Ishtar thought that this fishing was decidedly more enjoyable than the last fish she’d had experience with. Sure, both were dangerous, but these ones were big enough for her to do something about. Especially with the water keeping them from getting close enough to ambush the rest of the swarm. She was quick enough to react and not be threatened, but it was good that Isnanna could protect herself this–Ishtar shook her head. No, she wasn’t going to think about that right now. If she did, it would be too easy to lose herself in bitterness.

Instead, Ishtar continued serving as bait and hook for the ishabaak. She jogged across the sand, her steps deliberately heavy and sluggish as she circled back to the wet safe area. There was something she couldn’t quite place that let her know that the ishabaak was approaching, but she trusted it. 3… 2… 1… She jumped to the side just as the gaping mouth of the fish appeared underneath. Too easy.

The rest of the body followed the snapping jaws, and just as the tail left the sand she struck. Ishtar jumped up and, with all her body weight and leg strength, she kicked the ishabaak towards the dampened safe area. It sailed from the sky, a trickle of blood sprinkling out of its mouth at the force of the strike and Ishtar felt the change that the blood brought begin to course through her veins and dilate her eyes. Everything slowed as Ishtar lost herself in the glory of combat.

Before her on the wet sand stood Khara, Faaral, and Trai. As Ishtar fell, she signed that three more ishabaak approached and from where to them. Her back thumped against the ground and she rolled her tail like a wave against the ground to flip herself backward and dodge the next mouth. Before this second would-be assassin could even realize it had missed her, she plunged one hand into the bottom of its jaw, wrenched it to the side, and, with the corpse flopping uselessly behind her pulling arm, hurled it towards the safe area.

With a rhythm that came naturally, Ishtar continued her deadly dance among the striking ishabaak. In her peripherals she could see the three she had warned about attempting their strikes on the bait. She figured they were disappointed to find that the walking creatures were just sticks being struck repeatedly against the sand. Ishtar found her eyes idly watching to see how well the rest of her hunting pack was reacting to this strange new prey and was generally happy with the results. Without watching, she found herself sidestepping two more strikes from the toothy but stupid creatures. Their blood spotted her body but even with the crimson liquid warming her, Ishtar couldn’t find any passion to deal with the ishabaak. So instead she idly kicked a couple more towards her pack before she stepped back to the relative safety of the wet sand.

With repeated shakes Ishtar removed the majority of the blood from her hand. The flecks still covering her reflective brown scales. Looking down, her white sides were coated in gore. She did enjoy the fight, but what she enjoyed from the fight itself was the challenge and if it didn’t offer any challenge, just like this fight, it was not much more than dirty exercise. At least she had been able to see the newest khatif in battle and, while they lacked in experience, they had been purposeful and enthusiastic in the fight, so she would trust them in the next hunt. Ishtar sighed and began to walk towards the nearest of the wolfstags to get hosed down so she wouldn’t begin to stink. Or, she could go to her sister and take this opportunity–

“That was amazing, Huntmistress Ishtar!” Khara’s grating voice pulled Ishtar from her thoughts. Well, she could use the distraction.

“It was just a hunt. Thank you.” She nodded quickly and continued on her path.

“You move so beautifully when you hunt. How did you learn?” Khara didn’t give up, and, regardless of the actual tone of his voice or the beauty of his body, Ishtar briefly considered disemboweling him. It wouldn’t be too hard, just one hand… No, she was still feeling the influence of the fight, the bloodlust, as well as her frustration.

“I was taught by Wisterl and I follow my instincts.” Ishtar couldn’t stop herself from briefly pausing at her teacher’s name. That wound still burned, and the swarm wasn’t sure how to deal with such a massive loss as a whole. Keelish didn’t care if members of the swarm died, but was the swarm still keelish? Ishtar, Isnanna, and Iituli had struggled to break the strangest habits from the newest members of the swarm. Only after this exposure did they realize how different they were from those of their same race, and Isnanna had struggled over how best to approach these strangers and how to twist their desires to the triplets’ will.

“--you be available to maybe teach me about–” Ishtar realized she’d been lost in thought without paying Khara any attention.

“Look, Khara. We can talk later. I need to get cleaned off.”

Finally, Ishtar could see it click with him. “Ok, great. Thank you for your guidance on the hunt, Huntmistress.”

She sighed with relief as she finally stood next to one of the wolfies, ignoring the continued prattle from Khara’s direction. Ishtar couldn’t fathom how her sister and mother were able to communicate with the wolfstags so well, so, in secret, recently she had taken to calling them wolfies in the hope it would somehow encourage them to get along with her.

“Wash me down, would you, wolfy?”

Water slowly flowed from her shoulder and down her side as Ishtar realized that the water wasn’t coming from the creature she had addressed.

“If you would like me to, I can, Huntmistress.” A slight trace of a smile quirked at Isnanna’s mouth as she slowly poured water over Ishtar’s back and sides.

“Only you can still sneak up on me like that, Spymistress.”

“You know I did not agree to that name. I agree all three of us need titles, but mine is lackluster at best and I retain my protest.”

“Well, it’s the name you deserve, sneaking around like that.” Ishtar could let herself slip into the familiar banter with her sister like this, so similar to her, so comfortable…

A natural pause slowly extended into a pregnant one to an uncomfortable one. The only sound was the dripping of water from Ishtar’s scales as her sister gently washed the grime and gore of battle from her body.

“... I am sorry. I should not have withheld information from you. It was not my right.”

“No, you can keep what you want from me, you’re you, and I trust you–”

“That came out wrong. I wished not to hurt you, but my selfish wish hurt you further than an immediate and early confession would have. I apologize for keeping you in the dark when you deserved my trust.” The water trickled and dripped irregularly as Ishtar felt Isnanna’s control over the magic slip.

Ishtar couldn’t muster words as she slowly leaned into her sister’s embrace.

“You girls done over here? Sometimes you get dirty, get used to it.” Iituli’s voice cut into the comfortable silence and jarred the sisters from their relaxation.

“Don’t worry, we’re just telling secrets that flame-brained ‘Warmasters’ don’t need to worry themselves over.”

“Ishtar, you’re just jealous I got a cooler title than you.”

“We might have been jealous if there was any war to be had.”

“Whatever, Spymistress. What were you up to anyways?”

The sisters looked at each other, the familiarity settling over them as they both stood tall, together, and spoke in unison,

“Nothing you need to concern yourself over.”