With these thoughts buzzing through his mind, it surprised Collins how swiftly he found sleep.
Chapter 6
BENTON Collins awakened to a sweet but unrecognizable 'aroma that sent his stomach into a ferocious growl. It reminded him of his mother's freshly baked cinnamon rolls, yet was different in a way he could not quite define. He opened his eyes to a subdued fire surrounding a crock blackened by charcoal, Ialin and Falima spoke in hushed tones, their shadows flickering through the brush at their backs. The sun had not yet penetrated the dense cover of leaves and branches. The two chatted like old friends. Though Collins could not understand a word of it, he noticed that neither wore the tense expression of hostile distrust that had become so familiar to him.
The dog rolled its head to look at Collins. It wagged its tail in greeting, tip stirring the leaves. Ialin and Falima took no notice, so Collins continued to study them in the scarlet-and-amber strobe of the fire. Her golden skin looked beautifully exotic. She had braided her mane of black hair away from her face, though a few strands lay damply against her cheeks. Apparently, she had washed and combed it out earlier that morning. Though lost beneath an overlarge cloak, the curves of her naked body remained vividly in Collins' memory. His mind's eyes conjured the generous breasts, the fine curves, and the well-toned body with an ease that made him flush. He felt himself responding to the image, which abruptly heightened his embarrassment. He tried to quell desire by turning his attention to his other companion.
Ialin rose and walked to the fire, movements odd though never awkward. The words that came to Collins' mind in description: flitty, quick, birdlike fit best, though he found none of them quite adequate. The man reminded him most of Jean, who had become a dependable, almost supernaturally daring, friend over the years. Though small to the point of scrawny, she never hesitated to face off with the largest man. They had once stopped to examine a snake on the road. None of the men in the car would touch it, but Jean had picked it up without a second thought. And, upon discovering that she held a rattlesnake, she had attempted to keep it for a pet. On two occasions, he had watched women leaving a public restroom that Jean had just entered whispering angrily about the man who had dared to walk boldly into their haven.
There was something equally androgynous about the hummingbird/man, and Collins wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that bird gender was difficult to read at a glance. Or is it? When he thought about it more carefully, he realized that in many species of birds, like peacocks, blue jays, and chickens, the male and female looked phenomenally different, far more so than, say, horses. Or rats.
Collins shook his head, tired of trying to find rhyme and reason in a world that either had none or, at least, none that he could logically and rationally fathom without the assistance of those who lived it daily. At that moment, he found Ialin returning his gaze with steady yellow-brown eyes. The man said something to Falima, and she looked at Collins as well. For a while, they all simply stared, saying nothing. Finally, Falima's face broke into a cautious, weary half-smile. "Good, you are awake. Come join us."
Collins gave back a genuine grin, glad Falima had actually welcomed him, though it hardly mattered. Soon enough, he would return to his own world and these people would fade into the blurred uncertainty between reality and dream. He had read enough fantasy as a child to know that others, and maybe eventually he, would dismiss whatever adventures he had in this world as the product of distraught imagination. Assuming I make it out of here alive. He stood, rearranging his jeans to cover his dwindling excitement. He could taste his morning breath but could think of no way to remedy the problem. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging wilted petals, twigs, and curled leaves. His appearance and hygiene, he knew, should not bother him; but it did. At least I probably look better without my glasses. He squinted, surprised at how easily he found himself getting along without them. He could see better than he remembered, and it sent his mind into another round of unusual thought. Do I not need them as much as I believe? Am I simply getting used to not having them? Or is it just another part of the magic of Barakhai?
Using a stick, Ialin eased the crock from the fire.
The dog rolled to its feet, yawned, and stretched. Its tongue uncurled, and the mouth spread wide to reveal rows of surprisingly blunt teeth. Then, finished, it followed Collins to his companions near the fire.
Falima glanced upward, though interwoven branches blocked the sky. "I was about to wake you. I wanted you up before my switch."
"Your switch?" Collins rolled a panic-stricken gaze to Ialin. Please. Don't leave me alone with… him. He did not voice the concern. He had grown accustomed to Falima's animosity, had even managed to crack it somewhat. The idea of spending time with only Ialin chilled him, colored by his experiences with Jean. He liked Jean, but she also liked him. With Ialin, he could imagine that rattlesnake "accidentally" winding up in his bed. The analogy did not carry well, since any snake here would also be human and, presumably, barred by law and convention from harming others.
"It is coming soon." Falima used an edge of her cloak to ease the crock toward her. Ialin said something to which Falima replied. This time, she deigned to translate. "He wants me to wait until it cools. But I do not get gahiri often and do not eat it in switch-form."
"Gahiri?" Collins repeated, surprised to hear a Barakhain word during an English rendition. She had never mixed the two before. Then, he realized the word probably had no equivalent in his language.
Using a stick, Falima ladled a gloppy brown mixture onto a leaf as dark as spinach. It steamed in her hand as she offered it to Collins.
Collins hesitated. Then, worried it might burn her palm if she held it too long, he accepted it. It warmed his grip, its aroma a cross between pecan and currant pie, with a bit of baking potato.
Without seeing if Collins ate it, Falima made similar packets for Ialin and herself. They ate them like tacos, one hand folding the contents together, the other perched below to catch any runoff. He took a delicate bite of just the filling. It burned his tongue, and it took an effort of will not to spit it out. Instead, he swirled it around his mouth, never letting it settle in one place long enough to singe until it grew cool enough to swallow without hurting his throat. Only then, he allowed himself to assess the flavor, sweetly spicy with a subtle crunch he hoped had nothing to do with insects. It tasted sinfully good, like doughnuts for breakfast. He blew on it carefully before daring another bite. This time, he took a chunk of leaf along with the filling; and, to his surprise, it only enhanced the flavor. "Delicious," he said around a heated mouthful.
"The best," Falima agreed. "Most of the ingredients are quite common, but you have to get the vilegro seed at the right time.
When you can even find it. It is valuable, too, so we can sell what we do not eat. A worthy find, Ialin had. That is the advantage of a small flying switch-form with a good sense for finding sweet things."
Falima's description sparked an idea. "Perhaps," Collins started thoughtfully. "Perhaps Ialin could distract the guards, fly around their…"
Before Collins could stop her, Falima translated. Ialin's reply was accompanied by a spark of anger.
Falima laughed. "Ialin suggests we distract you instead so the guards can catch you easier."
Collins brows rose, and the look he gave Falima was similar to Ialin's own.
All mirth disappeared. "He was only kidding," she said defensively. She and Ialin feigned sudden, inordinate interest in their gahiri.