Fenn's boots dragged through the hot sand as he stumbled forward through the desert wastes. His right boot had a hole in it, and the powdery grains grinded between his toes with every step he took. He felt like his body couldn't sweat fast enough to keep up with the blazing sun above.
"Starting to wish we didn't make it outta the oasis, huh?" he mumbled ruefully to the little wooden idol strung around his neck, a crude carving of a man whose hands were clasped in prayer. "But, y'know, you're the one who always tells us... better to die of thirst on our feet than drown on our knees in sugarwater, right? Or somethin' like that?"
The little idol of Saint Juniper had nothing to say in reply.
Fenn laughed, but his laughter was hoarse. "Some help you are."
Fenn had plenty of water, but he felt like he was about to pass out from heatstroke. He needed coolness. He needed a chance to rest. And he needed shelter. The sun would be setting soon, and then the coyotemaids would be coming back out to play. He didn't want to be out in the middle of nowhere when they did.
His eyes had been scanning the horizon all day every time he crested the dunes, searching for the specks of green that might mark the riverline, and so he almost didn't notice the tracks right in front of him. His boot scraped through one, and then he noticed the next.
Fenn stopped short, squinting down at his feet.
Wavy, tapering lines were drawn through the sands. They looked like... like wind-ripples, almost. They were about the width of two of his boots heel-to-toe at their widest point, and stretched about as long as he was tall. Each line was separated about a meter from the last.
Fenn's eyes traveled along the length of one, noting the little J-shaped hook it performed before continuing to the next ripple. And the next. They continued up the dune and farther off into the desert, directly across his path.
Fenn glanced at the idol with a raised eyebrow. "Well. Is this your way of apologizing, or is it a punishment? What do you suppose made tracks like that?"
His god had nothing of use to say.
Fenn rolled his eyes, tucked the idol under his collar, and started walking. He had no idea where the trail might lead, but it had to be something
living
, and it wasn't an oasis nymph or a coyotemaid. That was good enough. The tracks led up an especially towering dune, and he'd have to basically crabwalk to make any headway, but any sign of life was hope right now.
* * *
The shadows descending over Fenn were almost as much a relief as the water cascading down his shoulders, soaking his curly hair and washing sweat and salt and sand from his stinging skin. It soaked his clothes, too, but that was fine. This place was a blessing, and he hadn't seen any nymphs yet, but that didn't mean he was about to disrobe for an unknown audience.
The tracks had led him to a small oasis--much smaller than the one he'd escaped--shaded by tall, sprawling juniper trees. The trees here were twisted and contorted, their trunks rising and falling in serpentine shapes suggesting a stubborn centuries-old battle against the winds.
And best of all, a shrine to the Selfish Traveler, Saint Juniper, had been placed at the grove's center with an ancient--but functioning-- sacred water pump. He'd had just enough left in his waterskin to prime it, and now he could take his first semi-shower in weeks.
He released the pump, setting his idol in the shrine's hollow for now amongst a dozen similar idols of varying levels of quality and material, and made his way over to one of the juniper trees. He chose one with especially large and tangled roots for ideal seating space.
As Fenn's knees gratefully folded, he let out a weary sigh with a wordless prayer folded into it. He could just make out the sky through the trees, and the sun was just starting to set, creating a wildfire haze of golds and crimsons across the western sky.
He'd make camp here, then continue on at first light. Finally, a bit of luck.
"Oh," a soft voice whispered, as close and intimate as if it were right in his ear. "Well,
hello
, there, traveler."
A delicate rattle filled the air.
Fenn's head shot to the right, then to the left, then straight up.
A beautiful woman watched him from the treetops. Her hair, long and flowing in elegant loops over her shoulders and done up in the back in a loose ponytail, was a dark, burnt umber. Pale horns rose from scaly arches above her forehead. Her massive golden eyes contained slender slit pupils that watched him with keen interest, and her...
... her lower body, he noted, quickly looking away from those eyes and dodging past barely-covered curves, tapered into a massive, ponderous serpent's tail, covered in millions of sandy-brown keratin scales overlapping more tightly than the plates of fairy mail.
Pale sky-blue lips curved upward in a smile. At the tip of her slowly uncoiling tail, a large winding rattle flicked and vibrated.
