The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Alright, who wants rabbit?”

Kez really did start out earnest. She’d asked the question so that the other two could eat and, hopefully, so that the silence that had bound the trio for an entire day could suddenly be banished. An entire day! Kez didn’t think she’d gone a whole day without speaking in her entire life. Maybe when she was a baby. But she was told she was a very loud child, so, probably never.

Well, except for today. Which really didn’t make sense to her. Only the day before, her mothers had been telling Kez how wonderful it was going to be: leaving her family, meeting her skeinmates, setting out on the Trial, beginning her new life as a woman fully grown, and with two perfect companions to share in it with. She’d taken stock several times already, so why not do it again? She’d left her family, all her parents, all her worldly possessions save for a sack, her bow, and the clothes on her back. What did she have to show for it?

A cold winter night. A drafty tent. A rock strapped around her neck. Two companions who hadn’t bothered to greet her, hadn’t bothered to introduce themselves, hadn’t bothered to do anything but walk and walk and walk and take two fucking hours to set up their ends of the tent while she froze her ass off trying to get a fire going because some brilliant ancestor of hers had had the idea to only hand out the sparking stones to warriors and their warrior had taken her sweet fucking time mounting their poles because of ceremony or whatever she’d spent all that time thinking about. Not talking. Because apparently that would be ridiculous.

At least Kez had rabbit. That, at least, was something. Three rabbits, in fact. She’d nocked three arrows, made three clean shots, skinned three fat rabbits, and roasted said fat rabbits over the fire that’d started up just fine, once the warrior had actually done it. Because that was what a huntress was there to do. Track. Hunt. Skin. Cook. Feed the other two who couldn’t feed themselves. And that was what she did. If they would just fucking eat the rabbit.

Kez really did start out earnest.

But she was losing her patience.

“Who wants rabbit?” Kez said again, more of a demand into the oppressive silence, trying to stir something, anything to life in reply.

The wood on the fire cracked. Chill wind beat against their tent’s hide walls. And nobody said a fucking thing. Unless you could count the warrior dragging the sharpening stone along her polearm’s blade, making it squeal, like she had been for the past hour. But Kez wasn’t feeling that charitable.

“Hey,” she called, and swiveled away from the gleaming blade to where the seer was sat: right by the tent’s entrance flap, peeking out of it, her eyes surely scanning the sky. They had been all day. The smaller woman had hair a shade brighter than the warrior’s, which was to say, that it was just a dark dark dark brown instead of pitch black. Both had their braids in. Kez had hers done too, long and heavy and ruddy like the embers of a dying fire.

The braids were supposed to symbolize the skein, three different strands all twisted and bunched up together to make a better, stronger, more beautiful whole. The braiding ceremony that morning, before dawn, had been the very first time she’d seen these two strangers that she’d be spending the rest of her life with, should they pass the Trial without killing each other or without demonstrating a fundamental inability to not kill each other. Her mothers and fathers had been there, all with their own braids prominently on display, the other girls’ too, and they’d said the old words, tied the rocks around each of their necks, and sent the new skein off into the wilderness before the sun rose. They were all women now.

Kez had been assured that her braid was beautiful. Mostly it itched.

“Hey.” She said it again, more insistently, and almost started to stand—then she froze. The stone’s whine had stopped. Kez looked, and the black-haired, thick-bodied warrior had set the pole of her long weapon flat in her lap, and she was looking forward. Not at Kez, but an improvement was an improvement. The huntress bit her lip, as the warrior leaned forward, extending a hand, large, to pluck one of the three pointed wooden spits that held three fully-cooked rabbits. The warrior lifted the spit with both hands, pulled it back, and held it over her legs, staring down critically at the roasted flesh.

“It’s good,” Kez decided to say, and the warrior looked up. Her bright green eyes were utterly at odds with the sternness of her features and the darkness of her braid, slung over the front of her shoulder. On any other face, the green might’ve looked compassionate, curious, or playful. On the warrior’s face, it looked downright scary.

She didn’t respond to the assurance, only looked down and, with a finger and thumb, pried off one of the rabbit’s legs. She raised it to her face. Sniffed it. Touched it with her tongue. And finally, took a small bite from it, chewing thoughtfully. And swallowing thoughtfully.

“Well?” Kez was on the edge of both panic and excitement at once.

The warrior looked up.

“Is it good?” she pressed.

The warrior shrugged. “It is rabbit.”

“Obviously it’s rabbit, but—” Kez froze again. “You can talk.”

The warrior had another bite.

“You can talk,” Kez repeated.

The warrior swallowed again. “You do not stop.”

“Why didn’t you say anything all day?!”

The warrior bit, chewed, and swallowed. “Why didn’t you?”

Kez was simultaneously maddened and elated, and so she just stared, dumbfounded, while the warrior made quick work of the first leg, then moved on to the next. Finally, giving another look to the motionless seer at the edge of the tent, Kez grabbed one of the rabbits for herself, tradition be damned.

