The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kez had dreamed.

Which wasn’t anything too weird on its own. She dreamed often, and about lots of things. She dreamed about hunting, she dreamed about running, she even dreamed about flying. And one time, she dreamed about being a mountain. That one was pretty weird on its own, she had to admit.

Kez had dreamed about kissing.

Which, well, that was a bit weirder, yes. But she dreamed of kissing every so often. And there were a few boys for whom she dreamed more than just kissing.

Kez had dreamed about kissing a woman.

... it was getting weird now, she realized. Of course she thought about kissing women, how could she not? But she never dreamed of it.

Kez had dreamed about kissing Tel.

... yeah.

Weird.

This was why Kez was quiet. Even now while they walked, when she was at her most bored and most starved for conversation. She knew if she said anything, her voice would come out all squeaky, and the strange thoughts might just slip on out with it. Tel was frigid—she always was—so the huntress was content to keep far away from her and her stony gaze, but Rys. Rys always seemed to be glancing over.

Could seers see dreams? Or thoughts?

Of course not. Right?

Kez made out with Tel. In the dream, that is. She’d made out with guys before, but never...

Well, never with a girl. And never with Tel.

Her lips had been soft. Really soft. How could that happen? The rest of her body was so hard.

Well, except for her breasts. Kez had felt those, too, pushing against her front while they kissed.

Those were soft. Big, too. No wonder she wrapped them up, she...

... she was licking her lips. Kez shook her head. Just dreams. All dreams.

... but it was weird, right? Why was she having dreams about Tel at all, let alone making out with Tel?

Kez didn’t know.

But if anyone would...

She cleared her throat, like that’d clear out the awkwardness in her whole body. It sounded like a duck being strangled, but it got Rys’ attention. Kez put on a grin. Rys smiled back, crookedly. “Sleep okay?” she asked the seer.

Rys looked forward, out over the snow-covered plain ahead of them. “Uh huh.”

Okay, not a great beginning... Kez leaned back, and stretched her arms to feign a yawn. “Just figured, y’know, with the aurora up and all, sleep might get kinda weird for you, yeah?”

Rys still looked and marched forward. “It can be, yes.”

Not a great middle, either. The huntress let her paces carry her closer to the seer. Beneath the fur hood, her eyes looked a bit downcast. Or, like an animal’s, while it’s looking at some tasty morsel sitting in a snare. Like it knows it’s a trap, but it’s still really hungry. “Hey,” Kez started, “is there anything...?”

The seer’s face lit suddenly with a smile, turning and shaking her head quickly. “No, no Kez, I’m alright, only... just distracted from the Trial. I’m sorry. How did you sleep?”

Warmth at the back of her neck. Now Kez was the one looking away. “Fine, I think.”

“You think?” Rys didn’t sound like she believed it.

“Well, yeah, I just...”

“You had a dream.”

Warmth all over her neck. Kez was about to draw a breath to speak, but, “It’s okay, Kez.” The seer chuckled. “I can’t see inside your dreams.”

The huntress laughed, another throttled noise. “Well that’s a relief.”

“Is it? How come?”

Fuck. Play it off, Kez, nice and cool. She swept her eyes and a cocky smirk toward the seer, feeling perhaps less cool than she might’ve looked. “Things can get a little interesting that late at night, Rys. You know what I mean?”

“A-ah.” Both women looked away from each other. At least Kez wasn’t the only one flushing now.

“Kidding. Totally kidding,” she chuckled into the mute air between them. But while they walked, and the snow went on... she still wanted to know. “How did you know I dreamed?”

The seer shrugged in her periphery. “You seemed like you had.”

“How can you tell that?”

“The way you’ve been talking. The way you’ve been not talking. The way your eyes and your brow always look like they’re thinking about something the rest of us can’t see.”

What else had she been noticing with all these tricks? And how had Kez not even thought of any of it? “You learned all that as a seer?” the huntress asked, incredulous.

“No,” Rys laughed. “I’m just good at guessing, I suppose.”

“It’s not guessing if you get so many hints.”

“Learn to hide them better.” Rys even winked. Her spirits were coming up, and the two shared a smile.

“If you’re so observant,” Kez rebounded, “what was I dreaming about?”

