Private Tales Same Gods, Different Texts

[Rowan Mars]

Apep landed his massive frame with a heavy thud, sending ripples through the earth around him. Rowan dismounted with practiced ease, sliding down alongside the black dragon's forelimb to avoid the large, venomous spines and claws along Apep's hind legs and tail. He walked to the edge of the plateau and knelt, peering out over the vast expanse. Smoke rose from a singular area below. Sure as Rowan could see them, he knew the Thagretans below could see him.

Thanasis and Thagretis had been civil for some time, but tensions never left. While both societies worshipped dragons, there were notable differences in how. Thanasians found the Thagretan texts blasphemous, and vice versa.

Now there had been word that a group of Thagretan settlers had begun foraging nearer to Thanasis' territory. To avoid an all-out conflict, only Rowan and one other rider had been sent to investigate. Observe, report, but do not contact, those were the instructions.

Apep was not the obvious choice for a scouting mission. He was large and notably violent. A pitch-black silhouette atop a cliff was easy to spot, and the green venom that dripped from his teeth did not project "dioplomacy." This was, of course, intentional. Rowan and Apep had been sent here to be as much scout as warning. Intimidation, without outright provocation. Thanasis knew Rowan could keep Apep under control, while the dragon could inspire more fear than its polite rider.

The other rider Rowan would meet here, as they had been assigned from different locations. He had not been given a name, only that she would be riding a white dragon.

Briseis

 

[Briseis]

Ciraxis descended from the sky with the grace of a falling snowflake, his white scales glinting in the sunlight as his powerful wings beat the air in slow, deliberate strokes. Despite his size, the dragon’s landing was much softer than one might expect, his talons finding purchase on the rocky ground with barely a sound. Briseis, perched upon his back, clung tightly to the saddle, her posture tense and unsure.

As soon as Ciraxis’ claws touched the earth, Briseis released a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. She was getting better at this—at least at the flying part—but the anxiety that gnawed at her whenever she had to dismount in front of others still hadn’t subsided. With a practiced, but still slightly awkward, motion, she swung her leg over the saddle and slid down Ciraxis' side, landing with a soft thud on the ground below.

Briseis paused, taking in the scene before her. She spotted the other rider standing near the edge of the plateau. His dragon was impossible to miss. The massive black beast loomed like a shadow, its venomous spines and claws gleaming menacingly. Now that was a creature designed to inspire fear, and he did so with ease.

Ciraxis shifted slightly, his blue eyes watching the larger dragon with a calm but alert gaze. She couldn't help but notice the contrast as she looked between the two dragons. Ciraxis was a magnificent creature, yes, but there was a softness to him that could not measure up to the black dragon's intimidating presence. She was so out of her depth.

Swallowing her nerves, Briseis forced herself to walk forward, her boots crunching softly on the gravel as she approached the other rider. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but as she neared him, she could see the calm confidence in his stance, the kind of self-assurance that she envied but couldn’t quite emulate.

Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a simple tie, though loose waves had been swept free to frame her delicate face. Hazel eyes held a hint of uncertainty as they flitted between Rowan and the massive black dragon beside him. Clad in practical brown flight leathers, the supple material hugged her lithe form while offering the protection necessary for dragon riding. The outfit, though well-fitted and functional, bore the subtle marks of wear—a testament to her recent, rigorous training. Despite her slight stature, there was an undeniable strength in her posture, a quiet determination that belied the nervous energy she struggled to contain.

“I presume you're the one I'm to meet..” she called out, her voice steady, though it took effort to keep it that way. She stopped a safe distance away, giving a polite nod. “I’m Bri- eh, Mis- Lady Briseis..." she sighed and rolled her eyes at herself. "Briseis."

Ciraxis lowered his head slightly, snorting softly as if sensing her unease. Briseis reached out to pat his neck, finding a small measure of comfort in the familiar gesture. "Excuse our tardiness, My Lord?.."

