“So, how does this work?” Yalmay asked. “Do we just stand here or…?” She looked at Multhamurra as if she expected him to understand. He looked at her blankly for a second and then rolled his eyes.

Then bizarrely, he responded. “So how does this?” Multhamurra asked in the same strange accent. “I understand so how does this but work?” He shrugged. “I don’t got. Maybe.” He switched back to his other speech and said a few more words to Yalmay. The two of them immediately launched into a conversation.

Kylara just exchanged a dumbfounded look with Joontah. It was the same type of look you gave a friend when you’d just seen something strange and needed to get the reinforcement that yes, indeed it was strange. Because was Multhamurra already picking up that much Koulan? It was broken, but it was understandable. Did that mean he was remembering or was he learning it anew? Kylara tried to remember what they had said before. Was it even possible for Multhamurra to pick up that many words? Had they even said them?

Yalmay, meanwhile, was still speaking. She was using more hand gestures than was typical for her. The speech struck Kylara as rather long and rambley.

“You think,” Joontah leaned over and whispered, “she’d be listening more and speaking less if she was asking for instructions on how to get into the warren.”

“She’s just nervous,” Kylara said. “She’s never met a warbler before.” Okay, bit of a lie. “Or I suppose she’s met Multhamurra before now, but she didn’t know he was a warbler then.” Gods, the truth could be so clunky.

“…Kylara…” Yalmay said.

Joontah raised his eyebrows at Kylara. “She’s talking about you,” he smirked.

“…Joontah…”

“And you,” Kylara added.

It was odd hearing someone talking about them and not be able to understand. Excluding warding exhibitions and Yalmay and Joontah’s nonsense speech, Kylara could probably count the number of times she had heard a foreign language on one hand. Kookaburra Creek was too insular for that many visitors.

Or Kylara assumed it was foreign. Maybe it was some sort of well babbled nonsense. Yalmay hadn’t given them a name yet. Kylara wondered how long it was going to take her to ask Multhamurra what the name of the language she had suddenly and mysteriously learned was. It would’ve been among the first things Kylara would have asked.

She guessed two days. Two days before Yalmay asked what language it was she was speaking. Two days and a bit. Maybe. Yalmay would definitely ask about the syntax of the language or whatever before asking its name.

Kylara closed her eyes and listened, trying to let the rhythm of the words and tone flow over her. It sounded like Yalmay was pleading a case. Short, passionate sentences followed by a more lengthy explanation. Multhamurra occasionally interjected with a few short responses. At one point, Kylara thought she heard the name Lenah shortly followed by Joontah.

“Fine,” Yalmay said after a moment. She crossed her arms.

“What did he say?” Kylara asked.

Yalmay looked around and sighed.

“He says we need to stop Lenah from crushing the gwiyalas. He says they deserve a proper burial.”

Joontah looked around. “Stop her from what–oh, ew. Wha–why is she doing that? Ugh.”

Kylara followed his gaze. Lenah was on all fours, her knees and palms covered in gore from the gwiyalas. She looked up briefly at Joontah after hearing her name.

Without breaking eye contact with him she yelled: “Squash! Squash!” and slammed her fists through the back of a fallen body of a gwiyala, pulverising the remaining part of its shell. She did it without changing her expression.

Joontah gagged as Lenah crawled to the next one. This too was met with a swift, calculated squash. She moved to the next. All were met with a crush of her knee or the press of her hand. Lenah didn’t seem to be taking any joy in it either. Sometimes there was a slightly hesitation or wobble in her movement, but she hadn’t missed one yet.

Kylara had been watching her from from the corner of her eye for the past few minutes. She had considered stopping her, but honestly–what was the harm?

It gave Lenah something to do which was more than she usually had. And other than making a mess, there was no downside. If anything, it was more assurance that all the rabid gwiyalas were dead. And Pemulabee had predicted more rain soon. It would all wash away into the billabong.

“I think I am going to be sick,” Joontah said.

“Multhamurra said he wanted to bury them?” Kylara asked to change the subject. Because it really was rather disgusting.

“Weeeell,” Yalmay said, “he didn’t volunteer to do it specifically. Just said that they should be buried. Said it was proper.”

“There is a lot of them,” Kylara said.

Yalmay was still watching Lenah. “Crushing them into the ground is a sort of burial, isn’t it?” she said.

“No it isn’t,” Joontah said.

As they watched, Lenah scampered over to another gwiyala, grabbed it and began tugging, finally ripping off a limb with a nasty tearing sound. She tossed the limb aside and it landed not two metres away from their feet. Joontah shuddered.

“What else did he say?” Kylara asked.

“I’m going to go talk to Lenah,” Joontah said. “She can’t keep doing that.” He walked away.

