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Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

Thirty-seven souls remained of the two hundred that had left the Riverlands. The bitter wind of the North nipped at their bare bodies as they climbed the steep rocks. Behind them lay a long road of bitter tears and hardship that had claimed so many, but the path ahead was a mystery still to the Shaman.

A number of their own tribe had come this way not so long ago; she saw their journey in her mind's eye. However, the weather had turned sour and then malevolent before they could meet the comfort of the distant mountain. Even that was no safe bet; the tribe that pursued them had made the Blood Mark upon the ground between their lands and it had only one meaning: death to them all, at all costs.

Eldest among them, she had been a rock for the wayward people, a promise of a better life and the surety of her visions. They trusted their lives to her in spite of all that had happened. Many days earlier, she had swallowed her pride and her honor; the lie of prophecy was a shameful price to pay to keep them going. Strange lights in the sky had confused her and frightened the tribe. The Shaman, however, with calm authority, assured them that the sky was not falling and no ancient evil had awakened. Yet to her eyes, it appeared as if it was. Great balls of fire descended in the distance, and they could hear the claps of odd thunder rolling over the hills.

Most of her tribe was Unmarked, meaning their scales were tan and brown with short stripes of black from their heads to their tails; their undersides consisting of softer scale and lighter tone. Like all other known tribes, only the males had shimmering patches of reds and blues on their necks and cheeks; the most prized had the brightest colors that almost glowed when the light hit them just right. Females of their kind, the Upright People, were larger and had more muscle to carry out the tasks of the tribe between the seasons of motherhood. They made war, hunted, and built the lodges, but the Hollow Reed Tribe was different in allowing their menfolk to hunt, fish, and scout.

Some of them, a modest few, had been Marked by the Goddess herself. Their scales danced with purple and splashes of red; the most holy few were deeply colored by Her hand, and the Shaman had been so blessed. Only the tip of her long tail and her limbs past the joints were mundane. When she was born, it was said that these were the places that the Goddess had held while she dipped the soul into the spring of all creation. Magical powers were attributed to the Marked Ones, but those tribes without such blessed souls in their ranks coveted such power.

When the Low People of the sea came, they saw how many of her tribe had been Marked, and envy ate their hearts. They seemed to love the chase and the hunt, but they had more than lust for blood and conquest. War came easy to them even at the best of times, but they were frenzied with greed and abandoned caution. When the Hollow Reed Tribe denied them, they descended upon the walls of the village with ravenous fury, and soon the only choice was to flee where the Low People could not go.

Looking back at the weary travelers coming into the valley, the Shaman sighed. Their scales, once gleaming, were now dulled by exhaustion and fear. A prayer escaped her lips, carried away by the wind as flakes of white fell from the fiery sky.

CHAPTER ONE

Venka clamored up the steep cliff with a thicket of throwing bolts nestled between her sharp teeth, the taste of the old reeds of home drenching her tongue. Game was up top; she could smell the tanchoka herd as she snorted in air during her arduous journey to the top. How she might kill and catch such nimble beasts had not crossed her mind often on the way up, but she considered it for a moment as she looked back over her shoulder. Far below her were the tops of the kokloa trees that had no business growing this far north, their spindly trunks ending in a round ball of leaves and branches as tall as her old lodge had been long.

Steeling herself, she focused back on the task at hand. A fall from even a third of that height would be fatal, and she carefully selected the final few spots to put her claws as she hauled herself over the ledge.

Spitting the bolts out, she rolled onto her back and breathed.

Brushing her loincloth off her striped thighs, she held her hands upright in front of her face and contrasted the charcoal patch that ran from her elbow to her fingers with the sandy underside and the cloudy expanse beyond. She had the faintest hints of purple along her long stripes, but the rest of her was built for hiding in the grasslands of home. Letting her arms fall, she stared straight up as she caught her wind.

Above her, the sky was marred with black bands through the normal clouds, and the air smelled of smoke. Not so long ago, it had been unbearable; even walking made her lightheaded. She had been glad that the boys of the tribe spent all those afternoons tanning meats and drying berries. They would have starved, all of them, instead of losing her cousin Nadla to sickness. Only thirty-one of her people remained besides herself, with an untold number hiding in the caves still a journey of the Dancer's Moon away. This time of year, it should have been eleven turns of the sky, but some nights it was hard to tell when the sun had finally set.

They had encountered other tribes on their journey, and many spoke of the sky fires and what they might mean. Some tribes had become mad with mind sickness and threatened them with violence if they neared, while others closed off all contact with the wandering group. Warnings had been passed along to stay far away from a few that had become so ill in the head that they tried to sacrifice their own daughters to appease the Goddess in their own perverse way. Only males were allowed to be sacrificed by many tribes, and only to the Dancer, but never in such a way as that. It was disgusting.

Belief that the sky was coming down upon them had made them so terrified that they raided other villages for girls to throw from the temple peak. Though she had no room to speak on matters of the Goddess or her Consorts, Venka believed it to be heretical and found the very subject to be offensive. A few of the Forgotten tribes behaved in such a way, but emulating them seemed like a poor way to court Her favor. They craved protection from the ancient evil that came from above, fearing the time of their return had finally come.

Aside from the strange flakes of white and the black rain that tasted of ash and blood, the odd happenings had not directly affected their day-to-day lives very much. Only the choking smoke had made it truly difficult, but that had mostly passed. Venka was not afraid of small annoyances or discomfort, she could endure both.

According to the Shaman, the glowing in the far distance was indeed a great wall of fire, probably the source of the smoke. What it had in relation to the fires in the sky, she did not know, but as she lay there, another ball streaked across her view. As it crossed the sky, smaller balls of flame erupted like sparks from a burning log. Pieces came off of them as well, leaving black streaks where they went. Eventually, it crossed so far that she had to sit up to watch, the white and brown feathers atop her head involuntarily raising as she peered at the curious sight—a wave of excitement rippling back down the feathery mane on her neck.

Suddenly, it ended in a bright flash, brighter still than even the sun, and she shut her emerald eyes as tightly as she could. When that wasn't enough, she turned her head and held a hand to shield one eye from the blinding light.

As it dimmed, she allowed herself to blink away the ghostly spot where it had burned into her vision. Venka peered at the spot where it had seemed to come down, her head cocking as she watched a faint circle expanding through the distant air. What manner of magic was that, she wondered. As she considered the possibilities, a deafening crack filled her ears as the wall of air slammed into her.

Peeling herself off the ground, Venka noted that her weapons had been blown over the dangerous edge, and she sighed a quiet prayer that she had not joined them. With nothing to hunt with, she considered climbing down again, but the huntress had another task that the Shaman had given her. As her mind caught up with her she began to wonder why, and then what, but no answer for either. Focus shifted from things that she could not understand or help and back to her duty. They were all expected to cross over the cliff, but she needed to find the spot closest to the pass through the rocks further above. 

Blood dripped from her snout; she wiped it with the back of her hand and proceeded along the ledge heading east, hoping that the path up would be easy.

Unfortunately, it was not. While she did locate a way through, it was littered with loose stones dangerous to climb. One callous move and the entire tribe could be buried under an avalanche of rocks, a fate that had claimed the Chieftess and her mates a few moons ago. Sighing, she turned around and walked back.

During that time, the sun had moved three claws. She held her arm outstretched and counted the passage of the distant glow in the haze again just to be sure. They couldn't afford to dawdle at the cliff for very long. The air was cold, and the Low People were sure to be taking refuge in the warmer valley. Unlike her own race, they were not able to make their own heat because they did not come from the Goddess and, instead, were hateful, wretched demons that had crawled up out of the deep depths of the ocean. All their warmth needed to come from something else; they took her kind as slaves to keep warm and for food.

Ahead, she saw a figure rounding the cliff.

"Venka!" called the other person. She knew that voice; it was Sahla, the other hunter that had been sent to scout. "Did you find a way up?"

"I did not," Venka muttered, approaching the other girl. "Did you?"

Sahla was taller and brawnier, her features decidedly much more feminine with her pronounced jaw and the sharp, aggressive lines of her smiling face. A patch of black ran between her eyes and down over her wide snout, fading into the mess of dark brown feathers tipped with streaks of black and speckled with white dots. Like Venka, her eyes were green, but they had streaks of yellow and red fanning out from the vertical slits of her pupils. All in all, she was quite attractive, and many of the boys tried to display for her favor even though they were too young.

Soon she would have her pick, and on the coming of age ceremony, she would put a ring on one of their tails. By the way that Sahla looked at Venka sometimes, she might have even considered her tail as worthy. Venka had no interest in girls like that; she wanted a boy of her own and regretted not being picked to select one at the last two ceremonies.

This year she would be ready. Even Sahla wouldn't get in her way.

"Nothing safe, sweet Venka," the larger hunter admitted. "You truly found no way up? What shall we tell the Shaman?"

"I found a way that would claim a few; it was a rockslide," Venka replied. "I won't tell the Shaman that. How far did you walk?"

"Far enough, six claws of dawn at a good pace to the west, and then I went north. I knew I would find you eventually, but I had hoped to bring good news with."

Venka sighed and sat down against the cool rock, Sahla joining her. They stared out at the carpet of trees that extended to the ridge peeking out from the distant haze, the sharp peaks having been so difficult to cross meant little as the Low People simply took the easy route and went around. She looked to her right and toward the twist in the valley in the west.

"Did you notice how the valley seems to climb?" Venka asked.

Sahla glanced that way. "Yes, I did. I even had to climb once, but nothing as high as this..."

"Pretend I did not meet you; do you know how far I would have walked?" she asked. Venka didn't wait for an answer and said, "I would walk into the distance there, to the source of the great thunder, had my throwing bolts not been knocked over the edge. Do you think the Low People would follow us up that?"

"I do," Sahla admitted. "Come, let us return and tell your plan—"

"No," Venka said, standing up. "Return to the village. I will walk there. Then, when I get there, I will turn around and walk down the valley, even if it takes me all night."

Sahla chuckled and said, "As you wish, sweet Venka, but know that if I find your throwing bolts they are mine to keep."

Exploring the cliff past the point where the other huntress walked proved to be a trickier affair than she had anticipated. Narrowing considerably, she had to edge along the path with her tail tucked and her back against the rock. Mist swirled around the valley below as she climbed the narrow ledge to an even higher spot. The wind started to whip the leather garments against her shapely backside and along her ribs where the tanned hide dangled from her breasts. With no fur or a nice, comfortable layer of blubber, she truly felt the cold, and only her firm determination carried her through the pain. Scales were a little more durable than flesh. She tried to keep her eyes protected and didn't breathe too deeply as she climbed.

Even so, her hypothesis had been proven mostly right. The valley did climb up, and the way through was visible in the distance. Unlike their usual approach, this was a natural path that climbed between two peaks. It would have been perfect for the whole tribe. Seeing it appear through the haze was incredible, almost breathtakingly so, as if the Goddess had parted the sky just for her eyes alone. Climbing such a narrow ledge was barely possible for her; she couldn't fault the brawnier Sahla for missing it. That didn't stop her from admiring the view, her tail flicking against the bitter wind as she surveyed the vast stretches of terrain they had traveled through or bypassed.

Cold, yes, but Venka could never deny that the Goddess had given the Upright People a wonderful garden. Even as it burned, there was fierce and raw beauty all around her that stole the air from her chest.

Only when it became too harsh to endure did she begin the climb back down. She ignored the ledge and chose a direct route to the bottom. Still watching, still aware, she kept glancing at the beautiful scene around her, stopping every so often to catch her breath and admire what was there to see. Even as a little girl, she hated being stuck inside the village. She loved to sprint through the tall grass of the uplands or swim in the swampy delta. Sometimes, she would visit the boys out on the fishing canoes and watch the older males bring in the nets they had carefully laid the day before. Always renowned for her athleticism, Venka had been expected to be a large female who would mate early, but the Goddess had other plans for her.

As she hauled herself from one rocky outcrop to the other, she paused and mapped the path to the next place she would rest. Looking over her shoulder, she almost didn't notice the rising column of black.

She looked again and stared at the spot. The haze had rolled in again and made it difficult to see much of anything. What she could notice was a strange shape she had never seen before. It resembled a rock in so many ways and yet it was not. Rocks were not that color gray, and they were not so flat and angular with so much order and purpose. They also did not have neat stripes of blue and white. Resting could wait; she resumed the climb down immediately.

Everything around the structure had been knocked backward with such force that entire trees had been pushed over, their twisting roots dangling helplessly in the air. No cover existed on the ground for many paces; she had not thought to start counting. The soil had been stripped of any grasses or small undergrowth as well. Some of it could be found draped on the trees and some boulders, but most of it had simply been blasted away as if by the strike of a hammer.

At the center stood an angular shape, appearing out of the haze first in parts and then suddenly as a sharp monolith that startled her when her mind understood its true size. From one end to the other, it resembled the odd salt licks sometimes found in caves that had edges sharp enough to cut scale if one was not careful. Shamans used them for magic, and she had come to associate any geometric pattern like that as alchemical in purpose. So, the thought crossed her mind that, perhaps, a great sorceress called this her lair. Intruding on a user of such magic would have been a very bad thing to do, but the state of the structure and the rising column of dangerously black smoke made her reconsider turning around.

Deep in her gut, she knew that something was wrong with this grand building; it was not in the shape or form that it should have been.

Something terrible had happened here.

Approaching the strange ruin, Venka noticed a straight pole of some unknown material that she had never seen before on the ground. When she picked it up, it seemed warm. It smelled like blood, yet she found none on it. When she turned it in her hand, she noted that it was hollow straight through. Impossibly straight, save for a ragged end that was sharp to the touch, it was also strong and had some weight to it when she maneuvered it through the air. As good a weapon as any, she gazed into the open structure and slowly stepped forward.

Much of it was built in straight lines of the same strange material as her new staff, and the door was painted with strange markings that had been done with such a steady hand that she could not see any brush or claw stroke at all. Whoever, or whatever, made this was a very powerful people, and their artisans were unmatched. They also had strong magic; the inside had squares and rectangles that cast an eerie light upon everything, orange as the setting sun. Beneath her feet, she felt no dirt, nor board, nor rug... With a tap of her large claws, she was unable to pierce the structure's floor. Smoke poured out from a square hole in the ceiling, carried away by a current of air coming from deeper within.

Steeling her nerves, she followed it.

Down a long hallway, she found another door, but this one was shut to her and she could not find any handle. A strange barrier, clear as fresh water, separated her from the room inside. She believed she could see something that looked like a body, but it had no tail and it was far too small. Suddenly, she became quite aware of the fire within the structure as she watched it burn. That could be me, she thought. Deciding to move on, she wandered through the adjacent corridor toward her right and noted more of the closed doors.

Whatever race of people built this structure had not anticipated the calamity that had befallen it. A raging inferno behind another door burned so furiously that the door was glowing a deep red. When she neared, she smelled the heat and acrid stench of the material as it groaned. Another oddity was the strange patterns in the walls, like ripples of fabric, almost as if the structure had been crushed by some great force and still resisted it. Many of the straight lines and rounded edges had been twisted to reveal vines behind the square panels of the walls. They were marked with strange runes, but one had colors that immediately reminded her of a venomous creature. Something about the runes on that one was concerning; she noticed a symbol of two points angled parallel, joined at their ends to form a continuous and sharp glyph—it looked evil.

A stream of water flowed from a hole in the ceiling and pooled on the floor, but as she approached, the stench of the liquid made her head jerk back on its own. This was a scent she had never encountered before. It was obviously water of some kind, but within it was something that made it too blue and clear to be safe to drink. Certain animals had an odor in their urine when they marked their territory, a sharp stab to the back of the nostrils, and her mind went back to that scent as she avoided stepping in the puddle. Certain rocks also gave off similar hints of that strange, unfathomable odor that made her want to get away from it immediately. It was not natural.

Something on the floor caught her eye, and she knelt down to pick it up. Some kind of pendant, the string was a series of little beads with a white mirror shine, and the talisman was a pair of flat pieces of identical size and shape with runes pushed into them. Risking a curse, she tried to bend one and found it to be very sturdy, concluding that the runes had been hammered in with great force and a high degree of skill. Still, she didn't want to keep such a thing and set it down on the floor as gently and respectfully as she could.

Carefully stepping through the corridor, she came across a sight that chilled her to the bone.

There, in the center of the hallway, a shaft like the one she had in her hand speared through the wall and into the corpse of a creature she had never seen before. With two arms and two legs, but no tail, it looked like a person and had eyes looking forward into forever as the little hands still clutched the pole that had been driven into its chest. Instead of feathers, it had long fur tied back into a rope-like pattern. Venka was perplexed. She sniffed the body and recoiled.

It was fresh.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she reached out to touch the strange creature. Her claws poked at its clothing, covering it from shoulder down to the arms, with another garment that concealed the legs all the way to sandals that encapsulated the entire feet. As she felt the body, noting that it was slightly warmer than the surrounding air, she observed that the creature had breasts like her own. This being was female. Venka felt a wave of sorrow for this strange being, knowing that they shared something in common. So, with great care, she used the back of her claws to close the creature's eyes.

"Goddess, take her into your embrace," Venka whispered. "Please carry her soul to the fields of green and the waters from which we all came."

Around her, the structure groaned, as if in pain, and Venka traced the line of the shaft up into the ceiling. Had the structure failed here? Were there more of her people trapped? She understood then that the body from before had been a person and that at least two had been killed in these great halls.

Narrowing her eyes, the huntress felt a surge of determination to find survivors in this strange place.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWO

After many moments of wandering, she had found two more bodies, but they had been mangled so horrifically that she dared not guess what they were. Parts of a third were found that had been thrown with such force down the hallway that they resembled nothing except pulverized meat with flakes of bone and gristle through the smooth hide. Venka's feathers were fully erect as she struggled to keep her wits about her, hoping that the involuntary display did not seem too aggressive to any survivor. She truly wished to help.

Inside the next room, she found a collection of strange cubes that had been stacked on shelves from the floor to the very tall ceiling, but their purpose eluded her until she advanced deeper into the open chamber. A shelf had failed, and the cubes were scattered across the floor, some split open to reveal colorful objects marked with more of the carefully-painted runes. One of the objects had been split open itself, the contents scattered across the floor. She lifted one of the red flakes up to her eye and examined it, but it was her nose that told her the true purpose.

Carefully, she darted her tongue out to sample the air, the light blue appendage waggling for a moment before returning. Being so much more sensitive than her nostrils, her tongue watered as she examined the strange flake before taking a small bite.

"Meat!" she whispered. This was dried meat, spiced with some exotic flavor that bit her tongue and made her want more of the stuff. Venka opened her bag and stuffed in some of the objects that matched the size and color of the one containing the meat before grabbing that one as well. At the very least, she would come out of these ruins with better supplies, and perhaps the tribe could scavenge for more if it survived long enough. Everyone had always said that she was a happy person, able to see the good in any situation. Some called her foolish for this, but the loudest of those voices had perished along the way.

Venka chose to believe that she would find someone and pressed onward, and she chose to believe that when she brought survivors back to the tribe, there would be something left when they returned. At the far wall, she found another door, but it was closed and the other side had none of the magic in the walls to light the way. Instead, she found an open hole. A pole mightier than any she had seen so far had torn through the wall and was the cause of the broken shelf. Along its length, she could see light reflecting and chose to climb toward it.

Emerging into a new kind of room, Venka found herself surrounded by tiles on the walls and ceiling that were impossibly white, while the floor was gray with a hint of blue polished to a remarkable shine. A few plants were scattered about, their soil thrown everywhere. She approached a strange table that was quite narrow and circled around a central structure lined with strange squares that seemed to glow as she approached. When she pressed her hand to the surface, she discovered that it was transparent and the runes were found just below and out of reach. Some of them looked more menacing than others, and the geometric shapes on some of the squares were probably quite important to these people.

As she walked through the room, the magic in the ceiling failed, plunging the space into total darkness except for the glow from the squares. Ahead, she could see light, and Venka stuffed herself through the partially opened door, discovering that the doors slid into the walls when enough force was applied.

Again, the magic in the walls failed, but the room was bathed in the orange glow she had seen before. This time, there was no way forward.

Before she could leave, she noticed that the room contained pipes of clear material. Within them were shapes, only dark outlines to her, but soon her eyes adjusted, and she saw the outline of the flat face of one of the creatures. When she tried to pry the tube open, it did not budge. Hitting it did nothing either besides bend her staff, so she discarded it. Venka pawed at the strange structure, searching for some kind of way to pry the one piece from the rest that looked to be fixed to the wall.

A sudden roar from the building shot fear up her spine, and she felt the entire structure move. She gripped the only thing available to keep from being pulled over. When the movement stopped, the structure had shifted so much that the floor was at an angle, and the way she had come looked blocked. That would be a problem she would solve in due time, but when she turned to resume her rescue effort, she noticed a part of the tube had lifted under her grip. An experimental tug clattered the entire assembly. Suddenly, it became clear to her, and she heaved the lid of the structure up to reveal the body inside.

Like the others, it was shaped like a person, but without a tail and with no scales. The face was very flat, with a small jaw and a prominent brow tipped with short fur. This one had red fur, and when she felt the body, she was sure that it was another female. For some reason, it had perished. A cautionary sniff did not reveal if the body was fresh or not; it just smelled like the strange fluid that had leaked from the ceiling. Above the structure was a red light that turned off and on like a twinkling star, but she was sure it had been red earlier. Venka looked at the other tubes and noted that they had dots of red above them as well...

Except for one.

At the far end of the chamber, only ten paces away, she stood in front of the tube and peered inside. A shape was there, just like the others, and she took hold of the recessed lever and tugged against it. With a clatter, it gave way to her strength, and she lifted the entire thing up and out of the way, revealing the creature below.

Before she could examine it, the structure began to shift again. Venka didn't have time to waste. She reached in, took the creature into her arms, and departed the only way available to her.

Wandering in the orange glow was difficult as the structure twisted around her, the task made more arduous by carrying an unconscious body. She had passed through two more chambers of tubes and saw no green lights, only red ones, with a few that turned on and off. She understood this to mean they had been opened. When she approached one, it had been smashed violently by debris from the ceiling, the magic in the wall aware that the occupant had been murdered. Their purpose remained unclear to her, but the clever huntress suspected these might be some form of bed.

Or they had been, at least, she thought to herself. Now they were tombs.

Traveling through the dark passageways, she began to notice a pattern in the construction of the structure. Areas with white walls had doors that opened on their own or were easy to push out of the way, while the other sections with the rods and tubes and eerie lighting had doors that required thought and effort. Sometimes, when she arrived at a door in the white area, it did not open, but simply tearing the wall apart revealed a way into the darker passages. By following the glow of the magic, she could determine which passages would respond to her presence.

More bodies were scattered around, but like the other mangled remains, these were in chunks and pieces. Some of them had been mauled so severely that she did not recognize them as people at first; her foot discovered one with a wet crunch to the ribcage.

She also noticed a difference in the clothing. Some of the creatures had thin clothes like the one she cradled to her chest, an almost ethereal cloth draped over the body on top and some kind of strange loincloth of the same material sewn to fit the body to preserve modesty. Others had more stout clothing that covered them from neck to their ankles, and some still wore what appeared to be armor made from the shell of an unknown creature.

As she ventured deeper into the wreckage, the structure around her continued to shift and groan, each movement causing her heart to race with fear. The air grew warmer, thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burning materials. Venka knew she needed to find a way out soon, or she and the creature she carried would be trapped forever in this dying place. Along with her. She put the fear of that aside; her resolve to continue and to rescue the unconscious person easily dwarfed the primitive terror that barked up her chest.

Her path led her through a corridor where the walls had collapsed, the twisted remains of the ruins crushed inward so severely that they left only a narrow passageway barely wide enough for her to squeeze through. She glanced down at the creature in her arms, the small form looking so vulnerable, but perhaps she could use that to her advantage. She laid on her back and gingerly placed the body on her waiting tail, head against the flap of her loincloth, snaking it firmly around the creature's midsection and down one of the thighs before crawling with her shoulders into the dark hole.

What a strange time it would be to wake up, she thought.

As she crawled, she realized that she could feel the beating of a little heart and smiled. For the first time in the entire ordeal, a weight of tension had been released from her; she was really able to do a little good to help such a tragic situation. With this one life, all her efforts, the wasted time, it would all be worth it. Venka believed that they would get through; that sureness had never been wrong.

The corridor opened into a larger room, one that had partially caved in from above, and an awful liquid drained from above that filled the space with wretched fumes. Something told her to stay far, far away from that substance, and she gathered up her charge and searched for a way out. Venka's keen eyes spotted a faint light filtering in from a gap in the rubble. Hope made her heart dance; it could have been a way outside. She navigated through the debris toward it, her muscles strained by the crawl, and she felt the familiar burn of exhaustion. Her feathers, once a vibrant display of her alertness, now drooped with the weight of soot and grime. She approached the source of the light and found that it did lead outside, but the way through looked sharp.

Gently, she set the body down and climbed into the space to explore, but before she could go too deep, her hand met the jagged edge of the structure. To her, it felt like flint that had been flaked all wrong, but still dangerous if not treated with care. Taking the creature with her would be a gamble. As she climbed out, the entire structure shifted.

Her eyes widened as the gap slammed shut like a hungry maw. She ducked back out of the way and shielded the unconscious figure with her own body as parts of the ruin came clattering down.

When the rain of sharp edges stopped, she opened her eyes.

Most of the room looked the same as it did before, but the angle had changed. They were on a steeper incline than before, and she had slid an arm's length from where she started. The liquid pouring from above had become a feeble trickle into a triangular pool at the furthest corner of the large room. A happy side effect of the new situation was the rush of cool air through the widened gap above, but she resisted its seductive allure all the same. A mental image of her crawling up and being cut to pieces, along with the innocent person she was trying to save, made her seek out a new way.

Another crack in the structure was visible through a doorway, and she tried to force her way through, but the door simply did not budge. Peeking through the transparent material, she saw that the crack extended upward and she stepped back to stare at the strange rectangular net above her. Flicking her tongue out in annoyance, she caught a scent of smoke and blood pouring from the opening, and she guessed that it led somewhere. Jumping in place, she caught the net with her claws and yanked it off the ceiling, and another gave her enough room to hook her fingers over the ledge.