She saw the seer smiling. “Something you’re embarrassed by.”

The huntress chewed her lip before responding. “That’s not very specific.”

“Dreams never are, Kez,” the seer replied.

“You know more about them than me.”

She saw a flash of hazel, and their eyes locked together, though they never stopped walking. “Is that why you’re wanting to ask me about this dream, Kez?”

She gulped. “And you knew that, because...”

Rys’ gaze didn’t move. “Because I know it, Kez.” The familiar, warm tone made the huntress tremble for a moment. A smile appeared on the seer’s face, one that might’ve broken the moment, at any other time, but now it only seemed to deepen the growing tension. “Because I know how curious you are. I’ve seen it, remember?”

She nodded.

“You know where I’ve seen it?”

She did.

Her hand was squeezed. Her eyes went wide. Her body felt a deep, warm shiver. It only grew with Rys’ words, “Tell me where I’ve seen it.”

“In the waking sleep,” she whispered into Rys’ eyes.

Another squeeze. Another pulse of tingling, nervous energy. “And you know what I’m doing now?”

She did.

Squeeze. Shiver. A deep, slow breath. “Tell me.”

“The waking sleep.”

Squeeze. And again. “Do you mind it, Kez?”

“No,” she said quickly.

Squeeze. Squeeze. She heard herself sigh. “You know that we can keep walking, just like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

Squeeze. “And you know that my eyes are so warm, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“What do they remind you of, Kez?”

“The fire.”

Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze. Warm all over. “So good, Kez. So warm, aren’t they. And where there is fire...?”

“There is smoke.”

“Warm, smoky air, isn’t that right, Kez?”

“Yes.”

“You can smell it now, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Focus on it,” Rys said.

She did. It wasn’t hard. The scent of smoke had come easily in the woods, and there was no fire there, either.

“Not on my eyes,” Rys said.

Not on her eyes? Then... outward. Out to where the snow met the sky. That’s where she was focused, where Rys wanted her focused.

“You’re looking for the fire,” Rys said.

She was. The smoke was there, she could smell it on the wind. But the fire couldn’t be seen.

“You’re looking so far ahead,” Rys said.

It had to be somewhere. Rys could have seen it, Rys was a seer. But she was only a huntress, and she had to track the flame with her senses.

“... tracking it in your body. And you feel it in your body, yes?”

She felt it in her body. The fire was close, perhaps just over the horizon. For the smoke was in her feet and her legs, and that was why they kept moving, never faltering. The warmth was in her arms, and...

“... that is why you are drawn forward, farther and farther...”

... and farther, getting closer to the fire, she could feel it. Closer to the source of the smoke and warmth. And she counted what she felt in her body. Smoke below. Warmth above. But still missing...

“... still missing is sleep, what holds the braid of waking sleep together...”

... and she could not find sleep, for she could not see the fire. But it was close. Like she could feel sleep pressing on her from

“all sides, around your arms, around your legs, around your chest, around your”

head, she could feel the sleep pressing at her eyes, though they would not close, they could not

“close, not until you can find the fire, not until you can find the sleep,”

not until the braid could be formed and take her to waking sleep, she yearned for it so

“much, and you feel so eager, so ready, that when the squeeze comes”

she would not even feel it, she would not even know where it had come, only that it had brought sleep, and the spinning braid, and

The waking sleep.

She took a breath.

Her eyes could shut.

Rys was speaking, but the words were just more smoke.

Her feet were walking, but the motion was just more warmth.

Her mind was thinking, but the pondering was just more sleep.

Smoke and warm and sleep.

Twisting in their braid.

Twisting over her mind.

Held fast.

Held deep.

Held calm.

Held entangled.

Held so warm and nice and deep

“in waking sleep.”

And even as she slept, her waking self would still hear Rys speaking. Would still hear how wonderfully she was doing, feeling so held and wrapped up tight. She did not need to think about anything but how nice the feeling was. She could forget her body, for it was more important that Rys direct her legs, so that they could walk carefully, and safely, and she knew that she was very safe. She knew that Rys would not let go. She knew that Rys would keep holding and squeezing her hand and making her feel so lovely, and even while they strolled in the sleepy darkness of the warm smoky braids.

