“They came, they decimated our inferior technology and sent us hurtling back to the dark ages!” ~ Grayson Hawk, Skin Eater

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An unnaturally large Aspen shielded me from view. I peeked around. A cool breeze tickled my face carrying with it a pungent odor. Tall trees that appeared centuries old, but had only sprung up in the last nine years, stood between me and my prey.

A branch rustled overhead. I darted forward and slid behind another towering Aspen. Through the yellowing leaves, I spotted an eagle taking flight into the glaring blue. And high above its wings, a white ribbon—colloquially known as the moon-stream—flowed across the crystal clear sky. They were remnants of tiny rocks and dust that weren’t reassembled. And as beautiful as it was, especially at night, it was a bitter reminder of the day our lunar satellite had been nearly destroyed. A day, survivors agreed, marked the start of the invasion.

I snapped my focus back to my target and crept closer and slipped behind a solitary Douglas-fir. From the quiver slung across my back, I pulled an arrow.

Thirty yards North East of me, squashed against another giant Aspen crouched an unshaven man—our second-in-command—John. He jerked his head towards my mark, freeing shaggy ash brown strands that tumbled over his broad forehead.

Bark pressed the hardened leather sheath, housing my machete, into my thigh as I peeked around the trunk. Warm mid-morning rays broke through the multicolored canopy in thick golden beams, lighting up the brown and grey forest floor. An icy breeze loosened strands of my pale hair, tangling them into my eyelashes, but I did not blink. I remained fixed on the mother and babe fifty yards upwind of me.

I slithered out, hunching low, and snuck forward. The spongey forest floor muffled my steps. Low-lying twigs scraped across my exposed forearms. While moving, I nocked the arrow into place.

John waited and watched. His heavyset muscles didn’t make him the most stealthy of our hunters—it had been some years since he’d last ventured out. I caught a flash of messy dark curls about forty yards east of John. Dan, my regular hunting partner—a teen four years my junior—was in position. John was only here because of a stupid bet they’d made, which was also why I held an archaic longbow in my grip. Last night, Dan had gloated that no matter the weapon I could deliver death with a single shot. The winner got three days worth of the loser’s rations.

I was tempted to miss to teach him to keep his big mouth shut. On the other hand, the thought of the expressions on the other hunters’ faces when John declared his loss was enough to keep me in the game. I inched closer, lining up the fawn. Killing babies was never fun, but game had been scarce over the last week so there was little choice. Which meant we’d probably move soon. And if it weren’t for the restrictions our camp leader, Sam had imposed I would kill both to save myself the trouble of coming out again tomorrow. He called it precautionary measures so we wouldn’t hunt the forest dry, and Sam’s orders were law.

His reasoning did make sense, but in the days before I’d joined these people, when my younger brother and I had struggled to survive, planning ahead had been a luxury. After Mom died I’d learned to take anything, even newborn animals, nothing was spared. The fawn was too young to fend for itself, sealing its death sentence.

Cool cylindrical wood slid over the back of my hand—in the dip between index finger and thumb. I took aim. The longbow creaked under the pressure of the draw. I was one of the few who could use this antique with accuracy.

The doe’s head snapped up. Her ears jerked around, homing in on a sound. A soft foreign hum trickled through the wilderness. The noise grew, like a swarm of bees flying this way. I held the baby in my sights, zeroing in on its fuzzy neck. A lower pitch whir joined the buzzing and created a spasm up my spine.

The whirring got louder, recognizable. Mother deer bolted. The fawn leaped after her. Shit! It could be only one thing—Cardinals.

John charged out of his hiding spot, skidded to a stop, and stared in the same direction. Through the gaps in the foliage, the sky was clear, but our ears didn’t lie.

“Dan,” I called out.

A youthful face, half-covered by tangled curls, popped up over the brush. He straightened, mouth gaping, he gawked upward.

John cursed and sprung toward our youngest hunter, and our leader’s only son. He sprinted, his heavy footfall creating soft thumps and releasing an explosion of aroma. An earthy compost scent assaulted my nostrils as I sprung to follow and within a few seconds flew past him.

“We gotta split!” I yelled.

Dan stood as stiff as a rock and didn’t flinch even when I shook him. I couldn’t blame him for being frozen with shock because the Cardinals hardly ever ventured this far from the cities. The new high pitched whizzing got louder, deafening. The vehicle creating the foreign noise would be visible in seconds.

“Get down,” John warned.

