Going Feet First Ch. 02

Figuring he would cross that bridge when he got there, Galen grabbed an extra sidearm along with several extra magazines and boxes of ammo. The shotgun and its shells as well. He'd have to make up a scabbard or something of the like to carry it along with the rest of his gear, but at least there was a satchel for carrying the shells.

Only issue he found with the scatter-gun beyond its weight was that he only had about forty or fifty rounds of buckshot all together. But considering he was in a forest, where close quarters with either sentient beings or animals was a strong possibility, he wanted to have that spread of pellets handy. He just had to be very conservative with the how much he used it.

In the next crate was the collection of 7.62mm both in boxes on stripper clips and linked up into belts for the M60. Figuring Michael wouldn't need all of it, Galen took two ammo cans of rifle ammunition and tossed them into a spare bag along with some extra magazines before shutting the crates.

With the shotgun slung over his shoulder, the satchel of shells hanging at his side, and the pack of rifle and pistol ammo hanging off his back, Galen huffed at what felt to be fifty pounds of extra gear. To combine this with his ruck alone would likely break his back before he got too far into his trek. Considering he was at the start of this chosen road of his, he really didn't want to put himself in a situation where he had to hope his healing magic repaired a busted spine. He would have to divvy up the weight with his companions.

"Leaving now?" Mila yawned as she rolled over onto her back.

The Private glanced over at the Neko as she kept the parachute pulled over her body and her arms covering her breasts. One side of his mouth curled up at his Sergeant's luck before he nodded and averted his eyes for the sake of decency. "Yeah. I got supplies to last an' a guide who knows how to survive, so I'm good t' go. Thanks for everything, Mila."

"You are welcome, Galen. May Necela smile upon you in your travels."

Oh, you don't know the half of it, he thought as she rolled over to go back asleep. As quietly as he could, the soldier slipped out of the door on his tip-toes. Closing the flap behind him, he turned and found Michael standing before him with his arms crossed.

"What the Hell is all this?" he exclaimed in a low voice, grabbing the barrel of the shotgun and giving it a shake. The ammo in his bag giving a tell-tale rattle.

Thinking fast and not wanting to mention he had a former Ra'zorlich with him, Galen explained, "Celia is surprisin'ly tough for such a small gal. She wanted to help carry somethin', and if she can do it, I may as well bring along something she can defend herself with."

His teeth sank into the back of his lip as he watched Michael's face harden. Those eyes of his narrowing down to a lethal intensity. "Fine, whatever. Just make sure she doesn't accidently look down the wrong end of the barrel or get knocked on her ass firing it. Damn scatter-gun is too messy for me, anyway."

"Thanks, Michael," Galen said, offering his hand.

He accepted the shake only to pull the younger trooper forward and throw an arm around him in a brotherly embrace. "Take care, and stay strong. Don't let anyone get in your way."

"I won't. Be seein' ya, Michael."

"Stay safe, Galen."

Both soldiers parted, and then snapped to attention before bringing their hands up to salute. With that, the Private turned and walked away. Watching him leave, Michael suddenly felt torn between worlds. Part of him still wanted to grab his gear and go with his fellow paratrooper out into this new world. Keep with him what remained of his life of Earth. The other part kept him anchored where he was; standing in the middle of the Willher village with his new family, his new friends, and his new life.

When Galen was nearly out of sight, the Sergeant sighed and bowed his head, ultimately wishing him the best of luck as he turned and went back into Mila's tent.

...........................

Sitting cross-legged on the bed in the scout cabin, Celia continually mouthed words in her Elvish language. Golden lights danced in her hands as she rested them on her knees, her eyelids fluttering with her body's aura completely extinguished. It was a fair challenge to keep her concentration as she saw the mesmerized look Petra bore as she watched her meditation. The Neko's tail was flicking side to side with her eyes rarely blinking as she stared.

"So you lost your clan and their magic for him?" the former Ra'zorlich asked.

Celia finished her chant and nodded, "If you have seen as many male minds and spirits as I have, you'd see that he is truly a gem. He is one even among the other males who passed our trials."

