Ki-yu, the little huntress.
Date [standardised human time]: April 12th, 2119
(17 years, 4 months, 22 days before the invasion of the radji Cradle).
Ki-yu awoke late in her new bed, making a happy little yawn as she stretched out the knots in her back. The cavern echoed about her, making her giggle.
“Hellooo!” she called out.
Hellooo!
“Heeeellllllloooooo!”
Heeeellllllloooooo!
Jumping to her feet, she trotted over to the wooden panels and swung it open to look down on the valley. The sundown was gorgeous from this vantage as the frost turned the mountains to mirrors of golden light, but the view was stellar at any time of day. Down in the dale, half buried in dirt and a thick coating of snow, smoke billowed from the lodge’s chimney. They must be getting started on their lunch, she mused. Maybe I will head home tomorrow.
Ki-yu had started ranging further now that she could return to what she had jokingly referred to as her ‘den’, only for the name to have stuck. It had taken a greater deal of time to make the cave liveable than Baba had first thought. Mama had explained that the impetus to start her off now was threefold.
Firstly, now that the vexise were finally breeding, the parents were excited to introduce them into the mountains. However, they also wanted closer observation on the little predators, the incident with Juran and Teraka still a sour note in all their memories. If Ki-yu was out here, she could keep an eye on them, make sure none were being killed unnaturally or running off the property.
Secondly, the position of the cave was an advantageous spot for what Baba had called a subtle ‘spotting tower’, whatever that was. He said she would enjoy it once she was older.
Lastly, and on a similar track, it was a good opportunity for Ki-yu to practice some independence, whilst she was still close enough that she could return should she need help. Imdi was almost of an age when he would need to start going to school, and that meant Ki-yu would once again be spending more time on her own. It was strange. So often when he was around, she wanted to be rid of him, but the thought of him no longer being there filled her with angst and sorrow.
They had all worked together for several weeks to ready both the cavern and her up to staying alone. The first night they all slept in the cavern, Baba’s soft snoring echoed so loud it woke him up from time to time. Mama had insisted him and Imdi go home after that, so that the girls might actually sleep. When Ki-yu braved a night by herself it was raining hard, and she found the caverns dark interior strange and outlandish. Nightmarish recollections swam about her: half-remembered hunts, the time she had been left alone after Imdi was born, and always the searing smell of ozone clashing with the rustic crunch of leaves. She had run back home with her tail between her legs, her hide soaking beneath her raincoat. But Mama and Baba had been gracious and understanding, telling her she was brave, even after she had clambered into their bed sodden and shivering. But she had been emboldened to return, and they radioed one another regularly.
It had taken a few weeks but now her cave—her den—had become quite homely. The volcanic chamber did not accrue moisture in the same way a karst cave would, nor would it collapse over time. The interior was lit by soft electric lamps, Mama having fitted a modest solar panel near the radio amplifier. A large round old rug sat at the centre of the roughly elliptical cavern; it’s worn red fabric interwoven with a fading gold. Mama had purchased it cheap from the market, and it smelt of mould and was fraying at the edges. Ki-yu loved it. She loved scratching at it with her back, running her claws through it.
A series of wooden panels had been fitted to the greater opening, the one overlooking the vista. They were almost entire merryling tree trunks, cut vertically so that their slab grey bark sat facing outwards, seamlessly filling in the shelter. Even from the air it would make a convincingly dull and uninteresting rock face, but still hinged open to allow her out onto the overhang or to get some airflow. Baba had been very pleased with himself. A similar, smaller door had been fitted to the more understated front entrance, although when it rained a torrent of water fell before it. She was grateful that today was dryer than most, and that the icy water would neither wash her nor leave her shaking. She set off eastward toward the secret meeting place, relishing the rare sunny winters day.
Ki-yu had been trying to get her bearings on this new elevated terrain, mapping out and stopping to sketch key landmarks. So far, she had found another cavern, several different fiirit nests, and a game trail which held some promising scents. She had even come across a point where a great river shot out over a cliff, falling in a roaring crescendo of white water and noise. Baba had said that it was a ‘waterfall’, one that connected with the vicious rapids further east. She loved all this exploring, and it was during one of these expeditions that she had first stumbled across the smell of the radji boy, Yotun.
