Tracer

5: Doing Business

"Hush, Umil," Alsta murmured, laying an arm around his Tracer's waist. Umil's pale skin was reddening quickly from a perfect imprint of Jylke's hand on his throat, and his eyes simmered with fire.

"Listen to your Champion, Umil," Jylke advised, a hard, cold smile curving his lips. "He has your best interest at heart, whereas I care nothing for you nor yours."

An animalistic growl throbbed from Umil and he struggled with Alsta. The man held him tight, crossing his other arm over his chest. Jylke hissed and made to move forward, but Myron placed a hand on his arm.

"Uncle," Jymke stepped up beside his mentor. 

Jylke turned to Jymke. His nephew was pulling his hood back up. "I have business."

Jylke nodded slowly. "So, you do." The hard smile softened, and he lifted Myron's hand to his lips for a playful kiss. He seemed to forget about Umil at once.

Umil's Champion snarled in his ear, finally stilling the man. Alsta murmured to Umil before turning to them. "You are, indeed, no less than you are born, Jymke. The Truth embraced you and filled you, Vertii. Umil, let him be."

The other Tracer glared at his Champion and turned a sneer on Jymke.

"Umil!" Alsta snapped. "Let him be." He pulled Umil tighter against him, out of the way, nodding to Jymke. "May the Truth guide you, Jymke o'Jylke tua Jilsa ap Kydri."

"And you, Alsta." Jymke gave the Champion a regal nod.

Desmon kept an eye on Umil as Jymke moved away. Seeing Alsta had him well in hand, he caught up. "That was unpleasant," he muttered.

"That was easy compared to what may come," Jymke remarked, surprisingly upbeat.

Desmon agreed but relaxed as they reached their first destination. High-fenced corrals teemed with Dusters. From the nearest one, a reddish bull bellowed a greeting to Jymke. Desmon smiled as the Tracer answered in kind, leaping up and over the rails to meet the creature as it wove through the herd to him. Jylke and Myron leaned on the rails and watched him.

Dusters were tall creatures, resembling camels but without a hump. A healthy bull stood ten to twelve feet at the foreshoulder, the smaller heifers never grew taller than eight. Their broad backs swooped to a long, sweeping tail. They were primarily four-legged creatures with wide, rounded, and hollow hooves, the rear legs slightly longer than the fore, giving them a leaning, rocking gait. Within the hooves, were sharp, retractable claws.

Wrapped around their bellies, were two more sets of legs, long and slender. These were utilized during mating, grooming, and defense, the three sharp claws at the end of each almost prehensile in their flexibility.

Set squarely between the broad, knobby shoulders was the long, sinuous neck and large, wedge-shaped head. Their nostrils were wide like a camel's but covered with a thin membrane that filtered out particles and insects. Their eyes were deep set, under heavy, furry brows and their teeth were at least as long as Desmon's open hand. Like sharks, they constantly shed and grew them. The ears were long and floppy, almost like a hound dog but stood upright or lay back according to the creature's mood.

The crowning glory of the Duster, however, was the long strands of hair that grew all over. It fell in layers from their necks and backs and required frequent trimming to keep them from stumbling on it.

Jymke's bull's ears were perked forward, his tail whipping about as the Tracer wrapped his arms around his neck. He lowered his head to his shoulder and huffed, nuzzling him.

Desmon leaned on the rail and watched with a smile. This was why Hylit couldn't take this herd from him. They loved Jymke and would follow him anywhere, even Top Side.