Peering into the square tunnel, Venka noted that it did indeed go to the crack. She inhaled and exhaled deeply a number of times until she became dizzy, and then she let the air slip from her lungs with a final leap up into the space.

She kicked her legs and her tail whipped against the ceiling as she tried to pull her shoulders deeper, but the huntress was simply too muscular. A male of her species could do it, barely, and the creature could surely fit, but she would not be able to come with the being she was trying to save. Even so, she stopped to think of a way to perhaps widen the passage...

Before she could finish that idea, a low moan echoed through the ruins, and then a shower of sparks blasted from the ceiling and walls. For a moment, she was plunged into darkness, but a wall of flame erupted behind her. She dove to protect the unconscious body.

As she threw herself across the room, Venka felt a searing heat on her back. She cowered over her charge, ignoring the sharp sting of the burn as the cloud of flames evaporated into a choking black cloud. The fire spread rapidly, consuming the room in a blaze of light and smoke. She coughed, her eyes stinging, but she held tightly onto the creature. There was no time to think, only to act.

With the structure collapsing around her and the fire threatening to engulf them both, Venka made a desperate decision. She climbed to her feet, holding the body to her chest with one arm as she twisted herself into the waiting jaws of the great ruin. Her powerful legs propelled her forward and upward, her tail the only thing keeping her balanced as her free hand grasped at anything that would hold her. The fire roared behind her, spilling into the open space as it rushed toward a source of fresh air. The jagged canyon was narrow and twisted, but she could see the sky as the broiling flames licked at her feet and tail. Venka growled through her clenched teeth as the flames chased them, but she did not falter. Her instincts drove her forward, every muscle in her body focused on survival.

The corridor opened wider.

Venka leapt into the only open space available as the gap shut and twisted. Debris kicked free from the motion flew past her and into the adjacent space with enough force to bounce back. Sprinting through, she narrowly avoided being speared through her gut as a rod sailed past her and clattered along in the darkness. Behind her, the flames burst through the gap again and spilled into the new space as the entire structure seemed to rock from side to side. During her rout deeper into the structure, she saw a ladder, and she scrambled up into the next level, which already had flames present. They were headed one way, though, and that was out.

At a full sprint, she held the being in her arms and threw herself sideways through an open door. Venka narrowly squeezed through the gap, her feathers brushing against the frame before landing clumsily on the other side. Momentum carried her forward, and she hopped on her toes to stop while finding herself on a ragged ledge overlooking a steep drop. Below her, the inferno was busy destroying the structure, the heat rising was unbearable, and yet she had to if she wanted to survive. Resisting the urge to inhale, she gritted her sharp teeth and pulled herself forward.

Each step was a struggle, but the thought of reaching the surface kept her going. The light grew brighter, and the air cooler as she climbed higher. At last, she pulled herself and the creature over the edge and gasped in the cool, fresh air.

Movement in the structure made her scramble, but she lost her footing on the exterior and began to slide.

At first, it wasn't concerning. Her feet slid over the thick tiles easily, but then she began to gain speed.

A lot of speed.

Venka's eyes widened as the structure heaved again and the angle changed as it rocked back down from another collapse. Still holding the rescued creature with one arm, she reached back and tried to slow herself only to find that her claws did not bite into the material. It was as hard as rock, glossy like obsidian, and the rubbing of it against her footpads became unbearable. Desperate, she shifted to her knees, but the pain was horrific and she lurched away.

They began to tumble down the side.

Protecting the little creature was her only priority, but their legs tangled with her own, and the pair began their undignified roll that only became more violent when she tried to stop it. Seeing the edge coming, she flattened herself out and tried to get as much scale and claw contact as possible, but the tactic only served to steady her body at first, and only too late did she feel them truly slowing.

With her final burst of energy, she kicked free and held the little body tight as the ground rushed up to greet her.

Venka sat still and watched over the top of her knees as the creature stirred to life. Behind her, the structure burned vigorously. Smoke billowed from the openings, and she could hear the crackling of the fire within between the horrible groans and sighs of the ruined building, like a dying beast giving up its last.

The creature was small compared to what she was used to, a little bigger than the average boy and just slightly shorter. As far as she could tell, it had no claws or talons with which to fight, nor did it have a tail. This one had a hide clean of scars or blemishes on its creamy skin. The fur on its head was light brown like the heru root, and its figure was not like the others she had seen. This one did not have breasts, only a chest of light muscle, and she guessed that it might be male.

A sly smirk crept across her lips. She had raided another tribe and captured one of their menfolk. Only by technicality, of course.

Even so, she wondered where he had come from. These creatures were unlike anything else in the area, and the only things that seemed to have smooth hides were little pests that darted around the underbrush or lived in swamps. He did not seem aquatic; his five toes were short and not webbed, and it looked as if he walked on his whole foot instead of perching on toes and claws as she did. They had a similar number of joints, but then again, the Low People did as well. Both of his hands were immaculate. She glanced down at her three fingers and noted a collection of scars acquired over her nineteen years of life. She knew that she easily outmatched him in strength.

Of course, there was nothing odd about that. Females were larger, stronger, and faster. Even so, this strange little male didn't seem as tough or strong as her own people's menfolk, and she doubted he would win any fights. Unless he had been claimed, the male would be on his own in any dominance bouts, but perhaps her assessment was incorrect. He seemed to be slightly larger than the two intact females she had found.

He groaned. She noted his voice was deep, throaty, but not raspy like a proper male. It was almost musical in its smoothness.

After a few more moments, his eyes fluttered open, but his body convulsed and he doubled over in a way that looked very painful. Venka crawled to him and sat by his side while he fruitlessly retched. Gently, she set her claws on his shoulder, easing the waterskin to his lips.

Surprise painted his face as he looked up at her, his eyes a shade of gray and blue with little lines of green that she had never seen before, but he was too weak to flee. She guided him to drink, cradling the little man's head and stroking her thumb against his scalp.

"I think you went to bed ill," she observed.

He said something and relaxed.

Whatever the reason for the tubes, she knew then that he was too weak to walk and that she would have to carry him home. Venka didn't hide her growing smirk.

Watching him breathe, she asked, "What shall I call you, little one?"

He didn't open his eyes, but he did respond. Venka thought about asking something else, but she realized he had passed out again. Sympathy tugged at her, and she did not bother him further. She felt an immediate urge to keep him close and protect him. The instinctual drive reinforced her conscious decision to preserve his life as she gently stroked his soft fur. Frail or not, he was ill and would not last the night if predators caught his scent.

Venka gathered her things and then pulled him into her arms before setting off southeast, the sun low in the sky behind her.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THREE

In her arms, he stirred awake twice, mumbling incoherently before drifting back into unconsciousness. His body felt much colder than when they started, and just as the first signs of the moons peeked over the horizon, he started to shiver. For her people, shivering was a sign of a very dangerous condition, and she did not waste any time building a small fire. They had been avoiding using fires as much as possible, but she was so far into the valley that it didn't matter.

Placing his body between herself and the fire, she tried to keep as much of herself draped over him as possible; enveloping him with her own warmth. Eventually, after some time, his shivers were reduced to sporadic jolts over time. Only when she was satisfied that he would be warm did she allow herself a brief excursion into the woods to relieve herself. On the way back, she collected some branches that seemed stout enough and sat down next to him.

As he slept, she glanced at him every so often while she whittled the branches down to sharpened sticks, inspecting their straightness and other imperfections. Bends were easy to correct; she simply held the sticks over the fire and applied pressure while they cooled until the wood had adopted the new shape.

Pleased with her work, she sighed and reached behind her head to pluck out a few feathers. Ignoring the pain as she plucked, Venka selected some feathers from both sides and began the annoying process of splitting them with a claw. Once she had two piles, she stripped them down and used a bit of spare thread to fletch the throwing bolts. A handful of points were pulled from a small sack dangling from her bag, which she forced into the wood and tied firmly with more cordage.

Glue would've helped, but she had always made the best bolts, and these did not need any adhesion to make the fletching stick or the heads stay in. Armed and content, Venka allowed herself to sleep with her back against the creature.

They stayed like that until he woke again, mumbling about something as he struggled to stand. Thankfully, he had been quiet up until just before dawn, and she stretched with a great, toothy yawn.

"Are you hungry, little one?" she asked. "Thirsty?"

He looked inebriated, ill, and his speech was slurred. He had not fully recovered, but he was more active, and that was a good sign. Pleased with this progress, she gave him more water and some of the dried meat she had acquired.

For the first time, he smiled at her. Cradling his head, she smiled back and held him while he ate. When he offered her the rest of his portion, she shook her head and pushed it back toward him.

"I have more," she explained, producing more of the food from the bag. He got two pieces, she allowed herself one. "Your strength must come back soon, or else we may be forced to leave you behind."

He babbled a response.

Sighing, she shook her head and looked around. A drop was ahead, and she would be forced to make a decision about his fate. Either she could leave him alone in the forest or risk taking him back to the tribe. Falling with him would've been a danger, but she did not doubt that it would kill the male outright, even if she didn't land on top of him. By her estimation, he weighed just under half of what she did, and his height came only to the hem of her breastcloth. But she knew the limits of her own body and was aware that he would become quite heavy over the course of the day. While he ate, she lifted him again and continued the journey back to camp.

Several times he had passed out and awoken, sometimes with a horrible fright, and she almost dropped him as he fought the air and her strong embrace. Surprisingly strong, the creature was proving to be too difficult a prize to carry down a small cliff, and she chose to leave him behind. Venka made a conscious effort to remind herself that this was not abandonment; she would come back for him.

Keeping him safe in her absence would not be easy, but every girl of her people knew how to hide their newborns or late hatches from thieves or predators. It was a lesson mothers passed to their daughters, and though Venka had no siblings, she had been instructed to build a shelter for her cousins. The memory flooded back as she gathered supplies. She noted he had stirred from the spot and sighed, realizing that he was not fully aware of the situation yet. But she had a solution. With her bare claws, she dug a deep trench and lined it with nest materials, stirring the grasses to provide structure before she laid his body inside. Then she stacked sticks on top, followed by flat stones, and piled debris from the forest floor on top.

From a distance, it looked like nothing, but she committed it to memory. In a way, he was not unlike a child, too frail in his ill state to do much of anything and too delirious to be trusted. This shelter would protect him like the one her mother had made to protect her during hunts, only retrieving the little adolescent when the day was through.

Venka set off toward the tribal camp, her eyes on the shelter one last time before climbing down.

Thinking of his place among them, she struggled to imagine where he might fit in. When she had him close during the night, she had an understanding of his height and general build compared to her own. Most jobs that would have been expected of him in many other tribes were simple menfolk duties like cleaning and decorating the home, cooking, gathering, and perhaps some basic crafts like weaving or thatching. Some tribes trapped game, and this was a fine job for a male, but he seemed even too weak for that back-breaking duty. Among her tribe, it was expected that he hunt for smaller game, fish, and attend to building tasks.

Even these seemed beyond him; at best, he would be an entirely domestic creature. Venka had serious doubts if a creature as frail and soft as him, as delicious as he might be, would even survive his first mating. She remembered seeing the faded scars her father had from the night her mother took him, and the violent unions of the ceremonies where she had been stuck watching the lucky few females enjoying their picks of fresh males. Comparing him to his own females, he seemed to be larger and sturdier, so perhaps they were simply as incompatible as a creature that flew in the sky and those that swam in the sea.

Whatever happened, she had made up her mind to look after him, even if such a task was beneath her. Seeing the total destruction of his home brought back the pain she felt in her heart over losing the beautiful village and only home she had ever known. Her lip curled to reveal a row of teeth while the memory played out in the eye of her mind, and she silently vowed that this orphan male would not feel as alone as she did.

She spotted a wild animal as she walked, and her entire body froze before crouching in the grass.

Every thought she had vanished as her mind locked on the hunt. Instinct took over as she advanced, her breaths coming in slow and steady as her claws dug into the soft detritus on the forest floor. Venka's eyes focused on it as it fully came into view.

They had no name that she knew, but she had hunted these beasts before. This one was male, standing tall on its two hind legs while it stretched to bite the lower limbs of the foreign tree. From head to toe, it had rough, jagged scales that were difficult to pierce, colored a mixture of brown and green in a mottled pattern. On its back, it had a shaggy mane of coarse, black hair that shimmered in the light when it moved. From experience, she knew that it sprouted from little clusters between the rows of scales and came out easily when disturbed, coated in some kind of foul-smelling substance that burned and blistered any soft flesh. Goddess help you if it got between the scales. These were not carnivorous, but from its head sprouted two short, dagger-like horns sharp enough to gore, and it fought by jumping forwards with its head low. Two black eyes sat toward the top of its head, giving it exceptional visibility even during a fight.

Females were similar, having less vicious horns and were a little larger than the male trying to feast on the wood above. They enjoyed small saplings and the lower branches of grown trees, their jaws capable of easily snapping bone if they got an opportunity to bite.

She weighed her choices, finally thinking with her conscious mind and not simply reacting.

Venka decided to risk it, knowing that if her first strike failed, it would be satisfied with driving her up a tree. They fought easily, instantly even, but their speed allowed the cowards to run as soon as they made their initial attack.

Stepping closer, she readied the first of her throwing bolts and tensed as she snaked her long, sinuous figure through the grass. Beneath the canopy of the forest, the stripes on her tail, back, and thighs helped break up her outline in the shadows as she approached him. He did not react, his long tongue waggling out to try and catch a branch as he danced on his hind toes.

With a flash of her eyes, she saw the target. No hesitation stilled her hand as she wound back and threw the bolt with enough force to make his body shudder and lose balance.

Bleating a challenge, the creature bounded with one majestic leap toward a shadow. Venka remained dead still, her eyes watching her prey stumble. When he leaned forward, exhaustion rapidly setting in, a fountain of crimson erupted from his throat. A final, gargling bleat was offered to the forest before he wavered, then fell, his form still in the ray of light cast down through the leaves.

Venka's eyes scanned the darkness. No others, she thought, good.

She stood up and cautiously approached the kill.

Hauling the dressed carcass back to her tribe's camp, Venka wondered how best to broach the subject of the lost male she had rescued.

A smirk played across her lips as she thought again about the fine details; she huffed with amusement at the thought. Raiding another tribe for menfolk had not been done in a long time, only the playful festival wars had such a thing these days. There wouldn't be another for many moons still, but she recalled almost catching a boy from the Wind Song tribe. Every young male attending chose to "remain" as boys, some waiting years for a gathering of the clans if they did not like any of the young females of their village. She wondered what would happen to the Hollow Reed tribe, so far away from clan kin, and she was determined to ask the Shaman.

With welling apprehension, she glanced toward the southern direction. The distant hills they crossed loomed in the distance through the smoky haze. They had lost so many people, it hurt to even think of their trail north, but the Low People would struggle with the mountains.

Strangely, she had not encountered the hunting blind yet.

Venka bounced the skinned and headless carcass on her shoulder for better purchase as she continued. A ripple of apprehension rolled from the base of her neck to the rising feathers above her head. Something is definitely wrong, she thought. With a curious flick of her tongue, she crept through the forest, her wandering chancing upon a path. She had not been quiet, deliberately so; the huntress here would have found her to inquire about her scouting. Venka followed the blind's path toward it.

Alarm jolted through her nerves as her blue tongue flicked out, tasting Upright blood in the air, her feathers springing up in response.

Dropping the carcass, she went low, steadying herself with deep breaths as she approached the wicker door.

Craning her head, she peeked inside, quickly sniffing the air, her mind sifting through the library of scents. Nanashe. A new huntress, but wily and nimble; her blood was here.

Fresh.

Venka huffed and readied a throwing dart, her nostrils flaring as she tasted and sniffed the unseen trail. Her eyes traced subtle breaks and marks—the woods molested by the chase of four bodies after another. She caught the sight of drag marks and squatted low, licking at the fumes of the red stain.

Low People.

A decision had to be made: she glanced at the drag marks leading to her original destination, then at the snapped twigs and parted grass, where the specter of her tribe-sister's fear lingered in the haze. She reasoned that if they had caught her, they would have killed her, but one huntress against the fate of her tribe was an easy equation to solve. Venka followed the drag marks, her eyes up as she bent low with her knees past her shoulders; she tucked a corner of her loincloth up to keep it from dragging. Willing her feathers to stillness, she tilted her head back to make herself as low as possible as she snaked through the grass.

A figure crossed her gaze off in the acrid haze. All of the fires of the camp had been smothered with janta fronds from her homeland, filling the area in a wretched cloud that stung the eyes.

Venka breathed hard as she realized they had abandoned camp, but in a hurry. Some tents remained.

Again the figure crossed, her eyes played across it as it carried a basket. Recognition flickered in her mind as she watched them. They were a twisted mockery of the Upright People, their unfathomable eyes black beads at the sides of their broad, flat heads; as if someone had taken one of her kin and pinched the snout and skull. They were short, their tallest coming up no higher than the bottom of her ribs if they stood side by side, but what they lacked in physical prowess they made up for in feral tenacity. Low People were a scourge that loved to fight and kill and take—their avarice and malevolence had no equal.

This one was smaller still, a male, his green scales glistening with moisture as he toiled to steal all their things. Venka wanted him.

Unaware of the lethal hunter stalking him, he ambled past once more. His tiny feet scuffed the earth, kicking up small puffs of dust as he wheezed from exertion.

Suddenly, in a flash, he felt claws on his neck, his body going limp by instinct, but she was not taking him for a mate. Her grip tightened, silencing his cry as her fingers crunched his throat, making him shudder and thrash in a pool of blood. Venka ignored his death, her eyes scanning for more threats as she slaughtered the hapless beast—he would sire no more demons.

Carefully, she dragged him backward into the shelter of the weeds. Leaving him there, she vanished like a wraith, her ghostly figure weaving through the smoke and into an open tent.

She licked the air, tasting the children's worry and fear. Orphan girls and three boys, but Rahu was with them. He was a good caretaker, guile matching that of her own father, and no harm would come to them while he still breathed.

Someone stepped inside.

Time seemed to freeze as she stared at the male, his beady eyes wide and jaw slack, but their moment shattered when he inhaled.

Venka was on him instantly, her claws clamping his jaw shut with her opposite hand against the back of his neck. He screamed out his nostrils as she forced him down, his head bending back as he struggled in vain, his tail waggling furiously. The bones under her fist clicked as she watched the blood sputter from between her claws.

A crunch ended the wail. His head bent back, staring up at her in his final moment, his body shivering with automatic, futile effort. Venka dragged him in.

Through the open flap, she could see movement, another approached.

Their eyes locked. This one was female—a calculating killer—she screeched a guttural alarm as Venka stepped out and wound back with the bolt in her hand. When it sailed free, it crossed the distance in an instant, the thudding impact against her skull twisted the Low Person back as her corpse lurched and kicked. Venka growled and sprinted into the smoke, up and over a bench near the central fire, and she gazed at the spot where the Shaman's tent once stood.

Figures scrambled about, their bodies darting out of sight in the rolling smoke, circling to find the intruder. Panic leapt up the hunter's back, knowing they stalked her now.

Venka snarled and ran, unable to fight them all.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOUR

With a swipe of her claws, Venka revealed the creature's hidden nest. Fear filled his eyes as he looked up at her.

"We have to go!" she snarled. "Now!"

He struggled, but her strength was overwhelming. She hoisted him over her shoulder like a hock of meat.

A spear flew past, embedding itself in a tree behind them.

Venka didn't look back. She simply ran, instincts taking over. She leaped over shrubs at the woodline and bounded through the tall, sharp grass—like the very animals she had hunted. Over her shoulder he wailed something, slapping her back as another spear came dangerously close to them before splashing in the mud ahead of her. Panic raced through her like a dammed river finally being released, splashing and consuming thought and reason. Her legs sank into the mud, and she wailed as water splashed her thighs, her toes barely finding purchase to carry them through.

Another spear came in, then another, her mind flashing to those butchered and skinned bodies of her tribe-sisters. She didn't want to die here.

Still holding him, she bent forward to crawl, clawing through the mud like a beast. Toward the other side of the wallow, the ground beneath became firmer; rising up as she fought through to solid ground.

He screamed something at her and she changed directions automatically out of fright. Another spear whistled in, but found no flesh to pierce.

What had started as a deliberate escape devolved into a mindless rout. She ran wherever her legs took her, weaving through the forest, over fallen logs, down a hill, and then clawing her way one-handed up a rocky face. They followed, but their short legs could only carry them so far, so fast. She started to calm as the distance between them grew. Venka had to think of something to lose them, and fast, because her strength was beginning to wane.

Ahead the ground disappeared. She threw herself backward and grimaced as they skidded toward the ledge.

The creature peeked over her. He mumbled something, softly at first, his voice disbelieving.

Venka could not speak his flowery, babbling tongue, but their shared look spoke volumes. The word he said next was negative. He did not want to do this, refused, in fact. He repeated himself as she stood up, much louder, his body tensing in her tightened grip.

Looping back a few paces and with a deep inhale, she sprinted with all her might toward the rocky ledge. He shouted as her feet pounded the ground, her heart thundered in her chest, and the wind whipped through her feathers as her feet found empty air.

She took a few sharp breaths, then a deep one.

The water below looked cold.

Two claws of sun had passed before the terror in her neck began to wane. Her chest heaved, lungs desperate for more air, but she did not stop. The Low People could only be evaded by distance and obstacles, and she wanted both. They would struggle to track her through the underground stream, at least until they found the first crevice leading up to the surface. She guessed that the little stream was partially the source of the creek her people once used at their former camp.

Somehow her path took her back to the place where the trees had been flattened back, the dirt dug up and thrown, and the very ground itself had been scorched to a fine powder.

When she did sit down, it was at the edge of the ruins from before. A pillar of black smoke climbed high into the air, merging with a haze of yellow and brown far above. The entire area reeked of acrid remains that still smoldered. Venka released the male and watched him as he looked upon the structure, her own exhaustion melting before the curiosity she felt toward him. Unsurprisingly, he began to cry. Quiet tears rolled down his dirty cheeks as he looked at the ruin and then to the sky. Anger contorted his little face as he glared at another finger of flame crossing through the clouds.

They remained like that for a short while. He eventually settled down against some debris and said something. At first, it might have seemed like a prayer, but the creature was angry. He wanted to lash out, to get revenge, but the only person nearby was her.

With a sharp fury in his eyes, he glared at her. Her feathers raised to the challenge, but he was unbothered. Venka smoothed them back with her claws.

"I did not do this," she explained, motioning to the wreckage. "When I arrived, the fire had come to your home."

He answered with something, perhaps something unkind, and folded his arms.

"Why would I bother you or your people?" she asked, taken aback by the implication. "I did not even know your kind existed until yesterday. Why do you blame me, softskin?"

He shook his head and said nothing.

"I would never harm something like this," she sighed, looking at the vast structure. "I wish I could have seen it before. I find it wonderful, fascinating."

She looked at him. With a huff, she lifted herself off the ground and sat next to him in one motion, laying her hand against his arm as she watched his expression.

"I find you fascinating too," she admitted, offering a reassuring smile.

He looked at her hand and then up at her. His response was not surly or spiteful, even though he still appeared unhappy. Until she found her tribe again, she had no one, and the prospect of never seeing any of them again weighed on her. She looked at the creature, and all at once, she understood his burden and sorrow. At least with her, he had a chance, but his people were no more. Venka tried to imagine how she would feel with that knowledge and guessed that this would haunt him for some time. Yet, their immediate survival was the only thing that mattered.

Sighing, the creature tapped his chest and said something. She shook her head, but he simply tapped his chest again and repeated the word.

"Dahhvee?" she repeated. "Is this your name?" He motioned to her, his fingers rapping on the invisible surface between them.

Venka looked down and then up at him. Closing her eyes, she took his hand into her palm and pressed her snout to his palm before licking from the tip of his finger to the wrist, smirking at his startled expression. Obviously, his kind did not greet this way.

She released him and held out her palm as she put her opposite hand to her chest and said, "Venka."

He grimaced, but with a quick rasp of his tongue against her palm, he repeated it perfectly. Davee and Venka smiled together.

Evidently satisfied with the name situation, he pointed to the ruins and said another word. Venka motioned and asked, "Go?" Davee repeated it, miming walking with his nimble little fingers. "I see," she sighed. "Do you need things from your home?"

Davee frowned. She was saying too much.

"Do you," she pointed to him, "want," her fist tightened to indicate possession before she mimed the next words with her hands, "to go... there?" Before he could respond she tapped her chest. "I, Venka, I," she paused before making a cradling motion with her arm, "carry Davee?"

He nodded.

"Venka carry Davee there to go," he said in response. After a correction, he said, "Venka carry Davee there."

"Do you want to see," she used both hands to tap the scales on her flat cheeks, "or take?" she asked, picking up the bag on her side and dropping it.

"Take," Davee answered. "Want..." he thumbed the thin cloth against his body.

"Cloth?" she asked. "Clothes. Davee want clothes," she explained. When he pointed to his feet, she cocked her head as her feathers flared and followed the invisible line down his legs. With the back of a claw, she tested the smooth pad and jerked away when he flinched. Everything about the male was soft, pliable. She had been concerned about him perishing earlier, and had she known he was so dainty, he would not have gone without a blanket or something else. She understood then why he needed her to carry him; even the undersides of his feet were impossibly soft. Something about the prospect of an exotic male so unaccustomed to walking was...

Venka shook the dirty thought out of her mind and smoothed her feathers, unable to do anything about the blush on her cheeks and neck.

"Venka will carry Davee to find sandals for his soft feet," she declared, offering her hand to him. He smiled and allowed himself to be pulled up into her arms again.

With a guide that understood the runes on the walls, she felt much more confident walking the strange hallways, but she remained cautious of the danger that surrounded them. He guided her through the way she had initially come and at the first door, she intended to go to the right again, toward food, but that way had sagged under the heat and looked far too dangerous. Davee didn't want to proceed down that corridor; instead, he directed her to the left and into the shadows. After twenty or so paces, he halted her before a doorway, just wide enough for her claws to grasp and force open.

