Companion Chapter: Another Mile of Broken Road-Selah's Side

The easy part of writing is when a character comes from within your own soul.  It's fairly simple to make a character interesting and multidimensional when you have an innate intimate knowledge of who they are and where they came from.  But what happens when you're faced with a character who doesn't come from within, that you don't have this innate understanding of?  That's why I and player Selah Phocina decided to engage in an experiment: to see how well we can write each other's primary characters and still make you, dear reader, care about them.

You'll no doubt notice some differences in dialog, events and details between our two sides, but just remember that that's part of the point.  There are at least two sides to every story, and the truth falls somewhere in between.

Personally, I'm pleased with the results, and I hope you will be, too.
-Ginal Celah in real life


**This piece takes place during Part 5: Gods Bless the Broken Road, written by Ginal Celah**


It was dammed annoying how the road of life curved, bent and forked to take us places we would never have chosen.  As Selah closed her eyes, she saw herself before one such fork, and for the life of her, she couldn't decide which path to walk.

The path to the right went on into the horizon, straight, clear and uncomplicated.  It was a familiar path, for she had been walking this path for years since she escaped her life of torment and servitude in Coerthas.  It was a path that allowed her the freedom to live her life on her own terms, go where she pleased, and answer only to herself.  It was the path of freedom and independence that she desperately held to, for she had sworn to herself to never again lose control of her own life.

Then there was the path on the left.  This path went through territory unknown: through a cluttered and rocky pass, over a restless and raging river, and to a dark and foreboding wood.  She knew this to be a path of great risk, for to walk this path would mean to answer to another aside from herself.  It would mean to expose her heart and soul as she had never done, to make herself completely emotionally naked.

It was the path to a life with Ginal Celah.

Ever since Selah had met the lovely young lancer during a training trial in Gridania, the road of Selah's life had begun to bend, clutter, and occasionally break with greater and greater frequency.  What began as a simple attraction and a desire to aid a fellow lancer, quickly blossomed into a recognition of the soul, and a genuine concern and fondness.  Now, after having fought alongside the miqo'te, traveled with her, shared meals and conversation, and shared a briefly intimate embrace, the dragoon felt terrified.  She was terrified, because she knew she was beginning to fall for Ginal.

Selah's needs and desires had always been satisfied by one night encounters or brief partnerships.  The hyur had never needed, or even wanted, anything longer or greater.  Again, it was damned annoying how the road of life could could bend and break, for Selah's heart was beginning to call for something longer and greater.

And it was calling for Ginal.

So now, as Selah held her eyes shut and envisioned herself before the fork in the road, she continued to look from one path, to the other.  The right path; clear, straight, uncomplicated...and now, somehow, strangely empty.  Or the left path; uncertain, winding, complicated and frightening...and yet, with a potentially great fulfillment at its end.

Which path of this broken road?



It was past midday in the southern Shroud, and soon enough to enter evening.  Selah rode atop her chocobo Dinornis, ahead of Ginal and merchants in their wagon, as she kept watch for the myriad forms of trouble that the Shroud could hide and throw at careless travelers beneath its thick web of high reaching branches.  The merchants and their mercenary guards had traveled halfway between Quarrymill and Buscaron's Druthers, accompanied all the while by the unending choir of local day birds.  The dragoon looked over her shoulder at the inexplicable feeling of being watched, and found the miqo'te behind her staring at her.

There's that look, again.

It was the same starry-eyed stare that was always accompanied by that adorable blush that seemed unique to Ginal.  It was that look of idolizing adoration, heartfelt appreciation and deeply buried desire that was as disconcerting as it was wonderful to bask in.  It was something the auburn haired woman had only ever seen from this miqo'te.

Why does she keep looking at me like that?  I'm nowhere near worth that kind adoration.

The redhead seemed to finally realize she had been noticed, and her face flushed that adorable crimson.  Selah grinned and gave a playful wink that caused the younger woman to turn away.  In the dragoon's eyes, there truly had never been so undeniably cute a woman.

The hyur resumed her point watch as she affectionately pat Dinornis.

"A nice, quiet stretch, eh boy?" She asked of the bird.  No sooner spoken, when Ginal called out,

"Did you hear that?  A snapping sound."  Selah narrowed her eyes as she searched around for the cause of the noise she hadn't heard.

I'd never be amubushed with Ginal around, that's for sure.

Ginal's senses had proven to be every bit as sharp as her people were credited for, a quality she felt considerably more appreciative of after the last time she had been involved with a miqo'te woman.  She remembered D'itria having rocks for brains and the attention span of a ladybug.  Selah had only kept the woman around for her talented tongue.  It wasn't the first time the dragoon had been led by her loins.

Nophica knows I hate those desperate days...

The hyur shook off the thoughts and returned her attention to the moment at hand, just in time to hear for herself the rustling and snapping sounds coming from the underbrush to their right.  In an instant, the warrior women had dismounted their birds and drawn their lances.  Dinornis stretched and fluttered his wings, kwehing that he was ready for a fight, while Ginal sent her battle untrained bird to stay with the merchant cart.