Even while they talked, if she wanted to talk. She did want to talk. Talk about what? About her dream. About her dream, that was right, they would talk about her dream. What dream? The dream where she kissed Tel. That was right, they would talk about that dream. How did that dream make her feel? Weird. Warm. Confused. That was all alright. She knew it was alright. Did she know it was just a dream? Yes, she knew it was just a dream. The aurora made strange dreams, was this a strange dream? Yes, this was a strange dream. From the aurora. This was a strange dream from the aurora, yes.

And that was very good. She knew that was very good. It was okay to feel weird and confused from the strange dreams from the aurora. Yes, she knew this. It was okay to feel warm from any of her dreams. Yes, she knew this too. And that was very good. Knowing that was very good, she knew. What else had she dreamed about? Feeling Tel’s breasts. Did she like dreaming these dreams? She did not know. Did she dislike dreaming these dreams? She knew she did not.

And that was very good. She knew that was very good. It was always okay to not dislike her dreams. She knew this. It was always okay to like her dreams. She knew this, too. And that was very good. She knew that was very good. And she would always feel just how she felt. She knew this. The way she felt could never be tampered with. She knew this, too. Her self was her own and that couldn’t be changed. She knew this, too.

And that was very good. She knew that was very good. Did she want to remember talking of the dream? She did not. Why not? Weird and warm. And that was okay. She knew that was okay. Did she want to remember not remembering the talking of the dream? She did not. And that was okay, too. She knew that was okay, too. So it would all be like a dream. She knew it would all be like a dream. It would all be a warm, smoky, sleepy dream. She knew it would all be a warm, smoky, sleepy dream.

And that was very good. She knew that was very good. She would smile as her hand was squeezed. She knew this. She would wake as her hand was squeezed. She knew this, too. She would float out of the braid, squeeze, moment by moment, squeeze, for Rys was bringing her awake, squeeze, out of the sleep, squeeze, pushing away warmth, squeeze, seeing through the smoke, squeeze, in her body again, squeeze, coming back awake, squeeze, so very close, squeeze, and

“so very awake, Kez, just blink now.”

She blinked.

“You’re awake.”

She was.

... Kez blinked. She looked at Rys, who had a smile, and a blush, and a look of concern in her eyes. “What just...?”

Rys spoke first. “Remember your legs, Kez.”

She did. Her eyes darted down, and she nearly tripped over herself. The numbness that was there vanished instantly, and all her muscles complained. She was walking. She’d been walking. She’d been... “Oh, fuck.”

“Y-you seemed like you were interested, so I...”

The huntress looked over. “So y-you... just did it to me? While walking?”

The seer nodded meekly. How far had they come? How long had it been? It was all... muddled, she couldn’t tell, and...

And Kez couldn’t help grinning. “Rys, that’s amazing.”

“Y-you’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. No fire, no smoke, not even any sitting!” She paused. “Did Tel—”

“She’s been behind us the whole time,” Rys quickly assured. “Can’t have heard a thing.”

The huntress sighed. “Thank the ancestors for that.”

“You don’t want her knowing?”

“No, I...” Well, she didn’t. But she also had no good reason to give. “I-I don’t want her to get the wrong ideas.”

“What ideas do you mean?” Rys’ hand was drifting closer again, with Kez staring at it from the corner of her eye, watching it inch closer and closer and...

Kez yanked her hand away before her fingers could feel the feather-soft and warm touch. She kept on walking, eyes forward.

But she couldn’t quite ignore the seer’s look of concern, or her words. Just as warm as the touch, and maybe even softer. Tender, like they could just shatter if you listened to them too hard. “Was it something I—”

“No!” Kez flashed an instant, radiant grin. “Not at all. You’re fine. Great, even, just... great.”

But Rys didn’t stop staring. “Is everything alright?”

Is it?

“Totally!” Kez answered herself, and threw her head back to laugh. It came out honestly, and loudly. Too loudly? She shook her head, cradling her offending right hand in her left and massaging the palm with a thumb. “Just an old strain. Flared up when you were squeezing it.”

“Oh?” Rys’ steps took her a little closer to Kez’s side, but the huntress shifted her own to maintain their distance. “... you hadn’t mentioned that before, I’m... sorry if I hurt you.”