At first, her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she had stalked him as he wandered deeper into her forest. So focused had she been on this stranger that she failed to notice how far she had ranged as well, and she had been startled when they both stopped before that terrifying view of the strange east. The smell that had come up from the vineyards and crops had been bland and upsetting to her, the landscape stripped of its individuality in favour of a naked plain devoid of trees. How could someone live in such a barren place? she had wondered. When he had sensed her, Ki-yu panicked, calling out and yelling at the top of her lungs. The clearing really was a lucky spot to come across him. The rock wall took her voice and threw it all around him, and the boy had been beside himself with fright. Ki-yu had thought the issue resolved, but stupidly started looking through the book he had dropped, and then of course she just had to return it. If she was not going to mention Yotun to her parents, she definitely was not going to tell them that she had snuck into his house. Or spoken to him again when he came back… or played games with him… shit…
Ki-yu acknowledged that she was probably not the best judge of radji character, having only ever known three, and the two others she had interacted with were not exactly the chatty type. Nevertheless, she thought the boy was… quiet. Subdued. On the odd occasion that she had snuck close enough to look at his face, she could tell that there was much more going on behind his eyes than his words let on. He was also the skinniest radji she had ever seen, worryingly so. Ki-yu had been tempted to ask him about food on more than one occasion, but decided the topic was best avoided.
Otherwise, she regretfully found herself to be growing fond of the lanky boy’s company. Imdi was still too young for anything truly stimulating, whilst Yotun was practically eager to talk about any topic she liked. Baba and Mama were her parents, and she loved them more than anything, and she would do anything for them, no matter how scary. But they were not children, and it was warm and fulfilling for her to actually talk to someone closer to her age.
Still, it gnawed at her, how stupid it had been to speak to him, how reckless it was to keep seeing him. He will let it slip eventually, and woe will be all that follows. Yotun was clearly trying to see her, even though she had repeatedly warned him off. At first his attempts to sneak up on her had been clumsy, and she had smelt, heard, and often seen him coming long before he even got close. It had even been somewhat fun, much to Ki-yu’s chagrin. But a few times he got almost been very lucky, chancing to look up at the right tree, or to peer around the right bush. Only quick thinking and her dark scales had saved her on those occasions, and Ki-yu dreaded what he might think should he realise he was talking to a pyq.
Yotun was waiting for her as she crept down the powdery rock face above him, the angle keeping her from view. Before them that alien world spread out into the distance, houses dropped here and there between great rolling spans of pasture. Machines—drones he had told her—moved like spectres through the fields; monsters of metal devoid of hearts and minds caring for fertile fields of floral children. It was… unnerving. She shifted her focus to the boy. Ki-yu watched him for a short while, the way his paws moved as he drew, the wrinkling of his snout as he puzzled at his work. She leapt silently into the trees, finding purchase amongst the high branches at the rocky vistas edge. The trees year-round leaves and thick branches gave her plenty of cover.
“Whatcha drawing?” she called out, startling him.
“AH!” he yelped, placing a paw on his chest. “Damn you! You enjoy doing that!”
“Aha! Who? Surely not me?” she laughed toward him. “So… whatcha drawing? Is it your friend?”
“No…” he said coyly, making her chirrup. “I was trying to make the vineyards work again. I like the way the sunlight falls across the valley,” he said, “but it’s really hard to capture.” His pencil moved casually as he traced a few lines. Ki-yu moved carefully along the branches, her claws digging in for grip. She found a nice hollow in what once must have been a magnificent rip-bark tree. The depression arced down the full length of the tree in such a way that she could peer through the cracks without being seen.
“Yeah, shading is tricky,” she said as she settled in, but her mind was elsewhere. She considered the big glowing ball in the sky. “Huh, what is the sun?” Ki-yu wondered aloud, making him stop in his drawing.
“You… don’t know?” Yotun seemed surprised.
“I mean… no. I know it’s meant to be Kay-ut’s pyre, but it doesn’t look like a bunch of sticks.”
“You shouldn’t look at the sun if you have eyes. You… do have eyes, don’t you?” he added carefully. She chortled at the question, deciding not to answer it. “Hang on, you know scripture? But… you don’t know what the sun is? Didn’t you say you have a family?”
“Hey!” she hissed at him, her voice echoing through the hollow. “They teach me lots. I just… guess the topic hasn’t come up.”
“Well,” Yotun said as he snapped his book shut and stood casually. “It’s a star.”
“But stars are small, aren’t they?”
“No, they’re just super far away. The sun is a star, it’s just really close.” Yotun swung his arms about, stretching some life into his deadened limbs.