 

[Rowan Mars]

Apep detected the approaching pair before Rowan did. The white dragon did not stand out so sorely in the bright sunlight, but its scales did gleam when they caught the sun in the right way. If Apep was silhouette upon the cliffside, Ciraxis would be a beacon.

Rowan continued to observe the small camp below through a small spyglass. They had build up walls that obscured much of his view, but what he could see was... not very interesting. He fought the urge to turn and watch the other rider land and dismount. He had not grown up with dragons in his back yard like some of the nobility, and so still greatly enjoyed watching them. This, however, outed him as low-born rather quickly, he had found out.

Briseis' voice found Rowan's ear and he turned to finally face her. She was slight of stature, almost a foot shorter than him, and somewhat willowy. Features that would be a detriment on foot could be quite advantageous in the air. She was less likely to be thrown about by turns and likely didn't have to content with as much wind ripping at her in the sky. Rowan had often wished her could lie lower, sink into Apep's scales to avoid the freezing wind, but everything about the black dragon was sharp and angry and uncomfortable.

Apep exhaled slowly through steaming nostrils to acknowledge Ciraxis' arrival. His breath was sour and acidic, and his green eyes gleamed without malice, but also devoid of any warmth whatsoever.

Rowan, on the other hand, offered Briseis a subtle but soft smile. Not a grin, nothing so informal, but a gentle curve of the lip and a relaxation of his face. The smile widened just a hair at her stumbling. Was she nervous? Briseis, now why did that sound familiar?

"Rowan," he replied, gently extending a hand in greeting. "Just... Rowan."

He turned back to the ledge and took a step towards the edge. "And not to worry, you haven't missed much." He offered Briseis the small bronze telescope and indicated the settlement below. "Could be miners, they've brought some large carts and beasts of burden, but what they could be digging for out here I don't know."

 

[Briseis]

His subtle smile caught her off guard, and she found herself returning it, if only briefly, before her gaze dropped to the ground, embarrassed by her own unease.

"Just Rowan," she echoed quietly and hesitated for the briefest moment before reaching out to shake his hand. She was still getting used to these formalities, these moments of contact that still felt so foreign to her despite their simplicity. But Rowan’s straightforwardness put her at ease, if only a little.

The white dragon let out a soft huff, his breath warm against the cool air. He dipped his head slightly, acknowledging Apep with a soft, rumbling purr. Briseis quickly realised her oversight and turned to her dragon with an apologetic smile.

“Oh, and this is Ciraxis.” she said. The dragon preened.

As Rowan turned back to the ledge, Briseis followed him, her eyes darting from the dragons to the vast landscape below. The plateau offered a commanding view of the terrain, and she found herself momentarily awed by the sight. When Rowan offered her the telescope, she accepted it with a nod of thanks, trying to mask her inexperience.

Briseis stared at the instrument for a moment before lifting it to her eye and frowning. "They're a little far away.. Can't we get closer?" she asked with a frown, squinting at the tiny dots she could see moving around.

 

[Rowan Mars]

“If we get much closer they may take it as aggres-…”he stopped abruptly after looking back to Briseis. It took him a solid three seconds to piece together what he was seeing. “…sion.” He reached out to gently, yet firmly, take the telescope and flip it around so that the correct end was facing Briseis.

It was difficult for him to mask his initial incredulity. Who had they sent him? Was this rider as green as she seemed? He knew this was a low-risk assignment but an inexperienced rider was not a good choice for sensitive political boundaries.

Apep seemed to agree, and made a low chirping rattle towards Ciraxis. Something communicating the general sentiment of “are you serious?”

“You should see more easily like this,” Rowan recovered, fixing his face. It would do no good to dwell on this hiccup.

 

[Briseis]

Briseis watched him somewhat timidly as he plucked the device from her hands, her cheeks igniting with heat as she realised that she'd already made a mistake. Gods, the look on his face. What was she doing here?
She cleared her throat and for a moment she stared at the instrument, mortified.

