Ki-yu, the little huntress.
Date [standardised human time]: September 8th, 2118
(17 years, 11 months, 26 days before the invasion of the radji Cradle).
Ki-yu closed in. The huntress padded through the shady undergrowth, her lithe body being kept close to the cool soil. It was dark beneath the canopy, but a little light filtered through the trees and the loosely packed shrubbery. The scent was faint, almost overpowered by the sappy smell of the trees. Her stomach grumbled. Ahead, she could just hear her target breathing with haste, a furry form partially hidden behind a tree. Whole hunts depended on moments like these, the final crawl that seemed to stretch out forever. Ki-yu had learned how close she could get before prey would often spot her, finding just the right distance to attack. She kept her feet close together, each step cautious and calculated. She was so close now, her mouth salivating. I can smell it, oh please… Every muscle was held taught, begging for that oh so delightful pounce. She edged up to the tree and heard the breathing falter for a half-second.
As she sprang round the trunk, her prey’s eyes caught sight of her, and the predator’s muscles sang as she sprung. She tackled him about his middle, and he had enough time to let out a delectable squeal as they sailed a short distance through the dim air. They rolled across the forest floor; once, twice, thrice, until Ki-yu, outweighing her quarry by a sizeable margin, pinned him down by the shoulders. Her tail swaying slowly behind her, she leaned forward, her sharp teeth spreading into a grin a fraction from his nose.
“Got you!” she laughed, and Imdi groaned beneath her.
“No fair, Ku!” he choked out, half in discomfort, half in play. “Use nose!” Ki-yu rolled her eyes.
“It’s on the end of my snout, dingus, of course I used my nose!” She leaned back off him, squatting on her haunches, and stretching out her sinuous forearms against the ground. Her neck made a satisfying pop as she twisted, and she revelled in the exhilarating shudder of a successful chase. She scratched at the old scar on her flank with a foot, regarding her brother with light-hearted eyes. “As you knew I would.”
The boy sat up, looking himself over. Ki-yu was always careful not to claw him in their play, but she had been spiked by him more times than she could count. He grinned impishly.
“Smell?” he asked, gesturing down at his dirty and unkempt fur. Must have rolled about beneath half the trees in the forest, she thought with a snort. Pieces of twigs, leaves, bark, and flower petals were wedged into his fur where tree sap had been rubbed in. Mama’s going to faint at the sight. Ki-yu stuck her tongue out at him.
“Yes…” she admitted. “It was very clever, almost didn’t smell you. Almost.” She thrust out her hand palm up. “But I win! Gimme!” Fairly, Imdi retrieved the packet of sylphberries from his pack and dropped a few into her paw. “C’mon, more than that!” she whined.
“Baba said make you sick,” he grumbled. She pouted at him, wobbling her lip in false sadness. He giggled and gave her a few more, and Ki-yu wolfed down the scrumptious sun-orange fruit. Imdi had a few as well, but he did not seem to enjoy them as much as she did. She relished the sugary-sweet taste, ignoring the groaning in her stomach. Baba’s right, they do make me sick… but I don’t care! She plucked a piece of the skin out from between her teeth with a claw, flicking it to the forest floor.
Imdi winced quietly. Ki-yu looked over to see that one of his quills had snapped against the ground and was now sitting in his side. Whoops. Maybe I went too hard with him.
“Sorry,” she murmured, kneeling beside him, and retrieving her knife from where it was strapped to her leg. “Here, hold still.” She flipped out the blade and carefully held the fur away with it whilst she pulled the spike free. It had only barely scratched him, just grazing the skin. She licked her finger and rubbed the scrape. “Sorry,” she said again, returning the knife to its sheath.
“S’okay,” Imdi said, rubbing his shins where he sat with a grin. “One day, I’ll find you!”
“No way!” Ki-yu panted. “I’m too sneaky!”
Ki-yu’s radio buzzed into life before he could retort.