“You have a name?” she asked the warrior, while chewing her first bite.

The other woman waited until she’d finished her second leg. “Tel.”

Kez grinned. “Never met a Tel before.”

Tel said nothing.

The huntress swallowed, and ripped off another bite, talking with her mouth full. “Tel. Is it short for something?”

The warrior glanced up. “Short for Tel.”

Fine, Kez grumbled inwardly, be that way. She finished her leg and looked to the seer again. “Hey. You. Rabbit’s cooking. You know what a rabbit is, right?” she chuckled.

“Don’t,” the warrior, Tel, spoke up, holding the roasted, still-hot animal in her bare hands.

“Don’t what?” Kez rounded quickly. “We’re a skein now. I’m the huntress. That means everyone has to eat this rabbit, not just us.” Kez pointed a thumb to the seer. “If she won’t eat, we shouldn’t be eating.”

“She will eat,” Tel said.

“Sure hasn’t yet. Think she even has a stomach?”

“Don’t.” She heard the sternness in the warrior’s voice with this repetition, and something like anger being contained.

Kez smirked in her direction. “Why shouldn’t I? If we don’t eat, we starve. Everybody eats together, that’s how the skein works. If the food’s poisoned, that way we all die together. And nobody has to lug any corpses.”

Tel’s stare had changed into a glare, her dark brows pointed downward just above those fearsome green eyes, glinting in the light. She was probably mad that she’d be the one carrying the corpses. Typical warriors.

“So what,” the huntress swiveled and crossed her legs, “the moment we finally start talking, finally start communicating like we’re supposed to, you get mad?”

“Yes.”

Kez rolled her eyes. “Then you can see why I’m trying to talk to someone besides you.”

“Do you think she wants to talk?” The huntress was a bit shocked, this was the most words she’d yet heard Tel utter in a coherent string. And in other circumstances, it may have gotten Kez to back down, really. But now she was riled.

“I don’t know, let me ask—hey, seer, do you—” Her grin, and words, were cut short by a flash of light from the warrior’s weapon, Tel’s grip so tight on the long haft that her knuckles were going white. Kez swallowed, perturbed. Thought it wise to take a few more moments with rabbit in her mouth, rather than speaking. Eventually, Tel’s hand eased off, and the huntress relaxed some. “Maybe she’d rather talk about seer-things,” Kez said, somewhat quieter.

Tel’s glare softened, and her eyebrow rose a hair. The green eyes looked a bit more fitting. “How would you know of those?” she asked.

Kez’s lips suppressed a grin that was a bit too wide. “My seer-father taught me a few things...”

The warrior’s stare was fixed in place. “That is against tradition,” she said.

“Yeah, well, so’s refusing to eat with your skein,” Kez called in the seer’s direction, but once again, she barely moved a muscle. Kez might’ve thought she’d frozen to death, but for the slight rise and fall of her shoulders. “And anyway,” she said, turning back to face Tel’s hard look, “it’s not like I learned much, or like I could learn much.” She spread her hands apart and gave her fingers a wiggling. “No magic. Not like her.”

Tel was not impressed. “So you have violated our people’s traditions, so that you could learn nothing.”

“I didn’t say nothing,” Kez sneered, then she set her rabbit between her legs, while she shifted uncomfortably on the hard, still-cold ground. The seer’d used some kind of magic to clear the spot, shoved all the snow and debris away, so they could set up the tent. But it was only when they were past halfway through that Kez had realized they’d just pushed the snow away, rather than packing it around the base to keep out any wind. And by then, night was falling, and there was no time to start over. If either of them had bothered talking, they might not be in such a situation. But now it was windy, and cold, and so she was right up next to the fire, all three of them stuck in their trousers and furs.

The huntress pulled her jacket tighter, then gave a few tugs to the cord around her neck, yanking out the small rock held to it with a loop. It was brown. Jagged, but mostly round, and somewhat flat. Looking over, she saw that Tel’s looked nearly the same, just rounder and... Jaggeder. “He told me these things are magic,” Kez said.

Tel, for her part, did seem curious, if cautious. She took a glance at her own stone, then over at Kez’s.

“That’s why she got the biggest one,” the huntress went on, jutting an elbow toward the seer. “She’s magic. We’re not. Don’t know why she doesn’t just take all three of them.”

The warrior shrugged across from her. “Every skein has stones like these.”

“But if they’re magic, how come we get them at all?”

Tel shrugged again. “Tradition?” she offered.

“Yeah, tradition.” Kez scoffed. “Same tradition that says we all have to eat at once.” She threw a sneer again at the seer’s unresponsive back, then, her hands started pulling the cord with the rock off her neck. “Damn thing was messing with my shots earlier, you ever try shooting with a—”

“Stop.” A different voice. A new one. The huntress’ hands froze mid-motion, the loop halfway up the back of her head. She looked to her side, and the seer had turned to face them. Hazel eyes, one step between the warrior’s greens and Kez’s own browns. She looked near-terrified. “Please.”

