Verdigris Ravine if we lose our touch, it won’t mean much

nestled between the jaws of redstone arch, qiao studied her readings.

@Ephraim returned from a jaunt in the riverwater. their camp was makeshift, away from the prying eyes of the tribe.

i’ve learned of the natives of this region. they call themselves tribe. qiao set aside the broken face of a toothsome conch, eyes traveling to ephraim to read his dark face.

With his fur still slicked into damp points, Ephraim found his companion in the shade of a colossal sandstone arch. The conch clutched between her paws earned a cursory glance; by now he was accustomed to her odd practices.

How quaint, he said, settling down on the rough ground and dragging his tongue over his wet foreleg to smooth the fur. He was never one to care much for his appearance before, but couldn't deny that had recently changed. And how might they be of use to you?

the comb, the tooth, and the moon. the sigils of this to’lang would take time to dissect.

qiao collected her wares, thin bones come to settle alongside ephraim. as of late a sheen had come to bloom among his fur.

the road agreed with him. this tribe has no hierarchy, but a woman named s’ari operates as its mediator. there are five of them. a look now to the lightness of his frame. it seems any who are seen as coyote are welcome. they may be resourceful allies to have.

Five of them. Ephraim weighed the odds in his head and found them wanting, his dissatisfaction flitting in a tight-lipped grimace over his face. Who could say where the strengths of this tribe lay? Qiao and he could find themselves drugged and dragged across the desert to an altar for some blood god worshipped by primitive sand-dwelling beasts for all he knew.

To what end? asked Ephraim, squinting up at the bright blue sky through an opening in the archway. Allies were useful only until a better opportunity came along, and then they'd as soon bury their fangs in your throat. What do your spirits tell you?

ephraim's narrow muzzle tilted skyward, yellow gaze tracking mindless clouds as they shepherded across a plain of endless blue.

they were a good pair, these two. ephraim's pragmatism often reined in qiao's ancient irritability. it turned out the more revolutions one had around the sun, the less they tolerated those who lived underneath it.

the end would be their use to us. good food, safety, the barter of any goods. qiao looked down upon the rib bone, its ivory edges carved by teeth decades before. the spirits are strange. they say little, and then say too much. one sigil keeps reappearing - a warning, and a fox.

Ephraim couldn't argue with that, though he was loathe to admit it and it showed in the slight scrunching of his muzzle right before his eyes. He did not want to entrust his life to a bunch of skittish sand-rats, even with the taotaomo'na at his back. Then again, Qiao was a coyote, and he had nothing but the utmost respect for her.

Wait and see, then. Resignation darkened his pale eyes as he swept them down to her conch shell.

No shortage of foxes in a place like this, he remarked, sweeping the canyon with a narrow expression. Accustomed as he was to coastal climes, Ephraim found it intolerably dry here in the desert, but knew it to be a haven for other species, including their tiny vulpine cousins. He grinned and stretched languidly onto his side, aiming a teasing paw toward the conch. He wouldn't dare touch it, and imagined she would admonish him for even hinting at it. Not hard to imagine being set upon by them in the night.

if they steal my to’lang in the night, we will simply have to poison them. a playful tone that did not quite measure to the severity of her gaze. 

as ephraim’s lean limbs stretched towards the conch, qiao gave a quick rap of one thin paw. would you and your taotaomona like a reading?

The lash of travel-worn pads on his lean minge limb produced a cheekier smile as he snatched back his own paw. He knew better than to touch her trinkets, just as he knew better than to doubt the threat in her words despite her tone or expression.

A feeling like static raced down his spine at the mention of the taotaomona, as it always did. She was always watching, and it seemed like she watched Qiao most of all. Indeed, he said, shuffling upright so his belly rested on the warm earth and his forelegs reached ahead of him. He was still skeptical of all this spiritual stuff, but the feeling of eyes on him always grew stronger when Qiao was up to her antics. Whether it was interest or disdain, he couldn't say.

For him, it was more interest than disdain these days.

the aura around ephraim had always intrigued qiao, but there were some things it forbade her to do by its bristling presence alone.

ephraim propped himself upright on his angled elbows, eyes upon her. but it was not his eyes alone that watched qiao.

there were times in private the seer had attempted to cast her to’lang to the earth and scy from the sigils what the spirits said of ephraim’s true nature. these efforts were always thwarted by a blue haze and a glare of streaking yellow.

qiao cast the sigil-bones into the red dirt.

