Where the Hell's My Coffee?
by Selvane Vladiva
<Area: camp among the coniferous trees, somewhere in Marraketh,
or wherever the hell we are>
Selvane slowly opened one eye and surveyed the small
shelter. It was morning. A small slit of sunlight drifted down
through the smoke hole in the roof and landed squarely on his
face. Aristalrus sat across the shelter, gazing quietly at him.
"Good morning, Mr. Vladiva. Sleep well?" she queried with
mock cheerfulness. Selvane opened the other eye, slightly
annoyed. He grunted slightly in recognition of Aris, and shifted
to a sitting position.
"Any more problems?" he asked. She shook her head.
"I buried our unwelcome visitor about a hectometer
yonder. Nothing else decided to drop in, so I finished my book,"
she shrugged.
*Read a book on watch? What is this woman thinking? Could
get us all killed. And why is she toting a book anyway? Never
understood these magical people. Never will,* He kept his
thoughts to himself. While Aristalarus talked, Selvane pulled his
pack closer to him, and immediately holstered his Gloc .45. After
which, he pulled a few rations and a small pot out of his pack
and began to cook a sparse breakfast of dehydrated protein meal
on the glowing embers.
"I thought about it last night, and I couldn't figure out
why that thing was warded. Bothers the hell out of me. It means
someone could be out there, stalking us. It means that someone
could be selling wards to every baddie out here. It could mean
nothing at all. But I'd just like to know who- or what - that
thing was!"
Selvane stirred the protein meal and shrugged, "Doesn't
matter who it was. We're supposed to be watching our backs
anyway," Aris seemed a little aggravated at Selvane's response,
"Worrying about who might be out there isn't going to help. It
doesn't change our situation. Just watch your back,' before she
could respond, he arose, "I'll be back," he crawled out of the
wigwam and stood in the early morning air. His breath curled
before him in the pleasant manner of a crisp winter day. Light
filtered down through the slowly swaying pines, leaving a million
shadows dancing on the forest floor. He stopped and breathed in
the cool air. It reminded him of home. He walked a few yards off
into the forest and relieved himself, mindful to cover up the
snow. Before he stepped back into the shelter, he took a short
pull from a flask he kept in a breast pocket, "Home in a bottle,"
he muttered.
Evidently, his partner saw. When he re-entered the shelter
she asked, "What was that you were drinking out there?"
Selvane sat and dug out his spoon, "Vodka," he answered
simply. Aristalrus sighed in disgust.
"Gah!" she erupted, "Unprofessional. You can't get drunk
on assignment, in the field. It's just plain stupid! Firefoot's
fe'thra, last thing I need is a wasted Russian with a gun!"
Selvane seemed a bit startled by her reply, and then gave her a
wry smile.
"I could not get drunk if I wanted too. Not nearly
enough vodka," Selvane returned to the protein meal, "Have you
got a bowl?"
Aris simmered with frustration. She glowered at the
slightly chuckling Russian, and dug out her bowl. "Look," she
said, "If you wanna get plastered on your own time it's none of
my concern. But we're in the field, here, and it's not just your
tail riding on this, it's mine. So: nothing that can make you
woozy, got it? I don't care how fast you process alcohol, I don't
want to take the chance." she hissed.
Selvane shrugged, *Was this witch woman a born Boy
Scout? Obviously never drank alcohol before. Ever. Best to
placate her, and get on with life. I will miss the Smirhnoff,
though,* he tossed her the flask, "Smihrnoff. Good Vodka," he
pauses and lifted the pot, "Here's your's," he scrapped about
half of the protein meal into her bowl. Aris unscrewed the cap of
the flask and slowly poured the remaining liquor onto the glowing
embers, where a quick blue flame leapt up for a moment, throwing
a wave of heat throughout the shelter. She started at the flame.
"What proof was that?"
"190."
Breakfast was a hurried affair, the protein meal and
carbohydrate bars being downed in 10 minutes, the dishes being
done in two. Soon the fire was stamped out, and the shelter
dissasembeled, the building materials tossed about the forest in
a helter skelter manner. Snow was piled over the fire pit after
it was well cooled to assure a measure of stealth. The tracks
about the site were brushed out with a pine bough, and soon the
two were in the middle of the glade again, where the night had
started, sans 4 inches of snow.
"Okay, I think we should head for that city yonder," Aris
indicated the blur that they had both seen last night to the
west, "If it's not Rhye, we can at least get directions, and
maybe find a road or something, transportation maybe." Selvane
nodded, holstered his pack and headed to the south.
"There is a plain just to the south of here that looks as
if it gives a relatively direct path to that city," he turned his
eyes west, "It is... perhaps 35 kilometers [1] away. We should
hurry. We don't know how long the daylight lasts here," and with
that, the duo slogged off into the pines.
You've only got one finger left;
And it's pointing at the door;
And you take it for granted;
What the Lord's laid on the floor.
-Beck, Lord Only Knows
[1] Equivalent to 21 miles.