Eating Bugs

Rumi

Rumi watched him leave, her heart thumping strangely in her chest.

Had his eyes always been so brilliant? Why was her gaze continuously drawn to him? Was it simply that he was foreign to her, his ways strange, and thus exciting? Another shiver overtook her.

He may be an ass, but unfortunately, she knew he was right.

They needed heat.

A fire like the one in the cave.

She looked around and measured the distance to the ceiling.

There wasn’t enough space, nor an opening, to let out the smoke.

Rumi was exhausted and more than a little daunted by the task at hand, but she pictured in her mind what she wanted to happen, and then asked for the plants surrounding her to comply.

There were many voices now, the rain pulling them from deep in the earth to burst from the surface.

The world tasted different.

Alive.

She could hear the contented purr of the earth as it gorged itself on the liquid gold pouring from above.

Whispers from new buds reaching upwards.

It was a beautiful chorus that was so painfully familiar that it stung.

She hummed while she reshaped their dome, spite overtaking the ache in her bones.

The colonel thought she was weak and pampered, but she would prove him wrong.

She did not know how long he would be gone and she intended to have the job finished when he returned, tired or not.

Rumi rose to her knees to better reach the top, and her foot brushed his bag.

It still had rocks and dust from their climb.

The anger soured in her chest, swaying into guilt.

He had carried her up the mountain and the wounds on his back were proof of the burden.

The burden she inflicted.

It was the least she could do to try to repay the kindness.

Then they would be even and she would no longer owe that infuriating man anything.

So she worked.

Cajoling the twining vines into a little hut with two moss beds.

She crafted a little door that lashed closed and then made sure the hut had an opening for ventilation, so they could have a fire.

When she finished, her body trembled.

Rumi was exhausted but quite proud of her work.

She had not gotten chances like this in her home.

The ancient roots did not like to bow to her whims and the Old Life there really was more like old friends that you compromised with.

The Life here was new and eager to please and it made her magic seem more reactive and…bigger.

She built a small fire pit inside a ring of stones and then she lay down on one of the moss pads and finally let sleep steal her away.

***

She woke to the crackle and pop of the fire, its warmth melting the chill from her skin and the fragrance of cooking meat teasing the empty ache in her stomach.

He had refilled her woven water flask, leaving it near her bed while she slept.

He had also stretched a pair of small animal skins out on a hoop near the fire.

When she rose, he lifted a roll of leaves wrapped in grasses from one of the fire stones and placed it on a broad leaf.

A trickle of grease leaked out onto the stone, smelling of rich, earthy spices and sweet corn.

“Let it cool for a few minutes,”

he suggested, removing his own wrapped parcel from a heated stone.

Her mouth watered and an embarrassingly loud rumble gurgled from her belly.

“What is it?”

she asked, shuffling closer with wide eyes, her nose twitching.

“Where did you find all this?”

Her gaze clashed with his, her voice betraying the flicker of wonder.

Clenching her fist to keep from snatching up the food, she rubbed her eyes instead.

Her body was still tender, but she felt more rested than she had in a while.

“Rabbit,”

he replied.

He made a face.

“They were stringy, so I chopped and mashed ‘em so they weren’t chewy.”

She refused to admit it, but his thoughtfulness touched her.

No, it was likely he preferred it that way. Perhaps.

“It smells wonderful.

Thank you for hunting.”

She peered at the steaming parcel wrapped in leaves.

“It reminds me of a roasted beetle I ate once.

The carapace guarding the meat within.

Though, I am hopeful it does not taste as terrible,”

she smirked, glancing back up at him.

“So do I,”

he chuckled, “Insects…they’ll keep ya alive, but you’ve gotta eat so many and they taste…bad.”

His gaze fell on the food in his hands.

“We’re gonna be together a while.

Might as well make the experience as palatable as possible.”

Her mouth twisted in indignation, her neck heating.

She did not think her company was so terrible…merely “palatable.”

His rudeness continually irked her.

She took a deep breath to dispel her irritation and reached for the wrap, studying it curiously.

