2k words. My apologies once again for the delay, I was feeling a little bummed out and distracted, which isn't a good combo i'll tell you that twice.
***
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he grumbled, lifting his visor and rubbing his temple, still dizzy from his headbutt with the rat. “We should make a hasty retreat, the shots and the smoke will draw more of your ilk. Mine too, no doubt.”
He made to move, but Skyseeker stopped him, pointing a claw at his arm, Roderick tilting his head as he followed her finger. The plates covering his bicep was sizzling with lingering lines of warpfire, Roderick batting at them until they were snuffed out, patting the rest of himself down just to be safe. After he was done, he shouldered his way into the trees, moving in the opposite direction of the treeline, Skyseeker trailing behind him.
-xXx-
They stopped to rest only when the site of the ambush was far behind them, the plumes of green-tinted smoke trailing into the air becoming small enough Roderick could cover them with his thumb. The flames would act like a beacon to the whole of the Trantine Hills, drawing any passing patrols and armies into the area, but at least the covering of the forest should shield them from prying eyes.
“You sure you aren’t wounded?” Roderick asked, his knees cracking as he crouched beside a tree. “You were outnumbered three-to-one a couple times back there…”
“Clanrats fight like hungry pups. Not big deal,” Skyseeker replied, waving a dismissive hand as she collapsed onto a nearby root. She slid across the curved bark, letting gravity pull her to the ground where she draped over the grass like a corpse. She didn’t look wounded, but all her spinning and jumping had certainly taken a toll on her, the rat panting hard beneath her hood.
He pulled his canteen from his pack, taking a swig, the cool water soothing his throat on the way down. He then held it out. “Here,” he said, noting that her eyes were shut.
Skyseeker rose to a sitting position, regarding him with a suspicious look as she leaned on an elbow. “What?” she demanded.
“What do you mean, ‘what’? You may not be wounded, but you’re tired. Drink up.”
He could see the cogs in her head turning as she flicked her gaze from him to his canteen, squinting behind her goggles. The Skaven was probably wondering why he was being so courteous, Roderick’s own train of thought following a similar path.
She slowly extended her arm, and when she was close enough, she snagged his canteen with all the speed of a bullet, as though being close to him for any amount of time was a risky endeavour.
The last time he’d shared his water with her, he had to chide her like she was a disobedient child, and for a moment he thought history would repeat itself, Skyseeker shielding his canteen from view as she turned away slightly. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she took only two gulps before stopping, parting her sharp teeth to loose a refreshed ‘ahh’.
“Rick-rod should be hurt one,” she said, tilting her head in his direction. “Fighting wind globadier, not as simple as fighting stupid clanrat.”
“I’ll say,” Roderick replied, remembering how violently the Skaven had choked on his own poison, how easily it could have been him writhing on the ground.
“You fight… good. For a man-thing,” she added, covering one side of her face in what might have been embarrassment.
“Well I’ll be. Only a few days ago I was just a stupid chump, now you’re complementing me?”
“You still chump,” she assured. “but… my fur would have burned in warpfire if it… you… were not here-there to shoot rat-thing. Can’t fight Skyseeker, but can fight Skaven good-good.”
It was a long-winded way of saying he was a skilled fighter, but he supposed the Skaven wasn’t used to giving praise.
“Still stroking your ego over our little bout, I see,” he chuckled. “Perhaps we should find time for a rematch. That you simply landed the first blow does not warrant total victory, especially when we’re both still alive.”
He saw the muscles in her arms tense, her hand creeping down her waist towards her belt, the strap brimming with daggers, Roderick quickly holding up a hand to stop her.
“Relax, I was just joking, lass.” She continued to grimly stare at him, apparently not believing a word. “It would be fairly unwise of me to backstab my only ally now, and an ally you surely must be, since you didn’t side with those Skaven back there when you had the chance.”
She began her reply with a snarl, as if talking about her own kin disgusted her “Siding with Pestilens rats very bad for health. Disease-musk stick in fur forever. On the other paw… Siding with man-thing much better. Less stink, more olives! Refreshing experience!”
“Not exactly the sturdiest foundation for trust, but good to know,” Roderick replied, his armour creaking as he shrugged.
“Trust?” Skyseeker echoed, pronouncing the word like she was making fun of his accent. “Not same thing! Man-thing like…” She stroked her snout for a moment, her thoughts coming to her after a moment. “Like whisker! Useful, but not necessary!”
“If that were true, you would have ditched me long ago,” he noted. The Skaven didn’t appear to have an answer for that, folding her slim arms over her front as she glanced away.
“We should camp here for the night,” Roderick continued. “Take advantage of the shade while we can.”
He set about making a fire, keeping the flames small and controlled so they didn’t attract unwanted attention. A few hours later, Roderick busying himself with his new sword while Skyseeker lingered nearby, and the half moon had risen into the sky, the light it shed rivalled by that of the warpfires still raging to their far north, a globe of green permeating the sky.
Soon the silence was broken as Skyseeker started to mutter, Roderick turning to see her propped up against a nearby tree root, her face pointed directly up, the canopy sparse enough to give her a view of the night sky. She was pinching one of her google lenses, the sound of a spinning dial reaching his ears.
“You needn’t fear the griphon, lass,” he began, her head snapping his direction, as though she’d been caught doing something inappropriate. “They’re not nocturnal, they only hunt during the day.”
“Not looking for feather-thing,” she explained. “Looking at... other things.”
“What ‘things’?” he asked.
“Thing-things!” she repeated, as though it was self-explanatory. “Shapes in sky!”
He followed her gaze, chewing his lip in thought. “You mean the moon?”
