FSE

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There's this book from the old world in pretty good condition. It's where I got most of the names for the girls: an encyclopedia of birds. In its tattered pages you can find shapes of old animals before the Wakening. Weird thing birds do is nest up in trees. Not all of them do it, but the ones that do have kids who can't fly. If they fall out of that nest they die. Pretty fucked up.

Hypoxia kind of became our nest, but none of us grew wings to fly. But a nest is safe. You can't begrudge folks wanting to stay there, Tera. You understand, right? Fuck I hope you do. Hope some part of you does.

We called ourselves the Scissor-Tails. We all took the names of birds, but mostly it had to do with the bikes. Riding them, with the wind whipping your face and engine revving so loud it makes your eardrums numb. That's the closest anyone got to flying. Me and my girls were the best at it, winging our way across these massive plains, through rough badlands south of us, and along the slopes of the World Wound. Most of our time out on the bike we patrolled the Green Sea, protecting our home, much as Hypoxia can be a home for the wayward souls of our angry world.

But I think every one of us, you included, Tera, loved to fly. Most of all we loved to fly.

I let myself get caught up in it the day things changed. My antique sword rattled against my back while we blazed through the plains to the northwest. We followed a trail stomped down by regular caravans that went to the bonded encampment at the Cauldron. You rode in front of me, a long scarf wrapped around your neck and billowing like a crimson cape behind you.

A group of caravaners, the Patchworks who peddled fabric across the Green Sea, had gone missing. Or rather, they were supposed to have been back in Hypoxia a week ago, heading back to their home south of the Green Sea.

Frost asked me to send someone out to investigate. You still being new to the gang, Tera, I took you with me. Only way to get trained for tracking and investigating stuff like this is to do it. We weren't scared of what we might find out on our own. We had our bikes, and nothing could move fast as we flew.

The landscape changed on us. So suddenly I checked the compass set above the seat of my bike. We hadn't been traveling north, but we clearly saw the mossy horizon of the Growth. The legion of jungle that blots out the north that no one has emerged from the whole time folks have lived in the Green Sea. But it wasn't the Growth. It didn't cover that same expanse--this was a newly grown island that grew right through the road to the Cauldron.

We slowed and stopped a hundred paces from the tree line. They resembled the trees of the Growth--even at a distance we could tell. Their green canopy almost like every other forest, but it had those red bands of flesh grown across the bark, like a mold might spoiled food.

You glanced at me and asked, "What do you think?"

You had your goggles pulled up to your brow, and wore a patched leather jacket of our gang. It was an old smoky blue color, which paired nicely with your chocolate brown fur that had this glossy glow in the sunlight. A spot of white at the end of your muzzle over a wet black nose, and shining green eyes. I admit, I got distracted by how good you looked out in the open in the sun. This was the first time you'd ridden out this far, and I could tell despite the looming threat of those woods that the ride had you in good spirits.

"Word would have reached Hypoxia if this weren't recent. We need to get closer, see if it's still growing." You reached for your handle to start your bike, but I said, "Wait. We should walk from here. If this is Growth there might be scourge-ants."

You nodded. We pulled our bikes around, facing Hypoxia in case we needed to just jump on and leave. As we closed the distance with the forest, you asked, "Have you ever been inside the Growth?"

"A few times," I said, carrying my sword now in my hand. You had a revolver Motmot gave you, which I nodded to and said, "Don't use that in there. Not unless we're already on the run."

"Sounds like I can't do a whole lot of anything," you grumbled. But I knew your pout, a good natured twitch to your whiskers.

"Still learning the ropes, little bird."

"Mmm, that so, mama bird?" You bumped hips with me, your sleek, soft tail running against the rugged scales of mine.

"I'll show you mama bird when we get back to Hypoxia." I slapped your trim, little butt with my free hand, which got a cute squeak from you.

"Mmmm, promises promises, Peacock." You said my name in that sultry, low voice that you used when we spent the night together. It made my slit stir with heat, but now was not the time. We were close enough to this forest to smell it: a dank, rotting smell cut with a sharp spice. Like someone tried to coat a piece of rotting flesh in powdered anise to hide what food was being prepared.

"Does it all smell this bad?" you asked, eyes blinking back tears.

"We're downwind of it," I said. "Scent will get worse once we're inside."

"What is it?"

"The trees, see those pustules on the bark?"

Along the lattice of puffy, red flesh coating the gnarled bark were blossoms of white, green, and purple pustules. Each one gave the effect the trees themselves were bleeding. I scanned the grass along the edges of the tree line. All of the trees here looked old, no saplings or shoots of new Growths that suggested this island continued to grow. That was the thing about the Growth to the north: it was eating up the Green Sea like a tumor. Every year its borders grew around a mile closer to us, and if you spent a week along that border like I had you could watch trees slowly swell up out of the ground.

"Ugh, and I thought the Wastes had weird shit," you said.

"Southern girls," I shook my head. "You'll get used to it. Come on."

"We're going in?"

"We still need to figure out what happened to the caravan," I told her before falling under the shadow of the trees. "Keep an eye out for burrows." We'd not spotted any, but that did not mean they weren't deeper in.

The stench and threat of the forest changed our mood. There was something else, too. You get used to the psychic maelstrom--assuming you don't just live inside Hypoxia's walls all the time. When you're used to it, you almost don't notice that keening buzz simmering in the back of your skull. Long as Earth doesn't notice you and unleash her wrath on you. We all knew someone, or knew someone who knew someone, who'd dig a little too deep into the Earth and have an aneurism. Or how if a fire got set and once it burned out, for miles around would be an angry psychic wave causing migraines and all manner of hallucinations and psychosis.

People flocked to Hypoxia because, for whatever reason, it was psychically dead. Us Scissor-Tails spend a lot of the time outside Hypoxia, patrolling the nearby farms, checking on caravans, and just keeping the peace. We were familiar with the buzz in the back of our skull.