She sniffed and prodded before her eyes flicked to his abruptly.

A warning bell went off in her mind as she looked at the strange food.

“You are not eating.”

Her accusation was clear, like slicing glass.

A look of surprise flickered across his face before his brow lowered.

“I…I was being polite.”

His voice was a growl, the sound of a cornered dog at the accusing tone of her voice.

Indignation flashed over his features.

“Honored guests and women-folk always eat first.

They get the best cut of meat.

I took the burnt one, so,”

he gestured at the scorched leaves surrounding his wrap, “I don’t know why you’re getting heated with me.”

“I am not getting ‘heated,’”

her denial was quick.

Too quick.

“I am trying to remain ‘palatable,’”

The insult piercing her pride.

“You do not have to treat me specially.

You have made it clear what you think of me, so let us do away with pretending that you think me a lady or a ‘guest.’ As soon as we get…wherever we are going…then we can part ways and you never have to bear my presence again,”

she said, and she meant it.

“Blood and bone, woman,”

he snarled, leaning toward her.

“Let me make sure I understand what you’re askin’.

You want me to not treat you well? Like you ain’t smaller than me or as strong as I am? I’m treating you respectfully, even though you have no clue how to survive out here, and are still my prisoner.

Honorable and gentlemanly, like.

I can’t help if you don’t recognize that.”

He stood, his form towering over her, hunched to keep from hitting the ceiling.

“Do you have even the smallest inkling of what I’ve risked for you? And now you’re twisting my words, sayin’ you’d rather eat bugs than the food I’ve made.

Maybe I should have just left you to fend for yourself.

How far do you think you would have gotten then?”

he shouted, tossing his hands in the air.

She stared at him in shock, but held her mouth tautly.

Her shoulders shook.

The air crackled with tension between them.

“Why would I be grateful to you when you are one of them?”

Her lip trembled then, betraying her anger and making her feel weak.

“How can I trust anything you say when you…you…could have been one of the ones that hurt me? You have hurt me.”

Her voice cracked and stumbled over the words.

“How do I know you did not poison the food? They did.”

A muscle in his jaw flickered and his hand shifted to rest on the hilt of his knife.

His furious gaze fed the fire.

“Perhaps I should face death in the desert.

At least it would be swift.”

She crossed her arms.

That is what she intended to do, anyway.

Instead, it was more of a hug, as if she could hold herself together, her seething anger swiftly replaced by a fleeting guilt.

“I tried to be kind to you anyway because you saved my life.

I made us a nice hut and a bed as soft as I could and…I suppose it is not quite the same as dragging me through the flood, but I am trying.”

She lifted her chin to meet his eyes.

The stubborn clench of her jaw warred with the hurt in her voice.

“You have insulted me from the very beginning and refuse to believe my words.”

She sat back down on her cushion of moss, her back stiff, looking away from him as she tried to reel in the emotions that were surging out of control.

She was tired.

No, not just tired.

Beyond exhausted, still healing, her Ti’la quiet within, sputtered and spent.

“I never said I wished to eat bugs,”

she added quietly, so soft she was not sure he heard.

“I was just speaking of…my experiences.”

“No poison.”

He declared and when she looked back at him, he took a hearty bite of the food he had originally offered to her, sampling it just as he had on the ship.

There was a knowing look in his eyes as he chewed slowly, obviously recalling the same thing.

He then took a long drink from his canteen and smiled contentedly.

“Hope you believe me this time.”

he said with a slight grin before dropping the rest back on a rock.

“Besides, I didn’t take the time to collect any snake venom or lizard bile, and the poisonous plants here don’t like the rain much.”

Her eyes slid to where he sat across the fire from her.

She watched him chew enviously.

Another rumble in her stomach spurred her toward the fire.

She did not meet his eyes.

“Thank you,”

she whispered after a moment, meaning it for much more than just the food but unable to speak it aloud.

She took a deep breath to quiet the last of her emotion before taking a hungry bite.

She savored the medley of herbs and spices he had harvested, which complemented the surprisingly tender rabbit meat.

