::Where are you going?::

Of course, the little brat had to ask that now, didn't she. Well, really, she wasn't much of a brat-- Netahiln almost even liked her... almost-- and she had to ask that every time she left, but this time she actually didn't want to tell her.

::Out,:: she answered shortly.

::Out where?:: Natron persisted. Every other time Netahiln had gone out, she'd been perfectly happy to tell her where she was going, so of course she was going to persist now, when she did differently.

Of course, before, she'd been leaving for work. Now, it was personal.

::None of your damn business,:: Netahiln growled.

Natron didn't say anything else, she just sat there and crackled, her bright green flames snapping around her face as she frowned. Nosy brat; why couldn't she just take "no" for an answer? Netahiln snorted at her and went the last few paces to the door.

::Can I come, then?:: Natron said just before she stepped out.

In answer, Netahiln just walked out, growling, and let the door slide shut behind her.

It had been almost a week since Natron had decided to enter her life, take up residence in her apartment, and, as she said herself, mooch off her supplies. Natron hadn't left much, really, which made Netahiln wonder how much of a "help" she intended to be. True, things had started off sounding pretty good, with Natron being positive and intelligent-seeming-- for a kitten-hatchling-thing, anyway-- and the daughter of a goddess and a pair of elementals. Well, and a being who was totally on fire, who knew far more than a hatchling ought to, and who was a lot more optimistic than Netahiln herself was.

Since then, though, she hadn't done anything about helping, but had done a lot about eating her food. And occasionally trying to drink her small supply of bleach, which made no sense. Netahiln had offered to take her on a tour of the station, but she'd said she didn't need one and she didn't want to advertise her presence yet. The only things she'd left the apartment for, in fact, were Netahiln's bi-weekly psionic lessons, which she'd actually begged to be able to attend. Apparently the kitten was a fairly decent psionic, herself, and wanted some training, too.

Really, Netahiln wouldn't have minded having Natron along-- she was surprisingly easy to get along with, which made her a little wary-- if it didn't mean now she had to pay more for her lessons, since there was two of them and it took rather longer. Plus she was spending more for her weekly groceries, with two of them to feed. Plus she had to replace the three phones she'd smashed and get some fireproof bedding for Natron, so she wouldn't set anything on fire while she slept. Plus Natron had specifically asked for more bleach, which she tried to refuse to buy her, because bleach was bad for a growing kitten and she didn't want to wind up with any more deities with grudges against her. But Natron insisted, and insisted it wouldn't hurt her. Well, it was her own funeral, Netahiln supposed.

Since deciding not to kick little Natron out on the street, Netahiln was working twice as much as she had been before just to make ends meet. She still worked her more shady, back-street "career" of favors and barter-services, since it would be suicide in more ways than one to quit that, as well as her usual odd jobs fixing and reorganizing electrical circuits. Now she had picked up a new, slightly more stable part-time job with a small mechanic company on Atu's surface, repairing the electrical components of various desert-traversing vehicles. She had realized quickly that she couldn't make do on the two small incomes alone anymore, and though admittedly the third was going to give her the ability to put a little bit away each week, tosave, she still resented having to give up what had been both spying and recreational time in order to work it. She had no idea what she'd do when Habithi got back. Maybe kick Natron out.

All in all, Natron was being much more of a leech than an aid, so far. And whenever she asked what the brat did all day while Netahiln was working, all she got in answer was "learning" or sometimes "practicing". Just what she was learning or practicing, Netahiln had no idea, but it certainly made her ravenous at the end of the day. For such a tiny thing, she could certainly put away a lot of food.

None of that made her terribly kindly disposed to the brat, though, lounging around at home doing whatever for at least twelve hours a day, usually more, while Netahiln was out earning honest and dishonest pay just to keep her fed. She certainly wasn't going to take her along for something personal. Especially not when she wasn't sure why she was going, to begin with.

Well, no, she knew. Kalaia had asked her to come back to that same psuedo-park on her street, with its fake grass and plastic jungle-gym, this time on this day. She'd reminded her of it. Several times. Netahiln hadn't made a promise-- hell, she'd tried to say no-- but Kalaia had made sure she didn't forget. It was the least she could do, she supposed, to come. Since she wasn't working just then, despite her busy schedule otherwise.

And if anyone tried to tell her she had carefully avoided scheduling anything for that one hour of time on that specific day-- or brought up the fact that she'd turned down a possibly lucrative albeit probably dangerous body-guard duty just to keep it free-- she would bite them. So she wanted to see her bond. She was allowed, dammit.

So it was with even greater annoyance that, when she stepped out of the lift-- she'd taken more mundane methods of transportation, because with all the work she'd been doing, her magic was utterly exhausted; she could only hope that her stamina would improve with practice-- she found Natron sitting serenely in front of the doors, as if waiting for her. She scowled down at her.

::You're a baby. How did you get down here so fast?::

Natron shrugged, which was more of a rippling of flame than an actual shift of her shoulders. ::It doesn't matter. I want to meet her.::

Netahiln bared her teeth, half in furious surprise that she'd been seen through so easily and half in equally furious denial. ::No.::

::Why not? I'm not going to hurt her.::

::I don't care. This is private. Private.::

::And the last time you brought someone to meet her, she got hurt,:: Natron pointed out solemnly. ::And you don't want that to happen again.::

It was only the whim of fate that saved little Natron from being swept up in Netahiln's jaws and chomped in two. Right then was when Kalaia turned a corner, saw Netahiln's snarling teeth and Natron's flickering green flame, and let out a little, startled scream.

Netahiln jumped-- Natron jumped-- and both Charity and Joy, the latter still small enough to ride on Kalaia's shoulder, jumped and growled. Charity actually jumped in front of Kalaia protectively, as if afraid of more balefire pain, or maybe just of Netahiln herself. Natron actually jumped behind Netahiln's paw... for no reason Netahiln could even imagine. She gave the brat a swat away from her, glaring irritably.

"N-Neta?" Kalaia stammered. "What is-- who is--"

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to meet you like that."

Both of them looked sharply at Natron, who was picking herself up and shaking herself off. It was the first time Netahiln had heard her speak. She had a deep voice, for a hatchling. Suddenly, it reminded her that Habithi hadn't spoken aloud until he met Kalaia, either. Natron, however, was smiling a little bit and actually did look apologetic. Even her fire had stoked itself, dimming as if to make the girl more comfortable. 

"I'm Natron," she continued. "It means, er, 'salt'. Sort of. Natron Chxalli. I came to help Netahiln."

Everyone stared at her for a long minute. Charity spoke first, still protectively: "Help her the way the last one did?"

Natron smiled more. "Help her get rid of the last one, if I have my way. If you don't believe me, you can touch me."

There was an even longer and even more uncomfortable pause. Natron knew what she was asking-- Netahiln had told her that whole story, painful though it was-- and she had to know it was unfair to ask that. ::Natron,:: she began angrily, but Kalaia cut her off.

"Come here, then." And she held out her bent, crooked claw of a hand to Natron, crouching-- bending her awful little legs so that her new, insectoid belly brushed the ground-- to offer it as if to a dog to sniff. The hatchling padded over, flames flickering low about her, and touched her fiery nose to Kalaia's fingers.

Nothing happened.

Nothing except Kalaia slowly starting to smile.

Chapter Twelve

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