THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT AND IS BOUND TO CHANGE.
"You have pretty eyes and a mouth full of lies." - Nara Mafie Green
*****
Adelaide, a mind-reading, emotion-lacking, badass spy joins forces with a messenger after her commander, Arna, sends crucia...
Without a horse, the travel to Yedha is about five days with minimal rest. Even with one horse, it's not a trip you make without purpose.
"Yedha it is," Tero says as if he had been deciding where to go. I cock my head to the side in confusion. I thought it was obvious we were heading there as I had already taken off steadily walking.
He makes a sort of angered grunt. That man is always annoyed with something; I have no idea what, though. I suppose it's something to do with the rough terrain and how unaccustomed he is to the dust hitting him in the face every so often. When reading his mind, most of his thoughts are clouded by the immense amount of annoyance in him. Sometimes, I get a string of fairly rude words that seem to calm him down when he thinks them.
Since we will be camped out for a little less than a week in this desert wasteland, we could use some more supplies. I packed enough to handle myself but not anyone else. There is no other kingdom between Reyfa and Yedha so I just have to hope he has enough for him in his pack. Gild is past Yedha from the direction we're coming from. Bristram is to the west, above Reyfa. All the others are far northeast, above and to the right of Gild.
"Nothing for damn leagues," Tero says, shoving a flat hand on his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun as he looks around.
I nod. "That's why it's dubbed a wasteland," I comment with a finger pointed up towards the sky to indicate my speech.
He only sighs, like usual.
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Reasoning with that man is akin to hitting a moving target with a throwing knife. You may get lucky a few times, they may give up, or you realize how useless the effort is. I find the last one hard to do for he always believes he's won the argument and my logical brain decides it's only plausible to tell him he's wrong again. Like just a few seconds prior.
"You're just jealous," he says with a smirk.
"I'm incapable of jealousy unless it's rational to indeed be jealous, which isn't a lot," I point out, accidentally driving him more, "and even then I don't feel jealous; I just acknowledge that I should be."
"It is rational to be jealous of me. I won the argument." He says 'rational' mockingly, as if it's a word only for an intelligent person's use.
"It's not like that," I start before going into a detailed explanation of my emotions and why he so-called won the argument.
