Greater Familiarity

“… you animals!~~”

“m-my mates… you k-killed them!~~””

Why!?~~”

“WHY!?~~”

“RAAAHGhhh!” Rihas awakens with a violent, tortured jolt, his heart racing and body covered with sweat.

It has been the same occurrences these past few mornings as his growing sense of dread intensifies. He had experienced something similar in the days leading up to the pillaging of his village twelve cycles ago. Though he did not understand it then, there is no denying what he is experiencing now. Mehetabel and Tamah’s dire warnings simply confirmed what his instinct has been screaming to him for days, “something terrible is coming.”

He buries his face into his cupped hands and exhales unevenly. The dreams are becoming worse. Unfamiliar smells and the odd reverberation of every slight noise prompt him to collect his wits and temper his emotional mask. Awareness floods in all at once as the cloak of sleep slips away. He had retired with his two companions inside the transport after Mehetable came looking for him within the ruins.

In the ideal situation, neither Mehetabel nor Tamah was disturbed by his outburst, and both still rest in deep slumber. Rihas breathes a heavy sigh and then lifts his face from his hands to find both women staring at him with confused dismay clouding their sleepy expressions. Rihas groans, returning his face into cupped hands. Clearly, this is not the ideal situation.

A wise and aged village leader once bore the burden of training a young Rihas in the nomadic scouting disciplines. He had become a sort of surrogate father to Rihas after the boy parted from his birth tribe. He had learned many valuable truisms from the enormously respected elder. Among those noteworthy precepts was this: “When there is nothing to say, say nothing.”

With this lesson in mind, Rihas quietly exits the transport and greets the early morning sun. Yesterday after dark, before being intercepted by Mehetabel, Rihas had heard the telltale gurgling sounds associated with running water and was searching for its source. The pool is easily located in the early daylight. He reconnoiters the area, seeking beasts, predators, or other hidden dangers. Finding nothing, he approaches the inviting pool of clean, flowing water.

It is an excellent discovery that helps lift Rihas’ dark mood. Water gushing from numerous fissures in a craggy hillside adjacent to the ruins eroded away the broken flagstone floor to form a retaining pool, easily twenty paces in both breadth and width. Clear, refreshing water circulates throughout the basin, exiting at a point opposite the hillside, down to a lower level of the structure, where it disappears into the dense, overgrown wilderness of the Graves.

Surveying the area to establish that he is still alone, Rihas strips bare and then wades into the pool, washing away accumulated dirt and sweat from yesterday’s efforts and last night’s restless sleep. Bathing to remove odors and musk produced by the body is instinctual to animals. It is no different for humans. Success in this scouting mission will require exploiting every bit of knowledge he has learned and leaning on his every skill to its limit. They cannot afford to attract predators with a tempting, fragrant trail conveniently laid by three tasty humans.

Rihas had hoped to be completed with bathing before the two women grew curious and set out to find him. Their scents carrying on the wind inform him otherwise. Though he has not yet learned their unique smells and would likely be unable to identify them within a gathering, he has become familiar enough with them to rule out unknown intruders. What’s more, both women smell of arousal. Not surprising knowing the bond they share together. But it is a problem considering they are traipsing through the Graves – a known hunting ground for giant predators.

Tamah is first to emerge from the ruins into the space occupied by the pool, “I found him! He’s here, Mehet… ”

Her words fall flat, and her face turns bright red from shock at seeing Rihas’ unclad figure standing knee-deep in the pool.

Mehetabel emerges behind Tamah and then stops cold, “…o-oh, oh my.”

Rihas shakes his head, hung in vexation, then shrugs his massive shoulders.

“Well, now that you are here, it would benefit you each to bathe. I smelled you both before I heard you.”, Rihas grumbles quietly in perfectly concealed irritation.

“H-how …dare…,” Mehetable stutters bashfully, looking for a way out of her current predicament but unable to avert her gaze from Rhias’ exposed figure.

