Cahya’s teacher was less than pleased with her performance. His mighty wing buffeted her form and sent her tumbling across the thick branch.

“Listen and feel, child. The ripples will guide your thoughts and voice. Again.” Swami Pramana’s voice was firm. “You have ears, let them hear.”

Cahya struggled to stand, but her body refused to cooperate. “Swami, why must I stand like you? I’m no owl!”

Pramana held out the same wing that admonished her as support and Cahya clung to it pitifully. Bats hang from branches, not stand upon them!

“Child, you were blessed by the Epiphy flower. You must cease thinking of yourself as a mere bat.” Pramana’s beak clacked as he enunciated every syllable. “You are what links your kind to mine. Transcend beyond your species, child, and focus upon the task at hand.”

Her legs ached as muscles strained to keep her upright, but Cahya forced herself to ignore their screaming. She needed to show progress, or she would not be allowed hunting tonight.

Just like last night.

It was much harder to concentrate when her entire body was adamant in voicing its displeasure at its treatment.

“Quiet your thoughts. Feel the air in your lungs, listen to its rhythm. In four, out four, in four, out four.” Cahya breathed in slowly, then exhaled just as slowly as she spoke. “The Ripple surrounds us, it guides us, it speaks to us.” She closed her eyes.

As her vision of the shadowy rain forest was closed off from her, Cahya expanded her other senses. The dampness of the air and loam caressed her nostrils and the soft air wisped about the tips of her wings. More importantly, the sounds of the forest grew clearer. Each being gave off their own unique vibration that added to the whole. Cahya relished in it as she opened herself to the Ripple.

was difficult. It built upon her foundations of and stretched them just like muscles. Cahya hummed pulse after pulse, seeking the harmonic key that she naturally exuded. Every beat of her heart sent waves throughout her body, each one a note on the Ripple. She adjusted the frequency, compressing her voice as she finally found a match.

Now for the hard part.

Cahya’s throat undulated as she attempted to weave a pattern that was directly opposed to herself. As she neared the correct melody, all of her aches and pains were heightened twofold, then threefold. Cahya steeled herself, placing her mind outside of her body lest she adapt and have to start the process all over again. Her humming was laborious but grew ever closer to her goal.

A particularly nasty wave of nausea seized her empty stomach and broke the weaving apart. Cahya fell to her stomach as she dry-heaved.

“Better than before.”

Cahya looked up at the pale face of her teacher with more than a little hope. “Does -ugh- does this mean I may be allowed to hunt tonight?”

Pramana’s face was stoic as he tilted his head to one side. “If a single day without food is enough to distract you, how will you fare before the Naga? Before the Musang? They will leap upon you from the branches, steal upon you as you sleep. Your will deter, but if they are hungry it will not be enough. Better to go undetected. Your practice now will save you from battle later.” His dark eyes grew softer. “Your mother was wise to teach you the basics, but I shall make them second nature.”

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“Perhaps I am too harsh. You are still but a child.” The Swami dismissed Cahya with a wave as he turned on the branch. “Go then. Fill your stomach.”

Cahya did not hesitate to rise and cast herself off the tree that they called home. She must hurry before the old owl changed his mind. Stretching out her wings, she felt them swell and cup the air. With a low hum, Cahya filled the space with energy and thrust downwards. Ripple fueled blasts of air propelled her forward towards her preferred hunting grounds. It was the season of the Belalang and their fat bodies would more than sate her.

As the air whipped under her, Cahya’s tongue rolled back in her mouth. A second overtone joined her humming, radiating outwards. The Swami called it “polyphonic” if she remembered the term correctly. Cahya’s mother just called it “dual harmonies”. Regardless of what it was called, it was a skill that Cahya had practiced relentlessly as a child. Only the most skilled Ripple practitioners could use two spells at once, and she had been determined to be of their number.

mixed with in a haunting keen that echoed off the vegetation and the forest floor, letting Cahya know when she flapped too close to a tree and where the other night hunters gathered. Many of her kind were finishing up with their hunts and returning to their nests. Their calls melded and enhanced each other as family called to one another. Only Cahya’s was different.

The Epiphy flower had bloomed the night that Cahya was born. A plant that lay dormant throughout the seasons, only opening on one single evening. Its white petals flowed like feathers and were regarded as sacred to the Owls. All that were born on that night belonged to them. Such was the accord. Dozens of newborns were carried and laid before the Owls to be consumed. Their tiny bodies only knew the warmth of their mothers for scant moments before being snuffed out to retain the peace of the forest.

Cahya was one such sacrifice and had been placed at Swami Pramana’s talons. But rather than gorge himself upon her flesh, he rested his tail feathers upon her tiny body. His coos and trills were triumphant as he announced her as Epiphy marked, for Cahya’s fur was as white as the flower. He had bid Cahya’s mother to reclaim her child until she was old enough to fly on her own. Then, Cahya would be returned to him as his claim.

Cahya’s mother had not bothered to name her. She simply gave her milk and taught her how to sing. There was little point in bonding when Cahya was to be pulled away again. Swami Pramana was the one to name her. “One who is the light in darkness” he said. Even still, Cahya’s mother had wept bitter tears when the day came that she had been returned to Pramana. Name or no, Cahya’s mother had birthed her and cradled her in her bosom. If she had only been born one day later, then Cahya would have grown up amongst her kind and her mother would not have lost her daughter.

A distinctive buzz was returned on Cahya’s senses and ripped her from her reverie. The sound leapt like its owner with rapid beats and cascaded back to the floor. Cahya would need to time her descent to catch her meal at the peak of its jump. She dropped the undertone in her voice and allowed to float away. Only remained, and Cahya increased its power with heaves of her lungs.

Now!

She dove and screamed.

A blast of compressed air slammed into the locust’s wings and sent it careening off its original path. Cahya twisted and flared her left wing to send herself into a spiral, her mouth gaping wide. As soon as her teeth met the Belalang’s hind leg, she bit down. The most divine flavor met her tongue as she opened her wings wide and allowed the skin between her fingers to billow and slow her descent. The Belaland hissed and struggled, but Cahya’s jaw was mighty.

She roosted upon a nearby branch and began her feast. The head was ripped off and thrown to one side to reveal the juicy innards. They poured down her eager throat as she ravaged the corpse. So engrossed in her meal was she that Cahya forgot one of the most important rules as a huntress bat.

Never roost where there are vines.

A great yellow eye opened amidst the green leaves and twists. Cahya froze, half of a leg dangling from her mouth, as primordial fear overtook her.

Naga.

But before the great serpent could strike, blackened talons struck down upon its head and dragged its coiled form from the branch. Mighty feet crushed its skull even as the onyx daggers pierced its brain. The Naga’s writhing body fell limp.

“Fool child!”

Cahya looked upon the furious upside-down countenance upon her Swami’s face.

“You forget everything for a single morsel?!” Pramana’s face was torqued in bitter wrath. “Return to the nest! You will not leave again until you learn!”

Cahya opened her claws and hurriedly bade her retreat. She would be hungry for a while longer.