Turin, radji Cradle ecologist.
Date [standardised human time]: February 8th, 2118
(18 years, 7 months, 26 days before the invasion of the radji Cradle).
Recently it seemed that Turin hardly slept at all. She was now a little over midway through her final trimester, and between the lack of sleep, the regular work of the estate, raising Ki-yu, and everything, it had been a gruelling pregnancy. When she could sleep, she was plagued with nightmares. Last night she had dreamt that she sat atop a great dark egg in a gloomy forest, a beam of light from Ki-ra above was all that illuminated her. She knew with the certainty of dreams that should she fall from the nest into the darkness, the egg would never hatch. Around her, half hidden in the gloom, pyq prowled. These were adults, all rippling muscle and assured swagger, their claws crunching through leaves as they chattered and laughed to one another. The egg cracked open, and Turin was swallowed down, and down, and down, and down into inky blackness. Wind and water howled about her as she fell, and beneath her a vile storm, wild and ferocious raged. As the water came up to reach her, she knew her boat was somewhere below, if she could just find it-!
Turin had woken shaking to find her quills lodged deep into her bedding.
The others were fairing a little better. Ki-yu had been sullen and nervous before her visit to the cave. Now she was… not exactly buoyant, but certainly more like her enthusiastic self. Braq, normally steadfast and wry, was now quiet, and reserved. Something about their excursion had unnerved him, although he would not say what. It was as though the pair had swapped.
At the very least, Braq seemed to be putting that nervous energy to use. He had spent the last week or so putting the finishing touches onto the new room and had taken the opportunity to add a little more to Ki-yu’s hidden space as well. For one, both rooms now had dedicated beds, rather than the pile of pillows and blankets Ki-yu had been sleeping on. They had also installed some shelves, and she had taken to stashing curiosities she collected from the forest there. So far, she had collected several types of leaf, a few interesting rocks, and some loose feathers which she delighted in comparing the pretty colours. She had even morbidly collected a piece of bone, from what Turin was not sure. At first, Turin was a little worried and insisted that she wash both her paws and the bone thoroughly. But over time it became clear that her daughter did not take any perverse joy in the small fragment, but rather a kind of strange reverence. She kept it on a different shelf from the rest of her collection, and whilst she would gladly show off any other item, she seemed to keep that one to herself.
Turin had spent the morning performing check-ups on the shadow monitors and the vexise. The former seemed to be far more sluggish at this time of year, piling up together in large scaly mounds. Whilst the weather was yet to approach the true winters chill, Turin remembered the near miss of the last perigee and how they had lost so many to the cold. In the future they would have to either rebuild part of their predator dens or build up the breeding program so that each generation was released before winter. Both would be tremendous undertakings, but even that issue seemed trivial next to the enigma of the vexise.
Some species, Turin knew, were resistant to efforts to breed them in captivity. In some cases, this was due to the only potential mates available being deemed undesirable by their companions, in others the climate was unfavourable. A few were fastidious in nature and required environmental indicators to be in the right proportions before they felt comfortable to mate. But never had Turin heard of a single vexise that did not want to breed, let alone fourteen. They were selected as pets for a reason, their fast-breeding rate being a major selling point. They were a pain to feed too, always scrapping with one another whenever food was put in the pens. More than a few boasted scars from their melees, and Turin often had to wrestle them from one another, lest they cause serious damage.
Feeling fatigued from wading into another spat, Turin retired to the living room to see if she could find any useful information between their books and the DataNet. Finding the net connection to be too slow, Turin was partway through a scandalously detailed chapter in Irredia’s Reproductive Processes when Ki-yu rushed inside. The day had been oddly sunny, so she was not wearing her raincoat. She was also standing upright, which was different for her, and grinning happily to herself. Ki-yu’s dark scales were getting darker still, now almost by the day. Braq had suggested that she may have some form of melanism, onset now that her infant colours were waning. One day, Turin thought, she may be jet black. Otherwise, she was decidedly still a child, lacking the hardened scales and muscle that haunted Turin’s dreams. Her hands were wrapped together, and she held them out to Turin with a giggle.