Depositing Davee gently nearby, she watched as he stood on the edges of his feet, his eyes scanning for unseen dangers while she pried the door open. Once she retrieved the male, he spent several moments brushing his feet clean with both hands. Obviously, there was danger for him there, but she remained unaffected. Perhaps due to her weathered soles?

Within the new chamber, shrouded in near-total darkness, he guided her to a hidden panel in the wall. Leaning forward in her arms, he pried it open.

"What do you have there?" she asked as he piled several items into his lap. Since the light was so poor inside the structure, she had trouble distinguishing anything except basic shapes, but the crafty male had a solution for that. Some of the objects crinkled like dried leaves, and he tore one open with his blunt teeth, unveiling the true prize within. As she watched, he gripped one item, and with a muted crack it began to glow a mesmerizing greenish-yellow; intensifying with a firm shake.

"You are a sorcerer of your tribe?" she breathed, her voice tinged with awe. "Magic from the male hand is rare indeed."

He smirked and muttered something before repeating the process several times. Each item emitted the same enchanting glow, except for one that shone a haunting blue, reminiscent of the smelly water from her first visit. Using some cordage included with the items, he bundled them together and dangled them just out of sight, but their glow carried on into the rest of the room and she could see rows of rectangular shapes. Davee pointed to one of the middle rows and she followed his instruction, looking around the corner at the squat benches and scattered debris between the rows.

Davee walked across the benches after she let him go, holding the bundle of glowing rods above as his fingers traced over the arcane runes.

He stopped at one of the tall rectangles and said some words; Venka only understood one to be his name.

Unable to remain still, she stepped onto the bench and cautiously approached him, squatting as he withdrew a collection of items from the open void. Many of them were clothes, her eyes fell upon him as he dressed himself, her feathers flaring high in a straight line that displayed her intense curiosity. As his body disappeared beneath the garments, she restrained her tail from wagging too hard; so captivated by the strange fasteners made of unfamiliar materials and beads. His feet were encased in fabric pockets of a cloth so white it seemed to glow, the form of his ankles and toes barely visible before he slipped them into the large sandals that covered everything. Strings threaded through impossibly fine holes, cinched tight, and tied with a bow, tucked into the lace.

Finally, he stood and and looked to her, offered his hand.

Venka gazed at it, then took it, allowing him to lead her across the benches to the other side of the room, the glowing rods lighting their path. On the opposite side, she stepped down, her eyes following his dexterous hands as they pried open a container. Within it contained a gift, a treat, her tongue flicking as he held it out, and she accepted it with a gentle nibble that ended in a satisfying snap once his hand was safely away.

An explosion of flavor, unlike anything she had known, surged from her jaw and cheeks, down her back, and into her tail. This substance was undeniably edible, savory until it turned sweet, with hints of alien fruits and a faint memory of... something. She sighed in delight as she chewed, her eyes closing to savor the sensation within her watering mouth. The flavor brought to mind the milk from a pregnant kill, Venka having sampled some upon her first hunt as a grown female as was custom, but the flavor had been twisted somehow...

Putting a hand to her cheek she could not suppress the soft moan, her neck scales blushing a deep crimson when he laughed.

Another morsel was pressed to her snout, she plucked it from his salty fingers with her flexible tongue, resuming her ecstatic chewing. All doubts about his worth to the tribe dissolved; surely anyone could be seduced by his tasty gifts.

"What is this?" she breathed, her eyes slowly opening. When he spoke the word, she swallowed the last of it. "Chezkek...?" she repeated. "Is that what I shall call this?"

He shrugged.

"I thank you for this chezkek," she sighed, bowing her head respectfully. "I have decided you do not owe me your life, so I accept this gift as a friend."

Davee said something else, motioning to a distant door in the middle of the sentence. When she didn't immediately follow, he started to walk that way.

"You have your sandals, Davee," she protested, pointing to his feet. Tapping her head, she motioned toward him and asked, "Why?"

He had no word for eating or drinking until she explained them, but Venka got the point and walked after the strange male into the darkness.

Their search of the ruins ended only when Davee could carry no more in the large bags he had acquired for them. The heavy mass upon her back remained a mystery. Had he not chosen to carry some of the load himself, she might have protested, but the structure's groans and shudders interrupted any chance for learning new words or sampling some of the wonderful things that the flames had not touched. Strangely, they encountered no other bodies except for one, which had perished sometime after the disaster struck.

Fortunately, she did not have to try to explain to him about the Low People yet. He seemed to understand the urgency of their mission, even if he did not know the details, and he only stopped briefly to say something to the corpse. For the first time, Venka witnessed his religious beliefs. He muttered a brief prayer in his language and made a gesture from head to abdomen, then from his right shoulder across his chest. The significance was clear, as were the beads clutched in his hand. This older male, perhaps a father, stirred the biting memory of her own lost parents, spurring her into action.

Davee watched as she placed her hand on the male's back, whispering a plea for the Goddess to carry his soul to its rightful place. Though she might not recognize him as one of her own, his soul still held importance. Kneeling, she embraced Davee, whispering another plea to the Artist to paint beauty over his terrible dreams. He would be receptive to such a request; the troubled mind was His favorite canvas.

Without further ceremony, they set off for the pass through the mountains, but by her estimation, it would have taken them another day's worth of travel to even reach it. After the sun began to dip under the horizon, she elected to abandon their things and climb a tree, but the haze had returned; the miraculous view of the pass existed somewhere within the soup of smoke. With less bounce in her step, she began to understand just how far off course they were. She sincerely hoped the Low People pursued them, not the Shaman and the children. Sahla and the other huntresses will protect and guide them, she thought.

Nightfall brought a surprise from Davee. Squatting nearby, she watched him unroll that he had placed at the top of her heavy pack. Soon, he had erected a thin shelter, just large enough for both of them if she crawled on her hands and knees. Yet even that was not good enough; her growing excitement was cut down at the root as he stopped her from entering unless it was done by sliding backward. He demonstrated this several times until she complied, her long figure sliding into a bed prepared specially for her.

There was room for two, she thought, but he had made a smaller bed for himself. They shared a meal of some of his people's food prepared with no heat, no flame, and went to sleep.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIVE

Something startled her.

Davee moved to silence the object that barked the offensive noise, but she flashed him a mean scowl.

"Why?" she asked. Her bladder demanded to know too, and when she moved to leave, he stopped her. "What is it now, Davee?" she asked, her voice edged with annoyance.

He carefully guided her feet out while explaining his actions in his unintelligible tongue, but all was made clear when he flicked the sharp edge of her claw with one of his soft fingers. Venka looked at the blankets he had provided her and noticed that her movements during the night had made scoring cuts, likely while she dreamed about chasing something or climbing. The claws on her fingers were equally dangerous to the soft materials that surrounded her. Davee was clever; he had anticipated her needs and provided...

She left the shelter before he could see the deep blush that coated her neck and cheeks. Modesty was sacred; restraint around menfolk was expected at all times, except during certain moments. They were not mated, and the next festival was two moons away, but in private, she allowed herself a few salacious thoughts about having such a pleasant mate. "Someday," she sighed.

Glancing around for danger, she attended to her morning business and banished any improper thoughts with meditative stretches. Afterward, she took another path on the way back and searched for things to forage. Work for boys and very young girls, but even a proud huntress could pick some of the delicious mushrooms peeking through the misty grass.

Unable to resist, she ate a few of the uglier ones as she walked. Having Davee try these would be good, she thought. By the time she returned, an assortment of mushrooms was nestled between her forearm and breast, much to Davee's surprise as he exited the tent. He did not eat any and refused to sample them when she brought one to his lips.

"Why?" she asked. When he mimed illness, she began to understand. "They are good for you, though. You must try some to keep your strength. These—"

"No," he said firmly, surprising her. He had evidently picked up the word during one of their clumsy conversations. Motioning to his throat, he mimed being ill again.

Venka shook her head. "These will not make you sick," she replied, gesturing to indicate vomit. "No sick."

Davee was not going to budge. She saw how determined he was to explain his reasoning as he sat and thought of a solution. Unlike the males of her own people, Davee thought very deeply and intensely. Their time together so far had been brief, but she knew that there was nothing frivolous or vain about him; he was a creature that put a great deal of consideration into practical tasks.

A solution came to him. She followed him to a patch of leaves that he cleared aside to reveal the soil below. Venka couldn't resist sitting across from him, her eyes watching his nimble fingers use a twig to draw the concept in his mind. When he drew a shape she did not recognize, he pointed to it and said a word she had not heard yet. What he did next astonished the huntress. She watched him examining her head as he peeked from side to side and scribbled out a very familiar shape to her.

"Skull?" she asked, tapping the scales beneath her eyes. "Bone?" Davee pointed to the other shape, repeating the word. "Euman?" she repeated.

He demonstrated with a finger to his throat as he emphasized the first syllable.

"Human," she said. "Human skull."

Davee was pleased, but he wasn't about to celebrate. He pointed to the other skull.

Slowly she said the word for her own kind, "Tow-wal-nah," with emphasis on each syllable. What she could not translate yet was the meaning. "We stand upright, we have been so blessed by Her to walk and not crawl," she said.

With words and concepts, he drew a line in the sand that ended where his palm blocked it.

"Stop?" she asked, trying to indicate the cessation of movement. Davee shook his head.

He took the stick in his hand and she watched his fingers climb up the length, one after another, until they had no more.

"Point?" she asked, offering a lone claw to demonstrate the word. "No, that isn't what you mean," she muttered, her feathers flaring as she examined the line. Then she understood. "End," she said confidently. "End of your drawing, end of the stick, end..."

She glanced at his face and then at the skull.

"Kill," she whispered. "Mushroom kill human," she said, demonstrating with a claw against his throat. "These make you sick, they poison."

"Mushroom poison Davee, kill human," he explained. Then when he forgot the syntax, he added, "They kill me."

Surprise flared most of the feathers up as she drew back. Not even a day ago he could not speak a single word of her tongue, and he had just said something very... direct. A shiver of fear and excitement crept up her tail. She wanted to see what other tricks the human creature had in that tall head of his. Even at her best, she knew, deep down, that he was much more intelligent than she could ever hope to be. Perhaps he even had wisdom surpassing the Shaman herself.

Davee smiled at her and took her claws into his hand. "Davee them mushroom... Fire? Venka eat them," he said, provoking another excited shiver throughout her body. "Good?"

She chuckled nervously. "You are very skilled at learning new things. I will be glad to have you cook," she gestured with a claw to put emphasis on the word, "the mushrooms for me."

Venka leaned back against the tree, rubbing her belly with a satisfied sigh, a pleased smile curling her lips as she licked the meal from between her sharp teeth. Davee watched her with a small smile of his own as he scrubbed ash from the fire onto the foreign cookware he had brought. They had enjoyed a very nice breakfast together of exotic foods that he had known how to prepare, but her helping had been greatly augmented by mushrooms he had fried in oil specifically for her to sample. She had lost control, gorging herself in a feeding frenzy that he was all too happy to enable.

"I have not eaten so good in many moons," she murmured. "I will not become weary today. Thank you, Davee."

He didn't know every word, she knew that much when she opened an eye to peer at him, but he understood her meaning.

"You me go?" he asked, pointing at the sun low in the sky.

"Soon," she nodded. "Let me rest."

"Rest?" he asked, miming sleep. "Why?"

A good question. He knew they had to hurry, but she didn't know how to explain why she was so far from her seaside home. When she moved to stand, he motioned for her to remain still and began packing the camp himself. All he wanted was conversation, presumably to learn.

Deciding to indulge him, she said, "Your meal was very good. I ate so much, I must let it rest in my belly."

"I make less..." he paused, pointing at the sun, then drew an imaginary line across the sky with his finger, down, and back to where he started. "What?"

She considered his question. "What is a 'day'?" she asked.

"No, this day," he pointed down, "what day," he gestured a bouncing motion with his finger.

"Tomorrow?" she asked. "This day is today; the next day is tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" he repeated, snapping his thumb and finger. "I make less tomorrow."

Cocking her head, she asked, "Why less tomorrow?"

"No rest," he answered as the shelter collapsed. "Why move many?"

"Move many?" she repeated, unsure. Davee clarified by jogging in place. "Yes, I see," she said with a chuckle. "Walk is slow, run is fast. Why do we run? We are being chased, hunted."

Davee dropped the rolled-up shelter and turned to her, Venka's feathers flaring automatically in response to his direct gaze and serious expression.

"What hunt you me?" he asked.

"Low People," she answered. "We will discuss this another time, Davee, but know that they have been hunting my tribe for many moons."

She waited for him to ask more questions, but he resumed packing instead. Suddenly curious, she watched him as he worked, but his actions and their things did not concern her. Davee was difficult to read outside of the most basic emotions and gestures; he had none of the usual cues that wordlessly told a story of his current emotions. Instead of a collection of feathers, he only had the short fur that said nothing to her as he carried out his task. They both smiled, nodded, shook their heads, and frowned in the same ways, but that was where the similarity ended.

Something was going on inside his head, though. She decided he had a point about resting and got up to help clear their camp.

They spent most of the next three days walking with broken, often fruitless, conversations sprinkled here and there. Much of their communication involved a form of natural sign language that was mutually intuitive. A tap to the head in a certain way to indicate a query, a motion of a hand, finger, or claw to trace a path of some strange thing he saw. Davee had a process of asking questions and then going very quiet, but his presence was like a torch in the night; Venka had never encountered someone or something that could think loudly before.

As they neared the valley's end, the winds shifted slightly. She gazed at the haze in the distance, tugged over the far ridge by the current. This smell was worse than before, stinging her nose and making her chest and throat hurt, but she had confidence they would leave it behind once they climbed the mountain. Spending time in the valley had seemed wise a moon ago, but her tribe's departure should have come sooner. Part of her was glad it hadn't; without her intervention, the human with her would be dead.

A lot of the concepts that she took for granted were new to him. It was like leading an infant at times. He was louder than she wanted, stumbling and stomping through the forest, frightening game away and making predators, if there were any, curious enough to track them. Venka was quite confident that they had outpaced the Low People; they did not move fast over long distances, but they remained a danger. Davee had not been instructed and so he did not yet know how evil they truly were.

Venka would have preferred never to tell him, but she knew that luck was in short supply for the people of the Hollow Reeds.

Her feathers twitched with every rustle in the underbrush—every unexpected sound—while her mind churned with thoughts as they continued their journey. The ruins where she found him would hopefully distract most of their pursuers, if they were even following her at all, but it would not delay them for long. Each step away from her tribe increased her anxiety, yet she had vowed to keep this strange, clumsy being safe. Without him, she could sprint back and scout the enemy's movements, but if she left him alone she feared he might wander where she could never find him again. The unknown contents of the bag on her back were another source of frustration, but she could bear the weight.

The climb ahead would be daunting with all that weight, but it was much better than scaling a cliff with him. Davee had at least proven wise enough to pack useful things; she saw and tasted that much.

The memory of seeing the spot where her tribe had once made camp lingered at the edge of her mind, taunting her sanity. She hoped that they had made it, that her interpretation was correct. She imagined the children's fear, the panic, the Shaman's order to break camp and carry their entire world straight up to the ledge where she had heard the great thunder. Venka shook her head to clear it; the idea that their pursuers would stick around to search after a raid was ridiculous. No, she knew they had been empty-handed, and the narrow escape led them into what she hoped was a frozen trap.

The landscape changed subtly as they moved closer to the mountains. The air grew cooler as the already thin pockets of familiar trees gave way to hardier species that made their homes between the rough stones and hard ground. Venka noticed small signs of wildlife, nothing worth chasing, but the larger game had been scared off. Davee's loud movements and occasional stumbling did not help, but she was patient and nursed him along with breaks in their march that became more frequent as the terrain ceased being cooperative.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the path, and she knew they needed to find shelter soon. As they moved forward, Venka's thoughts drifted to her tribe again, a silent prayer slipping past her lips. The Low People were relentless, and she could only hope they were more interested in tracking her and Davee than in pursuing the rest of the tribe.

What a horrible situation, hoping for either possibility meant someone other than her was in danger.

Venka glanced back at Davee, noting his fatigue. She concluded that he was not built for this kind of journey. His face had reddened from the exertion, his chest heaving with labored breaths, she appreciated how he had not complained. With the sun setting, she spotted a small clearing to set up camp.

"There we shall camp," she said, standing on the mossy rock.

He panted for a moment and leaned back to look. Davee was too exhausted to reply. He merely flailed an acknowledging wave at her and nodded as he took a drink from the hard waterskin he had brought with him. She sighed and sprang with practiced, athletic ease over to the next rock, squatting as she watched his meandering path below. Ahead of them was a small, but still very dangerous, crevice. She hopped down to steady him before confiscating his bag.

Venka wound back and got a running start before sailing over the gap in a single hop, setting his bag down as she slowed. Dropping her own, she turned around to catch him in case he did not make it.

Behind him, a hundred paces away, she could see the malevolent gaze from the edge of a rock.

Davee's weak jump fell short, but the scaly fist that grabbed his arm carried him the rest of the way.

He began to express his thanks, but she tossed him aside like a doll, her attention locked on the approaching pair. Her feathers raised in a threat display, her feet stepping back as she raked her claws into the moss for purchase. They loomed closer, her eyes darting around as she made herself low with a rumbling growl. A third was out there, she knew that much, and it was stalking her.

One of them hopped across the ledge to her side, between Venka and the male, her teeth bared as she snarled at the larger female. Then her partner crossed, snapping jaws at Davee as he stood tall over her. So that is their game, Venka thought. Divide her attention, use the male as bait, catch her in a move she couldn't defend, and then feast on them both. They had taken Jasha and Rahas that way. She would not be so easy.

Venka crouched low, her hand slipping down her side to caress the leather-wrapped flint blade.

The Low Person snarled and snapped her jaws, tongue flicking out as she glared at Venka with black eyes. Davee was trying to reason with the other one as it decided to draw a knife. She couldn't afford to kick the fight off too soon, but when her own tongue sampled the air she caught a taste of the unwashed body as the breeze pushed against her back. It was fresh.

"Davee! Run!" she growled.

Venka threw all of her weight sideways and picked her feet up, her tail flicking in the air as she gracefully hopped from one side of the crevice to the other; the ambusher lunged where she once was. Her toes dug into the moss, scoring it clean off the rocks as she surged back across again, inhaling with open jaws as she crossed the gap in a heartbeat. The third Low Person sprang away, but too slow; she thrusted through air between them with the blade.

The creature squealed and thrashed as the flint blade emerged out of her chest. When it twisted to stab at her, she struck again with a rake of her claws.

Sputtering a mouthful of blood, the Low Person stumbled back and gurgled through the fresh scores across its neck.

The first Low Person, seeing her kin fall, glared at Venka and warbled a threatening screech. Venka dropped to all fours, inhaling deeply, her back arching as she bellowed an ear-shattering roar.

Startled by the response, the Low Person snarled and sprang back, striking at the air as the larger opponent darted forward. She just had to keep Venka from Davee. Venka danced from foot to foot, striking open air, growling as she locked her eyes on the next target, waiting, watching for a pattern to emerge, all the while trying to circle around.

A spear point jabbed at her.

Venka jerked back, snapping her jaws as it came in again, driving her back further.

She saw Davee losing the fight, shouting as he had his opponent by the wrists, pushing side to side to try and flip her with no success. Venka tried to dodge and bypass her own foe, but she was driven across the gap by another strike of the spear, hissing with pain as it connected with her shoulder. She tested her arm as she weaved around a rock, the other Low Person grunting its awful tongue as it kept the spear pointed at her. She had no options now. Davee lost his grip as his opponent jerked back and bounded off a rock.

The blade in her fist came down on him. Venka's eyes widened.

A bright flash of red exploded where the creature's head was. Both of the Low People jerked and twisted in shock and Davee's attacker dropped her knife. He held something in his hands.

Venka threw herself across the gap in a silent strike, her sharp feet meeting the target first in the chest, driving the snarling beast down with a loud crunch. As it screamed, she bent down, grabbed the shoulders, and enveloped the screaming face in her open maw. Her jaw snapped shut with a thunderous crack.

Snarling, she snapped the neck bones, twisting and shaking her head under the command of her murderous instincts. With an arched back, she tossed her slain enemy's head up with her teeth and caught it again, the spray of blood arcing as she violently shook, the bones and skull crushing into a messy pulp. Lust for more overcame her. She bounded forth toward the other one, screaming as it tried to remove the lance of flaming red from its throat. Distracted, the Low Person couldn't stop the jaws snapping down on across her neck and chest. Venka's eye caught Davee staring as she shook her new prey violently, holding the body down with a foot as the spine separated and intestines spilled free.

Venka tossed the body aside, and it fell down the gash in the earth with a few wet slaps.

Ecstasy raced up her body, her claws twisted and curled as she bounded up a rock, puffed out her chest, and let loose a triumphant, feral roar.

Still riding the aggressive high, she balled her fists and paced. Within her ears, she could hear nothing but the drumming of her heart, but she knew he was talking. Or at least had said something. She wanted to lash out at him, blame him for this, but he had nothing to do with it. Venka stormed over to the first body and yanked her knife free, stabbing it back into the leather scabbard after wiping it on the dead scout. Camping here would not be possible, not anymore. They had to go higher still.

Calm muted the tempest. She focused on deep breaths that brought peace to the rest of her body.

Her mind returned.

Venka motioned to the nearest body as he looked up at her. "Low People," she snarled, wiping the blood off her lip. "Now you know."

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIX

Davee moved with newfound purpose after their encounter, at times even outpacing her as he ascended the steep, shadowed ledge.

Worn ragged, she refused to be outdone by any male. They climbed together to a spot that looked like it could host them, a small opening in the rocks that would have been impossible to scale for creatures so dependent on warmth, and she hoped that it wasn't too cold for him. Her breath misted in the frigid air as the cliff's summit came into view. Davee reached it first, flattening himself as she used her last ounce of strength to leap up.

Davee looked into the cave, snapped one of the glowing rods, and tossed it in all the way to the back. Nothing ran out, and nothing lingered.

He sighed and crawled in while she watched. It wasn't big enough for him to stand up, not quite, but it had plenty of room for them to roll out their bedding together. Venka followed in after him and stopped his unpacking.

"You shall sleep next to me," she said firmly.

He nodded, taking her pack and rolling out the larger mat without a word uttered. The scent of blood clung to her, but the water she carried at least allowed her to rinse it from her head, neck, and breasts. Being exposed to the biting wind made the task horrible, and she spent longer on her claws, but soon she was free of the wretched grime. Her breastcloth was ruined, though. It finally had to be discarded, the fresh one waiting in her bag would replace it. With a single arm she covered her chest and entered the cave, startling Davee.

Looking away, he sat in uncomfortable silence while he waited. She wanted to laugh, but her focus was on tying the new cloth.

"You may look again," she said, settling on her mattress.

Davee experimentally glanced her way before turning fully, sliding himself closer as he worked on the orange device in his hands. Her feathers couldn't stay still as she watched him, recognizing the device that cast the fire magic. She wanted to know more, but inquiring about magical matters was dangerous. Forbidden. A huntress was not allowed to know, for the power of magic was too great for anyone except the most wise and learned. Stories told of a time when this was not the case, and they were all bad stories.

He said something with a furious tone, evidently unhappy with the device.

Curiosity got the better of her. "What is wrong?" she asked, immediately regretting her words.

Davee looked up with rage in his gray-blue eyes. He muttered his foreign words before throwing the object across the cave.

Settling against the wall, he folded his arms and sulked.

"I am sorry," she said softly.

Davee shook his head. "Break," he said, miming the motion of a broken stick in the same way as before. "I... forgot? Forgot how to not break."

"Fix?" she asked, laying her head down. "I wish I could help you. I do not know magic."

"Magic?" he asked, tapping his head with a curious expression. "What is magic?"

She pointed at the glow rod. "Magic," she said. Then she pointed at the discarded device. "Magic."

He pointed up and traced a motion. "Day? Magic..." he held his splayed hands up and motioned downward. "This mean magic?"

"I do not understand, Davee."

He grabbed the glow rod and closed his fist around it. She watched him point at the circle of light cast on the rock below, and then on the rocks above.

"That is light," she said. "Sun lights the day, fire makes light, glow rod is light," she explained, watching the strange object clatter against the rock. "Magic makes light."

"Magic makes light..." he repeated. "What is not day?"

"Night?"

"What is light in night?" he asked. "Up."

"The stars?" she asked, unsure of the question's purpose. "The moons are bright as well."

"Magic?"

She nodded.

"Fire magic?" he asked.

Suddenly she figured out his questions, a smirk crawling across her lips. "Not all fire is magic. Your fire was magic, the fire I made to warm you was not."

Davee groaned and sat back, the revelation sinking in as he put a palm to his face. Somehow she seemed to have answered something incorrectly or spoken out of turn. He seemed distressed by her explanation. Kneeling, he stretched and retrieved the device before sitting back down.

"Not magic," he said softly, holding it out to her.

With her finger and thumb she warily took the device and examined it in the faint glow. Whatever it was, it was meant to be held and pointed, but it was built for smaller hands and did not fit so comfortably when she wrapped her fingers around it. Venka handed it back to him.

He pointed to the open hole. "Fire inside," he explained, gripping the device in his own hand. With a movement of a single finger a part on the back slid out, clicked, and then loudly snapped back into its original position. She jerked away, smoothing down her startled feathers. He pointed to the hole again. "Fire run out, hurt."

"This is a weapon?" she asked. When he didn't understand she unhooked the scabbard from her side and set it down between them. "Weapon, my claws are weapons, my teeth are weapons. Weapons kill."

"How say not kill weapon?" he asked, miming the motion of cutting.

"Tool, knives are tools. Tools are used to make work easier."

She found it interesting that he made the association between weapon and tool so easily, but he had seen her use the knife for mundane tasks that did not involve stabbing something through the chest. Perhaps he understood the relationship through observation, but she doubted that. She noticed that he was not hysterical or emotional, the brief fight and climb to safety did not seem to bother him.

"Up, very up," Davee repeated, pointing to the sky.

