“Early”, as it turned out, meant “around 5:30 in the morning” early.
“Come on, Princess,” said Stormwalker, lightly jabbing her in the ribs.
“Don’ wanna,” mumbled Twilight, and rolled over in her hammock. She’d managed to get a good night’s sleep, and had gone to bed early in preparation, but 5:30 in the morning was 5:30 in the morning.
Stormwalker poked her again, harder this time. “Princess, stop trying to slack off. This is your job. You’re doing a disservice to Equestria. Get up.”
“Fi’e mo’e min’tes,” moaned Twilight.
“Let me try,” said someone else. It sounded like Spike, but it couldn’t be Spike, not after he’d slept in yest-
Twilight yelped and jumped out of her hammock as a bucket of water hit her. It wasn’t cold, but it was still a shock to her system. She fell to the ground, sopping wet and her legs and wings in a tangle.
She rubbed her eyes and looked up. Stormwalker was standing above her, looking impassive, while Spike was standing over her, holding a still-dripping bucket and grinning from frill to frill. “What was that about not sleeping in?”
“Laugh it up, Spike,” Twilight muttered. She shook herself off, drenching Spike and Stormwalker. “Laugh it up.”
“Breakfast” was essentially a grab-and-go thing Twilight shoveled into her mouth without even tasting. Anything to cut down on the time. Once she’d gathered together the few things Livingstone had said she’d need, Twilight was off the ship and heading into Bandari Mji along with Spike, Stormwalker, and Cumulus.
But as she walked, she turned thoughts over in her head. It’d occurred to her yesterday: was Livingstone trying to manipulate her?
On the one hoof, the whole thing was a bit suspicious. Yes, I’ll be your translator, rather than the one you brought. She could hold both sides of a conversation that way. Basically get whatever she wanted, as long as she was smart.
But was she that smart? If she was, there was no reason she couldn’t go through the jungle with them and then ensure an “accident” happened to Zecora. Oh, what a darn shame. At least you’ve got me to help! It wouldn’t even need to be fatal, just something that’d make it impractical for her to be a translator. Maybe break some ribs or something.
And the timing. She’d never suspected ponies had been coming until yesterday, and it’d only been a few hours before she suggested the plan. Could she really have come up with a plan in that time? Or was she just winging it? Surely she couldn’t be winging it; Twilight had had the strength of mind to come across the ocean, she wasn’t going to be that easily manipulated on the fly. Maybe with planning, Twilight admitted to herself, but not on the fly. Right?
But given all that, if Livingstone trusted Applejack and Zecora with Idube, why didn’t she trust Twilight with Idube, too? Was she that paranoid about Twilight’s safety? Or was it something else? She might just be panicking, but if she was, she was hiding it awfully well.
It was all very confusing. But if Livingstone was honestly bringing them to Kulikulu, Twilight decided she’d just have to be alert.
Livingstone was waiting for them at the edge of the docks with a lantern attached to her saddle. She looked as alert as ever. “Come on,” she said. “Follow me.” She headed into Bandari Mji and the jungle.
Yesterday, Twilight hadn’t gone too far into town; the jungle was too intimidating. The front of town was welcoming enough, both in environment and in citizens, but after a while, Twilight had looked at the trees shadowing the streets, remembered everything Livingstone had said about the jungle, and conveniently noticed something closer to the harbor she wanted to check out. She could go in if she had to, easily, but for a casual stroll, it wasn’t something she wanted to look at.
So in spite of Bandari Mji’s small size, Livingstone was taking Twilight to places of the town she’d never been to. Twilight couldn’t help but glance around nervously and try to make out what was beyond the light of Livingstone’s lamp and her own horn. The unfamiliar noises she was hearing out there weren’t helping things, ranging from simple birdsong and rustling bushes to moans of some big animal she didn’t want to imagine.
Suddenly, they broke out of the jungle into a large, circular clearing. On the other side, a few torches dimly illuminated part of the framelike outline of a colossal building. It was impossible to make the whole thing out.
A guard was posted outside the entrance to the building. As Livingstone began speaking with her, Twilight examined the building. Actually, up close, it didn’t look like much of a building at all. It wasn’t framelike, it was a frame, a domed array of crisscrossing bars with a large door, three or four times the size of a zebra, between the torches. The spaces between the bars were a bit too small for a normal-sized pony to fit through, although it was too dark to see what was on the other side, even with the torches. If Twilight was being honest, it looked more like a birdcage than a building.
