Chapter 32:

Warmth of the Fire

Tales from Zemliharos: Night of The Striga


It was the warmth of the fire that Peter first noticed when he awoke. He swore he could still feel his lungs burning as he heaved his first few heavy breaths. While the algae-like hair from Lyana’s double wasn’t in his mouth anymore, his throat still ached as if he had tried to swallow needles. He then looked around, trying to gather his bearings. It seemed like only a few moments ago he was going to meet his last moments, drowning in shallow water after being catfished by whatever he just encountered, only to find his clothing pinned up on a clothesline, still appearing a bit damp and muddiest from the shoreline. He then saw her, the only reason he was still alive. Lyana rubbed her hands together, attempting to stay warm with the lake breeze picking up under the still of night.

“Am I dreaming again?”

“It’d be a pretty pathetic dream if you were.”

“What happened?”

Lyana threw more firewood onto the campfire. “Your little rendezvous with a rusalka happened. Desperate men lead to desperate times. Though I suppose I should be flattered, they’re said to turn into the woman you desire most to bring you into the water, before trying to eat you at least.”

Peter rolled onto his side, feeling a level of guilt consume him that he hadn’t been prepared to speak to her about. “Lyana.”

“No, you don’t have to explain yourself. But you know nothing about me, and if you did, that thing wouldn’t have transformed into me.”

“I think I know a lot more about you than you’d like to admit.”

Lyana’s eyes glowed with a ferocity at the thought. “Just because you know I was an outcast for bearing the curse. I’ve done far worse to you.”

“Like what?”

Lyana tried to avoid showing the uneasiness in her eyes, but she couldn't help but expose them to Peter. “I’m the reason you’re stuck here, ok. We knew the krsniks would be a threat to us for as long as they existed. Our spell was designed to bring the weakest of your line into our world, and send away the Zrinski we knew to yours, and use that chaos to strike. Only I got it wrong, you’re not the weakest, not in the slightest.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Trust me, you did me a favor, I don’t have anything back there. But I have something here now. I have you.”

Peter reached out to her, but she moved away. “You don’t understand. I’m cursed. I’ll turn into one of those things one day, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. It isn’t fair to you.

Peter still couldn’t help but resort to laughing, it was the only way he knew how to handle this, "Believe me, none of my relationships have been fair. My first girlfriend died in college, the other one attempted suicide and my final one cheated on me. What’s turning into a striga one day, when there’s no guarantee that’s anytime soon?”

Lyana couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm a little. “You really are the biggest fool to enter Ragusiic.”

“No, this makes me the biggest one.”

Peter grabbed onto the back of Lyana’s neck and guided her closer. She leaned down and couldn’t help but let his desires become one with hers. The two kissed, then kissed again, until their warmth became one under the fire.

The next morning Peter awoke more invigorated than he’d ever felt. Despite still being a bit sore and swore there were still bits of algae on his teeth, his evening more than made up for it. While the campfire was reduced to mere ash at daybreak, he still felt its warmth all the same, as Lyana still slept next to him. He moved his hand slowly up from her hips and side and kissed the side of her cheek. She purred at the gesture and rolled over to greet him.

“Good morning.”

Lyana giggled to herself, “You know I never would’ve dreamed of a day where I’d be waking up next to a Zrinski.”

“And I never thought I’d be sharing a bedroll with Lady Hovart.”

She tapped him on the nose, “I’m no Lady until we take back Zemliharos, remember that.”

“You are in my book.”

“Then it's a good thing the Vojvoda owes me a favor.”

“Though if I’m going to repay it, we need to find this leshy, do you have any idea how to find it.”

“Not a clue.”

The two sat in silence together, staring up at the trees above them. Peter could make out the calling of ravens. They flew together in flocks, circling around with breakneck speed, their caws often drowning out the chaffinches and wood pigeon’s coos. As he focused on their caws, Lyana suddenly jumped in place, scrambling to get dressed. “That’s it.”

“What?”

She pointed up towards the trees. “The ravens. Magic users use them as their eyes and ears. If we follow them, we’ll find the leshy.”

Peter scrambled to put back on his tunic and gambeson. While they smelled half refreshed after having the shoreline wash away their sweat, they were still undeniably damp as the wet cloth brushed against his chest. Lyana threw the rest of the items back onto the back of Bura, ready to take the world by storm once more. Peter scrambled to roll up the bedrolls, while trying to get his boots back on. Lyana fidgeted while watching him. “Come on, we need to move while we still hear their cawing.”

Peter managed to get the rest of the items in place, and jumped onto the back of Bura. Lyana joined behind him and the mare bucked onwards, galloping while trying to chase down the leshy itself. 

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