Kez faltered, and released the cord, but she quickly recovered, smoothing her shocked expression into a grin. “I was wondering what it’d take to wake you up. Been asleep over there?”

The seer said nothing, and a gust of wind blew the flap behind her closed. She looked relieved, but tensed as soon as Kez started to rub the stone around her neck, while she was eyeing the seer’s larger one.

“Talking to the ancestors? Havin’ a dream or two? Find out where we’re going yet?”

“Quiet.” The warrior had spoken up, and had somehow devoured her entire rabbit while Kez wasn’t looking.

“What,” the huntress grumbled, “something wrong with just asking? We supposed to follow her around blindly?”

“Yes,” Tel said, “we are.”

Kez stared her down until the intensity behind those green eyes made her blink, then, she sighed and lifted the last rabbit, tossing it over to the seer who fumbled the catch. She couldn’t help snickering as the smaller woman inched closer, her soft features taking in the dancing light from the fire. Tentatively, she brought the meat to her face and nibbled at it, looking much like a rabbit herself. Only instead of grazing on grass, she was grazing on a rabbit. Did rabbits ever eat other rabbits? The huntress’ line of thoughts wandered around hare cannibalism for a while. At least, until the seer spoke up again.

“It is good,” she said quietly, after swallowing another of her small bites. “Thank you, Kez.”

Her smirk turned to a contented grin as she nodded. “It’s nothing, really, I’ve been cooking up bunnies since I was four. I’m just glad that we can all...”

Kez blinked. The seer tilted her head to the side, curiously. “We can all...?” she prompted.

Kez blinked again, and her lips moved slowly. “... how did you know my name?”

The seer froze, and her cheeks went red. “I m-must have overheard you two,” she stuttered. On the other side of the fire, Tel was upright and alert, hands gripping the cloth wrappings of her weapon.

Kez shook her head slowly, looking sidelong at the warrior. “Tel, did you know what my name was until five seconds ago?”

“No,” she said cautiously, “you have spoken many words. That was not among them.”

Both of them turned their stares on the seer, who was trembling where she sat and fixing her eyes on the ground.

“Something you wanna tell us, seer?” the huntress asked impatiently.

“I...” She mumbled something that neither could hear.

“Speak up,” Tel said gruffly.

“I-I just knew it...”

“How?” Kez demanded, one of her hands reaching for the dagger at her waist. Tel was doing the same, except with a much bigger blade.

The seer shrank, and shrank, until, “I’ll tell you!”

The other two shared a glance, then looked on, as the third’s wringing hands slowly closed around her own, larger stone. Kez felt something. By the shift of Tel’s shoulders, she felt... whatever it was, too. Magic. The seer’s lips moved, then, and another strange wave passed through Kez’s body, and the rock in her hand felt strangely warm. When had she even started touching it?

She looked down, and was awestruck—on its flat face, shimmering and glowing with a strange, faint light, were boxy symbols, covering the whole span. She looked up to the seer, whose rock was glowing just the same, albeit with an even brighter light. The woman gulped, inched closer to Kez, and one of her shaking hands left the thing around her neck, and pointed a finger to the corner of the huntress’ stone, at the very first symbol in the long lines of them. “Kez,” she said softly.

Kez gulped, too. “These are...?”

The seer nodded. “Your names.” Sparing a short look, both turned their heads to Tel, who was looking with fascination on her own glowing mineral. All three gazed at Kez’s rock as the seer spoke, brushing her finger along the surface, and Kez realized that she wasn’t reciting some magic spell or ancient tongue. She was reciting her name. “Kez Mir Tak Bel Mir Pul Byk Sor...”

“Wait, wait,” the huntress stopped her, and again, the seer looked horrified. Kez tried to calm her expression, and her voice, like walking softly to keep a caribou from getting spooked. “Wait. Kez is my name, and... Mir is my huntress-mother’s, and Tak is my hunter-father’s...”

The seer just nodded.

“So all of these are...”

“Our ancestors,” Tel murmured.

Kez couldn’t even count how many of the strange shapes there were. She’d never seen anything like it in her life, except for some of the symbols that the sharp-ears from over the mountains would place on their trading goods, to mark them, but... these were different shapes. “There’s so many of them...” Her brow furrowed, and she looked to the seer again. “What does yours say? And, hang on. Why? Why are they even like this?”

“I shouldn’t tell you,” she whispered.

The huntress huffed in frustration. “Well, why not?”

“Tradition,” Tel grunted. A few more moments, and Kez sighed, relenting, and let go of her rock, as the warrior and seer did the same. Slowly, the glow of shapes faded, and they were once more just stones around necks.

The fire cracked. Wind gusted. The seer spoke, scared but firm. “Please. Never take them off. Not even after the Trial. No matter what happens.” She looked between both the huntress and warrior. “Can you promise that?”

Kez looked to Tel, who just shrugged. Both nodded.

