"It's a big one, alright," Ryiel said as the felynes finished measuring the body strapped to the wagon. She glanced again at the tape and whistled as she wrote the number in her journal. "Include the tail and it could be a silver crown. I'll have to cross reference and get back to you."
"I can live without, thanks," said Marco. He wiped his still sweating face as he leaned against his bowgun.
"Make sure it's in my record," Royse said. She had undone her braid and was busy sawing away at the singed ends with her hunting knife. "And if the Guild can get this thing as far as Sleat, I can transport it to Minegarde. My craftsman is over there."
"That wasn't part of the initial agreement, but I'm sure it can be done. Is this everything, then?" Ryiel closed her journal and held it to her chest. Her eyes seemed to drift to Tavia, but Tavia was intent on not noticing.
She was a mess. Blood was currently drying to her armor in sticky patches, her body ached and stank like nothing living should. She really wanted nothing more than to sink into a burning hot bath and maybe take a nap. No, maybe eating a real meal was first. Or maybe she could eat in the bath—yes, that was perfect.
But she also wanted to talk to Ryiel.
Ryiel offered the weary hunters a ride on the cart and they heartily accepted. Except Tavia. Ryiel gave her a secretive smile, her eyes lit from within.
The cart began to trudge back through the forest while Tavia and Ryiel trailed behind. The felynes tried to lead the team of hunters in a song, but the exhausted voices didn't sound convincing and so the felynes sang louder and with more gusto.
Tavia tried not to invade Ryiel's space as they walked but the Guild rep wasn't dressed for hiking. Realistically, she knew Ryiel made it through the mountains and was capable of going back, but there was something about a woman in a skirt walking through the wilderness that made Tavia offer her hand over slippery rocks and giant roots. Ryiel seemed happy to indulge her, but she knew seeing a hunter after everything was a disgusting sight. Touching one was a different matter.
"I'm sorry," Tavia said suddenly, releasing Ryiel's hand after helping her across a slim creek. "I probably stink like the dead. And look like it. And sound like it. Well, I know I'm pretty ugly to begin with—"
"Oh stop it. Self-deprecation isn't funny, and it's not your thing. Don't start trying to make it your thing."
"Sorry, I just mean to say that when you show up looking all official and cute, it can make a girl question her looks."
Ryiel laughed. "You've been in the forest for three days fighting a brute wyvern. I slept at an inn last night and bathed this morning. There's a big difference."
"It seems like you always materialize from nowhere looking absolutely flawless." Tavia felt warmth fill her cheeks, and not from the exertion. "Sometimes I'm afraid to touch you. Like I'll leave a stain."
Ryiel's soft hand slid into Tavia's. The touch was electric, foreign, and yet perfectly right. "I like your hands," she said softly. "I like all of you, before or after a hunt. It's what you like to do, right? Didn't you once tell me you wanted to make the world a better, safer place while you searched for your legendary elder dragon?"
Tavia nodded.
"So it's just another part of you that I like. And you had fun out there, right?"
Tavia nodded again and smiled. She couldn't deny that. She lived to fight. Whether it was a good-natured brawl or fighting to save a village, she loved pushing her body to the extreme, getting the measure of her opponent, testing herself over and over and growing stronger.
"Then that's all that matters. You did some good today, and you had fun. I'm just sorry I had to miss it."
"I would've been worried sick about you," Tavia said. She squeezed Ryiel's hand briefly. "Saying you know how to fight and actually doing it are two very different things. And training against a human opponent or a Jaggia is incredibly different than taking down a full-grown wyvern."
"I'll have you know I come from a long line of hunting horn users."
"Hunting horn?" Tavia asked, exasperated. This was the first time Ryiel ever mentioned a preference. "No! Say it isn't so!"
"It is, and I was properly trained with it, thank you very much."
Tavia couldn't help herself—she laughed until her stomach hurt. The idea of Ryiel swinging around a weapon bigger and heavier than her entire body was ludicrous. She was too detail-oriented! She couldn't be a slugger.
"What's going on back there?" Emil called.
He was propped up on a strap keeping the tail in place, and the only one awake. Royse was spread out on the right side of the cart, one leg dangling, her hammer acting as a solid pillow while Marco was curled around his bowgun and snoring loudly. When Emil spotted the women's entwined hands, he smiled and waved, pointedly looking away.
But the moment was over. Tavia took her hand back and Ryiel released her without arguing.
"You know," she said instead, "I've heard although Sleat is a small village, they have great hot springs. I have to go out that way after we stop in Aquarin. Would you have any reason to travel out there?"
"Wow, all the way out to Sleat? Do they have good food?" Tavia aked, her mocking tone matching Ryiel's.
"I know a girl who worked there for a few months. She mentioned their grilled kabobs."
"Well I am about to get a nice payout. Maybe I could treat you to one of those kabobs in the near future?"
Ryiel grinned. "Then the hot springs are on me."
