By Paw and Sail

Chapter 7: A Cup of Kaffea [Silvereyes]

"Silvereyes, may I sit?"

Quirikta looked up from his food as Drasska spoke. The soldier stood on the other side of the table, holding a tarnished plate and cup in his paws.

"Sure."

Drasska set his meal down and hopped onto the bench. The wooden legs scraped against the floor as he scooted it closer to the table.

"Did he leave?"

Quirikta nodded as he chewed. He hadn't eaten since yesterday. At this point, even the legion's rations tasted good.

"I think he left as soon as he finished the rites."

"Ah. Did you go all the way down this morning?"

"Yeah."

"What did it look like?"

He didn't know how to answer the question, but he was certain the adulteration of The Well was profound and likely irreversible. 

"I'd say, it looked like death."

Drasska lifted a piece of cooked fish towards his mouth with the pronged fork. He snorted in frustration as it broke apart and fell back to the plate.

"They've been in the barrel too long," Quirikta said.

"Yeah, I'm not all that hungry anyway."

"Really? My stomach was turning in on itself when I woke up."

Drasska shook his head. His ears rang from the roaring blast that shook the Ire several hours ago. It disrupted his rest and left him with a lingering headache, which blunted his appetite.

"The smell from the valley doesn't help either."

"It's going to get a lot worse," Quirikta said. "They've only been out there for eight hours or so."

"Do you think we'll stay here?"

"I'm not sure. Honestly, I don't know if anyone has thought that far ahead yet."

He leaned down towards his plate as he shoved a fork laden with fish between his lips. He swallowed a mouthful of water before continuing.

"There's a klatch later this evening," he said. "I think the commanders of the second and fourth division will be there, so I'm sure they'll decide on a plan for the next few weeks at least."

"Aren't you going too?"

"Yeah, I suppose... Loradin asked me to come. I'm not sure why."

The soldier laughed. Attending a war meeting with the Legion's commanders would be an unparalleled honor for most Dhoma, but he didn't doubt the words of the wiry cat sitting across the table.

"What?" Quirikta said.

Drasska shook his head as he poked at the fish on his plate. The meal lost what little appeal it had as it cooled.

"I wish we had kaffea, I could really use some right now," he said. "Of course, the scale-skins had to land in Pantrenne first and torch the trees."

"I doubt we could have saved many beans even if they landed further north. We didn't even have time to move all the cats across the divide."

"Yeah, I know. There's no way it could have happened. I'm just... exhausted."

Drasska leaned away from the table and stroked his head-fur. His eyes narrowed to slits as his nails dug into the creases behind his ears. He slid his paws down to his neck and clawed at the fur beneath the stiff collar. 

Quirikta finished the rest of his fish in a few big bites. He grimaced and coughed a few times as he pulled a thin bone from the back of his mouth.

He hated eating picks. Checking every mouthful for cartilage made the bland meat even less appetizing. The lakes and rivers of Voss-Dhoma were full of pickfish though, so they were a staple of legion kitchens.