“Hey, no harm and no foul.” Kez shrugged easily. “You didn’t know, I wasn’t thinking. Just have to stretch it every so often, can’t really let it get so cramped and start seizing up and, you know how it is.”

“Um, I don’t really, though—”

“Ah, well, what can you do?” Another shrug, and an even easier smile. Matched by one of Rys’ little, shy, fleeting ones. And that was just great. “Have to crack the knuckles, work the wrist, take care of the whole arm too, oof. You know, all the big muscles from your shoulder go all the way down past your elbow and...”

And on she went. And she was happy! Really. Kez felt great. Except for her hand. And except for a weird feeling that would stir itself up whenever the silence got too loud. So she talked, ’cause that’s what she did best, and Rys listened, ’cause she did that really well too.

Once, though, the quiet got really thick. So much that she couldn’t even hear her own feet, or Rys’, but she heard Tel’s clear as day. And Kez turned her head back to meet the hard, green gaze. And cracked a nervous smile.

The warrior didn’t respond.

“You wanted to ask me about something earlier?” Rys’ voice wafted in.

Kez nodded, walking forward and looking backwards. “I, uh...”

“How about... we talk about it next time we’re alone?”

She nodded again. “Sure. Sounds great.” But even when she turned her head forward again, and took to describing the trees she so helpfully pointed out to Rys, she could still see and feel the green eyes boring through her.

Does she know?

Does it matter?

About that last, strange, warm and weird moment? No, probably not.

About the dream?

She tried not to think about the dream. But whenever silence returned, she was licking her lips.

“Bear’s ready, who’s hungry?”

It wasn’t said with much enthusiasm. There was only so much you could do, on the move, with bear meat. And most of those had been exhausted in the first two nights. And now it was the third night of eating a bear that really shouldn’t have been killed at all.

At least Kez had finally cooked it all. Keeping the meat stored away in snow and ice prevented sickness from seeping in, but it had already been tough the night before. She didn’t expect it to be any better tonight, but at least it smelled good. Rys scooted forward to pull a piece off the spit, and Tel did the same.

Kez followed their lead. She chewed. Swallowed. At least it smells good.

“It is good,” Tel murmured. First three words she’d said all day.

Kez cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“She’s right, Kez, it’s really...” Rys swallowed and glanced around. “Good.”

The huntress chuckled. “It’s days-old bear. We’re eating it ’cause it’s edible, not ’cause it’s good.”

“And am I wrong for enjoying it?” Tel questioned.

Kez frowned. Her eyebrow stayed risen. “Did you burn your tongue on it?”

“I did not.”

“Then I don’t see how you can...”

“It is not hard to impress me,” the warrior shrugged. “I am no huntress. I have never eaten bear. And I think that it is good, rabbit.”

Kez looked away. “Well, thanks.”

“You are welcome. Thank you for this meal.”

“Mmhm,” Rys chimed in, her mouth still full of the meat that she’d been chewing for at least a minute.

“Whatever.” Kez did smile, as she gnawed through her own small meal. “You’re telling me your hunter-father never cooked a bear?”

The warrior shook her head.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to kill bears...” Rys squinted.

“It’s not, ugh.” The huntress forestalled her mounting temper, and exhaled. “If a bear attacks, you kill it, and you do it right. Then you skin it and you cut it up and you use its bones and everything else for something else. A new coat. New boots. Meals for a week.”

“Why don’t we just eat bear all the time?”

“Because she almost fucking ate all of us first, Rys.” Again, Kez had to calm herself. At least the seer didn’t seem too scared by the outburst. Maybe she was getting used to her. “Hunting bear is a lot more dangerous than hunting caribou. And if you hunt all the bears...”

The warrior nodded. “That which the bear eats will grow more numerous.”

Kez pointed a finger her way. “Exactly. That bear you killed was a grizzly. It’ll eat anything. Elk. Caribou. Wolves.”

“Wolves?” Rys looked aghast.

“Yes, wolves. The bears are on top. They keep everything else in check. Just like how if we ate all the wolves—which we wouldn’t, because wolf is disgusting, trust me I know—there’d be too many elk, and if there were too many elk, there wouldn’t be enough plants on the ground, and there go the rats, the deer, the hares...”

“It seems to be a delicate balance.”