Her shoulders hunched as she ate, the food disappearing far too quickly.

The sudden sight of her empty, bruised fingers surprised her.

It was not just him she was angry with.

He had just become someone to blame.

She studied her hands, caked in dirt with crusted blood beneath her nails.

Splat.

A big fat tear plopped into her palm.

Whether he saw the tear fall or not, he gave no sign.

“You’re welcome, Miss Rumi.

Thank you for the hut.

It should help us both to stay warm without breaking any rules.

I may not have earned your trust, but I assure you, I ain’t the type of man to take advantage of a woman.”

She looked up to see his fingers brush his forehead, as if he were brushing the brim of an imaginary hat.

His had been lost to the storm, as had hers.

She looked down again.

“Eat,”

he urged, “I’ll take the burnt one.

It’s fair; I burnt it, I should eat it.”

Plop, plop.

Two more tears pooled into her palms.

She caught sight of her reddened eyes in the murky puddle in her hands.

She did not recognize herself.

His words were soft and gruff, like she imagined a calloused hand would feel if it were a sound that brushed her shoulders.

She believed him.

And that only made her cry harder, her shoulders shook with the deep pain of loss.

“Why bother with propriety at all? My family, my betrothed…They must think I am dead.”

The despair in her voice made her tone uneven.

“Then you’ll show them a miracle when you return, alive and strong, your…magic,”

he hesitated, “…healthy.

You and your betrothed’ll be united and,”

he gave her a half-smile, “your forest will be filled with fine young, uh, saplings.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but did not.

Likely, he was about to reiterate his desire to see her on trial for her “crimes”.

Thankfully, though, he remained silent.

Instead, he studied her for a moment, and then set the uneaten half of his meal on the rock before turning and testing the rabbit hides, doing her a favor by ignoring the tears.

“You should eat it.

I have some hardtack in my pack.”

He bobbed his chin toward the food.

“Will you tell me about your forest? Nothing confidential or private.

Maybe, tell me about the plants? Are there succulents and cacti, or is it more of a “lily pads, ferns, and mushrooms”

type of forest?”

Rumi roughly wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, streaking the dirt on her face, no doubt embarrassed at having cried in front of him.

“There are lily pads,”

she confirmed, reaching for the wrap.

“They grow large enough in some areas that if you are careful, you can take a nap on them.

They feel a bit like velvet.

“The trees are huge.

They cover the sky so it is always green in the daytime.

Trunks covered in moss and little sprouts.

These trees, from which we build our homes, are so wide that ten men can barely touch fingertips around their trunks.

“Flowers bigger than your face grow outside my window.

It took weeks to coax the branches in my room to open there so I could look out over the pond just as the sun is rising.

“The men often hum on their way home from gathering tún and you can hear them a ways off.

The trees like to hear their song so they help the tune carry.”

She ate a few more bites of the meal he had made, letting the warmth fill her belly and ease some of the overwhelming emotions she had felt.

She snorted as his joke sunk in.

“Saplings.

That is funny.”

Another bout of silence.

“Listen, I know we started off on about the wrongest foot possible.

You obviously don’t wanna be here with me about as much as I don’t wanna be here with you.

But there’s a way of doing things here that I have to follow.

If you’re innocent, as you claim, the trial will prove that.

You’ll be pardoned and I swear, I will personally escort you to the ship to return you to your people.

So, until then, can we at least agree to cooperate until we reach Chirston?”

Rumi balked, withdrawing with a grimace.

“How do I know I can trust the wolves you wish to hand me to?”

“You can trust me.”

She studied his face.

If the courts were fair, as he said, then she would go free.

But if the courts were corrupt and run by monsters in the guise of men, then all of her running, and his efforts, would simply end with Sullivan.

“And if you are wrong?”

An emotion passed over his features, clouding his eyes as he once again looked into the fire.

After too long a pause for comfort, he met her eyes with a look of solemn determination.

“Then I will make it right.”

He straightened and rolled his shoulders.

“I’ll make sure you return to your people.

By whatever means necessary.”

Her eyes narrowed on him, and she leaned forward.