Venka's feathers twitched with curiosity. "You use this to make light in the sky? Why?"

He paused, considering how to explain. "Danger. Help." He mimed looking around, then pointed to the device and up again. "People see, come help."

"Ah," Venka nodded, understanding dawning. "Like a signal fire, but in the sky."

Davee smiled, pleased she grasped the concept. "Yes. Signal."

"But it's broken now?" she asked, gesturing to the device.

He nodded, his expression hard as he said, "Broken. No help."

A silence fell between them as the implications sank in. Venka felt a pang of sympathy for Davee, realizing how vulnerable he must feel without his tool for calling aid. She glanced around the dark, cold cave, then back at him.

"We should sleep," she said, noting how he shivered slightly. "It's too cold to stay awake all night."

Davee looked at her, then at the limited space in the cave. He seemed to understand the unspoken suggestion but hesitated.

Venka sighed, her breath visible in the chill air. "This is not the first time I cradled you in my arms to keep you warm," she explained, somewhat annoyed. "We are warmer together."

He nodded slowly, accepting the logic of her words. "Together. Warm."

She nodded, smiling reassuringly as she beckoned with her claws. "Yes, you will keep me as warm as well."

Davee carefully moved towards her, his eyes on her claws, but she had saved his life and that afforded her a great deal of trust. Venka found herself feeling quite proud at having earned it.

When he settled close to her, she swaddled him in his own blanket before enveloping them both within hers. Enduring the cold was not easy, but she had grown used to spending lonely nights curled up in a ball with only thin leather to protect her. This cold was not the worst she had survived alone, but with him to warm her she felt quite confident that she would wake again. He squirmed for comfort, her claw running through the fur on his head before she had the mind to stop it. He tensed at first, but then he relaxed.

"Does that settle you?" she asked. "It soothes my people as well."

He nodded.

With a satisfied huff she wiggled herself closer to him. "Good. Now sleep."

They had been running through the forest, the Wind Song boy's blue paint glittering in the beams of light as she chased him. His lurid smirk as he glanced over his shoulder ignited a wild fury within her. Venka surged ahead and tackled him, their breaths hot and quick as she tore the clothes from his body. He was older than her by cycles of the moons and seasons, but by custom, he was still a boy; at least until she made him complete. Her teeth sank into his beautiful hide, and he thrashed, fighting her grip. He clawed behind him at her loincloth, his little claws sliding up her body without effect.

Blood splashed against her eager tongue, and she lapped at his claimed hide, flipping him over to gaze into his yellow eyes burning with raw lust. A smirk crossed Venka's lips as a sensual purr left her throat, her claws wandering over her latest conquest. Her new mate growled back and snapped at her, forcing her to pin him down.

"Venka."

She shook her head and blinked her eyes.

Across the cave, the human sat uncomfortably, still attempting to repair his broken magic tool. She looked around in confusion, the vivid dream seeming more real, certainly more pleasant, than the frigid bite of reality. She longed to return, at least until he had forgotten about her groping a roll of blankets.

Hiding her reddened throat, she tried to keep the blush out of her feathers. "I was dreaming," she said quickly. He looked up at her and then back down. Of course, that had been obvious, and so, feeling silly, she blurted out, "Of a difficult hunt."

Davee didn't look up; he nodded with a raised brow and said nothing. She knew he didn't believe her, but he did not disrespect or mock her. After settling herself, she pushed the covers off, and the cold air made her throat clench as it hit her warmed body. That time he did laugh a little as she danced in place, trying to catch her breath.

"How can it be so cold?" she asked, her body rippling with a light shiver that made her feathers ruffle. "I may decide to ignore stretching for the day."

"Not most cold that are," he warned as he watched her begin.

Venka didn't want to believe him, but he had proven to be wise beyond appearances. With one leg back against her tail, she placed a foot in front of her and lowered herself to the floor, her knee rising past her shoulder as she strained her arms forward to release the tension of a fitful sleep from her back and thighs. Standing up again, she repeated the process and held it for a bit longer to allow a muscle in her lower back to give way. Other stretches would have to wait, but on completion, she couldn't help but writhe and roll her hips as she felt the pleasant rush wash over her.

With a happy sigh, she twisted her arms out and rotated them, rolling her shoulders with a happy trill. Davee was staring at her.

"Did you fix the sky signal?" she asked, affording him the same courtesy from before.

Davee scowled and held it out. "How say not move?" he asked, pointing to a round circle of the same odd mineral that his home had been built out of. Venka squatted down next to him and observed, tracing his stubby finger to the offending part. "Not move."

"Stuck?" she asked, carefully taking the little device made of some hard, orange material into her large hands. "This circle of your... Mineral, stone, this needs to move?"

Davee said a word she had never heard before.

"What is metal?" she asked as she tried to use a sharp claw to dig under the piece. After some effort, it popped free. She held the metal cylinder between her claws. "This is where the fire goes?"

"Yes, fire inside," he answered, producing another for her to look at. This one was not hollow; it was not burned inside, and it weighed a little more. He pointed to a small divot in the back of the first one. "This..." he struck his fists together, "here, fire light, signal go up."

"Or into a mouth," she muttered, vividly remembering the Low Person's pained and horrified wailing. The stench of blood still lingered; she probably had some in her scales. "Yet you say this is not a weapon."

Davee took the objects back and put them into a pouch that dangled from his pack. He turned back to her and pointed at her claws, the implication was obvious.

Venka snorted and ruffled the fur on top of his head. "Yes, Davee, clever point," she said with a small grin that only widened when he pushed her hand away and laughed. "Come. We must leave, the Low People will be scheming, and we must keep moving."

Climbing down the small peak took little time and Venka noted wisps of smoke from the Low People's fires further down the pass. They would be nestled inside their little tents to absorb as much heat as possible before wrapping themselves head to toe in furs and strips of cloth. After that the hunt would be on.

"They're following us," Venka sighed, grinning into the biting wind.

Davee scowled and looked up at her. "Why?" he asked, miming the smile. "Why good?"

"Why do I smile?" she replied. "I smile because they hunt us, Davee. They could not track my tribe's escape, so they must believe I will lead them there."

"Tribe?" he asked.

"I am of the Hollow Reed Tribe," she said proudly. "I intended to take you to them, adopt you into the tribe, for you have no home now. I vowed I would protect you."

He didn't seem to fully understand, but still smiled.

"Do you wish to know my plan?" she asked. When he nodded vigorously she had to laugh. "Alright, Davee. I plan to lead them away and around the Great Lake of the North, until I see the landmark to turn toward the trail. By then we should have led them a long ways off our path, and in these lands they are said to be few in number."

Within her mind she had memorized a crude map of their planned journey, the various waypoints the tribe had taken to arrive at their new home had been drawn as well as the scouts could manage. One of them spoke of an old trail around a large body of water, later confirmed as the Great Lake. The mountain peak on the other side resembled a face watching the setting sun, visible from all angles except from behind. Venka knew its position roughly on the other side of the lake. Finding the old trail would help.

Davee was processing the plan, his little mind a storm of thought.

"We go this way," he pointed forward and to his left, "make Low People go, then go this way," he mimed going around a large obstacle to his right, "then see tribe?"

She shook her head. "We will have to follow their trail after that. Our new home is to a place we have never lived before."

"Low People chase," he muttered. "How say..." He mimed a slashing and then stabbing motions.

"Kill? Fight? Battle?" she offered.

"Fight... How say many fight? Day then day then day of fight?"

"Days of fighting?" she asked.

Davee sighed and shook his head. "No, many fight. Many day!" he exclaimed.

Venka chuckled. "That is war, Davee," she replied, but her expression dropped. "I know what you are about to ask me. Yes, the Low People made war with the Hollow Reeds. We... We did not win, Davee."

A loud thud behind them rattled her bones.

Facing the threat, she raised her feathers to fight whatever startled her. But there, in front of her, stood a creature she wished in a thousand lifetimes she never would see again. From snout to tail, she was longer than fifteen of Venka's body lengths laid end to end. Her four stout legs were so wide that Venka could not wrap her tail around them and reach them with her claws. Her head alone, flat and stubby with a row of sharp spines running along the edges of her jaws and a crest of more spires that continued in two rows along her body to her tail, was wide enough to snap up a whole tent with everyone inside. Her hide was brown with black diamonds with ashy gray centers, running from neck to tail with splatters of black, tan, and brown flowing between them.

She had many names, but Venka knew her as Ranathawi.

Queen of the Hills.

"Davee, move behind me very slowly," Venka breathed, her feathers flattening as she looked away. "Very slowly, do not look at her."

Ranathawi females were very territorial; they understood the feather signals and scent cues of the Upright People. Many hunters reacted instinctively, taking their displays as a challenge. Venka had willed herself to be deferential, reverent, toward the mighty beast. They rarely bothered with her kind except to keep them far away, but if she had not fed recently, she had two bites slowly backing away in front of her. Somewhere out here, Venka thought, she had a mate and probably dozens of pups as big as the human. Nearly all of them would die before adulthood, but the ranathawi would protect her litter as fiercely as any mother.

When the beast moved Venka lowered her head and looked away, shuffling backward faster and faster. Cowardice was one thing, but this was survival. "Lower your head!" Venka snarled under her breath. "If she feels challenged—"

Leaping forward, the ranathawi issued an ear-shattering roar three paces from them, ruffling her feathers and knocking Davee over as he scrambled back. Venka knelt and made a plaintive trilling noise in imitation of one of her young as she shielded Davee from view.

Intrigued, the creature cocked her head and shuffled to the side to get a better view of what was clearly not a baby ranathawi. Unfortunately, the ruse would not last. Venka tried to pick Davee up and carry him, but the mighty beast had other plans when she caught Venka's wayward glance.

"Run," Venka whispered. "Get up, Davee. Run."

Davee slowly picked himself up and made to run off, but the movement finally did it. With a loud screech, the giant beast rushed forward, maw open, and Venka kicked with all her might to send Davee one way while she went the other.

A massive paw came down next to her head as it charged through, the claws so large that they stood taller than her chest even when sunk into the ground. She rolled and scrambled to her feet, unarmed, but when it turned toward the male, her feathers flared up. She wound back, and Venka roared a challenge to the titan.

With a wrathful glint in the ranathawi's eye, she glanced at Venka before turning fully to meet the little challenger before her.

Venka's heart raced as she faced the enormous beast. Her entire body tensed, every instinct screaming at her to flee, yet she stood her ground.

She knew she stood no chance in a direct fight, but the sight of Davee's terrified eyes steeled her resolve. She had to buy him time to escape. With a deep breath, she let out another challenging roar, her feathers fully erect to make herself appear larger, meaner, a worthy foe for such a grand opponent. The sound echoed off the surrounding rocks, mingling with the roaring wind. Her muscles coiled, ready to spring at a moment's notice, every fiber of her being focused on survival.

The ranathawi responded with a deafening bellow that shook the very ground, reverberating inside Venka's own chest. It charged forward, its massive jaws snapping at the air where Venka had been a moment before. She dove to the side, rolling and springing back to her feet in one fluid motion, bouncing from foot to foot as the momentum carried her, feeling the ground tremble beneath her as the beast's claws gouged deep furrows into the earth.

"Keep moving!" she shouted to Davee. Her eyes flicked towards him, seeing his small figure scrambling away, fear driving him forward.

The beast's tail swung around, nearly catching Venka as she ducked. She could feel the wind from the near-miss ruffling her feathers, each strand vibrating with the force of the beast's power. Using her agility to her advantage, she darted between the ranathawi's legs, confusing it momentarily, the scent of its earthy musk filling her nostrils.

But the creature was smarter than it looked. It stomped its feet, trying to crush Venka beneath them. Each thunderous impact sent shockwaves through the ground, sending shockwaves through her bones as she narrowly avoided each strike, her movements growing more desperate with each passing second.

Venka's lungs burned as she gasped for air, her muscles screaming with each movement. She knew she couldn't keep this up for long.

Her eyes darted around, searching for anything she could use to her advantage. Desperation clawed at her mind, the weight of her responsibility pressing down like a physical force.

That's when she spotted a narrow crevice in the nearby rocks.

Too small for the ranathawi, but just big enough for her and Davee. A glimmer of hope sparked within her, giving her the strength to push on.

"Davee!" she called out, gesturing wildly toward the opening. "There!" Her voice was raw, each word a struggle against another roar.

She made a break for it, zigzagging to avoid the ranathawi's snapping jaws. The beast's hot breath washed over her as it nearly caught her, its teeth grazing her tail. Panic surged through her, but she forced it down, focusing on the path ahead.

Venka's claws scrabbled against the rocky ground as she pushed herself harder, willing her legs to move faster. She could see Davee ahead, limping toward the crevice. He was almost there, but the ranathawi was closing in fast, its monstrous form bearing down on them with relentless fury.

In a desperate move, Venka grabbed a handful of loose stones and flung them at the beast's eyes, stumbling to her knees in the process. The stones struck true, causing the ranathawi to rear back, shaking its massive head in confusion and anger. The momentary distraction was all she needed.

That's when she heard a strange click behind her.

Davee shouted something as the monstrous blur of scales and teeth bore down on Venka, eager to kill. When the ranathawi looked up, the only thing she could see was a dazzling explosion.

Venka scrambled back and away as she made for Davee, the ranathawi screaming and stomping behind her, but he was already hobbling toward safety, clutching his already swelling hand. Her claws hooked the bag as she thundered past, and she made a clumsy effort to get it on, the both of them scrambling into the rocks.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVEN

They stayed out of sight as the enraged beast above stomped about. Venka's heartbeat was in her ears, her gut in her throat, as she remained perfectly still and just breathed. Across from her, in the shadows, Davee flexed his hand experimentally and stopped with a pained shudder. She implored him with her eyes to remain perfectly quiet as the ranathawi sniffed the air, their eyes locked together as they waited and breathed.

After a tense moment, the ranathawi departed, pride wounded but territory defended. Venka had to know. She put one leg across the span next to Davee's head, held herself with her shoulder to the rock, and used the opposite leg to find a higher spot for purchase before pushing up.

With her head flat, she peered over the top of her snout, level with the ground above, and saw the giant sauntering away. Carefully, she lowered herself.

Venka glanced at Davee, his face unusually pale. Bringing her lips to his ear, she barely whispered, "We must move, can you?"

He nodded with a wince.

They had a path away that the ranathawi could not follow straight ahead. The crevice widened and narrowed, but it definitely led somewhere. Silently, she led the way, her senses alert, tongue flicking to taste the chalky, moist air. Each step took them lower until the crevice became a narrow cave. She stopped to let her eyes adjust to the darkness.

Reaching back, Venka pulled him close to her and kept her hand against his neck and shoulder. He reached up and gripped her fingers with his good hand.

Reassuring him could wait. She walked them through the dark and avoided the shadows where even her eyes could not see, so dark and so deep that anything could lurk there. A creature she had never smelled before lurked in one such alcove, lingering high above; she saw light glitter off its moist back. Apprehension and unease roiled into wrath that snaked up her nerves and burst forth with an erect display across her entire mane—her lips bared a further warning.

When it moved toward her, a low growl rumbled in her chest, her hand across his neck possessive, pulling him close to her. Davee was limp against her side as she inched them along, always facing the shadowy threat, until it slithered away in a flash of black scales, sharp spines, and legs too numerous to count.

With her anger subsiding, she huffed proudly and settled her feathers before moving on.

Through the cave, they emerged into an opening that widened until a steep cliff dropped away before them. Dropping down was not an option; she chose a spot to climb down to the steep hillside below, much of it covered in loose debris.

These rocks looked much like the ones she had seen several days ago when scouting ahead for the tribe. Being from the swamps, Venka remembered the harsh lesson about rocks and hills that had been taught to the entire tribe. Climbing them was not only foolish and a waste of effort, but it would quickly become deadly.

"Stay close to me," she instructed, shifting the foreign pack further up her shoulders and looping her satchel's strap over the knot so it fit snug against her. Testing the rocks, she dug her claws into the nearest one, smirking at the firm purchase.

They had only a foot's width to walk, and her bulk required pressing herself to the rock, stepping sideways. She huffed in annoyance as the rocks irritated her breasts, but there was no time to adjust. Bruises could be dealt with later. She focused on holding on, occasionally glancing at Davee's one-handed shuffle, his other hand tucked inside his clothes for protection.

From above, a rock came loose and whistled down until it rattled off the cliff above her and showered her with debris. Shaking her feathers clean, Venka scowled and gave a look to the male. He had to be aware of the dangers above.

Proceeding forward again, she glanced over her shoulder and noticed the steep incline actually ended in another cliff. Spires of rock adorned with trails of green and clusters of stubborn vegetation on top were visible in the distance, the canopy of what looked to be a swamp below.

A clatter of rocks followed by a horrified wail caught her attention.

Venka caught sight of Davee just as the rocks below him gave out. He fell straight down where he stood with his arms stretched out as he helplessly slid backward.

"Davee!" she shouted.

He was flailing his one good arm to grab something, anything, his other now out and pressed against the hillside in a vain attempt to slow his descent. Further below, the cliff gave out some hundred paces away, and he was beginning to pick up speed as the entire side of the hill began to shift.

Venka knew she had to act. Gritting her teeth, she inhaled sharply and sprang off after him. Unfortunately, her heavy pack threw off her balance, and Venka landed with an undignified thud against the hill and bounced, her tail thrashing as her feet scrambled for purchase.

More debris started to move.

Fortunately, she was approaching him faster than he slid towards the edge. Her mind flicked through dead-end ideas and panicked solutions until his feet left solid ground. Lunging out, she grasped him by the pack and pulled.

A fistful of fabric came back as he continued to fall away. Venka lunged again for him and grabbed him by the arm just as her own body went over the edge, claws scraping until...

A rock. With all her might, she gripped it and screamed as the weight of the male, herself, and the pack were pitted against the vicious grip of a lifelong hunter. Items tumbled out of Davee's pack and clattered on the trees barely visible in the mist below, joined by rocks and gravel as the hill began to give way. She needed to be far, far away when that happened.

Pulling him up, she used a burst of strength to shove him against her belly and chest. Davee gripped her like a baby.

"Hold on to me, do not—" Venka screamed as a rock struck her hand and bounced over them.

Pulling her legs up and crossing her ankles, she provided the injured male a place to sit. One hand, then the other, found the chalky rock surface and clawed into it as she slowly climbed over to her right. Boulders were coming down where they had been, giant chunks hidden in the mess of small stones and flakes coming out to tear off the side of the cliff where she had just placed her hands. More rocks began to come down, flowing over them as she dangled from the ledge.

Finally, she spotted refuge. Large rocks tumbled across the way in front of her, but she remained firmly focused on her goal. Sand and small pebbles flowed over them both in little waves, her feathers caked with dust. Venka kept crawling even as boulders the size of her torso slammed into the cliff next to her vulnerable fingers, some coming so close that they cast a shadow over her as they bounced toward the swamp below. A large cliff jutted out from the loose hillside from the mountain that served as a wall to keep the rest of it from coming down. Venka allowed herself a glance back and saw nothing but a rolling cloud of dust. Had they stayed, she and the male would have been buried alive.

Pulling herself up the rockface, she found a flat, hard surface. There she collapsed, both arms embracing Davee as she held him tight against her, both of their bodies panting hard.

They had survived.

He angrily stacked the contents of his pack in neatly arranged rows in front of him, his focus razor-sharp as he took stock of what remained and what her clumsiness had cost them. He hadn't said anything to her yet, but she sat in dumb, embarrassed silence as he muttered under his breath and whispered what she imagined to be numbers accompanied by each bob of his blunt finger. Many of the things he had gathered from the ruins were small, easily portable, and their position within his pack put them in the area accessed when they made camp.

A lot of his exotic cookware was missing. Venka's heart ached with guilt, and she pushed aside selfish thoughts of delicious meals—her shame already immense.

"Davee, I am sorry for my clumsiness," she said, placing a hand on her chest, her feathers ruffling uneasily.

"No!" he growled, startling her. Catching himself, he sighed, pressing a hand to the smooth curve between his furry brows and the light brown patch on top. After a tense moment, he softly said, "No, Venka. No sorry for you."

She frowned.

"I must, Davee," she said quietly, leaning down to meet his eyes. "This is my fault. I should have protected you better, and for this, I am truly sorry."

"Not true, is not fault of Venka, or..." He dropped his hand and looked off into the distance, shaking his head. "No fault of us, Venka."

Reassured, she reached out and touched his leg with a smile, and his anger melted. He smiled back at her and nodded.

She sighed. "I do not suppose you know other male work, do you?" she asked. When he looked at her with a quizzical expression, she said, "Males make the home and carry out all the tasks within. I do not know the ways of your people, but I had hoped you could do other tasks expected of a male given how easily you cooked for both of us."

He narrowed his eyes and asked, "What work?"

"Weaving," she said, holding up the braided patchwork of her bag before motioning with her claws. Then she scratched at one of the remaining cups made of the foreign material and said, "Carving, though this can be female work too. You understand?"

"Weaving cloth," he said as he ran his thumb over the cloth of the pack. When he pointed to her bag he asked, "What cloth?"

"Leather, that is woven cloth, but woven so tightly and finely than anything I have ever seen," she admitted. "I recognize much of your things when I see you use them, but they are so much more... Better than our own. What did we lose?"

He put his hands up and sighed, clearly not attempting to explain the many wondrous items either lost in the muddy water or crushed. Instead, he took the pack and produced a circular device from deeper within, and with a strange, wet crackle, he stretched a length of impossibly thin material and tore it away with his teeth. Venka was immediately curious, so he produced another shorter piece and stuck it to the end of her claw.

It held very firm, impossibly firm, and she could not scrape it off. While she toyed with it, he used the sticky strips to patch the gaping wound her claws had made. Venka noticed the opposite side of the material was glossy and smooth, but if she pushed her claw into it, the glue underneath pushed through. Davee did not need to explain; it was instantly obvious that the sticky circle cloth was meant to repair things, patch holes, and potentially fasten one thing to another. All the explanation she needed came from a simple demonstration on her own claw.

Much of his gear was naturally intuitive even if she had never seen anything like it before, but he seemed to enjoy giving her little demonstrations or things to play with; it was the human that was the true mystery.

"How is your hand?" she asked.

"Hurt, not broke," he replied, pausing the task to hold out his blistered and bruised fingers.

After braving the dangers of the past four days she was beginning to feel the weight of the past three moons press on her mind and soul. A huntress was a provider, someone that kept others alive, and she had been called upon to act as a warrior more than once. From the Riverlands to the valley she had personally watched twelve of her tribe-sisters die, four of their mates joining them, and all to things that seemed so easily prevented looking back. Something as simple as a falling rock turning the hillside into a river of stone, that was all it took.

Though she had not known him long, she felt the grip of worry against her throat over the very real possibility that she would not be able to keep him safe. Perhaps it was selfish of her, but she needed Davee to live.

Venka scowled, but she estimated that this wound would not become serious. Looking up at him, she asked, "Our sky signal, it is gone?"

Davee nodded, motioning the explosion that claimed the device and nearly his own hand.

"It served us well in its final moment," she said with a playful smirk.

As he placed the items carefully back into his pack, Davee nodded and grinned, and Venka giggled at her own little joke.

Davee took some gear from Venka's pack and put it into his before they began their walk across the narrow plateau toward the ridge they had fallen from. Venka realized they had somehow ended up on the level she had intended to reach. As she suspected, the hillside flattened out enough, with shrubs and moss indicating stability. Though the ground was uneven and threatened to break an ankle or a leg, it would at least not give out from under them.

They found a place to camp just as the sun began to set. Venka watched as Davee grew frustrated again. Some of the tools he used to make camp, such as the exotic hammer that could even strike and split stone, had been lost, along with his primary means of making fire. Wisely, he had packed several small devices that smelled awful and produced a hissing flame that could burn outward in any direction. Fortunately, she carried the majority of the food, and soon he had prepared a delicious meal of hearty meats, mushrooms, and greens she had stashed in her bag.

While she ate, he asked to see the bag. Surprised at his interest, she handed it to him and watched his little fingers play over the simple embroidery her father had made.

Where the bag came from, she didn't know; one day her mother had brought it home and set it down in front of him while he painted strips of meat with a thick brine to cure them. Venka had not yet grown enough to be ready for her first eggs, but the memory felt close to that time. After finishing his task, her father looked up at his mate and then at her, weaving shapes of feathers dangling from the edges of a circle. When he asked her if she wished for bones or beads, Venka shook her head; she wanted nothing to ruin the beautiful pattern he had made.

As she finished explaining its story, the outstretched hand of her father became Davee's as he handed the bag to her.

"Where father?" he asked.

Venka's face and feathers dropped as the memory drenched her in sorrow and pain. He saw the hurt on her face and frowned with a solemn nod.

"A sickness in his chest," she tapped her own, "took him from us before we left. My father, his name was Ankos, he..." Venka shook her head as tears threatened to form.

"Sorry, Venka," Davee said softly.

She would not cry in front of him. Ever. Venka branded that vow into her mind and kept it there until its heat boiled her tears before they left her eyes.

"My father told me that he had a dream," she said, her gaze off into the night. "A dream that I found a box that I could not open, but inside would be something that I would never want to lose. He said I would break my claws on it before it gave up its secret, and I would know a lot of pain. After he left us, I told the Shaman, but she had no help for me."

Davee looked at her for a moment, his calculating mind working through some unknowable process. "I would like," he paused, searching for words in the fire, "like to see... have seen, your father," he said, trying to console her.

Venka's throat tightened and she nodded. Still looking away, she softly said, "When the Artist painted that dream for him, he had a higher purpose, and..."

Her eyes betrayed her again. Venka's lip quivered, and she stood up, leaving Davee by the fire.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER EIGHT

They had traveled for another day down the mountain and made camp without saying much, the next morning setting out along a worn path that meandered through the rocks. Venka's nostrils flared as she noted many tracks and scrapes as they walked, the huntress guessing that it was used by a number of different animals out of convenience. The scent of prey lingered in the air, mingling with the crisp mountain breeze. Predators lurked where prey frequented, and she stayed ever vigilant, her muscles taut as she guided Davee away from dangers when her instincts sounded the alarm. As dusk approached, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, she chose to camp on a relatively flat, slightly sloped spot in the hills.