"Right," she muttered, her voice tight with embarrassment. She hesitated for a brief second before raising it to her eye once more.

The figures below suddenly snapped into sharp focus, appearing far closer than she had expected. Startled by how much detail she could now see, Briseis instinctively ducked, her breath catching in her throat as if the people below might notice her movement. Gods, I’m an idiot.

Ciraxis let out a low rumble of amusement beside her, which only deepened her embarrassment. She straightened quickly, clearing her throat and forcing herself to remain composed, though she couldn’t quite meet Rowan’s eyes.

"Yes that’s…much better, thank you," she mumbled, feeling utterly ridiculous. The urge to disappear into the ground was overwhelming, but instead, she focused on the figures below, hoping her flinch had gone unnoticed. She doubted it. He’d already been staring at her with that look, the one people often gave her when they saw how new she was to all of this.

She tried to hide her humiliation by concentrating on the task at hand, squinting through the lens. "Miners, hm?" she asked, trying to shift the conversation back to the mission as though nothing had happened. "Must be valuable, whatever it is." she commented. Thagretans surely understood the risks venturing into Thanasian territory.

She couldn't see anything obvious, and handed the telescope back to Rowan with a frown. "What is our instruction?.." she asked hesitantly, hoping to the all the damned Gods that it didn't involve a fight. Surely Vhagor couldn't have been that cruel?

 

[Rowan Mars]

Rowan still couldn’t decide if he was amused or not. He certainly could not take his eyes off Briseis, watching as she recoiled from the spyglass like it was about to bite her.

She was pleasant to look at, and perhaps Rowan could have appreciated that had he not been wondering if he had done something upset command. They would not actually have sent him a fool… would they? He glanced at Ciraxis, a dragon who carried himself with pride and seemed to be of some… status. That dragon didn’t seem like it would suffer fools. She must have some other strength that could help on this mission. Either that, or she was just a pretty noble who had her dragon and position gifted to her.

“Our instruction,” he answered, looking back at the young woman, “is to investigate. Learn whatever we can without breaking any treaties.”

Apep grumbled at this, clearly wishing he could break several treaties. A drop of saliva fell from the end of an exposed fang and hit the ground, leaving a circle of grayed, withered plants around itself after a few seconds.

 

[Briseis]

Briseis felt Rowan’s eyes on her, the weight of his judgment. She could practically hear what he must have been thinking of her. That familiar knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach, the one she had learned to swallow over the last few months. She could almost feel the disappointment radiating from him, and her jaw tightened in response.

But Ciraxis stood tall beside her, his head held high and his presence a silent reminder of what she had endured to get here. His piercing gaze narrowed on Rowan, studying man and dragon both.

Briseis straightened her shoulders, “Of course,” she replied, lowering the spyglass and looking at Rowan with renewed determination in her gaze. “We’re not here to make enemies, just gather information. I understand.”

She glanced at Apep as the massive black dragon grumbled and dripped venom onto the ground. Ciraxis, ever calm and composed, observed the scene with his usual regal air, and Briseis took an instinctive step back, her hand reaching to settle on the shimmering, white scales.

She glanced up at Rowan, hoping her nerves weren’t as obvious as they felt. “He’s... certainly formidable,” she commented, her voice steadier than she felt. A thin veil of politeness covered the anxiety beneath.

 

[Rowan Mars]

Rowan filed away his initial impressions of Briseis for later analysis. Knowing his fellow riders was important, and he had just met the woman. Thus far she had been polite and focused. She had never used a spyglass... that was not tremendously important, he decided. He worked on softening his expression. It was not easy being a new rider, which was what he decided Briseis must be.

Ciraxis' expression was anything but soft, and it sent a chill down to Rowan's boots as was certainly intended. Green or no, Briseis was under her dragon's total protection, and Rowan had no desire to upset the shining demigod.

