Vast, Our World and Our Resolve - Chapter Twenty-two
Story by Shotgun FIshing on SoFurry
The flames of conflict evaporate to reveal an even brighter flame.
A sensation of being suspended beneath water greeted Martin as he came to. His head swam and muffled sounds washed toward him in ebbing and flowing waves. Martin lifted his head as he heard a thump, a yell, and then pain—his own pain, throbbing pain as if all the blood in his body were trying to rush through his skull. He squinted his eyes closed as his senses slowly returned to normal. The relaxation he had felt before falling unconscious was replaced by a raging return of his fight-or-flight response, and his eyes snapped open in realization of the events that had occurred just prior to losing consciousness.
He saw the giant faun, the bastard who had choked him out, wielding Namo’s machete like the human might wield a steak knife, back facing him. Strangely, the faun bore a tattoo between his shoulders of several parallel lines of varying widths and what looked like Arabic numerals, though the significance of such a utilitarian tattoo was lost on the dizzy man. Perhaps three meters away, Namo crouched, pleading for her life in her own tongue. With two large paces, the larger faun had closed the distance, bellowing a curse, or a similar string of expletives, perhaps, back at her. Martin didn’t have the strength to stand, but he knew he could do something; he had to do something. Still feeling more pins and needles in his hands than anything else, he fumbled for his revolver in the holster at his waist. As he clumsily grabbed the revolver from its holster, the goliath in front of him grabbed Namo’s left arm and pinned it behind her, brandishing her own knife against her throat. The faun cried out again in protest.
Martin cocked the hammer of his single-action revolver, leveling at where he guessed the giant’s heart might be through his back, and pulled the trigger. An empty click. Swearing to himself, he cocked the hammer again, aimed, and fired.
With a resounding crack, the lizard-birds in the immediate vicinity that had nested in the trees in the evening fled, startled from their roosts by the violence occurring below.
The giant faun lurched forward and unhanded the woman as the bullet impacted him in the upper back. He spun in a circle to face Martin. Steadying his aim as best he could through the throbbing pain of feeling returning to his limbs, the human cocked the hammer again, and pressed the trigger, as a second round exploded forth from his revolver. With a groan, the giant faun slumped forward, dropping to a knee as the second bullet lodged in his chest. He faltered for a moment, but began a charge headfirst toward Martin’s supinated form. Martin cocked the hammer a third time, and pulled the trigger.
CRACK!
The third round made purchase within the faun’s skull, passing through the snout and into his brain case, leaving a clean but nevertheless grisly entry wound. As the round wreaked havoc inside the giant’s gray matter, Martin determined three rounds of his revolver’s caliber sufficed to cause a faun of his giant size to slump lifelessly to the ground. The momentum from the faun’s interrupted charge carried him him sliding toward the man through the mud, for a few dozen centimeters anyway, before his lifeless corpse skidded to an unceremonious halt along the trail.
Martin’s arm faltered and he dropped the revolver into his lap, his head aching too much to keep his eyes open and arm raised. He panted, realizing after a moment that his panting wasn’t the only breathing he heard. His eyes snapped back open. “Namo!”
The man tried to stand, but Namo had already closed the distance between them. She knelt in front of him, and for an instant, they stared at each other, breaths in near synchronization. Without warning, the faun grabbed both sides of his head in her muddy hands, forcefully pulling his head against her lips, locking with Martin’s. Though surprised as he was initially, he quickly melted into the soft, warm sensation of her snout, as her breath lanced across his nose and beard. The throbbing in his head ceased, the pounding in his ears went silent, and the fuzziness in his limbs dissipated, replaced by an upwelling of butterflies he felt would erupt from his mouth were his lips not sealed against the faun’s. Eyes closed, he lifted a hand against hers, relishing in the parallel contact of their hands and lips. He tasted a faint metallic taste, unmistakably blood. Hers? His? He tasted desperation—Definitely both of theirs, he pieced together through the fervid mashing of the lips. The ordeal was brief, messy, and explosive, like uncorking a mud-covered bottle of champagne.
But as abruptly as the kiss began, it ended. Namo recollected herself, backing away a half-step before throwing her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re safe, Maa’ko,” she said, composure crumbling like a calving glacier. Her shoulders shuddered against him as she wept silently, awkwardly hunched over the sprawled human.
Martin gently removed her grasp from his shoulders, scooping his legs up from underneath him and finding the strength to stand. His faun companion was covered in mud, her hair was frizzy, a line of slowly crimson dripped a tiny trickle down her neck, and tears matted her cheeks, but in that moment she was the most beautiful woman on Penelopeia. A dozen unspoken utterances threatened to break free from Martin’s lips.
I’m glad you’re safe too.
Thank you for saving my life.
Are you hurt?
Can I kiss you again?
The words were too much for him to articulate.
He pulled her in for another kiss. Their lips met as the pattering rain soaked through their muddy clothing.
END of PART ONE