As they ate, they spoke of their plans, or rather Etelka’s plans. (Pool was there merely as an assistant—or in his mind—a protector.)
“Tomorrow, we shall rise at sunrise, break camp and head into the woods, aiming for the location from which they came at us last time.” She tilted her head to the [east?].
“They were aggressive before, Baroness,” he said. “What if they are again?”
“I was thinking of bringing them, their tribe, their community—however we shall call them—a gift. In most human cultures it is the appropriate action from guests to hosts. If they are social animals it might work.”
Pool saw her clearly optimistic expression, that bit of glee Etelka got when she was on to something or when she had invented something new. It encouraged him, though deep down inside, in the part that he would shortly write down in his notebook, he did have his doubts and a dark foreboding.
The night was moonless and clear and the stars were vivid. Etelka wished she was back at her house in Kekszemu with her observatory. They were not harassed but kept three hour watches over the smoldering embers, with the faint lights of Baba Yaga’s Hut hanging over them.
In the salmon-pink pre-dawn light, Pool awoke to Etelka already heating some water on the re-stacked coals of last night’s fire. It was only a small camp-pot, and a sizable portion of the water they had brought with them—they would have to find a source in the forest—but would suffice for their coffee and porridge.
While the water was coming to a slow boil, she peeped up over the ruined wall with the telescope [?] and scanned the tree line.
The camp was hastily packed up while the morning dew was still on the shrub’s branches—they would regret it later from the mildew on the canvas. Pool kicked some dirt and rubble over the embers, displaying care for the environment out of place for his time.
The salmon sky of the morning, strands of clouds illuminated by the dawn, gave an etherial vibe to their departure. Ahead were a dark and deep green and black tangle of ancient oaks.
Work in progress. Mistakes and misspellings are present. This is a very rough draft. Copyright 2021 Ion Fyr
#sci-fi #science fiction #fantasy #writing #short story #ion fyr
Ion Fyr 