When we crossed into the forest the buzz had been replaced by a sluggishness. A wave of it I managed to shake off a few paces in. I stopped and took your hand, Tera, when I noticed you waver on your feet. "You okay?"

"Mmm, yeah. Just got hit with..."

"Me too," I said. "You can wait back at the bikes if--"

"Fuck off, Peacock, I'm not going to leave you alone out here," you said. You threw down my hand and marched further in. "Let's go."

We did, the ground underfoot full of dead, wet tall grass. It was wet from the trees bleeding, which made our boots splash loudly through the undergrowth. I am not sure how much time passed. We had lost sight of where we entered when I said, "Wait."

"Yeah?" you asked.

"I'm sorry, Kestrel." Kestrel, the name we gave you when you joined our sisterhood. Our gang. The women who watched over the Green Sea.

"It's fine," you said, tail swaying back and forth with obvious discomfort. "It's this place, and it's--I understand where you're coming from, Peacock. I do. The girls talk, you know? We want to protect you much as you look out for us."

"I know..." I stabbed my sword into swampy ground, took your hands, and kissed you. Your long, lean body was nearly a foot taller than my smaller, stouter frame, so you needed to stoop a little so my lips could meet yours. It was a chaste exchange for us. When I let go of your hands, I picked up my sword and said, "We can talk about this later. We need to make sure we don't get lost." I placed the tip of my blade along a band of flesh of the closest tree and ran it down the side. That scent of anise and rot flooded both our senses so strongly I almost gagged. As a long stream of brackish blood began to spill to the ground, I planted my sword again and opened my canteen.

"What are you doing?"

I explained while I spilled my water on the ground, "This stuff can be harvested. You boil it and it becomes a numbing agent when it congeals, or a hallucinogen if you ingest it."

"Disgusting."

"It's not too bad, just be sure you don't have any plans for the next couple days if you try it."

"That an invitation?"

"Psh," I scoffed while I held the canteen under the ragged wound. "Please, we're selling this stuff. Might as well make some money while we're out here."

"Who buys it?"

"We sell it to Tarragon and he adds it to his menu, or Bloom if they need supplies," I said. I sealed the canteen and hooked it back to the carabiner on my belt. Unlike you, I wore a ragged set of riot gear scavenged from the old years. It was painted the fluorescent colors of a peacock, shimmering blue in the front that contrasted my dark green scales, and a multitude of colors on the back. "Get used to that smell, we're going to have to mark our way if we don't want to get lost."

"Ugh, I have my compass, you know."

"And what does it say?"

You dug into your coat pocket and retrieved it. You stared a moment before stuffing it back in the pocket. "Let's just keep moving."

"All screwed up, huh?"

"That why no one tries to travel through the Growth?"

"One of the reasons, let's hope we don't meet the others," I said.

Every ten paces or so I sliced open another tree. By that point, we had gotten as used to the noxious smell as the noxious psychic atmosphere. Fighting back against that sluggishness got more difficult the deeper we went. I knew if we rested for a moment we might be tempted to sleep, which if we did here might mean any number of things. It could honestly just end up the best rest of our lives. Sometimes the maelstrom could be benign like that--make you high or drunk or manic much as it could kill you. My money still bet on killing us at that point.

I wasn't too far off from the truth.

You spotted it first. I did soon as you said, "Fuck."

Turning my head, I saw the scattered limbs of people. Wet chunks of flesh scattered by some predator of this forest. Still no burrows around us.

I did not like feeling clueless. We waited to see if we might hear something, but only the trees, with their wind-rocked canopy and the slow spilling blood, made a sound.

"Let's take a look."

"I mean, it's got to be them, right?"

I wasn't convinced yet, already approaching the remains while scanning the forest around us. Just trees and dead grass in every direction. I heard you follow behind, mumbling about how we shouldn't be pushing our luck. And we shouldn't have, Tera. You paid for that.

I knelt beside the remains. A hoof severed at the ankle, an arm, gore from someone's guts, all dragged in a direction that I guess went east into the forest. The grass had been disturbed, and trails of blood--darker, browner than the near coral colored blood of the trees--left us a clear path.

"Kestrel, go back to the bikes."

"Not without you."

"Kestrel--"

"No Peacock," you snarled, voice hushed at this scene of death. "We need to both go--now. This place is fucking cursed."

Every trail had a way in and a way away. I could tell the direction they had been dragged by the way the ground had been disturbed. In the opposite direction more remains went until they fell out of sight.

"We need to know what did this, and if it attacked them while they were in these woods or not. We also can't confirm this is the Patchworks."

"Fuck, Peacock," you swept your arms out. "This is news! All of this! We ought to go back now."

"Word will spread about this with or without us."

Your hands bunched into fists, Tera. I watched the revolver you held onto shake as you tried to contain your fear and frustration. "Fine, but I'm not going back without you. I don't like being out here alone."

Reflecting on it, I do wonder if the effects of the maelstrom were what kept me from turning back. We followed the trail as it wound around trees until I noticed we climbed a hill. The Green Sea had some rolling hills, but remained flat for the most part. We began a climb that I felt in my legs, till we reached a break in the trees. By now, a new scent had reached us that reminded me of fresh-cut wood. And in a circle around where the tree line cut off--

"Burrows," you whispered beside me. I stopped, and saw our trail went right inside one of those holes in the ground. Scourge-ants were six legged monsters bigger than a grown blossom deer, big enough to pin someone to the ground and slice them open with the tough, chitinous legs that doubled as blades. Their backs were coated in fur rubbed the color of whatever earth they dug into, and the rest of them resembled an insect's exoskeleton.

"Fuck, you were right," I said. But your eyes had caught on something else. You stared at the very top of the hill. It protruded like a pimple in the earth. Bands and ropes of what looked like amber or resin had been bunched together so tight it diminished some glowing light inside the thing.

"What is it?" you asked, mystified.

And I was, too. I couldn't tear my eyes from it, and I knew, with certainty, this thing had to be why the maelstrom worked so strongly here.

