Going Feet First Ch. 02

She bowed her head respectfully and turned to the fire speaking loud enough for her people to hear, "I, Mila Preatu, with the sparkling blessing of the night's goddess, declare my love for Michael Polson: a Human of Earth and a warrior who pledged himself to the defense of our people, and his heart to me and me alone."

A silent moment was held, a chance for any final objections to come forth. When none came, Misn spoke again. "The tribe blesses you, young Mila. Michael is no longer of Earth. He is of the Willher of Atzla, but above all else, he is yours. May your love carry you both happily into the Serene."

That was all she needed.

"Whoa, hey!" Michael blurted out as she grabbed onto his arm, pulling him out of the circle back toward her home. He barely managed to catch himself on his crutch as she was almost bouncing on her feet to get them both out of there. The kitten had caught its toy, now it wanted to play.

"Where are we going?" he asked as the crowd parted to allow them passage into the empty village streets.

"We've finished our part," she happily purred as they got away from the gathered tribe. "We may leave as other new couples now must undergo their rituals."

"Going somewhere?" Galen butted in.

Mila stopped and turned as the young man and his love broke from the crowd surrounding the Great Fire. The Neko's smile broadened as she saw Celia without that terrifying mask on and snuggled against his side with her golden glow bathing the area around her in light. Even with the smoke from the fire blowing past her she didn't even wince, meaning those spirits were released.

"We're going to my tent, for privacy," Mila answered, glancing over to Michael.

Galen blinked when he noticed it, that sparkling look in her eye. It matched the one Tanza had when she led him to her sheets.

Bowing his head slightly with an understanding grin, he gave a quick chuckle before looking over to Michael. The signs had been obvious that something had been brewing between him and the Neko, but it only occurred to him now what it was exactly. Just as it now occurred to the Sergeant what Mila's intent was as he turned to her with that sly look he had when he returned from a successful hunt.

"Is there somewhere Celia and I can spend the night?" the Private asked. "My plan is to head out in th' mornin', make my way toward Human lands. I wanna learn a bit more 'bout this world, and maybe how t'get back to ours."

"You're leaving?" Michael asked with a bit of shock to his tone. "Why?!"

The Private shrugged, "I don't know about you, but I still wanna try an' find my way back home to tell my Mom I'm alright. I have a lot of family, I don't want 'em thinkin' I'm dead."

"And what of Celia?" Mila cut in.

"I'd come back, of course. Things are simpler here; with no Russians, no Vietnamese, no atom bombs. May gotta fight once in a while but that's what my rifle's for."

There was a pause as both the Sergeant and the Neko swallowed this down. With an understanding look, Mila started, "I don't think you would wish to stay with the sick people in our medicine hut, so... west of the village, in the trees, there's a small cabin. It is unused, and will comfort you both for the night. Come morning, I will point you toward Redding, a Human city west of Atzla."

Galen grinned and bowed his head in thanks. "That's much appreciated. My gear and that pain-in-the-ass rifle I got is in your tent, so I'll grab 'em then head out to the cabin."

The four walked back to Mila's tent in the moonlight, listening to both the vocal declarations from other young couples at the fire and the soft taps of Michael's crutch hitting the dirt path beneath them. The golden aura about Celia suddenly began to flicker in a very subtle manner. The Elf noticed, though the others did not. Very casually, as to not raise any alarm, she began glancing at her surroundings, searching for the object she felt manipulating her energy flow. It had to be close, though she could not tell what.

When they reached their destination and stepped inside, Michael stumbled over to his makeshift bed and collapsed right onto the parachute. He kept his injured right leg stretched out as he drew his left back while holding his hands behind his head to hold it up and get comfortable. With Celia waiting outside, Galen came in and opened up his pack to organize its contents and return his gasmask before doing a quick inventory of what was roughly two days' worth of food and one of water.

"Hey," Michael called as he shut his pack to draw his attention.

"You stay strong out there, kid. I don't want to see you leaving but I don't figure to have any authority to give orders to you anymore. Not on this world."

"Is that your way of telling me I'm free?" Galen laughed, bringing a grin to the Sergeant's face as he nodded.