Then came the ziz, an entire pack of the brightly colored, horned reptiles emerged from the wood, the fins on their heads and backs up in their attacks stance.  Selah leaped, and soared into the fray, bringing the tip of her lance expertly down into one reptile's skull to immediately end its threat.   The hyur looked over to check on her companion, and found that her battle behavior was suddenly much different than before.

Ginal was twirling and leaping about in her attacks in a manner that seemed almost an attempt to mimic Selah's own dragoon form, and while it was true that the miqo'te showed promise well above most of Ywain's other current trainees, this seemed both too advanced for someone of Ginal's skill level, and unnecessarily flashy to be practical.  Selah noticed a small grin on the miqo'te's lips as Ginal quickly glanced over at her mentor.

The dragoon brushed an auburn bang from her face as another snarling ziz barreled down on her with its nose-horn forward.  With an easy sidestep she avoided the clumsy assault, and put her lance deep into the reptile's side.  She withdrew her weapon and turned back to watch her miqo'te companion, and saw that she was still moving in that flashy manner.

As well, the redhead fought almost as though she were back in the Canopy, flirting and teasing the male patrons.  Ginal would feign lowering her guard, and lash out with a thrust or spin-attack every time a ziz would would seek to engage her.

What are you doing, girl?

The dragoon met the lancer's gaze, and Ginal gave a playful smirk.  Her battle behavior changed again, this time with the miqo'te assuming low bending stances that gave unobstructed views of her cleavage, or bending at her waist to give the hyur a look at her panties.

You want my attention, do you?  This is hardly the time.  You'll get yourself killed acting like that in combat.

Gods dammit, she knows how to make me want to look.

With a few more thrusts, jumps, sidesteps and twirls, the few remaining ziz of the pack called to each other for a withdraw, and trampled their way back into the wood whence they came.

Selah noticed the ziz blood and scales on Dinornis' talons and beak, and smiled proudly as she caressed his neck, "Did you get yourself a ziz?  That's my good boy!"

The bird proudly kwehed as the dragoon pulled some gyshal greens from her saddle bag and fed the chocobo the treat.

As the warrior-women mounted up, Selah caught Ginal's gaze and couldn't help but give a knowing grin.  The redhead looked down as she bit her lip and blushed, the realization of her behavior a moment ago seeming to finally dawn on her.  The dragoon laughed softly as admitted to herself that she was most certainly not above a free look up an attractive girl's skirt.  Ginal looked good in green, anyway.

The last time a woman had been so blatant toward Selah was that barmaid from Limsa she met a year ago.  Selah grinned widely to herself as she led the caravan on its way.  She remembered the blond haired, blue eyed hyur vixen had a backside to rival an elezen, and gods be good, was she one hell of a kisser.  Why, the two had spent nearly an hour just...

Selah blinked as she came back to reality.  She looked down at herself and frowned with a sharp sigh.

Well damn.  Went and made myself wet.  Has it been that long since I've had a good roll-around?




Hours had passed, and it was soon to be sunset by the time the travelers arrived at Buscaron's Druthers.  The merchant couple had business and pleasantries to tend to with Buscaron, so they decided to rest here overnight.  Selah knew an opportunity when she saw one.  There was a ziz breeding ground just a walk north of the Druthers, and not only could Ginal use some extra training, she needed an honest chastising.

I don't care how much she turns me on, I can't let that kind of behavior slide.  She has to know that it's too damned dangerous.

As the two unpacked their saddlebags onto the shelves of the small room they'd be sharing, Selah looked over her shoulder and briefly watched Ginal, suddenly feeling much more serious.  It's true that Selah was more attracted to miqo'te women than other races, and it's true that much of what she was feeling right now was due to a rather raging need to take a new bed partner, but it wasn't just raw sexual attraction that was driving Selah where Ginal was concerned.

Every time the dragoon had looked into the younger woman's eyes, she had seen a fear, and a sadness, and a pain that lie just beneath the surface.  Something that the redhead was obviously trying to mask and bury, but could never escape.  Selah recognized it so easily, for it mirrored her own.

What have you been through, Kitten?  Have you suffered as much as I have?

"I'll take the bottom bed, if you don't mind." the dragoon stated matter-of-factly to Ginal.

The miqo'te paused for a moment to think about it, then shrugged with a nod.  Truthfully, Selah thought Ginal might need the extra privacy.  The last thing the redhead would need is for Selah to come down from the top bunk to find her companion betrayed by her own arousal.  Selah still clearly remembered that poking sensation from their embrace in the Canopy.

"Meet me in the yard when you're ready," the auburn haired warrior told Ginal.

"Ready for what?  I thought we were turning in for the eveing?" Ginal inquired.

The dragoon set her enchanted relic weapon against the wall, "We're going hunting.  There's a ziz breeding ground a short distance away, and I think we could use a chance to practice."

The frown that formed on the miqo'te's face was enough to convey the thought of "You mean I need practice, right?"  The dragoon simply shrugged and headed outside.

The hyur wondered if that pain is what she had seen surface during Ginal's trial weeks ago.  It made sense, now that Selah consciously thought about it, since Ginal didn't display that rage until she had been taunted so badly.  Perhaps it had been more cruel of Selah than she originally thought.  Was it to do with the lancer being a hermaphrodite?