"I don't..." I trailed off. Of course I didn't know. You took a step out of the trees and I followed behind. A nagging doubt in the back of my mind told me to leave, but this temptation worked so strongly inside me. I noticed my slit become flushed with heat. Something tempting and arousing, lustful and longing drew us closer. We passed those open-mouthed burrows as if they were nothing to fear. Then we reached the top of the hill. We both were panting, hearts racing as we stood before this knot of some part of the maelstrom. It shined brighter now that we neared it. The lights inside moved, up and down, bobbing left then right. They danced as if to greet us.

And then, as if being rejected, I felt my head clear. I gasped and stumbled backwards across the overturned dirt around us, stabbing my sword in the ground and using it to keep my footing. This thing, this something, had split the earth into the rise we stood upon. A nest of scourge-ants. I glanced in the direction I assumed Hypoxia was and found we'd travelled at least a mile to this point. We were dead center in this forest.

I should not have looked away. I should have grabbed you soon as I regained my faculties. When you screamed, it was already too late. You had reached out to touch it. You it chose. And when your slim, furred fingers rested against that amber surface, amber crawled up your arm. It wanted to pull you in, drown you in its presence.

I left my sword planted there in the dirt and went to grab your arm. I tugged at the elbow and you groaned in pain. It had reached the cuff of your jacket, and this close I smelled burnt fur and leather. It was like acid trying to devour you, and your screams continued. They haunted me, Tera. I think they might always haunt me. And I needed to stop your screaming, needed to stop the pain. I could not free you. By the time it climbed your forearm I had gone back to my sword.

"Bite down on your collar and close your eyes," I yelled over your screaming. Tears ran down your face as you realized my plan, but you did as I told you while I lifted my blade.

One clean chop at the elbow. I shut my eyes, but felt your arm jerk, bone shattered and severed. You fell back with a groan that almost sounded like relief. And I was at your side, babbling as I untied the scarf at your neck, "It's okay, it's okay, Kestrel. Remember Canaan? Has that prosthetic from BluRay? We'll get you one just like that. Good as new. An even better arm than the one you had. Nothing to worry about, okay? Hold still for me."

I got your arm out of her coat and tied the scarf around the stump. First as a bandage then wound tight to the bicep and tied in a tourniquet. I had no clue if it would keep you from bleeding out. But dammit, I fought for you, Tera.

I heard the shrieks beneath the earth and cursed. I did not think twice. That thing behind us began raging, which I felt in a furious headache. It nearly made me nauseous, but, adrenaline flowing, I hauled you onto my back and started running for our bikes.

***

Do you remember the day we met, Peacock? Over and over in my head it played. I'm not sure why since it was such a simple thing. I'd just come up from Eagle's Nest, the trade city at the base of the Maw. The Maw is this big fuck-off canyon in the southern Wastes. You never saw it cause Scissor-Tails never go that far south. These things called rock squids lived in there. Nasty fucks that were all gravel tentacles and beaks and teeth. Each one about the size of your head.

Anyways, I used to do protection work out there. Steady paying job for the caravans coming in and out. A girl with a gun who knows how to use it can get pretty far on her own in the Wastes. But I stayed in the Wastes. It was my home for the longest time. Till I met you. I took a job that'd take us up to Hypoxia. I'd heard rumors about the settlement, how the maelstrom got choked out there somehow. Lot of folks in the Waste just didn't believe it. I didn't, but I wanted to see for myself. So I took a caravan up there.

It was one of the more peaceful journeys I'd been on. No raiders attacking us, just a group of bonded who seemed nice enough folk. They warned us about a rockslide on our route and guided us around it, saying it likely had been set up by some clan of raiders.

Anyways, you were in Za'atar. I came in looking for a drink the day our caravan got into town. You sat at the bar, laughing your ass off at a dark-skinned human woman. Quetzal. Her head half shaved with a knot dreads on the other side of her head that swept down her face. She looked at you in this way that made me need to know who you were. This lizard in a smudged sundress and broadsword resting against the bar beside you. You were short, dark green scales and pebbly hide. But your arms were tight with muscle, and it was clear everyone knew you. Tarragon, a broad, black-haired bison who manned the kitchen and bar, laughed at some joke you told.

I sat down beside you, brushing against your tail, which caught your attention immediately. Quetzal gave me a look that told me she was not impressed with my boldness, but you turned in your seat and said, "Well now, an out of towner come looking for company." You had this grin that showed off the sharp, fine fangs in your mouth.

You had lost none of your mirth, so I shot back, "Only if the company is good."

You laughed and called out, "Tarragon, get this one a drink on me, will you?"

I couldn't help but smile, too. "My my, is this how outsiders are treated here?"

"Only the bold ones," you said. "I appreciate girls with nerve." And your eyes roaming me in my traveling clothes made clear what you meant.

"How did you know I was an outsider?" I asked. "Hypoxia is a pretty big place."

"Because the locals know better than to take a seat next to her without an invitation," your companion said.

"Quetzal, whoa, whoa, no need to be hostile. She doesn't know the way of things here," you said as Tarragon came back with a beer for me.

I took the mug and sampled the frothy, amber liquid. It was good, better than the swill we drank in the Wastes. I took another long drink and you laughed at me. "Your reaction to our food is also how I know you're an outsider."

"Yeah, sure thing," I set the mug down. "So what's with the sword, you some sort of hot-shot?"

"The hottest, hun," you said with a twinkle in your eye. "Caught me on my day off, but," and you pulled up your dress to your inner thigh. You had no qualms showing me the tattoo on your thigh, almost flashing me at the same time. On your scales was the black silhouette of a bird with its tail forked into two prongs. You asked while I soaked in the view of your legs much more than I should have. "You ever hear of the Scissor-Tails?" When I didn't respond you dropped your dress and, laughing, said, "My eyes are up here, hun."

"Uh, right, Scissor-Tails," I took a long drink, swallowed and said, "Rings a bell? That biker gang right?"

