Whispers by the Kappan River

"Malakor…"

"No."

"Mala~kor…" she sang, drawing out his name in a wheedling tone.

"No."

"Oh, come on, Malakor."

"I have told you, no."

"Would you please? Just for a little while?"

"Nay," Malakor rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant refusal. "You were the one who insisted on bringing the slave, and because of that, we cannot stop until we are well clear of these lands."

"It wouldn't hurt anything," Jianna pressed, her voice taking on a desperate edge. "Just a quick bath…"

She nearly collided with Malakor's broad back when he stopped dead in his tracks. He pivoted to face her, his rugged features carved into a thunderous frown. In response, Jianna offered what she hoped was a disarmingly charming smile, but Malakor remained entirely unmoved by any aesthetic considerations of modern dentistry.

His words were slow and deliberate, each one landing with the weight of a stone. "We do not have time for you to bathe. The villagers will be incensed that we have absconded with their 'property.' You may wash yourself once we are outside their territory. Understood?"

Having remained a silent shadow for the entire journey, Blynn spoke up, his voice a strained, raspy whisper. "Um… I think we should find a different river for you to wash in, regardless." He scuffed the earth with his hooves, casting an anxious look toward the crystalline water they had been following for the past hour. "I have heard that Kappan live in this one."

"Kappan?" Jianna asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What's a Kappan? Some kind of fish?"

Malakor let out a snort of pure derision, then turned and resumed his relentless pace, forcing Jianna and Blynn into single file behind him. "Kappan are not 'some kind of fish'," he called back over his shoulder. "They are spirits that dwell in rivers and lakes. If you wander too close to the water's edge, they will drag you in and drown you."

"Why?" Jianna asked, her voice laced with astonishment.

"To eat," Malakor stated, his tone grimly matter-of-fact.

"…Oh," was all Jianna could manage in reply.

As they plodded onward, Jianna began to look around, truly taking in the landscape that she had previously dismissed as the scenery of a convoluted dream. Alien trees, the likes of which she could not begin to name, loomed high above. Their trunks twisted like the gnarled figures of ancient men, and their branches wove together into a dense, leafy canopy that suffocated the sunlight, plunging the forest floor into a world of constant twilight. Long shadows and lush, damp greens dominated the undergrowth. They walked several paces from the river itself, which flowed with a deceptive slowness over a bed of smooth stones. Through the clear surface, Jianna could just make out dark, ephemeral shapes flitting beneath, though none appeared large or threatening enough to drag a person under.

At Malakor's command, they had long since deviated from the main path, plunging deep into the vast woods. He had insisted it was their only defense against a potential ambush from villagers intent on reclaiming their satyr. The terrain was a constant challenge. Low-hanging branches snagged in Jianna's hair and scraped against her exposed skin; hidden roots and moss-covered boulders conspired to trip her; and invisible crevices threatened to twist her ankle with every other step. Malakor, with his six-limbed stride, navigated the landscape with an effortless grace. Blynn, too, handled the uneven ground with the familiar ease of a native, faltering only in the occasional muddy patch where his hooves struggled for purchase.

Staring at the river's falsely glistening surface reminded Jianna of a more pressing need, one that now superseded her desire for a bath.

"Hey, Malakor?"

Without breaking stride, he grumbled, "What is it now?"

"I have to use the bathroom."

"…Can't you hold it?" There was a coaxing, almost pleading note in his voice now.

"I really don't think I can," Jianna said apologetically. "I haven't gone since before dawn, and walking right next to the sound of running water really isn't helping…"

Malakor heaved a sigh of utter defeat. He stopped, shrugged his bulky pack to the ground, and jabbed a thumb toward the dense thickets. "Go. Just be quick about it, Jianna."

With a grateful smile, she set her own pack down next to his. The grin faltered, however, as she peered into the dark recesses of the forest and contemplated the task ahead. I guess I don't have much of a choice, she thought. Even on the rare occasions my family went camping, there was always an outhouse. Well, here goes nothing. This must be what 'roughing it' really means. Losing all her bravery, she called back over her shoulder as she pushed her way into the trees, "You guys better not peek, okay!"

"Don't worry," Malakor drawled. "We won't." Then, much more quietly, he murmured, "Bloody human Outrealmer…"

Malakor settled himself beside the packs, arranging his four lower limbs comfortably beneath him as his eyes scanned their surroundings for any sign of danger. A few feet away, Blynn sat with his arms wrapped around his furred knees, which were pulled up tightly to his chest. For several long moments, they sat in a heavy silence, the only sounds the gurgle of the river and the rustle of unseen things in the undergrowth. Finally, it was Blynn who broke the quiet.

"I know you do not want me with you," he began, his voice so quiet that Malakor had to strain to hear it. "We are not so far yet. I know the way back. If I just go… the others will likely stop their pursuit. Then perhaps—"

"Could you do me one favor?" Malakor interrupted, his own voice quiet but distinct. "I can barely hear you. Could you speak a little louder?"

"I am speaking as loud as I can," Blynn replied, and his whisper sharpened with a sudden, serrated edge of anger. He lifted his head, tracing a line across his neck with one thin finger, indicating a swath of scarred tissue. "My voice was taken. You are asking me to speak louder when I am already practically yelling at you?" The fury in his hushed tone was unmistakable.

Malakor winced, mentally cursing his own tactlessness. "My apologies," he murmured, his voice softening with genuine regret. "You… can speak however loud you wish."

"Thank you," Blynn replied, and even in the hushed response, Malakor could not miss the biting sarcasm.