Selah had been putting pieces together for days now, and she finally had a picture clear enough to make some sense of.  Maybe she so relentlessly teased and taunted the men around her because she knew she could act out without becoming aroused?  Aside from the way she kept giving Selah that look, she had also seen the miqo'te occasionally attempt to hide her glances toward other woman.  It was clear enough to the dragoon that Ginal had only an interest in women.

And that brilliant capacity for aggression she carried, maybe that was the result of some sort of abuse suffered?  There was also a bit of gossip that circulated among some of the lancer woman, with words like "freak" and phrases like "did I really see that?" being thrown about.  It seemed that, unfortunately, Ginal's attempts at privacy and discretion had only drawn some unwanted snooping.

Then there was, of course, that embrace in the Carline Canopy, where the miqo'te's eyes had pleaded with Selah, "Please just take me."  The poking sensation that followed was enough to set the hyur on a search for some answers to her questions.

There were also questions in her mind like, "how formed are her parts?" and "how functional is she, anyway?"  Not to mention the lingering curiosity of "can she even use that thing during an intimate moment?"  If she could, how would it be?  Would it be like..?

Ah, Loetgeim...

Loetgeim had been the longest, not to mention loudest, sweatiest and most exhausting relationship, of Selah's life.  The roegadyn pirate princess was as ruthless in bed as she was in battle, and had absolutely perfected bringing the dragoon to her knees with that obsidian carved toy...  It's too bad she had turned out to be a murdering psychopath.  Killing your own sister for a larger share of profit wasn't something Selah could condone on any level, and she had been only too happy to be back on dry land.

The hyur sighed at herself and shook her head as she walked out into the central yard of the Druthers.

I haven't thought of any of these women in ages.  What's gotten into me?  Why do I suddenly need so badly to remember them?

Selah marched up to a traveling weapons merchant she noticed on their way in, and began browsing over his displayed wares.

"Something you're looking for in particular, Miss?" the older hyur man asked.

"Hmm...this one." she answered as she hefted a steel bladed lance from its display.  Selah twirled the lance overhead and gauged its weight and balance.  "I'll give you one thousand for it," she said to the merchant.

The man looked positively offended at the words, "That's high quality Ishgardian steel, the very same used to slay dragons!  It's worth several thousand on the open market!"

"It isn't either of those," the dragoon retorted.  "But it is still quality steel work.  Fifteen hundred, plus...this."  Selah pulled a small tourmaline crafted ring from her belt pouch, "It's aether enchanted, worth a few grand at least."

The older man studied the ring for a moment, "Two thousand and the ring, and it's a deal."

"Done." Selah answered.  She scattered some coins before the merchant and rested her new lance over her shoulder.

The dragoon turned to find Ginal walking up to her and eyeing the new weapon, "What's that?"

Selah grinned at her companion, "I thought I'd even things up between us.  No Dinornis, no enchanted weapons."  She saw the look of annoyance on the miqo'te's face, and understood that she felt condescended to.

Sorry, Kitten, but I've got a point to make.



After crossing over the river just outside the outpost, and an hour's hike north, they came to a relatively clear place among the trees, where there were a handful of the lumbering reptiles feeding, mating, and sleeping.  They hid behind a large boulder that jutted from the ground, and silently watched for a long moment to take in the scene.

The hyur beckoned her companion a few steps away from the hiding place, "First, I want you to try a technique called phlebotomize."  Ginal nodded, having apparently heard of the technique.  "The idea is," Selah hefted her lance and made several quick jabs to emphasize her words, "to identify a small number of veins and puncture them.  It's rarely enough to kill, but it causes some short term bleed-out and can severely weaken."

"Right," Ginal answered.

"Second, remember to be mindful of the order in which you deploy your techniques.  For example, you should open with a phlebotomize to maximize its use to you.  Use it too late into a fight, and it's worthless to even try."  Again Selah saw that look on Ginal's face, the one that said she knew she was being condescended to.

Selah chose to ignore it.

"And last...that behavior from earlier?  The sexy bending, the false vulnerability.  Stop it." her tone came harsh and scolding, causing the miqo'te's ears to droop in embarrassment.  She rested a hand on Ginal's shoulder, "Kitten, I like having you around, but that kind of behavior in combat can get you killed."  Their gaze met, and she knew the lancer saw the sincerity in her eyes.

"I got it.  I'll stay focused," Ginal answered.

I'd cry if I lost you, now...

They rose and stepped back to their hiding place behind the boulder, again watching and waiting as they took the unchanging scene in.  They charged from their hiding place, and taught the ziz how an ambush truly looks.  With a flurry of thrusts, sidesteps, twirls, jump, jabs and feints, it was over.



The lance wielders walked away from their field of victory covered in ziz ichor, and headed straight for the nearby river as the orange and red of the setting sun washed over the wood.

"You see?" Selah asked as she pointed ahead, "The river forms into a few small pools that are perfect for a cool bath."

Ginal nodded, but seemed distracted by her thoughts, and tense.

