Chapter 148: brought to you by *gasp* possible modern convenience!

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Again, a lack of episode introduction from Tyndali. Any offers or suggestions from ya'll?

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"And how many times would you like me to do this?" Leopold posed over the saltwater bucket, balancing the carbon/cotton filter between his hands. He'd already sloshed the water through twice, but Neara wanted to make absolutely sure they caught everything.

"Two more times. If the water still has things floating in it, tell me and I'll add another layer of cotton." She couldn't see anything in the water now, but you didn't mess with bacteria, especially without penicillin.

"Got the strings tied." The willow bark Benedict and Ethel gathered and scrubbed were twisted and braided until a sturdy rope formed, barely as thick as her thumb. They secured these to a thick branch and let them down into the thick briny water.

"Ok, now sprinkle a little salt around the strings."

"Sounds weird to 'seed' water with salt," Orson mumbled, but as the skinniest, he was the one precariously balanced over the pool with a basket of precious crystals, which he plopped into the water. "But whatever."

"It speeds up the process." Neara rolled her eyes and gave a thumbs up to Benedict, already softening more bark. She'd been working on a drop spindle with mixed results and didn't know what they were going to do with the resulting threads yet since she had yet to figure out an actual loom, but she had hope. She'd read a book on something like it once, and she'd seen reenactors doing it in history class so it might take a few years, but she'd get the hang of it. And once she taught these beastmen, with their limitless stamina, she'd be grateful for the extra time making thread. Speaking of which... "Winston, have you found those mulberry trees yet?"

He nodded, though his hands were covered in chalk. "I planted them near the fields of cotton and wheat; they should mature nicely there. They were covered in small caterpillars but I left them as you instructed."

She nodded. Silk would help strengthen the cotton threads. Now she had to figure out flax... and if nothing else, she knew for a fact people used to write on silk scrolls so if she couldn't find the papyrus reeds, that could be a fall back plan. The more chalk they gathered, the more nervous she became. Quicklime was highly corrosive and they hadn't exactly invented OSHA or safety gear yet, but cement would hold up better for houses than just stones and beams thrown together. If only she could remember the exact ratio of sand to rocks to quicklime... 1-1-2? She wished Shay was there, for the hundredth time that day, and rubbed a lock of her lengethning hair. She'd find one of the babies, maybe all of them if she was lucky, and they'd have her smarts, and maybe the Snake memory would extend to Shay's memories too. She suppressed a shudder. She'd have to get over that fear for their sakes.

"I have poured the water, Neara." Leopold held up the bucket. "Should I dump it with the other brine?"

And Neara, awestruck by the rainbows glistening in his sweat, had to remind herself she already had three husbands and definitely didn't need a cuckoo one. He stretched a hand to wipe at his brow and she mentally picked her jaw off the ground and thought maybe she did need just... one more.

"For the love of gods, Neara." Orson playfully flicked her shoulder and took the water from Leopold. "Yeah, dum-dum, it goes in with the rest of the water. You can stop posing now."

Leopold looked distressed, the corners of his eyes and mouth pulled down. "Orson, I do not presume to know the actions or intentions of the Prophesied One..."

"You know what the prophesied one needs? A token of your affection, a treasure, something so unique it could only have come from you. Go into the woods and don't come back until you've found it." Orson nodded his head behind Leopold, who turned with a jerk. Chuckling to himself, he walked towards the salt pool, leaving them alone.

"You don't have to listen to him..."

"No, he's right. You deserve fine things, beautiful trinkets adorning your neck and arms to signify to the world who you are. I will not bring shade to your sand until I have found something worthy of you. Sweet sunset, Neara."

She watched him run into the growth until darkness overtook him, then continued watching the spot where he disappeared. Her thumb unconsciously rubbed against her collarbone, where everyone said her mark was. It didn't feel different than anywhere else on her body, but then again her beastmarks didn't stick out either.

"The kiln is almost ready." Winston's voice boomed next to her and she jumped.

"Winston! Sorry, you scared me."

Instead of answering, he followed her gaze to the forest. "He has his uses."