“Multhamurra didn’t say anything too important,” Yalmay said. “He wanted a minute to get his energy back. Then he said he’ll explain everything. He says there’s more to this than you know, and that we should just trust him.” Yalmay shrugged. “C’mon, let’s help Joontah.”

He better explain everything, Kylara thought. And later has to better be soon.

They walked over to grab Lenah, who was still methodically crawling to every gwiyala, lifting it up, examining it, putting it down, then crushing it with her knee or hand.

“Lenah,” Kylara said as they approached. She had circled back around from where she had first started, and she was picking apart a purple gwiyala’s wings, mumbling to herself.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Lenah, I’m going to take you home now,” Joontah said. “You can see your brother again. Does that sound okay?”

Lenah briefly glanced up at the mention of her brother. Then she took hold of the gwiyala’s antenna with her fist and pulled until the entire section tore free, dripping stagnant hemolymph. Both Joontah and Kylara looked away.

“You’re going to what?” Yalmay asked. She looked at Joontah. “You’re going to take her home?”

“Yeah?” he hesitated.

“You’re coming with us,” Yalmay said, “you’re coming with us to the warren.”

“The magsman didn’t ask for me,” Joontah said. “He wanted you and he wanted Kylara. He didn’t say anything about me. And I’m fine with taking her home. Anyway, someone needs to stay behind and explain all this.” He gestured to the ground. “Imagine if someone saw all this and we had disappeared. Imagine what people would think.”

“We can leave a note,” Yalmay said. “Kylara has paper we can use.”

“I do not,” Kylara said.

“The entad that you use to fly?” Yalmay said. “That’s paper, isn’t it?”

Oh. That was technically true.

“Okay, but you are not using that to write on,” Kylara said. It was an entad. It was valuable. And she was planning on bringing it with her.

“I agree,” Joontah said. “I am fine with staying, really. Actually, I think I prefer it.”

“I don’t want to go without you,” Yalmay said. “Please.”

Joontah gave her a peck on the cheek. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “I know it. And I’ll see you soon.” He gave her a reassuring hug.

They were interrupted by Lenah’s singing. She had a very clear voice.

“What's that rustling in the trees?

A whisper carried on the breeze?

Who flutters there, under the old old moon, emerging from their silken cocoons?

Perhaps they gather, wait, and bide,

For the moment to slip inside.

And out they'll come, with menace and dread,

All longing for the day we're dead.”

Lenah stopped then brushed her hair back from her face, leaving smears of gwiyala stickiness across her ear and forehead. “Did you say Karryne will be there?” she asked. “Before, did you say Karryne will be there?”

“Where did you hear that song from?” Kylara asked.

“Will Karryne be there?” Lenah asked again.

“He’ll be waiting,” Joontah assured with a smile. He was good with children, Kylara thought. “But can you answer Kylara’s question? Where did you hear that song?”

Lenah frowned, as though the information was troubling. “I want to see him,” she said. Then she turned back around and kept picking at the dead gwiyala. Joontah cringed and looked away. “Help me,” he whispered to Yalmay.

“How?” Yalmay whispered back.

“If you want to see him, you should go now,” Kylara said.

“Why?” Lenah asked.

“Because…” Kylara desperately looked at her two companions for an explanation, hoping they would at least come up with a good lie.

“Because,” Yalmay looked at Joontah nervously. “Because he has a…”

“A desire to see you now?” Joontah finished lamely.

“Yes! Karryne said he really, really wanted to see you right now.”

“He didn’t say that,” Lenah dismissed.

“No, wait,” Yalmay said, “he has a gift to give you! Right?” Yalmay looked at Joontah, who nodded vigorously.

Lenah looked at the two of them with a cold glare and then resumed… whatever it was she was doing, singing to herself. It was a repetitive melody, and one Kylara thought she had heard before. She had a very clear voice. Very polished.

“Lenah,” Kylara said, “you never answered me. That song you are singing, do you know where it comes from?”

“I think…” she thought for a second, “I think it is from a prayer.”

“And do you know how that prayer ends?” Joontah asked. Kylara gave him a look. He was not being helpful. “It ends with you going home to your brother. Right now.”

“That doesn’t rhyme so I don’t believe you.” Lenah started singing again. “All longing for the day we're dead. I go home to my brother.” She frowned. “See?” she said. “It doesn’t rhyme.”

“All longing for the day we're dead, but Lenah will be safe in bed. With brother near, there’s nothing left for you to fear, for when you're with your brother, dear, the bugs and butterflies won't dare come near,” Yalmay finished. She shrugged and looked at Kylara. “Not too hard to make it rhyme.”

