Darxhis was taking notes. He had already written many things, of their day's journey, their new traveling companions, and of the events of the past week. But now, he made note of Miriks. He licked a finger to turn a page, and continued to write.

Even now, she helps Kenki with the delivery. I have met very few willing to help others, with so little reward to herself. I suppose I should expect that, from the stories I've heard of Stone, but it is a whole new matter in person. She is so very different than the Eliksa of Kings or Dusk.

He paused, attention pulled to the large tent near the center of the temporary village of makeshift shelters. Darxhis could hear tight, controlled orders, given by a feminine voice that might have been Miriks, over softer, pained gasps. A small distance from the shelter, Captain Naksar paced restlessly. Darxhis watched, partially out of amusement and also in sheer wonder at how nervous the normally unflappable Captain was.

Darxhis allowed the Captain the small dignity of not being observed and wrote some more. I was surprised when she asked me to be personal with her. It was a duty I was not prepared to shoulder, but it is not unpleasant. Confusion of the best kind fills me lately, and I hope for it to continue.

Darxhis looked over the assortment of tents and improvised shelters, lit by glowrods and campfires. The Eliksni of the Drain had traveled far today, even if they had been forced to stop early by Kenki's birthing pains. The entire community was in a small clearing on a flat area adjoining the mountain hillside, the ruins of some small buildings around the edges. The Titan Joshua had called this area a "soccer field" and had apparently been the site of some human sport before their Collapse. As it was, the field was much overgrown with trees and plants, but the forest surrounding it more than did the job of hiding them from Cabal outriders and other Eliksni raiding parties. Apparently, the remnants of Winter resided somewhere around here, after being pushed off Venus.

Darxhis sighed and slid the notebook back into his bag. He stood stiffly, and made to walk around the perimeter, watching Eliksni settling down for the evening, getting ready for the next leg of their journey. He stretched and examined his lower arms, flexing the skeletal fingers. They were almost fully regrown, another ether draught and Darxhis estimated he had a month or so more. It would have been sooner, but missing the last draught had been a necessity.

He passed a pair of guards headed in for the end of the first watch, they nodded to him with hidden wariness. It was not obvious, but Darxhis sighed after they passed him. He knew the reason; he had betrayed the Captain, and even thought he had been pardoned and favored by the new Kell, one who had betrayed would always be watched with caution and distance.

He neared the pair of Guardians, sitting to themselves beside a small pile of wood. As he watched, the Titan snapped his bare fingers to send a tight grouping of arc sparks into the dry pile. It caught easily, and the fire grew steadily. The Warlock tended to it, her Ghost transmatting a pair of small wrapped packages into her waiting hand, setting a similarly constructed pot to boil. So, Guardians did have to eat after all...

They both were without their helmets, and the Titan had even partially removed his armor. Darxhis then saw Joshua pull out a small datapad and begin speaking to his Ghost-being softly. Were those… Eliksni words?

Darxhis made to approach but caught a faint flicker of brightness in the tall grass surrounding them. Two pairs of wide blue eyes. He was not the only one watching the Guardians. Darxhis closed two eyes. Well, Liriks would have to be a bit braver than that if she wanted to improve human-Eliksni relations. Silently, he reached down and picked up a small stone. With a slight whip of an upper arm, the rock sailed away to rustle the grass where Liriks crept.

She squeaked in shock, a soft sound, yet the Warlock heard and spun, reaching for her weapon, but Joshua's hand was there, stopping her. His dark eyes scanned the bushes, and saw the frozen form of the small kika. He smiled and spoke, hesitantly. "Velask, kika Liriks." He paused, then started again. "Apologize I… for pain." Darxhis blinked, his shock sudden and joyful. The human had spoken Eliksni! It was rough, and badly formed, but comprehensible. His knowledge of human speech would make this scene particularly interesting. He had not told Miriks yet; none had asked, so he had kept it to himself so far.

The Titan looked up, hand touching his chin. "Pain?" [No…]

Liriks seemed just as shocked. But she stood slowly. "You mean, fear? You did not hurt me, no."

"Ah, uh, eia," Joshua replied, scribbling a note on the datapad. "Fear?"

Liriks walked carefully over; the Warlock had made the pretense of completely relaxing, her glowing eyes darting between Joshua and the small Eliksa. "Yes, fear. It is not hard."

