name] replied with good humor: ”Hmm.But she may have a point. Maybe the harpies could help her?”
”And maybe if we just ignore her until tomorrow, the dragons will eat her.”HoneyBeard shuffled away.