Quirking her mouth with a hint of a frown, Petra probed, "So he's what? More kind? Stronger? Better morals?"

"Maybe not stronger, but he is better in most everywhere else," the Elf answered, opening her eyes as her hands dimmed and her golden aura returned to normal.

"So with him... as my..." The Neko had to swallow her pride as the next few words hung off her tongue. "With him as my 'Master,' I won't be in danger?"

Celia shook her head, "Maybe from others who wish for our lives, but from him, never. Just remember how he treated you even when he knew who you were."

Right then the door burst open with their young soldier standing silhouetted in the morning light with a proud look. Metal clacked together in a bag on his back as he stepped into the room, sliding a metal tube off his shoulder that was followed by a satchel that he handed off to Petra. "I need you to carry these. They're really important, so don't let them go."

The Neko cast him a questioning look as she put the satchel over her shoulder and inspected the odd contraption he had given her. Seeing it from afar, Celia recognized the general design of it with the wooden butt and the long metal pipe coming off of it that her soldier had called a "barrel" on his "rifle." If she had to guess, this thing Petra now slung over her shoulder was another weapon of his world.

"Celia, here, see if you can lift this," he said, pulling off his backpack.

"What is this?" she asked, climbing off the bed and taking the pack. A sudden yelp escaped her as the weight of it pulled her down. Despite lifting with her legs, she couldn't support the weight of the pack for long and was forced to set it down on the floor.

"It's heavy!"

Bearing a guilty look for pushing the burden upon her, Galen explained, "It's what gives my rifle its thunder, so I can defend us. I need to bring it with us, as it's all I'll ever have from now on."

"But it's heavy, Galen! I can't carry this!"

Before another word was spoken, Petra took the pack from the Elf's hands and threw it over her shoulders. Despite that second weapon and satchel, the Neko didn't even blink at the weight. Looking to Galen, Celia could hear the condescension in the Shadow Stalker's words as she stated, "If she cannot handle it, then I will take her burden. Do not worry about weighing me down, *Master,* Nekos are much stronger than any Human, or Tree Elf. This is nothing for me."

Celia blinked in surprise, just as Galen did. There was a contemptuous glare on the Neko's face as she cast her narrowed gaze upon the soldier, though it became one of pity as she glanced to the Elf.

"I didn't want to put too much weight on one body," he said sheepishly before turning to Celia, "I'm sorry. I thought you could handle it."

With a forgiving nod, Celia rubbed her shoulders as she said, "It's okay, Galen. You didn't know and I was not prepared. I'm going to have to show you how to use conjuration so you don't have to carry any of this."

He raised an eyebrow, "That sounds... pretty awesome. But let's get going here, the sun is rising and I want to make tracks and get Necela's task over with. I'd love to listen to your explanation on the way."

....................................

The sun had cleared the horizon and was continuing its ascent into the sky. By now all of Atzla's nocturnal creatures had gone to sleep as the daytime beasts came out to hunt their morning meal. Birds sang, squirrels barked at each other, the odd bush rustled as some furry creature darted away from the trio that walked the woods.

As Galen and Celia quickly adjusted to the morning light, Petra didn't have nearly as easy a time. With two weeks since she had last seen daylight, the change was wreaking havoc on her eyes. To keep her night-vision at its peak, she had stayed within the confines of her loft above the barracks and only came out after the sun had gone down. No lanterns, no candles, no windows, she spent her time maintaining her skills in complete, utter darkness.

And I lost it all on one botched assassination.

Taking deep breaths and holding her head high, Petra shoved this bitterness from her mind. It would do her no good in the long run, and if she let it fester then it would only drive her to do something she would likely regret at some point. That, and worse fates could have come upon her than him; already he had somewhat proven his service a preferable alternative to death.

Despite how early it was on her first day with him, the Shadow Stalker could draw the conclusion that the Elf was right about her new master. Carefully watching him and how he interacted with both nature and his Elf confirmed it. In his gait she saw a refined warrior; alert, focused, and well trained. In his eyes she saw charm, kindness, and strength. Then there was that certain gentleness to his actions, the calm way he talked despite how his accent making him sound like he had several rocks in his mouth.