“Look what I found Mama!” she announced. Setting her book down, Turin leaned over.
“What treasure have you got now?” she said as she cupped her daughter’s hands in her paws. Carefully, she peeled back her fingers, and Turin almost jumped back in alarm. Sitting inside was a terrified little fiirit. Its membranous wings were wrapped around its tiny furry head, a pair of ears and large eyes wobbling behind the limbs. It seemed to be in such fright that Turin was not sure if it was breathing.
“Ki-yu…” Turin said, half a gasp, half a groan.
“Isn’t he pretty?” she said happily. “Touch his fur, it’s so soft!” Turin smiled warily, wondering if she or the small mammal were more nervous.
“He is… but he’s also quite scared,” she told her. Ki-yu looked down at the cowering thing in her paws. Turin gave the fiirit a closer inspection and was surprised to find that other than a nasty case of shock, it was in good health. Well, at least this one’s in better condition than the last one she caught. Her daughter caught onto her inspection, and her mood turned more morose.
“I was careful,” she said. “I made sure I wouldn’t hurt him.”
“I can see that,” Turin said softly, using a tone that hinted at praise. “And whilst I must admit that I’m excited to actually hold one, I must ask, why you wanted to catch him in the first place?” Ki-yu shrugged at her, her mood no longer happy. I should have done this differently…
“How did you make sure you didn’t hurt him?” she asked, trying to coax some excitement into her voice. Ki-yu looked up at her beneath her brows, the look of a child trying to work out if they were in trouble or not. She sighed and, smiling down at the girl, took the fiirit from her. “Ki-yu,” Turn said, “I’m not mad at you, I’m actually quite interested.” Heaving herself up, she nodded to the door. “C’mon, show me how you caught him.”
Ki-yu, it turned out, had been watching this fiirit for some time. She led Turin to a small tree sitting at the forests edge. The fiirit’s nest rested on a high branch, silhouetted against the grey sky. Sitting at the foot of the tree was a small mound of freshly picked berries, as well as a large round bowl.
“Is… that one of my cooking bowls?” Turin asked.
“Yup!” Ki-yu said happily. Turin suppressed a snort.
“I see.” Ki-yu bent down and picked up a few berries from the pile, which she then offered to the fiirit in Turin’s paws. The little mammal, having apparently accepted its new lot in life, snuffled at the morsel before tucking in. Ki-yu giggled at it as it licked her fingers.
“He likes the berries see! So, I put them near his tree and put the bowl over him when he came to eat them!” She snickered to herself, her sharp teeth flashing behind her lips. Well, it clearly worked…
“Where did you get the idea for the bowl?”
“Baba told me.”
“He… huh?” What the hell is he thinking? She could have killed the poor thing. “What exactly did you ask him?”
“How to catch a fiirit. At first, he thought I meant to, you know, eat it, but when I told him that I just wanted to look at it he suggested the bowl. The berries were my idea!” Ki-yu said proudly.
“Clever girl,” she said, passing Ki-yu the fiirit again. Turin bent down and scooped up the bowl, finding it was filled with dirt. She was going to chastise the little pyq but stopped when she saw the strange look in Ki-yu’s eyes as she fed the fiirit another berry.
“Can… I ask you a hard question?” Turin said as she squatted down in front of her. Ki-yu nodded, and let the mammal lick up the last of the berries from her hand. “Do you want to eat the fiirit?”
“I… don’t know Mama,” she said awkwardly, rubbing her neck with her now berry-free paw. “I mean… I do, but I don’t. Does that make sense?” Is this our doing, or is this truly her? Turin wondered. Is this doubt something we’ve created, or is it something that would be there naturally?