Sleep did not come easy for either of them until they completed a fitful migration around the shelter ending in a smooth rut between the unseen rocks that put them next to each other. With no fire and the cold setting in, they sought warmth in each other's presence. The rustle of their blankets and the soft whisper of their breath were the only sounds in the stillness of the night.

Venka woke up holding his blanketed form close to her chest, a strange, comforting sensation washing over her. Her tail twitched contentedly as she watched the slow rise and fall of the blanket with each gentle breath. Despite how familiar and natural it felt, she could not recall ever feeling that way before. A sensation of protectiveness, a sated longing, and perhaps a glimmer of hope rolled into one. She relished this feeling so much that she drifted back to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic sound of Davee's breathing.

At dawn, they were startled awake by the shrill call of an animal from the rocky heights. They milled about aimlessly, eating their remaining food that required no fire. Venka's snout wrinkled as she sampled the exotic supplies that Davee had brought with them. They were not always so delectable, and even he seemed to grimace from the taste, his face contorting in a way that almost made her chuckle. From that point onward, they would need to preserve their stock of his alien rations, and any further supply of food would need to be procured from natural sources.

As Venka walked back into camp, the gravel crunching under her feet, she saw Davee looking up at her. His brow furrowed as he asked, "Where are we going?"

Tossing the dressed and skinned carcass of one of the mountain animals down, she used some of the moss to scrub her scales clean of blood and grime. The earthy scent of the moss mixed with the metallic tang of blood as she worked. Water was scarce, but the moisture in the moss combined with dirt's grit was enough to mask the smell.

"Away from here," she finally answered, watching him use the impossibly sharp blade to cleave through the meat and bone. "Your speech has improved."

"Thank you," he mumbled wearily, still with a very thick accent.

Venka's tail swished playfully as she smirked and asked, "Can you sing?" When he looked at her, she demonstrated with a small tune, her voice carrying on the mountain air.

"No, not me, but if you give me some days, I might have something like that," he answered. He lifted the meat and added, "Thank you for getting this."

Pride swelled through her, Venka grinned and asked, "Does it please you when I hunt?"

"I like to eat," he confessed with a small chuckle. "This is the only thing I know I can eat."

Between them sat a stack of dried mushrooms, preserved by the mountain air and still bundled from their misadventures two days ago. The fungi gave off a faint, earthy aroma. They had lost much flavor and required Davee's skilled hands to prepare them, but the unspoken implication was there. Eventually, he would have to try something he could find on his own.

Davee reached out, broke off a small piece, and sniffed it before putting it to his tongue.

"Tastes... burns, what word is for that?"

"Spicy," she explained, watching him closely. Her feathers flicked, betraying her concern. "I enjoy these, but you said they will kill you. They are poisonous to humans, are they not?"

"Many mushrooms are," he admitted, staring at the small piece. "Maybe they will be safe if I cook them."

Unable to contain her excitement, she grinned and nodded with palpable enthusiasm. "You are good at this. I think you deserve to try what you craft so well," she said.

Davee grinned and nodded. "Tonight I try," he said. "Only a small piece.

After the sun had moved from shining on her right side to above, they paused to rest against a rocky ledge. The rough stone pressed against Venka's back, a stark reminder of the harsh terrain they'd left behind. Their long walk had seen the end of the mountains and many hills as they approached a flat expanse. Scattered with smaller thickets of trees and wide-open grassland, she felt some relief having finally left that harsh terrain that had hurt her feet day after day. The soft rustling of grass in the breeze was a welcome change from the echo of their footsteps on stone.

Venka's nostrils flared, taking in the new scents. She felt most at home under the protective canopy of a jungle, but the marshes seemed familiar enough to the river's end that had been the Hollow Reed lands for generations. Here it felt strange; the swamps had no fish, and the animals were swift and preferred to travel in large herds. The air carried the musty scent of damp earth and wild grasses.

Her keen eyes caught movement in the distance. Venka had noticed some others of her kind, their color green and gray without visible stripes. They seemed to be a hunting party moving from the west and disappearing behind a small forest. Other tribes along the way had mentioned the Upright on this side of the mountain to be aloof and unwelcoming, but not a threat to travelers. Beyond them were tribes that were said to be suspicious of outsiders, perhaps even violent, while others had a reputation for male raiding and aggression.

Finding others of her kind always filled her with excitement. Visitors were fun and interesting, but for the first time, Venka did not relish meeting new people. Reluctantly, she glanced over at Davee, who simply sat and sipped on his water, unaware of the potential threat.

He sighed and said something.

"Hmm? I could not hear that," she said, giving him her full attention.

Davee shook his head, his hair ruffling in the wind. "I said in my tongue, I say the land is..." he brushed a hand over his face, searching for the right word. "Look good."

"Pretty? Beautiful?" she offered, smirking at the fact that he demonstrated with himself. Her eyes roamed over the landscape, taking in the vibrant contrast of the grass and sky. With a small nod she sighed, "Yes, I see the beauty here."

"Far from home," he said softly. "Very, very far from home..."

"Your home or mine?"

He looked over at her. "Both our homes," he replied before looking off in the distance again. "My home was cold, even the warm days had snow. We..." he paused and looked at her. "How do I say grow plants to eat?"

Venka cocked her head. "What do you mean 'grow plants'?"

"Keep plants to grow, the seeds," he replied. "Do the Upright People do this?"

She shook her head; the idea seemed completely alien to her. "How would you make the plant grow? How do you know what their spirits want?"

Davee leaned down and dug at the dirt, rolling it between his fingers and letting it fall to the ground between them. "Bad dirt, only grass grows here," he explained. Then he pointed to the distant trees. "Better dirt, bushes, trees, over there."

Venka's eyes fell to the spot where the dirt had fallen. How could dirt be good or bad? Dirt, to her, was simply there, and all the plants in the world came from it if their spirit was strong. Conditions and location had always determined where to find certain plants, which meant finding certain prey, but the very ground itself had never been considered. There was a certain logic to it, though, and she looked at him as he watched her think. Venka reached over and ruffled the fur on his head, feeling its softness beneath her claws.

"When we get to my village..." she trailed off and thought for a moment. Correcting herself, she continued, "When we get to our village, you must explain this magic to the Shaman."

Davee's sigh was barely audible over the rustle of grass. "This is not magic," he muttered. "I only have trouble explaining."

"Sometimes I think you do not like the idea of magic," she said with a scowl.

"I don't."

She waved his doubt away and pointed to the distant rocks. "That looks like a place where we can make camp. Save your shelter for another day."

"Our shelter," he corrected. "We are together."

Venka felt a stab of elation when he said that. Being alone for many, many days had quietly taken its toll on her, and she longed to range and hunt with someone else again. This wasn't the same as that, but just having company felt nice. She grinned at him with a slow nod.

"Yes, our shelter, so I say do not put my half up," she said. When he smiled, she couldn't help but giggle. "Will your half stay packed as well?" she asked.

He shook his head and stood up with a groan. "It doesn't work like that, Venka, so it has to stay packed," he explained, but he knew she was well aware already. "I like your idea, I can try your mushrooms."

Davee hadn't needed to do much to set up camp while she went and found a lone male tanchoka that had nearly leapt on top of her as it bounded across the rocks. The sudden appearance of the creature had sent her heart racing, adrenaline surging through her body. Running it down was effortlessly simple, and she snapped its neck with her powerful jaws even before they collapsed together; the sound of breaking bones echoing in the quiet landscape. The fortune of such a find filled her with profound glee, and she hummed a simple tune as she carefully clawed the hide off the carcass. With her hands bloody, she dressed it on the spot, tearing the body open from the hips to the neck with her powerful arms and strong grip.

Carefully, she attended to the entrails and bladder. As a reward for successfully breaking neither, she dug out the two orbs from between the legs, snapping them up into her mouth. The juicy, salty treats were reserved for the hunter who made the kill, and she purred with delight from the flavor, savoring the rich taste on her tongue. There was something else, though, and while removing the lungs, her eyes fell on it within the abdomen. Some livers were not safe to eat even for her, as the animals consumed deadly poisons as part of their diet, but these were not only safe but delectable. Humans, however, might become sick, and they were already going to experiment with one thing. How could they know which had made him sick if he ate both?

With this justification, Venka dove in without hesitation, her instincts overriding any lingering doubts.

Her tongue lapped at it before pulling it into her watering maw. She chewed and savored the velvet texture of the tanchoka's delicious liver, her tail wagging in the air behind her as she feasted. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the rich, earthy flavor of the organ. Soon, there was no more, and she came up for air, a pleased smirk crossing her lips dripping with blood. What she wanted to do next was devour the rest of him and sleep, but a huntress was only as good as what she brought back. So, she returned with it, and the intact pelt, the weight of her prize a satisfying burden.

Arriving at camp, the scent of her kill announced her presence before she was seen. Davee cooked a few large cuts without a single word about her appearance before she washed it away.

When the meal was ready, Venka sensed Davee's apprehension from his side of the fire as he nibbled a small portion before moving on to the known safety of the meat. The crackling of the fire and the sizzle of cooking meat filled the air. Armed with knowledge of its taste, he had somehow outdone the first time she tried his attempt at stirring the cubes and flakes in the fat, and she didn't pause for good manners as she devoured her large share. The rich, savory flavors danced on her tongue, each bite more satisfying than the last. Afterward, her belly visibly bulged out, at least as much as it could through her tight and powerful muscles, and she had to sit with her knees up and legs apart to relax comfortably.

"Good?" he asked as he chewed.

Venka grinned and trilled a happy response, the sound vibrating in her chest. "That was the best meal I have ever eaten, Davee," she purred.

"I made a lot as a reward for getting us through all of..." he trailed off and motioned to the southern direction, "what that was."

She chuckled. "Sweet Davee, you charm me with your words," she replied, giving him a lazy glance before closing her eyes. "A few males of my tribe could learn from you, I think."

"I'm only," he paused to a poorly hidden belch, "sorry... I'm only doing what I think is right."

"Hmmph! My words are even more true," she retorted. "These days we have spent together would have been much harder without you."

"They would've been easier without me too, Venka," he reminded.

Opening her eyes, she shook her head. "No, I do not think so. We move much slower than I would normally prefer, but having you and... all of this... is more than worth that trade. My people are safer because we are the hunted ones! Would they waste so much on just me? I think not."

"I am not this important," he replied, looking at her with mock doubt.

Venka laughed and laid her head against the rock. "They smell that you are male and maybe think we are trying to catch up to the rest," she replied, imagining the situation in her mind. "They know we do not let our males wander far, so where there is one there are bound to be more."

Davee nodded. "This makes sense, but I do not like to be... What's the word?"

"Bait?"

"Yes, bait," he mumbled before taking another bite. After chewing for a bit, he asked, "Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me whatever you like, Davee," she replied automatically. "I consider us to be friends."

"Now who charms," he laughed, but then his expression grew serious. "Where I come from, if you help someone without expecting anything back, you are owed two more over. I owe you two lives, Venka. I want you to understand I will pay you back someday."

A shiver ran down her spine as she watched the fire dancing in the reflection of his alien eyes. They seemed to glow, not just from the light, but with calculated purpose. Males were expected to be more clever than their females, the thinkers and considerers of the relationship, but he had something much deeper than that, something that she felt was a distinctly feminine quality. Davee had an unfathomable depth of reason and logic that she sometimes forgot about, but when he inevitably reminded her that it was there, she was drawn to him like a cold body toward a hearth. When he looked at her like that, she felt a girlish, primal excitement that stole the air from her chest. Venka looked away and breathed with a shake of her head.

"No, you only owe me one," she murmured. "You repaid the first, I would have stayed and fought at the camp if I did not have you to protect. I am fine with saying we are even, sweet Davee, if you are fine with simply traveling with me."

He said nothing. Instead, he stood up and walked over to her, sitting down next to her large figure and allowing her arm to pull him even closer. After resisting for a few moments, he laid his head on her shoulder and sighed, her claws automatically stroking the back of his head while she smiled at him.

"I like this," she said softly. "My people are very..." she looked off into the distance to think of the appropriate word, "let us say that my people enjoy touching a lot. Embraces, stroking your furs, being near you, it is not proper for a male and female to do this if not mated, but I will keep this secret for myself. I know you enjoy it too."

"I do not want to become a burden," he replied.

Venka laughed, the sound rich and full. "You forget, sweet Davee, that our first night together I held you in front of the fire to keep you safe and warm."

"I was asleep from cold sickness," he muttered, shifting slightly against her. "Of course I forgot, I was not awake."

"What is cold sickness?" she asked.

Davee shrugged. "I don't know enough of your words," he softly said, reaching out to pick up her opposite hand to idly play with her claws. "Cold sleep makes the body stop."

"What for?"

"Keeps the body alive for a long time. I do not know how long I slept, I only know that my friends did not live."

"None of the other hollow beds saved the one who slept inside," she sighed, remembering the red-haired female that was cold and still. "I noticed the magic torch above them shined red and then not, over and over, and this told me the sleeper would never wake. Yours was green."

"You're really smart, Venka," he said, looking up at her. "I like—" Davee groaned as he put his hands to his midsection.

Venka sat up and looked at him, immediately recognizing he was in more severe pain than he had let on. When his eyes met hers, she could see that he had been hiding a growing discomfort that had become something horrid. Finding his hard shell waterskin, she brought it to his lips and encouraged him to drink as she squatted in front of him, his skin starting to become moist. The acrid scent of illness began to fill the air.

"I think the mushrooms were a mistake," he said between quickened breaths.

Venka was beside herself with worry, thrust suddenly into a shamanistic role as Davee's body contorted in another awful retch that produced nothing—everything within him was already in a puddle by the fire. As she cradled him, his skin was slick and clammy, shivering as he entered another horrid spasm that seemed to last an eternity before he collapsed against her. Davee had stopped speaking to her and then stopped speaking entirely, mumbling incoherently, his eyes tracking invisible phantoms. She remembered a sickness like this from her youth and brewed tea from the gola flower to soothe his stabbing pains. She had seen a large patch outside, their pale petals gleaming in the moonlight.

Only much later, after several doses, did she realize that the tea might also be a poison.

Yet he seemed to improve, no longer vomiting. The moons had shifted in the sky, marking the passage of time. Venka still held him, but as the fire dwindled, she was drawn more and more to the comfort of their bed. By then, he had grown silent, too exhausted even to moan, and her own weariness began to overwhelm her. His skin had turned cool to the touch, so she stripped off his soaked clothes and placed his shuddering body on top of hers, hoping to share her warmth. The sound of his labored breathing filled the night air.

All she needed was to sleep for a little bit...

Something woke her.

The patter of raindrops on leaves reached her ears before she fully regained consciousness. She looked down at the body on top of her, relieved to see his chest still rising and falling beneath the blankets. Davee moaned something incoherent and tried to get up, but the sound of the rain drowned out his words.

A shimmering curtain of water separated the dry cave from the storm outside, and she felt a surge of satisfaction for suggesting they sleep under this natural shelter. In the distance, the grasslands seemed to be flooding, though she guessed it was just an illusion. As he stirred, she realized he was struggling to do something beneath the covers, and she helped them both up. Davee, still delirious, fumbled with the clothing protecting his modesty.

Whispering a prayer to the Goddess, she hoped he was not about to defecate. Warily, she guided him to the waterfall of rainwater, holding him upright as she helped pull the clothing down, averting her eyes. The stench of his urine hit her, overpowering even in the rain. Glancing at the stream, she saw it was darker than it should have been, almost as brown as her stripes, though she didn't know what that signified. The pallor of his wet skin, however, filled her with dread—the scent on his hide was one of death.

When he finished, she kept her eyes averted as she pulled the cloth back up and carried him back to their makeshift bed. He needed rest, but she knew he also needed nourishment. The tea had settled his belly, so perhaps it could help keep him alive, or at least bolster his strength. Strength came from meat, but she was already brewing more tea...

Venka's eyes fell on the hide. Cursing her luck, she stretched it between some rocks and poured fresh rainwater over the fat before tossing in the rocks to bring it to a foaming boil before throwing in the meat. Once she was satisfied that all the flavor and goodness had been extracted from the tanchoka cuts, she removed them and ate the bland chunks while the broth stewed.

Feeding him the contents of the makeshift pot was a challenge, but after many cups brought to his lips, he had consumed most of the remainder. Venka poured the rest down her throat with a sigh, the warm liquid soothing her parched throat.

She had one more task.

With the last of the meat smoked, Venka knew they could not rest any longer. The Low People were near, she could feel it, and there was only one way to move both him and all the things they needed for another camp. For now, she would not have her clever human to help, she would rely on her own skills to carry them both. As she squatted, staring out into the rain, her eyes flashed with predatory determination. She glanced at his exhausted face, stroked his head with her claws, and then dug through his pack to arm herself for the task ahead.

Ignoring the downpour, she set out for the nearest strand of trees, withdrawing the large blade he never seemed to use. The cold rain pelted her scales, but she barely noticed, focused entirely on her mission. Shaped like her own flint knife, it had a straight edge that ended in a sharp turn and curved slightly before coming to a point in line with the flat back edge. Covered in black paint, the handle was made of a material that scored under her claws but provided a good grip in her callused hands. When she found the first juvenile tree, one she did not recognize, she tested it by forcing her weight against it until it began to bend. As thick as Davee's wrist, she looked up the length and determined that she needed only this one for her project.

Venka stabbed at the bark as she would with a rock. Eventually, she whittled a hole into the stringy wood, then a full cut, until the tree began to sway with each firm stab. Placing a stone into the recess, she grabbed the tree and threw all her weight against it to pull up and over the cutting stone. When it came down with a small crunch, she let it bounce to the wet grass before repeating the process in the midsection. Perhaps a claw's width of the sun, fully hidden by the storm, had passed by the time she had finished creating two poles of equal length.

The knife proved excellent for stripping the bark. As she worked, the sappy smell of the wood filled her nostrils, exactly the kind of wood she needed, making a sly smirk cross her parted lips as she panted from the effort. Before heading back, she found a few saplings no thicker than the human's thumb and ripped them out of the ground with a muffled snap. Their little branches and leaves were useless, so she scoured them off her fistful of tiny trunks and looped them through her bag's strap twice, so they sat flat against her muscular back.

Gathering up the two poles and the remainder from the ground, she heaved them over her shoulder and walked back.

Davee was still asleep; to her relief, he was still breathing. She stripped her clothes, tossed them against a warm rock, and suspended the poles above the fire before settling her weight against them, letting her naked body dry next to the fire as the poles heated and became pliable. When she had the shape she wanted, she stuck the ends into the dirt and placed a rock there to keep them in place.

Staring down at her pile of materials, she mentally mapped out the task ahead before sighing and sitting down next to the male. Her eyes darted from him to the bent poles, which began to steam from the heat, their sap bubbling out with a menacing hiss and flowing to the ends. Venka stood up and used the exotic cooking pot that had almost killed the human, scouring it first with dirt and ash, to collect the bubbling sap after readjusting the poles to get a bend that was slightly curved and then sharp. Due to the heat, she had to use the very tips of her claws and only for small moments, but the task was soon complete.

Venka gathered the largest rocks she could find and arranged them before collecting the sticky, scalding hot poles and nudged the rocks to complete the bend and lock it into place. After that, she squatted next to the fire and relaxed, letting the warmth play over her bare scales as she stirred a stick into the reducing sap.

The steady rhythm of the rain outside and Davee's shallow breathing filled the cave as Venka settled in for the night, her mind already planning their next move.

Tomorrow, she thought as her eyes opened and looked at the human, tomorrow I will take you away from here.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NINE

For three days and four nights Venka carried Davee bundled tightly on the frame behind her, the straight ends of the pole worn smooth as the weight of him and the heavy pack pressed them into the ground. Leaving a trail that only an imbecile would fail to spot worried her, but the arrangement had allowed her a greater speed than walking together with Davee. Rest came easily; she simply lowered herself, draping her tail over the pack and beside him on the frame. They conversed sporadically when he wasn't sleeping or whittling at the wood she'd brought for repairs.

Their frequent rests and detours to procure more meat gradually faded into a familiar rhythm, echoing their days before the dreadful experiment. Eventually, the frame broke, and Davee walked by her side again, his spirits lifted and his steps lighter. Secretly, however, Venka felt a crushing weight greater than the heavy pack that kept her awake at night. Keeping it from him was a mistake, but her pride wouldn't allow her to speak of it..

At some point during the fifth day after their misadventure by the fire, his good mood vanished. Davee had said something as they crested the hill. Holding her hand up, she silenced him.

Her tongue sampled the air, her eyes wide. That scent could only mean one thing. Her heart quickened as she grasped his wrist, following her snaking tongue's lead. Davee mumbled something else, which she disregarded. Her feathers flared with greedy excitement as she sought out that earthy, moist aroma.

Stepping through the trees with her companion behind her, she gazed down at the steaming pool. A small stream of fresh water drained into it from the rocks above, and her tongue tasting the mist confirmed it was fresh. Dropping her pack and bag, she scrambled to tear off her clothing. Davee watched, stunned, as she stepped into the pool, trilling with perverse delight as the hot water splashed against her naked body.

She turned around and saw him standing there. A blush formed across her scales, but she ignored him and dived into the water before emerging on the far side with her back toward him.

"Well? Hurry up," she grumbled, her tail splashing water in his direction.

When she heard his clothes falling away, she smirked. The sound of another body slipping into the water drew a contented sigh as she sank neck-deep. Rolling onto her back, she observed him with his back toward her. They weren't mates, and this was entirely inappropriate, but she had already expressed to him a fondness and understanding that they shared. Venka decided to take it further and swam toward him, her hand on his thigh to guide him to sit.

"Do you like this?" she asked.

He chuckled nervously and answered, "I do, but where I come from it isn't common for males and females to do this together."

"We are breaking many, many rules right now," she chuckled. "As long as I do not look or touch, your modesty is safe, my honor intact. What I said to you five nights ago was true."

"What was that? That we're friends?" he asked, running his hands over his head. "I never had many of those."

A stab of mixed sorrow and affection caught her throat. Venka shifted closer, placing a hand on his back and watching him until he met her gaze.

When he finally did, she offered a soft smile and whispered, "You have at least one now."

"Thanks, Venka," he replied, his smile weak but genuine. "Can we be honest then? As friends?"

She nodded.

"Don't blame yourself for what happened, okay?" he said, his eyes searching hers. "I blame myself for giving in."

"You wouldn't have if I had shut up," she hissed, her mane flicking with irritation as she looked away. "You told me it was bad, you had instinct and I tricked you to ignore it."

Davee grumbled something before turning her snout to look at him. "Venka, you didn't trick me."

"However you wish to say it then," she said, rolling her eyes. "I failed you."

"Look at me, Venka," he said sharply, gripping her jaw. When she glared down at him, his expression softened as he continued, "I'll meet you halfway and that's it. This was our mistake together, okay? I won't talk to you anymore if you keep this up."

The words stung her. The proud huntress nodded, her frown deepening. "I'm sorry, Davee."

"No need for that," he answered, punctuating his words with a sharp sigh as he leaned back against a distant rock. "Let's just never, ever do that again."

"Agreed. I am thankful you walk again," Venka replied, sliding closer to him in the deeper water. Once settled, she rested her head against his shoulder. "I thought I lost you."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said, looking up at the sky. "Anyway, we have a long way to travel, right?"

"We do. Can you make the meat like I did?" she asked.

Davee looked at her. "With the smoke? Yes, we used to do that all the time when I was small."

Venka met his eyes, her own gleaming with curiosity. "Tell me," she said softly.

He glanced down, then away, his skin suddenly flushing. "Okay, I can do that," he said quickly. "I told you about keeping plants, and I made words about how not cold the cave was on the mountain, but I never told you about the animals we kept."

"How does someone keep an animal? Like a pet?" she asked as she looked across the water. "Animals go where they wish."

"Animals go where there is food and it's safe," the human corrected. "If you give them both, they stay, and if you put them in a... wall? I do not know if you have a word for a small wall, but if they have their needs met, they won't try to escape so much or at all."

"A fence, Davee," she corrected. "Your people live strange ways. Did you eat the animals?"

"Sometimes. We used these animals called cattle for... What is the word for water from the chest?" he asked.

Venka looked at him again. "What?"

With red cheeks, he motioned inappropriately toward her own breasts without looking.

"Oh! Milk, that is milk," she giggled before devolving into a throaty laugh.

"It's not that funny," he mumbled, chuckling a little. "Can I finish?"

"Yes, please," she said, still laughing. "Please, Davee, tell me everything."

He glanced up at her with a suspicious eye before saying, "We would get the milk," he paused to allow her giggle to subside, "and then we would send that to a place where they would turn the milk into other things. You remember what I gave you when you carried me?"

Venka's eyes widened. "Yes, Davee, I will never forget the chezkek for as long as I live," she replied quickly, her mane fluttering with excitement. "That was so delicious, I cannot believe I had not thought of it until now. When I tried it, I thought that perhaps it had milk in it."

"Only the cheese part of the word," he put slow emphasis on the foreign syllable, "after it... I can't describe that."

"Can you show me?"

He shook his head. "That takes many, many days in one place," he sighed. "What happens is the milk is allowed to rot in a specific way."

That was something she knew about. "Bitterfire," she said, remembering the taste. "If berries are left alone in a basket, they leak a juice that tastes bitter and burns, but it makes you feel good. Too good, I think."

"I think I know what you're talking about," the human answered. "I am surprised the Upright People know this."

Venka shrugged and explained, "Only the Shamans know how to make this. It is very hard to do. Before my birth, many, many years ago, too many years to count, the bitterfire was given to sacrifices so they would relax and feel no fear. When we stopped following the Old Ways, much of that magic was lost to us, forbidden."

"What are the Old Ways?" he asked.

That is a very complicated question, she thought. Venka dunked her head under the water and shook the dryness from her feathers as she thought about how she might answer, knowing that he knew none of their history. Much of what she wanted to tell him had context that was instinctual, natural, for a female of the Upright People. Even males of her kind did not understand why, simply that they must, and that was why the Old Ways had to be forgotten.