The Ghost began to translate her words, but the Titan stopped her. "Not… hard…" He laughed and shook his head. [Maybe not for you, child. But I, who have lived over two hundred times longer than you, struggle greatly.] The ghost translated those words, and Liriks's eyes widened. He cocked his head to the side, sitting himself on the ground, his large form fully facing Liriks. "Maybe… yes you help me?" Liriks laughed at that, a small chittering. The human smiled at her. [If you desire, of course.]

Without directly replying, the kika approached him. "No, the yes goes after what you say, silly human. Like this; you share food with Liriks, yes?"

"Eia…" Joshua muttered, writing. "Kika… Eliksni… eat? Ether…?"

"Oh, no no. We can eat other things too. Ether is good, yes, but…" She pointed at the pot of water and the packets on the ground. "What is that, anyway?"

The Titan worked frantically to translate what she had said, but the Warlock sighed. [It's called ramen.]

The ghost translated as the Titan stared in shock, and Liriks nodded, moving even closer. "Ra-men." [Ramen.]

[How...? Sadaria, how did you know what she said?]

[She's speaking two languages, Josh, and you're forgetting one.] The Warlock reached out and handed one of the packets to the kika. [Here. Look.]

[What do you mean?]

[Body language. I said look, not eat, silly child… ah, now you've got plastic in your mouth.]

The ghost translated, and Liriks looked down abashedly and spat the wrapper out in a spray of noodle scraps. "Sorry, Eliksa Guardian."

Sadaria took the remainder of the bitten packet, holding it with a vague disgust. [I'm not an Eliksa. I'm a Warlock. You may call me Madam Sadaria.]

"Mad-am… Sa-da-ria." [Madam Sadaria.] She plopped beside them as Sadaria prodded the now-boiling pot.

The Titan leaned back, shaking his head, but did not stop taking notes. [It has been at least half a century since I learned a new language. Thank you for reminding me how it is done, Sadaria.]

[Establish a connection first, then attempt translation. You keep forgetting I teach language classes, but you always went to Eris's before the Disaster.]

Joshua's smile faded. [She was a very good teacher. I never knew a Hunter who loved teaching like she.]

"So if that is not how you eat ra-men, how do you eat it?"

[You boil it in water. Then it is merely tolerable.] The Warlock pulled more ingredients from her bag, including a pair of oranges. [No, we need more than just noodles.]

Darxhis smiled, and backed away slowly, his work complete. Liriks would continue to do great things for future relationships between the two races, and he looked forward to seeing it. He wondered briefly where Tamax was. Maybe he was at the small tent that Miriks had had him assemble? He decided to check.

A pained scream ripped through the night, drawing all's attention, but it was Kenki's. Dimly he heard the chattering of the other Eliksa, and he gave a soft prayer to the ancestors that the eggs would be intact, and Kenki well. He wondered if he should begin walking back that direction, but dismissed it, not quite dismissing the vague worry. They didn't need his help. Kenki had been fed well at the last distribution, and did not need Kaltis's ether.

Darxhis made his way through the scattered tents and shelters, towards the looming warskiff in the corner of the clearing. It was a second-tier craft, not large and scarce on features, but well-armed. The small tent, directly under the craft's nose, was illuminated from within. Darxhis approached hesitantly, kneeling to peek in the entrance. Tamax was within, awake and lying on his back, upper arms behind his head as he looked blankly at the ceiling.

Darxhis cleared his throat, and Tamax jolted upright, hand grasping a dagger. He looked wildly out the tent door, blade shimmering with energy, and Darxhis put his upper hands in the air, closing two eyes. "In peace, kiko, in peace."

Tamax took fast breaths, adrenaline coursing through him. "Oh, it's you." He lowered the blade, but looked aside, mouth set in a small scowl.

"Eia." Darxhis sat smoothly. "Your reactions are quick, even among friends."

"Don't praise me. I don't even know you, machinist."

Darxhis blinked, taken aback by the venom in the small Eliksni's voice. "Ah…" He did not know what to say, so he changed the subject. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. And if I was, it would be none of your business, yes." Tamax lay back down on the folds of cloth, the wrenki of Stone wrinkling under his weight. His eyes were narrowed and filled with frustration.

Darxhis, wanting to help in some way but having no idea of how to go about it, hesitantly shifted. He decided an indirect route. "Where is Liriks?"