“Eco 1 to Eco 3, have you finished throwing Eco 4 around?” Mama’s staticky voice called out. Barking out laughter, Ki-yu held down the talk button and broadcast her brother’s indignant protest.
“No fair! She cheated! ‘Throw me around…’” he huffed.
“Play nice little ones,” their mother chided through the radio. “And start heading home before it gets too late.”
“See you soon!” Ki-yu laughed into the radio and returned it to her leg-belt. “C’mon,” she said, “let’s get home.” She held out a paw with a smile which Imdi took, and she pulled him to his feet. Scenting the air, she caught a gust of that familiar smoky smell that told her the parents had started cooking and followed her nose.
Ki-yu decided to stretch her legs, standing up and striding beside Imdi. She knew from experience that she was far more comfortable on all fours, but there was something about towering over her brother that she enjoyed. Whilst the day was warm the forest offered shade; the bright summer sun hidden behind the canopy. The forest had seemed to be safer lately, Ki-yu reflected, her hand absently brushing against her scars. There had been no sign of the roht that had attacked her, nor the men they suspected to have released them for whole seasons. The girl and her parents had ranged further south in the intervening months, setting up motion-activated camera traps and mapping the terrain. It’s easy to forget that there’s a world beyond these trees, given how far they spread.
The siblings strolled between bushes, briefly exploring some large mossy rocks, and hopped from stone to stone across a gentle stream, chatting easily with one another as they went. They talked about Mama and Baba, about the forest and its animals, and the games they could play. One of their favourites was the sneaky rock game. In the storeroom, Baba kept a pair of tough walking boots, the kind that radji’s usually saved for when they were doing dangerous work or walking somewhere uncomfortable. Every day they would each sneak home a rock and place it in their shoe. Ki-yu was currently winning, the left shoe being slightly fuller than the right, and so Imdi was trying to collect larger and larger stones. It was a chancy strategy, made all the riskier by the fact that once they were discovered the game was over, and the fullest shoe wins. Personally, Ki-yu could not wait.
Imdi was clearly not a new-born anymore, but he still had his limits. They were on the last stretch out of the woods when he started complaining.
“My legs hurt,” Imdi whined.
“You said you were big enough now that you don’t need carrying anywhere.”
“I am!” he protested, fiddling with a stick that had firmly lodged itself in his fur. “Ku pounced me.”
“You wanted me to find you, I found you,” she said, and he giggled beside her.
“Ow! So hurt!” he cried out playfully. He began faking a limp, his breathing becoming strained. “Can’t… make it…” Ki-yu rolled her eyes as he carefully sat on his knees, then spun onto his back. “Go on… leave me…” he wheezed, sticking out his tongue with a Blah!
Tempting… oh so tempting…
Sighing, Ki-yu dropped to all fours and padded back to him. She licked his forehead, but he remained unmoved. At the oh so perfect moment, the urge took her, and she sneezed into his open mouth. He sat up coughing at once.
“Ack-, ah- Ku!” Imdi said, spitting. Ki-yu chortled her raspy laugh, laying on her belly beside him.
“C’mon, lazy cub. Before I change my mind,” she tittered. He finished spitting and swatted her on the shoulder, an action she reciprocated on him with her tail for good measure. With a happy little gasp, he swung his leg up over her flanks.
“Ride, Ku-ku!” he giggled, patting her sides. Ki-yu snorted and shook her head at the little radji. She pushed off, her brother bouncing atop her back as she padded toward home.
~*~
Mama almost did faint when she saw Imdi, the journey back to the lodge not having improved the styling of his fur. Ki-yu had laughed when she insisted the boy have a bath, then tried to flee when Mama turned on her next. She had nearly made it out the door when Baba caught her by the tail and dragged her, claws digging into the floorboards, to the bathroom.