One would think, after spending some time in the company of Qiao-ihla, Ephraim would pick up on a little of her magick. His eyes followed the to'lang as they tumbled over the earth, but when they settled, he was no wiser to the meaning than he ever had been.

Quelling the urge to shuffle impatiently, Ephraim returned his gaze to his companion. As always, his eyes snagged upon the strange assortment of items she wore around her neck before reaching ever so briefly to the olive of her eyes.

So? Am I destined for a horrific death by foxes? he wondered, and though it was a tongue-in-cheek remark, he felt a sudden familiar weakness and desire to flee steal through him.

eyes closed, qiao sent her energy out into the darkness. in these readings, the darkness always thrummed back. 

this time the only answer was the disapproving snarl of ephraim’s taotaomona. 

qiao sighed, for no spirits whispered and her internal starmap was dim.  once more the sigil-bones fell into a senseless jumble. 

no fox for you. the seer’s dry answer came. your sigil-bones are clouded by a great force. your friend, her gaze seemed to communicate. I’d hoped with your consent, things might be different. the implication she’d attempted this before went unspoken. tell me of your life before me.

Ephraim's lips pressed into a terse line, but he let Qiao's unspoken admission go without comment. Of course she had attempted to scry before. It explained why an occasional chill came over him even when he was alone, at times even while he was asleep. The jaws of the taotaomona hanging over him, no doubt.

What Qiao sought was not something Ephraim was willing to share, but he was careful to mask the glint of deceit from his face, knowing there was a chance she would see through him anyway. Had a ma, had a pa, some siblings, but didn't know any of them. I got separated from them young and was raised in a pack of warriors. Whackadoodle fanatics, most of them. The only fond memories he had these days were of Tux.

There was a war, but I saw no benefit to risking my neck, so I left in all the chaos. I was on my own after that, right up until I found you. Reunited with my sister somewhere in there, but it was brief. Nothing much in common besides blood. No mention of Caiaphas or the grotto. No hint of anything sinister having happened in his life, or the lives of his family. His past was his own to bear, and he was loathe to share it with anyone. Those wolves who raised me, they believed in some strange things. Lifelong loyalty or a price on your head. Reincarnation, but only for the vaunted commander. Could be she thirsts for vengeance even in death.

little in ephraim’s story suggested reason for the taotaomona which now hung over his head. if qiao suspected deceit, it did not show in her gaze heavy with ponderance.

tell me more of this commander. the seer set aside the senseless jumble of sigil-bones, wondering if the spirit which now rounded ephraim’s aura was the very same creature that once stood as ephraim’s vaunted commander.

Her name was Thuringwethil, but she liked to be called by her title of Heda. His memories of her were hazy. The years had warped his opinion of Drageda and Heda both. When he was one of them, he had practically worshipped the ground she walked on, but as soon as they named him natrona and dragged him down to their beach, his opinion of her had changed as well. They were the legacy, but it all started with her, including the poor treatment of those who moved on.

She believed she carried the souls of past commanders in her body. She was a woman of war and thought herself a god. I did, too, when I was young. He remembered the looks in the eyes of the Trigeda wolves. They were not the sort to be trifled with, and neither was she. Her pack fell apart after she died. Small wonder; they sabotaged themselves by placing a blood price on the head of anyone who dared to leave, and fought a battle that did not end well for them. If she was alive today, I imagine she would be greatly disappointed at how quickly her legacy crumbled.

He still believed Rusalka — his kin — had started that war, but he was plenty old enough now, and no longer influenced by the old bias, to know it was more complicated than that. There was a reason he coveted that grotto. It was the same reason that drew Caiaphas back to it again and again and again. It was in his blood as surely as it had been in hers.

Would he have stopped at threats and snarls, if he sought to claim the home of his clan, his birthright, and someone high and mighty opposed him? He didn't think he would any longer, and so he could better appreciate the Rusalkan side of that conflict.

qiao listened, ears canted forward as she was transported into the murky world of the past; to the distant shores of ephraim’s very origin. 

the aura around him seemed to snake — a snarl thrummed through the sigil bones held between her paws. 

the motion passed as ephraim’s words turned to heda’s legacy of ruin and disappointment. in this, qiao was certain — whatever spirit possessed this taotaomona knew little of a crumbling legacy. i do not think it is your heda. qiao offered, composing the sigil bones again with care. they thrummed with an energy she could not read.