“No, stupid!” she chided, throwing a pebble which plinked off his cuirass. “Moon boring! Things next to moon! Shiny, small things!”
“The… stars?” he tried, and this time she did not throw anything at him, returning her gaze back to the heavens.
“Stars…” she whispered. She repeated the word, then once more, as though it were an answer to a mind-boggling riddle. She brought a paw to her face, slowly sliding her goggles down her muzzle, exposing her eyes for the first time since they’d met. They were a striking shade of red, like a pair of murky rubies, with pupils twice the size of a human’s, dilating into big circles as she scrutinised the skies. He’d expected them to be bloodshot, beady, like her kin at the ambush, but it seemed even a lady of the Skaven could have delicate features.
“What are stars?” she demanded, her goggles resting over her cleavage as she turned to him. Her gaze was oddly intense, those black pupils ringed by a redness that almost seemed to glow in the muted darkness.
“Well, I’m no astrologist,” he began. “but from what I recall, stars are many things. Some are planets like ours, others are giant collections of air drifting aimlessly through the cosmos. Like that big one there, Isharnawe call it, it may look like a planet, but it’s really just a concentration of gasses in the shape of a marble. Think of it like one of those globes of warpstone poison that ratman threw at me earlier.”
“What are those shiny-things?” she continued, gesturing to a group of white spots. “Look like smalliest bits of warpstone.”
“That’s a star cluster. As for why they’re green… I’m not sure. It could be fragments of a dying star, or a bunch of little exploding planets, those tend to sparkle a lot when they reach the end of their life cycles.”
"Horrible man-thing!” she exclaimed. “Don’t say that about nice star-thing!”
“That’s just what I was taught,” he said, shrugging when she scowled up at him. “You’re quite fond of the heavens,” he noted. “Guess I ought to have known, considering your name and everything.”
“What?” she asked, one side of her brow raising.
“Your name, Skyseeker. Assume this is how you got it?”
“No-No, Skyseeker called Skyseeker for very different reason,” she said, not elaborating further. “When Great Lord gave mission to me, had not seen star-things before. Thought only warpstone could get so shiny…”
He had an insult ready about how she lived underground like a vermin, but he held his tongue. Something about her curiosity was endearing to him, her red eyes full of wonder as she gazed up in silence. The skies were a mundane sight to him, but the little Skaven seemed to find it fascinating, a trait he’d not thought possible in a knife-wielding rat-assassin.
“Some stars form constellations,” he said, moving over and sitting across from her. She tensed up at his approach, watching him like he was a stray dog that could strike at any moment, but she didn’t move away. “If you draw an imaginary line between them, they start to form pictures, images. Like that one there, see how it looks a little like a tooth?”
He pointed, Skyseeker frowning at the cluster of stars he indicated. “Not see any tooth,” she complained. “See only shiny stars.”
“Pretend there’s a line connecting them together, like a net,” he explained. “Start with that lowest one, then go up to the one on its right. Draw a line between. Now go up again, make another line. See how they’re starting to make a shape in your mind’s eye?”
“Mind does not have eye, only wrinkles!”
“I meant use your imagination, lass.”
She lifted a claw, following his instructions as she began to wave her finger through the air. He had to correct her a few times, but soon she managed to find the pattern, her eyes lighting up as raised her hand in triumph.
“I see it! Star-thing look like tooth-thing!”
“It’s actually part of an even bigger pattern,” he continued, the rat turning her wondrous eyes on him. “Start with the star just above the tooth, and draw it to the one on its left, see if you can tell me what it is.”
“I see… mouth! And… ears! Stars look like mouse!”
“A mouse?” he smirked, holding back a laugh. “That’s a wolf, Skyseeker. We call that constellation the Great Wolf.”
“The Great Wolf Mouse, much better name yes-yes! Another!”
“Well, see that cluster just above Isharna? What do you think that one is?”
“Hmm… whisker!”
“No, that’s a sword, or the Needle officially. What about that one?”
“Cheese wheel with a bite out of it!”
“Wha-? That’s a dragon’s maw!”
No matter how many constellations he pointed out, Skyseeker somehow managed to make all of them relate to either a rat body part, food, or a piece of warpstone. Any attempt to give her the correct names of the formations was met with baffling looks. Despite their arguments over the constellations, she had him point out as many as he could remember, Roderick only aware of the passing of time when he noted the moon had sailed halfway across the roof of the sky.
“Well, I think that’s enough stargazing for one night. Time we should get some rest,” he announced, shuffling back toward the fire. As if to prove his point, Skyseeker yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “But in turns this time,” he added before she could doze off. “Now that we know these hills are a warzone, it would be wise for one of us to keep watch.”
“No need!” Skyseeker chimed. “My hearing is infallible! Spent many nights in Skavenblight learning to listen with sleeping ears!”
“Sleeping ears?” he repeated.
“Yes! Every rat-thing knows sleeping is most weakest timeframe! Took much time and patience, but learned to stay awake while asleep. Sleeping ears. Nothing can skitter up on me. Eeek! What was that!”
“It was just an owl, you fool,” he chided. “Suddenly I’m not so sure about letting you take first watch.”
“Owl?” she said, looking up to see the creature perched in a branch nearby, peering back at the Skaven with its giant unblinking eyes. She poked her tongue out in disgust, the owl flying away when she tossed a rock at it. “Not fair, feather-thing wasn’t using legs!”
“Since you’re a master assassin and all that, I’ll take your word for it,” Roderick relented, resting his head on his pack. “Just make sure you wake me when the moon reaches that point in the sky. And try not to stargaze.”