Chapter 34: Tribes (2/2)
The woods by the road, one minute before.
Beastling leaders were a rare breed, able to plan and to conceptualize the future. They could save food for later, and even spare monster juveniles to torture into subjugation instead of just eating them. Thus, they could direct their horde from atop tamed horrors.
This specific beastling was not a horde leader yet, but he had the right mindset. He knew that an army was like a person, and just like every person, it should be attacked from the rear.
He was distracted when the head of his subordinate rolled before him.
A keener mind would have appreciated the irony of being struck in the back while preparing a back strike. Sadly, the beastling leader merely turned in fright, only to meet a pair of slitted eyes floating in the darkness like twin lanterns on a moonless night.
“Hellow,” they said, and he died.
Arthur, the present moment.
Arthur flew to her human. There were many of those, but her human wore a distinct cloth and the dragonling could tell. Half of the humans made scared borgle sounds when she landed, which showed that they were not as dumb as they looked. The others were already used to being at her mercy should she choose to eat them. Which she wouldn’t.
The image with the bigger her in the ‘bis-tia-ri’ had been clear. The humans had to be roasted first to be tasty. On top of that, they had to wear those metal shells, probably for pressure cooking or something? In any case, Arthur would not eat them raw.
She jumped from foot to foot and opened her mouth. Her human briefly inspected her teeth and said something Arthur recognized.
“Hungry?”
Yes! Yes, that was it. Her human was truly smarter than the rest. Her human was capable. Arthur glomped on a few pieces of jerky and the sweet aroma washed away the memory of the small ones’ taste. Vile! Disgusting! All was good again.
On the side, one of the boring humans took out its claw. Arthur was ready to assert dominance when a tendril of darkness from her human’s inner self poked out, angled towards the offender. Her human borgled something and the boring one stepped aside. Her human knew how to assert dominance! In Arthur’s brain, that placed her human higher on the hierarchy. The scaleless one truly was a credit to her species.
Arthur took to the skies again to hunt for squirrels.
Marruk, the present moment.
In Kark tradition, the healers of the tribe played a complex role that extended beyond the physical. They preferred a holistic approach to well-being. The Kark were one. When a person suffered, were their thoughts not clouded? Then why should the body not be affected when the mind was in disarray? As such, healers were gentle souls dedicated to the well-being of their tribesmates.
So.
Humans were different.
Especially Viviane.
“I know how to reduce a fucking fracture, thank you very much. Marruk, when I say so, slap that little bitch but don’t break anything. I don’t want more work.”
Marruk nodded in acknowledgement. The guard did not. He was looking with worry at his broken arm.
“Now.”
Marruk back-handed him.
“Oof!”
Crack.
“Ow!”
The soldier had a weird wince. Marruk was not sure if the distraction really helped with the pain. She had to admit, though, slapping the humans was kind of fun.
“Immobilization please.”
Soldiers raised their hands. A band of solidified earth formed around the arm and held it in place. A passing, exhausted nurse entered their tent.
“Lady Bob, we got more lacerations in tent five after you are done, if you are willing.”
“Be there in a second. Ok. Looks good. You need to keep the cast and avoid using that arm for six weeks, give or take. Less if you get magical healing. Eat dairy and leafy greens.”
“I… I saw you give some health potion to that other guy.”
Viviane’s expression turned cold, and Marruk smiled in anticipation.
“The one with the perforated intestines? The man who was dying?”
“Hmm, yeah?”
“And my little soldier boy has a little boo boo on his arm? He wants some potion and a kiss as well? Is that it?”
Viviane’s face turned into a mock pout. It was ridiculous and some of the nearby soldiers chuckled.
“...”
“Are you dying, boy? Are you?”
“...No.”
“Then, FUCK OFF!”
Marruk followed the caster as she stormed out of the tent. Almost every survivor from the caravan was wounded, and they were stabilizing them before leaving. Stabilizing meant that they would survive the trip. It was an interesting term. She had never heard it before.
Marruk wondered if Viviane had learnt some healing art just so that she could inflict more pain.
They entered the next tent. It smelled of blood.
“I don’t want to be helped by no stinking steppe rat!” a voice exclaimed.
“Oh, a feisty one. If you’re healthy enough to whine then I guess you can go last,” Vivian said off-handedly as she surveyed her ‘patients’. She would always handle the most wounded first if they had a chance of being saved.
Marruk decided that Viviane’s motivations were not that important. Viviane had defended her without thinking, against another human, and that was all that mattered. She leaned against the caster and whispered in her ear.
“Can I slap him as well?”
Viviane looked up from a wound she was closing with thread and needle and cast a glance at the man who had insulted Marruk, and who now looked a bit worried.
“Ok. Give me two minutes.”
Maybe Marruk had found a new tribe.