Excerpt from the chapter: The dondart
The Quest of the Dragaãnh, volume 2 of the Sacred Deviants, is not yet published, so this excerpt is unseen in this November 15, 2021. The publication should take place by the end of this month.
Maeween Baäelt's Diary: Play is one of the driving forces of life, but not getting "burned out" is essential; although sometimes instinct prevails. And my instinct liked to play, and to confront myself with situations that were supposed to educate me and reinforce in me that hardness of the purest crystal. I didn't want to be that crystal. I just wanted to be me."
"One evening, the Amazon was awakened by a sudden blast of wind. As she sat up halfway to check that there was no threat around, she spotted the insect-animal at the edge of the camp, some twenty altipas above: the dondart; certainly, one of its representatives. She stood up quietly, ready to try the experiment she had in mind since the first specimen appeared.
As she approached the bug, Maeween considered the situation. She didn't have enough to make a hindrance. She hesitated to pounce on its back. If she slowed down her landing motion, the spikes that would spring up would be so numerous that she might not really risk impaling herself on them. It was only at the last second that she thought about the toxicity of the dondart and her inability, at this point, to control her jumps satisfactorily. Searle had vaguely spoken about something, on this subject. Unwilling to put herself in a perilous position, the young woman searched around her for a vine strong enough to support her; when she found it, she had to try several times before managing to catch the animal that was drifting with the night currents.
Realizing her madness, she giggled discreetly; playing in the middle of the night like a child, with a kind of itinerant balhon was funny. When she had harpooned it, she tried to instill her will in it. To her astonishment, her extraordinary mount obeyed at once, and the Amazon felt herself going after it in the darkness.
Soon, she was riding above the camp and could make out the sleeping forms of her companions buried under mounds of foliage meant to insulate them from the cold. In trying to change the direction in which the dondart was leading her, she did not take heed of the huge trunk standing straight in front of her; when she discerned its giant shadow, it was already too late."
This excerpt from the Chapter "The Dondart" which belongs to the volume 2 of "Sacred Deviants" ends here.
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