"He is," Rowan said in reply, "Though Apep is far too aware of it." The midnight-black dragon curled his serpentine neck and hissed lowly at his rider. "He believes I am not aware of it enough, but that is not so!" He turned to his mount and gestured with an upturned hand. "It is precisely because of how aware I am that I have not let you devour all those miners." Apep licked his lips in a theatrical demonstration of his unnaturally long tongue.

"Not yet," Rowan muttered, turning back to Briseis. The sun hit her hair just right to make it shine, a brown so rich it almost held a golden glow. He blinked away his musings. "Um... what I was thinking..." he said, clearing his throat. Her hair was not important, and his focus was not normally so easily diverted.

"...where did you say you were from?" That wasn't what he had been thinking. He had been thinking about the mission until a moment ago. Also, she hadn't said where she was from. He knew it. She knew it. It was the worst conversation segue Rowan had made to date.

 

[Briseis]

Briseis offered Rowan a small, tentative smile as he seemed to make some conscious effort to be a little less intimidating. Perhaps she hadn’t done too much damage. There was a flicker of relief, but it was quickly tempered by the thought of what might lie ahead. If things escalated and she had to take up arms… the very idea made her stomach twist. Vhagor had been nothing but clear about her shortcomings in combat, and yet he sent her here anyway. She hoped it would remain as Rowan had said, information gathering, for there was no amount of polite conversation that could mask how out of her depth she truly was.

Her gaze flicked to Apep once more, watching the venomous dragon with a careful balance of wariness and respect. Dragons were above all else in Thanasis—feared, revered, and loved in equal measure. Standing so close to such powerful creatures still left her in awe. Even Ciraxis, calm and regal at her side, was a reminder of the sheer weight of the bond they shared. The life of servitude she’d led before Ciraxis had been a world away from this.

Rowan’s sudden question snapped her attention back to him, and her brows shot up in surprise. He didn’t know where she was from? For so many years she had been nothing more than a nameless ghost, haunting the homes of better men, ensuring their supper was prompt, their clothes laundered and their baths warm. It had been overwhelming, adjusting to the new life where so many recognised her. They judged her, adored her, or despised her, depending on what rung of the social ladder they stood upon, or what stories they believed. But here was someone who had both seen her face and heard her name, and still didn’t know who she was. The unfamiliarity was refreshing. It made her small smile blossom into something brighter, and before she could stop herself, that smile bubbled into a soft, quiet laugh which she stifled with her hand.

She cleared her throat, her gaze falling as she tucked a tress of dark waves behind her ear. “Oh, I…” she began, momentarily caught off guard. The temptation to lie danced on her tongue - how easy it would be to fabricate some noble past, to pretend she had won her dragon through strength and cunning in the Rising like the others. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so out of place. But she had never been a liar, despite what some said. Still, she didn’t have to tell him everything.

"Originally from the flats," she said. Poor. A nobody. “Now, not too far from the plaza...” Wealthy. Esteemed. Or, Royalty. It wasn't uncommon for those fortunate enough to forge a bond with a dragon to be thrust into high society. Chosen by the Gods themselves. Respected. At least, that was how it was supposed to be. Instead she'd been hiding away in the Lion's den of the Palace itself, from those who wanted her head on a spike.

She paused, her eyes flicking back to him with a curious glint. “And you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. It was easier to turn the attention away from herself, though she couldn’t shake the small satisfaction of knowing that he saw her as just another new and incompetent rider, and not the woman of gossip.

 

[Rowan Mars]

Rowan's eyebrows raised. From the flats to the plaza was quite an ascent. His eyes danced over her figure once more, but this time was intentional and calculating. She had the glow of youth about her, but an impoverished upbringing often left its marks. Briseis did not appear malnourished, her stature was slight but not stunted. Her skin looked healthy, her hair soft. Either she had been lucky as a child, or she had been in the plaza long enough to improve her health.

All the same, she must have conquered the Rising. No noble was born in the flats, after all.