"Ding-ding," you said. "I happen to be the head of that little group."

Just this little exchange. Not the rest of the evening where we traded stories of our adventures or when you took me back to your rooms in the garage you and the girls lived in. Not the next morning where you spent every waking moment making me come undone.

Just that little exchange. I had the audacity to sit beside you, and you loved me for it, from the moment you saw me. Neither of us could have known at that point what we meant to each other.

I thought my life was in the Wastes. I left to return there the next day, but found myself on the next caravan traveling north just to see you again.

***

We heard them running through the woods. The tinkling splash of their legs like hail hitting a river as they followed us over the swampy terrain. I never turned around, just ran. Once you held up your revolver and fired a round at one of the beasts. Then, a few minutes later I heard nothing from you, but I still held your body tight. I never left one of my girls behind, Tera.

And what happened to you was all my fault. I needed to get you out of this fucking forest.

Of course, I just ran blind in a single direction, and, inevitably, the scourge-ants caught up to us. A claw slammed into my riot gear and sent us both rolling. I crashed into a tree, hearing pustules squelching pop in the collision. Dazed, I struggled to get to my feet under me, to find you, but one of the hulking thoraxes of those bugs blocked my view. I took the knife at my boot and gutted its underbelly, lashing out all cornered animal. The thing shrieked and leapt away like a startled deer, prancing and turning on its legs to face me. It bled a gangrenous ichor from its gut but my sting seemed to only annoy it.

And with the distance I saw them carefully pulling you back to the hill. I got to my feet and said, "Don't you fucking touch her."

Brandishing my knife, I charged the nearest bug. It clacked its mandibles in a chittering call, but a wave of psychic force stopped me before I reached it. Sharp, surging pain exploded my skull. Then dark.

I woke not long after. Trembling, I shoved myself to all fours and found myself alone. Gone, Tera. They had you. Back to their nest to devour you, I thought. It was the only explanation I could think of, but I had no idea why they spared me. I planned to fight them till they tore open my armor and gored me with their claws. It did not happen. I was alone in the forest. You were gone. You must have been dead. It was the only believable end.

I had no idea why they did not take me. I thought the psychic maelstrom is just funny in those ways. Then I considered what if I had died? With a curse I began peeling off my clothes in the woods, frantic to check my body for any changes. I was halfway out of the riot gear before I realized I couldn't be bonded. Grock had described what being bonded was like and I felt none of it--no reason to check if I had clovers or thorns or weeds growing between my scales. I got up, and I considered going back to you one more time.

It was over. You died. Whether bugs or blood loss. I should have known that. You had looked so scared, eyes flooded with tears, while I tied on the tourniquet. It was fucking wretched. You were not the first girl I lost out on a job, Tera. That was the thing about being a Scissor-Tail: we took the jobs too suicidal for anyone else. When it came time to box with God, our gang always got in the ring first no matter what trouble came for Hypoxia. Whether it was a raider hoard, scourge-ants nesting close to town, or some weird shit like this.

I had lost girls before. I had lost lovers before. But this...

I'm not sure how long I stood there in the woods before finally turning back. I found my way free of the forest, found our bikes, and returned home.

***

Za'atar had clean water the next time I visited Hypoxia! I could not believe it. Those bonded really can be a miracle, huh, Peacock?

I did not go to your garage when I got into town. I went back to the bar. Tarragon remembered my name soon as I took a seat. "Tera, right?" he asked. He set down a glass of clear liquid, which got me to ask, "Water?"

"It's clean, don't worry."

"What's it cost?"

"On the house, if you tell me what Tera stands for," Tarragon said with a wink. He wore this heavy leather apron, and helping in the kitchen was an equally big caribou. One of the bonded. He had a thick cape of brambles that grew out from his shoulders and nape.

"Terazosin," I said.

"Never heard that one before."

"It was some medicine back in the old world. I got my start scavenging from old hospitals and the name stuck."

"Makes sense," Tarragon said.

"What about your name?"

The bison shrugged. "I like the sound of it. Was a spice once, but no one has a clue what it tastes like, but the name is nice, yeah?"

I nodded, and tested the water. Chilled, clean and a little sweet. Purified water was such a treat. I shivered a little as I swallowed then said, "Oh, that's good."

"Have as much as you want. It's free here."

I remembered seeing the river that bisected the settlement. It has always been this brackish purple color, far and away from something potable.

"Did you manage to dig a well?" I asked. Wells were rare, as any hole dug deep enough the Earth usually closed up like it refused to let us go digging.

"No, it's from the river." By my dubious look, he added, "You notice that tree out around back?"

"The freaky red one with white pine needles?"

From the stove, the caribou made an irritated snort.

"She didn't mean anything by it, Banyan," Tarragon said. "That tree is a bonded. Was a person once, then a bonded person, now a bonded tree. And Banyan over there is Pine's bondmate."

"Oh," bashfully, I piped up, "I didn't mean any offense! I like bonded a lot, actually."

Banyan spared me a withering glance. Unimpressed with me, he began fishing some kind of pasta out of a boiling pot.

Clearing my throat, I said to Tarragon, "So Pine did this?"

"Yep, he purifies water from the river so we can drink it."

"How did that happen?"

Tarragon winked at me as someone down the bar called out to him. "Story for another time. You want anything else you just holler, okay Tera?"

I didn't. I took the glass of water in my hand and spun on the stool to face out into the bar. It was a pretty shoddy place, built out of the hulk of a ruined ship that once raided Hypoxia, according to the story you told. You could see the bulkhead of the old ship as it made the ceiling, the wooden floors clean if worn from constant footfalls. At the door was a bouncer, a female moose named Cheesesteak who occupied herself with a book that looked tiny in her hands. A few tables for folks to eat food at with a card game going on at one. All of the tables were mismatched pieces, mostly scrap-wood or iron, and the chairs were just as bad, but the stools and bar were in nice shape. Tarragon clearly cared about this place. It had a nice smell of burnt sage mixed with the beer that passed around the bar. Tarragon brewed them all, only three different blends, but between that and purified water it was practically as fine a place one could find.