"Keep tough out there, kid, and don't let anyone push a man of the 101^st Airborne around. If the-" Michael stopped as his eyes caught something on his young friend's left hand. "What the Hell? What the fuck is that?"

"What?" Galen responded as he lifted up the appendage in question and noticed a dark shape that formed on his palm. Instead of squinting to get a good look in the dark, he stepped over into the moonlight coming in through the open flap in the tent roof.

It was a leaf. He had what looked to be a tattoo of a leaf on a vine on his hand. But it wasn't just on his palm, the vine continued on down the side of his wrist and disappeared under his sleeve. Before Michael could even ask what it was he had begun to unbutton his uniform and strip off his jacket and t-shirt.

"What is it?" Mila asked as his clothes hit the ground, blinking in surprise the moment she saw the Private's bare upper-body.

"Galen, when did you get ink done?" Michael chuckled.

Both eyes wide, he immediately called, "Celia!"

"What's wrong, love?" she asked, stepping into the tent.

The sight of the new designs stretching across the left side of Galen's chest stopped her dead in her tracks. A tattoo of a long vine adorned with dozens of leaves had formed over his heart. From there it circled his nipple and ran all the way down his left arm like ivy around a pole.

Celia bolted over to her soldier in an instant. The glowing aura around her body suddenly flaring to the point that she lit the entire tent better than a dozen lanterns. She grabbed onto the limb and examined the images in his skin with a careful eye, scrutinising every detail as she ran her glowing finger over the faux foliage. Her face stuck in awe the entire time.

"What is it?" he asked.

Golden light consuming her right index finger, she prodded one of the leaves on his shoulder and instantly felt a tingle in return. Eyes blinking with a sudden realization, she looked up into his face and asked, "What were the first three magic spells you witnessed me or my sisters perform?!"

"Wha-?"

"First three spells, Galen, think!"

"Uhh, being able to see your village... healing me up... and making something disappear and reappear, why? What's this all about?"

Celia sighed with a bit of a grin, her hand gently stroking his arm along its new tattoo to make it flash a luminescent green. "Elf sight, restoration, and conjuration... Galen, you are lucky."

That seemed to be a trend recently. Cocking his head with a confused look, he asked, "Why is that?"

Holding his tattooed hand with both of hers, she affectionately rubbed the leaf on his palm and chuckled with a dispirited smile. "I could only ever give Elf sight, as Tanza was still waiting for me to mature enough before she would trust me with something so simple as healing. But now, Atzlar has blessed you with more."

Eyebrows climbing up into his hairline, he simply muttered, "What?"

Celia shut her eyes as she traced her hand over the leaves on his arm. A strange new sensation tingled in his palm as he fingers lit up once again with their golden glow.

"I've heard only stories about creatures more mortal than elves being blessed with these gifts..." she said as whatever she did made his new tattoo again shimmer with green light. "The magic here is not to the scale we may use it, as you have no real connection with any true source. But when the tree spirits entered you, they triggered the magic of Atzla forest granted to you. Something Atzlar must have done back in my village."

"So... what does this mean? I'm magical now?" he questioned, looking to his marked hand and flexing his fingers.

Her eyes opened as she took a deep breath, "It means Atzlar liked you more than I thought. I cannot perform so much of my forest magic anymore, but I can show you how to use yours... come I'll show you some now."

She took him by the hand and pulled him over to Michael, getting him to kneel down beside the Sergeant and press his tattooed palm against the wounded leg.

"Gahhooww, fuck! That hurts! Celia! Galen, what the fuck are you two doing?"

Celia muttered in Elvish to the Private, prompting him to give several confused responses. She gave him another answer, yet his confusion persisted to quickly wear her patience away. When she spoke again her voice was picking up in volume and slowing in speed to make her words clearer. Yet she still got nowhere as her student stared blankly at her.

Watching this, Michael couldn't help but chuckle and grimace all at once as she refused to let Galen release his wounded leg. He looked to Mila at the back of the tent, his girl blinking in wonder as the Elf flickered and flushed in frustration. Glancing back at Celia, she had raised a hand in front of Galen's face as she though she held a ball. With her fingers curling in over her palm her skin lit up in a bright glow. But again, the Private shrugged while giving a short, flustered, response.