The seer sighed, and her trembling ceased. She looked even smaller then, as if her body had folded in on itself, and she moved away from Kez, closer to the fire, picking up her dinner while she stared into the flames. One small hand twitched against her stone, which still managed a slight silver glow, if fading fast.

“Mine says Rys.”

As bad as the first day of the Trial was, the second was worse. The tent wasn’t cold enough to make Kez freeze to death, but it wasn’t warm enough to keep her rest from being fitful. She barely slept, and when she did, she’d awoken late, the sun already in the sky. Tel was up then. So was their seer, Rys. But neither of them had thought to, oh, fucking wake her so that they could move during what little daylight they’d have.

It’d taken an hour to disassemble the tent, and at that point, the sun was already approaching its apex for the day. They’d set out with aching backs and grumbling stomachs; at least, Kez had. Didn’t really bother asking the other two. She’d packed the remains of the last night’s rabbits in snow, to keep them preserved and good for the day’s journey. It tasted damp, and tough, and altogether unsatisfying.

And the journey? No vistas, no gorgeous sights, no world-shaking new truths to see. Just snow. Snow and trees and hills covered in snow. Oh, and rocks, couldn’t forget rocks.

Adding to their collective misery was the clothing situation. Kez had set out with socks, extra socks, boot-stockings, extra boot stockings, boots, trousers, inner and outer and spares (of course), the same number of shirts and her thick fur coat with its thick fur hood. She suspected the others had both packed similarly. And yet, with the drafts and the chills, none of them had changed overnight, and so the cold sweat had clung to their bodies while they’d all tried to sleep. It made for a worse night, and an even worse morning, but slipping rapidly into her new, warm clothes before setting out had felt amazing. Kez, at least, wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

The day’s only other reprieve from endless trudging through snow had come when she’d been able to run off on her own, to hunt something new so they could have a better meal that night. The animals, clearly, hadn’t been told of her arrival. Even so, she only managed to bag two rabbits, not nearly as fat as the first day’s three, and one unimpressive grouse. It’d have to do. They’d deal with it.

She caught up with the rest of the skein by a small stream. As she walked into the small clearing, Kez saw their seer kneeling on flat soil at the stream’s bank. Snow had been pushed, probably by the same magic as before, to make a circular spot of clean earth. Kez approached, then hesitated, but gladly handed over her waterskin when Rys asked for it. At least there’d been some talk that day, even if it was all snippy.

“You’re doing the cleansing rite?” the huntress asked, taking a step back from the ring of snow, as if crossing it might cause some magical calamity. She honestly thought that it might, given Rys’ frigidity so far.

The seer pursed her lips. Didn’t say anything.

Kez knew that she wasn’t really supposed to know what the cleansing rite was—even mentioning it out loud was a taboo. And so, Rys simply nodded, and turned to the waters. So Kez sort of stood around a while.

And then she got bored. Boredom was coming a lot more frequently. She wandered away and, eventually, with nowhere else to go and a burning need to do or say something, she went straight up to where Tel was stood, tall and straight, her long braid moving with the breeze and her polearm pointed straight up. Even counting only the shaft of it, it was as tall as the warrior, and taller by a head for Kez, while the blade on top was at least another foot long. Its edge curved upward, good for slashing, to a point, good for stabbing, with a hook on its back side. She didn’t want to know what the hook was good for.

Kez cleared her throat, stepping awkwardly to Tel’s side, both of them looking into the clearing where Rys was knelt over the river with their three waterskins, working the ritual with her magic. “So, uh...” she started, and glanced to Tel. The woman didn’t even blink. “You ever use a sword?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you have that... big... thing?”

Tel looked down at the huntress, from the corner of her eye. “Why do you think?”

“Killing, obviously.” Kez rolled her eyes. “What’s it even called?”

“This is not a weapon for killing.” The warrior’s face was as stony as her expression.

Kez chuckled. “Oh yeah? Why’s it so sharp then? You use it for chopping up trees?”

“No.”

The huntress crossed her arms. “You use it for stirring up stew?”

“No.”

“You use it for hacking off limbs.”

“Sometimes.”

Kez turned her head. “So it is for killing.”

Tel turned hers. “No. It is not.”

The two locked eyes. “So what is it for?”

“You want to find out?”

“That a threat?”

“No.” Tel breathed a laugh, a deep, throaty sound.

“What’s so funny?” One of Kez’s hands balled into a fist.

“You.” The warrior’s lips moved, into something resembling a disdaining smirk. “That you could think yourself a threat to me, it is laughable.” Said without any anger, she looked back toward the stream, and Kez was left staring, fuming.

“How come you get a tentpole too, huh?” She nudged her chin toward the long forked rod, strapped to the warrior’s back, a triplet for the one weighing down her own shoulders, and the one that was wobbling as the seer bent over the water’s edge ahead of them. “We could use that thing for shelter. Get more stable, maybe head off those winds, yeah?”

“This is not a tentpole.” Kez saw her grip tighten on the weapon’s red cloth, twisted around the wood shaft to make a grip.

