The peaks of Yushir shone white and grey like the bones of a giant, crowned by the light of the sun, the Songbringer. Snow had covered the treetops during the night, which now dribbled and weeped towards the ground like rain. The first morning birds had started chirping, the song of life and light waking him from his light sleep.

The boy was numb and cold, but thankfully still alive. He looked around before making any sudden moves, as any responsible hunter would do. The last thing a hunter wanted to do was scare any creature that had crawled over them during the night. A scared creature was dangerous and dangerous creatures were aplenty in these lands. Thankfully, nothing threatening was on him, so he climbed back up the tree's branch and started untying the rope holding him to it. It required great practice to learn to sleep while hanging in the air, but it protected him from the beasts roaming the ground.

His sleep had been fitful, but that was expected from a hunter. The incense he brunt each night as tribute to the Songbringer hide his smell from the beasts of the night and filled his mind with visions of the spirit world. He dared not sleep without a tribute lest he wanted the creatures of the night sky to choose him for their feast.

He covered the tribute with rugs and took a long look around him, carefully planning his next moves. From his vantage point, he could see over most of the sea of white treetops, pointing towards the sky as if racing each other to reach it. But the sky belonged to the Songbringer, who had now risen over the mountains and his light shone brightly. He always seemed to shine brighter on the cold days. Towards the east, the Yushir Mountains rose like guardians, a guide back to his home village. All around him, endless trees and snow, stretching as far as the eye could see.

He was out on a hunt for the past four days and Jarasha, the Hunting Song, lasted ten at most. He had six more days to bring back a worthy hunt and be named a man and a hunter. Otherwise, he would have to abandon the path of the hunter and choose another for his life, branded as weak forever.

So far, he had found only a deer, which he had cooked and covered with salt rationed into pieces for the journey, and a few kaolun, who had attacked him during the first night, and their fangs now hung around his neck in a makeshift medallion. He could have turned back and present these as the token of his worth, but kaolun were easy to kill and he wanted to earn the favor of the Worldsinger himself. He needed something bigger. He needed to be a great hunter like his mother.

He took his bow and arrows and climbed down the tree, borrowing into the thick forest. Down below, the cold drops of melted snow pelted him like rain. He closed his eyes and let the sounds of the forest guide him to his hunt, letting his mind hear the Rhythm. He begun to subtly sing the Hunter Song, continuing from where he had left off yesterday night, the song fast, focused, urging him forward, calling to his every sense.

He began to run, sliding over the uneven ground, jumping over long roots and large boulders. It was just before the midday rest that he finally found something of interest. A single footprint, deep in the ground, carrying a lot of weight behind it. Yet the strange thing was that no other mark followed it or led to it. Just a single footprint in the dirt.

As he stood there contemplating on the strange track, he saw a silverbeak fly overhead, clicking its hard beak in its characteristic metallic sound. These small birds always brought good luck, their song a blessing to those fortunate to hear it. Whether it was that reassurance or simple curiosity, he decided to find the owner of the sole footprint.

He ate on the road, always mindful to eat quickly to not attract any unwanted beasts by the smell, following the direction of the footprint, traveling north. He found the next footprint more than a hundred steps away, this one the mark of the other foot.

His mind raced like his feet, trying to determine what he was following. The mystery of it made it all the more enticing to catch. He dreamed of the day he would return to the village with the mark of a hunt no one had ever done before and his mother would be proud at last.

The third footprint was on top of a vine covered rock, a mark of a dirty sole on its surface. From the quick inspection, he noticed the creature this belonged to had no more than three toes, even if the shape was roughly like his own.

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This search continued for the rest of the day, occasionally finding a single footprint that guided him to the next and the next. He had started to see the creature in his mind's eye; a proud tall figure, with legs that stretched over the trees, a posture that made even the ferocious Ayaferash cower down. He came up with the name Skylegs, and it stuck with him.