I know, you don't want me to see.  That's okay.

"I'll take the pool down that way, and you can take this one." the dragoon offered.

Ginal immediately relaxed and nodded with a smile, "Sounds great!  I can wash up my clothes, too."  Selah smiled and left the miqo'te to herself as she walked to her own private pool.

The hyur stripped out of her subligar, top and boots, and stepped into the cold water.  The chilled water sent a pleasant shiver through her body, and she began to scrub her clothes against the rocks.

She looked over her shoulder to where Ginal was, and felt her heart aching.  It was becoming harder by the day to not tell the younger woman what she felt.

I want to take you... I want to try to be with you... I...I think I love you...

These feelings were making her crazy.  She hated feeling this way.  Selah never wanted to be in love, never needed to be close to someone.  She liked her life as it was, she relished her freedom, and yet...And yet, the idea of answering to Ginal wasn't so bad.  The thought of letting the miqo'te into her heart, to see her from within...it wasn't nearly so awful a thought as it had been in previous years.

So what if we tried?  What then?  If it somehow lasted?  If it we somehow worked?  Where would we go from there?  

Marriage...?

It wasn't a thought that Selah enjoyed.  Her own experience with marriage had been beyond horrible, and she had no desire to be put in that same position.  It didn't help that some of her observations on other marriages weren't exactly what dreams were made of.

Like Hanama Nama...

An old friend of Selah's, the wife of successful merchant man, Hanama had everything she caould ask for:  A large and well furnished home, more money than she could ever spend, competent maids who tended to all needed housework, and a complete and total lack of love or affection.  Of course, that was to be expected, since her friend's marriage wasn't even voluntary.  Arranged marriages had a way of sucking the very joy out of your soul, something the dragoon was all too familiar with.

What began as a friendship and an understanding of what her friend was made to live through eventually escalated to a night of wine fueled passion, hosted at a sort of place that boated mirrored ceilings and musicians hidden in the walls.

Selah admired her friend's decision to eke out her own happiness, and her refusal to be a victim to her husband's affairs away from home.  Still though, one night was enough, and Selah decided it was best to pull away a bit and simply retain a friendship.

It that all there is to marriage?  Abuse. lies, and secrets?  

Some people seem happy enough, though...

She finished scrubbing at her clothes and set them aside to dry.  She splashed herself over and submerged under the water a few times to wash herself as well.  The hyur frowned and shook her head at her thoughts.  All these women, despite the differences in their backgrounds and life goals, had one thing in common: They were all only in the moment.

Fun and some temporary company was all Selah ever needed.  She never felt like she wanted more in her life to be happy, but now... Now, she felt like she honestly wanted to try for something longer, for something deeper.

But was she serious about this?  Was she just out to find another temporary lover?

I don't want to hurt you, Kitten...You deserve better.

She only felt this way when she though of Ginal.

What is it about you, Kitten, that's gotten so under my skin?  And why have I felt all along like I've known you before?

Ginal wasn't anyone from Selah's past.  She was different, rare, unique even, among all the people Selah had ever met.  Her physical state of being didn't even factor into it.  Ginal had a natural competence in battle that you knew you could trust to watch your back.  She had that adorable blush that told you she'd never get used to being complimented or looked at.  That genuine, joyful smile that lit up whatever room she was in... And that other look in her eyes, beyond the pain and fear.  That look that, when their gazes met and lingered, told Selah "I promise I'd try as hard as you would."

The dragoon sat back against the rocks and closed her eyes.  She again saw herself standing before that fork in the road of her life.  Left or right?  Uncertainty or familiarity?  Absolute freedom, or freedom to be shared?  This frightening yet comforting, and all consuming feeling in her heart, would not be reasoned with or pushed aside.

She knew, now, that she'd never no peace along the right path unless she at least tried to walk the left one.  And, Twelve damn it all, Selah was a lancer, too.  Lancers faced danger and uncertainty head on, without the need for shield and bulky armor like their gladiator and paladin cousins.

"Composure of self, and a determined will."

Master Ywain's favorite words had never seemed so appropriate.  So with a shift of her weight, and step forward, followed by another, and another, Selah Phocina began to walk the left path.  It was the most frightening, and proud moment of her life.

And maybe, just maybe...If she could get this one thing right...If she could give this beautiful, adoring young woman the love she deserved, and help her through her pain...maybe she could shut the door on her own.

Nothing lasts forever...but maybe this one will.


**Please read Companion Piece 4: Another Mile of Broken Road-Ginal's Side for the full effect of this story**

Companion Chapter: Another Mile of Broken Road-Ginal's Side

Role-playing is the act of becoming other people. 

That’s a definition, not an insight. Because role-playing, like writing fiction or method acting, is not just about intellectual understanding — it’s an active leap of empathy. When we role-play, we find another person inside our selves. And we move in, see the world through their memory and emotions, and limit our thoughts and feelings to those they might have had. Inevitably, these prove to be a subset (though often an unsuspected one) of our own.

Role-playing is the act of self-discovery.

