Not everyone can climb this high. But not everyone is Suwa.
The sun blazed at its zenith, burning with the intensity of a festival fire. Suwa pulled herself higher, her muscles aching with every movement, and found a small crevice to brace her foot. Not far now. A few more elbows' length, and she would reach the top.
"Oro, keep an eye on your daughter. And grant her the strength to finish the task," she whispered, her breath ragged as she moved closer to the peak of the Red Spear. It had been two days since she began the climb, and exhaustion was setting in. She’d only found one small flat rock where she could rest briefly, half-asleep, trying to conserve what little strength she had left. Her water had run out at dawn, and now the sun was directly overhead, making every step harder.
The village chief had chosen her for this. Push with one leg, shift your weight, use your knee for balance. She could not fail. Not after trying to prove herself worthy for two full cycles of the moon. Slowly, she turned her body, her calves screaming with each movement, and hooked her right leg over a stone out of reach of her hands. A drop hit her cheek. Rain? She caught it with her tongue. Blood.
Her eyes scanned the rock beneath her hand and noticed a small streak of red trickling down from a sharp edge. She hadn’t even felt the cut. Ignore it. She gripped the stone harder and pulled herself closer. Her legs trembled, the sun scorching her back, but she was almost there. The nest was in sight.
The top of the Red Spear was flatter than she expected, and though her legs wobbled, she found solid footing. But there was no time to rest. Once the sun started to dip, the owner of the nest could return at any moment. She had to finish before then.
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The rock formation that held the nest wasn’t far, but each pull sent a jolt of pain through her cut hand. She gritted her teeth and pressed on until she reached it. The nest was massive, big enough to fit several adults. Suwa murmured a quick prayer to Oro and began sifting through the debris.
The stench was overwhelming—rotting twigs, dried leaves, bones, bits of hide—all held together by dried feces and saliva. The middle of the nest looked softer, where she figured the egg might be hidden. Carefully, she moved rocks and pebbles aside. She knew that whatever she was looking for had to be important, but she didn’t know why. The village chief had only said it was her task, and that was enough.
The sun was inching lower, casting long shadows. She tossed a stone over her shoulder, hearing it bounce off the rock below before tumbling down the Spear. Her fingers brushed something smooth.
Suwa’s breath caught in her throat. Gently, she pushed more of the filth aside and pulled out an egg. It was warm to the touch, about the size of her palm and a half. The surface was slick and smooth, swirling with faint patterns. She didn’t know what these patterns meant, but the egg felt strange in her hands, almost... alive. She tucked it carefully into her satchel, tightening the strap around her shoulders. She had to move. Fast.
She scrambled back to the small flat rock she’d rested on before, searching for a foothold to start her descent. Just as she was about to lower herself, a sharp, shrieking sound pierced the air. Suwa froze. A dark shadow passed overhead, heading straight for the nest.The sounds of crunching and rustling followed. Suwa’s heart pounded. It’s back. She slid the satchel in front of her, pressing her back as hard as she could into the crevice, trying to become as small and invisible as possible. Her breathing slowed, her whole body trembling, as she tried to hide in the cracks of the stone, praying she would go unnoticed.