Jhenigi sank gratefully into the lake, the cool water a welcome relief from the oppressive heat and humidity of an early Geshem day.  Their surroundings were unfamiliar, and the weather uncomfortable, but it beat crawling around after Nauxha, relying on some strange chirping device to tell them if their next steps would send them plummeting into a hidden crevasse and to their deaths.

     Their current outing was… unusual.  The colony had been expecting a supply drop from DPIP, medical supplies and equipment whose names meant nothing to Jhenigi, but the parachute had been caught out in a storm and blown all the way to Mireh.  Miru had insisted the supplies were too important to abandon, and so here they were, searching for their lost supplies in the middle of the plains.  Nauxha, whose blue form stood behind him, ankle-deep in water, was in charge of the mission and their devices, while he and the fast-growing Izhuras had been sent to accompany her.

     Though he’d been passed between two colonies now, Jhenigi had never been to Mireh before.  It was the furthest away from Rekes one could be, at least while remaining on B’Av

     Jhenigi slitted his eyes against the harsh sunlight and gazed over at Jhenigi.  The tark’ee slithered along the far end of the lake, a distance of clear blue water and pebbled shore between them.  Behind them was the magnificent vista of Mireh’s rolling green hills, and beyond a pale violet sky dotted with big, fluffy clouds.  She stopped by the edge of the water to peer at the way the ripples distorted her expression, curious.

     “Nauxha?”

     “Mm?”

     Jhenigi turned around in the water to look at her.  “How’s our progress?  Do you think we can afford to stay here, for a little while?”

     The older tsabhua paused for a moment, thinking, and then her eyes went sharp and focused on something past his shoulder.  Jhenigi craned his neck backwards awkwardly, trying to see what had caught her attention.

     Oh.

     On the other side of the lake, a light brown tsabhua stood, staring back at them.  He did not recognize them and, more worryingly, Izhuras did not seem to have noticed him.  The crimson tark’ee was still gazing at her reflection.  She did not see that a potential threat stood not a few bounds away.

     Jhenigi stood up from the lake and trotted over to stand at Nauxha’s side.  She hadn’t moved, yet, still facing off with the stranger.  “Do you know him?”

     “I’m not sure.  Let’s go.”

     Nauxha moved along the lakeshore at a canter, not waiting to see if Jhenigi followed, heading towards Izhuras and the stranger.  He gaped after her, shuffled his feet, and darted after her with a sigh.  He did not like the idea of confronting some strange tsabhua, but of course they couldn’t leave poor Izhuras on her own… and, privately, he did not like the idea of being left alone.

     Izhuras turned towards them as they approached, clearly puzzled by them being in such a hurry.  “Is something wrong?”

     “You’re safe?  Good.”  Nauxha looked the tark’ee up and down until she was satisfied.  Izhuras’ health had always been fragile, so Jhenigi understood the concern.  Finished checking in on their travelling companion, she turned and approached the stranger, stopping once there was only a tsab’s length between them.

     In all that time, the stranger had not moved, only watched them.  Jhenigi ducked out from behind Nauxha to get a better look.  They had brown fur splashed with white markings, and a pair of bright green eyes which flashed in the daylight.  Now that he was closer, Jhenigi thought he was a bull—and an impressive one at that, muscular and nearly as tall as Nauxha.  He looked away quickly when the stranger met his gaze, flustered.

     Nauxha was not so moved.  “Is this your tribe’s territory, stranger?  We did not mean to trespass.”

     He did not answer immediately, though Jhenigi got the unsettling feeling that, far from being nervous, he was still assessing the small group.  “I have no tribe.”

     “Ah.  What is your name, then?”

     Izhuras came up beside Jhenigi, and rested her head on his shoulder to watch the two large tsabhua talk.

     “Samoset,” the stranger said.  He then glanced over at where Jhenigi and Izhuras stood, “are they your tribe?”

     “No.  We have no tribe, either; we’re from the Zagreus-15 colony, in Rekes,” Nauxha turned their home’s strange name into something legible in their tongue with ease.  Oh, how he envied that skill; he was always stumbling over both his feet and words.

     Samoset’s expression somehow managed to become even more closed-off.  “Colonists.”  His intonation was flat and almost without emotion, but Jhenigi picked up on his disdain.  He knew many Xiunus natives did not like DPIP’s presence on their planet, and had some misgivings himself, but the reaction did make his heart sink, a little.

     Nauxha sighed.  “Indeed.  We’re out searching for a lost supply pod; it would have crashed nearby.  We make no claim to this lake; you are welcome to the water here.”

     He didn’t move immediately, just watched them through narrowed eyes.  When no one stepped in to stop him or say ‘just kidding, we’ll be killing you now,’ he slowly made his way towards the lake’s edge, and crouched down to drink.  He kept himself at an angle where he could still look at them while he drank.

     “He’s like you and Nauxha,” Izhuras whispered, her head still rested on Jhenigi’s shoulder.  The young tark’ee’s voice was full of wonder.

     “Oh, well,” he blinked, flustered again, “he’s much bigger than I am.”

     When Samoset finished drinking and saw they were still there, he huffed at them, glancing back and forth between each member of the group.  Jhenigi smiled hopefully, “if, um, you don’t have anywhere to go—our colony is rather small, still.  You could come back with us.”

     The lone tsabhua shook himself, scattering droplets of water, and said, “I must hunt.  Farewell.”

     With that, Samoset left, walking off into the rolling hills which surrounded the lake.

     Well, Jhenigi thought to himself, disappointed.  That could have gone better.