Lenah looked confused. “I don’t think that’s how it goes, but maybe I’m wrong.” She stood up for the first time since the attack. She was a bit wobbly on her knees, Kylara noticed. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen a Wanderer wobbly on their knees before. Wanderers were graceful or they were stiff. They were never clumsy.

“Wawiriya is just around the corner,” Joontah said.

“She is?” Kylara frowned. She quickly did a few warding equations to check. Wawiriya always wore a small ruby necklace and it was unique enough it was easy to track. Wawiriya had given her broad permission years ago to use it for tracking if Kylara ever needed to find her. She had never taken the necklace off since.

It took about thirty seconds to find her and by the time Kylara had, Wawiriya, along with Pemulabee and Janeyca, were already visible. Yalmay waved.

“We can wait until they come over and explain,” Yalmay said. She looked at Joontah. “Then you won’t need to stay. Janeyca and Wawiriya can look after Lenah.”

A flicker of something flashed on Joontah’s face. Jealously? Envy? Kylara wasn’t sure. He glanced at Wawiriya and then back to Yalmay. “I still think I’m going to stay,” he said. “You’ll be gone, what? An hour? Tell me all about it when you get back.”

“I don’t get it,” Yalmay said. “Why aren’t you coming? You’ve always wanted to see the warrens.”

“Do you ever turn to someone you know and then get really, really sad because they are dead?” Lenah asked.

They all turned to her. “Fucking hell, Lenah,” Kylara murmured.

Why wasn’t anyone watching her?

“I keep doing that except not with dead people. I think something, and then I turn. And all I think is emptiness.”

“Please put that down,” Kylara begged. Lenah had quietly picked up a gwiyala and was hugging it close to her chest, crushing the thing. Hemolymph was dripping down her legs. Her lips were also a bit shiny. Kylara really, really hoped she hadn’t been eating it.

“Good luck dealing with her,” Yalmay said. Joontah gave her a look. “No seriously, good luck. I mean it. I don’t understand why you are so insistent on doing it but I appreciate that you are taking care of her. It’s sweet.” Yalmay eyed the gwiyala corpse Lenah was still gripping tightly in an embrace. “You’ll need the luck,” Yalmay said.

Joontah sighed. “I know.”

Just then, Multhamurra said something, calling them over. Kylara wondered what had taken him so long. They were on his schedule, after all.

Yalmay and Joontah embraced one more time. This was their… third? Kylara thought. Their third hug in as many minutes. Gods, they were sappy as a couple.

Multhamurra said something else, probably something along the lines of, “I said I’m dying here,” she guessed, and Yalmay pulled away from her embrace and nodded.

“He says he can only do this once,” she said, “the warren is closed and he doesn’t have enough energy to go back and fetch us if we don’t go through.”

“Does he need us to go over there?” Kylara asked. Usually warblers were like warlocks. Touch wasn’t necessary but they had an easier time if everyone was connected by touch.

Yalmay translated.

“He says no–we can stay here.”

Multhamurra said something else.

“He says the gradient is shallow here–” Multhamurra pointed in the direction of Pemulabee–Kylara wondered what he would think of them disappearing right in front of him, “–but not over there,” Yalmay finished. “So don’t go over there.”

“I won’t,” Kylara said, and fuck that was another potential lie, why was she tripping over herself so much today? “I won’t for now,” she bit her tongue.

“We’re ready!” Yalmay shouted at the magsman.

Multhamurra nodded and put his thumb out in the air, feeling for something, like running a finger along the surface of an old desk to find a catch. Except the catch was in the fabric of reality. His thumb grazed against something, some fold or wrinkle that was imperceptible to the naked eye. Then he used another finger and started doing the same, grasping at more imagined points. The warblers called it weaving.

Kylara blinked as she switched to warder’s sight. The trees and the clearing disappeared, replaced by a vast gridwork of tiny points of light, the framework that underlaid all of the Down Under. It was better to watch like this. Translations were fascinating seen from warder’s sight.

There was already a bright spot in the grid pattern, a single tiny point that was glowing fiercely. So exact and sharp it was almost painful. As Kylara watched, the grid points surrounding it began to bend and stray from their alignment, tugged towards it.

She heard Yalmay gasp faintly beside her. The light around Multhamurra’s hands would be distorting by now, following the curve of distorted space like heat rising from a barren road.

The bright point intensified further, flaring almost painfully now. More points in the web were caught in its distortion, bending and twisting.

Then, all of a sudden, it happened. More points flickered and near ones were pulled towards each other, into the first. It grew brighter and brighter. Everything seemed to distort, propagating from the two points. Like a wave, or a ripple. Kylara always thought it looked a bit like an inversion, but what was inverting she was never really clear on. It took only a fraction of a second.

Kylara recited her name as she blacked out.