To the Valley of Arrows
Arallets found herself-daydreaming in the afternoon sun, still high in the branches of a great tree, overlooking the terrain below, slightly opened eyed; curious she was to insure there were no beasts about. She had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and had just awoken but a few minutes ago, awoken to find herself on Tangor’s shoulder, half asleep, when she found herself in this position, she quickly turned away from him, moved backwards, she liked his muscular shoulder but she was still offended from before, his remark. Perhaps she was not good enough for him, was a thought in her mind, a thought, she thought might be circulating in his mind also.
She had had six hours sleep, days were long here, 72-hours to a day, and six hours to a night, total 72-hours. Sleep that was much needed.
Tangor knew Moirommalit’s were well known for their flat facial affects, there hardness of heart, and unemoitonalness, but she was not of that type, she must have had an ounce of her father’s blood in her. He was thinking it was King Ahta’s blood, but of course he did not know.
At this stage of his journey, Tangor simply wanted to get as far away as he could from the rats, and hopefully back to his ship before the vipers destroyed it.
Tangor, said to Arallets, with an explicit tone to his voice: “I’m very hungry for real food, protean, not all this papaya crap, I got it up to my nose, how about some of that Lomo Saltado, I had once in Peru, on earth, good rice with potatoes, and onions, and big hunks of soft choice beef.”
Arallets, knew Tangor had a good sense of direction, his instincts were excellent, he had traveled the universe over, and now her sassiness, or better put, over sense of worth in a world that cared less for her, was diminishing, and she appreciated Him. Just like arriving at the edge of the woods, Tangor knew if they continued going eastward they would eventually be at the woods end. As now they had arrived, and it was morning, Arallets saw Tangor looking about, for the umpteenth time, and then he said, “Let go!”
In The Valley of Arrows
It was a considerable distance they had gone, perhaps a few hundred miles if not more in the tree world; now standing on solid ground felt good to both of them.
There was a valley in front of them, evidently they had gone quite far to the east and then shifted somehow west, for according to the map, it was the plains in front of them. And Tangor remembered in the plains was the Valley of Arrows Siren had told him about it. Now he got deliberating where or which way he was to go from here. If he went straight north, he’d be in the Bear Country, if he went northwest, he’d be in King Ahta’s domain; if he went northeast, he’d be in the heart of the Manticore valleys and rocky plains: matter-of-fact, they were closer at this point to that area than any other area. Should they go west, they’d circle around the woods and end up by the mound area again, where the Viper’s Fortress was, where they started from, and beyond that Viper Country, where his spaceship was, but circling around involved sticking close to the woods, and that was loaded with searching rats for them at the moment. His decision to be made had a lot of variables to it.
How he missed his ship! Ever since he was a kid he wanted to be a space traveler, adventurer, and have his own ship, and now he had one, had it for a very long time also, and here he was stuck on this savage and primitive planet, which his ship in the possession of some mad vipers, were ready to destroy it.
They walked a ways, collecting their thoughts, and found themselves–like it or not–in the Valley of Arrows, part of the central plains of the Planet, where it seemed every other section of the planet connect to or from–in one way or another. That is to say, if one wanted to get to another areas of the planet, they normally would have to cross this land, or perhaps go through the dark part of the planet, and that would not be prudent, for no one had–yet.
It was to Tangor, a mysterious planet, just as Siren had told him it would be, had he ever a notion to visit it. An unnatural planet to say the least, where the beasts had reason, and vocabulary, and red crystal eyes, and walked light on the ground, and was controlled somehow, by it sections. Meaning, the rats, vipers, bears, Manticore, and so forth, all stayed in their birth regions, which seemed to be the only real habitual place for them–in the long run. It was once challenged by the Mantic ore’s, to live in the Mound area with Siren the Great, only to find out, the air, or whatever it was, made them ill to the point of death, and quickly had to move back to their abode in the northeast region of the planet. And once the bears were chasing Siren, but would not leave their mesas, and thus, Siren escaped. Should they have I wonder what, but they of course did not, would not, dare not to.
“We shall stop here,” said Tangor.