"I don't know," Tamax groused. "Mother told us to stay here, but she wanted to see the Guardians, so she left. Maybe they'll shoot her too," he ended bitterly, but the barest hint of fear bled through.

"Kiko, don't say that," Darxhis reprimanded. "They are our friends now, they would not hurt a kika. Remember, they healed your mother."

"After they killed her!" Tamax cried, sitting up. "You can't truly trust them, the only reason you pretend to is because you desire mother's trust." His voice lowered and he touched the dagger's hilt again. "I've seen the way you look at her, machinist. If you even think about hurting my mother, I'll kill you."

Darxhis's regarded Tamax in surprise. Such a hardened kiko… he truly had been through much. Darxhis faced the fact that he was not welcome and stood. He bowed slightly. "I trust your words, Eliksni. I hope one day that you will believe me when I say I would never try to harm Miriks, but I see that is not this day." Tamax didn't make any indication that he cared about Darxhis's hope as he left the kiko's view.

When Darxhis was Tamax's age he had been tinkering with machines, learning how to build and fix with the other Splicer apprentices. Yes, there had been fights and dockings and withholding of ether, but Lantiks had ensured that all of them didn't kill one another and that they were generally happy. Darxhis had never known the pain and horror of the battlefield, and only once had he felt the fear of hiding from an enemy more powerful than yourself. But he did share that pain of seeing those close to you cut down.

He shivered as he walked away, dusk drawing ever nearer as shadows lengthened and more fires were lit. The kiko didn't trust him, and that revelation shook Darxhis for some reason. He tried to shrug it off, but it was difficult. Miriks trusted him with her name… then Darxhis realized that he had been tying them all together, Miriks and her small family. He had done much the same before, to a pair of twin brothers who had been his fellow apprentices on the holdings of Kings, thought of them as the same when they were very much different people. Darxhis sighed and brushed his hair back with a hand. It seemed he had to build a relationship of trust with each of them.

He made his way back to the tent where Miriks had been aiding Kenki, and saw that Naksar had left his pacing and now stood at the side of the door, almost vibrating with restlessness. A voice called and light spilled from the interior, a figure's shadow proceeding them. He rounded the tent, keeping a small distance, stepping around a smaller shelter. It was Miriks, and she spoke to Naksar softly. For a moment Darxhis feared, then he heard her tones; comforting, relieved. Successful. Naksar knelt before his Kell and spoke in tones of gratitude, and Darxhis could hear the gentleness in her reply. Then she held the curtain wide, allowing the Captain within, and Naksar entered immediately, ducking his head to fit.

Miriks let the curtain fall. She sagged slightly, her arm going to her wounded side, and alarm ran through him as it seemed she would collapse. She did not, and began making her way alone between the tents towards one side of the encampment, the side bordered by a small stream of fresh water. Darxhis hurried to her.

"Velask, my Kell," he called lightly, and she turned.

"Vel, Darxhis."

He reached her side, looking for signs of hurt. "All is well? How is your wound?"

"It pains me, but is not reopened." She closed two eyes wearily. "Do not worry yourself."

He nodded, accepting her words hesitantly. "How was the delivery?"

"Eia, it was well. It was… fearful for a time, it was her first birth and we feared that the egg might break. No such thing occurred, however; she did well, and the eggs are healthy." She met his gaze, eyes sparkling with joy even under the fatigue. "There are two of them."

"A joyful occasion!" he proclaimed, closing two eyes, and she simply nodded. Miriks wore an apron-like robe with no sleeves, and under it wearing again the ragged shirt she had arrived in. The finer clothing gifted from Kenki must have been placed aside for the rigors of birthing. The apron was indeed stained, and Darxhis saw the reason for her journey to the river; her arms were stained blue. He set aside discomfort and took a place beside her. "I would accompany you, if you are willing?"

"Yes, please… the night is coming, it would be good to have a friend, yes?" She started to walk, and he walked beside her. There was silence for a time as they made their way out of the field of tents and shelters. Above them, black was beginning to overcome the blue, and the occasional high-soaring cloud was lit from beyond the horizon by orange and red light. They reached the edge of the forest, and Darxhis pulled out a small light to guide their steps. Footing was uncertain, and hesitantly Darxhis held out his hand to her. She took it without pause and they picked their way down to the riverbank.

"Oh, Miriks," he remembered. "Don't worry about your kiks, Liriks is teaching the Guardians Eliksni, and Tamax is back at your tent."