She couldn't think of a reply. What did you say to that?

Noticing her discomfort, he smiled gently and opened his arms, gesturing for her to climb inside, which she did with only a small hesitation. Despite her large body, he always held her as if she weighed nothing. "I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?"

"Let me show it to you." He carried her towards the cliffs, away from the others. The new fires of an evening camp lit the beach behind them and the waves lapped at his feet. His footprints looked deep, marking the way back to their friends. When they'd journeyed for a few minutes, he stopped and balanced her on a rock. "Wait here." He jumped up the cliff face, claws digging into the soft stone until he reached a certain height, then he grabbed a large bag wedged inside the rocks and fell down, landing with a soft thud.

Now at eye level, the bag looked almost as big as her. It clinked inside like it held glass and her eyes widened. She only knew of one substance in this world that made that sound...

Winston inserted his hand into the opening and pulled out a glowing stone, the color of rainbows. He placed the cube into her hands and pulled out a smaller, yet more impressive green glowing oval.

Her mouth dropped open. Was the whole bag full of these things?

"There are mostly emeralds here, but I have a few transparent crystals as well."

"Where... you..."

He waited through her incredulousness, surprise, shock, and even denial, until she could form a complete sentence, patience in every line of his body.

"Where did these come from? No, strike that, when did you have time to get these?"

"When you and I fled the City of Beasts. The ferals lured a herd of Colossals with them and in order to aid your escape, I killed as many as I could."

Neara's hands dropped to her lap, fingers still lightly clasped around the warm crystals. "And that's why you... that's why you have a fifth stripe."

He nodded. "Yes."

She looked to the colors dancing across her body from the transparent crystal, then to the bag in his grip. "So... if you eat these... you'd be stronger?"

He shook his head. "Yes, but these are for you." His gaze hardened. "I saw what birth did to you and it won't happen again. The next time you get pregnant, I want you to take at least one of these emeralds, and another one before you give birth."

"But the babies... they might not be yours, Winston."

"I care for you, Neara, and any children of yours will be my children as well. I have enough emeralds for even the weakest runt and if they need more, I can get it."

She brought a hand to his cheek and he slightly leaned his head into it, powdery hairs sticking to her sweaty hands. Ugh, why was she so gross? But she couldn't wipe her hands off without drawing attention to them, so she left it on his cheek, hoping he didn't notice.

"Do you know what first drew me to you?" He looked up, silver eyelashes brushing her finger. She froze in place as he knelt before her, face level with her knees now. "Your eyes. They weren't looking for males or jealously judging females; they were looking for your, what's the word... glasses. So kind, even to one as ugly as me. I knew then I would spend the rest of my life in your service."

A gasp escaped her lips as he turned his head inward, pressing his warm lips to her palm. His breath puffed around her hand and she didn't dare move, though her fingers spread slightly to let his eyes look into hers.

"You came from another world. I want to know the courting customs there, how a mate selects another mate and tells them of their intentions. Maybe then, you'll believe that I am your devoted servant. Please, tell me."

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Leopold suppressed the growl in his throat as he watched Winston kneel before Neara. How he longed to do the same, to have her fingers lightly resting on his face. He'd seen her work miracles in the short time he'd been with her... and the worst part was she didn't seem to realize how wonderful they were. She twisted strings into rope without so much as stopping to second-guess herself, and when asked, she said it was common knowledge. Even the fishing baskets she'd made for the ocean, buoyed by animal bladders and dyed orange to be seen against the waves made no sense to him, and yet it'd taken her only a few minutes to think of it. Even if she wasn't the Prophesied One, which he doubted, he wouldn't find happiness with any woman other than her. Woman. The new word tingled on his lips and he mouthed it to himself again. It tasted almost as wonderful as her name. Neara. He would be near her for the rest of his life. He thought of his bones buried next to hers and almost swooned with the pleasure of it. To have their remains together until they crumbled into dust, the dust intermingling...

