prospector know no bounds! We’re canny buggers when roused!” The old man was unperturbed by heckling. “Came out of the whole deal down by one leg, but up by a ten kilo satchel full of silver chunks, and a hand-held healing machine!”
Samuels cleared his throat. “Which broke thirty seconds after it supposedly cauterized your leg.”
“A hand held healing machine!” Uncle Toby was triumphant. “Best salvage you ever clapped those bird brained eyes of yours on!”
The two old men cleared the dishes, arguing with one another all the while. Kitterpokkie leaned over as genteelly as she could, and murmured into Snapper’s ear.
“How exactly did the gentleman lose his leg?”
“To a dozen Chompers, like the man says!” The shark stretched, fluffing her long hair out behind her. “An unenhanced story is like an unpolished jewel! Buff it up, and it’s the same substance – just has the facets all sparkling.”
Samuels came past, and heaved a heavy sigh.
“Pay no attention to either of them, my dear. We students of the truth are long suffering.” The raven placed towels upon the back of an old string chair. “Jemima my dear! I imagine you will be wanting a bath? And your friend as well, I trust.” The man placed a scrubbing brush, a bottle of oil and a long yellow bar of home made soap beside the towels. “Leave your laundry in the basket.”
“Ah.” Kitterpokkie plucked at her travel stained clothing. “I may perhaps have to merely rinse these out and wear them wet…”
Throckmorton advanced his little pack of luggage.
“You may have my handkerchief.”
Snapper patted the plant. “That’s ok. She can borrow some of my gear.”
“You do not look to be the same design.” The plant peered from one female to the other. “You are taller, with larger upper swelling.”
Snapper puffed out her chest somewhat. “Well, we can knot her a shirt or something.!”
“Also she is not as fat.”
“Hmm.” The shark regarded the plant across her spectacle rims. “Why don’t you just… manure yourself, or whatever you do. Hang out with a few bees or something.” Somewhat annoyed, the shark led the way to the bath house. “Come on Kitt, I’ll get the chip heater going. Let’s lose ten kilos of dirt.”
The bath was an absolute godsend. Kitterpokkie soaked in the great big tub – a concrete cylinder scavenged from somewhere or other by the industrious household of prospectors. It utterly restored her, seeping into her very chitin. She lazed for a wonderful long while, finally emerging to find some lengths of purple cloth waiting for her beside her towel. She contrived a skirt, and a band about her breasts, wandering out and feeling a wonderful sleepy good will.
Snapper came plodding towards the bath house, having re-stoked the heater and replaced the water. She sent dusty clothing sailing into the laundry basket, and clambered naked into the tub, wincing as she found the water just a touch too hot. She eased her nethers into the water in stages, finally sliding in and utterly disappearing beneath the surface. She remained underwater for so long that Kitterpokkie felt quite alarmed. The mantis had started half way back towards the bath when Snapper quietly surfaced and let out a huge sigh of joy. The shark swam about for ages, then set to work upon her skin with soap and scrubbing brush.
“Hey! Once we’re dry, we should head down the pub!”
“The pub?” Kitterpokkie had never been a great aficionado of her local village tavern. After so long on the road, she was keen to eat a decent dinner and find a bed that was free of rocks and bug-mice. “The pub, you say?”
“Yeah! The wagon guys owe me drinks! And we can tell folks about the Screamers. Which makes us heroes. Which means even more drinks!”
“Ah.”
“Total win-win!” The shark untied her ear plaits, then began lathering up her hair. “The food’s great up there! They do a great bug-gazie pie!”
Snapper finally
Samuels cleared his throat. “Which broke thirty seconds after it supposedly cauterized your leg.”
“A hand held healing machine!” Uncle Toby was triumphant. “Best salvage you ever clapped those bird brained eyes of yours on!”
The two old men cleared the dishes, arguing with one another all the while. Kitterpokkie leaned over as genteelly as she could, and murmured into Snapper’s ear.
“How exactly did the gentleman lose his leg?”
“To a dozen Chompers, like the man says!” The shark stretched, fluffing her long hair out behind her. “An unenhanced story is like an unpolished jewel! Buff it up, and it’s the same substance – just has the facets all sparkling.”
Samuels came past, and heaved a heavy sigh.
“Pay no attention to either of them, my dear. We students of the truth are long suffering.” The raven placed towels upon the back of an old string chair. “Jemima my dear! I imagine you will be wanting a bath? And your friend as well, I trust.” The man placed a scrubbing brush, a bottle of oil and a long yellow bar of home made soap beside the towels. “Leave your laundry in the basket.”
“Ah.” Kitterpokkie plucked at her travel stained clothing. “I may perhaps have to merely rinse these out and wear them wet…”
Throckmorton advanced his little pack of luggage.
“You may have my handkerchief.”
Snapper patted the plant. “That’s ok. She can borrow some of my gear.”
“You do not look to be the same design.” The plant peered from one female to the other. “You are taller, with larger upper swelling.”
Snapper puffed out her chest somewhat. “Well, we can knot her a shirt or something.!”
“Also she is not as fat.”
“Hmm.” The shark regarded the plant across her spectacle rims. “Why don’t you just… manure yourself, or whatever you do. Hang out with a few bees or something.” Somewhat annoyed, the shark led the way to the bath house. “Come on Kitt, I’ll get the chip heater going. Let’s lose ten kilos of dirt.”
The bath was an absolute godsend. Kitterpokkie soaked in the great big tub – a concrete cylinder scavenged from somewhere or other by the industrious household of prospectors. It utterly restored her, seeping into her very chitin. She lazed for a wonderful long while, finally emerging to find some lengths of purple cloth waiting for her beside her towel. She contrived a skirt, and a band about her breasts, wandering out and feeling a wonderful sleepy good will.
Snapper came plodding towards the bath house, having re-stoked the heater and replaced the water. She sent dusty clothing sailing into the laundry basket, and clambered naked into the tub, wincing as she found the water just a touch too hot. She eased her nethers into the water in stages, finally sliding in and utterly disappearing beneath the surface. She remained underwater for so long that Kitterpokkie felt quite alarmed. The mantis had started half way back towards the bath when Snapper quietly surfaced and let out a huge sigh of joy. The shark swam about for ages, then set to work upon her skin with soap and scrubbing brush.
“Hey! Once we’re dry, we should head down the pub!”
“The pub?” Kitterpokkie had never been a great aficionado of her local village tavern. After so long on the road, she was keen to eat a decent dinner and find a bed that was free of rocks and bug-mice. “The pub, you say?”
“Yeah! The wagon guys owe me drinks! And we can tell folks about the Screamers. Which makes us heroes. Which means even more drinks!”
“Ah.”
“Total win-win!” The shark untied her ear plaits, then began lathering up her hair. “The food’s great up there! They do a great bug-gazie pie!”
Snapper finally
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