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Sinner’s Road was one of the most aptly named places in Pharloom, Hornet thought miserably. Foul smelling and overall dreadful, Hornet could not help but loathe the wretched place.
It wasn’t her first time there, as she had stumbled upon the land whilst exploring Greymoor. She was merely returning on a small mission of her own, to rescue the odd green bug kept in their lonesome cell. She could not help but pity them, and she believed the key to their freedom was trapped somewhere in the same lands they were hostage to.
So she flitted about the place, slaying the Haunted bugs and avoiding the peculiar pouncing creatures that littered the floor.
And the vile waters of the place… Hornet was yet to fall into them, thank Gods, but she could feel her strength waning as she tirelessly explored the swampland, taking hits from stray creatures that caught her off guard.
She tried exercising caution as she leapt over the sickly chartreuse water, but the bottom of her foot dipped into the surface, and instantly at least 5 maggots began scurrying up her leg. They were shook off with relative ease, but Hornet shuddered to think about being submerged in such a substance.
Even that encounter left her just a bit weaker, and the warrior limped to a small tucked away corner, safe from scurrying critters.
Hornet breathed. It was astonishing just how tired she had grown, searching for a key to free an inmate she did not know. She leaned back and sighed, eager for a moment of respite.
That was, until she felt several shapes begin scurrying up her legs and into her shell. She was too tired to realize initially, but her eyes snapped open and she arose quicker than a freed flea.
Horror filled her insides like venom when she saw little white maggots crawling up her, onto her cloak and her arms and legs. How did they get to her? She was safe, she was—
Hornet realized the ‘sturdy platform’ she took rest upon was, in fact, slowly sinking into the water. She didn’t even notice.
Hornet needed to move, and fast. She dashed off the platform and started back towards Greymoor. Yes, a proper place of rest was available to her sooner, but she would rather be gone from the wretched place altogether.
Maggots wormed between the scales of her shell. She shuddered and tried pressing onwards, but a wave of nausea knocked Hornet to her knees.
Gods, sickness like this had never affected her. Vile and crawling and terrible, so terrible. She whined like a frightened child.
Hornet tried stepping up on a knee, but it wobbled and gave out to the hard cobblestone below her. She wanted to sob.
Unable to stand, Hornet took to a slow, painful crawl. She was getting woozy.
A pair of feet stepped in front of her face. She groaned at the vibration, it rang through her skull. Was it another bug taken by the haunting, another one ready to deliver a fatal blow to her, leaving her decaying on the ground for the maggots?
She weakly tried to swing her needle at the figure, but she lost grip of it and the weapon clattered out of her hands, several feet out of reach.
This must be it, she thought. She barely noticed the sweet-toned voice that questioned her. She felt her eyes close. Her limp body was picked up like a ragdoll, carried by something strong and warm.
It could have been centuries or seconds before the figure found a resting place. Hornet heard a pattering of raindrops on the surface of a tarp. Greymoor.
She was stripped of her cloak and laid on the pillowed ground, head propped up. Shuffling sounds, more speaking but she could not tell from where.
Finally, the mysterious rescuer took their gentle claw and tried to open Hornet’s mouth. It was never needed for speaking, only the occasional meal, so her jaw creaked open and revealed sharp, jagged teeth. One final line of defense, rendered useless by her obedience to this mystery figure.
The figure tipped a vial against her mouth and coaxed a warm, sweet liquid down her throat. Hornet swallowed. It was like nectar.
The nausea was drained out of her, as were the maggots. She felt little bodies flee from the interior of her shell. Gods, she felt so much better.
Hornet’s sickness had slowly left her, though her woozy state would stay with her still. Her eyes cracked open and a gold-plated figure came into view. Of course.
“Shakra…” Hornet mumbled. The bug was preoccupied with mixing another elixir, but she smiled amusedly upon hearing her name.
“So the warrior awakens,” Shakra mused. It was not spoken with malice, rather a tease, though her voice was laced with poorly hidden concern.
Hornet watched as Shakra poured a shimmering blue liquid into a warm yellow vial, and again held it to Hornet’s mouth.
“One more, young one,” she said so softly, so very softly. Hornet had no choice but to open her maw once more to allow the liquid entry. It was less sweet this time.