The large circular room was built centrally to the main structure, hard-packed and varnished clay forming a mosaic of tiles across the cracking floor and walls. Most of the room was taken up by the dreaded bath, a great circular bowl in the flecked and checkered floor. The water was warm and soapy, and Ki-yu sat back against the edge, pouting and crossing her arms. This is all Imdi’s fault, she thought. Imdi looked more miserable than her though, so at least there was that. The water was slowly growing blacker in the orange light as the gunk sloughed from him. Baba working his claws gently through the boy’s pelt, the water reaching up to his waist. The room always seemed larger than it was, the splash of the water echoing about.
“Ow!” the cub mewled as Baba caught on a tangle. Their father just grunted, but Ki-yu saw how slow and delicate he kept his paws. The girl sent a stick spinning across the surface that had floated free of her brother’s pelt. Baba tsked, running his thumb over Imdi’s broken quill.
“What happened here?” he queried. The boy glanced in her direction before shrugging, the water sloshing beneath him. Baba turned to Ki-yu, and she looked down guiltily at her onyx body as it vanished into the murky pool. “Hm,” the man grunted. He scrubbed the child’s paws before lifting him up onto the bathroom floor and patting him down with a towel. Imdi’s fur stood up in all directions, which with his quills made him look like a big ball of fluff. As Baba pulled back the towel, he casually flicked away a flower petal from it. He stopped abruptly, looking about for where it went.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. Finding it he pulled himself from the pool, leaving a trail of water and his perplexed children behind. He turned the spotlight on near the mirror and let out a grunt of surprise. “I’ll be damned…” He waddled back to Imdi, holding the petal out for him to see.
“Where did you get this one?” he asked eagerly. The boy looked at the sun-yellow blade with a shrug.
“Dunno. Was all over…”
“Well, where did you roll about?”
“Uh…” the boy struggled, looking to his sister for help.
“Well…” she began.
“You weren’t with him?” their father asked raising a brow. Ki-yu hissed, embittered, and turned away.
“Hide and sneak,” she heard Imdi offer quietly.
“Go show this to Mama,” Baba sighed. Her brother’s paws slapped against the tiles as he padded away, the door sliding shut behind him. It was soundless in the bathroom, and Ki-yu wanted to sink into the dirty lapping water. This is so unfair…
Baba sat on the edge of the pool next to her, his feet dangling in the water.
“Hide and sneak, eh?” he said, collecting a sponge. “From what I recall the sneaker didn’t jump on the hider when I played it.” He tried to rub some soap on her, but Ki-yu shrugged him off, not daring to look at him. He sighed. “Ki-yu, we know you won’t hurt him. We can see how careful you are when you play. But you’re bigger and stronger than he is.” He chuckled. “Hell, one day you’ll be bigger and stronger than I am.” The strangeness of the thought struck her, and she regarded him cautiously out of the corner of her eye.
“It was his idea,” she whispered. “Wanted to see if I could find him.”
“And what if you couldn’t?” he said, letting the sponge float in the bath. “What if his trick had worked? Or, Protector forbid, if something else found him?”
Imdi is thrown from the buggy as the roht collides with it, glass shattering around them as Ki-yu rolls across the ground. She groans as she realises that she is bleeding. She fumbles with the knife, unhooking it from her belt as the larger predator closes in on her squalling brother. With a snarling, desperate shriek she throws herself at it, and both predators are united in howling violent woe.
“We’ve not seen a roht in months. I haven’t smelt anything either,” she murmured, letting the memory fade.
“Doesn’t mean we can afford to be careless,” Baba replied. The insinuation struck her pride, and Ki-yu stood up and faced him in the bath, the water running across her scars.
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“I’m always careful!” her defiant bark echoed around the room. The dim orange light cast her father in shadow.
“Watch your tone,” he growled softly, and for a moment the Ki-yu’s ears rang. He took her paws gently, rubbing them with his own. “I know you’re careful,” he said softly, “and it must be frustrating, yes? Always being on guard, always watching yourself?” She looked away trying to hide her wet eyes. He picked up the sponge and she squatted back down, letting him wash her shoulders. “We let you both play out there because, well, we couldn’t exactly stop you anyway, but more so because we trust you. You, Ki-yu.” He pressed the tip of a claw to her sternum. “You’re the eldest, you have a responsibility. And no,” he cut her off before she could speak, “it’s not fair. It’s just… a difference.” Different…
Rivulets of warm water ran down her as he doused her over the head, smirking to himself as she snorted it from her nose.
