Rasque, Tarasque: Chapter 3 (Free with Sign Up)
Craning, then elongating his neck, Alexei dipped his head below the leaves. The camp, almost invisible from the next tree over, was slightly easier to observe as a web of shadows lit by filtered starlight.
Alexei watched from the great, green, rolling, and star-lit expanse of leaves. A leaf over his body camouflaged him, protecting him against nocturnal birds. He paused with the low, creaking sway of the branches and shifted his weight to a long, spidery arm in time with that sway. His profusion of elongated limbs allowed him to spread his weight and climb in the upper canopy's thinnest and most delicate branches. Craning, then elongating his neck, he dipped his head below the leaves. The camp, almost invisible from the next tree over, was slightly easier to observe as a web of shadows lit by filtered starlight.
Glimmers of firelight flared from the cracks in a black screen of sewed leaves as tall as a man. The camp had been easier to track by smell than by sight, as an acrid odor suffused the smoke. Fleta stirred fitfully in her cocoon of arms, and Alexei wondered how her people could sleep with that awful smoke. Fleta's people seemed to need lots of sleep, but if the smoke discouraged giant beasts from eating them, they probably learned to tolerate it.
These strangers of Fleta's realm camped on nets spread wide across the thin branches of the high canopy. About ten slept in a few different clusters, whatever the thin branches would support. Another two stood apart, moving around the camp or checking the fire, clearly on watch. The configuration was odd: the sleepers sprawled out through the camp so that the watchers couldn't keep them all in view at the same time—bad planning. Someone was likely to disappear. No one from the Deathless Faire would be so careless about sleeping.
Darkness smothered the details of the camp. The camp had tied many of their packs in a bunch at the base of a thicker limb. Still, the watchers would occasionally kneel in a way that suggested they were removing items from loose packs within the camp. Which of these packs contained the seeds that opened the Gate, if any of them did, was impossible to tell. If they were important, perhaps Fleta's people would keep them tied to the tree trunk to ensure they didn't fall. Or maybe a pack was hidden in the shadow of a sleeping body, unwilling to let the precious cargo out of reach. Or perhaps such precious cargo was in a more intimate container: a pouch around the neck. Alexei would only know where to look for the seed keys once he was practically in the camp.
Alexei climbed closer.
The watchers did not look up. Perhaps they expected the canopy to protect them from giant birds and the birds to protect them from predators. They did not expect a creature like Alexei, who could change forms and was clever enough to use camouflage. He could let himself down into one of their blindspots, like the human spider he resembled. Of course, he would have to do something about the watchers before they spotted him. He flexed a long arm, instantly turning it into a blade and back. He hadn't used a blade arm in a fight yet, but he wasn't worried. It felt… natural.
Fleta sneezed and woke.
Instinctually, Alexei pulled his limbs close to his body in a defensive stance. Still, his skinny branch was overwhelmed by the sudden concentration of weight. The branch tilted and dipped towards the firelight while the watchers scrambled at the noise and roused the sleepers. Alexei dropped Fleta down on the camp net. He retracted his spidery limbs and resumed his usual approximation of a human form. When the watchers lifted the fire screen to shed light on the two, they saw a blinking, yawning Fleta, pale pink and freckled cheeks rouged with dim flickers of escaped firelight. Next to her, the Gate man stood, awkwardly hiding an extra pair of arms behind his back, two mouths grimacing.
