***

Dhanur shook her head and turned to the canyon again. Following its length, she glimpsed the horizon. The gentle amber rays of the sun were just pushing the violet moon away. “Oh, thank the Rays. Okay. I’m gonna go see if I can scout a way across. I’ll leave him here for you.”

“Mmhmm.” Janurana smiled.

“Okay then. Dekha. Keep an eye on her.” Dhanur backed up, then weaved through the shrubs beyond the path.

“Don’t strain your arm!” Janurana cried with the darkness of the night fading into the muted gray of predawn.

Janurana patiently waited for Dhanur’s steps to quiet down. She watched the brush line, listening to Dhanur explore. After having ascertained that she was far enough away, Janurana began her work.

Kneeling down, she took the break to appreciate her feelings. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt such a rush. Stalking in the city, even with a more delicious and fresh full human kill, didn’t have the same immediate satisfaction as seeing the blood leak from one’s victim before even taking a bite. Fewer people traversed the Outside after the Scorching, and those that did knew what it took to survive even against a gwomoni like Janurana. Even before the Scorching, she was much too busy staying on the move to hunt a less weary traveler as often as she’d like and none of them deserved it anyways.

Janurana touched the soaked dirt with her ax. As she thought about her previous hunts more and the thrill of the fight subsided, she remembered how off–putting vetala blood was, and she recoiled. The excitement she had crashed like a brick. Hunting a deer wasn’t the same and simply filled her stomach. Human blood was the greatest, but vetala blood was somewhere in between. The corpses had new life breathed into them with the puppeteer taking over, but it still had a hint of corpse rot, like a piece of food one couldn’t tell was off or not, but they were too hungry to care. It made her stomach churn.

Her back twinged again, expecting the tension. But there was nothing. She shot her gaze to Dekha, who only stared at her, unblinking.

Vetala blood wasn’t appetizing, and she was still fairly full from her past two feedings, but if she was going to a temple where Dhanur was raised, Janurana didn’t know when she’d get to feed again. She took what she could and focused on her feast.

Her tool required cleaning first. With methodical precision, she ran her rag along the ax, collecting every drop of blood from its head to its handle and catching any chunks. Unlike before, when the blood soaked through and kissed her finger tips, Janurana didn’t moan in reverie. She wondered if any others of her kind hunted in the Outside anymore. She had only seen two in the whole of her travels, one who was practically feral and another in torn noble clothes like her who leapt away with super natural speed the second he saw Janurana.

Dhanur slipped and let out a particularly loud tirade of curses, before a few large stones plopped into the river. It startled Janurana like a frightened mouse.

Dhanur cursed again, hanging from a vine on the cliff’s edge as the ground had given way when she leaned over it. She didn’t fall into the river.

Janurana slunk back down and opened her mouth, preparing herself to choke down her meal. With lightning speed, she clamped her jaw onto the balled–up rag. Despite the sour and acrid tang of rot, the blood still had its metallic taste that sent shivers through every fiber of her body. An almost hypnotic haze descended on her. The vetala sour came back with the aftertaste, but Janurana tried to remember the sweetness of the northerner’s blood she had eaten in the city. But all that did was bring up the horrified face of those who didn’t deserve the death Janurana gave them. Inhuman willpower was required to keep the blood down. She almost dry heaved. In a manner akin to drawn out breaths, Janurana forced herself to suck all she could from the rag and anything in it. The wretched feeling after each pull reminded her of how horrid she felt after one of her first kills.

It was a herder who stumbled upon the cave in which she was hiding for the day while traveling between towns. Janurana didn’t remember why things escalated but she ended up killing him, and not knowing when she’d feed again, took two of his flock as well.

Janurana felt the vetala blood energize her and she let the rag uncurl from her fingers and blackened, shrunken chips fell from it. Dried flesh.

Even though the path was fairly solid it had eagerly soaked up the blood. She looked to the horizon. With the sun rising, they wouldn't need to stay for long and any creature attracted by the blood would soon hide for the day. She swapped her ax for her parasol, slotting the weapon back into Dekha’s bags.

The morning sun continued to bloom over the horizon. With more clouds than usual hindering it as the wet season was nearly upon them it had fully driven off the blinding nature of the night. It blasted away any ambiguity and forced the trees to their ill–fitting natural color as dawn took over. A few mice and geckos skittered about underfoot and palm sized birds made their morning rounds.