Wading to where his clothes are piled on the shore, Rihad collects them while reiterating his previous imperative, “Come in and bathe. I will wash the dirt and sweat out of my garments there by the outlet. You will have the center of the pool undisturbed.”

“You are mad if you presume we are going to…” Mehetabel sets her jaw and begins to bark authoritatively.

Her voice is instantly canceled by Rihas’ quick and fierce rejoinder, “I have lost too many young scouts to predators over an error so simple as neglecting to remove accumulated odors before an excursion. Reserve whatever modesty customs your village may observe, for your village.”

Mehetable’s face screws tight with outrage, “I will NOT be TOLD…”

Reinforced by an intimidating physical presence, Rihas’ in-command voice is fearsome. He continues over Mehetabel’s protest with a forceful inflection both women had believed the reserved nomad incapable of invoking, “We are SCOUTS! We are in THE GRAVES! Remove your gear and wash yourselves EVERYWHERE!”

Tamah had never seen Mehetable flinch away from a confrontation, let alone recoil as she had done just now. The older woman’s emotional emanations reveal anxious textures of egress and compliance to a surprising degree. Tamah had experienced it also, though she never expected a similar reaction from Mehetabel.

“Come, we need to bathe. You made a mess of me earlier, so it’s time to clean up, ” Tamah whispers intimately to her troubled companion.

Still perturbed and uncertain, Mehetabel nods and follows Tamah quietly to the bathing pool.

Rihas returns after foraging a bounty of edible flora. Making a lattice from the stalks of nearby reeds, Rihas heats the food over the fire on his makeshift grate, explaining the importance of purging wild edibles of contaminants before eating.

His companions have become uncommonly aloof since the earlier bathing incident. While technically considered an empath, Rihas’ ability is underdeveloped and typically useful only for noticing attempts at deception or sensing powerful, overwhelming emotions. Through no lack of trying, he finds himself incapable of reading their moods. They eat in silence until Rihas explains how they will conduct the search for Cedar.

Any chance she has of surviving alone in the Graves will require a nearby body of water and easy access to hiding places for encounters with beasts or giant predators. Coincidently, their own survival is dependent upon the same conditions. He had followed the outflow from the pool for a short distance while gathering food this morning. The stream widens considerably farther away, and small clusters of second-world ruins follow the shoreline into the observable span ahead. Navigating the waterway will prevent them from becoming disoriented and wandering circles through the dense wilderness. Also, by following the shoreline, they will enjoy a clear line of sight.

The women answer in terse, single-word responses when prompted to itemize the contents of their packs, convey the condition of their footwear, and express their overall readiness to begin a full-day trek. Rihas is no stranger to working with haughty and defiant young scouts who have already deduced for themselves the entire sum of knowledge this world has to offer. While the circumstances may be dissimilar, the scenario is the same. Mehetabel does not defer to anyone.

It is a lesson he has taught a dozen times over. Granted, it has always been conducted within the relative safety offered by the Hinterlands, absent a crushing time constraint. Her demeanor leaves him little choice, however. If the current dynamic is permitted to continue unchecked, it will spell disaster for the excursion. She will continue demanding to lead unless she willingly chooses to follow.

Nomaic scouts are trained in a diverse range of skills, which include deliberation and parlay. Thanks in no small part to his empathic trait, Rihas is generally regarded to be without a peer among nomads where diplomacy is involved.

Without revealing any measure of his deep loathing for this unnecessary diversion, Rihas quietly yields to Mehetabel, “Please, proceed at your pleasure. I will keep the flank.”

Her expression snaps in response – her eyes narrowed, and her face carved with a deep, resentful frown. She stands abruptly without speaking and snatches her pack from the ground. Shouldering it with an exaggerated jerking motion, she clicks her tongue, spins on her heel, then marches off in a huff. Tamah, uncertain how to react, springs up from her seated position. Wielding her pack unevenly, she turns inelegantly to chase after Mehetabel but loses balance and falls in an awkward heap onto the rocky floor.

