Page 59 of The Weaver

“We don’t exactly have a choice. Sweating is just a natural thing that occurs to help regulate our body temperature. It’s how we cool off in the heat.”

“We will stop soon, Ahmya. Then you may leak in the shade.”

Ahmya laughed. Despite the humidity, it felt good to be out here, felt good to be seeing the Tangle. It felt good to have Rekosh with her. It would’ve been nice to have reached this point without almost dying several times along the way, but now that they were out here, she was determined to enjoy herself.

And she was. There was no need to rush—no vengeful queens chasing them, no disasters forcing them onward at a breakneck pace. It was just her and Rekosh surrounded by nature in all its beauty.

Their journey had been filled with conversation, though unsurprisingly, he had done most of the talking. And Ahmya had been content to listen. She was eager to learn more about him.

He’d told her about his trip to Takarahl with Urkot and Telok, about how different it was with Ahnset as queen. How peaceful. The vrix who called the city home were no longer hungry because their hunters provided for all rather than being forced to deliver their kills to Zurvashi. The city was flourishing, with broodlings playing in the tunnels and vrix no longer hiding in fear.

Rekosh had also mentioned that Urkot had helped sculpt statues in honor of Ivy and Ella in Takarahl’s heart, a chamber called the Den of Spirits.

The thought of those statues brought a smile to Ahmya’s face, but it was tinged with sadness.

The cards fate had dealt to Ella had been unfair, and so very cruel. She’d suffered from the moment she’d awoken from cryosleep due to stasis sickness, and her health had deteriorated every day. It’d only been a matter of time before she would’ve succumbed to her condition. But she’d still lived each day to thefullest, looking upon this alien world with wonder sparkling in her eyes.

As Ahmya and Rekosh had trekked onward through the jungle, he’d answered her questions about the plants, animals, birds, and insects they passed, and even shared vrix myths about some of them. He also went out of his way to point out flowers she might’ve missed amidst the vegetation. Over the hours they’d been walking, his English had noticeably improved, and she’d picked up more vrix thanks to him so often using his native language and translating it for her afterward.

But for as much as Rekosh spoke, he never said anything about his father, mother, or siblings. He never told other stories from when he was a broodling, or how he and the other vrix in their tribe used to spend their time. Rekosh had offered no details about his past, which was odd for him, as he delighted in storytelling.

She wanted to know those things about him. Wanted to know everything, really. But based on the little he’d told her yesterday, his childhood had not been a happy one. Perhaps he just didn’t want to dredge up old, painful memories.

Her heart squeezed at the thought of him being hurt as a child.

Dropping her hair, Ahmya stepped onto a narrow rock formation that ran up the side of a small hill, spreading her arms to the sides to keep her balance with her spear help upright. The stone was worn, cracked, and crumbling, and was being swallowed by dirt and plant growth on one side, but the long, relatively flat tiers seemed decidedly like stairs.

The area the rock steps led up to was fairly level, and though it was shaded by the boughs of towering trees, it felt like a clearing—or rather like it had been a clearing long ago. Like…a glade carved out of the jungle.

Thick roots had pushed up chunks of stone from theground, and more rock lay scattered about, much of it overgrown with plants. At the center of it all was a small pool, fed by a spring bubbling from some of those rocks.

Long-stemmed flowers that looked like a cross between peonies and roses grew along the edge of the steps and around the pool. The leafy stems were tall, some of them taller than Ahmya, and were topped with large, lush white and pink blossoms. The air was fragrant with their sweet perfume.

Ahmya stopped, brushing her fingers over the petals of the nearest blossom. They were velvety soft. “What are these?”

“They are calledsyth’keishahl.”

“Silkblossom?”

Rekosh trilled. “Yes. It is said they came to be when the Weaver gifted the Rootsinger some of his finest silk. She knew it would not last forever, and that made her hearts heavy with sadness. She wanted to share such beauty with all vrix. So, she planted his silk in the ground, and from it grew these flowers. Now everyone may enjoy the beauty of that silk as she enjoyed it long, long ago.”

“That’s a lovely story.” Ahmya leaned forward and inhaled, drawing in the flower’s scent. She hummed appreciatively and continued on. Rekosh kept pace with her as they ascended the steps.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Rekosh, can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

Ahmya stopped on the highest tier and faced him. “Would you tell me more about your childhood? About when you were a broodling?”

Rekosh halted, and his lower hands grasped his sash, adjusting its lay across his chest. His mandibles twitched. “When I was a broodling…”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” she rushed to say, waving her palms. “I…I don’t want to pry. I know you were hurt, that other vrix bullied you. So if you don’t want to tell me anything else, that’s okay.

“I just…” She drew her spear against her chest and clutched it. “I want to know about you.Allof you.”

His gaze lingered on her briefly before he turned it away, raking it across their surroundings. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through breaks in the canopy, including a rather large one over the rock Ahmya stood upon, making the flowers especially vibrant.

With the spring’s gentle trickling combining with the other jungle sounds, this spot was almost serene.

---