Dhanur watched them flutter overhead from the canyon floor. Dust tumbled from her hood as she whipped it off, shook it out, and tied it back on. The initial stumble didn’t hurt her. She had been able to catch herself with her draw arm which was more than strong enough. Her wound was almost numb from the tightness of her wrap and she was mentally blocking any remaining pain. The wall of the canyon was slick with morning dew and spray from the river making it shine like polished tiger’s eye stones. On both sides of the canyon vines hung from the cliff edge to the floor. Dhanur gave the one she descended a few tugs, climbed a few body lengths to test its strength. Her bow arm complained, but she mainly used it for balance and kept her weight off it.

“Hey!” Dhanur called up.

“Yes?” Janurana replied a bit too quickly.

“Um, you okay?”

“Yes! Fine! What is it?”

“How’d’ya feel about climbing?”

A pause before Janurana answered. “I’d prefer not to!”

“By the Rays, of course not, Kumari,” she sighed. “Sorry! Gonna have to! Be up soon!”

As Dhanur made her way up the vine, she focused on other thoughts to distract from her wound. She remembered when she first climbed vines back at the mountain temple. They weren’t as long and her father nearly had a fit when he saw her. She fell then too, surprised by his yell. But she wasn’t hurt when she landed on her head, so her father relented, chuckling at how he felt bad for the ground getting hit by her thick skull.

It had also been some time since she had last been Outside. When she reached the top, she looked out over the waking world. It was still the same as it had always been, even after the fires. In a way, dry yellow grass looked the same as the red dirt underneath. They both covered the flat expanse and occasional hill or mountain of the plateau equally well. Crossing the canyon would put them officially in the Borderlands, and even from the edge she could see the slightly thicker foliage taking over the land. It was blasted away in the Scorching much more than Daksin and only then growing back around the denser and more numerous pocket forests, colonized by the smaller animals that hid underground or made it to shelter in the jungle. They were going to have an uphill battle reclaiming their land from the larger imp, vetala, and scorpion populations. She wondered how long it would take for the northern spirits to retake the wilderness with other patrols, but put the idea of spirits out of her mind. The image of Janurana’s mother silhouetted in the darkness sent a shiver down Dhanur’s spine, like the few boar clan spirits she had seen who took a more literal definition of silhouette before they transitioned to the living plane. Regardless, as she picked a few stones out from under her wrist guards, she couldn’t help but smile at having survived another night. Her wound seized in pain, but a few rigid smacks overruled it. She walked back to the path.

“You’re back!” bellowed Janurana who leapt out from behind a tree once Dhanur reached the path.

“Agh!” She stumbled back, trying to reach for her bow, but fell over.

“I got breakfast! How’s your cut?” Janurana slid a piece of roti into Dhanur’s face, blocking the world with her open parasol.

“Better than my ass now.” Dhanur blinked quickly as she sat up and stared at the energy incarnate before her. “Stop. Please,” she said directly, but softly as she took the food.

“Oh, oh, right. I’m sorry. You don’t like mornings, eh? Yes, you must eat first. That attack last night energized me! I feel so ready to take them on again!”

“I bet it did.” Dhanur grumbled and reached for her drink bag. She paused, remembering it was long emptied, with the memory punctuated by dull pain in her temples and forehead. “Daaaarrrkkk,” she drew out a growl that pitifully finished as a sad sigh and flopped back into the dirt, resigned to a dry breakfast.

“Didn’t you drink from the river while you were down there?” Janurana asked with a cocked head and finger to her lips.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Dhanur glared at her pointedly. “You know by the Light what I was drinking.”

Dhanur struggled to her feet, groaning while she held the bread in her mouth, before Janurana helped her up. Janurana watched as her companion continued to stand, rising more as she straightened up. She blinked as Dhanur took the bread from her mouth. She never quite noticed how tall Dhanur was until then, clearly in her element.

Until Dhanur bent over and cradled her thumping head. With a resigned breath and a final bite she began her morning stretches with warrior precision but used her bow rather than mime it. She flinched when her wound twinged with pain. Janurana copied what stretches she could while keeping her parasol aloft, quite enjoying the movement.

Dhanur practiced a draw from a crouch, left leg extended, and slowly returned to a standing position. Then she popped her neck to the side, facing away from Janurana as she spoke. “Hey, um, you okay?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Janurana copied, popping her neck to face Dhanur.

“Well, just, you—” Dhanur let out a sigh. She hovered a hand above Janurana’s shoulder in trepidation before giving two pats. “If you’re okay, then I’m glad you’re coping well. You’re doing well for a noble.” Dhanur dragged out the last word. “Do what ya need to do.”

Janurana still smiled as she recalled why Dhanur would be worried.