“Good,” Shakra’s voice rumbled, looking down at her with kind eyes. Hornet’s insides fluttered.
“I… w-why…” Hornet mumbled. What had even happened? The nightmare of Sinner’s Road seemed distant, though she knew it must have occurred less than an hour ago.
“Well, you seemed in hardly a state to carry yourself forwards, Red Lady,” Shakra said kindly. “I could not bear to watch you die out there.”
Hornet shivered. Was it getting colder?
“Mngh… my.. my d’deepest g’gratitudes… repay…” Hornet slurred. She had started to shiver, despite the layer of fur covering her shell.
Shakra’s brow creased. Hornet could almost see the cogs in her head turning. Hornet envied her.
Being the child of a pale being and a weaver, she hardly grew ill, instead watching her peers suffer and die at the claws of disease. She herself was entirely alien to the experience, she knew not the intricacies of illness.
Shakra must have realized this, to an extent, as she gently explained to Hornet the situation.
“You’re cold, young one, and I happen to be out of blankets. Your cloak is still drying from the sickly waters of Sinner’s Road,” she said, clearly trying to formulate a plan herself. Hornet’s remaining brainpower could understand this.
No heat source for her. Left to freeze. How sad. Hornet whined, searching on her own for a source of warmth, of life.
Her eyes caught Shakra’s hand on her shoulder. She longed for more.
Hornet sat, ignoring her sore limbs, and moved towards Shakra, much to latter’s surprise.
“Hornet? What are you-“
Hornet crawled into Shakra’s lap, as the warrior sat criss-crossed. Hornet curled up, body adapting to the new warmth around her, and sighed contentedly.
Shakra was still as a statue for a couple long moments. The heat seemed to get more intense, Hornet realized pleasantly.
Shakra’s voice was strained. “I— d’does this, ah, help? The cold?” she asked.
Hornet nodded against the bug’s leg and curled up further. She wished she could do this every day, forever.
Hornet lay for a moment, listening to the soft rain on the tarp above her head, when a claw reached and slowly stroked her back. Hornet shivered pleasantly.
She leaned into it like she was starving. A soft rumble echoed from her chest, a purr. It had been so long since that happened.
“My, little one. You’re just full of surprises,” Shakra whispered, adoration evident in her voice. She stroked a hand down Hornet’s fluffy back once more, resulting in more purring.
Shakra took the opportunity to place her other claw on the side of Hornet’s face, ever so gently. Hornet leaned into it gladly.
She was perhaps dead and in heaven. There is no other explanation for it. Because there is not an inkling of a chance that Hornet, the strong, capable warrior, was laying in another bug’s lap, purring and warm and happier than she had been in years.
Something about true colors, love perhaps? Hornet didn’t want to think too hard about it, lest the moment slips away like all the ones in her past.
Hornet whined as Shakra’s claw left her back, but it was soon placed opposite the other one on her cheeks. Hornet’s head was being cradled by Shakra’s competent hands, she could not possibly feel safer than she did right now.
Her eyes cracked open and she was greeted by Shakra’s face inches from hers. Hornet’s whole body grew warmer.
Shakra looked pleadingly at her, as if asking permission. Hornet hinted a nod. Shakra pressed her face to Hornet’s in a nuzzle not unlike a kiss. She purred louder still.
Shakra‘s face moved away from the small bug, eyes shining in a way Hornet had never seen, though she longed for it to be the only thing she saw.
A muffled thumping sound echoed from the periphery of Hornet’s hearing. The slight metallic clanking confirmed it was Shakra’s gold-plated tail, wagging and slapping on the ground.
That’s adorable, Hornet thought. Shakra didn’t appear to notice the disturbance.
More strokes of the fur on Hornet’s back, her weary limbs and abdomen. Hornet’s eyes fluttered, growing tired.
This moment was the only one that mattered, Hornet decided. Her actions mattered not, her path in this foreign land was not her responsibility any more. Her only concern was right here.
“Oh, young one,” Shakra murmured, voice soft like silk. “What am I going to do with you?”
Hornet did not much care what was done with her, she thought, drifting off to sleep. As long as she was with Shakra, she would be content.
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