“Yes, Tel.” Kez sighed. “That’s why we roam. We follow the herds, who follow the aurora, we take what we need, we follow them some more. If we just sat in one place, there wouldn’t be enough animals to feed us all. We couldn’t take without taking too much, and the land dies and the animals die with it.”

Tel slowly nodded. Rys looked thoughtful. Spoke pensively. “I’ve heard, farther north, there’s places where they don’t roam. They use magic there, to grow and live off of plants alone, and whatever animals they raise.”

“Raise?”

The seer nodded. “Keeping animals all in a room, until they mate and give birth, and raising those children... just to mate them again, and eat them.”

Kez shuddered. “That’s horrible.”

“But... isn’t it like—”

“No,” she said severely, “it’s not. Acting like that, they’re trying to put themselves over the world. But we don’t own it. We don’t own the animals or the plants or the land or anything. We’re just here, and just living, just like everything else.” Her skeinmates nodded. Kez scoffed again. “All those people in one place. They think they’re not, but if you locked them all in a room, wouldn’t be long before they all start...”

...well, fucking. What else did people do, when pushed close together?

Sit around a fire and eat bear, she supposed. They were all sitting in shirts and trousers, right next to the fire, working slowly at the unsatisfying meat. Not that it was cold. Kez just wore her clothes because the others had done the same. But still, every so often a wisp of smoke flew up toward the tent’s smoke-hole, and on its way, it would gently brush past the dangling line of red cloth. Stained with sweat, and drying out. Kez didn’t look too close at it, but whenever it moved, it did catch her eye.

Because she’d dreamed about Tel’s breasts. She had enough sense not to look at the woman, but with her loose binding... Kez could picture it. There was a lot of cloth. A lot for it to cover. Tel’s body was already broad enough, and then... yeah. Lot to cover.

Rys coughed. Kez put the last piece of her meat in her mouth, then glanced to the seer, just as Tel was doing. “Are you alright, Rys?” the warrior asked.

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Something in my throat.”

Tel nodded too. “Good. I do not know if we could withstand a bout of sickness.”

“I’m not sick.”

“I know, Rys,” the large woman spoke softly. “I do not think that you are.”

The seer nodded again. That nervousness had returned to her eyes, the ones that had been glittering so brightly with confidence mere hours before. The rest of their walk had passed both fast and slow, like a dream until Tel had wandered away to collect the branches they would need to make camp. She hadn’t talked to Rys then, and Rys hadn’t talked to her... even though she’d said they would. She’d had a look, in fact, just like the one she’d labelled Kez with earlier: brows knit, lips working, eyes always looking at something Kez couldn’t see.

“Will we perform the ritual once more tonight, Rys?”

“No.”

The exchange, and its curtness, shocked Kez back to the present, and her lips were speaking before she knew it. “What?” The seer’s eyes darted over fearfully, but the huntress shook her head. “It’s fine, just... I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“As am I,” Tel agreed.

“W-we can’t do it every night, you know...”

The warrior’s eyebrow rose. “Why is that?”

Rys swallowed and stammered, “B-because of, well, seer-things, you see, I...” Her eyes glanced up. She looked down again, dejected as her shoulders sagged. “... last night, with the aurora... it took a lot out of me, so, I don’t think I could do it again tonight.”

Kez almost argued, but she held her tongue. Rys had done it just fine, eagerly so, hours ago. Without her even asking. But now she was saying she was too tired?

Is she lying? Kez didn’t want to think it, but... it made sense.

But why, though? And why with a lie that she knew the huntress couldn’t object to?

Because Kez didn’t want Tel to know. And she wanted that stronger than starting an accusation, so she just watched while the warrior nodded. “I understand. Perhaps my appreciation has led to hastiness. I apologize, Rys.”

“It’s alright,” the seer murmured. Kez’s stomach twisted—Rys wouldn’t even meet her gaze.

Tel must have noticed her staring. “Rabbit, I think that you, too, may only be eager, and not demanding of this ritual?”

“... yeah,” she said, turning back to the fire, her thoughts flying rapid in her head. Was it something she’d done? Something she’d said? Had Rys seen her dream, had that been why she was lying now? Or was she jumping to conclusions? Maybe Rys was exhausted, maybe she could only have handled one person in the ritual and not two...