"Long ago, after the Goddess made this garden for us, there were no Upright, only animals," Venka began, smiling as she remembered her mother telling her the story. "One day a great huntress stood on her hind legs to reach prey in the tallest tree. When she found him and pulled him down to eat, she realized she was not crawling anymore. This surprised her so much that her prey fell, but he too stood up, and they became one. From her belly came the First Tribe. In those days, the tribe had everything and wanted nothing, but soon the forest became sick. There were too many people, the game was scarce, the rivers dry, and no berry or leaf remained; they had been eaten."

"So the tribe had to split up," he said.

Venka grinned and nodded before continuing, "They had to break up into many tribes, but none of the males wanted to leave. This was the only home they knew, and they were afraid; they did not understand the forest. But the females could see the truth. They gathered together and divided themselves up into nine tribes, but since there were so many females, they knew it would cause problems for them when they forgot the lessons of the First Tribe. To help them remember, they told the males of their plan and entrusted them with keeping the memories of the First Tribe strong and fresh.

"Each of the nine tribes set out in different directions and settled where they could walk no further. Nine temples were built, and one from each tribe became Shaman. When they climbed to the top of the temples, they saw that the lessons had already been forgotten. So the Shamans asked the Goddess for help. With Her hand, she guided the Upright People to one side of the village or the other, making them remember the sorrow they had caused to Her garden. Finally, she moved all the males to the center, reminding them of their task. This is how we had the Old Ways."

"I don't understand," he replied. "I guessed that males are supposed to stay in the village, but the rest of it doesn't make any sense."

Venka shrugged. "That’s why we made the New Way. Much like the First Tribe's lessons, those following the Old Ways forgot why we even have males, huntresses, carvers, or anyone else. Our people became sick like the forest, and when we put so many of our own down as sacrifices to Her, it made our tribes weak. There was nothing holy about those times; it was a lust for blood and pain and power, and the clans of the New Way left the Sick Ones behind."

"Sacrifices? People sacrifices?" he asked.

"Yes, some tribes still do, but only in very special times," she muttered, disapproving of the practice. "Not ours, if that is what you were really asking."

"That's a relief," he replied.

"Did I worry you, sweet Davee?" she laughed. "That I was bringing you all this way as an offering?"

"No!" he said, shoving her under the water. "I trust you."

She liked hearing that, so much so that her throat went red with a blush.

"There is something I would like to ask you, since you trust me," she began to say, moving to be in front of him. "When I found you... I am starting to think that was not your home."

His expression immediately dropped as he looked away. Venka felt a pang of remorse, guilt, for bringing it up, but this time it was deeper than the loss he had felt toward the others she could not save. Without thinking she had abused the bond they shared, Venka realized that she had gone too far by asking. She took him into her arms and held him tightly in the warm water until his tense body settled against her smooth scales.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "This pain is too soon for you, sweet Davee. My friend."

He shook his head and returned the embrace. "There's a lot about me I am ashamed of, Venka."

"I am here to listen and learn," she whispered before releasing him. "I promise you this."

At the edge of something, Davee seemed to step away from it and only gave her an appreciative smile before replying, "I know. I wouldn't have been honest with anyone else, but I know you understand what it's like."

Venka nodded slowly. "Your honor is safe with me, I will not speak of anything you wish to keep between us. Just know that I am eager to ease your burdens."

"You already do by carrying most of our stuff," he laughed before splashing her.

After their much-needed bath in the spring, Venka felt renewed, like a younger, more carefree version of herself that once swam in the sea and stalked simple game along the river. Before the walking, the climbing, a war she would lose, before it all when her life was simple and free of pain. Even the weight of her pack felt lighter, her soothed muscles carrying it with ease, and she noticed her human companion kept a quicker pace than before. Nothing could ruin this, she thought. They had come so far, and without any dangers for several days, she wondered if that had also helped her unwind in the pool.

Looking down at him, she grinned and ruffled the fur on his head.

Davee laughed. "What was that for?" he asked.

Venka pulled him close in a one-armed embrace as they walked. "We really did need that, didn't we?"

"I did. I'm glad we're together," he replied, laying his head against her side for a few steps. "I feel a lot better."

"This pleases me more than anything," Venka replied, her gaze returning to the horizon. "I've never had a friend like you before."

"You remind me of someone else. I think you would've liked her," he replied as he put his arm around her waist. "Strong, stubborn, but she looked after other people without thinking about it."

"Who was she?"

"A girl I knew from home, Svenna," he replied. Sighing to himself, he shook his head and added, "I haven't seen her in a very long time."

Venka nodded as she tried to imagine this girl, a human version of herself. The memory of the dead females where she found him surfaced before she pushed it out of her mind again. She didn't even know her own appearance aside from reflections in pools or against charred wood polished to a shine. Though she was unable to imagine it, she appreciated him thinking so highly of her to compare her to this girl from his past.

"I have never met anyone like you," she said softly, her eyes on the jagged hill ahead of them. "You're... very special, I think. Even among your own people."

"Unfortunately, that's true," he mumbled.

Venka looked down at him. "Why is this bad, Davee?"

"It would have been better for everyone if I wasn't different," he answered, not looking at her as he lived through some memory. After a moment he pushed against her, smiling, with a small shake of his head. "It doesn't matter now. I won't make those mistakes with you."

"I could find it in my heart to forgive you for many things, Davee," she said slowly, looking up again. "Perhaps it is because you are male, or maybe you are so soft, but I wish only to protect you. I have to remember that you come from a different people than my own."

Davee laughed. "That's very true," he replied.

"I like that you are different."

Feeling his arm tighten around her, Davee replied, "I actually like that you feel that way, Venka. It's nice to have someone looking after me for a change."

She nodded. "Being alone is difficult."

"I'm able to take care of myself, though," he added.

Venka threw her head back and laughed as she hugged him close, not believing a word of it. Among his own people, he probably had skills and value, but she doubted he would have survived even if he had not woken up sick. With no claws or teeth, he could not fight, and with such a small and frail body, he could not outlast the predators that lurked in the woods and grass. They had been very lucky so far that nothing had preyed upon them, and he was quite fortunate to have a companion so skilled at hunting. Simply chasing down some animals was enough, but what would he do if he caught one? Talk it to death?

Another wave of laughter bubbled out of her. When she looked down she saw him scowling. "I am sorry," she chuckled, running her claws over his head. "Davee, forgive me. I did not mean to laugh at you."

He stared ahead with a furrowed brow, refusing to talk.

"Oh, sweet Davee," she cooed, pushing against him with her hips. "I really am sorry, but did you forget so soon about the ranathawi?"

"We've had a tough time," he admitted, a small smirk crossing his lips as he finally looked at her. "I forgive you, but I am serious."

With forced sincerity across her face, she nodded and patted his head. "Of course, sweet Davee, I know you believe that."

"It's true," he said firmly.

Venka giggled and looked away, but when she hugged him close, she felt his own arm tighten around her and she smiled. As the silence wore on, her mind went back to her words about friendship, how he was a friend to her in a way that she did not know was possible. Friendship between tribe-sisters was sometimes complicated, between males and females even more so, but this was beyond that. Venka felt a genuine affection toward him, unconditional, and the fleeting moment when she felt it returned made everything they had endured worth it. Somehow, the proud huntress felt safer with him, but she could not explain why.

Davee leaned against her again.

Their pace was much quicker than usual as they walked in silence, the distant landmark she pointed them toward looming closer as the sun passed the width of two, then three claws in the sky. Catching the scent of smoked meat, her tongue flicked out as Davee rummaged through her pack, passing her a chunk before joining her again. Though she had no trouble providing for them both, he ate a lot less than she did, and she wondered if the animals further north were as plentiful as they had been thus far. Supporting his diet would be tough if she couldn't feed herself.

As they approached the peculiar hillside, they crested a small ridge and descended into a narrow canyon between the broken hill and a vine-choked cliff. With each step, the landscape became more rugged and alien with each step they took, and Venka could hear a distant sound that made an uneasy ripple across her feathered mane. She made no effort to smooth them, instead letting her tongue sample the air for any hint of danger. The only scents she detected were flora and the faint trail of some creature that had passed through the previous day. As Davee reached out to brush aside some vines, she grasped his pack, pulling the inquisitive human behind her while she advanced cautiously, her body tense and tail twitching with growing apprehension.

"Relax," he said quietly, his gaze sweeping the cliffs above them. "I think I know what this is."

Suddenly, she froze. Something unnatural caught her eye amidst the tangle of vegetation ahead. Davee nearly bumped into her, startled by her abrupt halt. She gestured silently, pointing with a claw toward a patch of dense moss clinging to what appeared to be an ancient stone structure. As they crept closer, she could make out an oddly smooth surface in the shadow.

A face peered back at her.

Her heart raced as she reached out, gently brushing aside the thick blanket of moss. The surface beneath was unlike anything she had ever encountered—cool, unyielding, and perfectly smooth. As more of it was revealed, she realized it was curved, almost like a shell or carapace. But this was no creature she recognized. Venka examined the unnaturally symmetrical visage and wondered, did someone carve this? Were these the bones of some creature?

Tracing her claws across the contour of the face, she gazed into the lightless eyes that seemed to stare back at her with an unsettling intensity. Her own curious reflection shifted as she tilted her head, but the eyes remained impassive, gazing straight ahead. She tasted the air before it, detecting nothing, not even a hint of blood—the shell long devoid of life. Venka suppressed a shudder, torn between fascination and an instinctive wariness of some incomprehensible beast that died long ago. Behind the moss, she glimpsed the rest of the figure, frozen in a forward-leaning posture within its verdant prison.

"What is it?" she asked, looking at the strange face.

"A robot from a very long time ago," Davee answered. When she looked at him with a curious fan of feathers, he added, "Maybe you won't understand this, but they were... things that sometimes looked and acted like people, but they were made to do work."

"Made?" she asked, her gaze returning to the strange face. "How?"

"Your language has no words I know to explain it," he sighed. With Venka having been distracted, he uncovered something else. "I need your strength, please."

Venka chuckled and approached the once hidden panel, gripping where he indicated and tugging with all of her might to pull it back. When that wasn't enough, he shoved his worn digging tool into the gap, and she used that for more leverage. Something within the hillside snapped, the echo low and deep, and the obstacle put up no more resistance to her superior strength. Davee snapped one of the glowing rods and threw it inside, the light reflecting off the dark surfaces. On the far wall, a symbol caught Venka's eye—one she recognized.

Gasping, she grabbed the startled male and pulled him away. Ignoring his protests, she dragged him back away from the defiled opening before its evil could find them.

He wrestled from her grip momentarily, but she reclaimed him and held him close. "We cannot enter!" she said firmly, her crest flared in alarm. "No, Davee!"

Davee met her gaze. "What is your problem, Venka?" he asked, confusion evident. "Why not?"

Why not? Venka bitterly chuckled; his innocence would have been sweet had the situation not been so dire.

"This is a tomb of the Sky People," she explained, her feathers rippling to announce her unease as she squatted down. Her eyes never left the open door. "They were a race of unspeakable evil, Davee. Horrible things that rained from the sky, we were afraid the great thunder and sky fire heralded their return, but so far I have seen none," she said.

"What?"

Venka glanced at him before scowling at his obvious confusion. "Davee, what else is there to say? Do you not know their marks?"

Davee exhaled heavily, still struggling against her grip. "What marks? What are you talking about? There hasn't been—"

"It doesn't matter," she growled, her eyes flashing as she glared at him, her snout close enough to his face to blow his fur aside. "This is an evil you cannot disturb. Listen to me, Davee, if you truly have no idea, if you have no understanding, then your people must have been either lucky or very foolish to not pass their story to you. I do not know if they took humans, but," she paused, her gaze drawn back to the dark opening, "I know they took us. Great beasts of stone, taller and stronger than any of us. They burned the sky away, and the Goddess could not stop the giants from stepping on everything we loved."

Within her arms he grew still, his head turned from her. The weight of some unspoken tragedy in his unrevealed past seemed to settle upon him, etching lines of grief across his face. Venka felt a pang of empathy as she watched him wrestle with some internal conflict, as if she had unknowingly touched upon a deep wound. She loosened her grip slightly as her sudden anger gave way to concern, reminding herself that he was not of her people, hoping that he could find it within himself to speak to her.

She studied his profile, noting the tension in his jaw and the distant look in his eyes as he teetered on the brink of a momentous decision. Whatever memories or knowledge her words had stirred clearly pained him; he avoided her concerned gaze as he contemplated his response. Venka's feathers rippled with a mix of sympathy and frustration, but she restrained herself from speaking harshly again.

"Did you truly not know of them yourself? What of your own people and their legends?" Venka asked.

She looked up at him. Conflict and pain twisted his expression into a frown. How had he not known? Her grip loosened further as she searched his eyes, her claws gently combing through his hair as she watched him wrestle with apprehension and shame.

"What is it, Davee?" she asked softly. "Were your people never taken? I am glad if that is so. I do not think a people as small as humans could survive monsters so large."

Davee could not look at her. Fully turning away from her, he seemed bothered and distant, his face wearing that same angry, wrathful expression he had when she rescued him.

"My people are..." he trailed off. After a hard moment, he looked up, his eyes aglow with something else, something firm that she did not like. Through his teeth, he finished, "Gone now, it doesn't matter."

"It matters! Your—"

"No, Venka," he loudly said, deliberately interrupting her. "They're gone, and I'm here now. Can you let me go?"

"Do you promise not to go in there?" she asked.

"No."

"Then no, I will—Davee!" she exclaimed, swiping after him as he fled. "Davee, no!"

"Wait outside," he said, waving his hand as she stood up to chase after him. She was too late. "There might be a few things in here we need, I'll be back in a short while," he said, stepping into the forbidden place.

Venka stared at the black void that had swallowed him.

She did not follow.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TEN

Before his return, she had made camp a significant distance away and assumed that he would have returned by then. The sun traversed the sky, casting long shadows across the landscape as Venka waited with growing unease. She paced, her claws leaving imprints in the soft earth, her feathers ruffling with each anxious glance toward the tomb's entrance. As the light began to fade, she debated whether to venture inside, her fear of the Sky People's evil warring with her concern for Davee. She hissed in frustration, tail lashing behind her. Somehow his "short while" turned into entire claws of daylight.

Just as she steeled herself to enter the tomb, a shuffling sound preceded Davee's emergence. He stumbled out, laden with strange objects, his face a mix of excitement and exhaustion. Venka's relief quickly turned to anger as she saw the artifacts he carried. Her feathers flared, a low growl building in her throat as she realized what he had done. 

Without a word, she turned and stalked away and did not help him move any of the evil artifacts he had taken from that awful place. Her silence spoke volumes, the tension between them palpable in the cool evening air. Looking back, she saw him standing there with a confused, wounded frown as she left him to hobble along by himself. She didn't want to look at him again, and when the loud racket of his return to camp grew unbearable she bared her teeth and kept her eyes on the stars in a silent prayer for forgiveness. Many of her people had probably done the same back when those monsters descended upon them, but the Goddess could not protect them all.

Venka was both afraid and disgusted, but he seemed entirely unbothered by the sacrilegious act he had committed. Furious, she had to quietly remind herself that they were different people, but the edge of her indignation had severed forgiveness from her heart.

When he looked up at Venka she was furiously glaring at him. Davee foolishly shook his head—as if she were somehow wrong!

"This is a terrible thing you have done," she growled. "You bring misfortune to us both."

With an exasperated huff he shook his head again. "I just took things we could use like things that we lost or were ruined. Nothing else."

"We do not need any of this!" Venka snarled, not hiding her feelings anymore. "Our camp is a safe place, I did not think I needed to explain this to you, but perhaps I was foolish to imagine someone so soft could understand. Even the smallest child knows not—"

He shouted at her.

Venka wound back with a flared mane of feathers as she replied, "Do not act like I am somehow wrong for being concerned about your foolishness! This magic you play with is powerful."

"It's not magic, Venka! Stop saying everything is magic!" Davee yelled. He banged the Sky People objects together for emphasis. "Nothing there, see? It's done. They are done. They are not coming back to this world, there is nothing here except not advanced people and old garbage."

"Not advanced? Do you mean savages?" she asked with a violent edge to her voice. "Do you mean the Upright People, Davee?"

"Yes!" he shouted. "You! You are savages to th—"

She snarled at his hurtful words and crossed the distance between them in a flash, her feathers flared in a challenge as she towered over him with her face nearly touching his. Restraining herself, she kept her claws flexing at her sides, the slits of her emerald eyes wide as she stared him into submission. Shock and concern had contorted his features into something that was less beautiful than yesterday; he leaned away from her as the low growl left her throat.

"Know this, human," her teeth pulled back as her tongue flicked out to taste his fear, "this savage before you saved your life. Carried you, held you close to her breast to keep you warm like a mother for a baby. You may think you can tame these things, but," she poked his scalp with a painful clawprick, "that mind of yours does not know everything."

He gave a furious glare in her direction, betraying the undercurrent of defiant rage he had reigned back, but he did not look at her. He did not challenge her. Satisfied she had made her point, the huntress stepped away and sat down again with a sharp exhale as she tried to will herself into calmness.

After a few tense moments of her claws tapping against a rock, her feathers flicking as she thought a hundred mean things to say, she finally muttered, "We should sleep apart tonight."

"I'll be out here," the human quietly replied. "I want to be alone."

Venka huffed and got up, looking back for a moment before she slid into the shelter. Without him in there she could sleep as she had always preferred, and after a few tugs from her claws both articles of clothing fell to the floor before closing the flap behind her. Once under the strange blankets she found that her anger had not abated. What a fool, she thought. Perhaps the last survivor of his kind and he invites evil into their camp? Venka had never known him to be so reckless, he had always shown a deference toward her skill and knowledge. Their relationship was quite clear to her up until today: he follows and tends camp, she leads and protect them.

Davee had broken their unspoken covenant and then had the gall to call her primitive. Were he a female she would have cut that pretty hide in a dozen ways, her mind flickering with images of the fight as she made a fist, but she could not sate the rage she felt. Even stepping outside to argue some more wouldn't help, she knew that. Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow we shall revisit this.

Opening her eyes, she could smell the morning meal and glanced over at the empty spot where his bed should have been. Memory of their argument stepped to the front of her mind and she sighed. Sitting up, she covered her breasts before awkwardly wiggling herself into the loincloth. Once clothed, she tested both garments with an experimental tug before opening the flap and stepping out. Davee was there and they did not share so much as a glance, she simply walked into the nearby woods. With the morning relief out of the way she made to return to camp, but before she stood up she had a sudden, deep sense that something was watching her.

Venka's eyes scanned for threats until she saw a distant shape in the grass. Tightening her loincloth, she decided if she should run or fight, but her gaze darted side to side looking for other threats. Prey ran from a single threat, she had been the dark shape herself many times.

Scent of food caught her nose, her tongue tasting it on the air, Venka backed slowly toward camp until she was some distance from the dark stand of trees.

Sitting back down at camp, she glanced up and saw that he had made her a plate of the mushrooms and some of their fresh meat. All the usual effort was evident, the herbs he used, the care with which he prepared and fried everything, but the presentation was just as enticing as that meal he made to reward her for getting them over the mountain. Venka realized that this was his apology, but she was not so ready to forgive him yet and chose to savor every bite.

"I hope you like it, I tried my best," he said quietly without looking up.

Venka nodded and simply replied, "It's good."

"Better than usual?"

Choosing to say nothing, she simply took another bite and flicked her gaze toward him before looking off into the distance. Foolish, ignorant male, she thought. 

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the sounds of their eating and the gentle tinkling of the horrid sin under his curious fingers. Venka's mind raced, replaying the events of the previous day. With each passing moment, her anger simmered, threatening to boil over. Venka's tail twitched irritably as she finished her meal, her eyes constantly darting to the pile of artifacts Davee had brought back; her mind racing with unspoken accusations.

Davee cleared his throat, clearly about to speak, but Venka raised a claw to silence him. She wasn't ready to hear his excuses or explanations. Obviously annoyed, Davee began sorting through things he had taken, his excitement palpable as he examined each item. The sight of him handling the Sky People's objects with such reverence made her stomach churn.

Finally he sighed abruptly and looked at her expectantly. Venka's feathers bristled in anticipation, her muscles tensed as she waited in cold fury for the first words.

"Venka, I think we should talk about yesterday. I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?" Venka interrupted, her voice sweetened by bitter sarcasm. "Didn't mean to desecrate the forbidden? Didn't mean to bring evil into our camp?"

"I know you're upset," he began, his voice cautious, but his face flushed with frustration. "You don't understand. These aren't evil, they're tools."

"Tools," she scoffed.

"They are, just like..." he paused, her eyes darted to him to catch his chest lurch as if he choked on the next word. Recovering, he quickly said, "They could help us survive."

With that her patience snapped like a brittle branch; claws digging into the earth as she struggled to contain her wrath.

"Survive?" Venka hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "Those things nearly wiped out my people. How dare you suggest they could help us."

Davee's eyes widened, a mix of shock and frustration evident on his face as he held up his hands. "You don't understand what these things are capable of," he insisted, his voice rising. "They're not evil, they're just..." he finished his point by babbling foreign nonsense.

Venka's feathers bristled at the unfamiliar word. "Tek... Teknowa..." she mumbled, her ire rapidly growing until it boiled over. "What is this?! Is that what you call the weapons that slaughtered my people?"

"It wasn't meant for that," Davee argued. "Nothing here is for that, there are no weapons—"

Venka slammed her fist down and snarled, nearly roared, at him with her teeth bared and mane alight with the rage that had simmered all night.

"I hate them!" the huntress growled, each word pouring malice into the air. "I would kill every last one of them if I could! Do you understand me?! They made us like pets before the Goddess! Humiliated and broke us! Took us like..." she shuddered with incomprehensible disgust, "Like they were a tribe raiding for fresh boys!"

She stood up and shuddered again, her jaw tight as she looked down at him and his... tools.

Through her clenched teeth Venka growled, "If I had one before me now I would gut her belly and smash her eggs in her," she spoke with a low and deadly voice, "I would savor the pain and shame as the light left her eyes and I would leave her body to rot like a pest. A thing to be discarded."

Venka wanted to destroy something.

"I'd kill every last one if I could," she hissed. "I would take my time if I had one in front of me," her claws sank into her palm as she made a fist, her eyes on the fresh blood. "I'd skin them alive, all of them. I'd claw the fruit off their males and force it down the throats of their proudest warriors if I got such a chance."

Davee froze.

"Was that too much for you to hear, Davee?" she muttered with a spiteful glance. "Do you think I am alone in this hatred?"

"No, I don't," he replied, his jaw tense. "I believe you."

Sympathy tugged at her rage, but only enough to take her out of wicked fantasy that had already crawled from her throat. Males weren't supposed to hear such awful things, she regretted the entire subject and her part in making it worse with barbaric vulgarity. Venka was still furious and she grit her teeth as she tried to consider his position of ignorance. These held no sway over his mind, he was too gentle to fear them, but that did not change what had been done already.

"What should I say to you, Davee?" she groaned as she began to pace. "You in your nest of evil, surrounded by their wicked things."

"They're just—"

"Stop!" Venka shouted at him with a sharp point of her claw. "Enough with these excuses! You have made your claims, you have said what you wanted to say, but it does not change what I know to be wrong. I will speak of this no more, Davee, you must choose."

He looked shocked, almost as shocked as the jolt of panic that cut through her after giving the ultimatum the power of spoken word.

Venka's heart raced, a mix of fury and fear coursing through her veins. She hadn't meant to issue such a drastic demand, but the words had tumbled out before she could stop them. She felt betrayed, her trust in Davee shaken to its core. But beneath the anger lay a deeper emotion—disappointment. She had thought they were growing closer, learning to understand each other, but now it felt like they were worlds apart. Despite their differences she had grown fond of him, but that affection was a burden as thought of continuing alone filled her with a deep, aching dread.

"Choose what?" he asked, his voice tight.

Panic surged through Venka as she realized the weight of her words. Part of her yearned to take it back, to find a compromise, but the sight of everything he had disturbed scattered around him made her blood boil. The thought of losing Davee sent a pang of anguish through her chest, but her pride and deeply ingrained beliefs held her firm.

Folding her arms, Venka said, "Choose either these things you have taken," her lips tightened as she braced herself and inhaled, "or you can choose me. I will not walk with you anymore if you have them."

He sat down in obvious shock, but as the moment dragged out she could see his mind working. Sometimes the Shaman would speak of energy, of a radiance from a person, when they were in need of spiritual guidance or had some emotion that dominated their every action and even into their dreams. Looking at him there, she could almost see the budding agony cloud the air around him as he decided. She began to worry that he would choose poorly, that he would choose something that would make her feel fully the sadness and regret that threatened to constrict her soul and squeeze all the joy from her life.

Venka's fears became real when she saw his jaw set.

Looking up at her with an immovable resolve in his eyes he shook his head. "No, Venka, I won't choose. You can't make me," he replied, his voice matching the ice in his glare. "If you want to leave me, fine, I am not strong enough to stop you and I wouldn't even if I could. This is going to be your choice."

Her lip quivered before she looked away. "Fine!" she snarled, choosing anger over sadness. "Fine, I'll go then! Enjoy your so-called tools, Davee!"

Turning away from him, she began to gather up only what she needed to immediately leave. Venka chose to keep the heavy pack, but most of the contents that would normally be stuffed inside she considered his things and simply left them inside their shared shelter. That was his too. Venka needed little, but if he cared so much for trinkets than he could figure out how to carry all of the miscellaneous nonsense on his own. A majority of the food was left behind with him, she had no need nor desire to starve him, but she kept the spare waterskin.

Davee looked at her as she left, but she did not pay him any attention.

With her snout high and feathers proud, she set off.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she marched through the tall grass. With no one around to see her sobbing, she felt free to let them flow freely, her eyes burning as she walked alone. The ache in her chest felt like a physical wound, and more than once she found herself stopping, looking back the way she had come.

