| Hoity Misunderstands Orders Hoity's disagreements with Muzkgash have never been pleasant. This time, however, his hollering and shouting reached a new level of red-in-the-face. Good old Muzkgash -- virtuous, brave, tireless, and noble. Hoity should be ashamed of herself. Hoity rises up from her seat and trots over toward Ragakmog, her brow furrowed and her mouth tightly pursed together. "Master," she calls, when in hearing range, "What we burn in this pit here?" She makes a dramatic gesture with her arms that embraces the bleak horizon and treeless expanse around them. "I see no wood. What now?" Hoity sighs as she is ignored by Ragakmog, and begins to traipse around the camp looking for something to eat. Hungry, tired, crabby, and dejected, she mutters, "Don't care if there is no wood. Burn dirt! Don't care." She slaps at another Snaga that gets in her way, gets cuffed on the head for her troubles, and wanders off in a daze. Pushing a snaga in front of him over, Muzkgash snarls. "Good, the work here is finished. Now, skai! On with the fixing of the basic weapons, the Spears and such! And rest, curse you! After that, rest!" He spits to the ground and scans the camp, catching a glimpse of Hoity. He doesn't recognise her as being the rock-saluting snaga, but he is in a foul mood, and marches quickly over to her. "You! Slave! Here now! What are you doing? LAzing about I suppose! Wait a second....." He runs his chin then exlaims angrily, "You are that skai whom the superior Ragakmog ordered me to watch, so that you work!" He spits again, and wipes his mouth with his ilde, hand, then bangs the skulls at his side again, for no apparent reason. Hoity peers around at Muzkgash, and then straightens up, rolling her eyes and pulling herself as straight and tall as she can. "Master Muskox," she says, "I am wait for the fire, but what can I burn? Logaz tell me make a fire, but can you see wood here?" She is tired, and her voice wavers a bit, "You tell me what I should burn." She nods decisively Grinning evilly Muzkgash snarls at Hoity, cursing her. "Fool! I am Muzkgash! Pathetic, useless snaga! I know what we can burn!!! We'll burn YOU!" He roars loudly, and spits on the ground. "A fool you are! Find something that will burn, anything! And quickly! Talk to the foresters! Fetch some wood from the supply cart! Useless wood that is!" Hoity flips her hand up in a half-hearted salute, and turns on her heel to traipse away to where the carts are parked. She comes up to the first one, grasps the side of it, and pulls with all her might. Straining and grunting, bracing herself against the cart, she manages to rip off one of the side planks, causing the contents of the cart to shift inside, and almost spill out. The cart contains some metal tools, possibly used by smiths in making weapons. She pulls the plank, nails down, away from the cart, leaving a gash in the bleached earth as she drags it toward the sodded fire pit. Muzkgash snarls at Hoity and spits in rage. "YOU USELESS FOOL!!!!!!! DON't PULL THE CART TO PIECES! I SAID WOOD FROM THE CART!!! ARGGHH!!!!" He screams and fury, and lets off an extremely colorful string of curses. "Sharku! Skai! Argh!!!!" He moans as the remaining tools fall out of the cart and axes, spears, and shields snap under the wight of otehr axes, shields, and spears. Hoity looks up at the frothing dog and frowns. She glares at the plank in her hand as if it has suddenly bit her, and drops it quickly. "Yes, Master Muskox," she says, "I was only moving... this... wood... I was only carting... this... fire... to make the cart... for the wood...." She falters and stammers and a little tiny fake dramatic tear pushes itself out of her eye. "You said make a burn out of anything," she shouts a bit petulantly, obviously driven to belligerence by her extreme fatigue, "You said burn the cart!" She picks the plank back up and continues to drag it resolutely to the burn pit, as if she is just sincerely following orders, she marches smartly. Muzkgash snarls loudly, and curses again, looking up to the skies. He grabs his spear, and marches over to Hoity, the massive creature picking her up with ease. He rattles her about a bit, and shouts, "Fool! I SAID WOOD IN THE CART NOT THE CART!!!!!!! YOU DISOBEY ORDERS FOOLISH ONE?" He smiles, and drops Hoity to the ground. "Pathetic useless creature. Now, you will work for the rest of the night, repairing the cart, and repairing the...." He proceeds to count the damaged weapons, "The 10 damaged spears!" Hoity 's teeth rattle around in her head as the gigantic Dog shakes her like a rag doll. Finally, the meaning of his words penetrates her wooden skull, and as she is tossed toward the cart, her face brightens with understanding. She briskly trots over to the plank, picks it up and drags it back to the cart, where she eyes the damage. Picking up a hammer that is handy (if slightly broken) she attempts to fix the cart, but can't quite reach up to get the nails in. She sighs, settling herself to a long night of labor, but is secretly smug in the knowledge that someone will have to teach her how to fix the spears, and maybe that person will be Muzkgash. Muzkgash spits again, seething and shuddering like jelly. He strides over to Hoity, and grunts, "And you will not have help from anybody! If the cart is not fixed by the morn, the superiors will here of the reason we are delayed from moving camp, if it happens to be tommorow." He watches Hoity with contempt, and shakes his head. "You are a foolish one, slave, and will pay for it." Hoity sighs and beckons to another snaga. "Bend over," she requests, "Make stairs for me to this cart?" The snaga reluctantly gets down on his hands and knees and Hoity climbs on his back, now tall enough to repair the cart. As the night goes on, she fiddles with the spears, binding them together with twine, trying to cement them with chewed dirt, and finally laying hands on some rope with which to affix the broken ends together. When she has finally finished, she flips them into the cart, which is lopsided but functional, and passes out in a dead sleep underneath it, exhausted but mildly proud, if she is able to feel such a thing as pride. She snores, a bit of rope left in her hand, legs askew, dead to the world. |