The Elf let out a long sigh, keeping Galen's hand pressed firm against Michael's bandages as she thought for a moment. Her ears suddenly perked up, her aura dying down as she turned back to her pupil. She raised three fingers and placed them across his forehead before uttering a few words. At once, his shoulders fell, his body becoming loose and relaxed as fatigue caused Celia's ears to droop.

Then Michael's eyes widened as Galen's hand began to glow.

A few more words were uttered from the Elf's mouth before her hand pulled away from her soldier's forehead. Eyes fluttering, she fell forward and slumped against him with her body trembling and eyes lolling as she fought to stay awake. But despite her effort, as her love returned to consciousness, she slipped from hers.

"What. The. Fuck," Michael muttered as he stared at Galen's white-glowing hand.

The words went unheard as the Private was still operating on automatic responses. His mind was clouded yet thoughts raced through it more vividly than he had ever known. They weren't his thoughts, by they were clear none-the-less. With them he had managed to summon real magic to his fingertips and in his love's musical language he rhymed out the phrase, "Undo the damage done, give health back to whom it was taken from."

"AAHhhhhh! HHHAAaaayeaaaahhh owww... Dammit!" Michael howled as it felt like a blow torch was being pulled across his wounds. He grabbed his thigh as its bandage wrapping came undone and fell away. To his astonishment the wool wrap turned to ash as the gouge in his flesh rapidly sealed shut.

The pained yell in his ears drove the clouds from Galen's mind as he returned to full awareness with a coughing fit. Seeing his hand grasping Michael's leg still, he pulled it away and shook it out until the white glow faded. His breath was heavy, and chills were arcing across his body, but he stared in amazement at the spot where his friend had been cut open. In the place of the pair of gouges sundering his skin and muscle was now a duet of ragged scars.

The sides of the Private's mouth curled up as he looked back down at his hand, focusing for a moment to cause it to glow again before shutting it off. That smirk turning into a toothy smile, he then looked to Michael, who sat frozen staring at him with his mouth agape. Shrugging innocently Galen pointed at the Elf sleeping in his lap.

"Her fault. She freed the tree spirits, and because of her, those free spirits did this to me," he gestured to his tattoo.

"Atzlar's grant," Mila murmured in complete awe. "You were given Atzlar's grant... Our healers would give a life time of favors for that..."

The soldier nodded, lifting up a glowing hand, "And now I can do this."

Still in a bit of shock, Michael slowly bent his once-injured leg, finding it free of any sort of discomfort or cramping. Rejecting Mila's offer of help, he lay on his back, kicked his feet up and snapped his body forward to land in a low crouch. In the first five seconds of his renewed mobility, he already had Mila impressed with an acrobatic display. Flexing out his leg, he began doing squats and small hops in place to test his healed limb. When nothing gave him so much as a stabbing pain, he turned to the soldier beside and gave him a hearty slap on the back.

"Galen, you magical son of a bitch! You magnificent bastard!"

"Hey, don't thank me. Thank her when she wakes up," he replied, gently rubbing the sleeping Celia's shoulder.

"Better save that energy, Hopper," Mila cooed, earning her a devilish smirk from the rejuvenated Sergeant.

There was a great well of pride flushing Galen's cheeks as he scooped up his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. With Michael's vocal admiration of his new bad-ass scar, the Private just chuckled and pulled on his jacket, pack and rifle before scooping Celia up in his arms. With a grunt and bit of help from his Sergeant, he got to his feet and gave his hosts a nod before saying, "I better get going to leave you two alone. See y'all in the mornin'."

Michael and Mila wished him a good night, and not five seconds after he had left the tent, he heard the Neko giggling in excitement while her lover whispered things that he couldn't hear. A few moments after came muffled moans as he walked down the path toward the front gate.

Sure aren't wasting any time... he thought before looking to the Elf in his arms. He had to wonder when Celia would come after him for it. When she would want her turn after he failed to give her one earlier.

Galen shook his head as a chuckle suddenly escaped him. This was not how he expected his second day on this world to go. With the Tree Elf trials in the morning, followed by the feast at noon and the ceremonies immediately after, then a long hike in the late afternoon to the village so he could see Michael essentially get hitched... No, this was not the day he expected to have.