***

"You've been quiet, Peacock," Tarragon said. A chair groaned as it took the bison's weight. He sat next to me, a frown on his heavy muzzle. On the table between us was a half-eaten dinner and mug of beer. Both, Tarragon had told me, were on the house, but I refused that pity party crap.

"Something wrong with the food?"

It was a stew. Like me, just sitting in its bowl. My body, this sad thing, hauling all these wet pieces inside it. It made me sick to look at. I'd not eaten since getting back from what Frost named the Welt. I came to Za'atar to try something, get away from Motmot and the girls who just would not stop treating me like some fucking porcelain doll.

"It's fine," I said, staring at the darkened broth. "You sure you don't need to be watching the bar?"

"Banyan can take care of things. You've not touched your beer, either."

"Not much of an appetite."

I felt Tarragon's eyes searching and searching me until he said, "I heard what happened."

"Yeah, suppose everyone has by now."

"Kestrel could still be alive, you know. Just bonded like--"

"Then why hasn't she come back to town?" I snapped. He wasn't the first to suggest that. I hated it when folks did. I fucking got you killed, Tera, and they tried to tell me you might still be out there.

Tarragon did not flinch. He said, "We both know most bonded go to the Cauldron when they come back."

"Fuck the Cauldron."

"Come on, Peacock..." Tarragon was right. The bonded settlement up there had been thriving, and Hypoxia, being psychically deadened, hurt most bonded to live here. Some got by, like Grock or Banyan, but most couldn't stand it. They needed that connection to the maelstrom to live. You being bonded wouldn't be much of a consolation cause of that, would it, Tera? You'd come back changed and wouldn't even be able to live with us.

I took a deep, shaking breath, and said, "I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to think about it. I am just trying to eat."

"Then do that, hun." And he placed three coins on the table, "But the meal is still on the house tonight."

Tarragon got up and went to the door. He whispered something to Cheesesteak and she nodded before running out. I barely noticed, turning back to the stew. Motmot had told me I needed to eat or I'd be fucking worthless in a fight. She wasn't wrong. That stubborn badger. I loved her, too. We'd been through hell and back, but still I felt raw and empty. I tried to eat, and forcing stew down my gullet almost hurt. I nearly choked. I did not touch my beer, but Tarragon soon brought over a glass of water. Two.

"What's this?" I asked.

"For you and your company," and he nodded at the door. I shifted in my chair to see Bloom had shown up with Cheesesteak. Tarragon had sent for the town doctor. The only person outside my gang who I trusted as much as one of my girls.

The slender heron kept their body hidden in a heavy doctor's coat. The plumage of their long, delicate neck had a bright blue color that turned green then to white markings on their face, ending in a beak slight as the rest of them.

"You've not seen me since your altercation," Bloom said as they took the seat Tarragon had taken earlier. "Normally you make an excuse to visit when you sell something from the Growth, but Motmot was the one who visited me."

"I've not wanted to see you," I said.

"I heard what happened."

"Fuck who hasn't?"

"You know if you're hurting I can give you something for it," Bloom said.

"I don't want fucking chillslabs to make me feel better."

"Then what do you need?" Bloom asked. Their thin, scaled fingers wrapped around their glass of water and they took a sip, dipping their beak inside it just a moment. After, they wiped off the beak with their coat so it didn't drip. I always found it funny how they interacted with stuff like this. The way they smoked, chugged beer versus sipping water.

I said, "I need time, Bloom, and I need people to stop treating me like... like I'm--"

"You want them to pretend nothing happened?"

"Fuck if I know!" I said, hugging my arms over my chest. I wore a tattered black shirt that once belonged to you, Tera. My claws pinched into the sleeves. It was too big for my torso and resembled an ugly dress on me, but when I put my nose to the collar I could pretend I still smelled your scent on it.

Bloom said, "You know you killed her, right?"

I flinched. No one had said that to me. Not one person would have dared. But Bloom leveled their icy stare on me and added, "Cutting her arm off that far from medical treatment? She was always going to die of shock."

"I... I thought..." I did not want to admit it. I did not want that to be the case, but...

Bloom pressed the knife deeper. "You did not want to admit you killed her, and no one is telling you what you want them to say. They keep telling you were right in that situation. That you reacted as anyone did. But you killed her, Peacock."

"Why are you saying this?" I asked, throat cloyingly dry. My eyes stung with tears. Not once had I cried but now...

"You needed someone to say it to you, didn't you? You've been walking around waiting for someone to say it. I know how you are, Peacock. Maybe that thing you found was going to do something far worse to her and you spared her from that. But you still killed her. Way I heard the story, you killed her when you decided not to turn back."

"God, fuck... fucking dammit... fuck..." I'd bent double and clutched at my chest. I had this hurt in me that raged and raged. It had been this ocean of ache, endless and impossible to swim through, but now it turned to a stabbing. Raw, a bubbling pain as if the ocean hit a boiling point inside me.

And Bloom was there. They had moved their chair closer and pulled my head against their chest. Their beak nuzzled my cheek, and they whispered, "I've fucked up and watched people die for my fuck ups. Given how shit the world is, and how there is only one of me in this settlement, I've watched it happen more times than I care to admit. I know what you're going through, Peacock." Their hand rubbed up and down my back, and, without a care to who might be there, I began to weep into their chest.

I don't think it lasted long. Bloom, fucking bless them, the asshole knew I needed something to turn on the waterworks. I cried till I made the blouse under their coat wet with tears. A few sobs wracked me and reverberated into them, and they swayed us in a gentle, soothing rock.

"It's going to be okay," Bloom whispered. "Don't throw away your life because you messed up. Do what you can to make this right."

"I d-don't... I don't know how?" I muttered into their wet front.