“Do you swear it?”

Another weighty pause, the crackle of fire filling the void between them.

His lips tightened and he glanced up at the domed ceiling where the smoke gathered before escaping into the rain.

Rumi observed him intently, searching for the lie in his body language or any shift in tone, but when he dropped his eyes to hers, there was no guile.

Only solid truth.

“If you are innocent, then I swear to you on my mama’s grave that I will get you back home.”

Rumi nodded, easing back and crossing her hands in front of her in her lap.

He would keep his word and do what he could.

But if things did not go as he said, then Rumi would do what she had to do to get free.

She would not be caged.

No one would hurt her as Sullivan had ever again.

Even if that meant betraying the traditions of her people and taking a life, she would do it. Surely Behiba would understand.

“All right, Colonel, I will trust in your word.”

The tension that had been sparking between them faded and shifted into something easier, and the knotting in her stomach loosened as she watched the firelight flicker over his features.

“I have met him only once, you know.”

Her eyes dropped to her hands; they fiddled with the oversized shirt.

“My betrothed.

He is from one of the southern tribes and the aba, my father, thought he would be a good match, a worthy partner for when I take up the responsibility of leading.”

“Ah.”

His eyes widened for a moment as they met hers and held them, both of them realizing what she had just revealed.

Well, it was likely he would have found out eventually.

He dropped his gaze first and cleared his throat.

“What about animals? I’ve been there briefly, though not in the depths of your trees.

We mostly stuck to the coast where there were fan-tailed fish that were golden like the sun, or red like the horizon at sunset just beneath the surface.

Some were white, like the spots you get from staring too long at the sun. Were there fish like that?”

A real smile broke across her face and for a moment something like genuine elation filled her chest.

“Yes! Fish like that, and they grow greatly! Near the deeper part of the pond, there are fish that look like dancers all wrapped in scarves of jewel-colored silk and some that are all black but still somehow shimmer.

“There are many fish on the shore, but we don’t venture too far because of the leviathans in the Deep.

“There are large four-legged animals with horns growing from their heads,”

she spread her hands above her head like antlers.

“Some are so ancient that vines grow along the horns and in the summer they bloom.

I have seen one once.

Fryn have their babies there.

“Birds of every color imaginable fly through the trees and they sing to you if you pass by too loudly.”

She suddenly felt sheepish, and a bit mischievous.

“There are birds that are so large, some of us have tried to tame them to ride so we can fly over the trees.

No one has succeeded yet.”

She shared more of her homeland, gesticulating with animated expressions.

Like the plants in the desert, opening themselves up to catch the life-giving rain, she gradually unfurled like a flower, her petals blossoming as if welcoming the sun and rain alike.

***

When the grey light of dawn snaked through the small opening, she was glad to leave the inky nightmares with the darkness.

She saw his face, felt the cut of his whip often when she closed her eyes.

Rumi absently scratched at the scars on her back.

She listened to the morning sounds, so different from her home, but the patter of rain and the scent of plant life were familiar enough to make her smile.

Even the colonel’s slow breathing was a soothing relief.

Rumi rolled up on quiet feet and slowly crept around him, drawn toward the pale light that called to her.

Tiptoeing toward the door, she peeked outside and gasped.

The desert had come alive—flowers with edges like glass and spiked plants that lanced toward the blackened clouds.

She heard the skittering of paws and scampering of feet as predators began the hunt.

The reddened clay ridges and plateaus were now dusted with olive greens and brightly colored blooms, strange plants she had never seen before.

Her vines parted as she stepped forward, her feet squelching through the soggy ground, as if the dirt were kissing her feet, even as the sky wept.

The torrent of rain had calmed to a steady drizzle that tangled warm fingers through her hair and lazily slid down her cheeks.

It was beautiful.

On a whim, she tipped her head back and opened her mouth, the fat drops of sweet water landing on her tongue.

Never before had she been able to drink rainwater as it fell from the sky.

What a joy it was.

She twirled in the rain, laughing softly as she danced, the thrum of the wind and earth creating a melody only she could hear.