Strangely enough, I relate to Kipp more than anything after that. He wants to be more than he is. He has a dream of becoming someone great. He’s not escaping his life, he’s improving it. I love that. “Can I hug you?” I ask him, full of emotion.
Kipp recoils, an offended look on his face.
“You don’t ask a slitherskin that,” Lark protests. “It’s rude. You don’t touch them without invitation.”
“I asked.” My face is hot. “And I didn’t mean to offend. My family doesn’t hug and I’ve decided that now that I’m going to be my own person, I’m going to ask for hugs. I love hugs. I want hugs every day. It’s just the warmest, best feeling…but I seem to be surrounded by non-huggers.”
“I’ll hug you,” Mereden says in a soft voice.
“You will?” I look at her in surprise.
She nods, getting to her feet as I do. “It’s a new start for all of us, isn’t it? I might as well be a hugger.”
Squeaker mrowrs a protest at being set on the floor, but I dust cat hair off my robe and hug Mereden. She’s shorter than me, and soft, but she smells sweet and lovely, and her embrace is warm. It’s a good hug.
Tight arms lock around my waist. “Come here, you,” Lark grumbles. “I can be a hugger, too.”
I chuckle, and then Gwenna sighs and gets to her feet, adding herself to our group hug. “Fine,” she says, “but I’m doing this for you lot, not for myself.”
Kipp pats my leg, the closest he’ll get to the group hug.
It’ll do.
TEN HAWK
24 Days Before the Conquest Moon
Magpie’s new fledgling team is arguably the worst team I’ve ever had, and I’ve had some dreadful ones in the past few years. I’ve worked with fledglings who didn’t want to take direction from a Taurian. I’ve worked with fledglings who were cowards, or too spoiled to get their clothes dirty. There was one year where they all wanted to just get drunk with Magpie in taverns and none of them showed up on testing day.
They were still better than this crew.
I wash at the basin in my room, splashing water on my muzzle and wondering if everything is about to come crashing down upon Magpie’s nest. This team has to pass or Magpie’s going to lose her position as guild master. We’ll be kicked out and homeless, and I’ll never pay my hand back.
But I don’t know if this is the team to get us out of the hole we’ve been dug into.
It’s been two days of training and I haven’t seen a lick of potential. They’re a stunning disgrace, and I don’t have much time to get them into shape so they can do test runs in the tunnels. I knew it would be bad, and yet I’m staggered anew every time I look at them. I couldn’t have picked a worse team if I tried.
Lark is yawning and belligerent, but I knew she would be. She argues with all my orders and makes faces behind my back.
The slitherskin won’t take off his house, and I’m not entirely convinced he’s listening to a thing I say.
The young priestess cries when she has to run and says a prayer when I look at her.
Gwenna glares at me as if I’m ravishing her friend in front of her eyes.
And Aspeth?
Aspeth tries, at least. Just like yesterday, she tried her hardest today. Just like yesterday, she was the worst of them. She huffs and trudges along the heavily sloped streets of Vastwarren with the best of them, gamely trying to keep up. She truly wants this, I sense, which is annoying because she’s in terrible shape, athletically. It’s also annoying that the more she sweats, the more her clothes cling to her figure and outline the heaving mounds of her tits. It took everything I had not to stare at the dark nipples poking through her flimsy linen top.
I stare at myself in the mirror. Is that a hint of red in my pupils or am I imagining things? I look half-crazed already, and we’ve still weeks to go. It’s the upcoming Conquest Moon that’s making me act like a rut-addled fool. Normally I wouldn’t be mesmerized by a pair of sweaty breasts. I could focus on my work, on molding these students into decent guild members so they can tithe to Magpie’s house and I can pay off some of my debt. I could ignore all distractions.
Instead, here I am marrying a student and daydreaming about the salty sweat trailing between her tits.
The sacred knot swells ever so slightly around the base of my cock like a band, reminding me that things are about to get worse, not better. I rub the ache of it until it lessens, and then towel off and head out of my room to find Magpie.
The kitchen is surprisingly tidy. I expected it to be a mess after training started, but there are no dishes stacked on the table, no half-eaten crusts left about. That doesn’t track. Normally students are exhausted and don’t clean up after themselves in the first few weeks of training. They run the poor nestmaid ragged. They sit at the table and eat (and bitch) as much as possible. But the kitchen is empty except for one notable exception. In a corner near the hearth, the slitherskin’s large, swirling shell is on its side and a tiny bell hangs over the lip, indicating that the owner is inside. Tomorrow we’re going to have to talk about him leaving his shell behind. He can’t just take it everywhere with him. It’s against guild custom for fledglings to wear anything other than their assigned uniforms.
I’m contemplating the best way to approach removing the slitherskin’s house from him when Lark enters the room, muttering under her breath. She’s still in her sweaty uniform, her hair in messy braids. She glances at me and then avoids eye contact, heading for the cabinets and rummaging through them. I probably yelled at her too much today. I probably yelled at all of them too much today. I see my hopes for the future drifting away with every dramatic sigh one of them makes, every time they ask to sit down and take a break.
So then I push them even harder. They’re probably regretting ever joining Magpie’s nest.
“There’s no alcohol,” I tell her, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table and taking a bite. “You’re wasting your time.”
She turns and glares at me. “I did my time. I just want a quick sip before bed.”
“I mean it. No drinks. You know the rules. And if I find you’ve snuck something in, I’ll have you on belly-crawling drills for the next three weeks.” I devour the apple in two bites and snag another. “I’m tired of all the drunks in this house.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would. Try me.”
Lark makes an irritated sound but huffs out of the kitchen, storming up to her quarters. I can’t really boot her from the program—not when we need five—but I can make her life miserable if she tries anything.
I finish my apple and then eat a wedge of goat cheese and a handful of nuts before heading out of the kitchen, just in time to run into Magpie at the base of the stairs. She blinks at me, her eyes glassy. Her hair is messy and her face flushed. She’s wearing a wrinkled guild master uniform, her heavy sash dripping with pins, and runs a hand over it as she gives me a distracted smile. “Did I miss recruitment?”
Irritation bubbles up inside me and I try to ignore it. “Two days ago, aye.”
“Oh, bury me.” She almost sounds upset. Then she pauses. “Am I drunk or did I hear a cat earlier?”
“I don’t know, are you ever not drunk?”