He only stopped this focused pursuit when the Songbringer was leaning towards the west, the shadows long and the sounds of the forest waning to rest. He hadn't noticed the passage of time, and noted to himself to be more focused in the coming day. Five more days until the end of the song. Should I just return with the kaolun teeth? Edisho did just that and is now a hunter... he wondered as he climbed up a tree and tied himself to a sturdy branch.

The following morning, he found the tribute toppled down, and he thanked the Lifesong he was still alive to see it and not the creature that did it. The cold was even more frigid this day, the snow didn't begin to melt as the Songbringer rose to the sky. He was thankful for that; snow was good for a hunter. And, indeed, he immediately spotted a single footprint. The strange thing, however, was that the mark was directly below his tree. The snow had not yet covered it; not a lot of time had passed since someone was here. And yet, now that he looked around, the Skylegs was nowhere to be seen.

He began to wonder if some spirit was playing him for a fool, if perhaps he had angered the Songbringer and was now cursed to wondered the forests in an endless hunt. He decided to risk losing some of the precious time he still had to complete the Jarasha, the hunt to become a man, and try to soothe any anger he had caused the Songbringer.

He sat next to the sole footprint, the snow freezing his legs and bottoms. He carefully placed his bow and quiver next to him, and his knife in front of him. With deference, he took the two Konoshio from his bag, each the length of his knife. He had carved and hollowed them out himself before setting out for his hunt. Each hunter carried a pair; they were the weapons used to drive away evil spirits, the Muted Ones, those that inhabit the Plains of Whispers and leave the world in silence.

With one in each hand, he began to strike them against each other, hitting each of the carved indentations with great precision, each one emitting a different note. The notes mingled together with the sound of the forest, with the rustling of the leaves, with the chirp of the birds, with the howling of the wind caressing him, and he began to sing away the evil spirit.

He sang until his lungs ached and his legs were numb from the cold. He slowly opened his eyes and let his Konoshio next to his knife.

His heart missed a beat and he scrambled back, his instincts thankfully kicking in and making him take his knife before doing so. Someone was standing quietly in front of him, one leg on the ground, the other crossed.

With his sudden movement, the other person jerked up and with a long jump, was behind the closest tree. Hesitantly, the boy stood up, the knife still clutched in his cold hand and approached the rest of his weapons, which were laying intact in their place. Whoever this person was, they clearly weren't from this land. No one was allowed to come close to a Konoshio Song, lest they risked the spirits the singer drives away land on them as their next target.

The boy kept his gazed fixed on where the mysterious person vanished behind the tree, and was surprised to find them cautiously poking their head out.

They were surely from another land, their hairless head pale and their eyes two small blue bids. He had heard others of his kind had lighter skin, especially those living closer to the deserts of the south, but he had only met them through his father's songs.

He held out his knife in an open palm, the other person recoiling back behind the tree's cover.

"Don't be afraid, pale stranger", he said and sheathed his knife, "Come closer".

The boy took a few steps towards the stranger, yet angled to the side so he too was close to cover. While you should make allies in the forests, you should be ready for enemies, he repeated one his mother's teachings.

The stranger seemed to understand, as they shyly walked around the tree, leaving their cover. And the boy froze.

The creature in front of him was utterly hairless and they didn't have the characteristic pointy ears of the boy's race, nor the rounder ones of the korgans. Instead, their ears seems to extend to the sides like frills, the skin of those frills thin with a soft blue tone. The creature was also tall and lanky, with legs slightly longer than people should have, the body utterly naked yet without any discernible characteristics of any gender, no navel in their abdomen, no genitals whatsoever, just flat skin. But that was not what drove the boy's heart to his mouth. The creature's strangely long legs had three toes each.

"Skylegs..." the boy mumbled and stepped back, his hand reaching for his bow.

In a flash, the Skylegs ducked down and jumped, rushing to the sky as far up as the tallest tree in a blur, vanishing through the thick canopy of leaves. What was left was only the unmistakable footprints and the rustling on the canopy leaves above. The boy berated himself for acting so hastily, but scolding and murmuring wouldn't bring the Skylegs back. Grumpily, he packed his few things and continued his journey.