"Farmland, by the outer city. Have a place in the Old City now, of course, but I'm not there much." Rowan had spent more of the last two years outside the city than within it. He did well on long missions. Apep was enough to keep the pair of them safe from whatever the lands could throw at them, and Rowan thought himself resourceful enough to survive in most places. However it did mean he wasn't caught up on the most recent city news, aside from whatever military briefs his superiors deemed appropriate to give him.

"So, when did you asce-"

! - ! - ! KABOOM ! - ! - !

A deafening noise ripped through the air. Rowan felt the sound in his chest and instinctively ducked down and covered his face. Apep's wings half-flared and the spines along his back and tail stood rigid, his stance low in a prowl against the sudden noise. After a beat Rowan whipped his head to the cliff's edge, then looked back at Briseis, then back to the edge. A plume of dark smoke was just starting to crest in the distance.

 

[Briseis]

Briseis found herself unexpectedly charmed by Rowan’s past on the farmland, and her expression softened at the thought. It sounded so quiet, so simple and spacious. No lofty expectations to meet, no eyes watching every move.

For Briseis, who had only known crowded quarters and whispered gossip in stone corridors, it was a picture of freedom she’d only dared to dream of. That quiet life he described might be nothing more than ordinary to him, but to her, it seemed like something rare and valuable, and she found herself almost envious of his roots.

She had braced herself for further questioning when the sudden explosion shattered the air, reverberating through Briseis’s bones and making her heart seize. She let out a yelp as she dropped to a crouch, eyes wide and pulse hammering. Her hands slammed to her ears, and hazel eyes closed tightly. Ciraxis responded in kind, his sleek white body tensing, eyes narrowing as his nostrils flared. His wings flicked open slightly, and a low growl rumbled from deep within his chest as curled his tail protectively around Briseis.

Smoke climbed into the air, curling dark and ominous against the sky. Her eyes blinked open and she lifted her head, looking to Rowan.

"What was that?” she breathed. What could cause such a sound, she had no idea. Dragons were the loudest thing she knew of, but whatever it was had rattled them too. She rose carefully and stepped around they shield of Ciraxis' tail to creep toward the edge of the plateau and peer over. Smoke and dust belched from the mouth of the cavern, and the people cheered.

She quirked a brow as she turned to look at Rowan.

 

[Rowan Mars]

After determining that neither himself, Briseis, nor their dragons had been harmed, Rowan moved swiftly to the cliff edge. He crouched low, practically lying on the pale gravel that lined rocky ledge. His black coat clashed starkly, but this was no stealth mission. The two massive dragons to their side, in clear view from the camp, attested to that. It was kind of the whole point of them being there.

Rowan took another look through his spyglass. The people below would, hopefully, be distracted by whatever explosion they had created and not notice any errant lens flashes. That seemed to be the case, as some people gave the last dying claps, leaning on crates while others moved to and fro from the smoke. The black plume had not shown any signs of thinning.

"They're loading carts," he said while still peering. "By the... they're pulling bodies out of there."

In pairs, the Thagretans had carried two limp corpses from the smoke. Rowan could not see their features, nor if they were injured, but they were not moving. The attitude of the miners shifted as the casualties were noted, though not by a particularly dramatic measure. Rowan wondered just who had been sent on this "job," so far from Thagretis. What sorts of people would Thanasis send on a difficult, dangerous trip?

Expendable people, that's who.

Rowan lowered the telescope, his mouth a hardened line. "We need to get down there."

 

[Briseis]

Briseis's stomach twisted at the sight through Rowan's spyglass, her gaze following the lifeless figures as they were hauled away.

Rowan’s command hit her with a shock, and she blinked, her breath catching in her throat. The words were firm, final. But something about it didn’t sit right with her.

Her brow furrowed with unease. They weren’t supposed to get involved. Their mission had been simple—observe, report, and return. Not to engage. She glanced at the two dragons again. Ciraxis was ready, but that didn’t mean she was. She had no idea what they were walking into. The explosion had thrown her off balance, and she hadn’t fully processed the danger yet. She didn’t even know what she could do to help.

