The Gift of Volkeye by Marque Strickland, Wrinklegus PoisonTongue Page B

stories.”
    Asha frowned, trying to remember if she’d thrown it away. She went digging around and found that she hadn’t. She went inside a wooden chest in the corner and unwrapped a miniature version of the large sculpture on the table.
    “Here, give this to her,” Asha said. “This is my mock up. Take it…I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
    “Whoa, thanks!”
    Khyeryn observed the mini sculpture—it matched the large one down to the last detail. The only difference with the one he held was that DyNavah’s cloak was painted blue, as opposed to red in the big one.
    “You’re very welcome, love.”
    Curious, Khyeryn looked around the room, knowing that Asha had more than just one hobby.
    “Any new guns?”
    “No, not this time, dear. I’ve been too busy with the new sculpture.”
    As in love with Asha as Zynathian was this was one aspect of her persona that he could’ve done without. Besides being a sculptress, she was an armour and weaponsmith, specializing in guns and explosives. Unbeknownst to her, there was no soul in the whole of Elum that could match her ability. Zynathian, however, wasn’t as naive about her talent as she was. From the first moment that she showed him her work, he knew that (in an unsettling sense) Asha, too, was a genius.
    She made a good living off her weapons sales and combat training in Rhameeryla, as most of her neighbours were stocking up for their imaginary revolution against Phyllamon Xyecah. Thinking that the town’s people lacked the conviction of their words, Asha trained them merely to quell their insecurity. However, she made sure to keep her own gunmanship up to par.
    Khyeryn smiled at Asha. “My father doesn’t like your guns, does he?”
    “It’s not the guns themselves that he has a problem with. It’s the fact that if danger ever came in the direction of someone I love, rather than running, I’d more than likely blow that danger’s head off. Zynathian doesn’t want violence around me, that’s all.” She sighed with affection.
    “I don’t blame him. You could get hurt or worse, and what would the world do without one of its greatest souls?”
    Asha smiled.
    “Thank you, hon,” she said and kissed his forehead. “You better take Lynnie’s present and scoot. I promise not to say anything, but no more leaving the house without permission…and definitely not without Lyn Sha! You hear me, boy? You know the rule!”
    Beware the bald man with the unibrow! How could he forget it? He’d been reciting it since he was able to talk.
    “Yes, Mother .” Khyeryn smiled, shaking his head.
    He grabbed the sculpture, padded it with several pieces of fluffy cloth that Asha gave him, and stuffed it in his canvas sack. Khyeryn wrapped himself up again then ran and hugged Asha.
    “I’ll see you soon, okay…and if you hear from Teshunua, tell him that I miss him and to contact us as soon as he gets back.”
    “Okay, Khye. Be good.”
    “Come on, butthead…I’ll walk you out,” Bahzee said, grabbing her coat.
    When they opened the door, a frigid gust of wind blew inside, and Asha waved, running to take cover from the wind.
    “Sorry, Mom,” Bahzee said, pulling the door shut.
    It had gotten very cold over the last few hours. The air howled and wisped through the trees of the forest, and the clouds were so dark, Mother Nature looked as if she was about to raise hell.
    Bahzee and Khyeryn stood amazed at the eeriness of the day. To two people, who’d just come from the inside of a home filled with love and warmth, the elements that they met upon opening the door seemed quite strange. Anyone superstitious would’ve said that the mood of the day was a perfect complement to the horrible cascade of events that would manifest over the next five minutes.
    Jalum, awake and impatient now, gave a loud squawk in the kids’ direction, which they understood as “Hello…it’s nice to see you, Baz, but Khyeryn and I really need to get moving! Get your ass over here,