Part 42

89 1 4
                                    

Alrighty! Quick shoutout to Anime_invasion15, thank you very much for all of your supportive comments and for the follow, much appreciated!

This next update is a bit longer than most and I'm introducing a new character, I'd love to know what you think. Enjoy!

****************************************************

Naya. The scales of Itzel's fingertips caught slightly in the threads as he feathered his touch over the small embroidery. His sweet little girl. Barely four summers old and she'd taken to the thread craft with such determined focus, she'd outclassed many juveniles twice her age. She'd loved the bright colors and the magic of creating pictures in the cloth Meztli dyed. Meztli. His heart broke on the thought, as it had so many times in the months since the attack. Since the fire. Since the night his soul was irrevocably ripped from his body to burn in the ashes of their home. His mate. His child. Tears blinded his eyes and he dug the claws of his free hand deep into his palm, the pain nothing against the agony in his heart. His breath shuddered in his chest but the tears didn't fall. Not now.

Carefully, Itzel replaced the only remaining tie to his lost family onto its shelf. He blinked away the tears, forcibly turning his back on the shelf. He had to work, to do something. Move. Anything. His gaze settled on the shattered pottery. Snatching the broom, he quickly swept the mess into the jar full of other shards. Too quick. He needed something else. His hands still trembled as he searched his sparse cabin for something, anything that might distract. Something to focus on, something to do. Anything.

The birds stopped chirping. Itzel froze. No sound. No birds. No insects. Silence. Itzel crept to the doorway, cautiously peering into the suddenly silent swamp. A faint sound, familiar. Quickly descending the tree, Itzel slipped into the swamp and ducked beneath the cool waters. He rose several yards away, barely rising above the surface and listened. Splash.

He turned slightly to the right, gliding silently through the water in pursuit of the noise. There! Itzel froze behind a cypress stump, swamp weeds obscuring his face as he got his first look at the intruder. A two-legger, a female, sat in a narrow grey boat, paddle laying across her lap as she held a small box up in her hand, her other hand shading its surface from the early dawn light. She looked towards Itzel for a moment, eyes surveying the stump riddled terrain, before she set the box aside and picked up her paddle. Splash. The paddle lifted from the water, sending ripples across the surface before dipping back into the water on the boat's opposite side.

Splash. The female turned the small craft towards Itzel, the narrow boat easily slicing through the water with the slight force of the paddle. Itzel kept to the shadows as she drew nearer, slitting his eyes against the possibility of reflection. The female was small, with a slight build and grey hair sprinkled liberally with black threads. She'd pulled that hair back into a tail at the nape of her neck. Wrinkles lined her face and bracketed eyes of a startling green the color of spring leaves. But for all the signs of her apparent age, she moved with a strength and efficiency of movement that spoke of confidence. Of a self assurance that said she had nothing to fear from the wilds of the swamp despite her diminutive size. Not prey.

Itzel remained still as the boat passed within yards of his position, only tracking the female with his eyes as she moved further into the stumps. Where was she going? He trailed after, careful to keep several obstacles between himself and the two-legger. She paused again a few moments later, again picking up the box to examine it before continuing her journey. She turned the boat slightly, pointing its nose unerringly towards his home. Home. Kisin. Was she somehow tracking the little shaman? Or was it merely a coincidence that she was headed towards his nest?

Bayou RemedyWhere stories live. Discover now