After much of the day had been spent going in one direction she was shocked to discover that he had actually broken camp and left the hillside. When he had done that was impossible to say, but part of her wanted to believe that he was trailing along after her like a lost child. Had she left a strong enough trail by simply walking through the grass? Venka recalled the small creek she had stopped at and washed herself, she had walked along it before crossing up the other side of the hill... He wouldn't be able to follow.

Venka planned all the ways that she could save time in finding him, tracking him would've been impossible after a strong rain. Then something, some nagging part of her mind, told her to stop and then she remembered his last words to her.

This is going to be your choice.

Falling to her knees, the tears started to come again and she held herself tightly as she battled the wave of emotions. No matter how she felt, she had to return to her people. Venka had to keep going.

Several attempts to cease the tears and focus on her path ahead were necessary before she could stand up and dry her eyes.

Venka's claws dug into the earth with each step, her determination fueled by a mixture of rage and sorrow. The weight of her decision pressed down upon her, threatening to crush her spirit. She found herself constantly looking over her shoulder to see Davee's familiar silhouette—more than she wanted to admit—following in her wake. Instead, the landscape behind her remained empty, save for the swaying grass and distant hills.

But pride and hurt drove her forward, away from him, she had expected him to pick her. Even the cheerful warmth of the sun on the surprisingly clear day could not soothe her, its heat seeming to instead mock her misery, her mind kept circling back to the argument, to Davee's stubborn refusal to choose. The day stretched endlessly before her, each step carrying her further from the only companion she'd known in this strange journey. Venka's normally keen senses were so dulled that she missed an opportunity to feast, the huntress screamed in frustration as the juvenile tanchoka bounded away bleating a warning.

The sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the grassy plains. She had left to protect herself, to uphold her beliefs, but with each passing hour, the victory felt increasingly hollow. A gnawing emptiness didn't feel like much of a win, she found herself considering how to find him again. As she settled onto the hard ground, she couldn't help but long for the comfort of their shared shelter, the warmth of Davee's presence beside her.

As twilight settled over the land, Venka made camp alone for the first time since meeting Davee. The gentle whisper of the wind through the grass mocked her without his noise there to keep it away. Far away the distant cries of nocturnal creatures felt like accusations. Venka's mind raced, replaying the argument over and over, searching for words left unsaid; a path she could have taken had their argument gone differently.

She could've sworn she heard him in the distance that night and her gut instinct was to run to him, but when she turned around in the darkness she saw no fire. Had he not known how to get wood? Did he need her? When her body sprawled out on the ground the cold was unbearable, how she had endured it before meeting him was a mystery. Sleep was short, fitful, and unsatisfying.

As the second day of her solitary journey began, Venka found herself listening for sounds that weren't there: the rustle of Davee following behind her, a clatter of his exotic things dangling from his pack, his voice... How she missed his voice. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the grass and the occasional animal cry. He would've asked about that, she thought. She had grown accustomed to his constant presence, those questions, even the occasional comment in his own language—only a painful void remained.

Venka tried to distract herself by focusing on her surroundings; a game trail, the marks of claws against a rock, a small spring of water but even these practical concerns couldn't fully occupy her troubled mind.

As the sun climbed higher, Venka said, "Gola flowers, I used these to..."

She trailed off.

The sound of her own voice, raspy from disuse, startled her. A fantasy of a quick question aimed at the hanging end of the sentence.

Used these to what, Venka?

His specter wasn't done.

Did you use them to heal me? Nurse me back to health when you thought you killed me? You almost did, you know that.

She fell silent, the weight of her decision pressing down upon her again and took all of her focus. Venka had normally been so adept at keeping unemotional as she had been taught by her mother and the other huntresses, it was the first secret she had kept from her father. Males didn't understand the danger of losing one's own mind to rage or sorrow or even love, they simply did not have the physical strength to destroy everything they cared about in a flash of passion.

Before the Low People came she had no cause to let go and become the animal within, but she began to wonder if she had forgotten how to truly walk Upright.

Perhaps it was best if he wasn't around?

Venka shook her head at the thought. A cool breeze carried the scent of rain, and Venka's feathers ruffled instinctively. They had been warmed by the merciless sun as she trudged onward in the early part of the day, the heat they had gathered pricked the fine scales of her scalp with an unpleasant sensation.

A flock of birds took flight overhead, their leathery wings beating a rhythmic cadence against the sky. Venka watched them soar and wished she had seen them sooner. Unfortunately, her mind was in mutiny and now only seemed to seek out any trace of Davee's presence.

The sun beat down mercilessly as Venka trudged onward. His quiet wonder at the world around them had been infectious. How had she not noticed it earlier? Memory of him simply looking off into the distance and admiring the sight, or looking up at the sky with a reserved and solemn face, seeped into the front of her mind as she stared at the dirt below. Even that had been something only he regarded as interesting, she recalled the conversation about tending to plants and the value of the soil. Venka wondered if the path she walked was good dirt or bad dirt.

Not good enough, probably, she concluded. This was only preferred by the sharp blades of grass.

A valuable insight she would take back to the Shaman. His story was also important; she had to tell her tribe about the strange male that had a habit of bringing a fresh perspective to things she had long taken for granted. Of course, the most important news would be Venka's trickery; the ruse against the Low People would be well-received. As she thought of the relief the rain would bring, she realized that their trail would be much more difficult to follow. Happily, she turned to tell him the good news, knowing he had been confused by her reaction to being hunted.

Nothing was there; no smile, no blue eyes, not even the whisper of a voice where there ought to be one.

Her cruel mind fixed that.

That's great, Venka! Maybe they'll chase me instead! Since they're tracking my scent and not yours.

Venka snarled at the empty space, her anger turning inward. Stupid girl, she berated herself. How could you ruin everything like this? He was just one male. Couldn’t you have kept him in your arms? Or gone after him?

No, she answered herself. No, I couldn’t have. I should have never said what I said.

As midday approached, Venka’s tongue flicked, catching the taste of water. She followed it to a small stream, clear and inviting. But as she knelt to drink, her reflection in the rippling water startled her. The face that stared back seemed older, wearier than she remembered.

She wondered if Davee would recognize her if their paths crossed again.

Dipping her lips, she pulled in the sweet liquid and sated a thirst that had grown while she had been distracted by the incessant thoughts of her lost companion. Hunger made itself known as she felt the cold splash inside her stomach and she looked up at the surface while she drank. Still shallow and small, the source of the stream seemed to be further up in the rocky hills off to her left which meant no fish. Food could wait, she finally had something else to feel and she clung to the discomfort of an empty belly as she continued her journey.

The afternoon stretched on endlessly, Venka stopped blotting the sun's crawl across the sky with her claws and accepted that the day would drag on. Nothing could be done about it and her pace slowed as fatigue set in, but she chose not to rest. Only a sharp change in the breeze, now coming in from her right, brought relief.

After countless strides through the sharp grass the heat of the day began to wane, but as she looked off into the distance the air still danced off the distant hills.

Venka realized that she had forgotten to fill the waterskin, her teeth gritting as she marched and the fantasy of having another drink somewhere up ahead kept her busy. Maybe they... she... could eat something. Something foraged, at least, the animals seemed to be avoiding the wilting melancholy that clouded around her. She considered making camp, but the thought of another night alone spurred her onward. Somewhere with a cave, where she could hide and not have to worry about animals or making a fire.

It was late afternoon when an unfamiliar sound caught her attention.

Venka froze, her feathers bristling as she strained to hear. A throaty shout that rolled over the hills as it echoed, the wind carrying it just a little further.

When the wind shifted she could hear it again, coming from the spot up ahead. Venka picked up the pace and wondered who that could be—almost certainly not Davee—but hope spurned her on into a hurried jog toward the shouting. If not him, then someone, and they were in obvious distress. Memories of conversations moons ago about the raiders in these parts flashed through her mind. Perhaps the hunting party had sisters in trouble. Then, inevitably, Venka's imagination taunted her with images of Davee being dragged away, screaming into the night.

She would solve this problem and backtrack; she couldn’t leave him alone. Not now.

There it was again, she thought.

Without conscious thought, Venka found herself running toward the sound. Her powerful legs carried her swiftly through the grass, her heart pounding with fear and anticipation. As she drew closer, she could hear snarls, the clash of rocks. Venka scanned for a landmark and found only a solitary, stubborn tree growing from the rocks. Tossing her heavy pack against it, she leaned into a full sprint, drawing in the fresh air scented by recent rains. She huffed the fresh air brought by the torrential rains as she weaved between the rocks and up the slight incline. Between a small cliff and a steep ridge was an opening, well-traveled, and she made for it as fast as she could.

She burst from the pass into a small, grassy clearing. The sight that greeted her made her blood run cold.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Three creatures were circling a spire of rock, overgrown with moss and vines, that obviously had someone hiding at the top. Venka couldn’t smell them—her tongue flicked out as she slid to a halt—but animals did not shout and they certainly did not hurl stones.

The creatures stared at her. Venka felt the weight of their predatory eyes, her chest tightening under the pressure.

With hackles raised, they slinked forward through the grass, growling low. Venka had no name for these creatures, but they were twisted echoes of her own kind—or perhaps of the Low People—stretched out into something feral. Their heads were tall and angular, with eyes like her own, expressive and able to look forward, and at the end of their snouts, they had a sharp beak where their nose should've been. Camouflaged by the grass, they would’ve been nearly invisible; they were the exact color and shade of green. Dark spines running along their heads and down their backs resembled her own feathers as they flexed them in aggressive displays. They currently walked on all fours, but she could see that their hind legs were much, much larger and probably built to chase down prey with merciless efficiency.

One thing they did not have was size. They were thin creatures, and these ones looked gaunt and starved—a condition that made them very dangerous. Even so, Venka likely weighed more than five of them combined.

As one, they turned to her, hissing a challenge that made her feathers stand on end. Venka did not hesitate.

Throwing her head back, she came forward and drove her claws into the dirt with a primal roar.

As the sound reverberated off the cliffs, her opponents faltered for a moment, clearly not expecting such fury from a larger, fiercer version of themselves to be so ready to fight back. Hesitation broke an immutable law of the wild; it was weakness manifest, and theirs was ripe to exploit. On instinct, she charged forward, claws extended, her feathered mane fully flared as she bore down on the largest one. Venka could see the shift in their eyes, the moment they realized this new threat outweighed the potential meal trapped on the rock.

Hunger quickly overcame caution. The largest of the three, scales bearing the scars of past battles, lunged at Venka with startling speed. Expecting to collide, it surprised her by jumping with its sharp talons out.

Venka pivoted and twisted herself past the creature, snarling as she swiped for it and found nothing. The other two darted forward, spreading out to flank her. Venka’s gaze flicked between them as she circled, every muscle strained and taut as she readied to be pounced.

Behind her, the smallest lunged, aiming for her unguarded leg with an open maw. Venka saw this and struck with her tail, the impact sending it bouncing through the grass. Again, the largest rushed forth, snarling as it went for her throat, but she swiped at it to drive it back.

As she drove it back, the smallest darted in and snapped for her with a clatter of its jaws, but the experienced huntress twisted and struck back with claw. She bolted forward and swiped again, the fight traveling that way as the other two closed the distance. Venka saw this, turned, and managed to catch the largest in the face with a ferocious swipe that sent it reeling back. A sense of accomplishment coursed through her, and a smirk turned her lips as it hissed and retreated.

More strikes followed. Venka pushed the beast onto the defensive as she growled in delight and pursued, but he didn't rout. A controlled retreat left her open, and she defended herself from the smallest with a sharp kick to the face.

A swipe across her thigh left burning lines that trickled red.

Venka backed off, glancing at the wound as they circled her. Not deep, not deadly—but it fueled her rage. She charged at the largest, agony goading her on in her pursuit to kill. Twisting her muscular form, she swiped once for it with her claws and brought her jaws together with a resounding crack. Distracted by her assault, she didn't notice the little one coming in again, and Venka backed up to face them both.

A beak snapped over her shoulder and she screamed—roared—from the explosion of pain. With fire in her green eyes, she threw herself back on top of its small body, the beast letting go as it bleated in alarm.

Before she could strike, the other two seized the opportunity, charging from opposite sides. Venka dropped low, allowing the smallest to sail over her head. As it passed, she grabbed its tail, using the momentum and her superior mass to swing and slam it into its packmate. The collision sent them tumbling, but they recovered quickly, more enraged than ever. The crushed one struggled to its feet, limping away and clearly dazed.

Venka didn't give it time to recover. She reached out and sank her claws into the tail. The predator screamed as it was dragged back, the wet smack of her claw to meat ending the noise. Blood sprayed from the throat as it tried to run, red bubbles and froth pouring out as the body flailed behind her. With one down, she turned to face the others as murderous rage flashed in her emerald eyes.

They snarled and hissed at her from both sides, snapping their jaws. Venka moved back as her lips curled with a low growl.

When the smallest of the three bolted in, she reacted instantly, turning to face the tenacious threat, but he surprised her by darting back. With widened eyes, Venka cranked her muscular frame to face the real threat, a surge of astonishment blasting across her nerves as the largest was already mid-pounce with open jaws and readied claws.

Using all of her strength and agility, she planted the claws of her toes into the ground and pushed off, a hand stretching out to catch the beast square in the throat as he came down. When her scales met his, she buckled, his mass forcing her to a knee as she held him aloft as his tail swung around. Venka caught that too, growling as she flexed her claws and watched him thrash in her grip. Rage overwhelmed her as she watched him struggle; she wanted to see him bleed between her fingers.

Pain snapped her out of it.

She screamed in fury as he broke free, and with a hateful glare, she cracked the small one over the head with the tip of her tail. Across her lower back he had left deep gashes; she couldn't see them, and she didn't have time to try as the largest opponent pounced on her and knocked her back.

Venka held him at arm's length by his chest, digging her claws into his ribs as he leaned over and snapped for her neck with his jaws. A foot came down and pinned her arm, claws curling around it for purchase as it dropped down. Their tails thrashed wildly as she brought her feet up to scratch at it, the other foot landing on her groin before pinning her wounded thigh.

Growling, she kicked it back and turned her focus on the one on top. As it snapped, she waited for the right moment to strike.

All in a flash she her hand over the beak, and her own maw was wide as she pulled it down. Before it could reverse effort, her teeth found purchase, and she bit with all her might.

Pain seared through her head as the spines on his back dug into her mouth. She felt them flex and quiver as her teeth bit between bone and sinew. A muted pop ended his efforts, the body going limp as the neck snapped, and Venka flung the corpse aside.

Rolling to all fours, the huntress locked eyes with the last one.

Her tongue fondled the spines in her mouth, forcing them free from the soft flesh, and she spat the bundle out; never taking her eyes off the prey. They stood alone, their gazes meeting as the creature hesitated. Venka’s eyes burned with the hunger for another kill. She inhaled deeply, then wound back and bellowed a murderous roar at the scared little beast.

The little monster cried out and bolted for the trees.

Venka pursued her target to the edge of the clearing, the lust of a chase overpowering her as she roared again. The prowling huntress could hear it crashing through the grass and bushes as it fled.

At the wall of rock it turned to face her, but she crashed into it with all her mass. They locked together in a whirlwind of slashing claws and snapping teeth, the beak a feather's width from her throat as she held the creature back with a bleeding arm. Falling backward, they rolled along the ground as she fought to stay on top, but Venka felt her strength waning from exertion, the blood loss from her wounds both taking its toll. When it bit on her arm, she clamped her jaws over its snout.

A crunch of bone echoed through Venka's head as the creature squealed and thrashed in her clenched maw. But this was a fight to the death, and her patience was gone. Watching it from her one eye, she could feel her prey's teeth coming loose, popping free as she crushed the skull until the structure could bear no more. With a loud pop, it collapsed, the rush of blood into her mouth creamy with the taste of brain. Its death throes were violent, but brief, and as its struggles ceased, she let go and fell back—her chest heaving with exertion.

Silence.

As quickly as it began, it was over.

Only ragged breathing defied the tyranny of nothing.

Off in the distance, she heard a rock tumble.

Rising to her feet, Venka returned to the natural pillar, her gaze lifting as another stone was cast from its peak.

"They're gone!" she called out, her voice firm against the quiet. "Their blood will attract more—come down!"

Her blood would too. When she received no answer, her feathers raised with immediate curiosity, but then she considered the alternative: injury. Venka scowled and began to scale the pillar, testing her claws against the chalky rock before scaling up the side. Pain nipped and gnawed at the edges of her nerves, but she steeled herself and persevered toward the top. A seasoned climber, she chose a gentler path around the side and glimpsed something over her shoulder—a gathering of sibling pillars stretching toward the cliff. On one, a shiny object caught the light, and Venka made a note to investigate it.

First, she thought, I must save this one. I came this far; I shall not fail another.

As she crested the edge, the flutter of feathers greeted her, and a howling head strained against bonds, lashed down over a nest of sticks and tiny bones. After a moment, it snapped at her, defending its brood, and in doing so one of the rocks came free and tumbled to the ground below.

Venka snatched up the unfamiliar animal in her fist, holding it aloft to inspect the cordage. Memory of that style flickered forth, reminding her of Davee's feet, his boots, the cordage to keep them tight against his foot was of that style.

As the creature thrashed and flapped its wings in vain, she clung to the rock and tried to parse through the events. Davee had remained behind, she had moved ahead, and then kept moving further still at her own pace instead of his, which should've put her so much further ahead. These were his things, though, and unless there were other humans about, something strange had happened. Pressing her snout to it was useless, as was tasting it, and her arm was beginning to feel numb.

Releasing her fist, she began her crawl down while her eyes tracked the livid beast, only relaxing after dropping out of sight.

While climbing down, the nesting animal bellowed a sound that was exactly like a shout. Venka shook her head and took a different, more direct, path to the ground that crossed over some vines. A curious sight greeted her, and she cocked her head to look at the blue rag of a familiar, yet alien, fabric.

Leaning forward, she inhaled, and the scent of him rolled into her mind. Fear, pain, apprehension... Venka recognized the emotions; they were so foreign and all so familiar, and the unmistakable maleness unique in a small way to the creature she knew as Davee. A sharp longing for him stabbed her in the chest as she climbed, her own fears beginning to form answers to the question of how and why he had been there. Dark and painful thoughts twisted the blade.

Either he had somehow passed her in the night, or someone had taken him. Carried him away.

Stolen him.

Venka felt a sinking feeling as she climbed down, her body quivering with growing terror.

Bravery came easily for her, as naturally as any other female, but it had always been a response to an external threat. Instinct drove her to fight, to conquer, to kill, but it had no guidance for the huntress as her shivering arms struggled to hold the rocks. This fear she felt in her gut, that strangled her lungs and clenched her heart, it was a threat that shook her confidence and resolve. Venka began to understand that she might have made a mistake, one that could not be so easily corrected. With no enemy to fight, she could not kill, and with the nebulous absence of her companion, she could not conquer.

Finally, she had climbed down again, and she let her arms hang as the sensation of needles wore on her nerves. Much of her strength had spilled out of her many wounds; she had to attend to them first before anything else. Weakness prevented her from immediately rising, and she sat still to simply rest as she observed her surroundings. Blood had been cast across the grass in gruesome arcs, some of it her own, and she remembered shouting that it would attract more. Hungry animals were not above eating their own kind, but perhaps she would prove a better meal.

With a heavy sigh she moved to stand, but something caught her eye.

There, on a vine, she saw a strip of her lost companion's alien fabric. Instinctively, her tongue flicked out to taste the air and she recoiled. She knew the scent of his sweat, his skin—their bodies had been close many times. This rag had been deliberately wiped across his form. Purposefully.

Why?

Venka's gaze lifted, noticing another ribbon fluttering, tied to the vine. She stood to sample the air.

Most curiously, the other strip of cloth had been soaked in urine, raising even more questions. Assuming he had been taken, which seemed logical given the advanced pace he had made, there would be no reason for his captors to put him on top of the rocks and make him mark it with his scent. Even the most bizarre abductor would prioritize returning to their camp, their village. The evidence was perplexing. Venka looked around the clearing, her tongue flicking out to find a trail, but only the stench of her fight to survive lingered.

She had heard shouting, she was sure of that. It wasn't just that creature making the noise. Something had happened in the clearing that resulted in his absence, the predatory creatures lingering, and the creature at the top of the rock being bound by cordage unique to him.

Venka's feathers perked up as she remembered the glinting on the rocks, her eyes narrowing as she looked toward it.

Had he jumped?

Davee wouldn’t have left his pack behind, she mused. No, he must have thrown it first.

Her eyes traced the imagined trajectory from the top of the rock, through the air, to where the pack would have landed. She pictured his small, nimble form leaping after it, crashing against the rock with a pained grunt. In her mind, he would have been quick to pick himself up and run, oblivious to anything knocked from the pack in the process.

That made sense to her and Venka knelt, running through the scenario in her mind again.

Silence in the clearing lapped over her conscious thoughts like gentle waves, dissolving them as she took in the grisly aftermath of the battle. Before people came here it probably had been a very serene place—somewhere she might have chosen to make a home, if she had to. But now, with the blood and the still bodies, it felt as though she had defaced something beautiful. Though she had never intended for this, it felt like a crime all the same.

Davee had a small part to play in that, but that was why she did not feel her efforts had been wasted. Thanks to his deception, the brave huntress had a trail.

Before doing anything else Venka chose to fix her wounds. With firm and steady breaths, she walked back toward the stout tree, wondering how she could use her meager supplies with every step that became increasingly painful as time wore on. A way to dull the pain would be helpful, and her eyes scanned for flora that might assist her, but the white petals and branching fronds tipped in gold of the hassaca flower were nowhere to be found.

Sitting down, she inspected the deeper teeth marks that had punctured her arm at some point. Flicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she didn’t feel any extra spines, but she knew one had buried itself deep in the flesh inside her cheek. Venka inhaled deeply, pushing past the wall of pain, and inflated her torso into a realm of agony. With careful, deliberate movements, she peeled the inside of her cheek away from her teeth and used the flat edge of a claw to probe for the spine. A shock of pain made her tail flick, her feathers twitching in anticipation as she focused on the spot along her snout and pushed.

A little spire poked through her scales, growing until she could push no more, the hot, searing pain throbbing as she reached up and pulled the spike out through the top of her snout.

Holding it out in front of her, she saw that it was still intact and rigid, making it an excellent tool for digging a tooth out of a swelling wound. Venka twisted her arm to get a good look at the worst offender and stabbed the quill in, using it to feel for the serrated edge. A small bit of leverage forced the tooth out.

Repeating this two more times was easy enough, and she felt for more along her shoulder with the edges of her claws and pads of her fingers. Somehow she had either gotten lucky and they fell out, or the beast hadn’t been able to bite that hard.

Next, she clawed at the grass, digging through the lush soil. After some serious effort, she made a hole deep enough to reach up to her knees, her black claws finally finding the layer underneath. Scratching out a few fistfuls, she held them up to the light and then to the blood dripping from her arm. The colors weren’t the same, but as she had been taught, it was best to find dirt half as red as blood. Venka used both handfuls to smear against her tan scales along her arm, shoulder, side, and back. Everything that remained was used with the grass to wipe her hands clean.

A bit of painful straining allowed her to remove her breastcloth. Venka sighed as the tension released, massaging the lingering throbbing caused by the leather garment out of her soft scales. Modesty could be set aside for comfort—she felt she had earned some relief. Scouring the breastcloth with more clay, she rubbed the crease that had irritated her left breast until it was smooth before tightly rolling the bloodied leather and squeezing it with her fists, twisting it to work out any remaining kinks or folds. She set the leather aside to rest.

Water would be a precious resource in the hills; she would have to be content with beating the clay and grime free and hoping that it hadn’t stained too badly.

A shaman would have attended to her expertly, but she had to make do with the lessons passed down from mother to daughter. With her chest bare, she positioned the strap of her pack comfortably between her still-aching breasts. She didn’t care about covering up—the pain was starting to wear on her, and her body screamed through her nerves as she tried to lift the pack.

With a muffled scream bubbling past her clenched teeth and lips, she hoisted the pack up and forced her arms through the straps. Her heart pounded, her body on fire with agony, but she steadied herself after some tense breaths. Gradually, every part of her that had protested the effort settled into a dull, bearable throb, persistent but manageable, as she turned back toward the clearing. Things were beginning to make sense to the huntress: she had the human’s trail, leading up into the rocks.

Venka had scaled the rocks to find the first clue of the trail, sparkling in the setting sun, and recognized it to be one of the forbidden things of the Sky People. Touching it proved too much; she left it where it lay and simply observed it with great anguish before departing. It served only to remind her of why she had left. Away from the mess of gore she had made, it was easier to taste his trail on the air, but she had wished for some kind of obvious clues. Tracking by scent alone was difficult, and she decided to keep moving whenever she felt fatigued, as every dark cloud was a threat that could do irreparable harm to her chances.

Much of the day's remaining time had been wasted, and night began to fall, but she forced herself past fatigue as she scaled the rocks. Every time she encountered a scrape of his bare skin against a rock, it was like someone had lit a fire in the darkness. She had to double back several times as the scent of him waned. Tracking this way was difficult, but not impossible, and he was so unlike everything else that she didn't feel as panicked as she might have, considering the situation. Even so, the terrain was not forgiving to someone as wounded as she was, and in the darkness, she fumbled for anything to steady herself.

As the moons crawled across the sky, her sharp eyes were able to make out the distant shapes of rocks and a cliff that she had been headed toward without realizing. Nearing it, she paused to sniff a rock, her tongue weary from tasting the air, and realized he had stopped there as well.

Looking back the way she had come, Venka understood him in a way she hadn’t before. He wasn't big or strong, but his mind... That made up for any physical limitation. Another aspect of Davee that she hadn't thought much about was his will—not just to keep going, but to do so on his own terms. How many of her own kind would've backed down if a furious giant screamed at them as she had? Not many. This was how she settled the question of his personhood, his individual worth; he was as Upright as she was and thought, felt, and believed in his own ways just as strongly as she did.

Worth. Venka was beginning to feel guilty about that part.