‘Oh, yes, I ferociously dismembered an animated cadaver a few hours ago! Victory. Like Mother’s warriors fighting on the battlefield!’ The thought of her mother sent a preemptive shock down her back. She froze.

“Janurana. You didn’t need to clean up the blood.” Dhanur was kneeling, inspecting the wet dirt.

“Oh.”

“You didn’t even get it all.”

“I don’t have a shovel to scrape it all over the canyon edge. I got most of it.”

“Get rid of whatever you used to clean it.”

“I already did. I’m not some lower class stooge.” Janurana blinked innocently. The rag was quite drained of blood.

“What the dark is that supposed to mean?!” Dhanur shot up and, in an instant, was almost nose to nose with the shorter woman.

Janurana stepped back. “Oh. Oh, no. I didn’t mean—”

“You’re right you didn’t mean!” Dhanur spun, pointedly shouldering Janurana who stumbled. She searched for the rag she used to wipe off her arrow, cleaned her bow notches, tossed it back off the trail, unstrung her bow, and put it, her quiver, and her scaled armor into the bags. “Need anything? I’m gonna put him away before we cross,” she said monotonously.

“No. I’m fine.”

“Right.” Dhanur nodded.

Mimicking the same motions as when she summoned Dekha, but in reverse, Dhanur extended her open hand. From the tip of his snout, the slightest flecks of Dekha’s skin lifted from him, then transitioned to shadows. After a few seconds, his whole body and saddle bags did the same. In a sudden snap he was naught but clouds of shadows sliding through the air, coalescing into Dhanur’s palm as a writhing sphere. Her arm shook. Though it was her draw arm and it was much larger than her left, it still quivered as fragments from the ball of shadows prodded at her wrists. Her other hand flung her hood back and she forced her arm to bend, pressing the orb into her bangs. With the job over, she slapped her hands onto her knees and let out a protracted wheeze. The veins on her forehead trembled and stained with the darkness that was her bull flowing into her.

“Are you okay?” Janurana placed a hand on Dhanur’s back, hesitantly, but began rubbing it with concern.

“I’m fine, just takes a bit out of me is all.” She rose and let out another wheeze. “Ugh. Went down there with blood on my bow.”

“It’s morning. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, guess so. Probably nothing’ll smell my wound by tomorrow. Be healed up by then. Come on. I found a way down that shouldn’t be too hard. Lower class people have skills too.”

Janurana frowned and avoided Dhanur’s glare. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I only meant, well, I should have chosen my words more tactfully.” She bowed low at her hips.

Dhanur looked at Janurana sorry display and sighed, then rolled her eyes and blushed. “I know. I know. I don’t have the best past with… your kind. Sorry I got mad too. It’s fine.”

“Thank you.” Janurana kept her head down in apology.

The pair went to a dried natural spillway cut by years of monsoon rain. A vine ran along it and out over the cliff’s sheer edge. When Dhanur climbed up the effort had torn the vine loose, allowing for better grip.

“Here, like this.” Dhanur went first, to instruct Janurana on how to repel down. She knelt, taking hold of the vine with both hands, and secured her grip. Only after she tugged to make sure she wouldn’t slip did she scoot back methodically.

Janurana noticed Dhanur favoring her left arm, and saw the drops of blood poking through her bandage, but oddly, it wasn’t drawing her near.

“Dhanur.” Janurana stepped forward.

“What?”

“You never actually told me how your wound was doing? Are you okay?”

“Fine. It wasn’t my draw arm. I can do this with one hand.” Dhanur perfected her positioning right at the cliff’s edge then she looked up to Janurana who nodded to show she understood. With a nod back, Dhanur slid her legs over the edge, scraping the stone as her body followed their weight. She allowed herself to slowly fall until she was fully off the edge, and she hung on the vine. “Let yourself slip. I’ll scoot down and you try it.”

As Dhanur scooted further down the vine, Janurana peeked over the edge, marveling at the height. A fall from it would certainly hurt even her if she slipped. While still perplexed at her body’s apathy toward the exposed blood on Dhanur’s arm, she was excited by how fun climbing a cliff could be. Janurana couldn’t remember if she had ever done so before. She stepped back and enjoyed psyching herself up as if she were scared, before copying Dhanur’s movements with the open parasol’s handle pushed down into her sari.

“Alright, nice and slow, we have all—Janurana. Just put the parasol away.”

“I would, um, rather not look down,” she gave her excuse.

