BAD CROW MOUNTAIN (Lesbian)

CHAPTER 18 Nod twice

"What is it, holy Amixantra save our souls," Zil says fearfully.

"You should tell me that, kid. You should be ashamed not to know this creature," I reproachfully reply. The creature doesn't release my leg and has already emerged waist-deep from the marshy ground. She (judging by the cute little breasts – it's a female creature) smiles kindly, baring two sharp cat-like fangs, while all other teeth seem human-like.

"Do you need help?" the elfia asks fearfully.

"No," I say dryly, not even attempting to shake off her pale green hand from my foot. "Zil, this is a bog kikimora. You're lucky – it's a rare creature," I say with a teacher's tone, pointing at the kikimora.

"I've never heard of them. What a marvelous creature!" Zil speaks as a lover under his beloved's balcony. The kikimora hears his words and smiles even wider (or bares its teeth wider, who knows). He takes out his sketchbook and starts drawing the bog kikimora. It emerges even more, observing the boy, sometimes raising its big ears resembling fins of decorative fish in an aquarium, and then lowering them.

I squat down, "bog kikimora or kikimora ferus – is one of the rarest creatures and is only found in the Woodland's midlands. Encountering them is practically impossible as they live in the deep thickets at the bottom of the swamp. Little is known about their life, as they rarely emerge to the surface, because no one in their right mind would venture into the most impenetrable forests and into the swamp, right, Svartalf?" I look reproachfully in her direction.

"You agreed to this job yourself. I didn't drag you here."

"I'm a battle mage, not a prostitute who will do whatever her elven mistress commands. So what was I saying," I turn back to the kikimora. "We can only speculate on what they eat. Some scientists believed that bog kikimoras are distant relatives of mermaids and quite amiable."

"Knowing Lodda, you can't assert that for sure."

"You're right. I also thought that there are always exceptions to the rules, but here's Lodda – just an ordinary stupid woman who put her interests above the interests of other women who cared for her, or like you, I thought you were different since you care about common people and their Woodland, but in reality, you just want to win your mother's love. Stories as old as the world," I say calmly.

"You're no better than me," the elfia says just as calmly, but I feel she's not sure of her words; they sound more like a child's self-defense. "You just need money like every mage."

I chuckle at her words. The kikimora gets scared and sinks into the water almost entirely, but doesn't let go of my leg like a child clinging to its mother's skirt, "Dear rich elfia, of course, every mage needs money. Me, Zil, and everyone else. With money, we buy food, clothes, equipment, or herbs for potions. This elfia was surely born with a silver spoon in her mouth, isn't that right, sweetheart," I address the water creature. Seeing that I'm talking about her, she smiles even wider, emitting a funny snort resembling childish giggling.

"Amazing," the boy says.

"Hey, green cutie, do you like this mage? You can't take your eyes off him."

The kikimora nods, blinking with her big violet eyes.

"She understands us! She understands us!" the boy whispers enthusiastically, not taking his eyes off her as he sketches her in his notebook with the stub of a pencil.

If he hadn't become a mage, he could have become an artist. He has talent. I didn't regret for a moment that I brazenly took the notebook from the boy, though he resisted at first, but then gave in.

I have never seen such amazingly vivid sketches. There are all the creatures he has encountered on his way from the academy to Roseville, with descriptions and notes; there are even me, Svartalf, Lodda, the innkeeper, and the wicked witch...

Everything looks so alive and real, and the lines are so light as if the boy didn't put in any effort at all. He watches the magical creature with such lively interest that I feel envious and sad. It is as if I'm looking at my reflection, which I have forgotten many years ago after Malva's death... no, after that tournament. I could have studied creatures, traveled with research groups as my teacher ordered me to. I could have gone to different kingdoms and even studied witch circles and other portals to different dimensions, but instead, I was just Malva's guardian and lover for a few years after graduating from the academy, and after her death, a wanderer without purpose or idea.

"Maybe you could then take him by the leg and have a little chat," I ask hopefully, but she didn't move. "You know you don't have to grab someone by the limbs to attract attention."

The elfia finally gets rid of the blackberry branches and some other mischievous bush with clinging branches; she purposefully walks towards me and the kikimora.

"You want something, don't you?" she ask friendly.

The kikimora nods. Unlike her relative, the mermaid, whose physiology was designed to attract humans, mostly males, for the purpose of procreation (male mermaids do not exist in nature), the bog kikimora resembles a real woman rather than an exquisite exaggerated engraving or painting depicting a beautiful maiden or princess in a royal palace.

A charming little aquiline nose, the lower lip larger than the upper one, small and amazingly resilient breasts, instead of hair she has soft green algae and pieces of moss to blend in with the atmosphere and remain unnoticed by natural predators. It's amazing how Nature creates her children! I intentionally think about Nature and evolution, not about the goddess Amixantra. Even in my thoughts, the goddess has abandoned me. If I were a simple peasant and said such things aloud, I would have been publicly flogged for blasphemy, but I'm a witch, and everyone fears witches, even kings and priests.

"If you understand us, nod twice," I say.

The kikimora eagerly nods twice, she looks satisfied.

***

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