Free The Unkillables by J. Boyett

one. He stopped arguing with the Jaw long enough to grab her arm, prompting her to squeal in fright. The childish, dangerously noisy reaction did not exactly augment Chert’s respect for the woman. “Those are for the People, only,” he snarled.
    Veela bowed her head repeatedly and shrunk in her shoulders, trying to indicate submission. She hadn’t intended to eat the mushroom—she’d been interested in the patch because she’d guessed that this fungus had some kind of ritual significance for her new buddies.
    Chert turned back to the Jaw. Between his son’s stubbornness and the monster woman’s nosiness, he had trouble keeping his temper. “Without the shaman to guide you, you will understand nothing of what you see,” he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. “And you will create danger for me and the woman. We will have to guard you while your spirit voyages out from its body. Even if it only takes a short time, that will not be safe for us.”
    That turned out to be the right argument; the notion that he would be a burden was an affront to the Jaw’s pride, if nothing else. With a frown he turned his back on the mushroom patch and walked away.
    Chert followed his son. While their backs were turned, Veela reached for one of the mushrooms.
    But Chert spun around and grabbed her arm, held his face close to hers, and growled. Veela again put on her cowed, submissive face, which wasn’t hard to do. Okay, so the guy definitely did not want her eating that shroom—she could take a hint. Meanwhile she made a mental note of just how much sharper than hers his senses were. Pretty impressive, how he’d known what she was up to while she was still behind him.
    He kept a sharp eye on her after that, till they were well away from the mushroom patch. For now, Veela only tried to discreetly memorize the distinctive purple design on the cap of the fungus. It might be interesting to analyze whatever it was these guys were tripping on, even if it was probably nothing more than a garden-variety psychedelic.

Six
    E ventually dusk was presaged in the sky. Veela indicated they all should go to sleep. The Jaw offered to stand the first watch. At first Veela didn’t understand what he meant; once they’d explained it, she shook her head and held up the nut. Chert and the Jaw figured out she was saying the little man in the nut would stand guard.
    “How will he be able to keep watch?” demanded Chert, pointing scornfully at the nut. “Even if you let him out, he must be smaller than a bug. It would take him a day and a night to walk a circuit around our sleeping bodies.”
    “And sealed inside the nut, he can only see straight ahead, through the side that the tiny holes are on,” said the Jaw, frowning in confusion. “What if something approaches from the side with no holes?”
    It took Veela some time to understand what they were saying, and when she did she laughed and assured them that, no, they would be safe enough with only the man in the nut watching. Annoyed by her foolishness, Chert and the Jaw agreed that the Jaw would take the first watch, and Chert the second. Chert grimly told himself that if this Veela thought they weren’t going to wake her up for the third watch, she had a surprise in store. He decided he would surreptitiously stay awake himself, during her turn. If he saw her nod off, then he would know she was worse than useless, and he would kill her.
    Despite all the uncertainties the day had left him with, Chert fell asleep soon after lying down. He’d hoped for dreamlessness, but at least there were no visions terrible enough to wake him. He woke easily when the Jaw shook him to take his turn. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his son lie down and almost immediately fall asleep. Chert had not always paid much attention to the Jaw. For his first three years the child had been mostly in the company of Gash-Eye, in whom Chert had had no interest once he’d finished the honor of ceremonially