When Kez looked up, Rys was on her side, faced away from the fire and lying beneath a blanket of fur.

“She decided to rest,” Tel said. She sat there with hands in her lap and a small, strange smile on her face. Looked wrong. The way the lips were framed by the jaw, so soft instead of... shit, not again.

Kez just nodded, and stopped staring. With a long look at the seer’s dark braid, Kez, too, laid down. Her hands folded behind her head, and her eyes stared up to the wisps of dark smoke, the stars peeking through the hole at the top of their tent, and the loose, red strip of cloth, as it waved back and forth in a wind she couldn’t see. It wasn’t early enough for sleep, but with Rys resting, there was little to do but lay back, and stare, and try to keep her mind from imagining Tel’s breasts, tightly bound around and around with warm, red wrap.

Kez startled, her eyes flicking open again. It was still dark above. The fire still cracked, below. The bit of cloth still hung. And Tel’s glaive still sung its rhythmic, high-pitched chant of steel.

But there was another sound.

Something deep, something warm. Something that had made Kez’s lips smile before she could even place it.

It was humming. Low and strong, twisting in a song around the sighs of Tel’s weapon and the stone that she took to it. It wasn’t one the huntress had heard before. It was too low to have been sung by her warrior-father while they walked hand-in-hand through the snow. So high could his pitch go, he sounded like a girl with some songs, and Kez had always laughed at that.

It wasn’t the sound of a man at all. It was of a woman, she knew. Large and strong, just like the sound. Then it, and the grinding glaive, stopped. “You are awake,” Tel said. How’d she know?

Kez swallowed. “Yeah,” she said. She didn’t look anywhere but up. And the silence stretched out. “You were humming?” she asked, into the warm air.

“I was.” The warrior’s voice was deep, that of the song, not of sleep.

“Why’d you stop?”

“I did not want to trouble you further, rabbit.”

“Trouble?” Kez flipped her body around, lying on her front, putting her right ear to the ground while she looked across the fire to Tel. “It wasn’t bothering me.”

“It awoke you.”

“I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.”

The warrior sighed. “But you did. And now that rest is disturbed.”

Kez smiled. “I don’t mind, Tel.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

Another sigh. “Because we all must rest, rabbit. The Trial and our journey are both long. I cannot see its end, and so we must still save our strength.”

“Well, sure. But why aren’t you sleeping?”

“The glaive needed tending to.”

“Are a few branches that bad for it?”

“Yes.” The warrior smiled in the dim light. “Go back to sleep now, rabbit.”

“Nuh uh.” She shook her head, smile turning to a grin. “I’m already awake.”

“Then you should be attempting to correct that.”

“There’s better things to do than sleep!” Kez cursed herself for the loudness of her voice, and as she sat up she glanced to Rys. Still breathing slowly, still curled on her side. Good. The huntress looked back over to Tel. “We haven’t talked all day.”

“We have not.”

Kez swallowed, remembering the binding hung above, and what had occurred the last time she was asleep. “Do you... want to?” she asked.

“I cannot stop you.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “but I’d shut up if you wanted me to.”

Tel stared for a moment. “I do not want that.”

Fluttering in her stomach. Why was there fluttering in her stomach? Kez faked a cough, then moved herself and her furs around the fire to sit at Tel’s left side. The polearm was still in the warrior’s lap, over her crossed legs, so Kez simply scooted herself under it, past the deadly spike at its butt. The rabbit-killer. Not too friendly a name.

“Have you something in mind to speak on?” Tel grinded the stone across the gleaming blade’s curve once more.

“Your singing?”

Another shriek. It was less palatable, without the humming to go with it. “What of it?” Tel asked, not looking up.

“Well, I... I liked it.”

“It was not for you.”

“Well I know that. Obviously.” Kez huffed. “I just liked it.”

“... you have my thanks, then.”

“You’re welcome,” the huntress said around a grin. “Does it have a name?”

“Hm?”

“The song, Tel.”

“Ah.” The warrior thought a moment, as her stone sang over steel once again. “‘The Cry in the Night.’”

“Sad name.”

“It is a sad song.”

Kez’s brow furrowed, watching Tel’s arms work without thinking. “Why would you sing a sad song?”

“Hm?”

