Justin said finally. "Zack ruined that child."
"She's asked to become a Grendel Scout," Gloria said. "And asking why we won't let her in."
The others shook their heads in unison. "No mainland for Camelot's eldest virgin," Jessica agreed. "Not until she breaks the leash."
Justin stirred lazily. "You have to admit she's a hell of a chamel trainer, though."
She nodded. "Chamels are fun. Justin, the Earth Born used to explore! I remember when they brought the first chamels back from the mainland."
"And lost Josef Smeds to a grendel catching them," Toshiro said carefully.
"Yes, but—" Her eyes were locked on the northern horizon. "I won't say it was worth that, but you can't explore without risks. And every trip teaches us more. Teaches me more about myself."
"I just wish... "
"I know," she said quietly. Jessica intertwined fingers with Toshiro, and gave his hand a squeeze. She affected a huge yawn. "I think... that it's time to turn in."
They rose, and retreated from the firelight. From out in the darkness there came a gasp, followed by a prolonged and girlish giggle.
Justin watched her go, and then, belatedly, became aware of the weight of a feminine head on his shoulder. "Behind us," Gloria said. "Geographic, just rising."
He turned; Gloria turned with him. Geographic was a silver line with a dot at one end. No details showed, but it looked huge, just above the line of the ocean.
Twenty-four years ago... God. "Ten times the mass, back when it went into orbit. Interstellar brakes! I wish we had photos. Can you imagine how bright that drive flame must have been?"
"No humans to see it from down here. Maybe it blinded a few grendels." Gloria was almost behind him, her hands toying with his hair. "Is that really your wish?"
To see it myself! "I wish... that tonight was Fantasy Night," he lied.
"It's any night you want," she whispered. She reached up, turned his face with her fingertips, and kissed him blisteringly.
His hands found the warm, soft places on her body, and they sank down together by the firelight. There was no fumbling; latches and straps unbuckled as if by magic.
If anyone saw them there, no one commented. There were no gawkers as their bodies, gilded by the light of embers and twin moons, entwined for almost an hour before release finally calmed them both.
They cuddled for a time, whispering, then, suddenly freezing, scrambled for a thermal sleeping bag.
Then there was silence, save for the distant sound of water, and the call of some far-off night creature. No one heard. The fire consumed its last morsels of fuel, and began to fade. No one saw.
The only eyes that remained open were grendel eyes. Open, staring, glass eyes.
Dead eyes.
Eyes that saw everything, and felt nothing at all.
Twenty-four years before...
It should have been dead of night. Her body knew that, even though the whole world glared silver-blue in the light overhead. The grendel had tried looking near it, and had been blind for most of a day. Blind with the agony in her head, eyes that saw only at the edges; blind long enough to die, but the lake monster hadn't killed her.
Since then she had not looked up, though she would wonder about that spear of fire in the sky for the rest of her life.
For a long, long time there had been nothing but the hideous pain in her head. Now the agony in her head was receding. Now she could remember that she was hungry. Feeble with hunger. How could she feed herself if she was too feeble to fight?
And how was it that she had never had such a notion until now? She had never fought the lake monster, but hunger would never have stopped her. Only fear.
At the southern end of a vast lake, where the water emptied out into a sluggish muddy river, there the grendel had lived as a swimmer. There she had first drawn breath, and killed a sibling for food. She began to remember, now, how hungry she had always been. She and her sibs had fought for room to swim and room to run, for space to hold
"She's asked to become a Grendel Scout," Gloria said. "And asking why we won't let her in."
The others shook their heads in unison. "No mainland for Camelot's eldest virgin," Jessica agreed. "Not until she breaks the leash."
Justin stirred lazily. "You have to admit she's a hell of a chamel trainer, though."
She nodded. "Chamels are fun. Justin, the Earth Born used to explore! I remember when they brought the first chamels back from the mainland."
"And lost Josef Smeds to a grendel catching them," Toshiro said carefully.
"Yes, but—" Her eyes were locked on the northern horizon. "I won't say it was worth that, but you can't explore without risks. And every trip teaches us more. Teaches me more about myself."
"I just wish... "
"I know," she said quietly. Jessica intertwined fingers with Toshiro, and gave his hand a squeeze. She affected a huge yawn. "I think... that it's time to turn in."
They rose, and retreated from the firelight. From out in the darkness there came a gasp, followed by a prolonged and girlish giggle.
Justin watched her go, and then, belatedly, became aware of the weight of a feminine head on his shoulder. "Behind us," Gloria said. "Geographic, just rising."
He turned; Gloria turned with him. Geographic was a silver line with a dot at one end. No details showed, but it looked huge, just above the line of the ocean.
Twenty-four years ago... God. "Ten times the mass, back when it went into orbit. Interstellar brakes! I wish we had photos. Can you imagine how bright that drive flame must have been?"
"No humans to see it from down here. Maybe it blinded a few grendels." Gloria was almost behind him, her hands toying with his hair. "Is that really your wish?"
To see it myself! "I wish... that tonight was Fantasy Night," he lied.
"It's any night you want," she whispered. She reached up, turned his face with her fingertips, and kissed him blisteringly.
His hands found the warm, soft places on her body, and they sank down together by the firelight. There was no fumbling; latches and straps unbuckled as if by magic.
If anyone saw them there, no one commented. There were no gawkers as their bodies, gilded by the light of embers and twin moons, entwined for almost an hour before release finally calmed them both.
They cuddled for a time, whispering, then, suddenly freezing, scrambled for a thermal sleeping bag.
Then there was silence, save for the distant sound of water, and the call of some far-off night creature. No one heard. The fire consumed its last morsels of fuel, and began to fade. No one saw.
The only eyes that remained open were grendel eyes. Open, staring, glass eyes.
Dead eyes.
Eyes that saw everything, and felt nothing at all.
Twenty-four years before...
It should have been dead of night. Her body knew that, even though the whole world glared silver-blue in the light overhead. The grendel had tried looking near it, and had been blind for most of a day. Blind with the agony in her head, eyes that saw only at the edges; blind long enough to die, but the lake monster hadn't killed her.
Since then she had not looked up, though she would wonder about that spear of fire in the sky for the rest of her life.
For a long, long time there had been nothing but the hideous pain in her head. Now the agony in her head was receding. Now she could remember that she was hungry. Feeble with hunger. How could she feed herself if she was too feeble to fight?
And how was it that she had never had such a notion until now? She had never fought the lake monster, but hunger would never have stopped her. Only fear.
At the southern end of a vast lake, where the water emptied out into a sluggish muddy river, there the grendel had lived as a swimmer. There she had first drawn breath, and killed a sibling for food. She began to remember, now, how hungry she had always been. She and her sibs had fought for room to swim and room to run, for space to hold
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