The stars swam before his eyes and he shook his head slightly to rid himself of the thought. No; he couldn't let himself think so far ahead. All that mattered was her happiness, her success, his Pride be damned. Mallory would assume he'd died like so many others and wouldn't miss him. He'd chosen these tattoos to remind him of beauty and he ran his fingers over them now, wishing for his stylus to imprint Neara's name on his body over and over again.

He stayed where he was until the Tiger and his Queen went back to camp, stashing the bag back into the cliff. He didn't care about crystals; with four stripes, he had more than enough to protect himself and provide service to her. To die in her service... what bliss. He thought of losing his life for her, knowing his final breath had been in her name and he shuddered in anticipation. He would bring her an offering tomorrow, something befitting her status. Now where to find something fit for his Queen...

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"Stop touching the branch, Tony!"

"I just wanted to..."

Make ripples, I know. But you're disturbing the salt. Go empty the fish baskets if you want to play in water so bad."

"Yes, Neara." His ears sunk and she swore his tail even drooped as he marched dutifully to the ocean.

"They're never going to form at this rate." Orson jumped a few more of Benedict's pieces and swept them off the board with a grin.

For his part, the Snow Leopard just shrugged, though his teeth ground against each other. "Big whoop. Like we're not hauling in enough fish to trade for salt anyway."

"The point isn't to trade for salt, it's to become a ton of mice."

"Autonomous," Neara corrected.

Orson's cheeks pinkened. "Yeah, that's what I said."

"Ha! Pronouncing things wrong! That's what she said!"

"That's not how the joke goes, Benedict." Neara again wondered if she disturbed the natural order by introducing modern humor too early.

"By correcting him, you basically said he said it wrong. Therefore, that's what you said." Benedict laughed again and moved a piece forward.

Orson picked it up, locked eyes with his opponent, and bit the rock in half, spitting it so hard it embedded in a tree.

"Bad move, old man. Now I have an extra piece." Benedict pulled it out of the wood and reset the board, adding the piece to his side. "Your move."

After a few turns, with Neara shutting down the more obvious cheats, Leopold walked up, looking shyly from Neara to Orson, who he'd realized was the real boss of the males, though he didn't understand why yet.

"Neara, I found something for you while exploring the area."

"Oh, so that's where you've been. We were wondering about you, Leopold." She smiled at him, though hopefully not too friendly. "We missed you at lunch."

"No we didn't." Benedict said, gnawing on his thumbnail as he watched Orson move a piece.

"Yeah we did; I threw a rock at the stupidest thing and his head wasn't there. Of course I missed him." Orson coughed a short laugh, which Benedict echoed before their attentions got sucked back into the game.

Leopold waited patiently before she looked back to him. He pulled out a small bundle from his knapsack and handed it to her. "This was the most elegant, softest..."

"Where did you get that?" Orson's deep throaty growl surprised even Neara. She'd never heard him this angry before.

The poor Lion just looked at him with confusion.

In the space of a blink, Orson knocked him to the ground and snatched the wrapped package from him, undoing the leather to reveal an off-white blanket the size of a lap quilt. He stared at it as if possessed, eyes focusing on something beyond the blanket, but not in front of him. His shoulder blades almost cut through his back as his breath struggled to leave his lungs. "What village did you take this from? Where's the baby?"

Neara's jaws cemented together in fear.

"What... what baby?" Leopold stammered, holding one of his arms over his head to defend himself. "It was abandoned when I..."

"Show me!"

The village, only an hour's journey away, lay claimed by nature. Trees shot through roofs and patches of grass broke through the worn dirt path winding through the homes. Everything bore a thick coating of moss and dried leaves leftover from the earlier fall. Besides the shadows from the forest, there was a feeling of gloom that carpeted everything from tipped wooden bowls to rotting doors barely ruffled in the breeze.

Orson walked to one of the homes and gently palmed the stone, looking at his hand like it knew what happened. His head fell and rested against the wall, the small blanket still clutched in his other hand.

Neara looked warily at Leopold and Tony, who gulped every time the wind shifted.

"I didn't even know."

The whisper fell against the house and Neara asked, "What?"

"They were here. I didn't know... I couldn't help them." He gestured to deep gouges in some of the homes, curtains partially ripped from windows and plant-filled holes in the ground. "Snakes."