“You’re… scared of it?” Turin realised. “Scared of hunting?” Ki-yu pouted glumly, screwing up her dark eyes. The expression looked strange on her reptilian features.
“… scared of hurting.” She said it so softly it was barely heard. “Baba said it’d be okay to hunt, and that I’ll need to one day. But… It’s like… I could eat him right now.” Her clawed fingers ran gently through the mammal’s fur as she held it. “And there’s a part of me that wants to, that’s really curious.” Her mouth hung open for a long moment, and she only had eyes for the prey in her grip. Turin found she could not breathe, could not move.
Ki-yu opened her hand, and the fiirit flew up into the tree. Turin let out her breath. Is that relief or disappointment in her eyes?
“But Baba also said I can’t let curiosity control me,” Ki-yu whispered as she wiped her paws together before plopping down onto her haunches. “If curiosity is the only reason I have to hurt, then that is not enough.” Turin nodded, somewhere between sad and proud. She’s growing up too fast, she thought as she ran her paw over her daughter’s head.
“You have no right being so clever so young,” Turin told her and got a wolfish smile in return. “But next time, can you try not to use my cooking bowls?”
~*~
Braq had done a good job Turin thought, working tirelessly to clear out the bedrock, reinforce, and finally do all the carpentry for the new room. They still had a few weeks to spare before the child was due, yet he seemed to revel in the distraction of the work, almost back to his calm and collected self. Braq was assembling a rocking chair with his broad back to her when she entered the room. How she wanted to rub her paws across that gorgeous, muscled form. I’m not looking for a fight, she reminded herself.
“How’s it going?” she began, conversationally.
“It’s getting there,” he grunted, flexing the separate seat portion in his paws. “I think it’ll need some cushions and a nice blanket.” He looked around and smiled at her, which she returned. “What do you think?” he said, gesturing to the whole room. It was quite homely she thought, the corners and floorboards having been polished to a nice sheen. The slit of a window where the wall just breached above ground was a nice touch and added some natural light to this otherwise dim section of the lodge. The bed even had a nice new set of blankets that they had bought, and she sat down with the now washed bowl down on it. Braq looked a little perplexed at first but quickly caught on.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Did she catch it?” he asked.
“Yes,” Turin said slowly.
“Did she…”
“She didn’t want to hurt it. She let it go.”
“Did she? Hm.” He smiled faintly.
“She lured it in with berries,” Turin continued.
“Hm,” was all he had to say, his paws playing with a ratchet. Is he… disappointed?
“Why did you encourage this?” she said, holding up the bowl. His brow furrowed, like he didn’t understand the question.
“Do you think it’s a bad idea for our daughter to explore nature?”
“Do you think it’s a good idea to teach our daughter to kill?!” Turin pressed, going for the heart of the issue. Braq just shook his head, turning back to the chair.
“We’ve been over this, she’ll have to hunt someday, she should learn it right.”
“But now?! Braq, she’s not even a year old!” he shrugged his massive shoulders.
“Do you think pyq live on fruit and roots for their first year?” he asked rhetorically. “And it’s not like she’s developing at the same rate as a radji. She’s at least two or three times ahead of where this one will be in a year’s time.”
“She’s still a little girl!” Turin said, standing from the bed and casting the bowl aside. “I’ve never known you to be so cold!” He sighed and turned to face her, and Turin realised he was not angry, or even disappointed, but instead concerned.
“I… was worried that today would be the day,” he admitted, not meeting her eyes and fidgeting with his paws. “But she’s going to have to learn sooner or later. The best way we can look after her is by teaching her to look after herself.” Turin calmed a little and tried a different approach.
“I just… don’t know if we should be encouraging it is all. Wasn’t the whole point of this so that we could see if she wanted to hunt instinctively?” Braq blinked at her.
“I thought the point of this was to raise a child?” he said. “I made a promise.” Damn him.
“Braq, of course this is about raising a child, don’t twist my words!”
