QuietValerie
patreon
Kaia the Argent Wing Chapter 44
🕑 Added 2024-03-17 14:54:19 +0000 UTCPre-Chapter note: QuietValerie is in bed reading but asked me, Ashlyn, to post a chapter for everyone to celebrate her birthday that started 4 hours ago. I am going to be a sneaky shit and encourage you to drop a few dollars as a surprise for her Birthday. Her paypal is Amelialesbun@gmail.com or her kofi is https://ko-fi.com/quietvalerie . Don't tell her I want to see how long I wrote this I want to see how long it takes for her to notice! hehehehehe >:3
An entire week after I woke up as a girl, I was getting my first opportunity to escape the confines of our snowed-in haven from the storm. Work on the various workshop upgrade projects was going well, and so was the training of those who'd picked up combat classes from the shrine. The biggest problem now was the tension surrounding Cynath's new role as divine protector of Edgewood.
A part of the issue surrounded her physical avatar, the angelic woman known as Silver, who'd been missing for almost two weeks now. Yeah… it was time I made myself known again, so I snuck out into the snow and transformed, intending to find what was left of my gear from the night I created the wards around the school.
Unfortunately, when I checked the house I'd left my axe at, it was gone. In its place sat a note that read, ‘I have your axe, Chloe.’
Fuck.
I had no idea what to do about my double life as Kaia and Silver. A part of me hated the lies and deceit, and for a time after waking up I thought I might be able to just reveal my identity. Now, though…
Pinching the paper between forefinger and thumb like I might be able to somehow make it even more flat, I glanced up and out of the window. The snow was falling thick and heavy today—part of the reason I'd managed to escape so easily.
The people of Edgewood, in my absence as Silver, had become very weird about me. Three camps were emerging, as illustrated by the conversation I overheard a couple of days ago. Some were grateful for the actions I'd undertaken to help the community—but in a way that veered into veneration. Others felt entitled to more help like I was a waitress at an upscale restaurant and I was late with their orders, and they were getting impatient. Finally, there was the substantial minority that clung desperately to the dogma of America’s uniquely toxic brand of evangelical Christianity, led by Pastor Thomas.
All three made me uncomfortable in different ways… and I didn't know what to do about it. I couldn't just hide and never show my face again as Silver. Disregarding the morale of the settlement, I just liked being her—It felt… right.
With a sigh, I placed both the piece of paper and my indecision into my pocket to deal with later, and took stock. I was still level seven, despite all the crafting I'd done over the past week. It seemed that I could only actually gain experience while I was Silver, even if Kaia could reap the benefits.
The last time I'd levelled up was right before I got shot out of the sky, but unfortunately not much more had happened. I needed to catch up to where everyone expected me to be.
According to April and the other crafters, getting to level ten unlocked more crafting related abilities while also lowering the mana costs of all abilities by a small percentage, and I wanted to see what I'd get. The fighters had also reported a similar state of affairs with their classes.
With that goal in mind, and an unwillingness to retreat for my axe, I headed back into the cold. At least I had a squiron knife and some rope in my pocket. That'd be enough.
Every time I set foot outside, it felt like the air was cooler. I was really hoping it was only my imagination… but somehow I doubted it.
Today, the storm bird was going fairly easy on the wind so at least I could save my strength for pushing through the snow drifts.
I decided to move north east, away from the distant river that split the wider city area in half. I probably wouldn't make it far enough for that to matter, but it was nevertheless a direction we hadn't explored much, as that side of the Edgewood hill was rather steep.
The suburb was a ghost town now. Nothing moved save for the snow, while the violence that'd marked the days immediately after the Storm’s arrival was hidden from view under the drifts that'd collected.
I pushed through one such drift to take an alley that would lead to a pedestrian stair down the side of the hill, when I thought I saw a quick flicker in my peripheral vision.
Dropping instantly into a crouch, I strained my senses, trying to catch any indication of what was out there.
My head whipped around. There, off to the side. The barest hint of snow compressing.
The sound came again, and some subconscious alarm blared inside my head. I dodged, throwing myself backwards as a sharp tail whipped past me.
It retracted just as fast, and I tried to chase it, but the snow was too thick.
The air whistled, and this time the stinger hit me square in the chest… but barely penetrated an inch into my boob. My hand, though, wrapped tightly around the appendage and like I were reeling in a fish, I pulled.
