Otherworld

Part 18

Bridged was exhausted. She had been busy helping the women gather plants to make the armor and shields. Arnold was showing the warriors of the huge village how to mold and shape the armor to fit their bodies. Good thing that the plant they used was abundant. If not, they would have plucked it out of existence.

Bridged found the plant interesting. It had such a funny name that it sounded like gibberish to Bridged and even Arnold couldn't grasp how to pronounce it. The plant was a vibrant green when living, but dulled down to a mossy green with flecks of red in it when dried. The most amazing thing about the plant was that it smelled like mint when plucked, it looked like prehistoric ferns, and it grew astronomically fast like bamboo does back on Earth.

Arnold was astounded at how malleable the plant was once you got it wet and pounded it down into a pulp. Arnold had commented that it was a little like putty. It had taken Arnold a few days to work out how to mass produce the armor and mold it to each individual native, but it was discovered that it worked similar to using plaster to make a mold.

The sun was warm on Bridged as she sat dipping her feet into the crystal clear lake that was so wide the other side was invisible. Nakira hadn't been lying when she'd spoken of the beasts that the fishermen brought back. They were gigantic beasts unlike anything Bridged had ever seen. They had feelers all over the head and seemed to have no flippers to move them through the water. Bridged wasn't a fan of the meat which tasted a little rotten to Bridged and smelled like dirty swamp water while cooking.

News kept coming into the town about the activity of Bridged and Arnold's people. Bridged didn't like what she was hearing. Her people were flooding this world like grasshoppers on a garden. Arnold was just as concerned as Bridged was. The fate of this world lay heavily on both their shoulders, neither wanted to admit defeat when they knew that their chance of success was slim.

A sigh escaped Bridged. Too bad there wasn't another race on this world that were warriors. It would take years to make the agoathos daimon's warriors. They were too peaceful to be good warriors. The training that Bridged and Arnold were giving the natives was just enough to keep them from getting slaughtered.

"We're doomed."

Bridged looked up as Arnold suddenly sat down beside her. He peeled off his socks and shoes before he stuck his feet in the water. Exhaustion lined Arnold's face making him look years older. Bridged reached over and laid her hand over his. Arnold smiled tiredly at Bridged as he moved his hand enough so that he could squeeze Bridged's fingers.

"That bad huh."

"We are sending lambs to slaughter. They are trying, but we need months and years of training for them to defeat the General and his men. As they are." Arnold shrugged dejectedly. "They will only stem the tide for only a little while."

"Do you think there are any truths to the story we heard the other day?"

"Which one?"

"The one about the warriors."

Arnold leaned back on his elbows and stared pensively out at the water. "They have no proof that these warriors even existed. If they actually had something concrete, I would be a little more optimistic."

"It couldn't hurt looking into it."

Arnold looked over at Bridged. A smile teased at the corners of his mouth. "If you think that there is hope in that story, then I say we see where it goes."

Bridged smiled before she leaned over and kissed Arnold. "Continue training the warriors. I will ask Nakira for help. She seems to be fascinated with those stories. I'm sure that she knows someone we can talk to."

Arnold grabbed Bridged and pulled her back down for another kiss. Bridged couldn't help but giggle as Arnold kissed her. Bridged sifted so that she was lying atop Arnold. It was easier to kiss him that way and Bridged loved feeling Arnold's hard length beneath her.

Bridged was content to kiss Arnold for the rest of the day. She needed to do something to get his mind off of the plight that they were in. If she didn't, he would spend the rest of the day worrying. Their problems would still be there tomorrow.