“We need to teach her now!” he barked with a step towards her. “To protect her!”
“All we’ve done is protect her!” Turin yelled. “Locked her inside or sent her off on her own into the wilderness! She has known nothing but our love and isolation!”
“You know what’s out there!” he hissed. “And I don’t just mean roht and fucking Juran! She walks down any street in the world, and she will be killed! How can she live without us if she doesn’t know what she’s capable of?! She is a predator!” Turin’s stomach twisted.
“You didn’t see the look in her eyes Braq! She’s confused! Terrified! Not just of everything else, but of herself! Of the part of herself that wants it!”
“Turin…”
“But she’s still our daughter! And maybe that means-”
“Turin!” Braq yelled, and through her own anger, she saw the fear on his face as he looked down at her feet. Turin looked down and felt the slickness on her fur. Her water had broken.
“Shit…” she whispered, rubbing the moisture between her fingers as though that would make it go away.
“It’s early…” Braq said.
~*~
Turin tried to sleep, but the contractions kept her awake. Instead, she had sent Braq away to supply her with constant painkillers and tea. Whether or not Ki-yu had overheard their argument, Turin could not say, but she had been wary of them both since the labour had begun. She slept on some cushions in the corner of the room, wrapped in blankets, with Spike half in her mouth. It had been a few hours since the labour had started, and she had long since fallen asleep. Having readied a kettle to warm wet cloths and blankets, Braq lay next to her on their bed awaiting the birth.
“How’d you feel?” he asked for the fifth time.
“Pregnant,” she replied dryly.
“Hopefully not for too much longer,” he jested, “this is taking all day.” She smacked him playfully on the shoulder. Isn’t it strange how so much of real love is in the ways we annoy one another? Turin mused.
“I love you, you know?” she said suddenly.
“I know,” he whispered. “I’m rather fond of you too.” It was another joke, but there was a profound sincerity along with the tears in his eyes.
“Bastard,” she murmured, grinning at the silly man. He chuckled with her, and they nuzzled.
“I’m sorry for being such an ass earlier,” he said quietly.
“It’s okay,” Turin replied. “We both just want what’s best for her.” Braq nodded against her but remained deep in thought. “What you said earlier, about wanting her to know what she’s capable of?” Turin whispered to her partner, putting a paw on his chest. “I think she does, or at least has some idea.” She kept her voice low, careful not to wake Ki-yu. “You should have seen her, Braq. She wanted to eat it, she was almost desperate to. But she just…” Turin mimed opening her paw above her, “…let it go.” Braq pressed out his lips thoughtfully.
“Do you think, not being accusing here, that if you weren’t there she would have?”
“No,” Turin said, shaking her head. “As a scientist, putting aside my own feelings: no. she said that she believed her curiosity wasn’t reason enough to kill.” Braq nodded, his paw caressing the fur on her chest.
“That’s… good,” he said at last, and the sigh that escaped his mouth was almost a sob. “I’m sorry…” Braq whispered, stroking her belly gently. “I just want to know that she’ll be okay.”
“I know,” Turin whispered back. “You know we’ve had this conversation before. You say she should hunt; I worry about what that will turn her into. But maybe that’s not the point.” She sighed and nuzzled against him. “Maybe we can’t change her beloved, but at this point I don’t think I- Argh!” Turin was stopped mid-sentence as an arc of pain stabbed into her abdomen. Braq sat up, concerned.
“Contraction?” he asked.
“I don’t know…” she murmured, “I think so. That one hurt.” Seeing the worried look on his face she playfully patted him on the paw. “I think they’re meant to hurt, darling.” She picked up her teacup and tried to relax again. “What was I saying? Oh- I don’t think we should be looking to change her. If she’s going to hunt, it must be of her own volition. Wasn’t that the whole point of this?” she said. “Other than caring for her. I made that promise too,” she added with a caring pat.