The huntress took a step closer, sneering as the warrior stared unflinchingly ahead. “And why not?”

“You would have our walls shredded by my blade.”

“Maybe if you didn’t spend every waking hour sharpening that thing, it wouldn’t—”

Tel rounded on the huntress, pointing a gloved finger square at Kez’s face. “Do not.”

Kez took half a step back. “Hey, it’s just a—”

“Just a?”

“Just a joke,” Kez spat, taking her step back forward, ignoring the finger in her face.

“You make a mockery of me?”

Kez laughed. “Oh, Tel, you make a mockery of yourself well enough without me.”

“You may mock me,” Tel said severely, “you may make your jokes and you may make your judgements, but you will not make mockery of the warrior’s art.” Kez tried to interrupt, but Tel went on as soon as her lips got open. “You know nothing of what it means to be a warrior. You may think yourself knowledgeable. You may know of seers. You may know of magic. You may disregard and disrespect our ancestors, and you may flout our ancient traditions.”

The warrior lowered her finger, and put both hands on her weapon. She spoke evenly, lacking rage, the only emotion shown being that of a wall, holding back a storm. “You may do all of this. And I will fight for you even still, girl. But should you defame my purpose I will not protect you.”

Kez opened her mouth to speak, but again, she was cut off. Not by Tel. “What are you two doing?” Both the warrior and huntress whipped around to face Rys, who stood in the snow with her worried eyes, meek visage, and three filled waterskins.

Tel grunted, grabbed her waterskin, and tromped off upriver. Rys stared in shock, then looked at Kez. “What did you do?” the seer asked.

The huntress shrugged, and although it was a casual gesture, it was mixed with so much clear contempt on her face that the seer jumped back from it. Kez rolled her eyes, snatched her skin, and started tracking Tel by her footprints, leaving Rys to silently trudge behind.

They managed to get the tent set up within an hour that night. But once they had, it was freezing, and it was dark, and the fire took far too long to get warm. They packed the snow properly this time, Kez made sure of it. The base of the tent was insulated from the wind, and though Rys kept her habit of opening the flap to peer out into the cold night, it wasn’t that bad inside. Good enough for them to shed some layers and change out the sweaty ones while the meat cooked. Kez was sitting on her coat, somewhat cushioned from the hard soil. As soon as the fire had become warm enough, each of them had silently claimed a corner of the tent to face towards as they disrobed and redressed. She’d traded off her damp inner shirt and trousers for warm ones, and ditched the old socks to dry over the fire, along with her outer clothes, and was giving some serious thought to going fully barefoot as well, but...

“It’s good, Kez.” The seer’s voice shook the huntress from her thoughts, and she was able to smile at Rys. Since the confrontation by the stream, the skein had fallen into silence and sullenness, only speaking when necessary.

Which was fine. Perfectly fine. In fact, Kez preferred saying nothing at all to more arguments with the warrior. She glanced past the flames to where Tel was sitting, working through the grouse, which she’d wordlessly claimed for herself, and though they’d all agreed to ration for better meals on the trail the next day, she didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

She’d taken off her socks, and the huntress wasn’t really feeling like competing there. It’d look like she was following the warrior’s lead, and she was not going to be following Tel’s lead.

Kez had known that Tel was large, physically, but it was always hard to pick out details when they all wore so many layers all day, and the only time you spent inside and undressed was with your family. At least, that was how it was before she’d joined her skein, she supposed. With the warrior in less clothing, Kez could see her build clearly: arms and legs like thick trunks, wide-set shoulders, a sturdy torso. The huntress glanced up, and spied a long strip of red, dampened cloth hung on the drying line, and it definitely didn’t belong to Rys, and so her eyes twitched back down toward Tel’s full-looking...

“Kez?”

The huntress snapped her head to the side, to meet Rys’ look before it could grow any more troubled. “Sorry, what?”

The seer smiled. Her face was smooth and light, fitting naturally with the rest of her thin, almost waifish body. But, Kez had to remind herself, Rys was a seer. Seers were all skinny, and this one was even more than most. Her face seemed a shade too pale, and with the bags under her eyes, the dark circles... She was clearly exhausted.

Which made sense to Kez. Seers, usually, just sat around in the tent all day, having dreams, talking about portents and all the other seer-sort-of-things they did. Having to go on the Trial was a burden for all three, but it seemed to be hitting Rys the hardest, even only two days in. She’d sat down on her coat, as well, right near the fire, but had kept on a thicker outer shirt for warmth. “The rabbit,” she said. “It’s very good.”

“Oh.” Kez smiled back. She’d had enough of hers already, and hadn’t found it even ‘good.’ But it was food. “Thanks, Rys. You going to eat it all now, or...”

“Oh, no,” the seer shook her head, “I know to save enough for tomorrow.” Her smile brightened, then faltered, as she turned her head toward Tel’s end of the tent, where the warrior was sitting back against the wall, eating, half-encased by her discarded outer garments. “Tel? How is the...?”