…Livingstone had never actually said what an impundulu was, Twilight realized.
The guard opened the door and waved Livingstone through. “Wait here,” Livingstone said. She walked into the building (cage?) and began wandering around, squinting in the darkness. After maybe half a minute, she started yelling at something Twilight couldn’t see. The something squawked. It sounded like a bird, but a very big one.
Something started crackling softly and flickering in the dark above Livingstone. It looked like lightning, but like it was behind something. The tone of Livingstone’s voice changed; Twilight couldn’t make out the words, but it was the same soothing tone of voice Fluttershy used to calm frightened or surly animals.
Another squawk came from the cage, and something landed on the ground. It was hard to see clearly; Livingstone’s torch only made out a large shape the size of two or three zebras. Still using the soothing tone, Livingstone slowly began walking towards the door of the cage, occasionally looking back and making “come on” motions. Finally, she was outside the cage. “This,” she said, motioning behind her, “is an impundulu.”
A large bird, large enough for a zebra or a pony to ride, cautiously stepped into the light of the torches. It had a lean, narrow body with a long, thin beak, like it was designed to cut through the air. Its feathers were a muddy brown and tucked close to its body. Its legs were thick and powerful and tipped with short, but sharp, claws.
Spike, Stormwalker, and Cumulus all took a step back, but Twilight leaned in close, fascinated. None of her books had ever talked about anything like this before. The impundulu might not’ve been anywhere near the size of, say, a full-grown dragon, but it was still the largest bird she’d ever seen. “It’s so… big,” she whispered. Obviously. “What do you do with it? And what’s it doing out here?”
Hearing her, the impundulu surveyed the ponies and squawked plaintively. It rustled its wings, and Twilight saw a few bolts of lightning crackling underneath them.
As the guard began getting out a saddle and bit for the impundulu, Livingstone kept talking. “We do all sorts of things with them. Mail carriers, one-zebra transportation, things in that vein. But mainly weather direction. You know how ponies use pegasi for that? Well, zebras use iimpundulu and their riders. Get them up in the air, move clouds around, that sort of thing.”
The guard must’ve tightened the saddle a bit much, for the impundulu shrieked and began flapping its wings. With each flap, a small bolt of lightning shot down from its wing tips and scorched the ground. As the zebra shied back, Livingstone darted up next to the impundulu and started stroking its neck, crooning softly. The impundulu’s calls quieted to croaks and its flapping slowed.
As she kept stroking its neck, Livingstone turned back to Twilight. “Most cities and towns have a cage or an aviary of some kind to hold iimpundulu, just in case, even if there’s only room for one. And Bandari Mji’s isolation is the main reason there’s only one here now, yes.”
Twilight took another few steps toward the impundulu. It stared at her with an eye that was both beady and giant at the same time. She looked down at its talons, where minuscule lightning bolts were still sounding off with tiny little zaps. Where do they come from? she wondered. She’d seen nothing in Equestria like an animal that could summon lightning at will. Clouds had to practically be bribed in order to get lightning from them, but here w-
“Are you ready, Twilight?” asked Livingstone. In the time Twilight had looked down, she’d somehow managed to climb up into the saddle and get her hooves into handles on the impundulu’s reins, and now she was staring down at Twilight. “Come on. We should go.”
“Actually, can you hang on a moment? I’d like to see the inside of the cage quick a second.”
“If you must, but please, make it quick.”
Twilight pushed a little more magic through her horn to make her light brighter (the impundulu squawked yet again) and quickly glanced inside the cage. It looked almost exactly like a bird cage blown up; it had the bars, the roosts crisscrossing the empty space inside, the water trough, everything. Even the droppings. Twilight pinched her nose.
It was also empty of any other iimpundulu (which struck Twilight as a really awkward plural), and didn’t seem to have enough space for two or more. Evidently, Livingstone was at least telling the truth about not being able to take any more than herself. Twilight reassured herself that at least she had her guards if anything went wrong.
She left the cage. “And I’m good. Spike?” Spike clambered onto her back with a hop. “Ready. Lead the way.”