"Oh, thank you. I told her to stay with her brother, though I cannot say I am surprised."

Darxhis began uncertainly, "Your kiko… was not content."

Miriks sighed. "Did he speak unkindly to you?"

"Yes, but that is not… I did not know how to help him."

She closed two eyes, kneeling beside the rushing water, taking off the stained apron. "Do not blame yourself, Darxhis. He has been without a father for many months. It will take him some time before he is used to another male being around."

"Eia… thank you." Darxhis did not know what else to say, though he felt he should. Miriks set to work scrubbing her arms in the stream, his directed light illuminating the area clearly.

"He… is a determined soul. He seeks purpose."

"Like his father, yes?" Darxhis was curious to hear about Vanox, who Miriks had mentioned briefly.

She gave a heavy sigh, pausing her movements. "Darxhis… my husband was not Tamax's father."

Darxhis blinked. "What?"

"I told you of my rough times. He is one of only two remnants of those days that I treasure." The pieces began to click in Darxhis's head. Miriks and Liriks's dark gray hair, and Tamax's dark red. Red, the racial color of House Devils.

He bowed his head. "I… I understand."

She nodded in return, with a pleased air, and Darxhis was suddenly glad that he hadn't offered pity. "I've accepted my fate, and him. Tamax is my son, and I love him." She sat beside the river, shaking off water. He sat beside her. "It was a long road, but it was because of Vanox that I came to terms with Tamax's existence." She paused, considering her words, and suddenly she moved closer to him, leaning her head on his upper shoulder. He stiffened, but did not reject her touch.

There was a pause, and he set the light on the ground, shining across the small river. She spoke again, voice softer. "After that day, I was full of shame, and anger, and… darkness. Vanox helped me from that place, and it took me many months before I came to an understanding. But I did."

Her breathing began to slow, and Darxhis abruptly realized how cold is must be without sleeves. He swung his cloak around her hurriedly, mind going in several directions.

"He sounds like a good Eliksni."

She sighed. "He was." Miriks shifted against him. "But you're good too, and I have faith that Tamax will accept you in time."

He closed all four eyes, and let go of his reservations, letting his arm relax around her. "Ah… Thank you, Miriks."

She made no further words, and he simply held her, listening to the pleasant sounds of dusk around them. He mentally set aside the next topic of conversation he had planned -asking why she hadn't set up a place to sleep in the Skiff, her rightful place- it could wait.

And then, quite suddenly, he realized that the Kell of Stone was sleeping soundly on his shoulder. Her chest rose and fell, and Darxhis fought back the oddest combinations of emotions he had ever encountered; the fearful respect demanding him to back away warring with a potent sensation of joy and peace at being near Miriks. Darxhis turned off the light and slid it into a pocket. Not wanting to wake her, he gently turned, sliding two arms under her outstretched legs and picking her up as carefully as he could. He huffed quietly; he was no warrior and despite her small size, she had muscles that he had underestimated. Then again, he considered as he began picking his back up the kill with her head leaning on his shoulder, he had seen her fight a Captain-class opponent in single combat. He left her cast-off apron, and ventured up the slope, using his smallet arms to stabilize her.

He made his way through the camp, drawing the occasional gaze, but in the dimness he wasn't sure if those watching recognized the sleeping figure in his arms as their Kell. He passed the large tent, and through a open flap he saw Naksar, crouching intently beside a weary Kenki, who held pair of teal eggs tenderly in her upper arms. He saw, over the tents, the glowing smoke of the Guardian's campfire, with Liriks's excited chittering and the patient replies in the human tongue. He walked until he reached the small tent under the skiff's nose.

He knelt and used a lower arm to open the curtain softly. Tamax slept on the bare grass, having left room for his mother. Darxhis set the Eliksa down, covering Miriks with the blanket she had carried since those days aboard her ketch. He touched her head gently, brushing her short gray hair from her closed eyes. Then Darxhis left the tent before he let himself think about what he had done.

He walked away, in the direction of the Guardians campfire. Someone needed to send Liriks to bed, and he wanted to have a turn interacting with the friendly (friendly!) humans. He walked through the Eliksni campground, alight with fires and glowrods. There were some who had feared what the lights would bring, but Miriks had reassured them there was nothing to fear; for there were Guardians protecting them this night.