INFERNAL - 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

ONE

Ndete ran her hand over the grass, closing her eyes as she inhaled the scent of the flowers and trees around her. The rich tang of dark earth beneath her blended with the crisp freshness of the air above. A smile curved her lips. She lay back, letting the sun warm her face. Lazy bees droned nearby, the sound of them like the hum of an instrument. The branches of the Wannaya trees swayed, adding their own low notes in a thrumming base that she felt more than heard.

This.

This was what life was about. Taking in the world and savoring every moment. Listening to the trees as they sang, and the earth as it moved. Feeling it beneath her palms and her fingertips. Breathing it in, filling her lungs with it.

A point of pain pricked her leg.

Ndete's eyes snapped open. Golden orbs stared at her, darkened with displeasure to the color of a honey mead. Gray scales shimmered in the sunlight, reflecting the green of forest and field on shining plates, as if the trees had turned to liquid and spilled like paint onto a living canvass. The creature's long, curving neck bent low, and hot breath spilled over her chest and neck. One muscled leg rested beside her own, the foot pressed against her leg, one shining, razor-sharp claw indenting her skin. If Ndete so much as twitched, she would be pierced.

Ndete met those golden eyes with her own sapphire blue ones. She clamped her teeth together, grinding them in irritation.

"Mother."

What are you doing?

"Speak aloud, Mother. There is no one but me to hear you."

Smoke curled from gray nostrils and from between dark lips where flashes of white teeth were just barely visible.

"Our guests have arrived."

Oh. That.

"Yes, that. Your father requires you, and here you sit, playing in the grass like some... some mortalis."

Ndete's irritation heated into anger. "Better a mortalis than an impote."

The crests on her mother's head lifted, rising to deadly points. "Watch yourself, daughter. Grieving is one thing, disrespect another. What your father does, he does for us all. You think he does not grieve?"

If he did, he hid it well. Pina had only been gone for a month, but Father had already moved on. Life was proceeding as usual. It wasn't right.

The pain in her leg sharpened. Ndete gasped.

"You lost a brother," her mother growled, the smoke from her lips tinged with flames. "We lost a son!"

Her voice broke on the word. Guilt and anguish squeezed Ndete's ribs. A hot tear escaped and rolled down her face.

"Pina is gone, but we must go on Ndete. What good would it be to die along with him? Do you think it would ease the pain? Bring him back? No."

The crests on her head slowly lowered, but sorrow tainted her golden eyes.

"Nothing will bring him back to us. All we can do is to honor his life with our own."

Honor.

It was all they spoke of. How honorable was it to entertain guests when they should be taking the time to remember?

The pain in her leg vanished. Her mother lifted her head and rolled back her shoulders, gray scales rippling.

"You wrong your father, Ndete. He does not entertain these guests of his own accord."

Confusion pricked at her brow. What then?

The great dragon head swung left, looking out across the field toward the warren. "Okmok has demanded the Naming."