Livingstone nodded and, with a twitch of her reins and a yell, sent the impundulu climbing into the sky. Twilight lost her for a second in the darkness, then made out the black of her silhouette against the dark blue of the night sky. With Spike clinging to her mane, she followed after, Stormwalker and Cumulus close behind her.
They climbed for a long time, to the point that Twilight could make out orange tinges in the sky that’d been hidden by the curve of the earth from the ground. She couldn’t make out much, unfortunately; it was still much too dark.
Livingstone leveled out and had the impundulu fly a circular holding pattern. “Everyone here?” she asked. “Everyone good? Good!” She wheeled the impundulu around and headed for the beginnings of the sunrise.
It was both a shame and a blessing the impundulu was slower than most pegasi. They flew at an easy pace. It was slower than Twilight would’ve preferred, but she could keep it up most of the day. As the sun finally crested the horizon, Twilight could make out more than vaguest details in the sea of green spread out beneath her. The jungle was thick, with practically no holes in the canopy aside from rivers and the occasional clearing that had been cut down to make a village. It was unfortunate Applejack and Zecora had to travel through it. Fortunately for them, the thickness of the green dwindled as it neared the mountain range Twilight had seen yesterday, eventually vanishing altogether as it climbed the slopes. She couldn’t see much beyond the mountains yet, but she could just make out more green. However, it looked like a lighter, more welcoming green, so it could’ve just been grasslands. She’d have to wait and see.
No one talked much, even taking the physical exertion of flight into account. Stormwalker and Cumulus weren’t the kind to chat during flight, Twilight was still a bit surly over separating from her friends and the possibility of betrayal, and she suspected Livingstone was trying to avoid her.
Spike cleared his throat. “Still mad, Twilight?” he asked her.
Twilight glared ahead for a few moments, but eventually admitted, “Yeah. I’m being petty, I know, but we shouldn’t leave… Who am I kidding, you already heard that a hundred times yesterday.”
“Thirty-seven, actually. And that’s just what you said to me.”
“You counted?” Twilight asked, turning around to look at him.
Spike nodded. “This is completely new, so I thought you’d want to keep track of the statistics.”
“Thanks, Spike,” said Twilight, smiling in spite of herself. “I don’t know how we’ll use those stats, but…”
“Hey, it can’t hurt, right?” Spike said with a shrug.
“Right.” Twilight looked back ahead, back at Livingstone and the impundulu. Livingstone glanced back at them, just to make sure they were still following. Her eyes met Twilight’s for the briefest of moments, then she snapped back ahead.
Assuming she’s not after me, was I being too hard on her? Twilight thought. There was expressing your dislike of someone’s plan to them, but Livingstone looked like she didn’t even want to be noticed by Twilight. That was something else entirely. Of course, she had expressed her dislike an awful lot… How many times? If only she’d kept track of- “Hey, Spike?”
“Hmm?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a record of how many times I told Livingstone I didn’t like her plan, would you?”
“I don’t think so. Give me a second to check.”
Because if she’d said it too often, Livingstone might interpret that as a passive-aggressive expression of dislike of her, when she was doing her best to keep Twilight safe. Really, you can only tell someone it’s a stupid plan before they start reading between the lines and suspecting you’re adding that they’re stupid for making it. It was a stupid plan, but Livingstone, on the other hoof, wasn’t stupid in the slightest. She couldn’t be, not if she’d come to Zebrabwe several times over and apparently gotten into the king’s court.
Assuming she wasn’t lying, of course.
“Sorry, Twilight,” said Spike, “but I couldn’t find anything.”
“Didn’t think so, but thanks for looking.”
“Anytime.”
“And, uh, Spike?”
“Yeah?”
Twilight gestured forward. “Do you think Livingstone’s lying about why she’s taking us to Kulikulu?”
“Lying?” Spike snorted. “Come on, why would she be lying?”
“Well, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”
“Seriously, Twi, what could she do that wouldn’t be easier with her getting you on her side?”
“She could try to control the conversation she’s translating.”
Spike laughed nervously. “Uh, no. I, I know that from experience. That might work for a little while, but it’ll break eventually. She’d forget something she said earlier, or you or the king would react in a way that didn’t match what she claimed to be translating, or something else. There’s just too much going on in a diplomatic mission for that to work.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” Bereft of any other possible explanations, Twilight looked forward again. Livingstone was still staring resolutely forward.
