Half a Tunnelsnake

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 28th March 2007

Characters: Cyrek, Mariss
Description: Trouble leaves a little present for Mariss
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 2, day 27 of Turn 4

"Daaaaaaaaaaa! He did it _again_!"

The cry made Cyrek cringe. He and Mariss had returned from dinner moments in anticipation of a nice, quiet evening. There was no fire here at Amber Hills Hold for him to prop up his feet near, but there was a rather comfortable chair and a book from the library in his hands. The cover was soft red hide, and he put it aside regretfully as his daughter stormed out of her room. "I'm sure that he didn't..
mean it..."

"Your stupid flit put a dead tunnelsnake on my pillow." Mariss put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "This is the second time this week. It's disgusting!"

"He means well-" Cyrek began.

"How does leaving a dead flit on my pillow 'mean well'?!"

"I'm sure that he thought that you would like it," the Steward said firmly. "Flits are sensitive to emotions. He doesn't like it when you're upset."

"Yeah, well, if he doesn't enjoy ticking me off, then why does he leave dead animals on my _bed_?" Mariss asked.

Cyrek sighed. "It's a gift, and a not very graciously received one."

"It's oozed all over my pillow. I'm going to have to ask Zelanka for another one. For the _second_time_this_week_." Mariss scowled -
Zelanka was frugal, and this was a waste of good pillow material.
She'd probably get in trouble for it. Again.

The Steward was silent for a moment. "I guess I'd better go get rid of it."

"Yes, you should! Trouble's _your_ flit." And aptly named. Trouble had been dubbed 'Flare' when he first hatched, but the latter moniker seemed to fit better. The chair was comfortable and the book was calling, but Cyrek did the fatherly thing and left his creature comforts to pick up a stinky dead animal.

Mariss followed him into her room and pointed at her pillow - as if he couldn't see it. Cyrek raised an eyebrow. "It's only half a tunnelsnake."

"It's the disgusting half."

"I wonder where the other half went?" he mused as he used the edge of the pillowcase as an impromptu glove.

Mariss shook her head, and her dark braid whipped from side to side like a runner's tail. "I don't know. I don't care, either. Trouble probably ate it. He's getting fat again."

"You always say that," Cyrek said, but not without a twinge of guilt.
His daughter was right - the little bronze was rather pudgy. "That's because I'm right! He'll be too fat to fly soon. Although..."
Mariss brightened. "If he's too fat to fly, then he's too fat to catch tunnelsnakes to bury in my blankets!"

Cyrek shook his head and finished rolling the little corpse into the pillowcase. The pillow lay bare on the bed; Mariss was right, the tunnelsnake _had_ oozed a greenish-yellow stain onto the coarse linen. Mariss gave it a pointed look, and her father sighed. "Yes, I'll take that to the laundry for you. I'll be back shortly, love."

"Thank you, Da." Mariss stood on tip-toe to kiss his cheek as he left, and he was smiling in spite of himself. The halls were thankfully a little on the quiet side that evening, so it was easy enough to stuff the pillow into a laundry chute without anyone seeing it and asking awkward questions. The tunnelsnake half he'd dump outside on the manure pile.

This was new behavior for Trouble - and, unsurprisingly, the flit was nowhere around so that he could be scolded. Cyrek tried to call him but to no avail. Trouble was too smart for that.

The late evening air seemed a relief after the cool, albeit somewhat stuffy, inside of the Hold. Cyrek found himself whistling tunelessly as he headed around the barns to the manure pile. Trouble was, well, _trouble_, but in the grand scheme of things, a half a dead tunnelsnake was better than a living one.

The manure pile was a heap of runner dung and straw that baked in the sun and steamed all night long. Cyrek wrinkled his nose as the wind shifted and brought him a whiff. It smelled different. Not as runnerish. He dismissed the stray thought and unrolled the pillowcase to toss the half a tunnelsnake onto the pile. That was his intention, anyway - the tunnelsnake's exposed greenish entrails and fat had dried to the fabric. The Steward made a face and threw the entire thing onto the heap disturbing a cloud of flies that buzzed into the air angrily. Zelanka might not approve, but he would hate to be the poor woman who had to wash _that_ stain out.

A flash of scales caught his eye; Cyrek turned back to the manure pile, frowning. It took him a moment to distinguish the shapes in the straw and droppings, but they were there - at least a half dozen dead tunnelsnakes. Most were fairly fresh, but two or three were beginning to fall apart. **How odd,** Cyrek thought. **Hopefully this isn't where Trouble got Mariss' gift.**

The dead vermin were driven from his thoughts by a good book and a comfortable chair by the time he returned to his apartment. Mariss looked up as he entered, smiling. Trouble was on her lap getting scratched; apparently they'd made up. And they were sitting in _his_
chair. "Thank you, Da! I love you." She blew him a kiss and batted her eyelashes.

Cyrek sighed - there was no way that he'd get his chair back now, even if he had the steel to ask for it. How was it that his daughter could make him remove dead critters from _her_ bed and still make him feel guilty about it?! He settled onto the couch instead and tried not to feel resentful as Mariss played peek-a-boo with Trouble in the chair cushions.

When he went to bed that night, he discovered that Mariss had stolen his pillow. **So much for talking to Zelanka tonight,** he thought dourly as he bunched a sweater up to put under his head. A rustle of wings in the dark heralded Trouble's arrival, and a moment later a heavy, warm weight settled himself behind his knees. Cyrek smiled. Trouble and Mariss would be the death of him, but he wouldn't want it any other way.

Last updated on the March 28th 2007

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Half a Tunnelsnake