“Grouse,” Kez informed, watching Rys rather than the warrior.

“Grouse, yes, I’m sorry—how is it, Tel?”

Kez could hear the shrug.

“Ah, and that’s...?”

“Fine,” Tel said.

“Ah, well, that’s good, um... there’s some more rabbit here if you...?”

“I’m fine,” she said, then a pause. “Did you want this?”

“I’m sorry?” Rys said, tilting her head.

“The bird,” Kez heard the warrior say. “Did you want the bird?”

“O-oh,” the seer laughed nervously, “no, I’m mostly full now.”

Another pause. “Did.”

“Come again?”

Tel sighed. “I mean to ask if you did want it. I did not ask permission to take it, and I should have offered it to you first.”

“Oh. Oh! No, no, Tel, that’s alright,” Rys nodded rapidly, “I really am fine with rabbit, and that’s what I wanted tonight.”

“... alright.”

“Alright,” Rys repeated. She turned her head forward, to the fire, before bringing her gaze to the huntress. “And your rabbit...?”

“Fine,” she said, with a palliative smile. Rys was skittish. Didn’t need any unnecessary upsetting.

“Ah. Alright.” The seer looked back to the flame. Kez watched her take a deep breath, then, “So have you two...?”

Kez looked at Tel. Tel looked back. Neither of them answered, and the connection quickly broke.

Rys seemed to miss the point. “Have you two, um, reconciled?”

The warrior made a noise. Sounded like a scoff. Kez, not to be outdone, scoffed even louder.

Rys swallowed. “You know, we really have to...”

“We do not have to do anything,” Tel said.

The seer’s brow furrowed. “We don’t?”

“No.”

“But you’re still...”

“Upset?” Kez cut in, “You think I’m upset about that?”

Rys looked like she thought exactly that.

“Well I’m not.” The huntress folded her arms. “All I did was ask about her pointy stick.”

“And all that I did was tell you about it,” the warrior rumbled from the other side of the tent.

“No, you got all pissy, too.”

“It was you who became agitated.”

“Oh, so threatening me isn’t agitated?”

Tel smirked. “No. You will know if I am agitated.”

“And another. Can you back up any of these threats?”

“Yes. Would you like me to back them up?”

“You know, I’m really thinking about it.”

“Do tell me your choice.”

“Oh, you’ll know.”

“Will I?”

“You—”

“STOP IT!”

Both of them froze, and their eyes slowly moved to Rys, who looked like she was going to start hyperventilating any minute.

“Both of you,” the seer said, at a softer tone than her abrupt shout, but still a very hard one for the small woman. “You’re acting like children, and I don’t care who started it, or why.”

The huntress and warrior exchanged a look. It wasn’t quite a guilty look, not quite an apology, but it was somewhere in that vicinity. Their mutual contempt had at least gone into hiding. Temporarily.

“We’re a skein now. You know what that means, don’t you?” Rys looked pleadingly between the two, but neither spoke. “It means if we don’t all get along, we’ll perish out here. We can’t survive on our own, and we can’t survive together if we hate each other. And I don’t care if you don’t think you hate each other—from where I’m sitting,” she looked down at her legs, swallowed, and looked back up, “you’re really acting like you do.”

“She’s infuriating,” Kez muttered.

“She’s petulant,” Tel grunted.

“That’s enough!” Again, they were stunned into silence, waiting as Rys caught her breath and looked into their fire again. She gulped. “There’s something that I... there’s something that we might be able to do, to help. But we all have to want it,” she warned, “that’s the only way it can work. And that’s the only way that we’re going to live out here. Okay? Can we agree to this?”

Kez stared at the seer, her hands squeezing her crossed arms. “We don’t even know what this is.” She heard Tel making some sound in agreement.

“It...” Rys sighed, exasperated.

“It is a tradition of seers?” the warrior asked.

“Yes.” Another sigh. “It’s something that I was taught, a rite, so that we could all... better understand each other.”

The huntress cocked an eyebrow. “Is it magic?”

“N-no, no.” She paused. “W-well, it sort of is, but it’s not really.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s...” Rys let go of another sigh. “It’s like relaxing, or, you’ve m-meditated beneath the ancestors’ lights, yes?” Both of them nodded. “It’s like that, only it’s an old technique, a-and it’s meant to help with handling our emotions...”

“But it’s not magic,” Kez said.

“No.” A pause. “Well, yes. Some. In a way, because, I’d be using magic, but not casting a spell, and using it with you, but not enchanting you, and...”

“Are you going to turn me into a snake?”

“What? No?”

“Then fine.” The huntress set her food aside, and saw the warrior doing the same.

The seer looked bewildered. “You mean you’ll do it?”

“I still don’t know what it is,” Kez said, and shrugged. “But if you think it’ll help... well, you’re the seer. You’re supposed to lead us with this these things.”

Rys nodded, and turned to the warrior. “And you, Tel?”