I need to talk to her, thought Twilight. At least find out what she thinks of me. If we stay in silence like this, it’ll only build into animosity. If she’s got other plans for me, that’ll make her more vindictive. And if she’s actually going to be my translator, that… is not a relationship I’m interested in seeing.
When, though, was the question. Flight wasn’t the best time, not with the wind. It wouldn’t do them any good for her to wait until they reached Kulikulu. But Livingstone had said they’d take a break or two along the way, at least one for lunch. That’d probably be good. It didn’t seem likely that they’d be stopping yet, so Twilight decided to wait the few hours until noon.
By the time noon came, they’d passed over the mountains. Beyond them lay, quite simply, the largest grassland Twilight had ever seen.
Equestria had grasslands, true. But they weren’t this unbelievably massive. Once they’d left the mountains behind, it stretched from horizon to horizon in every direction. She’d thought the jungle had been a sea of green, but this was an ocean of green. It threw her sense of scale all out of proportion; small gray dots were actually animals several times her size (Livingstone called them “tembo”) or enormous rock formations jutting out of the ground (Livingstone called them “kopjes”). Even the zebran towns scattered around the plains looked tiny. The unearthly, indescribably, bigly hugely hugeness of it all literally boggled the mind.
Twilight forgot her worries for a moment as she soared above the grassland, slack-jawed by it all. Nothing in Equestria could compare to this. Not by a long shot.
Eventually, Livingstone said they should take a rest and get lunch. Twilight wholeheartedly agreed; she was getting hungry and her wings ached like never before. She’d never flown for that long before, and now she was feeling every second of it.
They landed on the cool surface of one of the kopjes, dozens of feet above the ground. Livingstone pulled out the bit from the impundulu’s beak and let it fly off. “It needs to hunt,” she said to the surprised Twilight, “and it’ll respond to this.” She showed Twilight a whistle she’d been storing in a bag. “Once we’re done, I blow the whistle, and it’ll come right back.”
“Oh.”
But after that, they mostly lunched in silence. It was even more awkward than in the air, now that they were all in close proximity. Stormwalker and Cumulus didn’t seem to mind, but Livingstone spent all her time incredibly interested in either her food or a certain crack on the rock surface. Twilight kept opening her mouth to say something, saying nothing, and closing it again. Spike looked between the two and started giving Twilight disapproving looks. Finally, Twilight said, “What’s up with this plan?”
Livingstone twitched. “What, what do you mean?” She was trying and utterly failing to sound surprised.
“You’re not doing this just for my safety, are you?” Twilight did her best to seem nonconfrontational. If Livingstone had ulterior motives, she could always ramp it up. If she didn’t, it’d be a lot harder to come back down.
“Heh. Noticed that, did you?” Livingstone ran a hoof through her mane. “I, I suppose I should’ve just told you this already, yes. But I, it’s, I don’t know why I didn’t say anything.”
Twilight wanted to scream, Get on with it! But she just flicked her tail and let Livingstone go on.
Livingstone took a deep breath. “I’m not just doing this for me, no,” she said. Her voice was getting a bit quavery in that way that was hard to fake. “It’s… I’ve got a wife and kids back home. Well, they’re not kids kids anymore, no, they’ve grown up, but… you know. And I would be just fine staying here for years and years if I could just let them know I was okay and doing fine. They’re used to me being away for a while, yes, they have been ever since my first trip over. But I was only supposed to be gone for a year, not six. Or more.”
She looked down at the ground and sniffed. “For all I know, they’ve probably already had my funeral. I can’t say I blame them, they knew this was going to be risky. But… but I just want them to know that it’s not my fault that I’m not there for them. And getting you to Kulikulu as fast as possible is one of the easiest ways to do that.”
She looked back up at Twilight. “I’m sorry I ripped you from your friends like that. Really, I am, and in hindsight, I was being greedy. And, and stupid, for not just coming out and telling you that.”
“Really stupid,” said Twilight before she could stop herself.
Livingstone nodded glumly. “Indeed. But I’m not getting any younger, and I want to be able to see them again before I die.” She paused and her voice steadied. “I also want to guarantee your safety for the sake of guaranteeing your safety, yes — you are a princess — but I can’t pretend my personal desires have no influence on this.”