Glancing up, I saw Bloom's sympathetic look. They said, "For now, taking care of yourself and stopping with this hunger strike. You starving won't make the world spit Kestrel back out."

I took a deep breath. They were right, Tera. Tarragon was right calling Bloom here. They had a way of talking to me, unfiltered by the respect and reverence most of the girls gave me. Bloom talked to me the way you did, Tera. I'd forgotten in my grief, but now I realized I should have gone straight to them.

I said, "Tarragon has more than stew on the menu, yeah?"

"I can see about it," Bloom offered.

"Tell him I'm fucking starving, and his stew is shit when cold, and that he can put everything on your tab."

"Mmm, don't you always put it on my tab?" Bloom asked with a gentle smile.

"You're the town Angel. You get anything you ask for."

Bloom shrugged, "Stitching up you idiots does have its perks." Bloom rose from their seat and said, "Be right back," and headed over to the bar.

***

We sat on the roof of your garage. Unlike the older buildings in Hypoxia, your headquarters wasn't made from scrap but timber. Our legs dangled off the roof of the two story building, the first story gutted and turned into a garage and the second a living quarters. You had told me the place had been a brothel owned by a seedy thug. You had worked there, smuggled into town as a slave, like many of the girls in the brothel. Then one day you shot and killed the old owner, drove out his thugs, and claimed the building for yourself.

It amazed me someone could hold you in captivity for even a second, Peacock. You have this force of will, this intensity to you that made me believe you could shrug off the full weight of the psychic maelstrom.

Below us, ten of your gang of twelve played in front of the building. It was a sport involving hoops on two sides of the building, and scoring points by any means necessary. We had played a game ourselves, and I could smell both our sweat. I savored that, leaning against you with your arm wrapped around my waist.

"Your caravan goes back tomorrow?" you asked to break our silence.

"I may have told you it does."

"Meaning?"

"It may have left without me this morning."

"And you're still here?" you asked. "Are you kidding me, Tera? You've got no prospects here, no place to stay--"

"I've been saving money, and I can find a room and work. I was hoping a certain lizard would let me share her bed."

"Pfft, the girls will riot if I don't try to squeeze some money out of you for it."

"Mmm, I like when you squeeze me," I teased, my more dexterous tail wrapping around yours.

"Really, though, Tera, what the fuck are you thinking?"

I frowned and we looked at each other. You could put on this mother hen look, a symptom of watching over your girls, I suppose. I wasn't offended by it because I know it came from a place of deep concern.

"I was thinking of you," I said, placing a hand on your thigh. You wore a faded tank-top and skirt, both stained in places with grass from getting tossed around. "In fact, Peacock, when I'm not _with_you I'm thinking of you constantly."

Your eyes went a little wide, throat bobbing before you yelled out to your girls, "Come on Quail! Don't let Motmot push you around!"

"Peacock..."

"That scares the shit out of me, Tera," you said, as if you didn't mean to admit it. "Our kind of work... we lost two girls in the last year, and I've been beat up more times than I care to admit. You... you shouldn't get attached to me."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I might die any day, from any kind of random bullshit. That's the thing about being a Scissor-Tail, Tera. The bikes last a lot longer than the bikers."

"Then all the more reason for me to be here," I insisted, a little angry with you for pushing me away. "You know how anxious I get when I'm heading back to the Wastes? I think, she might die and I won't know until I come back and by then everything could change. If things change, Peacock, I want to be here. I want to be with you."

"Fuck, am I really worth that, though? Your life in the Wastes, Tera you're starting over with nothing--"

I held the hand you still had around my waist. "I have you, idiot."

Those simple words hit you so hard I felt you shiver. You leaned against me and grumbled, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Mmm, before you know it, I'll be on one of those bikes, too."

"Psh, I'm never letting you ride a bike."

"That so?"

"Yeah," you said, simple but with this breath of warmth and affection. We had relaxed into each other, and I wrestled with both the urge to linger in this moment and to break it so I could fuck you on the rooftop.

Eventually I said, "You know, I'm pretty good at getting my way."

"Got an idea of how you'll change my mind?"

I giggled and kissed the top of your head. "Several, love."

"Love?"

"Yeah, I love you, silly."

"Heh, I love you, too, Tera."

***

I put away enough food and beer to get properly wasted. It wasn't right. I wasn't right. I gorged myself like I wanted it to hurt me. Bloom noticed, and eventually convinced me to go on a walk around the town. Hypoxia is a good place to just stroll. It took about an hour to pace the perimeter of the settlement, and walking along the river could be pleasant. Despite the unhealthy color, the river carried this sickly sweet floral scent to it. Bathing in it you might come out smelling like a perfume bottle, which some folks did long as you didn't drink none of it. Good way to get the shits for a week, or worse if you were unlucky.

We ambled along one length of the river, then crossed one of the settlement's two bridges and paced back up the other side of the bank. Around us Hypoxia buzzed with preparations for the winter. Snow might fall, and the chill killed most crops this time of the year, but the Green Sea remained green, those tall, chest high grasses stayed stubbornly upright no matter how much snow fell.

Bloom and I had long silences in our walk, and moments of frantic talking about what happened. I told them the story, straight from me. And we talked a bit more about you. It had been a year since you decided to stay in Hypoxia, two since we met, and only three months since you joined the Scissor-Tails.

Somehow we wandered back to the clinic. Fluoride had been taking care of it for Bloom. The young human had been their apprentice for some time at this point, and lived in the clinic proper. Bloom checked in on the human, then stepped back out. Their clinic had a small, shed-like apartment built on top of it, with a stairway leading up from the outside. I stopped in front the stairs, expecting to part ways, when Bloom took my hand.

"You should stay with me tonight."

"I don't want to trouble you--"

"No trouble," Bloom said. "I want you here, and you could use a night away from your garage."

I glanced in the direction of it. A five minute walk from where we were, near the base of the rise where town hall was.

I told Bloom, "You're probably right."

"Consider it a diagnosis. Time with me is your cure."

"Heh, that so doctor?"