“I mean, my warrior-father always sings happy songs. Fun ones. Awesome ones. Scary ones, ones about danger, sometimes, but... never just sad songs.”

Tel’s only response was another shrieking whisper, and a small and thoughtful hum.

The huntress frowned. “Does it make you sad, to sing it?”

“Some.”

“Then why do it?”

She saw Tel’s green eyes. “Did it make you happy, to hear it?”

“... well, yeah,” she murmured.

“Then that is part of why.” The warrior smiled, and looked back down to her glaive.

“But you said it wasn’t for me.”

Another silver cry. “It was not.”

“Then who was it for?”

Tel took a breath, in and out. “It was my hunter-father who taught me to sing, who passed on his songs.”

Kez’s lips pursed. “Did he make it up?”

“He did not. It is an old song. One he learned from his warrior-mother, who learned it from her huntress-mother.”

“That’s pretty old.”

“And older still.” Tel met the huntress’ gaze again. “It is the story of a child, naked, lost in the cold with no skein to shelter them. They wander the wilderness, crying for someone to hear them, for they cannot help themselves.”

“And no one hears?”

“No. Many hear.” The warrior sighed. “One skein hears, but they are beset by creatures of the night. Not one can be spared to help the child. Two more skeins hear, male and female, but they are with children of their own. Not one could be spared to help the child. The beasts of the earth hear the child’s cries, but they cannot understand its needs. They keep away from it. They fear what it might do.”

“... so what happens?”

“The child freezes, and perishes.”

Kez swallowed dryness. “That’s horrible.”

Tel shrugged. “It is a song, rabbit. These things do happen in songs.”

“Why would he teach something so... so sad to you? Why would he sing that stuff at all?”

“I cannot know the intentions of another.” The blade cried out.

“You’ve never asked?”

“No.”

Kez’s frown deepened. “Why do you sing it, then?”

“To remind myself.” The stone sang. “Of what is important in our lives. Of what must be done.”

The huntress leaned, to look into the warrior’s eyes. “But why not sing a song where someone does the right thing? Where the child is saved?”

“Because life, rabbit, is never so simple.” Tel set down the stone, and put both her hands on the glaive’s shaft, its red-colored wrappings. “We do not always do what is right. We do not always care for one another. A story like this, one that you feel is so sad, has happened many, many times more than a righteous tale.

“These songs repeat themselves in our lives,” the warrior went on. “I think that it is why my hunter-father knew and sang so many stories like this. To know how such a song will end, and still to sing it even so...” she chuckled. “Perhaps things might be better, the next time it is sung. Perhaps a skein or an animal will find the child, warm them, protect them. Perhaps, when someone is in need, you or I will help them. Even if we are in danger, ourselves. Even if we have too many to feed. Even if we cannot understand them, rabbit. The skeins are strong. Our braids are tightly woven. But... we are each, though three, alone. Our ways can be very selfish.”

Kez nodded slowly. “Did your hunter-father teach you all that?”

“Much of it.” The warrior smiled.

“He sounds like he knows a lot.”

“Yes.” Tel picked up her stone again. The smile stayed fixed.

Kez went on. “You... don’t talk about your family so often.”

“I do not.”

“Is there a why coming, or...?”

The smile faded. “Does it matter, rabbit?”

The huntress blinked. “Well, yeah, kind of...”

“Then what would you ask of me?”

“I don’t know.” Kez shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

“You always are.” The warrior chuckled. “Do not blush, rabbit. I admire it.”

“My curiosity,” Kez murmured. Warmth on her neck.

“Yes. My hunter-father was curious, as well.”

The huntress blinked. Something moved, beneath the warrior’s green stare. And something drifted into place in Kez’s mind. “... was?”

She saw Tel take another breath. In and out. “He perished some years ago.”

Her stomach bottomed out. “Oh.”

“It was difficult for my huntress-mother. Our skeins have struggled since. We have often eaten little.” A smile returned, but to Kez’s sinking spirits, it looked sad, even if Tel seemed unaffected. And she kept talking, tone never faltering. “You wonder why I appreciate the meals you provide us, rabbit.”

The huntress felt herself nodding, swallowing. The warrior was stoic as ever. “How did he...?”

