{
  "$type": "site.standard.document",
  "canonicalUrl": "https://serpentsquiggles.neocities.org//posts/black-nerve/chimhop/02",
  "path": "/posts/black-nerve/chimhop/02",
  "publishedAt": "2022-03-01T00:00:00.000Z",
  "site": "at://did:plc:ivoe7cntxuy6at7uzmxzs2ft/site.standard.publication/3mfk6cpprzt2t",
  "textContent": "::: subchapter\n\nSmaller, with big eyes and features defined by round shapes, the nymph\nlooks up to her like the younger sibling to their elder. The refugee\nwears a look of calcined despair, of having lost everything yet gripping\nto one hope and determination. The nymph bears a look of emptiness, of\nhaving lost everything, of falling with nothing to hold on to --- like\nthey look at her from down within an ever-deepening pit. Somehow, her\nwhite eyes don't look bright.\n\nThe refugee had asked the nymph why she should let them live. A nymph\nyounger than her, and they don't have an answer.\n\nAwelah's grip on the spear slacks, and her eyes darken with pigment as\nshe looks at the nymph she's threatening. For a moment, she's not\nthere. She's in Duskroot, and she smells ash and blood. She hears the\ncrackles of baneful fire, the pleading screams. She sees death and\njudgment.\n\nThe spear lowers, but it's still pointing at the nymph.\n\n\"What are you doing out here?\"\n\n\"I am gathering mint leaves. They will serve to make a salve. A roach\nnymph had hurt their leg running from a hound.\"\n\nAwelah's messy antennae twist forward. \"Where did the roaches come\nfrom?\"\n\n\"Farmers from Duskhold. They tell me they supplied food to the\nstronghold of Duskroot, but now they flee... whatever had happened\nthere. The region is dangerous now, and they believed I would be safer\nin their company.\"\n\nAwelah lowers her spear further. The second pawn had claimed their\norders were to kill everything that crawls out of Duskroot --- and this\nnymph is not doing that.\n\n\"What's your name?\" the nymph suddenly asks.\n\nThe refugee is Awelah. \"Awelah Asetari.\"\n\nThere's a look that flickers across their face. \"I'm... I'm Makuja.\nAre you still going to kill me?\"\n\nAwelah stares. They look... pathetic. Awelah is struck by the thought\nthat if she killed defenseless Makuja, she'd be just like her.\n\"No,\" she says. \"Get up. Show me the roaches.\"\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nHere stands one of the trees left in this countryside, roots carving\ninto rock. Its branches are thick, but leafless and dead. Odd conic\nfungi grow underneath the boughs. They expand and contract as if\nbreathing.\n\nBeneath this tree, the roaches wait. The bugs are just barely bigger\nthan the nymphal diamantids. They have bright chitin, faint reds and\ngreens, and the largest pulls a small cart. They greet the mantids with\nwaving antennae, rubbing against Makuja, but keeping distance of Awelah.\n\nWhen Makuja introduces Awelah, a current of dread passes through the\nroaches, whose antennae jerk back like from shock. The roaches look\nbetween themselves, and then after a moment a matriarch kneels, followed\nby other roaches. \"Honored Asetari, we thought you had all died.\"\nNoble roaches don't stridulate with their palps; they hiss through\ntheir spiracles.\n\nMakuja asks why they would think that, and the mother roach replies that\nthe noble clan of Asetari founded the Duskroot stronghold atop an\nenchanted mountain. Four days ago that cursed storm prowled in and an\notherworldly destruction was visited upon the stronghold.\n\n\"Now Duskroot lies in ruins. Yet you are here. We thought the Asetari\nwould have died protecting it.\"\n\nThey watch Awelah silently, and she does not answer. Awelah casts her\neyes down, antennae falling over her face. There was anger to be had at\nthe insinuation, but shame, too.\n\nThe roaches turn back to hiss among themselves. Before they set off, the\nMother directs one last question to Awelah: \"We have no accommodations\nfor a vesperbane, but if you can endure that, you may accompany us.\"\n\nAwelah stares at the light green face of this roach, meeting those dark\neyes, and wonders what dwells behind them. Did she blame Awelah's clan\nfor the destruction that drove her and hers from their home? The mantis\ncould scratch some rebuttal, felt the urge --- but that face... The\nAsetari had roachservants, maids who'd practically raised Awelah. Had.\n\nWary roach eyes turn to her, hearing her silence, seeing her hands\nclench into fists. But it's not anger. Awelah had dwelt long on her\nfamily the past three days, but this touches a different, unexpected\nwound.\n\nUnable to voice a reply, the nymph simply lowers her head --- what might\nbe a single nod, or a small bow. It's a level of deference a roach\nfarmer would certainly never expect from a mantis, let alone a clan\nmantis. When the journey resumes, Awelah follows.\n\nLong stretches of the road pass with roaches humming folk songs in their\nspiracles. The pale nymph has fallen back at a distance, far behind the\nconvoy of roaches, where they cannot see her.\n\nThat night, Awelah sits on a rock while the roaches sleep. She stares\nabove, to where stars struggle to shine through a dark sky. In the\nshadows, Makuja watches her.\n\nIn the morning, the roaches serve the diamantids vegetable stew.