The Eight of Earth

6: Riley Holt- *Three For One*

I've always tended to move with more urgency than he does. He's too calculated for my tastes. Sometimes you aren't going to know what's around the corner, but what's life without a little surprise?

Bug guts make a slimy paste against my hand as I smack the insect trying to make a snack of my neck. I wish the myrite paste worked to keep them off our skin like it does our hair, but unfortunately, it doesn't.

I smack another bug along my leg, and I wipe the mixture of guts and sweat on my shirt.

It's so damn hot...

Remmy continues to lag behind as usual. I don't know if fear is the right emotion to describe it, but something inside pulls at him. Keeps him cautious to a fault. He wants us to "farm". As if that's a realistic way of life for us. I tell him farming requires land. Land needs to be tended. To tend land, you need time, consistency, and stability. I glance back to him as he fusses with a vine that's snagged a strap of our pack and laugh at the proposition. Our entire lives are in that pack, and he wants to play house. We are nomads; we have none of these. Sometimes, I think he forgets why we left Okotall in the first place. That awful house with those dreadful people. Not one person in the entire province would take us in. Not one. Left us to rot in Archler House with those maniacs after Emoss died. Valenians will never accept us. Never. Gwinn is a fool for staying. They're all fools for trusting the people of this planet. Creatures are threatened by what they don't understand, so as long as we're alive, they'll always view us as a threat.

The moment we plot out a chunk of land, grow some Tullie or Red Root, get a herd of livestock, and play happy farmer family, is the moment we stop moving. The moment we stop moving, the world knows where to find us. And the moment the world knows where to find us, they will. I'll take my chances in the woods with a spear and my brother.

Remmy clicks his tongue, signaling me to stop. He points his fingers to his eyes then down at the grass next to him. Another track pressed into the soft edge of the brush. Deeper this time. Fresh. It's a good find; I don't know how I missed it.

He shoots me a little victorious smirk. Always relishing my rare moments of error. I roll my eyes and poke the blunt end of my spear at him. He bats it away and grins.

I nod my head forward and mouth, "They're close."

We follow the tracks so deep into the woods, I no longer recognize the landscape. It's a corner of Berban so remote, Sentinel teams don't even bother patrolling it. Or maybe they're scared to. Either way, it's one threat we don't have to worry about.

The farther we go, the less distinct the trail becomes. The thin thicketed trees of before are replaced with scattered behemoths of trunks. Their vast girth stretching so high into the sky the canopy seems in the clouds. And the cluttered Forest floor opens into pure wilderness. Untouched by intelligent life. A place where beasts rule.

We have to be sure of what we're doing. We only have one chance at this. I don't remember the last time we caught a trail of a Tyko. Just one of their horns would trade for a months' worth of the usual scores.

The soft trail ends and with it our tracks. But I know we're close. I push forward quicker; I don't want to lose it.

"Easy, Ri..." Remmy whispers the warning. Even his hushed voice startles me. My mind so consumed with tracking this beauty. He can tell I'm getting antsy. He thinks I want this too much. I think he's crazy for not wanting it more!

Bits of his boring lecture from earlier rattles around in my brain. "... we'll be fine without it... deaf ears... visions of grandeur... not grounded in reality... you're bored... rather be bored than dead..." I love him to death, but I need more adventure in my life than picking berries and selling myrite dust to envoys.