And there was Applejack’s guess. It wasn’t enough for Twilight to completely forget what Livingstone had done — she couldn’t just come out and say why she was doing this to Twilight — but it was hard to hold a grudge for that particular reason, especially since Livingstone seemed genuine. She cleared her throat. “In that case, I’m sorry.”
Livingstone looked up, frowning. “Hmm?”
“I’ve been kind of unfair to you, haven’t I? You just want to get me to Kulikulu quickly, and I go and whine and moan about it all the time.”
“Perhaps a little,” Livingstone said. She grinned oh-so-slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“So, I’m sorry,” said Twilight. “It’s, I don’t know.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Maybe being a princess and having things almost always work out the way I want has spoiled me, and I was taking it out on you. And that’s not fair, you know this place better than me. You’re the pony with the most knowledge of Zebrabwe, after all.”
“I highly doubt it,” said Livingstone, dismissively waving a hoof. “I’ve been here a few times, yes, but I d-”
“No, really,” Twilight said seriously. “I tried to do some research on Zebrabwe before I came here, and your books were always the best-written ones, especially since you’re a primary source. Primary sources on Zebrabwe are few and far between, so I read your books cover to cover multiple times.”
“Devoured, more like,” Spike stage-whispered to Livingstone. “You should’ve seen their spines. Totally broken.”
Twilight ignored him. “And you even have them on a wide range of topics. You know the most about Zebrabwe of anypony.”
“Really.” Livingstone grinned a bit more. “That’s a new one. I’ve never been the top of my field in anything before.”
“So, yeah,” said Twilight. “I shouldn’t’ve just dismissed your plan like that because I didn’t like it. I still don’t like it, but it’s not that bad.”
“I can live with that, yes,” Livingstone said. She nodded. “Apology accepted.”
And that was that. Simple, really. Twilight wasn’t sure why she’d struggled so much to say, but hindsight was 20/20. And if that was all Livingstone wanted, she could help a little, even if they kept going to Kulikulu. “Spike, we have quill and parchment, don’t we?”
“We should,” Spike said. “Just one sec.” He pulled open a bag and began rummaging around in it. “I’m pretty sure I pa- Here we are!” He withdrew a quill in an inkwell and a blank scroll. “You want me to take a letter?”
“Yes, please.” Twilight cleared her throat, put on her Dictating Voice, and looked off into the distance. “Dear Princess Celestia, we arrived in Zebrabwe yesterday, and thus far, there has been nothing particular of note to report. However, I thought that I should bring to your attention that we have found a guide to take us to the zebras’ capital, who is actually an earth pony from Equestria: Dr. Livingstone of Canterlot University, who has made several expeditions to Zebrabwe in the past. Due to complications, her most recent journey here has run much longer than expected, and she has been unable to return to Equestria. She would like to tell her wife-” Twilight paused and looked at Livingstone. “What’s your wife’s name?”
“Dewdrop,” prompted Livingstone. “If you ask around Canterlot U about me, you should be able to find her, yes. How are you going to send the letter?”
Twilight nodded and continued, ignoring the question. “-her wife Dewdrop, as well as the rest of her family, that she is alive and well, and sorely regrets being unable to see or contact them. The rest of the party is fine, and we hope to speak to the zebras’ king soon. Sincerely, Princess Twilight Sparkle.” She paused, then asked Livingstone, “Does that sound good?”
Livingstone batted an ear for a moment and chewed her lip. “I think so, yes. Could you add that I love her and always will? Just that.”
Outside of her vision, Spike glanced at Twilight and made a “wlah, sappy” face, but added it on anyway. “Done!” He breathed out a plume of flame that enveloped the scroll. A sparkling haze of smoke carried the ashes up and to the west, in defiance of the wind.
As Twilight watched it go, she asked Spike, “Has Celestia said anything about the effects of distance with regards to your letter-sending? We’re well outside any distance you could send letters to her in Equestria. Do you think it’ll affect travel time at all?” She stood up and began pacing. “Or maybe not all the letter will make it. Or maybe the information will degrade to illegibility in the transit! Or-”
Spike flicked her on the muzzle to get her to stop. “Maybe a little, but this is pretty simple magic. It’s pretty unlikely that anything bad will happen.”
“I sure hope so,” said Twilight, lightly swatting him back. “And if you’re right, maybe we should consider sending Celestia updates. Not necessarily daily, but whenever we accomplish something important.”
