Pamoen sat at a table being fed slop, really, that's what it was...slop. But she took her spoon and ate the food...regardless.
They watched her...the species, they watched her but one stepped forward. The centaur, he stepped forward.
"You look familiar," he said to Pamoen.
"I can see your dingaling."
He blushed profusely, since he was a horse from the bottom down, he didn't wear clothes. No centaur did. It was just their bare chest and if a female, a bra.
"I..." he started. "We don't wear pants..."
Everyone was looking at him now, his face more red by the minute.
-
He had pants on as he stood in front of Pamoen who was still eating. He attempted to start over. "Who is your sire?"
"Sous Apex!"
The centaur stepped back and exchange looks with his friends. "I know her," he said. "Back, way back, like years, Sous came into our territory by Hacate in Nadia. She had a friend with her, they were practicing hunting." He turned to look back at the child. "I remember her reputation. About what she did to help the other specieis."
The centaur's cheeks flushed a deeper crimson beneath his fur as he shifted, the unfamiliar weight of hastily donned trousers chafing against his equine flanks.
Pamoen ignored the murmurs rippling through the crowded mess hall or whatever she was, her focus entirely on the coarse wooden chairs before her. She scraped the last viscous globs of greyish slop with meticulous care, the spoon's dull edge rasping against the grain.
Each deliberate swallow was a small victory, a grounding ritual in the face of unsettling strangeness. Outside the high, barred windows, alien birdsong trilled, a sharp counterpoint to the low thrum of nervous conversation.
"Alright, I gotta get back," she said getting up. "My sire doesn't like me by the way." She said getting up from her seat. "She sent me away for a reason to be with Zhiliary."
The centaur glared find that strange but still didn't say anything.
Pamoen pushed back her chair, the legs screeching against the stone floor like a startled bird. She didn't glance at the centaur, now awkwardly shifting his weight in his ill-fitting trousers, nor at the cluster of other species whose whispers hung thick in the air, a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and lingering amusement at his predicament.
Her gaze was fixed on the arched doorway leading out, a rectangle of harsh, dusty sunlight slicing through the gloom of the mess hall.
She turned around to face the species. "I don't like this place. I don't like you are in this place. I wonder if this can be dismantle," she said.
Pamoen made her way through the hole, out the city, and back to the training grounds. She made it back just before sun rise at around five. There was no reason for her to get back in bed only to be up in mere minutes.
She went to the spot where she would meet Xeno, waiting for him. And soon the Omega was appoarching her, sniffing the air. He looked down at the small girl and placed his hand on her head.
He knew where she went but he wasn't going to mention it.
Zhiliary stood next to Doureena at their beach house.
"You managed to get the witches on your side?" Doureena asked.
The other Alpha nodded. "With stipulations. We can't take over Faelock or the Bayous," Zhiliary said.
Zhiliary leaned against the sun-warmed driftwood railing, below, the tide gnawed at the shore, leaving behind ribbons of foam that dissolved into damp sand.
Doureena mirrored her stance a few feet away, her gaze equally fixed on the horizon where slate-grey clouds bruised the morning sky. No words passed between them; the crash of waves filled the vacuum.
"You're going to take Nadia, right?" The ex leader of Apex said to her successor.
"I'm afraid of going against the wishes of the witches."
"Get witches who will go against them."
The words hung between them like a physical thing, thick as sea spray. Zhiliary didn't turn. Her fingers tightened on the bleached. Doureena shifted, the sand crunching faintly underfoot, the only sound beyond the relentless rhythm of the waves.
Their eyes remained locked on the distant horizon where indigo clouds bruised the pale dawn sky. Below, the tide retreated, pulling foam-streaked pebbles back into the hungry sea, leaving dark, wet fingers stretching across the sand.
She felt the tremor in Doureena's stillness beside her, the coiled tension vibrating through the shared silence. It was surreal for her to be standing next to a legend, all of Apex leaders were legends. Yet here wa Zhiliary, not by blood related to Doureena but was given the mantle to lead. Not Abel, not Derrick, not Kara but her, Zhiliary.
"They have always allied Sous," Doureena said.
"No...you don't understand, Alpha. Sous is back..."