[m] [ro] don't think too slow in the syrupy sun
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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.


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Tlantli is by me!

It was a lucky thing, heading north today. Tlantli had departed Salsola a little under an hour ago, heading along the coastline toward Amherst. She had been traveling just twenty minutes when she encountered the strangest sight: the hulking and massive figure of a dying whale. It was strewn across the sand of the beach, only its tail still in the water. By the time the tide rolled out again, it would be completely above the sea line. The flaxen coyote had spent several minutes inspecting the area before heading back to Salsola at a faster pace than she'd departed. Now she stood impatiently, waiting for Miqui and the horsecart.

The brown coyote had been making good use of the cart as of late, and today they'd find even more use for it. The tawny woman grinned broadly at her brother as he brought the cart around, a tattered canvas laid in the bed to keep the wood clean. The big white horse and Trader pulled, and Tlantli trotted alongside as they traveled. It was the larger cart with the canvas top, and there was nowhere for her to sit up front. The whale is very big, she explained, her Spanish coming quickly. We'll have to cut it up to take it back, of course, she said. But think of the oil. Miqui nodded his agreement.

Bones, too, he supplied in his gruff and low voice. Tlantli had not even considered this, and grinned broadly. Bones, too, she agreed. Following this exchange, the pair fell quiet until they reached the whale. Miqui drew the cart to a halt a good distance from the whale, not wishing to startle the horses, and both canines leapt down onto the sand. The dust-colored Confidant offered a machete knife to his sister and held one himself, and the pair set to work, even as the marine mammal still lived.

An hour later, they had the cart completely loaded with large, flat slabs of whale meat, each piece thick with fat and blubber. Both Miqui and Tla were covered with blood, but neither seemed to mind much -- it was only Miqui was preparing to depart back to Salsola with the cart that he went into the water, washing most of it off. Tlantli watched him depart back in the direction of the pack, turning a moment later to cut more from the whale. Hopefully, Miqui would bring reinforcements -- she hoped to be able to load the cart immediately upon his return.

The whale was dead now, and the tawny woman worked silently, the mechanical and automated nature of the job allowing her to slide into thought. She and Miqui had always spent time together; he had visited her most of any (that is to say, still infrequently) during her dark months, bringing food and other small trinkets. Sometimes she had not allowed him inside. These days, they spent quite a bit of time together -- but Tlantli was careful, and she was sure her brother was, too. He knew of her mate, and he had no desire to publicly shame himself, Tlantli, or Ezequiel.

The coyote slid her knife along the whale's ribs, cutting away a large section of flesh. The spring sun beat down on her back, invigorating her with its energy, and she worked faster, still thinking of Miqui. She would know when her womb quickened, she supposed -- she had known it with her first children, short-lived as they were. The flaxen coyote jabbed her knife into the whale's flesh again, moving down closer toward its tail. The tide was almost at its lowest, and there were long feet between the tail and the waterline now.

The yellow-furred hybrid did not know when she would be ready, but this whale would certainly help: boiling the flesh down to make oils, smoking it as meat, and making tools or even pretty little things from its bones were just the beginnings of the whale's uses. Perhaps their Colotl ranks might like a very large, unshapely skull to decorate their Last Supper hall? The coyote smirked at the thought and swung her machete down, chopping each tailfin off with a single stroke. She dragged these pieces off to the side and added it to the pile.

As she had discovered this boon and was doing much of the dirtiest work to obtain it, the hybrid thought she was entitled to a share of the spoils -- surely whale oils would be highly valued. The coyote moved back toward the carcass, wiping a bloodied forearm against her cheek. The whale had a strangely moschate scent where she would have expected a salty or fishy scent. Shrugging, the woman slid her knife along the creature's belly vertically, having cut most of the best flesh from it. The whale was looking more carved than not now, with most of the exposed flesh cleaved away aside from its head. There were no more fins to speak of, and now the creature's intestines came rushing outward. Tlantli stepped back, but not in time -- faintly warm innards, the largest she'd ever seen, flooded out of the cut and piled about her feet.

She made a face, but laughed, flicking her machete against the mess. Most of the surrounding sands were stained red, as was she herself -- the blood was thick, and she felt almost greasy. Still, there was at least another horsecart full of meat, all of it with a thick layer of blubber. The sound of horses' hooves drew the coyote's attention, and she turned around to find Miqui returning. Frowning, she stepped away from the carcass and crossed her arms. Why just the one cart? And the one slave? she asked, cocking her head to one side. Miqui frowned back at her with his response.

No other cart horses, he explained. The other slaves are preparing the fire. Eris is there, he said. Tlantli's face darkened imperceptibly at her brother's Spanish, but she shrugged her shoulders and nodded. The Gjalda slave did not need direction, and silently set to work loading the cart. Miqui did not step down from the cart himself, and Tlantli turned back to the whale wordlessly. When the slave had loaded the cart again, Tlantli heard it rumbling away again. The next time she stepped away from the carcass with a slab of meat, the slave was there to pile it up for her.

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