But then another thought came to RuuKag. The blaze of the great fire pit in the center of the mud city consumed the solid wood and sent it up to the gods. Through the Oculei he could see the stars of the night sky beyond-the very realm of the gods-welcoming the smoke and freeing it from the cares of the world.
“RuuKag-ki?”
The manticore, startled from his reveries, looked down into the face of a young gnome. By his reckoning the creature could not have seen more than twelve years in this world. “What do you want, gnome?”
The large, liquid eyes of the youth gazed up at him. “Your story, RuuKag-ki! I want to hear your story.”
The manticore shrugged his field pack higher on his shoulders. “I have business to attend! Go away.”
“You are leaving us, then?”
“Yes,” RuuKag said at once. “I mean, no! I’ve just got to go outside for a while. . I’ve just got something I have to do.”
“Not with a field pack,” the gnome replied, pointing up at the manticore’s back. “You’re leaving forever.”
“I’ve business to attend to, boy!” RuuKag said, pushing past the small gnome.
“But you have to tell me your story!” the gnome said, the urgency in his voice making it louder.
RuuKag turned in frustration. “Quiet! You want to wake the entire city!”
“Just tell me your story,” the young gnome urged. “Look! We’re right next to the storytelling cavern, and there’s no one there now.”
“I don’t want to tell you my story!” RuuKag growled.
“But you’ll be lost!” the gnome wailed.
“Quiet!” RuuKag said quickly. “What are you bellowing about?”
“Your story,” the gnome replied, his eyes tearing up. “If you don’t tell someone your story, you’ll be forgotten. No one will remember that you passed through the world. Your story will be lost, and your soul will not be recognized by the other souls in the sky!”
RuuKag looked up through the Oculei once more. The stars were looking back down on him. He felt their disapproval. “No one wants to hear my story,” he said at last.
“I do,” replied the gnome.
RuuKag sighed. He needed to get out of the mud city, and the last thing he needed was a whimpering, wailing gnome cub calling attention to what was supposed to be an unnoticed departure. “Fine! A short story and then I’ve got to leave.”
“Your story,” the young gnome insisted.
RuuKag sighed again. “Yes, my story. What’s your name little cub?”
“Jith!” the gnome replied.