The Deity's Follower

Shayla walked over a teeny-tiny root, thinking she had cleared it. But, no. Her toe brushed up against the top, and she slid forward with a stifled oomph, collapsing to one knee. In the muck. Of course. With her luck, there was no better place for her.

She chuckled, thinking of the half-full part of the glass. At least Tejeda wasn't there to see her. After a few minutes, she pushed herself back to her feet and continued her march, feeling no pain from the mild scrape on the side of her knee. She even stepped on a few more roots, just to prove it.

As she wiped the filth off her uniform, tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. Pissed as hell, she clenched her fists, marching toward the Spreah camp. Tejeda would never let her in his little secrets, so she had to find other means to gather at least parts of the truth.

His grieving eyes before he left her on the riverside were a sight she had not expected from him. Her initial instinct was to reach out and caress his face, hoping to make him feel better and let him know she was there to comfort him.

But he departed before she could, which was a good thing. She craved his companionship more and more as she spent more time with him. Whatever ill-fated glamor enticed her to him could go into a black hole. She didn't want to have any feelings for that Nubilae.

Her thoughts were on the verge of becoming depressing. She had learned to anticipate their approach and to push them away. Shayla, likewise, refused to dwell on her past and failures. Remembering did not provide any positive outcomes. But her past wasn't the one coming to bite them in the ass.

Tejeda was well-known among the Spreahs. Even though he was now the stuff of legend for them, this tribal culture might be able to help her learn something about him. If only she could get them to share, hoping she would be able to tell the genuine bits from the falsehoods.

Spreahs sat along the river, some with fishing rods and lines dangling into the water. Green algae drifted over the top, and somewhere in the distance, a bird cooed timidly. Another kind of bird than the creatures who had nipped at her. She approached the Spreahs lounged in the shadow of a willow-like tree. The soft grass gave out a delicious scent.

She asked one of them, a young male with a silver mane, where she could find Rylus. The Spreah pointed toward a cave with his left hoof before returning to his fishing rod.

Another Spreah threw his catch out of the water as she moved toward the alcove. Shayla dodged out of the way in the nick of time. The thread entangled in the branches of the tree next to her.

She noticed dark blue algae dangling on a twig as she looked up. The unusual plant whirled lazily in the warm breeze. Those were the Spreahs' targets. They did say they didn't consume meat. She shrugged and walked away from the fishermen, who attempted to take down their next meal from the tree's crown.

Shayla entered the cavern on the right side of the cliff's wall. The chamber was wet and chilly, as the remnants of the melting snow. Mist streamed like dust through the crevices, seeping into the threads of her uniform. Light trickled down through a large fissure in the stone ceiling, creating a curtain of light around Rylus. Under the brilliant sunshine, his silver wool glistened.

“I'd hoped you'd come back,” he said right after he turned.

“Yeah? And why’s that?” Shayla leaned her back against the cold, slimy wall. The chilly touch startled her, but she didn’t let Rylus see it.

"I owe you and your companion an apology. What I did would not have been acceptable behavior from a decent host. You have to trust me when I say I had no idea he'd react like that. We would never do anything to endanger our guests." He dropped his head, inspecting his hooves.

“An excuse right after an apology renders both useless.” Shayla crossed her arms over her chest as she sighed. A cold sound similar to that of the wind hitting a dried leaf. “You’ll be happy to know that Tejeda will be fine.”

Rylus hunched his shoulders and flapped his grey mane. He panted and choked like a wild beast. "So, he is the supreme deity. Why did that man lie to us? He didn't warn us that stuff was going to hurt him."

“If Tejeda were here, he would say that omission isn’t a lie.” Shayla gave a sad smile, thinking how much she had come to know him while knowing so little about him. “What can you tell me about that man?”

"Not much." Rylus clenched his jaws and stretched his scarlet scar in wider zigzags. "All visitors appear the same to us. And Tejeda showed us that appearances don't matter."

“Then tell me the whole story about your supreme deity. I want to hear all of it.”

"I’m surprised Tejeda has never told you our history.”

Shayla shrugged and averted her gaze, attempting to find a suitable explanation for her ignorance. She said the first thing that sprang to her mind. "Tejeda has never been one to dwell on the past. You know how he's not like the others, right?"

Rylus nodded with grim acceptance. “Telling this story is the least I can do for his follower. But I should warn you that it’s a long one.”

"Don't be concerned. I have around 20 days before we leave this planet." Shayla crouched on the chilly floor, a placid expression on her face, trying to forget that he uttered the term 'follower.' She wanted to punch him. "I'm listening."