The Isbjørn

Forty

The morning was clear, crisp, and bright, leaving no trace of the battle that took place over the night. Smokey wisps were creeping up from the lightly crackling fire Daire was prodding with a branch of a Saintinos tree. The desert tree received its name from religious pioneers who thought the tree looked like a prophet, waving them on to the Promised Land. For that reason, it was strangely all the more satisfying for the maltecessor to watch it burn.

John was still dozing as the sun was peaking, casting light on the Isbjørn sitting in one corner near the fire. Opposite him was Eyne, and then Sri and Aranea, crouched nearby listening to their conversation.

"Did you hear the explosion last night?" Eyne had asked, sparking the beginning of a conversation that Daire had not expected to have.

"Not at all. Was there a raid?"

The Saevan shook his head. "Not of the usual sort," he began. "Interesting things you hear these days, to be sure." He was chatting to his best degree in Terim, and feeling better for his practice. This was the casual conversation he yearned for, outside of war and destruction- rumours and stories always amused him and his company.

"Really?" returned Daire, "Like what?"

There were rumours of strange things happening outside the range of war. Eyne often met strange travelers of far countries, seeking refuge from the southern struggles of Unionem Netat. They were troubled, and some spoke in whispers of a danger that crept in the south pass in the mountains that seperated the UN from Saeva. It was a creature the Saevan only knew in legends of the dark past. In Eyne's lifetime, it was was only used in the past tense. But it hung in the air now like a shadow in the background of Mankind's memories. Even the most off-standing Saevans began to hear the tales; and those like Eyne whose business took them to the borders saw concerning changes in the gathering of troops.

"Further south, at the Textus Peeks, they say there are Esuries."

"Esuries?" retorted Daire. "And why are they saying that?" He had to restrain himself from glancing at Aranea. In part, he wanted to see how she was reacting.

"I heard of them when I was younger, but there was no call to believe in them." His use of the past tense hung in the air. "But they say the Esuries are still living in those peeks. The regime is dividing it's forces to wipe them out."

"Who are they?" Aranea asked, breaking her silence at last.

Eyne turned to her. He noticed she did not speak often, but when she did, it was a refined eloquence that assisted his comprehension. "My cousin for one. He works in lumber at Alstene and goes up to the peeks for the views. He saw one."

Daire tore back in. "What did it look like?" Until seeing Aranea, he never would have had a base for what a Esurie looked like. For whatever reason, he had thought they would be more bat-like, black maybe, with no eyes at all. Perhaps that was the reason why Aranea was able to blend as she did- people had forgotten just what their enemy looked like and had become all the more fearful for that same reason.

"Like a malformed skeleton- white and deformed." Eyne lost himself in the low billowing flame, recalling the fear in his cousin's eyes. "I can only hope he was mistaken."

Sri worked the conversation away from creatures on the idea of breakfast.

"Breakfast?" John woke to the smell of something smokey and sweet. The bark of the Saintinos tree burned a sugary smell. Eyne had showed the waking group how to roast the fruit pods over the flames. When cooked, the sugars inside became sweet as honey and the outer skin pruned like a grape.

"Desert boy has it made," Sri chuckled, popping a piece of one of the pods into her mouth. With the desert fruits, they ate leftovers from the previous morning, the bread tasted almost as good as it did looking over a sparkling city. "I didn't want to leave you any, but Daire insisted."