In some ways, he reminded her of Farok from a time when the Hunt Commander was a young man. Just how similar they are to each other... I will have to see.

For now, the majority of her intrigue in her new master lay in the marks on his arm and the magic he possessed. He did not look like a mage, and he certainly did not act like pitifully weak ones born in her clan. One clue she got was Atzlar's name constantly being brought up in the conversation Galen held with Celia when they referred to the marks on his body. That alone made it clear the god was involved in some way.

Her only question was, how?

"It won't work with words! You must focus on what you wish to move separate from anything around it, then imagine taking it into your mind, and placing it in your hand. If you want to send it back, simply hold the object in your palm, not letting it touch anything but you, and then envision where you wish it to be and dropping it there."

For what had to have been the third time, Celia continued to attempt to explain the "Elven conjuration" to Galen as they walking alongside each other ahead of Petra. To his credit he was grasping the concepts to a decent extent, just putting it into practice was where he continually fell flat. With his hand lit up in its white glow, she watched him try again and again to work the spell only to finally sigh and take a break.

"You said there was more to this magic than moving things around?" he asked, flexing his tattooed hand to work out its trembling.

Celia nodded, "Yes, the spell can connect you with a magical place you can store things, a sort of suspension that freezes them in time. You saw us do it with the food we could not finish, it preserves it perfectly to eat at a later time. But that part of the spell is a bit more complicated, we can learn that later."

"Have you done that kinda magic yourself before?" Galen asked, thinking back to how the clan made their whole table with food vanish.

Ears drooping with her embarrassed look, she admitted, "No, my Elder clan-sisters were waiting for me to reach the end of my first century before I was taught some of the more advanced magics. But I have watched Tanza teach it to elves who were of age! Sometimes the problems you find are with the image of the object in your mind. Tell me, what are you trying to summon?"

He gave her a shrug while rubbing the back of his head. "Water from Mila's tent."

Shaking her head, the Elf exclaimed, "That's too far away! Something you can't see may have been moved, and you can only conjure something to you from so far. Try something else..."

She scanned their forest surroundings a moment, looking for just a small item to test his ability. "There, a pebble. Try bringing that to you. Once you learn how to do it, then you can try for greater objects and farther away. Just don't try for anything living, or attached to something living."

"Why? What happens then?"

"You could rip the creature's spirit out if you're not careful, and doing so will kill it."

Glancing down at the leaf tattoo on his palm, he muttered, "Oh..."

Cycling his lungs, he looked to the pebble she had pointed to and held up his now-glowing hand. He stopped walking for a moment and his eyes narrowed with a rather intense, focused look. Petra paused as well, one eyebrow raised as she followed his gaze to the thumb-sized stone.

"What are you doing?" she asked in Nekonian, as she hadn't understood their Elven conversation.

Celia turned to her and pressed a finger to her lips, earning herself a frown from the Shadow Stalker before her feline ears turned toward the pebble. The stone had begun to vibrate, both the girls' eyes widening as the rock bounced around before the glow in Galen's hand died out. Sucking in a lungful of air and coughing it back out, the soldier hit his knees grasping his chest.

"Galen!" Celia cried, putting herself at his side in an instant.

"I'm alright, I'm alright..." he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and breathing in deep. "Whooo, that really sucks the life out of you. I almost had it though!"

Chuckling her initial worry away, Celia smiled as she said, "Almost, love, almost. But I think that's enough for now, we need you at walking strength."

Her soldier gave her a nod and then looked to Petra, changing his speech over to the Nekonian tongue. "Let's take a quick break here, I need to rest."

The Shadow Stalker cocked an eyebrow at him as he dropped his gear on the ground beside him. Rubbing his shoulders and giving a yawn, he settled in against his pack and relaxed with Celia swiftly moving in to lie down beside him. Petra quickly followed suit, removing the bags he had given her and laying them at his side before glancing up at the sun's place in the sky.

