Free Bastial Explosion (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 3) by B.T. Narro Page A

he was going for his eyes.
    Ruskir easily kicked Grayol off him, the little Krepp soaring a few feet before slamming into one wall of the hut. For a moment, her home threatened to topple inward. Then it appeared to hold.
    Zeti knew she had to do something, for Grayol would die if she didn’t. With knife in hand, Ruskir was coming after the now terrified little Krepp. Grayol had made the first attack, even showed intent to fight Ruskir to the death. No punishment would fall upon Zeti’s father if he retaliated, even if he killed Grayol in the act. And Zeti had no doubt that that’s what Ruskir wanted to do.
    He’d always hated Grayol, telling Zeti countless times to ignore him and spend her time finding a strong seshar .
    Zeti grabbed her bow and aimed an arrow at her father. “Stop or die,” she warned.
    Now standing over Grayol, Ruskir slowly looked over his shoulder at Zeti. “You would shoot father to you in the back?”
    “I killed Paramar. I could easily kill you, too.”
    Then everything became too silent for Zeti’s taste. It gave her time to think. But she didn’t want to hear her thoughts. She knew too well that they would just be doubts about being able to shoot him.
    “First you spit at me, now you point an arrow in my direction?” Ruskir spoke spitefully. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”
    “I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t want to see you ever again. Get out of here. Go back from wherever you came.”
    Ruskir turned and spat, his hot saliva splattering against Grayol’s face. “Don’t think I’m done with you,” Ruskir threatened him.
    Then he was gone.
    Grayol started to wipe off the spit, but Zeti threw him a rag that he gladly used rather than his arm.
    “I’m happy you’re back,” the young Krepp muttered. His yellow eyes avoided Zeti, looking at the displaced dirt around the hut instead.
    Zeti had been gone less than a month, but Grayol looked a lot older. His teeth were longer, sharper even, and his mouth was wider to match his growing face. The two nostrils resting just above his mouth were bigger and rounder. In fact, he was taller as well. Zeti knew that she’d grown, but Grayol had grown faster, now coming up to her shoulders.
    One day, he’ll be taller than me, Zeti realized. It was an eerie thought.
    Then Zeti noticed he was holding his stomach, turning away from her as if to hide his injury.
    “Did father to me cut you when he kicked?” Zeti asked.
    “I’m fine.” Grayol still wouldn’t look at her.
    “Let me see it.” She turned him toward her, then pulled down the hand covering his wound. There were two parallel gashes, each deep enough to need treatment.
    “Your skin is still so soft,” Zeti realized aloud. It was the only way the cuts could’ve been so deep.
    His head lowered shamefully.
    “But it’ll get tougher after your pra durren ,” Zeti quickly added. “How old are you now?”
    “Ten— pra durren .”
    “So you might have your shedding next year if you’re early. Aren’t you happy about that?”
    Grayol nodded unenthusiastically.
    “Sit.” Zeti pointed at the one chair in her hut. “I’m going to fetch some water and keyfar plants to clean your wound.”
    As she turned to leave, Grayol grabbed her arm. “Father to you…” He let go of her and scrunched his mouth. “I think you should tell him you made a mistake. I know you hate him right now, but every Krepp only gets one father.”
    Zeti thought to slap Grayol before she remembered that he’d been without a family since she’d met him. He believes that even a father like Ruskir would be better than none.
    “I’m done with him,” Zeti said in her most confident voice. “And don’t try to convince me otherwise.”
    “I understand,” Grayol muttered.
    She turned to leave, but once again he stopped her. “Zeti…”
    “I need to clean out your wound,” she said.
    “Do you think he’ll come back?”
    “I don’t want him to.” Zeti sympathized with Grayol not