“Did… you get him good?” he asked her, a glimmer in his eye. She tried to suppress her smile, but it broke through her as she looked up under her brows.
“We might have rolled…” she admitted, an impish grin spreading across her teeth. Baba chuckled, splashing her playfully on the snout.
“Attagirl. Just remember, being the older one means looking out for him, hm? And occasionally saying no, okay?”
“Okay,” she said quietly. The water had grown into a pool of black tar around her, seeming to reach up her sable hide to drag her beneath. She was silent as he finished washing her.
Ki-yu’s wet paws smacked heavily against the floor as they padded back into the living room. Mama sat at the table, a big dusty-smelling book was laid out before her, as was a small microscope. Imdi sat beside her, playing with some blocky wooden toys. Ki-yu hopped up onto the couch, plucking up Spike from where he had been dropped. She mauled the radji-shaped plushie affectionately, wanting nothing more than to put her head down.
“So…” Baba said, emerging from the hall and leaning over his partner’s shoulder. “What do you think?”
“Maybe…” Mama said, twisting a dial before turning and looking up at him. “It’s a good sign if it is.” Hm, that sounds interesting, Ki-yu thought, and forced herself onto her feet. Spike in her mouth, Ki-yu leapt over onto the table, her mother tutting as she jogged the microscope.
“What’s so important about a flower?” she asked, sticking her nose into the apparatus. The petal was small, non-descript save its bright colour. She certainly did not recognise it.
“Sit on the chair, you menace,” Mama said humorously, giving her a mollifying push back.
“This might be from a helian,” she explained, the chair wobbling slightly as Ki-yu settled. “Helians are rare because the sprouts are eaten by the smaller herbivores. Once they grow up tall, they are more resilient and then they grow their flowers.”
“They only grow for a very short time, just in the summer before they die,” Baba said. “If it is a helian then it’s a good sign that our predators are having a positive impact.”
“We’ll have a look tomorrow,” Mama decided, closing the book.
Ki-yu sniffed as the first hints of smoke stung her nose.
“Dinners burning,” she announced.
“Shit!” Mama cursed, and both her and Baba dashed over to the kitchen. “Have you had anything to eat today, Ki-yu?” she called out, lifting the pot from the stove. Ki-yu rested her head on her paws, pretending she had not heard her.
“Ki-yu…” Baba rumbled at her.
“No,” she admitted, groaning.
“Well, go on then. You’ll be back in time for a game.”
Giving Spike one last nibble, Ki-yu slid off the chair and balanced on her hindlimbs, stretching her arms up over her head and rolling her shoulders. It was dark as she loped off into the forest, but her large eyes drank in the moonlight. She considered just walking for a while before coming home, but Mama always seemed to know when she was lying. I am hungry…
She paced southeast, back to where she had found a large population of stiplets. The little furry things slept in soft nests of sticks and leaves, both of which were abundant in the foothills. She found one illuminated beneath Ki-ra’s reflected light, its body held low as it drank from a stream. The crash of the water perfectly hid the sound of her approach, quiet as she already was. Nevertheless, each footfall had to be placed perfectly, every movement carefully restrained. The muscle of her shoulders rolled as she placed each paw down, caution and desire pulling her taught between.