As she continued to track him, she tried to recall any point where he might have said something contrary to her plans. Did he even want to go to her tribe? Venka considered the question and went back to the moment she rescued him. That act wasn't to take him captive or claim him as a prize; it was genuine concern for his welfare, and it was the right decision to make. Only later did she start to make plans that were for him, not with him, but in the end it didn't matter how much consent he gave or withheld. Venka sighed as she climbed the rocks and paused to consider the thought.

No matter how smart he was, he couldn't think his way out of jaws snapping around his neck. If Venka herself could barely survive the untamed wilds with her agility, strength, and killer instinct, then the diminutive human had little hope by himself. Even so, he was Upright, and he would be a valuable member of the tribe.

Venka reached an edge where the rains had eroded away enough of the hill to cause a collapse. The jagged basin was ringed by a verdant incline with some trees stubbornly growing between the rocky edges. Bathed in the nocturnal light of the brilliant sky, it did look quite beautiful, and she could only imagine how it appeared to him earlier that day. Getting lost up in the hills, in this terrain, would've been easy, and it made sense for him to flee in that direction. She smiled, appreciating his cleverness, but she quickened her pace as light was dimmed by a dark cloud.

After a moment of stumbling in the dark, she finally relaxed as a beam of moonlight illuminated a perfect path.

"Finally," she said to herself, focused on the opening in the rocks and trees. "Some good fortune."

All it took was a single step, and the entire shelf of green collapsed.

Venka had nothing to stop her fall. She cried out and was silenced by the dirt crushing her chest and burying her face as she kicked and thrashed. Her claws reached out and felt nothing and everything, the rolling sensation offset by a constriction against her body as hundreds of sharp and abrasive things nipped and bit her scales, reopening her clay-packed wounds that had barely begun to heal.

And then, the sky reappeared, a glimpse of salvation as she clawed her way to the surface. Weight on her shoulders and back dragged her down, and she fought to free herself from the pack.

A boulder caught her pack, flipping her over it violently. The earth surged over her, burying her in an instant. Venka screamed as she fought the weight, trying to stand as the pack came loose. Something very hard hit her head; her body ceased the struggle as the view of the night sky faded.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWELVE

Venka awoke in a pile of dirt and rocks, her eyes rolling in their sockets as she sought out anything familiar. Patches of grass, some twisted saplings, and a stem of some underbrush poked up here and there across a vast field of disturbed dirt.

She blinked against the haze clouding her vision and attempted to rise, but pain in her sides kept her still. At that moment, she realized that every part of her body hurt, but it had cruelly waited for her to wake up before complaining loudly and without end. Around her shoulder was one of the pack straps, and as her hand slid up her belly, she felt the strap for her bag between her dirt-caked breasts. Venka blinked and held her hand in front of her as she struggled to comprehend what was happening. The distant hill caught her gaze—a collapsed forest, its proud trees bowing to a jagged wound carved deep into the earth.

Her mind caught up suddenly. Panic forced her to move. Ignoring her limbs and back and everything else crying out across her nerves, she searched around.

"Davee!" she shouted. Venka realized that he wasn't nearby!

She pushed herself onto her knees, gasping as a tightness crushed her chest, warning her not to push further. Memory of their argument came, and her choices she had made.

No, Davee isn't nearby, she thought to herself, I'm alone again.

Scent trails had been washed away by the dominating scent of wet, churned ground and as the wind picked up, she realized that tracking him again would be next to impossible until she could find another clue to his whereabouts. At least she had a direction, and armed with that, she set out toward the remaining splash of green against the marred hillside. Venka had faced a total of four landslides in her life, and all of them had been after leaving her home. Two had been within the same moon. It seemed as if everything in this region was unstable, and she longed for the familiar violence of the sea.

At least we could hear the waves, she thought while gathering her strength, the water never collapsed underneath me when I swam in it.

Putting the complaints out of her mind, Venka snarled through the incredible pain before the effort became too much, too horrid, and her attempts ended with a pitiful noise where her labored breath had been. She couldn't stand. Her body collapsed in a pile of dirty limbs as her chest clenched, and the agony did not release despite her stillness. Injury of that severity was a foreign thing to the huntress, and with no one around to judge, she did not hide her fear on her face or across her flattened feathers.

But surrender was a luxury she could not afford. She wiped the grit from her teeth, flared her mane in defiance, and pressed onward. Tears flowed from her green eyes and left cleansed trails over her cheeks as she fought. First forward, her claws sinking deep into the virgin ground before her, and then, with more effort than she had any right to muster, she pushed off and stumbled upright. Unsteady feet threatened to ground her again, but her focus was on progress, and with conscious and deliberate will, she mastered her long limbs. Each step was hard. It felt like she was breathing through her tribe's namesake, but she kept going.

Forward and up the hill, step by step, until the edge of the collapse was within reach. With a greedy touch, she steadied herself against the dirt before craning her neck up at the trees leaning precariously inward. Evidently, some water from the many recent rains had poured beneath the soil and carved a channel out underneath, and perhaps Venka was simply too much after too long for the sod to support. Standing in the wide channel, she could see the roots of the trees on either side dangling helplessly in the air.

Nature would heal. In time, grass would reclaim the scars, the weakest trees would fall, and the mountain would reshape itself as if Venka’s trespass had never been. The huntress made a point to remember that the Upright People had trampled the Garden laid out for them far worse than this. Long, long after Venka's meat rotted from her bones and her spirit soared in the night sky, there would be an equilibrium here. Though defiled, the natural world would endure as if nothing had happened—her irrevocable alteration erased. Such was Her plan.

Even so, she was not impervious to being crushed by one of the precariously leaning trees, and with her gaze upward, she quickly hobbled beneath them.

Traveling where her flicking tongue led her, Venka had lost track of time and all sense of distance before she finally looked up and saw that the day had passed her by. Above her, the dark clouds meandered across the sky, towering impossibly high, as they threatened to dump their contents across the land—they were mockingly indifferent to her plight. Parched by the constant effort, the tasting appendage slipped past her lips with far less ease than usual, and she lusted after anything to slake her growing thirst. Paradoxically, she wanted it to rain; her eyes glancing at the broad leaves of the unfamiliar plants around her and imagining them spilling with fresh water.

Rain had been frequent in the days after the sky began to burn, as if the sky wept in memory of that dark time when the Garden had been trampled. When the Shaman noticed the rain had blackened, she ordered all to retreat to the shallow caves that Venka had scouted. They stayed there during the worst of it, and the Shaman ordered all to avoid any puddle left behind after that terrible storm.

That hadn't been so long ago, but the warning to avoid the black rains dated back several generations, and so the Hollow Reeds obeyed their Shaman.

Venka looked down at a muddy puddle and cocked her head, watching unknown creatures squirm in what little moisture remained. When she bent down to see if any could be drunk—as disgusting as that would've been—a tiny worm leapt up from the soft mud to snap at her. Parasites that latched onto larger creatures and burrowed into their hides, she had seen one take hold of a child, and they had to hold the girl down to cut it out of her arm.

Locals warned against sleeping next to lakes for this reason, but until that moment Venka had forgotten that advice.

She rolled her eyes and kept moving, but the effort to rise to her feet was far harder than expected. Breathing was tougher for the strong but battered huntress, and she did not know why. Worry began to set in as she inhaled and felt another stabbing pain—so great that she couldn't continue—and Venka began to look for a real body of water in the hope that it would help. Sniffing the air softly brought more pain, but it was necessary.

Following the new trail, she came across a very still pond after a somewhat short walk down a natural path through the jagged rocks.

Gazing across the water, she saw that it was fed by a small stream from further up the rocks, and she debated attempting to climb to get at it. Perhaps it was a spring, which meant the freshest and sweetest tasting, but after she tried to drop the pack Venka realized she was in no condition to climb anything yet. Two or three days healing, perhaps, and she could lift her own body again if all went well. As it was, if she could finally catch her breath, she would be able to run down prey once more.

Her eyes looked down past her cheeks at the edge of the water. It seemed clean enough.

Just water—sweet, necessary water.

With an experimental prod of her foot, Venka tested for the biting worms and found that none inhabited the small patch of muddy sand immediately in front of her. After a reluctant—painful—dip to one knee, Venka reached forth with the empty waterskin that she had in her bag. 

As Venka reached down to fill her waterskin, a sharp, searing pain lanced through her side, forcing a gasp from her lips. She looked down and saw blood seeping through her clothes, the wounds from her fall reopening with her movements. Her lungs felt tight, constricted, as if an unseen force was squeezing the air out of her. Each breath became a labor, the air feeling thin and unsatisfying. The waterskin filled easily, but each movement sent razor-sharp pain lancing through her side. Her breath caught, a ragged thing that felt like broken flint in her lungs.

She stood up and lifted the skin to take a drink.

The water tasted strange—like blood—but her thirst was overwhelming. She gulped it down, feeling a momentary relief before the odd taste registered fully. Not the clean sweetness of a mountain spring, but something else. She frowned, lowering the waterskin, and looked at the pond with new suspicion. Something wasn't right, but she was too exhausted and in too much pain to puzzle it out.

Closing her eyes momentarily, she willed herself to keep going. Venka turned around and set off to continue tracking the little man that needed her.

Breathing now had become a battle. Venka blinked and realized that she had no idea how far she had walked; confusion set in, and she had almost forgotten why she was walking instead of resting in the first place—faint wisps of him on the air reminded her.

Shaking her head wearily, she forced herself to move forward. What a tragedy, she thought, such a great huntress reduced to a panting, wheezing shadow of herself.

And yet, the day carried on.

The world around her seemed to sway, time losing its meaning as she pushed forward, driven by sheer willpower. Venka had lost all sense of time—and nearly all sense of direction—as she navigated the difficult terrain in a meandering path set by her own limited ability. The dark clouds above meandered like indifferent giants, threatening to burst but holding their breath. Her tongue, usually a precise instrument of tracking, now slipped past her lips with increasing difficulty—fat and clumsy as it slapped in the air. Despite the burning in her chest, Venka urged her legs to keep moving, each step a testament to her will. Thirst clawed at her throat.

A lot of mistakes had been made in the past few days, Venka thought, almost saying the words aloud. Quite a number, indeed.

Regret gnawed at the edges of her unfocused mind. The fight with Davee played in her mind, a loop of missed understanding, of pride that cut deeper than any physical wound. She should have listened, really and truly listened, and made the effort to teach and explain. Letting her pride and hurt and shame each control her like some sniveling, simpering boy was a quiet humiliation that mocked her while she walked.

Every step toward the rock was harder than the last, her strength dripping out of her wounds. Her breath hitched, and her chest felt like it was filled with liquid fire. Each surge of effort forward and up was a negotiation with her failing body, and Venka did not fully understand why she felt so weak with wounds that had not seemed so serious not so long ago. Blood tracked her path, a crimson trail marking her slow ascent that had ceased to matter. Her heart thundered—erratic and desperate—as dark spots began to dance at the edges of her vision.

Time stretched. Thinned.

Became something else entirely.

"Venka!"

Sweet relief engulfed her as she recognized the voice.

Davee had found her. Venka wondered how, or if he had been following her this entire time just out of sight, but the questions faded as she focused on what was important. Weakly motioning, she tried to indicate a message for him to consult the people in the camp. All of this would be for nothing without that but she could not form any useful words amidst her ragged breaths.

Glancing behind her, she saw no one.

Her heart sank as hope of seeing him again evaporated, but she caught herself.

Venka picked herself up and wandered toward the sound of the people from the camp climbing down from the rocks. Looking down at the blood flowing from her wounds, she thought about how to ask them to help with that problem before it became too severe. Most of her own knowledge was limited, but what she did know had been taught by her mother. Perhaps this person's tribe had hunters who knew it was best not to bother a Shaman with minor wounds. Venka hoped so.

Leaning against the rough stone, she closed her eyes and focused on breathing.

They had climbed down and were in front of her, but she didn't get a chance to open her eyes before she felt it.

Arms around her midsection forced her eyes open.

A beautiful sensation gripped her, smooth skin on scales, and her heart clenched. Was this a dream?

A lance of shock and fresh pain followed, piercing her reality. His tightening embrace brought her back to the here and now, the breath dashed out of her as she winced and groaned. Anger roiled within, and then, as she saw the tuft of brown fur, she relaxed and simply allowed herself to breathe as she relaxed against his embrace. Unable to hold her up, Venka was guided down by her cherished companion.

"How?" she managed to ask. "How could you get ahead? Who took you?"

"I kept walking, Venka," he answered, looking her over. He said something else in his language.

She tried to stand again, but he forced her to sit. Before he could disappear again, Venka pulled him close with flagging strength and pressed her cheek to his in a brazen act of desperate intimacy. All the customs and their limitations were for people far away. She knew her tribe-sisters would insist that she remain detached and away from him even now, even after all that she had suffered, but Venka didn't care. During this vulnerable time, they would've warned against her urges toward passion, claiming compassion, surrender, adoration—her burning desire to feel anything at all—Venka allowed herself to indulge in the latter three during that private and forbidden moment.

When his face brushed against her as he pulled away, she saw that the grime had marred his beauty, but it was his sympathy and worry in his eyes that made her submit to his urging to remain still.

"No, stop moving," the human ordered. "You're losing blood. Do you feel cold?"

Venka felt the weight of her fatigue, now unbearable when coupled with his command, and she complied with a soft nod of her head.

"How cold?" he asked, taking off his shirt. "You're having trouble catching your breath because... I don't know how to explain this, your blood is not moving enough wind, air, in your body. This is going to hurt."

Davee peeled off his shirt, rolling it in his hands until it was a compact band that he put around the offending limb and tied it tight. She understood the purpose; it was basic care until one could be taken to receive proper attention. Venka groaned as the fabric cinched tight around her wound until she finally broke, her hand coming up to the back of his neck to use his presence as he hurt her.

"Can you walk?" he asked quickly, looking her over as if she would spring more leaks elsewhere. "You're probably too heavy for me to carry—"

"I won't allow it," the proud huntress declared, mustering what strength she had. "No, Davee, I will walk myself."

Those words gave him reason to pause. He stopped where he was, turning slightly as he looked her over, and she could see that he was at the edge of arguing with her. After a brief eternity of tension, the human relaxed so slightly that Venka almost missed it, and soon enough she followed by relaxing her bristling feathers—they had already fought too much.

Helping her to stand, Davee walked beside her to guide her up the hill to the camp that she had assumed was occupied. When they arrived, she found evidence of recent habitation, but in the months since then there obviously hadn't been many visitors, if at all. Perhaps it was a stop for nomads? Many of the tribeless, or wandering bands, often had semi-permanent spots they made camp in from time to time, but she found herself having trouble gazing into the buildings to learn more. Leaning forward a bit too far, she stumbled for a moment before collapsing in the dirt.

Venka just needed to rest awhile...

"Hey!"

She jerked back to consciousness.

"Stay awake," the human demanded. "You were right, I can't survive out here alone."

"I know," she breathed, her eyes unfocused. "I just had to get to you, so you wouldn't be taken."

"Taken?" he asked. Grabbing her snout, he stared into her eyes until she looked at him. "I need you, Venka. Don't quit on me again."

"I won't," she murmured, her feathers flaring as she tried to stand. "I just need to catch my breath."

She gave up immediately, the intoxicating presence of him was a siren call to relax that she didn't have the strength to ignore this time. Settling against the rock he had dragged her toward, she saw that her pack and bag were set off to the side in a very neat and orderly way—folded and ready to be used. Despite everything that had and was still happening, the corner of her lips curled in a tiny smirk from the sight. Davee, meanwhile, was examining every inch of her, and she soon focused on the sensation of his tiny hands on her.

Slowly blinking, Venka realized that her chest had an ever-present ache underneath everything else that was more than just being winded. No, something very serious was wrong.

He seemed to concur. His eyes spoke of a mysterious lifetime, that he understood sorrows beyond her current comprehension. Wisdom beyond his years, experience beyond the limits of what a male ought to have in her society, the look he gave her was a dark shadow from the past returning to visit her now.

"I think your... air meat, inside, is punctured," he said quickly. "So this should help you, but it's Sky People medicine, and I—"

"Do it," she grimaced. "I'm trusting you, Davee."

Though she was brave, and strong, and ferocious... Venka was afraid. Afraid enough to utter those words, to set aside the prejudice and hate and fear that had driven them apart, and, indeed, it was because they had been apart that fear gripped her now. When she saw the look the Shaman gave her moments before informing the young girl that her father would join the Singer's song before dawn, it had shattered her heart into countless shards. Worse still, she was told that it was a joyous thing that he had not felt the death of a child, and that she should be proud to have lived longer than him...

Venka grimaced and looked away, fighting tears of shame and pain, and she made a vow to herself as the human prepared to treat her. That memory—that hole in her soul—of her father's absence would not be a pain she would give to her truest and most noble friend: Venka would not allow herself to die before Davee was safe.

The noise of tearing the alien adhesive snapped her out of her current thoughts. She warily eyed the thing in his hand before the scent of the cloth hit her like a punch to the nostrils. Being so much more sensitive than him, able to detect the faintest hints of a trail in the forest, made her particularly vulnerable to whatever substance he applied to her shoulder. A harsh sting came soon after, screaming at her to stop him, but she endured it with only a soft growl in her throat; the pain in her chest didn't allow for much vocalization of any sort.

Somewhere she had detected that scent, and after a long moment of thought, she recalled the unnaturally blue water back where this all started, dripping from the ceiling, an odor so offensive it overpowered the scent of smoke.

"Your bag might have been saving you," Davee remarked, looking over the wound with consideration twisting his features into a scowl. "Maybe you were lucky. What did this? Why are you covered in dirt?"

"I am filthy because the ground gave out beneath me," she answered, glancing at him quickly. "Foolish of me to follow someone so small over unsteady ground, but I was worried about the rain. If I lost your scent—"

"You look like you were bitten," he interrupted, finished with his efforts. "This is going to hurt."

"I was bitten, I saw your trap you..." Venka trailed off when she saw the glinting spire he held up. "Davee... what are you doing with that?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned it in his nimble fingers, and with a hard look he pressed his fingers to the upper part of her chest and seemed to focus on her ribs as he felt lower. Before he crossed an inappropriate line, and before she was forced to confront the unspoken taboo of their proximity, he stabbed her suddenly.

All at once her world changed.

Breathing deep, it felt as if the invisible weight on her chest was gone, the surprise and joy flaring her crest of feathers for him to see. Pain remained, but less so, and she experimentally tried to fill herself with as much air as she could hold. Fatigue thawed and gave way to an elation and confidence that had been suppressed by worry and doubt, by short breaths and unsteady steps, and she even felt a bit relaxed in spite of the existing agony. Venka barely noticed him peeling something open and slapping it over her wound, her gaze directed down to the square patch that clung to her on its own.

"How do you say—"

"Lungs?" she asked, suspecting that's what he wanted. "My lungs are in my chest, where my breath goes."

"Yes, lungs. Your bite was letting air inside and stopping you from breathing," Davee explained, running his thumb over the edge of the patch. "This lets air out, but not in. Your bag strap looks like it was doing the same thing for a while."

"How did you get ahead of me?" she asked, having finally caught her breath. "I don't understand. I thought about going backward for you, but somehow you arrived in front of me."

"I just followed the trail," he said quietly.

"What trail?"

Davee looked away and scowled in thought. "You must have came from another direction. When they started tracking me, I went for high ground. I guess I found it."

Chuckling, Venka gasped and winced as the pain in her torso flared up. "Don't make me laugh, sweet Davee," she hissed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, but she could sense a certain smugness in his words.

Regret for leaving him started to compound as the facts of their separate journeys became too much to leave unanswered, but she had no words with which to convey all that needed to be said. How could she apologize for being right? Who could swallow pride with a throat parched by shame?

A way had to be found, but it was Davee who spoke first: "You were in a very big fight, weren't you?"

"Those three things that tracked you," the huntress answered, watching as he unpacked some of his supplies. "That was a clever trap, with the bird to keep them distracted. Even I was fooled."

Davee laughed as he took her arm and began to clean the dirt from around the vicious wound. Shaking his head for a moment, he seemed to consider his answer as the sting of his cure set her arm aflame. Again she found herself astonished by how loudly he seemed to think. All other things faded as she waited to hear his words, his being. The pain of not having him left her raw and seeking the comfort of company once again.

"They were in the open, and when I looked back I saw them. I realized they were tracking me," Davee said quietly, carefully tending to each puncture of her scales. "I thought it was better to not be seen myself, but then I thought about how they could smell me. I could use that, if I was not seen. And when I found the rocks, I heard the bird, and the noise it made sounded like someone yelling at me... I actually thought it was someone at first."

"I thought it was someone too!" she chuckled, ignoring the pain of it. "I heard it on the wind and came running, but I found them... Ah, sweet Davee, I almost lost. This is the worst I've been hurt in a long, long time."

His smile faded as he looked to her thigh, leaning slightly to peer at the wound on her back as well. "I'm glad you survived," he simply said as he went back to his task.

She must have looked like a savage to him, her feathers drooping as she put her arm over her chest. What once had been a proud and noble huntress was a filthy, pathetic thing that had almost met her end in the woods, chasing to correct a mistake and retrieve a neglected male. That story belonged around the fire as a warning to girls against acting so foolishly. She should not be living it.

"I am too," she murmured, not looking at him. "I'm..."

"You are still hurt," he answered for her when her words failed, but she did not continue. How could she? "May I?"

Venka said nothing and simply nodded, watching as he began to unpack all those sacrilegious things he needed to fix her. Despite her innate distrust and distaste of them, he had a sweetness about him that she could not explain that she should have recognized days ago. He was so different and yet so right, so familiar, she let her arm fall to expose her torso as a blush crawled up her neck and raised her feathers.

Fortunately, he made no comment about it and kept his eyes locked only on the injuries as he tended to her. When his hands touched her thigh, she felt a very familiar warmth roil through her body, but she did her best to remain as respectful to him as he had been toward her. Yet, so much of their earlier argument loomed overhead that added to her confusion, and as she watched his alien face she realized that he, too, was struggling to process what had been unsaid. Work distracted him, things to do, and they were alike in that way which made sitting still all the more torturous.

"Can I say something, though?" he finally asked.

"Of course, whatever you need to say will be heard," she answered sincerely.

"When I left my home, the one that I know, I..." he paused, his hands going still as he thought, "I wonder how I can say this?"

Venka blinked and cocked her head.

"I avoided warm places for many moons," he said slowly, unsurely. "Other humans were used to them, but I was not, and I did not go outside very much. Most of my work was inside, and I had to learn to get along with people I didn't like because I had nowhere to go."

"So you dislike it here?" she asked.

"I don't like running from animals all the time," the human laughed. Venka had to smile at that, but his tone grew serious as he continued, "I like you. Wherever you're taking us will be fine. I can find a way to live there."

When her breath halted he froze, but it hadn't been caused by any physical pain. Slowly he continued his task, giving her no time to think about an answer. Ignoring it was easy as she considered what he truly said, the words lingering inside his head, his confession was not a small one to make. Perhaps calling it such wasn't right, perhaps it was more of a concession, she almost heard a bitterness in those last words.

"My people are from... how do you say water that is so cold it is hard?"

"Ice?"

"My people come from a land called that, Iceland. I've never seen it," he admitted. "We left a long, long time ago."

"I have never heard of this place," she replied.

Davee laughed joylessly as he moved to the next wound. "No, I doubt that you would," he said slowly as the needle pricked through her flesh. "Ísland does not exist anymore. It is gone forever."

Venka listened to the human with rapt curiosity and imagined all the possibilities of his origins. Why had she never seen his kind before? Even travelers from across the sea sometimes arrived in their strange canoes. Distant wanderers came from lands as far as the Great Sands; she had met exotic people before. Even the journey of the Hollow Reeds would've never happened had they not encountered someone from those cold lands who spoke of a valley where people had never been.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, wincing as he tugged the cordage through her.

"Do you remember the sky signal? How it almost took my hand?" She nodded, especially thankful now that it had not. "Imagine a mountain doing that," he mumbled.

She looked at a distant formation of rocks, and her mind conjured an image of it erupting into fire and smoke, choking the land with more haze and making the rain black again. An explosion so powerful that it burned the sky again, the clouds streaked with fire and dark lines as thunder rolled even when there were no storms. Distant flashes of light followed by a burst of tremendous pressure that could throw a person and leave her ears ringing for days. Entire forests leveled, their leaves stripped bare of branches and trees, twisting the trunks into mockeries of their once-proud forms. She realized, with a pang of guilt, that she had judged him too harshly. He did not grieve his lost homeland as she did—his sorrow ran deeper, quieter, and colder.

"Davee, I—"

"That should be it," he announced. "I will need to fix the... wrappings tomorrow."

Venka covered her breasts as he stood up and carried the healing supplies to their packs and her bag, taking the opportunity to cover herself while he respectfully kept his eyes elsewhere. Standing up herself was interrupted by a sharp, painful gasp, and she sat back down to watch him.

When she had rescued him, it was dark, and she had always seen him from the front in good lighting, but for the first time she had a glimpse of his back. Scars on her own people were expected, but the agile huntress had been quite lucky to avoid having any major ones aside from a deep slash across her back and another that crossed under the thick base of her tail. Both had been earned during fights with other females. There were marks across her fingers and hands that had healed well, but the bite to her shoulder and the slashes across her left arm and her back were going to leave strips of pink as a reminder of the battle.

Davee, however, had always seemed immaculate. With his skin bare in the warm light of the late day, she saw that he had endured something horrible a very long time ago. Suspecting at first that it was a simple injury, she slowly began to realize that these marks had been inflicted over the course of several years. Snaking across his lower torso and down under his clothing, she saw a particularly horrific scar that circled from the left side and across his spine.

Whatever had caused him this wound had violated him completely, maiming him with calculated and deliberate malice. Gazing at the scar, she remembered all those times he favored his left side after walking for too long.

This human had endured more than she could yet understand, and the scar was just a hint of a deeper pain—one she had yet to unravel.

Chapter Text

I might explain more here later: https://www.furaffinity.net/journal/10949824/

In the meantime the simple way to put it is that I won't have much time to work on this until the fields are harvested. I have to get up really early in the morning and finish in the evening, so I basically have time to sleep and work and that's about it.

Sorry, but someone's gotta do it!

This is going to go away soon. :)