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The small patch of salvis yielded plenty for him, though it would have barely whetted a Traiti's appetite. Dessert came from a toli vine that was strangling a nearby soh tree orange berries that looked something like jelly beans and smelled like dirty socks. Despite Hovan's assurances, he bit into the first one cautiously.
"If you're hungry, I've still got some salvis from last night." The big cat rose and padded over to sit across the coals from him, extending the two forked tongues that were its speech, as well as its manipulative, organs. "I have eaten well since my escape," it said, gesturing with them, "but I thank you. You handle yourself well in the woods, for a human."
Tarlac couldn't help laughing at that incongruous idea, even as he slathered a thick layer onto the day's find of salvis roots. There were more than enough for a human, though again, not for a Traiti.
Filia atque uxore superstitibus, potest videri etiam beatus; incolumi dignitate, florente fama, salvis affinitatibus et amicitiis, futura effugisse.
He pushed the coals of his fire aside with a green stick and built them back into a blaze, which gave him enough light to unearth his dinner and he burned his fingers, incautiously trying to pick up the roots by hand. He called himself several varieties of stupid while he sucked his fingers and speared the salvis roots with his knife, setting them on soh leaves to cool.
They could easily become a trade item, a gourmet delicacy, if he managed to achieve a peace. Back at his camp, Tarlac dug a shallow hole for the salvis roots off-center of his cleared fire area, and covered them with a thin layer of dirt. He wished he could bake them coated with mud instead, but he had nothing to carry water in.
He wasn't sure what he was to do about them, or about his Vision, though he was positive that it would be essential. The Lords only intervened when it was vital. He wondered briefly if Hovan had been granted a Vision, and if so what it had been, then he decided it didn't matter. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he sat up and began munching on a cold salvis root.
But it was tough by Traiti standards, and damn near impenetrable for a human, even with a knife. By the time he'd peeled off a half-dozen strips, one hand was blistered and the sun was getting low. He settled on salvis root for dinner, apprehensive about handling a plant that bore a strong outward resemblance to poison oak, but he was hungry.
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