The puerile shook her head and burst into a struggling yell, opposing about the only edible thing in this swamp: mushy fruits of the colour of starset, cyan. Wolfheze pleaded in all ways and tones of voice, but she was punching the air and fighting to break free from his aggressive grasp on her frail body. 'Eat!' He raised his voice. 'Aaaah!' She widened her eyes in threat.
The trio were in the middle of a flat swamp. There was nothing above half the height of Wolfheze in a seemingly endless swamp that extended beyond the horizon. The bee wasn't helping either.
'Shir Wolfhezhe! Thish nectar is delicious!' Said Safir-Flavum in amazement. He never thought of drinking nectar that was sweeter than the one back home, the flower that was explicitly reserved for the King of the Bees. He continuously nibbled the flower until he glutted. Unexpectedly to the bee, after literally sucking the sweet life of the flower, it wheezed weakly and sadly as it withers and have its dark-green petals fall one after another, sobbing for a second or two before dying.
The bee was startled at the scenery and quickly flew to the struggling blonde.
'Eat this, please!' Pleaded the blonde.
Arnitikós crossed her eyes and arms and blew a raspberry at the struggling blonde. She then ran and intentionally fell on the worst possible spot, a patch of shallow and runny mud. It splattered everywhere, staining herself from head to toe and the face of Wolfheze. He looked in awe as she rolled on the mud, and, by chance, she noticed Ambassador Safir-Flavum, triggering her hunter instincts to catch the buzzing insect. He, of course, flew higher like the coward he is. The blonde lost hope of feeding the girl with now apparent ribs and continued along the muddy path proposed by the bee.
'I remember,' said Wolfheze, walking, holding the girl's hand, 'I've been to a place like this before.'
'A swamp, you mean?' Said the bee.
'A swamp. . . yes. It was a very wet planet.'
'You travelled to planets!' Exclaimed the bee.
The man stopped briefly and gazed at the bee, 'I'm the "Sailor of Worlds," Safir. I've been to planets, stars, mavrocavi — arcs! I've been to arcs, Safir.'
The bee asked, 'What have you witnessed in that world you've told me about, Sir?'
The trio continued walking. Arnitikós tried to listen and acted intrigued, and she placed her index on her lips. The blonde answered, 'About the only thing I've known in my life was ice and rock. Until one man came and changed everything.' The bee softly landed on Wolfheze's yellow fluff, and for once, they all looked calm and tranquil despite the mud. He continued, 'Since then, I've never known peace. Just as the peace you've been stripped of from your bee-home — it's the same thing.' He then snapped loudly. It scared the puerile a little, 'It is all painful!' The blackness around his eyes looked like they were crawling in eerie movements.
The bee innocently asked, 'And to whom do you attribute your pain from your previous world, Sir?'
Wolfheze's face turned dark, and there was a tremendous amount of suppressed evil that he couldn't control. He gazed at the puerile, and she fell into dread. It was the same look when she was being strangled by him the time they met. He turned and treaded towards her, the energy around him shrieking of death upon Arnitikós. He answered the bee's question gloomily, 'This foolish girl.'
Arnitikós yelped at his tone and walked backwards slowly. She feared his now unsafe azure stare. 'Aaaaah!' She raised her hands, held her chest, and gazed at the bee, pleading for help while the man, though short, was emotionally towering over her. He effortlessly started strangling her, and both were on their feet. Fear made the puerile stand firmly up. She choked weakly and looked pleadingly at the blonde, but he was not having it.
'Sir Wolfheze!' Yelled the bee, flying down facing his eyes, 'Stop it!'
Red tears ran down the puerile's cheek, and she cried helplessly. The bee tried his best but to no avail. And then the blonde wailed, pathetically, too. His grip weakened, and he fell on the puerile, releasing her neck. They both fell into the shallow, muddy waters. He could not kill her. He pulled her by the collar, and his face was messy with grief and cluelessness; 'Why did you have to be insane!' He sobbed, and she observed, only feeling his pure emotions, never understanding the reason behind them, yet she cried. The bee was at unease; he would cry if he had tear glands, but he could only wheeze and shake at the sight. The feeling was strong within the two that it was metaphysically channelled to the bee. The blonde held the puerile closely and sunk his head over her chest. He shook and sobbed silently. The puerile felt immense compassion, and she softly ran her grey hands over the blonde's head, and she sang calmly, 'la la, la, laaa. . .' it was an inherently simple melody. She sang until the man stopped his silent cry.
For the first time since the man left Elpis — the clusters of floating rocks — he felt an affinity that reminded him of his mother, Haldren, and perhaps one of his companions of the Annular Fellowship, Kamalia, who also was a mother herself. Arnitikós, however, was never a mother, but in a way, she begot the world that is the Annulus. That does not mean she was a good mother. Haldren and Kamalia were subjectively good mothers, and the puerile in her non-puerile days was acting as the worst mother to the Annulus and its dwellers. On herself — in the Annular days — she was ever-worsening. But now?
'Eh, eh, eh. . .' Arnitikós called the blonde, feeling his psyche might have been lost. He leaned back and rested on his knees. The bee intervened, 'Woflheze, what have you. . .'
'I don't know, Safir,' Wolfheze replied, not feeling awkward from resting on his supposed mortal enemy, 'Metaphysical intervention? It might be that one man, the Laniakeast of them all. He may be guiding us.'
Then, they marched through the swamp. And Wolfheze was at his calmest since his arrival to Sciriala. He held Arnitikós's hand, and the bee sat on his right shoulder. The blonde told endless tales about that man, Elias. How his appearance in the Annulus stirred the very fabric of that universe, the countless incidents Wolfheze and his Fellowship had to face and endure, the things that broke him in that world, and how learning the ways of metaphysics was the beginning of his seemingly endless demise.
'One time,' the blonde chuckled (it made Safir shake his head. He laughs? Thought the bee), 'We faced a creature as large as the universe, and I thought that striking him on his skin was wise. He ended up being our pursuer till the world crumbled!'
The bee's sentience was helpful, and neither the bee nor the man realised how important that fact was to them. Company was a thing that Wolfheze grew up and lived around, and Safir-Flavum, in a sense, was no different from Elias or anyone else to Wolfheze's previous companions. The bee was a good listener, too.
Wolfheze became a storyteller through this swamp. The bee listened carefully, and the puerile was silent. Then, the silence was broken by an aggressive roar from her stomach. She pulled Wolfheze's arm and pointed at her stomach, rubbing it alongside a nervous smile. He exclaimed.
'Oh — now you want to eat!'