The village guards at the front gate gave him respectful looks as he approached, and they pointed him in the direction of the shack that Mila had spoken of. He gave his thanks and continued on, anxious to get to a bed and finally get a good night's sleep...

"Human!" a Neko male called out.

God dammit.

Galen stopped and turned as two Willher warriors dragged a third Neko between them, her feet dragging along the ground as she hung limp in their grasp.

"We have a gift," the warrior declared as they held their capture up before him.

"What is this? Who is she?" he asked, turning to the speaking warrior.

"A Ra'zorlich," he growled with a dark simper, his fangs shining. "She is the one who tripped the fire trap in your metal beast. Papers in her bag have your face drawn upon them. She is an assassin, sent to take your life."

The Private paused for a second, fairly surprised Michael and Mila's idea worked in getting a bad guy rather than an innocent. Frowning, he shoved that thought aside and instead pondered on what cultural practice he was getting involved in now. The Willher warriors were presenting him a living being as a gift and looked like they expected him to accept it. If she was what they claimed her to be, then that left the soldier wondering they didn't just lock her up or kill her.

"So why are you bringing her to me?" he asked, a question that seemed to bewilder the two warriors.

"She tried to take your life..." the other warrior said as though he expected Galen to understand. "In her failing to do so, you have to claim hers."

"What?!" The Private's brows bounced right up under his helmet over his broad eyes. "Th' fuck does that mean?!"

"Are you not understanding? She is a Ra'zorlich, -female- Ra'zorlich, who was coming to take your life, to assassinate the one that her warriors could not slay in a fight far into their favor. And she failed. Laws treat assassins worse than warriors, her life is forfeit."

"Wait, what?... what? Are you?" Galen frowned as he closed his eyes and thought over what he just heard. There were a few cultural or racial laws they were referring to that he didn't know about but what stuck out the most in his mind was that first part. Shaking his head and casting a both questioning and disgusted look at the warrior, he asked, "You're giftin' her t'me as what? A war trophy to... to... warm my bed sheets?"

The Neko frowned in confusion, looking to his partner and wondering in his language, "What did he ask?"

That other Willher shrugged. "I think he confused what you said with something else. I think he believes we are giving him a female to be his slave."

Shaking his head, the other warrior said, "You not understand, Human. As our laws say, assassins are honourless creatures, and in her task she has failed and been captured by her enemy. Warriors who surrender or are captured are a dishonor to her tribe, and must serve a sentence to earn their honor back. This law is for assassins as well only they cannot earn their honor back for they had none to start. You being her main target means what becomes of her is your decision, whether you give her death, or shackles."

"Shackles?" Galen repeated.

The Willhers nodded before one of them answered, "Yes. Her life being taken in place of yours. Only no blood is spilt, and she is shackled to your service for life."

The Private thought for a moment as he glanced over the supposed, "assassin." Dried blood settled around what he saw to be the hollow tips of her fingers as though she had been declawed very recently. Her pitch black fur was singed in places, and she reeked of burnt oil and aviation fuel.

All things considered, her body was quite beautiful. Taking into account the slight rise in the Nekonian warrior's shorts, Galen guessed that if he didn't claim her then the Willhers would. If that happened, with them assuming her to be a Ra'zorlich, this woman would likely suffer a long time before being put to death. If they would put her to death.

Granted, she was likely trying to kill him, but he knew that he would rather eat a bullet rather than face "shackles" or a similar fate any day. But what of her? What was her preference? What if she was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time? He wouldn't make any call without knowing her half of the story and he definitely wouldn't leave her to some draconian punishment if she was innocent.

Giving a sigh, he ordered, "Bring 'er to the cabin in th' trees. I'm spendin' the night there an' I'll come to a decision tonight."

"As you wish," the warrior responded, turning to his pack mate. "To the scout cabin."

That second Willher nodded before lifting the Ra'zorlich woman up and moving with his partner to follow Galen. "He would not have difficulty coming to a decision if he knew what that tribe has done to us. To our healers who wished nothing more than to offer help. Or to his friend Mila's parents for that matter... Unfortunate that the other assassin was charred right down to a skeleton. We may have been able to enjoy revenge upon her."