“So… stars are like the sun, but really far away?”
“Well, yes! At night we see maybe a few thousand stars, but the galaxy has about a hundred billion stars, and that’s just our galaxy! There’s millions and billions of galaxies out there, and if all those-!”
“Stop, stop, stop!” Ki-yu begged him. “You’re hurting my brain!”
“Yeah, it’s a lot,” he giggled at her. Baba explained the seasons as when the Cradle gets closer to the sun, and things fall toward bigger things…
“So… let me get this straight: stars are like… big fires? So big that they pull stuff, like how we fall toward the ground, and this pulling moves the planets?”
“Kinda, yeah,” he said stepping toward the trees.
“And we live on a planet, called the Cradle? But there are other Cradle’s out there, with other people living on them?”
“Yeah. There’s lots of different people out there, but most of them stay at home.” He thought for a moment. “There’s like this confederacy we’re all a part of, but it’s mostly trade and commerce. Boring money-stuff.” Mama and Baba hardly ever talk about aliens! Ki-yu was almost nauseous with curiosity.
“What’re the aliens like?” she asked eagerly.
“Well… one of the oldest ones about are the nauret, they’re like big people, with long arms and faces. Then there’s the iridians, but people say they’re weird. They’ve got lots of legs and their mouths open sideways, like this—“ He clapped his paws in front of his face, letting the claws interlock like teeth. “There’s a few other ones, some of them furry like us.” He looked at the trees quizzically. “Are you furry?” Again Ki-yu ignored the query, asking one of her own.
“All these people join this conf… confed-a-ra-see?”
“Most of them, yeah, but it’s been decades since anyone new showed up. The auora were the last, I think. Of course, there’s also the pyq, but they aren’t a part of that,” he said. A chill ran along Ki-yu’s spine. Dare I ask?
“Who’re they?” she said, her anxious voice amplified in the hollow.
“Predators,” Yotun said slowly, an edge of caution back in his voice. “Teachers don’t talk about them…” It was then Ki-yu noticed how close he had gotten, right up to the trees. Oh shit!
“Yotun…” she growled, her body curling to spring.
He lunged for the tree hollow, and Ki-yu clambered out the top just as he swung around it and stuck his head in the bottom. She heard him let out a dissatisfied grunt, and she barked out her displeasure at him as she leapt to an adjacent branch. The pyq dropped to the ground silently, padding around him in the undergrowth. Stupid, stupid boy!
“Why won’t you listen to me?!” she snapped at him.
“You’re no fun,” he mumbled.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“This is not a game!”
“I’m sorry, its just–“ he clawed at the tree in frustration. ”Don’t you trust me?” he asked. “Why can’t I see you?!”
“I told you!” Ki-yu hissed. “I don’t want to hurt you!”
“So, what?” he contested, striding into the undergrowth to try and seek her out. “If I see you, you must hurt me?”
“The sight of me would hurt you!” she keened, fighting to keep her voice under control as she slunk around him.
“Then why?!” he said stopping and hiding his face behind his paws. “Why even reach out? Why talk to me at all?”
“I should ask you the same thing. I sent you away, you’re the one who came back.”
“You left me a note!” he yelled up at the canopy.
“To stay away!” This has to end, she realised. It’s too dangerous. They stood there, both desperate to be seen.
“Come back tonight,” she whispered, so quiet she worried he might not have heard her.
“T-tonight? In the dark?” he rubbed the back of his head with a paw. “W-why?”
“You won’t see me, but we can be close,” she said, peering around a tree at his spikey back.
“It’d be tricky to sneak out,” he said, rubbing his chin.
“Not all the way out here, you’d hurt yourself. Just into the forest. Come tonight, and I’ll tell you why you can’t see me.” Ki-yu could almost hear him thinking.
“Promise?” he said.
“I promise.”
~*~
The night was dry and oddly comfortable, so Ki-yu decided to leave her raincoat in the den. Her anxiety almost overwhelmed her, and she toyed with giving up and doubling back to the cave more than once. Only the knowledge that Yotun would actively seek her out anyway made her keep the agreement. This is such a stupid thing to do, so damn risky! Ki-yu was even more cautious than usual, she did not want to fall into some desperate ploy that Yotun may have set up. She crept down over the edge of the mountains, her fear rising as she headed again toward that alien void. She found him a good distance into the woods, holding a torch that lit up the night. He’ll draw his parents in with that thing on.
“Drop the torch,” she said from the shadows, causing him to jump.