They mounted a step and winked. "It is, now come on."

Bloom led me up the stairs. I had slept over many times before at this point. Before I got tangled up in you, Tera. I thought Bloom might be the only person I could love who wasn't one of my girls. I just had immeasurable respect for the way they handled and worked in the world. We both understood each other. Things were frayed and shit, and the only way people got a shot at a normal life is if people like me and Bloom worked our asses off for it. Different work, but unlike me our doctor was irreplaceable. They brought people back from the dead, while all I did was hack things up with my sword.

My sword... still at the heart of the Welt, still with your blood probably dried to it.

"Peacock?"

I blinked. I didn't even remember stepping into the apartment. Bloom turned on the overhead lamp and shed their doctor's coat, revealing the sharp lines of their figure. Most people never saw them without the coat. They took off the long, pleated skirt they wore (their sharp clawed toes made pants impossible). Bloom wore nothing underneath that skirt, so I caught the familiar sight of their strong, feathered thighs which turned to dark, scaly legs at the knee.

They were reaching to undo the buttons on their nape when I blurted out, "Let me help with that."

This room smelled of Bloom. Soft, sweet and musty. There was the bed, a night table with a lamp, a chair to sit in, and a closet. Everything else, treating patients, going to the bathroom, cooking food, all of that happened downstairs. They only went here to sleep, and, well...

"It's been a while," Bloom whispered as I undid the buttons on their back.

"Yeah," I said. "I've been busy, but I have missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

The last button ended at their shoulder blades. "Not jealous about me spending all my time with, Tera?" I asked as my hands reached around their front to pull up their shirt.

"I'm not the jealous type," Bloom said. "Not anymore, at least. It got me in enough trouble with Frost as it is." I lifted the blouse off them and they turned around, pressing that warm, naked body into me. They, like you, were lean and tall. I nuzzled into their plumage, their chest almost flat but for a pair of small breasts. One of those strange, worthless things kept over from when Earth was still warping humans into the bodies we all had now.

I breathed in their scent, and I let you go, Tera. For that moment, I could let you go, but Bloom asked, "Are you sure this is what you need? We can just talk, or sleep."

"No," I growled with a hunger. They reached for the hem of my shirt, your shirt, but I stopped them from removing it. "This stays on."

"Alright," Bloom said. "Your leggings and boots, though?"

I nudged them to the bed. "You get comfortable and I'll take care of that."

"Mmm, you're supposed to make me comfortable."

"You always were a brat in bed," I said as I shucked off my boots. They were kept on by a set of buckles and straps, made to cover and bind to my digitgrade feet. Next came my leggings, then the cool air on my bottom and a warm bird in bed before me. Bloom spread their legs and perked up their hips to show where pubic feathers sheathed their sex. Their chest rose and fell in a needy puff.

"Well?" Bloom asked.

I was in bed with them in moments. It was a mattress made with the blooming, dandelion-seed like blossoms that turned the Green Sea turquoise one week out of the year. It made for a wretched week of pollen for everyone, but after the blossoms scattered they could be used for any conceivable kind of cushion. We sold the shit, even, given how rare it could be in other places. Bastards in the Waste often shaved their fur and sold it, or so you told me, Tera.

Not the case here: the bed warm and soft, bird warm and soft. I buried my snout into Bloom's lean stomach and kissed them hard. Their back arched in a sensitive little gasp. I did love that about Bloom. About birds in general. They tended to be so sensitive and easy, especially compared to me and my scaly hide. I nuzzled and nipped them, pinions teasing on my tongue. The taste of Bloom made my slit stir with warmth. I kissed down to their pubic mound and rolled my thumbs into the flesh just below their pelvis. Bloom's thighs closed in a weak little moan. They loved getting that spot massaged. I kneaded the flesh and nuzzled their mound. The spicier scent of their sex really made my cock start to throb.

"God," Bloom hissed as I let my tongue drag across their closed lips. "I missed this--ah!" They gasped when I pinched their thighs, letting claws drag ever so slightly across their flesh. Now my cock peeked from my sheath and let the touches of my earthy musk join Bloom's scent. I grabbed the quivering quim of my heron and split it open. Their pussy was a peach color when spread, flushed with life. A filament of arousal shimmered in the overhead lamplight. Everything about Bloom stoked a hunger in me.

My snout burrowed into their snatch. Bloom almost squawked. Their hips rolled into my questing maw as my tongue filled their passage. They were bitter, sour, and spice. Their walls wrapped around my long, reptilian tongue and clenched. Arousal rewarded my hungry muzzle. Bloom must have been wanting this. I rubbed their clit up and down with the rough scales on my snout, nostrils flaring at the outpouring of their arousal while my tongue dove in and out their honeypot, and Bloom choked on a moan, hips bucking and thighs closing on my head to keep me in place. Their sopping cunny drooled down my jaw line. I let my whole world become the taste and touch and scent of Bloom for a moment.

My dick ached unattended over the bed while I stayed kneeled between their thighs, worshipping them. Eventually I wrapped my arm around their thigh, fingers combing through feathers, traveling the familiar terrain of Bloom's body. First those soft, greyish blue feathers of their front, down to the mound in spasm against my lips. Still, I kissed it. Their sex slaked a thirst in me that had no bottom, my tongue undulating in that vent, clenched upon when my roaming digits found Bloom's clitoral hood. They cursed, and I let a growl pour through my lips as I began to gently rub the arc of that hood. Gentle touches, applying pressure but not outright touching their button. I almost felt the tension building in my partner's belly, the way they shivered and shook. They humped into my maw and my tongue answered in hungry laps. Occasionally I slobbered over their inflamed labia, but I mostly remained buried in their flower.

And when I knew my teasing had gone on long enough, I began circling Bloom's clit. First slow, then faster and faster, the rate crescendoing like Bloom's moans. Their body locked up while I tortured their clit through every shake and shudder while their pussy pulsed. Spasm. Wet. The body exploding its ecstasy. The taste of that a rapture like flying on our bikes, Tera. You know it, we spent so many nights seeking it in one another.