“Rihas! Just …stop it!” Tamah cries tears of frustration, “This is not productive!”

Mehetabel halts her march a dozen paces ahead. With her back to Tamah and Rihas, she speaks with a voice barely audible over the sound of moving water, quoting Rihas from the previous day, “We share the work within our tribe according to our strengths.”

Rihas steps forward, offering his hand to Tamah for leverage and support. He grins only slightly as he replies, “You are correct.”

“I failed to observe how you naturally resigned initiative upon encountering the vehicle yesterday,” Mehetabel continues.

“Indeed,” Rihas agrees.

“You’ve made your point, male,” Mehetabel announces regally, “I acknowledge your greater familiarity in this one discipline and will follow your lead.”

Regarding Tamah first, who offers him a demure nod indicating she is unhurt physically, Rihas stiffens as he resumes his role as a scout, teacher, and guide, “Then we should begin. We have much ground to cover.”

Three travelers cling to the rocky shoreline of a turbulent, white-water creek until the landscape levels out and several tributaries merge to become a broad, lazy river. They are fortunate to encounter neither beasts nor predators in their path. Their progress is not always easy. The shoreline disappears, at times, into dense wilderness. Other times it becomes elevated where the river flows through a steep, rocky ravine. But they move carefully forward, scouring every ruin along their path for a trace of their lost comrade.

By the arrival of mid-day, the two female travelers, who are better accustomed to life in a village, find themselves all but spent. Realizing their condition, the guide calls the team to shelter inside a small, crumbling, second-world compound. He locates a solid standing structure for them to escape the withering heat and unforgiving sun. As the women recover their strength, the guide forages.

Tamah breathes a sigh of relief as Mehetable wearily awakens, reposed on three traveling packs her companions had arranged to provide a modicum of comfort.

“Ahhh, my head,” Mehetabel grumbles.

“You pushed yourself too hard and were overcome by heat,” Tamah says while wiping a cool rag over Mehatabel’s forehead, “You’ve been burning up much of the afternoon.”

“Mmmm,” Mehetabel grumbles again, “And the male?”

“His name is Rihas. He has gathered and prepared a meal for us and is now ‘keeping watch’ while pacing up and down the waterfront.”

“Blaming himself, is he?” Mehetabel looks toward the lit entryway of the building they occupy.

“He cares about us, Mehetabel,” Tamah pleads, “I know you don’t care about him. But he still does, regardless.”

“You’re sweet, Tamah,” Mehetabel chuckles, “but none too bright.”

“Hey!” Tamah flings water from the rag onto Mehetabel’s face in thick, wet drops.

The room darkens abruptly as Rihas’ silhouette fills the entryway, his voice colored with deep concern, “I thought I’d heard talking. Thank the Spirit.”

Rihas enters and sits across from Mehetabel, “How are you feeling? Are you comfortable enough? I’ve prepared food for…” He is interrupted by a burst of snickering erupting from Tamah.

“What? Did I say something humorous?” Rihas furrows his brow in confusion, causing Mehetabel to join in the snickering.

Mehetabel stops short of verbalizing her thought that Rihas has developed an unusually astute mothering instinct. Thankfully, she is struck before speaking with the candid realization that, in his circumstance, it has been a necessity. She stares into the scout’s eyes, searching for some glimmer of emotion but knowing she will find none. She has not yet earned a fraction of the trust needed to witness such an act of vulnerability. In truth, she has not yet gained any.

Rihas continues to speak while Mehetable eats foraged morsels and drinks water sanitized through boiling, “I’ve been waiting until Mehetabel awakens to share an important discovery,” Rihas reaches into a pouch and extracts a torn swatch of cloth. “I found this and another smaller piece hanging from a thorny branch nearby. It reeks intensely of secretions made by the insects we encountered yesterday. More importantly, it smells faintly of human sweat.”

Mehetabel’s eyes open wide in amazement. If she weren’t so tired, she would hug Rihas. Allowing herself a hopeful smile and a shred of optimism, she avows,

“It’s Cedar!”