"Noon is approaching, and reaching Rock Falls will still take a half day's walk," she guessed before turning away from the sun to blink away the spots in her eyes. "We may be able to move faster once we reach the River High, but it will be sundown by the time we arrive."

"River High?" Galen asked.

Brow lifting up in surprise, Petra looked to the Human ready to belittle him for his unfamiliarity with one of the main waterways of Atzla. She stopped just shy of opening her mouth as she recalled the comment Necela had made about him. Despite the haze she had been in at the time, she remembered quite clearly that her goddess said he was "new" to Raska. Impossible as it was, being from another world would explain his clothes, his gear, and his eccentric ways.

Rethinking the words she planned to say, Petra chose to calmly explain, "The main southern water source for Atzla. It flows from the south-east end of the forest all the way to the Human city Redding."

"That's convenient," Galen noted. "We're headed that way anyway."

Petra's ears perked up in alarm, her fists clenching as she snapped, "We are?!"

"Yes... What's the matter?" He sat up off his pack to turn to her, leaning down on one elbow as he asked, "Do the Ra'zorlichs not like the city too much?"

Mentally berating herself for that pathetic show of fear, the Neko forced herself to shrug to feign a more casual composure. When he gave her an inquisitive look, she grumblingly admitted "There is much history there, between them and the Ra'zorlichs."

"Well, I'd like to hear it," he said, in that cursedly innocent way with a genuine show of interest.

Petra sighed, shaking her head before moving to take a seat in front of him and his Elf. "To understand our forest, it would be best to know who inhabits it. Of our ten major tribes in Atzla, three are Nekonian, two are Avien, one is Human, three are Lycan and the last one is the Tree Elves." She glanced at Celia.

"Each tribe has varying populations and numbers of villages under their banners, but the largest tribes are my people the Ra'zorlichs, here in the southwest, and the Avien tribe known as the 'Fliegens' in the north."

"What's an Avien?" Galen wondered.

"A feathered, bird person," Celia cut in. "They look a bit like us, with hair on their heads and a mouth and long ears like mine, but they're feathered around their collarbones from neck to shoulder and down their back to their feathery tails. Their arms can act as wings to fly, and they have talon claws on their hands."

The soldier's brow rose as the Elf lifted her hands up with her fingers curled like she had claws before she reached down to rub her hands down her torso. "But their fronts are featherless from their collars to their hips, and despite having... umm... 'normal-like' legs like us, their legs are feathered and their feet are just like bird talons."

Painting the mental image in his mind, Galen nodded at what his Elf described while rubbing his chin. He nearly jumped as she suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! They also have really powerful eyesight, and really great stamina. Last one to come to my clan was before my time but I was told he was able to satisfy half of us before he was worn out."

As fast as that image had come to his mind, Galen was doing his best to shirk it, distracting himself by asking, "Celia, how old are you, exactly? Who were your parents?"

The Elf went from giggling to completely serious the instant she heard that second question. Ears dropping ever so slightly, she answered, "I am eighty-nine years old, but if you compared that to a Human life span, I wouldn't even be a young adult. I do not know how old we can grow, but Tanza is more than five hundred and she still looks like a Human that's thirty. As for my parents..."

A sigh escaped as she looked to the tree tops, sorrow slowly taking over her face as her golden glow dimmed. "My fathering male was Avien, from one of the small tribes. He apparently died in his sleep twenty years ago. And my mother..." Her lips pursed as she hung her head down.

"Don't tell me she was one of... those... ones I..." Galen stammered.

The Elf only shook her head, "No, she has been gone for a while now... she..." A tear suddenly traced her cheek and she stood up. "Petra, could you continue your lesson to him? I'm going to take a walk."

Mouth hanging open without a word to say, Galen reached out to Celia only for her to pull the hood up on her cloak and walk off into the forest. He called out to her but she simply assured him of her return and kept on going. The soldier frowned at this and got to his feet only to find a furry hand grabbing hold of him.

"Stay," Petra ordered despite seeing the worry scrawled in his features. "If she desires some time alone, let her have it."

"Did I say somethin' wrong?" he wondered, looking to the Neko.