DragonSky | ONC 2020 SHORTLIST

14. Back in the village

Larimar drew unknown symbols in the dirt, sneaking glances at an island floating in the distance, careful to not step inside the circle he had created.

"Close your eyes," he said, getting ready to teleport them all out of the Nursery Island.

Spinel took his advice and shut her eyes tight while anchored in Ansgarde's palm. He took Ansgarde in his arms and stepped into the circle, eyes focused on her. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her, so she looked away and immediately regretted it.

She expected the trip to be quick, like jumping through Lamassu's portal, so she was taken by surprise when she felt something happen to her physically. The world moved at an unnatural speed. Rocks and trees turned into thousands of horizontal lines. She was one of them, pulled apart, unfocused, reduced to a string of blurry shades of blue. While her mind was thrust forward, her stomach stayed behind.

And when she felt like she couldn't possibly be stretched any more, she was contracted, with her internal organs not quite back in their original positions. The onerous trip lasted three seconds at most, but it felt like an eternity of torture.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she mumbled, eyes closed, though it was too late now. It was decided. She hated teleporting.

From the way his chest moved, she guessed that he chuckled at her. She couldn't hear it though, her ears still ringing. She would ask him to stop moving - the swaying of his steps intensified her nausea - but her tongue wasn't working either. Maybe it got lost on the way.

She leaned her face on his shoulder, thankful that her stomach was empty. The tree aroma of his cape sent a wake-up call through her nostrils. She didn't brave out to open her eyes, but she heard whispering, buzzing, and yapping. He brought her back home, and his people were not as friendly as he was.

Spinel curled up in her palm, seeking concealment. With the little demon cupped close to her chest, Ansgarde draped the other arm around Larimar. The villagers followed them, bringing their murmurs along. If they demanded that he handed her over, would he give in to the voice of the crowd? She hid in his shoulder, and let the wooden scent calm her nerves, only sneaking peeks through her hair to see where they were going.

He brought her to the same circle of stumps they had sat in before with his sister. Had it really been only yesterday? It felt as if weeks had passed.

The villagers started asking him questions, talking over each other, but he ignored them all and sat on a large stump, situating her on his lap. She would have asked to be let go, she could sit on her own, but the constant demands of his people made her want to disappear in his arms.

"What did you do to her, Lar?" a familiar voice asked.

Olivine approached with a burly, bearded man.

Larimar ordered, "Get her something to eat before she faints on me and gather everyone for a hearth meeting."

Ansgarde tightened her grip on him, wanting to vanish under his cloak. She didn't know that he heard her growling stomach or that he recognized how tired she was. She wanted to protest and deny the weakness, but the prospect of cooked food made her salivate. She only hoped they wouldn't serve her a miff.

Olivine left her view, and the man did as ordered, herding the Embers to sit around the rock fire pit. An old man with more hair hanging from his chin than gracing his head drew runes in the ashes, and the fire crackled alive, engulfing the logs. The wind blew the sparks sideways, and they disappeared when high above their heads.

All eyes were on her again. She knew what they saw. Her clothes were torn, hair tangled by the wind, her skin scabbed, her foot grotesquely oversized and slathered with ugly, green paste. She wished she was as small as Spinel, so she could hide from this shame.