The warrior made no movement, besides that of her lips. “I would prefer to avoid our mutual deaths for as long as possible.” She walked forward and sat down, no apparent need for her coat. Cross-legged like the huntress and seer, the three of them sat in a triangle around the fire.

Kez avoided her gaze, and looked to Rys instead. “What do we do?”

The seer didn’t answer. She was looking toward the flap, up along the cone of the tent, as if she could see through it. Seers, Kez reminded herself.

“Hey,” she said, leaning toward Rys, who glanced down in embarrassment.

“Sorry?”

Kez smiled. “What do we do?”

“Ah.” The seer exhaled shakily, then she held her arms out, one pointed to the huntress, one pointed to the warrior. “T-take my hands.”

They did. The two eyed each other suspiciously a moment, their free fists reflexively clenching.

Rys must have noticed. “N-no, you just have to hold mine.” Kez relaxed her right hand, and squeezed a little with her left. The seer’s hand was very soft and small; her own had long fingers and was solid, calloused from nocking and loosing arrows since the first day she could hold a bow. She looked at Tel, who was looking at Rys, so she looked at the seer as well, who shut her eyes a moment, and took another hesitant breath. Her eyelids opened, and hazel met Kez’s waiting stare.

“Don’t look at me.”

Kez glanced over to—

“Don’t look at her, either.”

Kez felt a frown, and her eyes went to the only place left.

She heard Rys take a deep breath. “You’re looking into the fire.”

She was. They’d placed new wood on it after their meal, and its colors were alive with yellows and oranges.

Another deep breath. “You’re seeing all the different colors.”

She was. The reds and whites and sparks were all twisting and dancing together, guiding smoke into the air.

Another deep breath. “You’re watching how it moves.”

She was. It was impossible not to focus on their movements, how each tongue of fire twirled and spun with its own life, casting warmth across her skin and...

“You’re feeling how warm they are, each of these flickering tendrils.”

She was. Each tendril had its own heat, and she was able, as she watched, to understand which were warming the ground, which the air, and which were casting their light on herself, and...

Rys sounded calm, and that sounded good. “You’re feeling how warm it is, all over your body.”

She paused. She felt warm.

“In your legs,” Rys said.

She was feeling it, in her legs. It wasn’t just her trousers and the socks that were warming her, but also the nice, bright fire that she was watching.

“In your stomach,” Rys said.

That was true, too. She’d taken off her coat, she was sitting on it, and she’d taken off her outer shirt. And despite that, because of the fire she was watching, her stomach still felt the warmth and comfort.

“In your arms,” Rys said.

This took a little more for her to be sure of. She felt herself twitching her shoulders, fingers, the muscles inside each arm, assuring herself that the warmth was penetrating deep within, far under the skin.

“They’re feeling heavy, yes?”

She let herself nod into the flames. Her brow twitched, how had Rys known that?

“I know,” Rys answered, “because you’re breathing in the fire, very deeply, yes?”

Again, she had to pause—had she said something?—and she heard Rys taking her deep breath, sure as the winter’s first snow, and felt her own lungs filling in the same rhythm, taking in warm, smoky air through her nose, letting out old, tired air through her mouth. How had Rys known? It was like she couldn’t wait to exhale and let the air out, because...

“Because your chest is feeling heavy, too, yes?”

Yes, she nodded to the fire. Her chest was filling with that warm, smoky air, the same heat that made her arms feel so heavy. She pushed the old air out, and the heaviness stayed, and the warmth only...

“... grows as you take each new breath. And you like how it feels, yes?”

She liked how it felt. Her lungs felt full, not just of air, but of energy, as if she were in the midst of an invigorating run, with heat and power pumping inside her. But strangely, the rest of her was heavy, and her heart was slow, and she was...

“... breathing nice and heavy, and your eyes are feeling...”

... heavy, too, yes. She hadn’t felt the way she was blinking, before, but she did now. Slow. Languid. As though she were....

“... on the edge of sleep. But you can’t sleep yet, yes? You’re far, far...”

... far too dazzled by the fire to sleep, to let her eyes close for more than a long second. As heavy as they were, as sleepy as they were, she was held to wakefulness...

“... held by my hand. And with each...”

... squeeze of her hand, each squeeze a flood of warmth, as she checked every muscle in her heavy, warm, sleepy body. She barely moved. And that was okay. She was half asleep already, and half awake, and her eyes

“are open, now, and you cannot even fathom them”

closing, even while they were half-lidded with sleep, or even while they were held open wide. Couldn’t close, not with the fire ahead, inundating her with warmth from

“each flickering tendril, inundating your whole body. Every limb and muscle. You don’t need to”

feel them, or to test them, to know it was true. It was like a glow, all over, all at once. Like the fire had come to live inside her with its warm, smoky air. Filling her up, filling

“your body, and with everywhere else so relaxed, so heavy and warm and sleepy, the only place left for the warm, smoky air to go”

Was her mind.

She took a breath.

The seer was still speaking, but the words were as light as smoke.

