There was good and bad news on that front. The good news was that Ana knew of a different nest of keelish. The bad news was that it was outside of the bounds of the territory she knew anything about. Thus, my plans for immediate bolstering of my troops were set aside for now.

The next days were more relaxed (with one exception) than I would have begun to expect possible when traveling with a large group of people who were, self-admittedly, our enemies. We had fought violently and without restraint, the swarm had killed two of their number, and… every one of the Moonchildren (a group of which was called a kamory, or pool of blood in their language, according to them) was happy and willing to try to communicate with the swarm. I was surprised to see the Moonchildren themselves attempt to initiate conversations, and asked once why they would do so. The response varied little from one individual to the next: “You are fahvalo. Sometimes that means that blood is spilt, and sometimes that means that conversations should be had.”

Regardless of any individual desires for communication, it was far from simple for anybody involved since no keelish except myself spoke any amount of the common tongue. I have never considered myself a teacher, and as I tried to teach the common tongue to my swarm, there was limited effect. Unsurprisingly, Isnanna was the quickest to pick it up, closely followed by Alaster, Sybil, Ishtar, and Shemira in that order. Iituli tried to hide his frustration at his own inability, but could often be heard angrily muttering random words in the common tongue when he thought nobody could hear.

While the rest of the swarm struggled with their language lessons, I found myself cursing under my own breath at night as I tried to continue developing myself towards the evolution of [Improved Vision]. Of course, the Moonchildren lived up to their names and preferred to do the bulk of their travel at night, just as Ana had told me the day we had begun our journey, and I stumbled, careened, wobbled, and fell a dozen times a night as I stubbornly continued using exclusively my limited, very ordinary vision. That was the origin and the cause for the single exception for our relaxed journey eastward.

The first night of this Ana had approached me, her face completely unseeable for me in the darkness, but her tone confused and bemused. “Why are you so clumsy?”

“Because I cannot see, Ana. That’s why.”

“And why do you not use your ability to see much more clearly in the darkness?”

“To improve my vision.” I didn’t see any reason to expand on it, and my mood continued to sour, but Ana didn’t care as she laughed, or, more correctly, giggled. Like a little girl. At my expense. I found myself gritting my teeth hard enough that I velt them begin to creak as she gained enough control over herself to finally respond.

“To improve your vision… you cripple your ability to see?”

I couldn’t bring myself to verbally respond and simply nodded.

“I must be getting old, since that makes no sense to me.”

I sighed. “I have an innate understanding of myself. I know what things I must do to improve myself, and I do them. This will improve my eyesight.”

Immediately, Ana’s laughs ceased and she stood, unmoving, directly in front of me. I wasn’t paying enough attention and stumbled into her. Before I could ask what in the kreerlk she was doing, she bowed, low, and spoke softly.

“I apologize. I did not realize that you were walking under the inspiration of the Gods. I insist you extract a blood-price from me.”

I came closer to falling in surprise to her obviously sincere words than I had from running into her. “Um… I don’t follow.”

Ana stayed bowed, submissive before me, and Sybil hissed, “The rest of them are approaching. Careful.”

Ana spoke, head still bowed, as I barely noted a couple crackling branches around me. “You are operating under inspiration, and I mocked your efforts. Narsha’at demands that my blood be spilled in recompense for my impertinence and disrespect.”

There were some worried tones from the Moonchildren around me, surprisingly close, no more than 5m away, but at her words, they all seemed to accept whatever it was that was going to happen.

“I… do not wish to slay you, but neither do I wish to disrespect you and your people. What does tradition ask that I do?”

“Spill my blood. If I deem it to be insufficient, I will enact a second, worthy wound upon myself, which will claim my life.” As she spoke, Ana stood tall and crossed her curved, bladed fifth fingers over her neck. I had no doubt that she could and, apparently, would decapitate herself if she deemed the blood-price extracted insufficient.

My mind raced as I tried to figure out what to do. I couldn’t have her die here–I couldn’t guarantee that I would retain my fahvalo status if she died, and, beside that, I liked her as a person. After a heavy moment’s silence, I spoke.

“Your sins were three, thus I give you three cuts: First, your tongue.” Ana extended her tongue at my words. It was longer than a person’s or even a keelish’s, coming out nearly 5cm. I extended a claw and quickly sliced the tip of the tongue off. Ana’s blood began to flow out of her still extended tongue and onto the ground as I continued, “You spoke impertinently and hastily, so I offer the flesh and blood of your offending tongue to the gods.

“The second: your knee.” I slashed three claws across the thin skin of Ana’s left knee and cut the flesh shallowly, but still to the bone just below the surface. Again, the blood began to course out of Ana’s body, and she didn’t make a single sound of protest. “You forgot that the gods are above you, to stand in the way of their blessing, so I offer the blood of your knee, forever bowed before them.” Ana knelt as I continued.

“Finally: your head.” There were muted words of anger in the forest, and I hoped I knew what I was doing as I ran one, long, sharp claw down the entirety of Ana’s lupine face, from her hairline down to just above her nose. This cut was shallow and deliberate, but it immediately began bleeding profusely like all facial bleeding does. “Your final sin was undervaluing your own worth to the gods: You are a Bloodpriestess, and your life is of more value than to pay for a simple slight made from ignorance of the actions of a fahvalo. I am one you are meant to learn from, so I invite you to learn, and to continue on your path.”

Ana bowed her head, tongue still extended, and the blood from her face, tongue, and knee dripping together into a crimson slurry at my feet. After a painfully long but objectively short minute, Ana raised her face and stood before me.

“Thank you, Fahvalo Ashlani Indraymaf. You have helped me on my way.”

I remembered her words from earlier. “I have only done what is honorable. No thanks necessary.”

Ana chuckled lightly. “You speak well. Let us continue our journey.”

Ten days later, we found ourselves about to enter the capital of the Wilds: Dunbach.