She was smaller than he'd heard lamias could be. Her coils were now emerging from the sands, allowing him to see they were wound around the trunk of the largest juniper in the grove. She'd been sprawled upon one of the low-hanging branches, apparently sleeping. He just hadn't noticed because her scales blended in so well with the bark--and her translucent blue wrap-over top, embroidered with delicate scale patterns, blended in with the clusters of blue berries hanging from the branches everywhere.
Fenn stumbled to his feet and hurried several paces back. His heart was racing. He fumbled for his hood and lowered it, bowing his head slightly. "S-Sorry, Miss, ah--I didn't see you, I didn't--"
"Miss?" The lamia giggled. The rattling grew louder as her coils continued to unspool from around the tree trunk. "Oh, I'm no Miss. No
formalitiesss
needed, in fact. You can call me
Talisssme
." The name spilled from her forked tongue soft and indulgent as a kiss. "But who might you be, traveler?"
Fenn swallowed. Keeping his gaze firmly on his feet, he said, "My name's Fenn, Son of Hinnec. I'm very sorry to have intruded, M--Talisme."
"Why are you bowing your head? I'm no goddess, sweet treat." Talisme laughed. Her coils rattled.
"It's... well, they say the eyes of a lamia can be frightfully hypnotic, Talisme." Fenn felt instinctively in his gut that he must not show fear here. It was like how you never ran from a catamount. He kept his voice level and his eyes lowered.
Talisme was silent for a moment. "Well, that's nothing to fuss over. I'm a sidewinder, Fenn. You see how small I am?"
"You're still... not exactly unimpressive, Talisme." Fenn flushed, realizing how that sounded. "I-I mean, you're still... a sight bigger than I, are you? What with the tail..."
"Mm. But the venom in my eyes is much weaker." Talisme suddenly plunged down, catching his gaze before he could react. Her eyes sparkled like campfire coals. "You see?"
Fenn blinked rapidly. He looked away quickly, then, after a moment, looked back.
Her eyes were spiraling, but... the swirls were subtle. They were a gentle mix of golds and honey-reds, and the spiraling was so slow, one wouldn't even notice at a distant glance, even with how big her eyes were.
They were pretty, but... he felt no especially strong draw to stare. At least not yet.
And she
was
small by lamia standards. Not too small to wrap someone up, but she wasn't actually that much thicker than an ordinary anaconda snake.
His shoulders relaxed slightly, though he still took a firm step back. If he could safely keep an eye on where her gaze was pointed, that'd probably be for the best. It might help him anticipate a lunge. "Right. You're right, Mi--Talisme."
"I'm always right." Talisme smirked. "Gods of wind, though, were you afraid of me just now?"
"No," he said quickly. "I've just... never met a sidewinder lamia before. How do you...?"
Talisme finished unspooling from the tree, and now she rose upright before him, her serpentine lower body trailing after her in a languid S-shape. She gave a leisurely stretch, and Fenn's paths of thought hit the side of a mountain.
Talisme was short and slender--as a human, she'd probably be no taller than five feet--but 'slight' did not feel like the right word for her. Her figure was taut and wiry, but that top visibly strained to contain--and only barely concealed--the absurd curves of her figure.
The stretch was slow and sensual, punctuated with soft, heavy breaths, as if every little
pop
and
crack
gave her almost sexual pleasure. He felt like he shouldn't be staring.
Talisme straightened and smiled at him. Her coils undulated and slithered to and fro, and she bobbed to the side, her tail leaving faint, familiar tracks in the sand. Whenever she bobbed, her tail rattled, creating almost a music to her movements.
"There's no need to pretend you're not
ssscared
." She giggled. "Most intelligent
thingsss
are.
It'sss jussst inssstinctive
." Her whole sinuous body twisted and swayed as she slithered farther to the side, sidewinding in a lazy circle around him. "I'm a
sssnake
, and you're a prey animal.
Sssimple.
"
Fenn licked his lips. "Humans are... predators, too, you know."
"Really?" She cocked her head thoughtfully. "But they're
sssooo... sssoft
."
Talisme looked very soft, too. Fenn didn't say that.
"Anyways," he managed, "you don't, ah,
eat