She wasn’t a soldier. She didn’t have the battle-hardened experience that someone like Rowan had. The last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself—again.

But what if they needed help?

"I thought..." she started, her voice almost hesitant as she studied Rowan’s face, trying to read his expression. "I thought we were just supposed to report on this. Not get involved." Her fingers tightened slightly on the spyglass in her hands, her eyes narrowing in a wince at Rowan. "What if... what if we make things worse?"

The question lingered between them, one Briseis didn’t know how to answer. If things went wrong—if they were forced to fight, or worse—she had no illusions about her own abilities. She feared she'd be of little use in such a situation, and the thought of that, of failing when it mattered, made her stomach churn.

 

[Rowan Mars]

Rowan’s face was unchanged. It bore a mixture of determination, concern, and a tint of anger. Thagretis had its historic conflicts with Thanasis, but that did not mean that their lives were meaningless. He could feel the mental equivalent of an eye roll at the periphery of his senses, Apep’s learned reaction to what he considered useless sentimentality.

“Do you not think Command will want to know what that explosion was? Our report will have little benefit without more context.”

He glanced to the west. The sun was on its afternoon descent, but it still had a few hours’ worth to cover before it would meet the horizon.

Rowan pushed himself back from the ledge and stood once he was clear of the camp’s sight, dusting off his long leather coat. “If we leave now it will be dark before we reach the camp, that will allow us cover. We will leave Apep and Ciraxis here. The miners will see them and assume we are still with them.”

 

[Briseis]

Briseis frowned, glancing between Rowan and the ledge. While he made a valid point, it did not a thing for the unease roiling in her chest. She turned her eyes to Ciraxis, whose form was still as a stone, save for the slight twitching of his tail. He seemed tense, discomforted by the idea that she would be leaving his side, though she knew he'd be ready to obey whatever she commanded. Still, the uncertainty in her own mind made her hesitate.

“And what happens if we get caught?” she asked, her voice low but firm. “What exactly do you plan to do when we’re down there? Ask nicely what they’re mining and hope they don’t notice we’re not supposed to be there?”

Her fingers tightened into fists as she spoke, tension bleeding into her voice despite her efforts to stay calm. “I don’t disagree that Command will want more information, but this... this feels like a gamble. If we’re seen, it could escalate, and I doubt they’ll be as interested in diplomacy as you are and I..." cant fight for shit. "Well we're outnumbered if we get into any trouble."

Ciraxis made a low rumble in his throat, and Briseis placed a hand on his side, drawing comfort from the familiar warmth of his scales. Gods, she sounded pathetic. Weak, afraid, but mostly pathetic. Vhagor was right. Maybe everyone was right. She didn't deserve a dragon.

She uncurled a fist to run her hand down her face, drawing out a quiet growl in frustration. "Fine. You're in charge. If this turns out to be a terrible idea, it was yours." she frowned at him, patting at Ciraxis' flank as she strut passed him.

"Stay here."

 

[Rowan Mars]

Rowan was considered well-mannered by most people. Soldiers didn't have the luxury of tact most of the time, but he did make an effort not to be an asshole. That was easier when people blindly followed orders, or had been in the same unit long enough to learn each other's skills and mannerisms. Briseis he knew very little about, and in the short time they had been on this cliffside he had only ascertained that she was very, very green. Again he wondered why she had been sent so far afield.

While she had plenty of reason to be nervous, her tone was... what was a polite way to say insubordinate?

"Fine. You're in charge. If this turns out to be a terrible idea, it was yours."

He raised an eyebrow, and flexed his jaw to keep from scowling at the tone. "Yes," he replied. "I am."

He moved to the black leather satchels that were strapped to Apep's sides and began removing items. Small amounts of provisions, a notepad and charcoal, a water canteen, two small metal devices, and two short swords. He stowed a small, black, velvet bag into one of the deep pockets of his overcoat.