Smoke that she felt coiling around her thoughts, smoke and warm and sleep twisting together like a braid.

Holding her fast.

Holding her becalmed.

Holding her

“in waking sleep.”

And even as she slept, her waking self could still hear Rys speaking. Could still hear how wonderfully she’d done, breathing and feeling in this way, how wonderfully she felt it all. She could feel the warmth in her own smile. She could listen, very closely, as Rys told her about the waking sleep. How she was held there, by Rys’ hand, which squeezed her own pleasantly, wonderfully once again. How if Rys let go, the braid of three would take her waking self, too. How she would plunge into deep, deep sleep, if Rys let go of her hand. How she couldn’t hear anyone, asleep so deeply, how she couldn’t think but for how wonderful that sleep would feel, and how much sense that made. How Rys’ hand would bring her up again, up into waking sleep. But, how she might not even recall that she had been so deeply asleep, and how that was okay, too. And how easy it would be to recall these feelings, even if her waking self might forget the exact words, the exact way she came to be so enraptured. And that was okay, too.

And then she could hear very little at all. The fire was popping, she saw it moving, saw the warmth passing from the fire to her body and back again. Her lungs were heavy, but constantly moving. Her body and eyes were heavy, yet she couldn’t recall them moving at all.

And then she felt another squeeze. And another. And Rys was telling her, squeeze, how each motion was pushing away the warmth, squeeze, pushing away the smoke, squeeze, pushing away the sleep, squeeze, how she was right there, squeeze, right back to wakefulness, squeeze,

“right back to blinking.”

Kez blinked. The first thing she felt was her sweaty, clammy grip on Rys’ hand, and she yanked it away. But immediately, the motion made her sway, made her sight swim with the afterimage of the fire in front of her, made her whole body lurch.

“Kez!” Rys cried softly, and she felt the small hand close around her forearm. Her head lolled over, saw the hazel eyes, flickering in the firelight, concerned, worried, fearful, and other things besides. “Kez, breathe, you are right here, you are sitting tall, and you are wide awake.”

She needed a few moments to make her lips work. And she didn’t want to interrupt Rys. “I’m fine,” she managed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I...” She faltered, and started testing muscles, feeling how...

“Relaxed?”

“Yeah,” Kez nodded, and she heard herself sigh.

She saw Rys’ smile. “It’s alright. Coming up from the waking sleep can feel strange.”

Kez nodded, again. Strange.

“Look,” Rys said, and her eyes moved out of Kez’s gaze, making the reflected, flickering tendrils disappear. She shook her head clear, swallowed, and followed to where Rys’ head had turned.

Tel. Kez had, somehow, completely forgotten Tel was even there. Rys was still holding her hand, still squeezing it, and Kez wondered at how strange that was. She’d felt like Rys was speaking directly to her, just to her, somehow knowing all her thoughts before she could even think them—or, maybe making her think them, or had she been thinking them with her?

The huntress swallowed again, and looked at Tel’s face. Her green eyes were completely focused, staring at the fire like a predator at its prey. She was breathing, soft and slow, and those eyes never blinked, and Kez started to look down to the fire, to see what Tel was so interested in, and she half knew what it was, but she half didn’t too, and she could feel that lovely heat again, all across her body and being, and she inhaled the warm, smoky air, and...

“Tel,” Rys said. Kez shook her head clear. Again. What had she been thinking about?

The warrior’s head turned instantly. “Yes?”

Kez saw their hands unclasp, saw Rys’ contented, if still-worrisome smile. “How was that?”

Her lips opened, and she stared thoughtfully. Her brow crinkled. “I... cannot say.”

The seer shook her head. “You don’t have to say. Did it feel nice?”

“Yes,” Tel said, and Kez thought it sounded reflexive, unthinking.

Rys turned. “And you, Kez? Did it feel nice?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded, also without thinking. But then her brow furrowed, too. “So did you...?”

The huntress glanced to Tel, who was glancing at her, too. “W-well somewhat, maybe, I mean, it’s just a first step, so...”

Kez pursed her lips. “Piss off,” she told the warrior.

“And the same to you, rabbit,” Tel replied.

“Wh... what does that even mean?!”

Before either could go further, they broke their stare, and focused instead on Rys’ aghast look. She sighed heavily, covering half her face with a hand. “You two really need more work.”

“She might,” Tel shrugged, and with nothing more to say, stood, turned, and walked back to her distant edge of the tent.

Rys looked to Kez, who shrugged too. “Fine by me.” The huntress turned to go, then paused, and looked back on the seer and her worried eyes. “Thank you, Rys. For whatever that was.”

The smaller woman nodded, her mouth closing slowly, and so Kez turned away. No one said another word that night. But later, when Kez laid down on her coat to rest, she couldn’t shake the memory of the warmth, and her lungs drew breath after breath of warm, smoky air, and the smoke and heat and memory coiled around her thoughts and braided tightly together, binding her to a sleep that soon surrounded her.