“Bandits. Perhaps another skein. An... arrow, we found, in his throat. His face had been savaged. They stripped him of his clothes, and then the rest of his body was beaten, as well.”

“Shit, Tel, I’m so...”

“Sorry?” Tel’s head canted to the right. “Why should you be?”

“I-I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” Kez said quickly.

“No,” the warrior nodded. “I do not know how you could.”

“... are you okay?”

“How could I be anything but?”

Kez gulped. “I know that if one of my fathers died, I... I don’t know what I would do.”

“Survive. Move forward. These are the only things that one can do.”

“But you don’t sound sad,” the huntress said. “How do you move forward from... that?”

Tel stared. “I am. And one does not.”

Kez looked away. Her breath wanted to tremble. She wanted to see her family. But... she was with her skeinmates now. They were family, now, like it or not. Rys lay still. Breathing, but... “... do you think Rys is asleep?” she asked the warrior.

“I do.”

A pause. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“Yes.”

“What, seriously?”

“Somewhat.”

Kez turned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, rabbit, that I worry for her.”

They shared a nod. “I do, too.”

“Her strand bears more weight than ours. It can be seen on her face, in her movements. She carries it on her back.”

“Do you know what it is? Sometimes she seems normal to me, but then...”

“Then she grows timid, or cold, and I cannot tell why,” Tel finished. “Where she was bold, she becomes afraid.”

“Sometimes I’m never sure if she’s about to laugh or cry.”

Tel looked across the flames. “Perhaps it is both.”

“What can we do?”

“Nothing.”

Kez rounded on the warrior, the glare coming compulsively. “What the fuck do you mean?”

Tel barely moved. “We can only help her should she desire to be helped, rabbit.”

“She doesn’t seem like it now.”

“She does not,” Tel agreed.

“... do you think she will?”

The warrior didn’t answer.

“... well,” Kez began, “it just stresses me out.”

“As it does to I.”

The huntress felt a laugh in her lungs, stifled it. Mostly. “I didn’t know you could be stressed.”

Tel smiled. “I can, rabbit. I have many worries.”

“You don’t show it.”

“Might is not the only strength a warrior possesses.”

Kez opened her mouth to speak, then... another thought came free. “Could you teach me?”

Tel’s brow rose. “Teach you to...”

“How to hide what you feel,” the huntress sighed.

“Kez.” Tel’s hand gripped her shoulder. Warm. Strong. Green eyes demanded her attention. “It is not hiding. To know one’s feelings is to confront them.”

“But what if I...” she hesitated, “what if I don’t want to face what I’m feeling?”

“Who would? It is not pleasant to do.” The warm hand squeezed. “But this is how we move forward.”

“... it sounds hard...”

The hand squeezed again. As did another. And then her shoulders were pulled, gently and firmly, and their faces were inches away... her forehead touched to Tel’s. Green eyes filled her vision. Breath caught in her throat. “That,” the warrior whispered, “is why we are not alone.”

“Y-yeah,” Kez managed. Fluttering in her stomach. Ancestors, so much fluttering.

“We are skeinmates now.” The warrior’s voice was deep. Soft, like humming. “We are kin. And I will protect you, Kez. Not only with my weapon. I swear this to you.”

She nodded, against the warrior’s warm flesh.

“When you are weary, I will keep watch until you are rested. When you are endangered, I will fight until you are safe. And when you need aid, when you ask of it, I will not sleep until you have it.”

The huntress swallowed. “... thank you.”

Tel released her, and drew away, but the warmth remained, on her temples, on her shoulders, on her everything. “It is my duty.”

“What, all that?” Kez’s set lips cracked into a grin. “I thought you were just here to fight.”

The warrior smiled. “Not hardly. Now rest, rabbit.”

Kez nodded. She stretched her legs out on her coat and furs, and turned her back to Tel’s side. But she didn’t move away. “Tel?”

A hesitation. “Yes?” Steel cried once more.

“... would you sing for me?”

Not a pause this time. “Yes.”

The shriek of stone became like a breeze. Humming, both sad and sunny at once, floated around her in the smoke. She tried to banish the fluttering, and succeeded only in denying it. She tried to picture the smile on Tel’s face, as she worked and sang, and succeeded only in sinking, quickly, into sleep.