“Celestia doesn’t need to know where you are, Twi. She trusts you. If I were you, I’d only send a letter if something really really good happens, or if something really really bad happens.”
“Maybe.” Twilight ruffled her mane a little. “I just thi-”
“You send letters by incinerating them?”
Twilight and Spike turned to Livingstone, who was staring slack-jawed at Spike and blinking a lot.
“Celestia taught me,” said Spike. He puffed himself up just a little. “I’ve been Twilight’s number one assistant for years, and this was a way for the two of them to keep in contact easily.”
“But… but you incinerate them…” said Livingstone. She rubbed her head. “I know, magic, yes, but I saw it burn, not just disappear.”
“It’s a trans-spatial reconstitutional spell,” said Twilight, “and dragonfire’s actually uniquely suited for it. Normally, it’d require a lot of magic to break an object down to its constituent atoms for transportation, but dragonfire is so hot that-”
“Blah blah, something something magic something blah,” said Livingstone. “No offense, but that’s all I’m hearing. Earth pony.” She shrugged.
“Hem. Sorry.”
“You know, zebras don’t have any of this magic malarkey, no,” Livingstone muttered. “They can indirectly harness the most basic of magic, but-”
“Hang on,” said Spike. “I think…” He hit his chest with a fist and, with a gout of fire, coughed up a scroll into his outstretched hand, embossed with the royal seal.
“That was fast,” said Twilight. “And it all looks intact. Guess you were right, Spike.”
Livingstone made a sound like a laryngitic parasprite getting stepped on. “And you… you burp up the responses?” she said weakly.
“Yeah,” said Spike. “It’s not bad, ju-”
“You. Burp up. The responses.”
“…That’s what I s-”
“You burp up the responses?!” Livingstone half-screamed, waving her hooves around. She leaned in and stared at Spike’s chest. “What in the sweet mother-ducking hayseed is going on in there?!”
“It’s magic!” said Spike, his eyes wide as he backed away. “Biology’s got nothing to do with it!”
Livingstone blinked and sat back on her haunches, rubbing one leg against the other and her ears folded. “Hem. Right. Yes.”
“Anyway…” Spike gave Livingstone an odd look as he broke the seal. “Twilight,” he read, “I am glad to hear you have already found a route straight to the zebra leadership. Your mission will be much easier than I expected. Moreover, I have heard of Dr. Livingstone, a-”
Livingstone squealed a delighted squeal more commonly associated with teenage fillies and the current popstar targets of their affection. “Princess Celestia knows who I am?! Eeeeeeeee!” She started pronking around the campsite, still squealing. Twilight and Spike alternated between staring at her and staring at each other.
Livingstone suddenly froze mid-pronk and looked at Twilight and Spike. Her face was so red it was in danger of going out of the visible spectrum. “Sorry,” she said, so quietly it was almost inaudible, “but that’s very exciting, yes.”
Spike coughed and continued reading. “-I have heard of Dr. Livingstone, and am quite pleased to be alerted to her continued survival, as many have assumed her to be dead. I will pass on your message to Dewdrop; I am sure she will also be pleased to hear that her wife is doing fine. Sincerely, Princess Celestia.”
“And there you go,” said Twilight. “Your family knows what’s going on now.”
“That’s… Thank you,” said Livingstone. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes with a foreleg. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“It was nothing,” Twilight responded, waving a hoof. “Really, if I’d known you felt that way, I’d’ve done that earlier. Don’t worry about it.”
“But… but I ne-”
“You’re taking us to Kulikulu. If you really think you need to repay me, that’s payment enough.”
“Still, thank you.” After a pause, Livingstone glanced at Stormwalker and Cumulus, eating off to the side. “You two don’t talk much, do you?” she asked.
Stormwalker glowered at Livingstone over her food. “I’m paid to protect Princess Twilight, not talk.”
“Oh. So you’re that kind of bodyguard.” Livingstone turned to Twilight. “I am so sorry.”
Stormwalker glared and went back to eating.
“And your excuse?” Livingstone asked of Cumulus.
Cumulus didn’t bother looking up. “I don’t talk much.”
Livingstone waited a few more seconds for Cumulus to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “…And you are that kind of bodyguard.”
“Yes.”