This is why the enterprise is so addicting. We are like a mariner long confined to his village harbor, who discovers his small island is the center of a grand archipelago. In all these diverse places, I might have lived. He sets out to explore other islands, and ends up gazing at the limitless sea beyond.

The archipelago is the sum of our own unexplored potential. (No man is an island, but he may well be several.) The sea is the boundary between us and other people.

Role-playing is rarely a solitary activity. We create our own alternate self, but our partners in the role-play are creating other selves as well. It is the interaction of these selves that makes MMO role-playing, even in its simplest forms, more satisfying than solitary play. In time, we come to know these other creations almost as intimately as our own.

And so the ultimate challenge in a role-play is to switch roles, to play the other character. On one level, it is a test of how well you, as creator, have done your job — can others see the world through your created eyes? On another, it is a test of your own skill of empathy — the act of seeing the world through the eyes of others. Creating and seeing are both satisfying challenges.

That is what Ginal’s pilot and I are doing here — telling a shared adventure through the eyes and emotions of the other’s character. For these next few chapters, Ginal’s pilot will write as Selah, and I will write as Ginal. It’s a game, in a way — a contest of observation and empathy. But it’s also a good way to get to know our own characters more deeply, by seeing how other minds perceive them.

It can be a humbling experience. But it’s also a great deal of fun. It wasn’t until I “was” Ginal that I discovered that Miqo’te hate swimming because their tails get wet. I do hope that Ginal’s pilot forgives me for that little revelation.

-Selah Phocina in real life

**This piece takes place during Silk Talons: Part 5, written by Selah Phocina**

They left Gridania before dawn — two men in a wagon drawn by chocobos, and two women with lances, riding their own long-necked, dun-yellow birds. The road through the forest was peaceful and empty, winding among trees that cast a web of black lace against the dim yellow sky. One by one, the solitary night birds fell silent, to be replaced by the joyous, swelling chorus of the day.

Ginal’s ears flicked, alert to every chirp and rustle. She felt the dawn with all her forest-bred senses, and she knew without conscious thought that the birds sensed no threat, and the small creatures of the woodland floor scurried in peace. She also knew that peace is a fragile and temporary thing. At any moment a hawk might swoop out of the glare, or a wildcat might pounce from the shadows, ending a small, busy life to extend its own.

But that was part of the forest too, just as the arrows of her tribe were part of the natural order. The forest’s joy was intense precisely because it was fragile. But it was also strong, with the sinewy power of things that change and interlock and continue — the web of life and death, which at this moment entwined with her own warrior existence.

Selah was riding a little ahead, her battle-trained eyes scanning the road. Because it was not hawks or wildcats against which they warded these traveling merchants, but all too human predators, or the diverse races of beast-men who called Eorzea home. They might be driven by greed or racial hatred, or by some complex mixture of the two, but they were all of them Enemy, beings who had to be spotted and intimidated, or met with steel and defeated. That was what Ginal and Selah were there for — intimidation and defense. And, preferably, the former — a battle won before they even sensed the enemy.

“The best victory is the battle you don’t have to fight,” Selah had told her that morning, as they checked their weapons and armor, and the protective harness of their mounts, and inspected the merchant wagon. “And yes, that loose axle pin was important. I’m glad we spotted it. A defeat can hinge on equipment failure.”

All of which struck Ginal as overly fussy, even pedantic. Losing a wheel might cost them an hour’s labor, but surely it would not create an Ixal raid where there was none, or bring a rogue Roegadyn bandit out of the underbrush. She decided that Selah was just trying to make a point — the blindingly obvious one that she outranked Ginal by some ridiculous amount, but had been assigned to train her. Selah was a famous Dragoon, who had gone toe-to-toe with primals and survived mad melees against the top warriors of the Empire. Ginal was still learning her basic lancer strokes and stances. She knew she showed promise — Guild-master Ywain had told her as much, as had Selah herself. But so did a hundred young lancers. Why the special treatment?

Ginal shrugged, and settled back to watching the bushes for bandits. But her attention kept wandering, to her own thoughts and troubles, and to the disturbingly attractive figure of her mentor. Because Selah, as well as being famous and absurdly overqualified to play caravan-guard or junior-lancer instructor, was an extremely attractive woman, and not all that much older than Ginal herself, if one simply counted the turns of the calendar. She was also interested in other women, rather than (or perhaps as well as) men — guild gossip and Ginal’s own observations had made that blindingly clear. And Ginal, in the moments she was most honest with herself, and not trying to hide, was very much of the same persuasion.

Just over the border, they ran into a pack of Ziz. Ginal and Selah dismounted and fought beside their birds; at least Selah did, partnering with her ‘bo Dinornis as a coordinated team. Ginal’s borrowed chocobo hen showed no enthusiasm for battle, and soon wandered off to lurk under the trees while her rider did all the work.

It was a small Ziz pack, and probably well-fed, since they didn’t put up much of a fight. Ginal started adding some fancy leaps and twirls to her attacks, just to make the fight interesting. She sensed Selah’s sidelong glances, and showed off even more, bending over to expose her panties from behind, or her cleavage from in front. She taunted the Ziz like she would tease a man, pretending vulnerability, then countering with a vicious slash when a carnivorous bird-beast sidled up to bite. Soon the Ziz decided they’d had enough, and melted back into the forest.