The stiplet looked up at the last possible moment, and Ki-yu sprung for him jaws wide. He managed a half-bound toward the brook before she caught him about the back, shaking him raggedly over the water. His squealing was silenced in a second as she bit down, just hard enough to kill him, not so hard as to split him in two. As he went still, she dropped him in the shallow water between her paws, panting hard. Her eyes were wide as she looked down at her work, making certain he was dead. The mammals mouth hang open in a final bloody shriek, one tiny hand hanging limp where her teeth had torn through his shoulder. The twist of his body told her she had broken his spine, the clear water running blue with his blood. Ki-yu closed her eyes and shuddered.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She bit the head off, then crunched through the ragged remains of the stiplets torso. The tail she saved for last, its long sinuous muscle was delicious. She licked her lips clean as she drank from the stream and padded back home. The rest of the family was starting to wash up, but Imdi still sat at the table playing with his toys. He looked at her quizzically as she returned.
“Why she do that?” he asked loudly pointing at her and turning to the parents at the sink.
“She… feeds herself,” Mama replied carefully, glancing at Baba.
“Why we no do that?”
“Because I’m different,” Ki-yu growled, tiring of conversation. “Night.” She padded to her bed, and like every night, tried to forget what she had done.
~*~
The daily morning routine delayed their departure, so the children had to distract themselves for a short while. Ki-yu had been experimenting with drawing but struggled with the thick markers the radji used. They felt chunky and unrefined, imprecise in her more dextrous digits. She would have to ask Baba for something more practical when he next went to the city. Imdi could distract himself rather easily. Everything held intrigue and interest to the young boy, but most often his wooden toys were his favourite. Ki-yu had admittedly been inspired by them also, attempting to carve shapes and toys with her knife from sticks and debris. The sun was high overhead by the time they set out, and the day had grown humid. She whittled a fresh twig as the group wandered out north, back where Imdi and Ki-yu had been the day before. Little singing things twittered and chattered to one another in the branches high above, a light breeze offering some relief when they passed through a gap in the trees.
Ki-yu wandered about lazily, having abandoned her stick when it became thin and over whittled. She was only half-interested in the hunt for the silly, soft flower, she far more preferred pretty leaves. Leaves gained that nice crunch, keeping their indulgent fragrance in a rigid shape if stored properly. Flowers just rotted, then turned to mush. She put her ear to the wilting husk of a great rip-bark tree, listening to the rustling of grubs and beetles beneath. The insects were a tasty morsel, but hardly worth stripping her claws to get at. She was sticking her nose into a pile of leaves at its base when she found a strong scent. Urine… musky… kinda like a… brynn? She turned back to her family who were crouching through the underbrush, looking for their flowers. They won’t notice if I disappear for a bit, she thought. Besides, they’d want to know if brynn were so far north.
Ki-yu trotted off into the woods away from the rest of the party, following her nose through the trees. The trail was reasonably fresh, punctuated by pungent patches where the animal had repeatedly relieved itself. This is almost easy, Ki-yu wondered, does it want to be found? The terrain was meandering vaguely uphill, open air becoming visible through the branches to the west. A trumpeting call rang ahead of her, loud and resonant. Ki-yu paused for a moment, and she weighed the cost of her curiosity. But there were no men with guns, nor the thick cloying smell of the predator that had scarred her, so she crept closer, pushing aside the green leaves about her.
A boulder blocked her path, her target’s scent thickening beyond. She slunk around it, keeping low. The bugle sounded again as she cautiously peered around the rock, and a short distance away stood a quadruped, clearly taller and heavier than she was. It’s speckled brindle coat seemed almost polished and glistened in the sunlight. A vyrryn? I’ve never snuck up on one before! The slightly built mammal stood on four cloven feet, it’s legs tall and slender. Its long face finished its call, and with a stomp of its hoof it bent down to pluck leaves from a low-sitting bush. A pair of widely spaced eyes dimly absorbed its surroundings, outclassed by the large ears that sat atop its head, rotating about like great oblong satellite dishes. The herbivores were incredibly skittish by nature, springing away in long bouncing strides at the first hint of danger. Even if she was not hungry, Ki-yu had found great satisfaction in getting as close to other animals as she could without being spotted. A few months prior she had gotten bold and tried sneaking up on the herd of brynn that they shared the estate with. The girl had been rewarded with triggering a stampede, and almost being crushed beneath the incensed hooves of the mammoth mammals. Her parents also gave her a stern reprimand, and a reminder to not overreach.