I tackled Dan. We thudded into the ground, thick with decomposing leaves. A metallic white craft swooshed overhead, casting a brief, long slim shadow. It was unlike any airship I’d ever seen. Glowing blue lines decorated its streamlined hull.

The whirring hum grew to a roar and Earth’s new dominant species zoomed over, flying in two gleaming red prowlers—spacecraft that had ravaged the world. Luminous scarlet lights flashed through naked branches. The crisscrossing stripes on one of the prowler’s bulky exterior brightened before an energy bolt erupted.

A boom louder than thunder rocked the forest. A swirling crimson sphere shot out its rounded wing and streaked toward the slimmer, more aerodynamic white spaceship. At the last second, the white ship evaded and the coiling mass of red light whizzed past.

Dan’s eyes were so wide I feared they might pop out as he gaped up at the fading energy ball.

“What the…” he said, mouth hanging.

The white craft rolled—its top the mirror image of its belly—and looped around, speeding straight for its attackers. Both prowlers fired more pulsating spheres. I flinched as every shot hammered through my eardrums. The new ship dodged left then right. Zigzagging through the sky swifter than any human-made jet had ever been able to. It regained its original course, zooming towards our enemies.

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I clenched my fists as they drew near, sure I was about to witness the destruction of the mysterious craft. The three alien ships were nearly on top of one another when the blue stripes along the white one lit up, shining bright, and fired a blinding silvery sphere.

A whip-like crack, like lightning striking the earth vibrated through my skull. I cupped my ears and recoiled into a crouch, but forced my gaze skywards to witness the ending.

The swirling, liquid metal-like sphere burst on impact, consuming the left prowler in a white flare. Shock waves rattled the forest, drowning out our cries. We dove for cover, throwing ourselves to the ground. Hot turbulent air rushed over us. The blast rang in my ears and knocked hundreds of yellowing leaves from trees, sending them fluttering down.

A bright blue blur zipped through the puff of smoke, speeding after the remaining prowler. My jaw slackened as I stared up in wonder. Since the invasion ten years ago, the aliens hadn’t lost one vessel. Earth’s inferior weapons had never penetrated their technology. We’d just witnessed the most mind-blowing event of the century.

“Sky.” John grabbed my shoulders. “Sky!”

His grey-blue eyes bulged and his thin lips hung wide enough to trap a fly. An expression that no doubt mirrored my own.

“That just happened, right?” he asked. Without waiting for a response he continued. “You ever seen a ship like that? Or heard of one?”

I shook my head, not needing to ask to which ship he referred.

He shut his mouth and chewed on his bottom lip. We glanced up as a droning hum whizzed by. Dan recoiled and ducked. John grabbed the back of the boy’s collar and tugged him up.

“Time to scram,” he said.

I nodded, turning to follow.

“Wait.” He paused. His thick eyebrows furrowed together as he peered at me through droopy eyelids. He grunted as if he’d resolved an internal debate. “I know what Sam would say, that white ship… We need to learn more about it.”

The muscles in my face tensed as my heart skipped a beat.

Dan gasped. “Are you crazy? It’s too dangerous.” He clutched onto John’s corded bicep—they were like uncle and nephew to each other.

“We can’t pass this up. Someone needs to stay behind and see if that white craft survives. If it can take out a prowler…” he sighed, tugging his arm free. “The possibilities are immense.” His gaze didn’t waver, an intensity shone from his eyes, almost as if he was willing me to understand.

“Are you ordering me?” I asked, baring my teeth.

John sized me up, I read his hesitation. He’d never exercised his authority over me, only Sam gave me orders. Physical strength and usefulness determined our ranks at camp, which meant I should be at the top, but my lack of people skills kept me out of the fold. We both knew he had every right to expect me to obey, he was after all Sam’s second in command.

A ship sped overhead, making us cower. Dan whimpered while scanning the sky, his trembling fingers digging into his own forearm.

“Fine. Go. Warn the others,” I said, clenching my fist until my knuckles popped. “I’ll gather what intel I can.”

“No,” Dan cried. “Let me stay.”

John snorted. “Absolutely not. She can look after herself. Your Pa would skin me alive if I left you behind.”

Dan chewed on his lower lip, his dark eyes darting between us. He grabbed my hand. The strength in his lanky arms caught me off guard, he pulled me in for a quick hug. In the last year, he’d shot up to my height, an inch shy of John.

“Be careful.” He gave me the pouty, puppy dog expression he used whenever things didn’t go his way.