“You don’t usually see those brutes in South Shroud,” one of the merchants remarked. “At least not this side of the Druthers. I wonder what brings them here.”

“Climate change,” the other merchant answered. “The whole world’s messed up since the Calamity. Next thing you know we’ll get snow, like they did in Coerthas. Or the desert will move in from Thanalan. Or we’ll get dragons. It’s no bloody fair.” Ginal knew they’d had this conversation before. The men were partners, in both senses of the word.

Selah shrugged. Ginal imagined her saying, “Life isn’t fair — get used to it,” as she had on a number of occasions. But the merchant couple were paying clients of the Lancers’ Guild. Perhaps politeness came with the duty. Or perhaps Selah was a bit of a hypocrite, making rude remarks only when she could get away with them.

Ginal wondered what she would be like in bed. Would the imperious Hyur become a yielding, feminine partner? Or would she dominate as she did in battle, calling the shots and punishing any misbehavior? Ginal had a sudden vision of collars and whips, and felt wet heat between her thighs. As well as a certain… uprising. Amazing that this woman could excite both her genders at once.

Not that she would ever have the chance to know Selah… that way. Ginal’s fantasy sex life was explicit and intense because it was the only kind she had. She would never again dare to reveal her true nature to anyone, and open herself to ridicule and rejection. Been there, done that. And got the scars to prove it.

But, if she ever dared, it would be with someone like this Hyur Dragoon, with her tall, muscular body and her fierce, efficient competence.

“We’ll stop overnight at the Druthers,” the Elezen merchant said over his shoulder. “Normally we would push on to Lake Tranquil, but Buscaron’s an old friend. And if there are Ziz on the loose we want to keep the team stabled.”

“You’re the boss,” said Selah. “But I’m inclined to agree about protecting the team.”

Good news, Ginal thought. Like most Miqo’te, she preferred her own legs to a chocobo’s, and the day’s ride had left her sore and stiff. A few drinks, a leisurely dinner, and some pleasant conversation with Selah. Or perhaps there would be some young local men, ripe for a little romantic teasing.

As if sensing her thoughts, Selah turned in the saddle and caught Ginal’s eye with a gesture. “And you and I will have a nice long afternoon for Ziz hunting.”

Ginal mentally cursed her mentor’s energy. “But we drove them off!” she protested.

“Ziz come back. And we could use a little practice.”

And, by “we”, you mean “you,” Ginal thought. Or, in other words, me. Damn you, Selah Phocina!

“We can take care of the team,” the younger merchant assured them. “Happy hunting!”

Do we really have to do this? Ginal wondered. She sat cross-legged on the foot of the rustic cot she had claimed, the one under the window, where she could watch the stars. That left Selah the larger bed, but that was fine with Ginal. The long-limbed Hyur looked like a restless sleeper. And, given Ginal’s erotic feelings about Selah, and their physical consequence, she was just as glad not to risk having a leg flung over her at an inopportune moment.

Selah had unpacked her saddle-bag, and arranged the contents in neat piles on one of the shelves in the closet alcove. Ginal could see that she was used to traveling. The older woman’s actions had the look of a half-conscious ceremony — another day, another inn room. At least they had beds and a roof over their heads. If they had continued to Lake Tranquil, as planned, they would have been camping under the stars.

“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes or so,” Selah said. She strode out of the room, leaving her Dragoon lance propped beside the bed. Ginal shrugged, and picked up her own modest weapon, a steel-bladed pole-arm with a shaft of tough, close-grained elm. She supposed Selah might be headed down to the outdoor convenience, but the Dragoon rarely went anywhere without her prized weapon. “Not my sheep, not my haggis,” Ginal thought. She had picked up the phrase from a guild-mate from Coerthas, and the image made her smile.

Ginal’s puzzlement increased when she reached the public room of the inn and saw Selah haggling with the resident weapons vendor. The Hyur hefted a spear and tested its balance, then checked the edge of the blade with a practiced thumb. “I’ll give you a thousand,” she said.

“That’s high-quality work,” the merchant countered. “It could easily fetch five thousand in the open market. But I’ll let you have it for three.”

“One and a half,” Selah said. “And I’ll throw in this aethereal tourmaline ring. You can get six thousand for it, easily. But it’s a mage’s ring, and does me no good.”

The merchant rolled the ring through his fingers. “These things are common as dirt. Two thousand, and the ring, and you have a deal.”

“Done,” said Selah. She slung the new spear across her back. “Ready, Ginal?”

“What about your lance?” the Miqo’te asked, flicking an ear toward the stairs.

“Just evening the playing field,” Selah replied with a wicked grin. “And, since your bird won’t fight, I’m leaving Dinornis in the stable.”

Was this some weird kind of training ritual? If Ginal had owned a Relic weapon that flashed white fire, she would never have traded it for a simple spear. And if she had a chocobo that fought like an equal partner… She shrugged. Not my sheep, not my haggis. Selah was making some kind of point, but Ginal didn’t have to rise to the bait. She just had to get through the afternoon’s hunt and back to a good dinner in a comfortable inn.