"When the sky is black, stay overhead," he told Apep. The dragon released a gaseous hiss and shook his spines. "You are too large to go underground, and we need you to keep watch and keep them distracted."

Apep's eyes glimmered with the same acid-green of his venom. He could find another rider, but it would be inconvenient. "You like me a bit more than that." Rowan answered the glare with a sneer.

He moved back to Briseis. "And to answer your question - don't get caught. Did they teach you how to stalk?"

 

[Briseis]

Briseis immediately dropped her gaze, the tension in her shoulders locking into something more rigid, more practiced. Her stomach twisted as Rowan reminded her—so casually, so effortlessly—that she was not in charge here. That she had never been in charge of anything.

She bowed her head, the words leaving her before she even fully registered them. “I.. Yes. Apologies.” she frowned softly, unable to meet his gaze.

The momentary boldness was born of sheer anxiety, but it was a slip, a mistake. The sharp edge in his tone, the way he looked at her—it was not cruel, not truly, but it was enough to make her pulse quicken, her breath shallow. She knew that look.

At his next question, she hesitated, frowning slightly. “Stalk?” She dared a quick glance up at him again, uncertain. “N-no, they... I was supposed to keep my distance.” Her fingers curled at her sides, half-expecting a reprimand for the admission. It sounded like a weakness, like something she should have known how to do. But no one had ever trained her for this. She had been a tool, a set of hands to serve a purpose—one that rarely required her to move unseen.

Her lips pressed together, shame curling in her chest. If he thought she was useless before, this certainly wouldn’t change his mind. "Just tell me what to do."

 

[Rowan Mars]

"I was supposed to keep my distance.”

Rowan didn't understand. Even a long-range scout should be taught how to remain undetected if they found themselves down in enemy territory. The thoughts of nepotism and coddling of a noblewoman resurfaced, but these didn't mesh with her story. She had not been born into privilege, that seemed clear, and who would raise her to such status and then hold her back? He glanced at Ciraxis. No dragon that formidable would choose someone unproven.

These questions were not for him to ask. He had managed to keep his head this long by not looking for answers he didn't need... however much he may want them. Briseis had captured his attention whether he liked it or not. It couldn't just be her looks, he'd seen pretty girls before, but he knew nothing about her. What was it about her?

No matter. An answer he did need was why Thagretis was out here with high explosives.

"Step lightly, balls of your feet first. Keep low, and stay clear of sight lines."

It was a far cry from a an actual lesson, but luckily for them the miners would be distracted by their own work and the two large creatures on the cliff above. Rowan and Briseis took a thin, rock path down the side of the plateau, winding around into a small, dry riverbed that kept their profiles low and clear. It was slow going, and the sun continued its descent into evening, throwing fire across the sky as it neared the horizon. The dimming light would hide them, though it made it more difficult to see the terrain and any desert creatures that shared the path.

 

[Briseis]

Briseis nodded quietly, keeping her head low in silent acknowledgment of Rowan's orders. She was here to follow instructions, to help when she could, and to stay alive while doing so.

“Understood,” she murmured with a nod, giving a little wiggle on the spot as she loosened her tension and tested the balls of her feet. "Alright."

Her movements were careful as she followed him in finding a safe path down from the plateau, her heart racing not from fear but from a quiet desire to prove she could handle this. The air was growing cooler, and the shifting light as the sun sank lower cast long shadows across the ground, helping to provide the cover they needed.

Briseis glanced at Rowan from the corner of her eye, noting how his posture was a study in controlled alertness. She matched his pace, stepping lightly, trying to adopt the same ease despite the unease that still simmered in her gut. The path beneath their feet was uneven, the rocks jagged and scattered, but she found herself instinctively picking her steps with more care than usual. Every rock, every crevice, was another obstacle between her and the camp below—and between her and failure.

