In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 23: Tussle at the Well

The school-lodge was situated on a small, grassy knoll at the end of a tanaura path which led away from the village well.

Ziuta stood beside the well and clutched her tiny cloth pocket of lunch; Mother had fixed it for her. It contained a few balls of rice, several slices of watery tree fruit, some candies made from tree sap, and a few other luxuries that Ziuta did not feel she deserved. Would school take the entire day, or just a few hours? How many other children would be there? Would there be an equal number of boys and girls? And the teacher-- yes, this was the question that nagged at her the most of all. Would the teacher be a foul-faced thing like the Matron Amiechek, who would cast blatant looks of distaste her way and not bother explaining the lessons so that Ziuta might understand them?

She stood beside the well, gripping the edge with one hand for support, and shivered. Ahead of her, she could see a small gaggle of children with their own lunch parcels meandering down the sorrel-stoned path. Some were her size, a few smaller than she, and still others tall enough to look to be about Sashek's age. Most of them had the same milky-white tresses of the younger generation, but a few of them were growing in their chartreuse-colored adult hair...and among them somewhere, Ziuta knew, was Waru.

Her heart thumped a warning, and she could feel the familiar surge of adrenaline pumped into the blood of her veins.

Perhaps if I sneak away from the well now, I can manage to escape from the palisade once more and make a trip to Haven's Creek--

But no. Ziuta did not need to be told that this was out of the question. She dared not do anything that would cause her punishments to increase or Gormaq to lose face in front of the dwindling council-- and she already knew Water Fly was alive. Wounded, but alive; there would be time, plenty of time, to sneak out and try to meet her water friend a different time.

Ziuta took a deep breath, smoothed the ornate, damask curls that she had whorled into fat buns over each ear in the style of Kiwa women, and smoothed out her dress. She had been clad in the standard blue school pinafore that morning; her green 'dragon's gown' had been retired last evening so that Mother could wash it and make amends, but the scintillating scale had been removed and sewn on the bodice of Ziuta's school uniform. This would set her apart even more so from the others, but thinking about it, she found she did not care much. As Luka had said with such confidence, she could call the dragons (can I really?), and the Draca which had attacked her friend had backed off when ordered to do so. She had a bizarre effect on the Draca, and the others knew it.

I should have nothing to fear...so why is it that I cannot make myself do this?

Ziuta hated herself for her sniveling fear. She was the daughter of Rotem, commander of the Forest People's Village on Kiwa. She would have never shown such fright or uncertainty before coming to this strange world filled with fat matrons, handsome young men with white curls, and dragons that either formed attachments to their human friends or attacked them with ferocity in order to implant their infernal offspring.

On Kiwa, she would have been proud, reserved, with her head held high, afraid of nothing. And hadn't that been how her mother, Siuntla, had composed herself? How many times had she heard the stories from others of how Siuntla had been an outcast, even before she gave birth to the carioca-haired infant that would be one day called Ziuta? And yet, how proudly Siuntla had carried herself through their tiny village! With Kip-Kip strutting importantly along at her heels, Siuntla would have gone about her duties with calm and serenity, collecting her water, washing her garments in the stream, nodding politely at the busy-bodies who'd been whispering about her only moments before, and ready to assist a birthing at a mere shout from the concerned husband. Siuntla had been feared, but also needed-- and, on an odd level, loved.