The Lancer and the Dragoon headed north from the inn, scanning the ground for Ziz spoor. A blind beggar could track those beasts, Ginal thought. They broke branches, they stepped in mud, and they pooped frequently, at great volume. And they stank. Even for top predators, Ziz were careless. The pack had headed straight through the forest, leaving their mess and scent behind them. Soon they were joined by others, a trail coming in from the east.

“Maybe ten, total?” Selah asked.

“Perhaps twelve. Including a herd-master and a couple of young.” Ginal knew she was showing off, but forest-lore was her skill, and she didn’t mind being better than Selah for once.

Selah examined the tracks and nodded, as if confirming Ginal’s assessment. They followed the combined pack deeper into the forest.

They found them gathered in a clearing, bowing and posturing in cryptic Ziz-ceremonies. The breeding females had massed near the center with their young, while the heavier males and older females stood guard.

There were twenty-two Ziz all together.

“Ouch,” said Ginal softly. “Too many for us to handle. Best go back and alert the Wood Wailers.”

“We could do that,” Selah said. She leaned on her spear and examined the Ziz with an air of casual experience. “Or we could use this as a lesson in confronting overwhelming force. Because there aren’t too many, if we pull them in groups and dispatch them efficiently.”

Lecture time, Ginal sensed. Twelve preserve us from mentors!

“I’ve watched you fight, Ginal. And, while you have an excellent ferocity and power for your size, you could use a bit more strategy. And, if I may be blunt, less gratuitous show-boating. Those flips and twirls you performed this morning were attractive, but they added nothing to your effectiveness.”

Ginal blushed. She knew that much of her acrobatics had been showing off her body to Selah. And Selah knew it too. Damn the woman, anyway!

“Then there is the matter of rotation — the order in which you use your attacks. I know you understand this, because it’s one of Ywain’s classic lectures. But, for instance, there’s the Phlebotomize stab-and-twist. As you know, it opens up a vein and weakens your opponent over time from blood loss. Not much of a hit at first, but it adds up. But you use it late in your rotation, when your prey is already half dead. Don’t. Open with it, and keep renewing it as necessary. The cumulative damage will save you a few strokes at the end, and a few strokes are a few seconds, which may be required elsewhere. Remember — efficiency is better than technical fireworks, in a battle situation.”

“Got it,” Ginal muttered. Honestly, Selah was treating her like a green recruit. She’d heard this all a hundred times before. “Shall we pull?”

“Soon. I just wanted to remind you about partnering and combinations. I’ll be playing ‘tank’ in this fight, so I need you to take the rear and flank, and use the strokes that do the most damage in those positions, followed by the appropriate combo. Again, a matter of seconds saved. But seconds count. And keep aggro off of you, unless you see I need a respite. Got it?”

“Got it. Who shall we kill first?”

“The herd bull. He’s at the edge, and we need to eliminate him fast, so he doesn’t keep bothering us. Pulling on three… two… one… HYAHHH!”

The startled bull-Ziz found himself surrounded by flashing steel. A moment later, he was bleeding heavily and stunned by Selah’s vicious leg-swipe. But the junior bulls were on the run, and they had only seconds before they arrived. Ginal moved in on the flank for a heavy thrust, then stepped behind the beast for a deadly-efficient two-stroke combination. Selah was suddenly airborne, wielding her simple spear like a Dragoon’s lance, gaining power from her fall. The bull collapsed under the impact, and Ginal finished him off.

There was no time for congratulations. The junior bulls were moving in with strategy, flanking the lancers. Ginal found herself fighting back-to-back with Selah, fending off razor-sharp beaks and claws. It was a messy fight and a tiring one, but Ginal kept her opponents bleeding and weakened. The first bull fell as Selah dispatched a second. Then there were only two, and the going was easier. But still not a rout — the matriarchs were moving in, leaving the breeding females with their young.

“Fall back to the trees,” Selah shouted over her shoulder. “We’ll try to break them up, take them in small groups.”

Ginal was too busy to answer, but she kited two attacking matriarchs away from the rest of the pack, noticing that the others were not anxious to follow. Selah was doing the same with her adversary, which she finished with a disemboweling thrust before joining Ginal with her opponents, efficiently catching their attention while Ginal took over flank-and-side supporting damage for the kill.

The rest of the pack was in full flight now, squawking and crashing through the forest. “Follow them?” Ginal panted, leaning on her spear.

“We’ve done enough. That lot will head back over the border. And maybe tell their uncles and cousins that South Shroud’s no picnic.” Selah clapped Ginal on the shoulder. “Good work, friend. I knew you could do it!”

Ginal considered a snarky reply, but let it go. She had probably deserved the “Lancer 101” lecture she had been given, and Selah was actually not a bad teacher. Just a little, well, condescending. And pedantic. And also distractingly gorgeous.

“So — dinner?”

“Dinner. But let’s not track blood and Ziz guts all over Buscaron’s nice clean dining room. There’s a swimming hole in the river near the inn, reasonably private and safe from bitey-scratchy things.”