As they rounded a bend in the rocky terrain, Briseis’s sharp gaze caught sight of a narrow passageway hidden by the stretch of low-lying brush. It was barely noticeable, tucked just out of sight from the ledge above. The entrance was well concealed, and the dry riverbed snaked through it like a natural path. The ground was firm, offering good purchase for their feet, and the rocks on either side of them would keep them mostly hidden from view.

She tapped Rowan on the shoulder and pointed.

 

[Rowan Mars]

Rowan started out apprehensive of Briseis' abilities, but he found himself pleasantly surprised that he could not hear her following him. Her footfalls were light and her movements barely caused a ripple in the air. Her small stature was well suited to this, something Rowan acutely noted as he bent low to keep his silhouette out of sight.

He looked back a couple of times initially, but stopped once he was satisfied she was not falling behind. He was unusually distracted, and curiosity about his comrade kept weaving its way between more pertinent thoughts. There was just something off about her. Different. She didn't look like a soldier, nor recruit even. She carried herself somewhere between a peasant and nobility. She was pretty, but - oh for fuck's sake. "Focus," he hissed at himself.

He did not turn back to Briseis until she touched his shoulder. His dark eyes followed her finger and, after a moment, he saw the passage she indicated. He nodded, and signaled them to move forward. She had a natural eye for terrain, it seemed. More pieces to the puzzle.

Suddenly a wail pierced the twilight silence. A high, grating shriek that came from the brush just beside them. Rowan instinctively crouched so low that his nose almost touched the passage's edge. The wail sounded again, sharp and short. There were voices from the camp now, alerted by the sound. Was it a ward? A scout?

No. Rowan's features dropped as the small, agitated desert fox stepped from around a low shrub. It was small, with gray fur and enormous ears. It had black-pearl eyes and a large, bushy tail, all propped on pencil-thin legs that moved effortlessly over the sand. It bared small but vicious fangs, and yowled again.

Rowan tried to shoo it with an arm and a low hiss. "Pssht! Ss!" But the fox was having none of it, and she flattened her ears and snarled.

"See what's out there!" he heard someone yell from afar.

Fuck.

"Hide!" he said as quietly, but as urgently, as he could.

 

[Briseis]

Briseis' stomach clenched as the piercing cry echoed through the quiet. Her breath caught in her throat, every muscle in her body going rigid as she dropped low beside Rowan. Her pulse pounded in her ears, a sharp contrast to the silence they had so carefully maintained up until now.

The fox was small, but the sound it made was loud. Too loud.

"Hey- hey, nonono.. Shhh--"

See what’s out there!

Briseis hushed, her gaze snapping back to Rowan, nodding quickly at his order. Her mind snapped into action. Move. Hide. Do not be seen.

Without hesitation, she pressed herself flat against the nearest rock, angling her body so the shifting shadows cloaked her slight frame. She slipped sideways into a narrow gap between two boulders, keeping just enough space to see Rowan and the approaching figures beyond.

Her breath was steady, controlled, but her heart hammered against her ribs. This was not the first time she had needed to disappear—but it was the first time it might cost her more than a beating if she failed.

The fox shrieked again, standing its ground. Briseis could only hope the guards would dismiss the noise as nothing more than desert wildlife.

Boots crunched against the sand. Two figures were coming closer. Both men carried spears, eyes sweeping over the landscape. Bri held her breath.

“Just a damn fox,” the first muttered, squinting at the puffed up little creature..

“They don’t usually make a racket unless something’s bothering ‘em,” the spearman replied. He stepped closer. Another step and she'd be seen.

The fox yowled again, its back arching. And then—

It lunged at the spearman’s leg.

“Godsdamned vermin!” the man cursed, stumbling back as the fox nipped at his boot. He kicked at it, but the tiny creature was fast, darting away into the brush.

The second man barked a laugh. “I told you. Just a fox.”

The spearman scowled but let out a breath. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let’s get back.” He cast one last glance at the rocks before shaking his head and turning away.