“We’re not exactly running a straightforward experiment here,” he told her in a kind and gentle tone. “Our presence has and continues to alter her. But you’re right, it has to be her choice.” He turned to her and looked deep into her eyes. “And yes, I love you too. Very much.” Turin snuffled, and went to kiss him, but a bayonet seemed to puncture her guts, and her kiss almost became a headbutt.
“a-ARGH!” she cried out, and Ki-yu woke with a start. The contractions began in earnest then, each was accompanied by a fresh stabbing sensation.
“It’s starting,” Braq told Ki-yu and set the cloth kettle boiling. With each contraction a new lance of pain tore through her.
As Braq positioned himself below her, she saw him steel himself at the sight.
“You don’t normally make that face,” Turin half-japed. Braq made a grimaced and lent forward with a cloth in paw. Turin winced at it’s warm and wet feeling.
“You’re bleeding quite a lot,” he said. A new spear plunged into her belly, and Turin choked back a scream.
“Something’s wrong!” she told them.
“I-I’ll call for help!” Braq stood, but Turin stopped him.
“No! Too late,” she wheezed. “We’re on our own.”
Turin howled as the life within her fought to be without. The pain killers were either out of date or ineffective. Each contraction felt like a new knife in her womb, twisting as the child passed through her. Turin cursed and begged; her throat ragged from her screams. She writhed about, gripping onto the bed for some purchase, but the wood tore away from the wall when she wrenched against it. Her world blurred into one of pain and sobs and tears.
“Fight Turin!” she heard Braq implore her. “You’re strong enough, c’mon!” In her delirium, Turin’s head broke water, and she clambered aboard her boat. It rocked against the razor-sharp edges of coral reefs, the sea a tempest of blood beneath her. She was vaguely aware of Ki-yu’s shaking form beside her on the deck as Braq fought against the tide.
“We love you, Mama,” she whispered into Turin’s ear, clear above the storm. “You can do this.”
Turin lost all sense of the passage of time and knew only blades in the darkness of the storm. The cloths had started turning cold when Braq gave out a gasp and pulled her mind back to some semblance of awareness.
“I see it!” Braq cried, Turin gritted her teeth and bore down against the pain, her thighs sticky with blood. The final push was an agony, and she wailed as Braq pulled the child from her. Her insides felt shredded, as if a pyq had violated her with a viscous clawed hand. “Oh Protector!” Braq cursed. Between pain and blurred vision, she looked down. Braq held a tiny, bloodied, and wriggling new-born boy in his arms, but something was wrong with his head.
“Wh- why…?” she grunted, finding she had the strength for nothing else. Ki-yu crept closer to Braq looking up at the little boy with wide and fearful eyes.
“Why isn’t he screaming?!” Turin gasped. Braq quickly, but carefully placed him down on the bed beneath her.
“Fuck!” he yelled, “Scissors!” and without further explanation ran from the room. Where’s he going? Turin wondered feebly. Ki-yu remained where she stood, panting quickly as she watched the infant radji thrash about on the bed.
“Wh- what’s wrong?!” Turin wheezed as she tried and failed to prop herself up on an elbow. Pain still ripped through her, and she knew she was still bleeding. Ki-yu swallowed, her body trembling with shock.
“There’s… something on his face.” she said numbly.
With a terrible clarity Turin understood. Infant radji’s bristled backs were usually covered by a membrane in utero, so that the underdeveloped but still sharp quills did not damage the mother. In rare cases the membrane may slip, and usually a caesarean section is administered. To her horror she realised that the membrane had not only slipped causing an agonising birth, but that it had wrapped about her son’s head and was now smothering him.
The bed was wet and sticky with blood beneath her. The boy writhed on his back down past her feet, the umbilical cord stretched out between them; to be connected, and yet unable to touch him, help him… Turin howled out in a profound agony worse than her labour. Turin felt broken, her body ravaged and pathetic. Yet still she fought to sit up, to claw herself to her son, rebelling against her tears, revolting against her weakness. “Help him!” she begged herself, she begged the whole world and the stars beyond. “Help him!”