“Um, okay.” Ginal certainly agreed she could use a bath. And washing clothes was a good excuse to keep them on while swimming. Which she would most certainly do.

Because Selah might be gorgeous, but Ginal was not yet ready to give her a detailed anatomy lesson.

The swimming hole was everything Selah had promised — deep and clean, private and blessedly uninfested with dangerous beasts. It spanned a bend of the river, with leaning trees and broad, sun-washed boulders dividing it into smaller, secluded pools. Privacy, Ginal thought. Would Selah be offended if I claimed one of these as my own?

“I’ll be here,” Selah remarked, indicating a deep green-glass pool with a sweep of her arm. “You can join me, or explore, as you prefer. Keep your lance handy, but I don’t think you’re going to need it.”

As if she read my thought, Ginal thought. Or, more likely, as if she read my body language. A good lancer becomes almost psychic, from constantly reading their opponent’s intentions on the battlefield. It was a skill Ywain had demonstrated many times, during their training sessions. “A good lancer is an excellent poker player,” was another of his aphorisms. Ginal wondered if Selah was a gambler.

She walked slowly along the river, exploring the complex of deep, inviting pools. Just before the stream narrowed again to course over shallow rapids, she found the perfect bathing pool — deep but sun-drenched, with a clean rocky shallow area and an inviting boulder island. Ginal stripped of her bloody outer garments and sat in the shallows, scrubbing them against stones. She had gathered some Miqo’te Soapweed on her walk, and the nasty stains soon washed away. She spread her shirt and breeches on the trunk of an ash tree that leaned out over the water, and set her boots and lance safely on the shore. Then it was time for serious swimming.

Like most of Eorzea’s cat people, Ginal had ambivalent feelings toward water. She loved being clean, and the cleansing feel that water provided. But she was never really comfortable underwater. Water was a smothering element as well as a cleansing one, and diving deep felt like inviting death.

Besides, water made her tail soggy. Ginal struck out across the pond to the boulder island. The rock sloped into the pool at its upstream end before breaking off, providing a nice bathing-bench. She rubbed her body and undergarments with the Soapweed and rinsed clean. Then, after checking carefully for watchful eyes, she stripped naked and gave her underthings a good scrubbing. And, finally, the parts of her body that the underthings had sheltered.

It felt so good to be clean. And it felt even better to be at rest, after the frantic danger of the battle. Ginal crawled onto the sun-warmed boulder and lay face-down on its speckled granite surface. She rested her head on her folded arms, and drifted toward a comfortable sleep.

A cheerful whistle roused her. After a moment, she recognized Selah’s distinctive tone. The dragoon was warning Ginal of her approach, giving her time to cover anything that needed covering. Ginal’s ears flattened in embarrassment, but she also appreciated her partner’s tact. She pulled on her panties, but left her camise lying on the rock. She didn’t have to feel ashamed of her breasts.

“Oh, there you are,” Selah called across the water. “I see you found the boulder. It’s a good fishing spot, too. The trout hang out under its edges when the sun is high. Are you ready for dinner?”

It was weird talking to her like this — half-naked, with her clothes and lance out of reach. And Selah’s clothes still damp, her auburn hair slicked back and dripping, her face flushed with the exertion of swimming. There was something astonishingly intimate about it. But it also felt comfortable, like a scene that would be replayed many times, with subtle variations.

“I’m starving,” Ginal replied. She pulled on her camise and plunged into the water, sputtering as she surfaced halfway to the shore. Selah politely turned away as Ginal finished dressing.

“At least it’s warm,” Ginal remarked as she pulled on her boots. “I suppose you’re going to lecture me for not keeping my lance within reach.”

“Sounds like I don’t have to,” Selah replied amiably. “No harm, no foul.”

The sun sank behind the trees as they approached Buscarron’s Druthers. Their path was submerged in deep blue shadows. Like being underwater, Ginal mused. But peaceful. Unless something decided to attack — that could always happen, in the woods. Water and shadow and the sense of peace and danger. Hunger and the need to sleep. The raucous calls of the Ziz, their hides lurid yellow against the blue-gray of the forest. I’ll sleep like a log tonight, she thought, and I’ll have great dreams.

“What are you going to do with the extra lance?” she asked suddenly. “Keep it as a backup?”

Selah fingered the shaft of the weapon over her shoulder. “I could sell it for almost what I paid. But I thought I would give it to you.”

Ginal made a small, astonished noise, not quite a question.

“If you want it, of course. But I think you are due for an upgrade.”

“Thank you. I… would be honored.”

Selah bowed slightly. “You are most welcome. You earned it in the Ziz fight. And that’s our inn ahead through the trees. Do I smell antelope stew?”

“It smells wonderful,” said Ginal. “Race you to dinner!”

She dashed ahead, followed by Selah’s laughter and agile footsteps. A warm, comfortable feeling filled her soul. Selah was giving her the lance! Whenever she wielded it in battle, she would remember this moment, and this feeling. A feeling which was strange, and yet familiar — like something she had dreamed of, when she imagined being in love.

**Please read Companion Piece 4: Another Mile of Broken Road-Selah's Side for the full effect of this story**