Forever a devout guardian, since they heard a wolf-like dog or dog-like wolf baying throughout the night, it only made sense that Bazil's few words to her were mostly about being wary of said creature.
She did catch a glimpse of white-silver fur at the corner of her eye when they readied to leave, but it seemed to disappear the moment she turned to it.
I must be exhausted. But I won't give my dear guardian the satisfaction.
He did try at some point in the journey to talk about things that traced to their childhood and even tried telling silly jokes like he used to. But she could only bring herself to nod.
Whenever she did try to close the gap, it was usually by stepping towards him. Yet as expected, he'd always step right back.
Since the heat was scorching, she didn't bother to cloak herself. He noticed but knew better than to say something. She had long stopped trying to appease his brooding.
Instead, she'd stop when she wanted, she'd strip as much as was convenient, and would talk about whatever she pleased, even if it had him clicking his jaw.
He could click his jaw until it snapped right off for all she cared.
By midday, they passed by a small fold of open land, showing a few empty tented stalls and dead fires with abandoned pots.
The horses stopped mid-trod upon looking at something.
At the sound of a hiss, they whinnied and jumped. Salīa and Bazil instantly hopped off.
Before them was another thick snake, very much with the same V-shaped, keeled scales and dark, ominous eyes as the one before. It coiled back, flattening its head and sticking out its forked tongue.
As it darted forth, it was impaled.
They looked to the tall, slender man who crushed the snake's neck with the curved-bladed side of his xira.
He flipped it around to the part that resembled a trident, flanked by small, curved blades, and centered with a straight-headed spear. He spiked it into the body and tossed it into a small, cast-iron pot.
Only then did they exchange glances.
"It's called a cape night adder," he said, clicking, sharing hints of tribal tongue. He tapped against the inscribed drawing of the snake that was marked on each pot. "This land has no name, but it has many of those things."
"Do you keep them for rituals or medicine?" Bazil asked.
It took Salīa a moment to realize that Bazil was speaking in his tribal tongue.
The man gave him a sidelong glance and answered in the same tongue, "We keep them for food."
They what?
Salīa pursed her lips.
"I understand," Bazil said. "As warriors, it's our duty to survive first, no matter what, to help our people. As a fellow zazi, I too know that being placed somewhere for too long can limit provisions."
Is this what they recite in Pasang? But Chief Raino would never say this.
"I thought I spotted a fellow zazi," the man clicked his tongue freely.
He then made a sloppy x with his arms.
"Brother, feel free to join us for a meal. I'm sure you and the…zaza," his eyes lingered on her. "have travelled long."
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