John rolled his eyes before facing me. “Stay alive and be back by tomorrow. If you’re not at rally B by ten… I’ll assume the worst,” he added, then dragged my hunting partner with him, off into the woods.

I blinked after them a few times, fighting off the crawling sensation Dan had provoked. It happened whenever someone touched me, the feeling of a thousand ants scurrying over every section of skin the person had come into contact with. I couldn’t contain the second shudder as I watched their forms disappear behind the thick brush. Another burst of energy whooshed overhead, I bobbed instinctively. I needed to move too, these ships wouldn’t stay in the area for long.

Darting in the opposite direction, I sprinted at full speed, dodging low branches and weaving around trees, all while keeping an eye on the sky. I was definitely crazy for following John’s command, he even more so for issuing them, but orders were orders, and obeying them had been drilled into me until I’d bled. There was no guarantee I would be able to observe the rest of the fight. Maybe they would disappear over the horizon or maybe a stray energy blast would hit me, but a ship that could take down a prowler was worth the risk.

The forest thinned. I skidded to a halt, one step shy of falling into a canyon. A flash of light seized my attention. Below, the two aircraft sped through the winding ravine at velocities, leaving blurred lines of blue and red. I dashed along the edge in the direction they disappeared, clamoring up a small slope hindering my path. In my haste, I slipped down rock face on the other side, scraping up my knee and elbows. The pain barely registered as I desperately searched for the battling ships. I heard the engines whizzing and hissing but couldn’t find them.

Soil and wood erupted into the air, sending me diving for cover. My bow slipped from my shoulder as I slammed into gravel. I rolled, huddling behind a tree. A blast of heat and debris rushed past, sweeping the archaic weapon over the edge. I curled in tighter. A loud whir came from behind. Milliseconds later the white ship—the potential answer to the world’s prayers—sped overhead, discharging two shots, this time coiling masses of electric blue. The Cardinal craft fired three. My eardrums reverberated, assaulted by the thunderous blasts. Ruby and sapphire spheres streaked across the sky.

The prowler swooped down, avoiding the first shot, but not fast enough to evade the second. The sphere hit its rounded wing, flattening on impact. Crackling tendrils spread out, engulfing the crimson craft like a net. The red airship’s lights faded out as it spiraled out of control, plummeting out of the sky. It slammed into the opposite side of the canyon wall. Tremors shook the ground beneath my feet. A black fiery cloud exploded out of the ravine.

I jumped up, frantically searching for the wingless ship. In the distance I found it, speeding over the forest. It flew evasively, dodging two crimson spheres, but one still gave chase. It banked right. Luminescent blue stripes, zigzagging its smooth metallic exterior, flickered as it pulled up. For a split second the craft stopped short as if stalled. The third shot clipped its rear. Flames erupted. Grey smoke snaked out like a gigantic serpent.

Dammit! Not the white ship.

My fingers ached, and I uncoiled the fists I hadn’t been aware I’d made. It had been a decade since another vessel had flown in the prowler dominated sky. Not since the aliens had descended in their city-sized, sleek mirror ships, changing life as we knew it. Not since they had decimated our air force and claimed it as the Cardinal’s sky. So I should have expected it. Though, for a second, a pathetic glimmer of hope had sparked up inside. My imagination had played through a dream scenario of a planet freed from Cardinal Reign, but the reality was, no one was coming to save us.

The craft spun out of control and crashed into the forest. Dirt spewed into the air like a giant fissure erupting. Mindlessly, I dashed towards it. Wood splinters and grit rained down as I weaved through the trees.

The cloud marking the crash site, dissipated by the time I skidded down a small slope and stopped in the middle of an opening. A deep, long path of destruction carved into the Earth’s surface. I hurried along the trail, hoping the ship would still be intact but my heartbeat faltered when I saw the end.

Rough tracks led off the edge into the gorge below. I dropped to my knees, peering over, expecting to see a burning mess, but instead found nothing. Only the blue river twisting and frothing over boulders. No sign of wreckage. The water couldn’t have swept it away so quickly, I was sure of it. Then where was it? I peered downstream, again there were no traces of anything alien.

“Uh. Hi there, a little help please.” A strained voice penetrated my ringing ears.

I jerked in surprise and scrambled backward, my head snapping left and right, craning in search of the person who’d spoken. But I was alone on the canyon’s edge. The voice rose up again.

“Down here. Hello?”

I slithered back and peeked over. My gaze froze, widening until my eyeballs hurt, caught on the deep red sleeve attached to a hand clenching a root.

“Cardinal,” I whispered.