I did not want my thoughts to turn back to you, but they turned. A weight, bitter and hard settled in my chest as Bloom's body went slack like a lock with the right key in it. They released me and I climbed up to them. I hugged their body close to me, as if I might smother out this grief in my chest. The weight of your death had its own gravity well--threatened to drag me into the center of the Earth. My arousal had slipped away, and my cock began its retreat back into my slit.

"Did..." Bloom gasped, "Uh, did you not want--"

"Not tonight, hun."

The crack in my voice got Bloom to rouse a little quicker. "What's wrong?" they whispered. They rolled on their side so I might huddle up against them, and they said, "Talk to me, Peacock."

"I just... I thought if I just... I still can't--"

"Sh-sh-sh, that's the hardest part about grief. It's just going to take time. It's okay if this is all you need."

"God, I'm supposed to be tougher than this," I said in a bitter growl. Another sob heaved through me, followed by more tears, some of them born from frustration. I was supposed to be tougher than this.

"It's okay to be weak."

"I'm supposed to be--"

"Not here, Peacock," Bloom cut me off. "You don't need to be strong with me. You can just be you, and sometimes you gets hurt. That's okay."

A wry smile parted my muzzle. "Getting hurt is just part of the job."

A gentle giggle from Bloom.

"You remembered?"

"Of course I remember," Bloom said. The first time I crashed on a bike, Bloom had asked me what the hell I had been thinking. If I even cared about getting hurt. That's what I told them: getting hurt was just part of our job.

But fuck, Tera. Nothing ever hurt me like this.

The weeping started all over again. That ache in my chest made me want to die, but Bloom patiently held me through it, talked me through it, till the storm passed and, exhausted, I passed out.

Might have been the worst night of my life, Tera. And let me tell you, I've had more bad nights than I care to name.

***

The second time we met, Peacock, you had just come back in from a patrol. I'd gone from Tarragon's to waiting in the garage, getting to know Quetzal better.

We had been talking while Quetzal did upkeep on her bike. I leaned against a shelf lined with crates of different tools and scrap metal, relaxing till we heard your bike's distant rumble. I learned from Quetzal you went out with four girls, but you came back with three. You, Motmot, and Quail all rolled in looking grim. You stayed slumped on your bike while the other girls got off theirs. Motmot was a badger bigger than most folk in Hypoxia with an intimidating set of fangs and a tangle of dyed purple curls that typically fell over one of their red eyes. And Quail, that human always puzzled me, covering her pale body in tattoos of old brand logos from before the Wakening. Every time she discovered a new one she would go off and add it, having dozens on her at this point.

My eyes stayed trained on you while I heard Quetzal ask, "What happened to Rook?"

"Riding the winds now," Motmot answered. I learned later that's what they called burning the remains. Unless folks asked to be buried so they might come back bonded, we burned everyone. Green Sea, the Wastes, didn't matter where, it's always been common practice.

"You didn't take her back here," Quetzal more observed than asked.

"She wasn't in one piece when we found her," you said. I saw this hardness lining your face that I'd yet to see, but I understood it. Living in this world meant living with death. Everyone got used to it. You, especially, had to be used to it.

You got off your bike and flipped up the kickstand and, as if you just noticed me, asked, "What are you doing here?"

"She wanted to stop by and say hello to the girls again," Quetzal spoke up for me.

"If now is a bad time--"

"No," you said, slinging your sword off your back and resting it against the bike. "Stay, if you'd like. You can help us honor Rook tonight. Motmot, get on the radio and call the girls in. Fuck patrols tonight, we're still throwing a wake."

It took most of the night, but getting to see your smile again made my morning hangover worth it.

***

I stood on the hill in the middle of the Welt. None of that rancid smell there this time, but that tumor of amber and resin remained. It glowed and pulsed, and I felt it calling me, Tera. I wondered what it must have sounded or felt like to be called to it. This Siren in the Green Sea. I wondered if the caravan we went there to find had ended up a part of this inexplicable growth. Up close, those knotted bands of amber were moving, I realized. Slowly, like clouds through the sky.

And your voice, Tera: "Come back to us, Peacock."

"Kestrel?" I asked, throat still feeling scratchy from crying. "Kestrel are you trapped in there?"

"There is no trap, Peacock. We share a bond. We are connected. We and we and we and we."

I scowled. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I am here, Peacock."

"That's not Kestrel's voice. Kestrel didn't talk like this."

"Come find me."

"Peacock?" I started and almost tripped. I fell against the shut gate to Hypoxia, the metal with a biting cold to it. I pushed off, turning around to see Quetzal standing in the moonlight. It showed the clear concern shining in her face. She asked, "You okay?"

"Fuck," I cursed and glanced down. Yep, I wasn't even wearing pants. I said, "I think I was maelstrom walking."

"Here?" Quetzal asked. "The maelstrom can't even touch us here."

"It's happened in town before," I said. "I dreamed I was at that spot where Kestrel and I... where everything went wrong."

"Oh, fuck," Quetzal didn't ask permission. She hugged me to her chest, making sure to wrap my shivering self in her coat. "Let's get you out of this cold. We can deal with this in an hour or so."

"How late is it?"

"Sun will be up soon."

"Fuck."

"Sleep well, at least?"

"Yeah, at Bloom's," I answered as we walked back to the garage.

"Tarragon let us know."

"I need to do something about this Quetzal. Something about all of this is wrong."

"That's where you're wrong, Peacock."

"If you tell me I need to stay home and--"

"We need to do something about it," Quetzal said. " Here's something our fearless once told me when I joined, she said, 'You're a fucking Scissor-Tail now. If anyone fucks with you I'll run them over or run them through. And if anyone ever hurts you we'll hurt ten of theirs. Don't let anyone forget it."

"Heh, I really say that?"

"Yeah, Peacock, and I'll never forget it."