\nUnwilling to eat it, Awelah leaves to hunt a beetle with her spear, and\nshe returns to share it with Makuja. The roaches watch this, uneasy.\n\nThey travel north across Duskhold. Language presents friction, but\nAwelah has long lived with roach servants, understands their speech well\nenough. She tells them of traveling on foot through the heaviest parts\nof wispfall, and is met with disbelief and question after question as to\nhow she survived. She doesn't mention the pawns. In return, the roaches\nfill air with stories or warnings about menacing shadows and howls of\nbeasts that haunt the nights, and dour talk of neighbors who disappeared\nall asudden. Her antennae work as she listens, recalling their nonsense\ntalk of Duskroot being \"enchanted,\" or the wispfall being\n\"otherworldly.\"\n\n:::\n\n::: {#sub-2 .subchapter}\n\nThe conversation stirs trembling anxiety in the roaches, and the pace of\ntheir walking slows. It reaches an intolerable point, and the mother\nroach calls for an end to it and leads them into a new song. They recant\nlegends of a vesperbane in a nearby land, whose will shapes the very\nearth --- this, Awelah decides, is at least believable.\n\nThe sun crosses to its apex in the sky, blocked at times by the clouds\nand wisp-masses that linger above. Awelah breaks from the roaches now,\nspear ready. Makuja comes with her, this time. Together, they venture\ninto a field of dust and leaf litter crunching like old bones. Row after\nrow of trees stand as cenotaphs to another time.\n\nAwelah catches movement and a distressed purring. They find a fuzzy\njumping spider caught in a trap, struggling to free itself. The red\nnymph steps forward, but a pale foreleg stops her.\n\n\"Are you hungry enough to eat a salticid?\" Neither nymph says it, but\ninstead speaks someone unseen.\n\n\"What choice do we have? You wanna try eating wisp-choked rations\nagain? Unodha didn't prepare us for a fucking nervestorm.\"\n\nWhen they appear, Awelah recognizes the brigandine. More pawns.\n\nThey're going to kill the jumping spider --- and they're going to try\nto kill her, if she lets them sneak up on her again. It's a fight.\n\nThe leaf litter means they can't surprise the pawns. Like the last one,\nthey wield weapons --- one a raptorial ax and another a sword. Awelah's\nskilled, but not skilled enough to fight two pawns at once. She hits one\nwith a stab through center mass, but this gives the other pawn a chance\nto come down hard with an overhead ax swing.\n\nBut Makuja lunges into Awelah, prothorax turned to take the brunt of the\nattack. Her momentum disrupts the swing, but she still gets an ax\ncarving into her.\n\nThe small nymph doesn't cry out as she falls.\n\nMakuja's sacrifice gives Awelah the chance to seize the initiative and\npush back the other pawn, but given the choice between pursuing them or\nchecking Makuja, Awelah lets them escape. Awelah kneels by Makuja's\nform, applying pressure to the wound.\n\n\"Why would you risk your life for me?\" Awelah asks.\n\n\"The way you act,\" she starts. \"You have purpose. A drive --- it would\nbe an ugly thing if you were denied the chance to fulfil it.\"\n\n\"A purpose.\" Awelah considers the words. She remembers the fire, and\nwhat burned. \"Of course I do. But what about you? You are a diamantid.\nYou are a predator, like a wolf. A wolf is strong enough to live on\ntheir own, for their own sake.\"\n\n\"Wolves hunt in packs.\"\n\nAwelah shakes her head. \"Even a packwolf wouldn't sacrifice\nthemselves.\"\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nAtop a hill, you can see the roaches wait for the mantids to return.\nWatch their antennae stretching out in concern as they spot Makuja,\nwatch her slow, ginger walk, and Awelah assisting her. Hear Awelah\ndemand something to bandage her wounds with.\n\nThe roaches, of course, ask what happened. Awelah has to explain the\nattacks from the pawns, all of them.\n\n\"Where there are pawns,\" the mother roach says, \"there are\nvesperbanes. Wretches and fiends, monsters hunting for your blood. The\nsame curse that befell the mountain hangs over you, little mantis. But\nwe... we cannot withstand more destruction, honored Asetari.\"\n\nAwelah hears the request in between the words. Please go. The refugee's\neyes darken, and she stands, and she leaves.\n\nShe splits from the path, and walks back into the dead forest of grave\ntrees. She hears a crunch behind her. Someone following her.\n\nIt's Makuja.\n\n\"What are we doing now?\" the smaller nymph asks.\n\n\"I'm done being hounded, put on the backfoot by these pawns. What are\nwe doing?\" Awelah echoes. \"We are wolves. We will hunt.\"\n\nThe leaf litter makes tracking the footsteps of the pawn easy. They\ncross out to the other side of the forest. The edge of the forest\noverlooks a hill that rolls down to a craggy expanse dotted with pools\nand streams. They smell the lingering scent of smoke from a fire.\n\nA camp. \"There could be more than one remaining,\" the pale nymph says.\n\nMakuja asks if they're still going to hunt them.\n\n\"Of course. But we need a plan,\" Awelah says. \"The camp must be\nhidden among the rocks, but it is nearby. Wait until dusk, and then\nstrike from the shadows.\" Awelah looks at Ma",
  "title": "A Nymph and a Trap"
}