The scorpion screeched in surprise as its prey pulled it in l, until we were face to multi-eyed sensory cluster. Careful not to let go, I reached out with a hand, engulfed that cluster, and squeezed.
Shrieking wails pierced the oppressively overcast morning, but they didn't get far. Sound had issues travelling in this kind of weather, so unless it had buddies close by, it was hosed.
What passed for its head exploded with a violent crack, and the monster went limp. The subtle tingle of experience entering me confirmed that it was very dead, and I relaxed my grip.
I almost tossed the corpse away, but at the last second I hesitated. Looking at the carapace of the dead creature, I decided to turn it into something useful. Starting with the legs, I took out my knife and began to chop them off, along with the tail. When I was left with just the torso, I carefully scored around the oval shaped underside of the thorax, then punched it in with a quick stab.
Meat and organs slopped out in a mess, but I was careful to hold it away from me so they hit the snow instead. Using the knife again, I scraped out what was left and removed the head. Once I was done, I had what was basically a convex oval shield of chitin. A few carefully drilled holes using the point of the knife, plus some rope later, and I had a crude shield.
I took the stinger too, in case I found something for a spear haft, then continued wading through the snow drift until I reached a railing that just barely poked up out of the snow. It was the start of the pedestrian stairway down the hill.
Thankful for my pilfered gloves, I started down the way using the railings for balance while feeling for each step under the snow as I went. The footing was hella treacherous, but I was strong and dextrous enough that I found my way down to the first landing just fine.
The next landing was okay too, and I looked out down the hill as far as I could see. A few houses had been built on stilts over the steep hill, but mostly it was just scrub, trash, and the occasional hardy tree.
In the distance along the hill, I saw a group of scorpions crawling up, but they hadn’t seen me and were quickly hidden from view as they crossed the lip of the slope.
The area directly below Edgewood on this side of the hill used to be the outer reaches of the woods that our suburb was named after. Now it was all run-down shops, non-polluting industrial, and way too many second hand car lots. Past that was a freeway that led into the heart of the city, and it was that route that I planned to investigate. Well, planned was a strong word, since I just came up with the idea then.
Maybe, if the freeway was clear of mobs, we could scout up and down to get more information about the wider world. The storm didn't just have us physically blind, after all. We knew next to nothing about the state of affairs beyond the snow.
I edged carefully out through the alley and into the street, where the snow was already beginning to thin on the ground. It was a good indication of how far the storm birb’s powers extended. Right now we thought it was nesting on the other side of Edgewood from my current position.
My cautious progress came to an abrupt halt when something under the snow grabbed my foot.
All thoughts of the width of the storm and the level of the snow fled my mind as I toppled forward with a muffled cry. I managed to twist and protect my face with an arm, but the snow was thin here and I hit the pavement with a whoosh of escaping breath.
Gasping to pull frigid air back into my lungs, I rolled and scrabbled backwards away from the threat. Except… there was no threat. Nothing moved except the meandering snowflakes of the perpetual storm.
What happened? Why did I— wait, what was that mound in the snow? Was I… oh, I wasn't grabbed, I tripped on something hidden just beneath the snow.
Guardedly, I rose to my feet and approached the lump. As I did so, a primal part of my brain recognised the shape and I hesitated. It was a body.
My first instinct was to turn around and leave the poor soul to their resting place, but curiosity took hold when I saw they had what looked like a backpack on. Stepping closer, and keeping one eye on my surroundings, I bent to inspect the body.
They were pretty tall, and with a decidedly masculine build. Using a gloved hand, I brushed the snow away, revealing their frozen features. He was a black man in his mid twenties, with close-cropped hair and the beginnings of a beard growing back in. Something had gnawed on him since he died, but rather unsuccessfully. Only his face had any visible damage.
He was dressed in normal warm clothing, but portions of it had tough metal slats sewn to it as makeshift armour. Fallen from his grasp but still within reach lay a crude machete that'd been hammered and ground out of a squiron tooth.
Questions piled on top of questions in my mind, and I had far too few answers. Obviously he was a survivor from the Storm, but who was he? To put it plainly, his skin tone meant that I'd have recognised him if he were one of the very few black folks from Edgewood. That of course begged the question, where'd he come from that understood and knew to use monster parts to make gear? Why was he out here at the base of the hill, dead?
I had so many questions, and unfortunately any answers would come from investigating his corpse. Time to steal from the dead again, I guess.
Comments
insidiouspotato
Happy birthday
insidiouspotato
Ooooo
