There are no arguments, no hot retorts, no insults, no calling me "pussycat."
Yesterday while I laid around in the healer's tent, my ankle propped up, April brought me food. She asked me what I wanted as a meal so she could have it prepared for me. She offered to make me special tea and bring me my favorite pillow.
It's downright suspicious.
I watch with a skeptical gaze as April appears again today. She gives me a bright smile, as if I am a child in need of encouragement. "How are we feeling?"
"If I was feeling fine, I wouldn't be at the healer's tent with my foot on a pillow, would I?" I retort, trying to get a rise out of her.
"Good point." She continues to smile, not taking the bait. "Have you tried walking on your bad leg yet?"
"No, I thought I'd lie here in the healer's tent until my flesh rotted away."
"Sounds dull," April tells me in a cheerful voice. "Well, if you want, I could help you walk over to the main fire. Gail is making dinner tonight and her stew is always excellent. You like her food."
"You can bring me some."
"No, I think we should join the group," she says again, voice firm.
"I disagree."Now disagree with me. Start an argument that shows me your fiery personality.
She keeps smiling, but I sense a vague disappointment in her, as if I have been given a trial and failed. That is more frustrating than anything — I am being tested on something that has no rules, and I do not know how to respond. I need keffingguidelines.
She continues to watch me. I glare back. It's as if we're waiting for the other to respond first.
"It's been two days," April says finally. "You should walk a little. Come with me."
"Why, so I can be around the others and their screeching children? So they can all tell me stories about people I don't know and things I don't care about?" Why is she so set uponnotbeing alone with me?
"You should want to be around people." April gives me an exasperated look, as if I am missing the obvious.
Want to be around these people? I'd sooner want to dive headfirst into ice water. "Why?"
She twirls a finger in a bit of decorative fur on her collar. "Because you're going to be living with them? You should have friends. More friends than just Skarr, anyhow."
I scoff. "Skarr is not my friend."
April makes a face back at me. "He's literallyyourbestfriend. You talk to him all the time when he's here. I wouldn't be surprised if the two of you are saving up your secrets so you can compare notes when he gets back."
Does she think I have a fondness for Skarr? "He comes up and talks to me. I do not seek him out."
"Do you seekanyoneout?"
"You," I say.
She doesn't smile. "Other than me?"
I do not, but I know that answer will somehow disappoint her. "I fail to see why this is important."
"You know what? It's not. Never mind. Forget I asked." She gets to her feet, and again, I somehow feel that I have placed a wedge between us that I did not know was there. "Do you want me to bring you dinner later?"
"Maybe," I say, scowling up at her. Why is she so frustrating?
April gets to her feet, shoots me another disappointed look, and then leaves. I'm left alone in the healer's hut, stewing and wondering what I did wrong. How the kef did I manage to mess this up while lying on my back? I don't understand. I don't understand her, and I don't understand the situation at all.
I glare at my surroundings for a time, irritated. The flap opens and I sit up, hoping that it is April. That she's come to keep me company after all. That she's back to her usual prickly self and everything is fine.
A large sa-khui male glares down at me with a dour expression. Blood drips down his hand and he keeps it curled to his chest. He eyes me like I'm a problem. "Is the healer in?"