After every great burn, I die. I die and I die.
But before I burn away forever, I shall remember these strange yet tender moments. These rare feelings. The camaraderie I have never experienced before.
The Sandfury was the first. She helped me to change my mind, and helped me to realize that my judgments had been too hasty. Khi’jazi. Even whispering her name brings me a little peace. I remember how boldly the woman stepped to me in Durotar, insisting that it was her duty to feed me. Me! Nobody had ever thought it their duty to give Dzivah a great kindness! And yet she approached me, one of the solitary and most unliked of all creatures, and did not merely ask me, for asking if I wish something would have been far too subservient a gesture. No. She told me! Told me that if I was hungry, it was her duty to remedy that.
Perplexed and amused by the strangeness of Tribal life and customs on account of being separated from it for so long, I thought to prompt her further for more words. She offered very little. And truth be told, I grew to like her more because of this. For Khi’jazi’s remarkable talent is to only say something when it is poignant and worthy of an utterance.
Khi’jazi’s presence must have rubbed my mate the wrong way. Or perhaps it is merely Drek’tal’s inability to suffer deference to the wisdom of another. I do not know. But Khi’jazi incited his ire and I found myself within a situation I’d never been in before: in between a ‘friend’ and a ‘lover’. After the initial novelty of this had worn off, I became vexed. I chided the Primal, but he was unwavering. I even stooped to pleading.
Ah, but does he listen? Never. Mercifully, Khi’jazi is as sensible and shrewd as I try to be. Seeing that the Primal is unequivocally stubborn, she sought to remedy our situation by way of a passive gesture to curry favor with Drek’tal.
Now, Dzivah cannot be sure that she has interpreted these gestures correctly. I am forever stumped by the Primal and his odd ways, but where we do not see eye to eye, Drek’tal has afforded me great respect in leaving me to ‘my ways’, and in turn, I leave him to his. Yet seeing another woman rub against my mate in an act of submission confuses me. Is this what I am to do? Is this what pleases the Primal?
At camp the next day, a single utterance tossed my world about. “I do not know what to make of Khi’jazi”, he said. I became confused and irate. I initially interpreted this as the Primal expressing misgivings about her actions. I began to fret that he had sniffed out a ruse. I protested. ‘Dzivah has had very few pleasurable experiences in her life such as the ability to genuinely trust another woman. Please do not rob her of this pleasure so quickly, Primal.’ But Drek’tal only shook his head. When he tried to elucidate on the matter, I became even more lost. His words were empty and his furrowed brow and stiff posture said too much. I’m in danger of him realizing just how ill-equipped I am for mateship.
Several days later, after we’d celebrated another successful hunt together, I thought it was worthy an occasion to try and show him my affection. So I clamped my hands down upon him and buried my head into his chest. I felt nothing. I looked up. His face mirrored mine. I apologized.
“Forgive me. I am not capable of expressing my affection easily, even at the best of times.”
He nodded flatly and agreed that he too suffered this problem. But he feels something tender and warm from another, where I leave him cold and wanting. That much is evident. Just as it is becoming evident that my constant need to be sated by flame is compelling me to commit more dangerous and far riskier acts than before.
Are we hurtling toward a dangerous climax?