“Then why did you look bef—Okay. It’s fine. Now, your hands and feet are tight around the vine, so very slowly loosen your grip and allow yourself to slide. Like you’re-” Dhanur stopped herself from describing it as a controlled fall, “like you’re letting the vine slide up through your hands, but keeping it from slithering real fast.”

The pair slid down, specks on the cliff’s edge. Janurana peeked from under her parasol observing the canyon as it continued into the distance. The sun had risen high enough that it was safe for her to gaze at the horizon’s magnificence with the tips of the western mountains peaking over it. They were smaller than the eastern ones, but no less tantalizing. She’d forgotten if they were smaller or further away.

‘No, I think we’re about the same distance from each now,’ Janurana thought.

Regardless, they always looked greener than the eastern mountains which were the same reddish–brown as the rest of the ground.

When she brought her attention back to the task at hand, Janurana suddenly felt less energetic as she repelled further down.

“You’re almost done.” Dhanur’s attempt at an encouraging tone broke Janurana from her gaze.

She peeked down, seeing Dhanur’s outstretched arms beckoning her from the canyon floor. Janurana loosened her grip further and allowed herself to slide faster down the last few feet and into Dhanur’s arms. She shook her hands to cool the friction burn.

Just then, the gravel underneath her shifted and she lost her footing. Dhanur’s arms instinctively wrapped more tightly around Janurana’s waist, to both of their surprises, but not chagrin. Janurana smiled knowingly as Dhanur blushed and stumbled then hissed softly as her arm throbbed.

“Ahem. Right. So, now back up.” Dhanur blushed as she stepped back, releasing Janurana.

Janurana chuckled, giving the vine a tap in thanks for helping her down.

“Not too bad, right?” Dhanur asked.

Janurana slid her parasol out from her sari, twirling it as she strolled past Dhanur. “No, I’ve never had many complaints from people holding me.”

“Huh? What! No!” Dhanur wanted to blubber out more half excuses, but she shut herself up.

“You should really fill your water skin,” Janurana said. She sighed and sat heavily at the water’s edge, wiping her mouth as if she had taken a sip.

“I’ll be fi—” Her companion’s pursed lips shut Dhanur down. “Alright. Alright. Ugh. You’re right.” She noticed the cadaver limbs she’d tossed down alongside rubble from the bridge. “Of course dawn was seconds away.” She knelt, removing her bag’s cork, pushing out the air, and washed it out before filling it. “Whatever. Come on.”

She rose, pointing to the set of stones before them protruding from the river. They disregarded its rapid speed. Water crashed against them, the spray coating every exposed inch to remind the stones they weren’t free as the fish leapt over them.

“See those three, the big ones? They’re close and flat enough. We can hop over them. I’ll go first. They’re slippery so—You coming?”

“Hm?” Janurana raised her head. She had no idea it had lowered. Her eyes swelled with concern as she looked down at her feet. They refused to move. She struggled to raise her legs, but she stayed seated. “Uh.” She shook her head and fought her suddenly heavy eyelids.

“Janurana, let’s go.”

“I am trying!” she snapped. “I can’t… Can you carry me?”

“What? Are you serious? It’s three rocks!” Dhanur motioned to them.

“I know that! We’ve not all been a warrior! I’m not used to climbing like that.”

Janurana’s voice trailed off in weariness.

‘That does make sense,’ Dhanur’s inner voice said.

‘She said she climbed a bunch of trees back home, remember?’ Dhanur shot back.

Rather than press, Dhanur stomped back and sank to her knees in front of Janurana. With her back facing her, Dhanur beckoned her to hang on. She obliged, sleepily throwing her arms over the warrior’s shoulders.

“Dark,” Dhanur mumbled, again, sucking up the pain and bouncing Janurana on her back to put most of her weight on one side. Regardless, she did her best to focus on the rapids.

Janurana fought the lethargy. All the manic energy from her feeding was lost to the river’s current. She tried to think of why it was taking over.

‘Something, running water. High up bridges… good? Been so long since I had to cross a river. I don’t… but Dhanur’s hood so soft…’ Janurana’s thoughts trailed off and she slipped into sleep.

Dhanur dug her foot into the river bank and took the first leap across the stones. She was too focused on silently complaining about the extra weight on her back to notice Janurana’s unconsciousness. The rocks were a distance apart, not perfectly flat, slick with water, and more than once a fish almost leapt into Dhanur’s face. The river wasn’t forgiving to a single slip and balancing Janurana on her one good arm made her favor one side. Without the use of her arms for balance, Dhanur struggled to stay upright. But she enjoyed feeling someone, anyone so close no matter who they were, and the homeless Kumari did seem tuckered out.