The word sent a shudder through her spine, both at the mention of her nightmare and the possibility it might've been Curtis in his mate-less rage. "Snakes?"

His hand dropped and he nodded. "Their stench is everywhere, like a sickness. They came in... killed the men and ate..." He balled up his fist and punched the house. Instead of flying off or exploding into an avalanche of chunks, it disintegrated into powder, coating the furniture inside with a fine layer of dust.

Leopold's jaw dropped. "Your mate... he's not just a Sheep, is he?"

The pain in her mate almost crumpled Neara, but she walked forward all the same, hand held out to possibly soothe him. "Orson?"

He jerked away from her voice, a tear making a track through the dust brave enough to settle on his face.

"He also reads minds," Tony stage-whispered, true terror etched into every consonant.

"Orson, you didn't know. You couldn't have stopped them. You were in the City with me and..."

His shoulders slumped and he let out a rough chuckle. "That's right. With you. Where I'm supposed to be."

Her hand made contact and his muscles tensed beneath her fingers, but he didn't shrug her off. She lightly moved it up and down his back. "We can leave a grave here or something to remember them by... they didn't die for nothing."

Orson turned towards her, fluffy hair going straight into her mouth as he bent towards her, leaning into her embrace.

"Hey, we can even hunt them down, if you want. We can go kill them and get vengeance for these villagers and the babies and everyone. We'll follow the trail and get a Wolf beastman from somewhere and train them to smell after the snakes and..."

"And tear them limb from limb?"

"If you want, lamb, you can do anything."

He straightened with a weak smile. "You're the lamb, I'm the ram."

"Alright, Rammy." She winked.

He didn't get the joke and she felt it was too uncomfortable to explain it properly anyway... not that she particularly wanted to but making awkward jokes in a situation that called for delicate diplomacy was kind of her thing. Ok, maybe not just awkward but highly inappropriate.

"Ok, ram, sorry."

He shook his shoulders and held up the blanket tenderly, his eyes glazing over. "Do you know what this is?"

She shook her head, though he continued on like he hadn't seen it.

"This is a First Wool blanket. The first time a Sheep beastman transforms, their cast-off coat is made into a blanket. It's the softest fleece possible and the blanket is saved to present to their mate. They say the quality of wool shows how strong a lamb will become, and the number of twists that go into the thread show how many times their horns will curl." He smiled, a lost and faraway kind, and left out a small laugh. "Not that it's ever true, but it does keep the Sheep busy comparing."

"That's cool that you know that. I mean, you're a Sheep beastman, so of course you'd know that, but still..."

He gently folded the blanket into thirds and brought it to a grassy corner surrounded by stones. The damage here seemed greatest. "This is where he lived." A swift kick made a deep hole in front of the home and he buried the wool, placing two crossed sticks on top. Frowning, he bent the twigs until they resembled crooks. "One to guide your front, the other to guard your back."

Neara cocked her head, unsure if he referenced a Sheep prayer or death incantation or if he was talking to her.

"The last words a Sheep beastman should hear before they leave the world, even if he has to say them to himself." He stood and looked around. "Might as well try to find supplies here."

A clacking sound, like flat wood beaten against each other, sounded from the home furthest from the trail, tucked behind a handful of trees. Neara ran in that direction with Orson following close. Once inside, she realized the loud sound came from Tony messing with a wooden frame of some kind, the bark and edges smoothed off to form flat boards.

"I knew you'd find a way to screw up the last valuable thing here," Orson laughed, "Only a predator."

Tony jumped back with a frown and looked down at his feet. "Sorry, Orson, I didn't realize it was valuable. I was just trying to see if I could build something with it, like Neara does."

She blushed and felt a weird tickling at the back of her brain. She knew that shape from somewhere.

"You can't build something from it because it already used to be something, bear-boy. It's a loom, or it was."

Holy shit! "Orson, we have to take this back with us!"

He waved off her excitement. "Anybody who knew how to use that is long dead and their bones scattered. Only the strongest males learn about it and, unfortunately for you, I'm a wanderer so I don't know

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