And suddenly, blessedly, Ki-yu was on him.
Her clawed hands probed desperately around the flesh covering his face, searching for an opening. Braq ran back into the room in time to gasp as Ki-yu took an edge and tore at it with her jaws. The membrane gave way, ribbons of Turin’s own flesh becoming lodged in Ki-yu’s teeth. As the shredded tissue was ripped away, the boy’s perfect face was revealed. That face was a bloody purple, and he still gasped for air. Ki-yu stopped spitting out membranous pulp as she saw he still struggled.
“It’s in his throat!” she cried, and without any hesitation she thrust her slender fingers into his breathless mouth. Braq ran forward and held the squirming new-born still. Bloodied teeth gritted, Ki-yu found some purchase, and with an audible grunt of effort pulled a foamy, bloody bolus from the boy’s throat. Hastily, Braq lifted him up, and gave him a sharp smack over the back.
“Breathe boy!” he roared.
If Ki-yu’s eyes on that starry night had been the most beautiful thing Turin had ever seen, then that first howling, desperate breath was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.
Their son breathed raggedly, and he began to cry.
~*~
It took a healthy dose of new pain killers to numb Turin to the result of her torment. Braq had spent a long time beneath her, examining her torn flesh. They were lucky that none of the quills had broken off or had pierced into her abdomen; had the boy not arrived a little early, the bristles might have been longer. A strange blessing, Turin thought. Still, it would take a long time to heal properly. Braq had called a hovercar to take the three of them to a hospital in the morning to check for any lasting damage. Unfortunately, Ki-yu would have to stay home alone.
Turin was still too weak to move, and so she lay in the bloodied sheets, Braq applying warm cloths to her as he wiped away the muck of birth. Her tiny son slept in her arms. His fur was the same caramel brown as Turin’s, and whilst he would be slighter than his father, he had the same wide frame.
Ki-yu had retired to the cushions in the corner of the room and watched the little radji with her head on her paws. Turin smiled at her, grateful for her quick thinking; any longer and he may have suffered brain damage, or worse.
“What are you thinking about sweetheart?” she asked, her voice worn out.
“That was really gross Mama,” she said. Turin laughed and regretted it as pain rippled through her. Ki-yu saw her wince and let out a soft keen. “It must’ve really hurt too…” she said in almost a whisper. Turin looked down at the little life in her arms, then up at the family around her.
“Some hurts are worth it. But I suppose an egg is a bit easier,” she chuckled. She gestured for Ki-yu to come closer. “Come, have a look at him.” The predator looked to Braq as he worked and then back to her, as though asking for permission. She rose and timidly approached on all fours, still keeping her distance. Her eyes went the boy’s cheek just above his lips; where she had bitten the membrane away a tooth had left a light scar. She grumbled slightly as she sat by the bed.
“I hurt him…” she whispered.
“You saved him,” Braq said, as he twisted the blood from a towel. “I would have been too late.”
“And we wouldn’t have been able to get it from his throat in time.” Turin told her running her paw over the pyq’s comparatively slender digits. She weakly pulled her up onto the bed and kissed her repeatedly on the forehead. “My sweet brave girl, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Ki-yu closed her eyes and, curling up against them, purred. Finally, she allowed herself to approach the baby, and gave the new-born a cursory sniff.
“How does he smell?” Turin giggled tiredly, looking down at his soft shape. Ki-yu blinked, unsure of how to answer.
“…alive,” she said at last. “Very much alive. Have you thought of a name?”
“I think… Imdi. Yes… Imdi.” Turin put her head back and let the darkness take her. For the first time in weeks, she slept soundly.
---
“Suddenly you’re ripped into being alive. And life is pain, and life is suffering, and life is horror, but my god you’re alive and its spectacular.”
– Joseph Campbell.