Llamia

   “This is where the bathtub is?”

And what a nice bath it was! Laurelai had particularly enjoyed the bubbles-- some of which still clung to the walls and ceiling. And the floor where she had tracked them behind her. And a towel or six.

She held up an electric toothbrush, clicking the button. It buzzed in her hand.

Riona took Laurelai’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “No more fighting.” 

“Now, maybe you can help me figure out exactly where I am? You said this was your territory, right?”

She never knew where she was anymore. Leaving Muirin was needed, but the world was so much more vast than she ever imagined.

Not only did Laurelai not understand the meaning of truce, but the custom of handshakes were foreign as well. No one ever seemed to want to get close to her, which in retrospect was probably for the best as she tended to be jumpy.

Her hand closes around Riona’s, circling the delicate bones of her wrist. She does not let go; her grip cold and firm, her gaze directed at their joined hands.

    [she has seen humans do something similar to this,      when walking in pairs. Did it imply ownership?]

   “Oui, this is the Cemetery, and these are my roses.”

With her free hand, she gestures at the old stones behind her-- half-hidden in the overgrowth of rose bramble. 

    “The Town is that way,” Laurelai pointed East.

“I promise,” Riona swore. “I cannot personally even hunt an animal. I will eat a deer or a rabbit, but I cannot be there for the hunting part. It needs to be meat before I can stomach to look at it again. I do not hunt children, either.”

Riona looked into the Llamia’s eyes, watching the way they glittered like the stars. It reminded her of silver swirls from an afternoon lifetimes ago.

“Truce?” she offered.

With Riona’s agreement, Laurelai relaxed marginally, though she wondered how the woman had survived for so long if she did not hunt for herself. Humans were one thing-- helpless creatures-- but this woman was not human.

Not entirely. 

She tilted her head, a slow blink belaying her lack of understanding of the word ‘truce’. If it was a gift, she would accept it.

Laurelai held out one hand, palm-up.

“How and why would we trade them?” Riona asked. “Faeries can’t hide their wings. Humans long ago kidnapped us and trafficked us for our magic. We went into hiding. We don’t want to turn the tables!”

Riona hoped this wouldn’t last much longer. She’d flown quite a ways, and her left wing, scarred and fragile, was tiring. She would need to land before long, and she’d be right back in the clutches of Laurelai.

“And, no, of course the stars didn’t warn me about you. It’s not like they can tell me the exact future. The future is not set in stone. There are infinite possibilities of what could happen, and possibilities are what make life interesting!”

  “I don’t know! Maybe.. your babies are not as good tasting?”

Laurelai had to admit that there were gaping holes in her theory. She crossed her arms, staring sullenly-- suspiciously-- at Riona. She knew what it meant to hide.

    [to be the last of her kind.]

In the darkness, her eyes glittered as if they possessed light of their own.

“What in stars’ names are you talking about?”

“I don’t hunt children! I don’t steal! I talk to stars. I learn about possibilities of the future. I try to help.”

Riona stayed in the air, not about to give this llamia a chance to grab her. 

   “Liar. The stars did not warn you about me!”

Laurelai might not be able to reach Riona, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try and continue the fight.  Frustrated about this perceived ecological threat, Laurelai stomped one bare foot and clenched her fists.

“Okay, no!” Riona exclaimed, jumping up into the air and sweeping her wings deeply so she moved upwards faster. “What did I do? What is happening?”

Laurelai missed the first attempt, and sprang into the air again as soon as she touched the ground-- wildly grasping for Riona.

Failing in that, she crouched on the grass.

  “You will not be hunting the children in my territory!” She hissed, baring her fangs.