“One day, Ki-yu, you may be large and strong enough to bring down a brynn,” Mama had said. “And on that day, you may find yourself wise enough to know not to.” Ki-yu was not sure what that last part meant, but she took it as encouragement, nonetheless.
She considered the animal in front of her, tasting the air to ensure she was downwind of it. It’s not as big as a brynn, but it’s much bigger than anything I’ve caught before… I wonder if I could touch it…
The predator snuck forward, her body barely above the ground. Her paws glided silently over stick and root, gradually slinking closer to the vyrryn’s speckled rump. She took her time in her approach, trepidation bubbling within. She halted as another vyrryn called out in the distance, and her target looked up, snorting, and stomping with interest. Almost… just a few more paces…
There was a rustling of branches, and both predator and prey looked over as Imdi stumbled into view. The vyrryn bolted and Ki-yu sprang after it, closing on the first bound. Her long arms stretched out with claws extended as her quarry started on the second, but her strike came down on air just behind its furry backside. She snapped at its hooves as the third bound began, but she was too far out. Its skinny legs let it fly through the thicket, and like that, it was gone as it vaulted over the bushes. Ki-yu came to a scrambling stop, short-winded. She sat, her claws scratching at the dirt, fuming that Imdi had cost her a hunt. Idiot snuck up on me from downwind! She cursed his luck, realising then that she was salivating.
The predator within forced her head to the broken branches the vyrryn had left in its flight, yearning to still give chase. There’s no way I’ll catch it now that its guard is up. Snarling quietly, she paced back to her brother. The little radji still stood where he had found her and looked up into her eyes as she towered over him.
“Hi Ku!” he called out. “What do?”
“Stuff,” she growled, then shook her head. I wasn’t going to catch it anyway, and it wasn’t like I was going to kill it. “Nothing, don’t worry.”
She leapt up onto the boulder, her tail hanging low as she lay lazily atop it. She purred in the sunlight, ignoring the glare in her eyes. The girl wanted to sit there forever, just her and the sun soaking through her. You have a responsibility, Baba’s voice echoed about her head. Peering out from beneath a heavy eyelid, she saw that Imdi had wandered over to where she had chased after the vyrryn.
“Hey,” she called out, startling the lad. “Get back here.” Languidly, she reached for her radio as he waddled over. “Eco 3 here, did someone get lost?” There was static for a short period before Mama’s breathless voice broke through.
“Little guy did a runner. You found him?”
“Yup.” She took a scent of the wind, picking up her parents a short while away. “I’ll bring him back to you.” Her brother looked up at her as she dove down in front of him, and their dark eyes met one another. “Why’d you wander off?”
“Bored,” the little man shrugged. Ki-yu snorted and pushed him with her snout.
“C’mon, let’s not worry them.” They padded back the way they had come, but Imdi kept wandering about, veering this way and that. At one point Ki-yu looked over to see him travelling away from her to the west.
“Hey!” she called out, chasing after him. She caught up with him as he came to a rocky overhang, stopping him before he could peer out over the edge. “Careful!” she snorted. He’s nothing but trouble today!
“Sky!” he said happily, Ki-yu vaguely exploring the notion of throwing him into it. Seeing her sour expression, he faltered. “Sowwy,” he apologised. “Didn’t want upset.”
“You mean… yesterday?” she said slowly, sitting beside him. He nodded, pouting and looking away. “It’s my fault,” the sister sighed. “I should have known better. We shouldn’t wander off.” She regarded her brother, softening. “Why did you wander off, today I mean?” Her sibling looked up at her timidly, the slightest hint of moisture in those eyes. He… wanted to see me? Ki-yu keened gently, taking her brothers paw. Fiirits and awlets flittered through the sky before them, Ki-yu’s legs dangling over the edge.
“I was stalking,” she whispered to him. “Hunting.” The little boy shuffled beside her, contemplating the alien words.
“What mean?”
“Means… I’m different,” she muttered, not looking at him. “I catch things to eat. Living things.” His paw felt soft and small in her clawed hand. “I’m a predator.”
“Where… you go? At dinner?” he asked, curiously. She nodded absently, watching the clouds curl and lift high above them. “Why… can’t eat we eat?”
“I’m a predator, I eat other things.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I get hungry.”
“Why?” Ki-yu tilted her head at the odd question.
“Um… because… I didn’t eat earlier? I don’t know.”
“Why?” Ki-yu peered at him, dumbfounded. A grin spread across Imdi’s childish face, and Ki-yu snorted at him as she realised he was yet again playing with her. She slapped him playfully on the back with her tail, giggling at him. Dumb boy. He laughed with her, and she grabbed him beneath his arms, rolling onto her back and holding him at arm’s length above her. “Snarky little boys go over the cliff!” she said playfully as he squealed. Just as she was about to put him back down when the boy let out a surprised gasp and pointed behind her.
“Oh, here!” the boy called out happily. She set him down and turned to where he was pointing. Curling around a tree was a thick, vine-like plant. It wrapped over and over itself as it climbed for the sky, and all about its length were large round flowers each the colour of the sun. As they drew near Ki-yu saw it was a hive of activity, insectoids and small crawly things hovering and climbing over its surface, desperately sucking the nectar from the flower’s orange-yellow hearts.
“Woah,” she panted, mildly impressed by the piquant odour.
“Is it fower?” Imdi asked giddily as she squatted beside him.
“Might be… good spot,” she praised him. Imdi frowned suddenly, a thought occurring to him.
“So… you… hurt things?” he asked warily. She swallowed and nodded.
“Ku… like it?” he asked, unaware of how loaded that genuine question was. Suddenly the girl understood what her parents had put up with for the last year and a half, and a laugh burst from her lips. He tilted his head at her, clearly not expecting that.
“Sorry,” she chuckled, “It’s not funny, aha. It’s… complicated,” she said with a half-shrug. “I… don’t want to hurt anything.” She thought about the thrill she experienced, the satisfaction and horror of a kill. She gazed down at him, her beloved baby brother. “But it is what I am. I am a predator; I cannot change that.”
“Would you?” Imdi asked beside her.
“Would I what?”
“Change… being predator? If could?” The insectoids fluttered their iridescent wings about the petals. What would it be like to be a radji? she wondered. To be prey? “I could… leave,” she whispered to herself. “Go anywhere. Talk to people…”
“Why want leave? Who talk to?” Imdi asked. She shook her snout, dismissing the questions. “Don’t worry.” Don’t burden him, he’s still a baby. “I… don’t know,” Ki-yu answered honestly, looking down at her clawed hands. She thought about all the little things she had killed to keep her alive, the selfishness of it grating against her. She shut her eyes, and the notion of living a peaceful life tasted better than all the stiplet’s tails and fiirit’s bones in the forest. For a moment, a blissful happy moment, she sensed it, like the visage of a loved one just visible through frosted glass. “But I wouldn’t be me anymore,” she said, letting the moment pass. “And… whilst it’s hard… and not perfect… and different… I kind of like being me.”
She opened her eyes and sniffed at him.
“Would you want to be something else?” she asked.
“Bug would be cool,” her brother said at once. She blinked at him.
“A bug? You could be anything, anyone, and you’d be a bug?!”
“I be good bug,” Imdi said with a shrug.
“Oh yeah?” she chuckled, sitting on her haunches. “You’re certainly small enough.” He giggled at the jest. “Good job, buddy,” she said quietly, patting him on the head. “Let’s go show Mama and Baba what you found.”
---
“Do you know why we have the sunflowers? It’s not because Vincent Van Gogh suffered. It’s because Vincent Van Gogh had a brother who loved him. Through all the pain, he had a tether, a connection to the world. And that is the focus of the story we need – connection.”
– Hannah Gadsby.