“Kay-ut, I told you not to sneak up on me like that!” he cursed her. He did not drop it, the spotlight shooting between the trees.
“Drop the torch,” she told him again.
“B-but then I–”
“Exactly. Drop it.” She saw him look hesitantly down at the light in his paw, before he clicked it off, plunging them both back into darkness. He tossed it to the floor as her eyes adjusted, and she padded around him. “And your bag, don’t think I would fall for that.” She saw his rough figure slump slightly and he shrugged off his satchel near the torch. Ki-yu crept closer, wary in case he tried anything. He stood rigidly in the darkness fiddling with his claws as he listened to her quiet approach. For a brief moment, she thought he might try and grab her. A growl put a stop to that, and she snatched the satchel and torch away. She dropped them by a tree and turned to face the boy who could not see her. His form stood shivering in the din, closer than ever.
“I’m sorry, Yotun,” she told him. “You asked why I even spoke to you. I… reached out for the same reason you came back, I was curious.”
“What are you?” he asked, cutting to the heart of it. “If we’re not playing games anymore, I guess I can ask.”
“That would hurt you.”
“I don’t care about being hurt!” Yotun barked stepping forward. “I’m already hurt!” He rapped his knuckles against his head. “I’m hurt all the time! I just… I just want to talk to someone. I just want a friend!”
“I… had hoped you were my friend,” Ki-yu whimpered. “But I’m a creature of hurts, friend Yotun. And I’m just so sick of hurting.” She watched as he slowly retreated back toward the tree.
“I don’t care if it hurts me, just tell me,” the boy said bravely, only the slightest tremor in his voice “What are you? What kind of things do you eat?”
“You already know, dear clever boy. I am many things,” she whispered. “I’m a daughter and a sibling. I’m an explorer of sorts. I like to read, and to draw. I… would like to hear music, but find I am unable. I would like to meet people but find they would be scared.” In the lacklustre light she could just make out his panting form, his eyes looking about dimly, seeing naught but darkness. Ki-yu stood upright, the top of her head just below the taller boy’s chin. She edged closer, watching cautiously as he turned his head upon hearing her approach. She stopped within an arm’s reach of him. He looked right at her, before his eyes slid to the next patch of darkness. “And yes,” she breathed to him, her heart thundering in her chest as he looked without seeing. “I’m a predator.” His spines stood on end at her answer, and he shut his useless eyes. “Are you scared?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly. “B-because I’m very, very scared of what y-you have to say.” He gasped out a laugh.
“Y-you’re scared-d of m-me?!”
“Terrified.” Ki-yu wrapped her tail around herself, gripping it for comfort.
“W-why?! Why would-d you ever be s-scared of me?!”
“Because I like you. And I’ve never had a friend before,” Ki-yu admitted, fiddling with her tail. She loved her little Imdi; he was and would always be her brother. But he was a friend that was given, not one that was made. Yotun felt about for the tree behind him. Finding it, he slowly sat with his back to it, drawing his lanky legs up before him.
“Wh-when we f-first met, you s-said you’d have to hurt me i-if I saw you…”
“…I didn’t mean it,” she whispered. “An excuse so that you wouldn’t try to see me.”
“Then… why…?”
“Sometimes, to be seen, we must hide who we are,” she said remotely. Yotun let out a breath that might have been distantly related to a chuckle.
“I… think I understand that. S-so what now?”
“I don’t know,” Ki-yu said, looking up to where the stars broke through the trees. Though she could only see a fraction, she knew that a million-billion points of light blazed above her. Furnaces of reds and whites, blues and yellows. The hues of reality, of an infinite bonfire without borders, stretching out before time and beyond oblivion. She looked back down at the scared boy in front of her and saw that he too had looked up into the night.
“Do you have a favourite?” she asked him, causing Yotun to jump slightly.
“F-favourite w-what?”
“Star,” she said. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t asking for a limb to chew on.” The radji’s eyes went wide for a long moment before he started laughing. It was nervous laughter, the kind only found at the lowest end of the longest of ropes, but laughter, nonetheless.
“I- aha! I d-don’t really know. There’s quite a few of them.”
Cautiously, Ki-yu moved forward and sat beside him. He twitched, then froze, sensing her proximity. The pyq was but a hand from him. She was so close she could see the light reflecting off his teeth, watch the way his nose twitched.
“What’s that bright one?” she asked, knowing the answer.
“That’s not a star,” he breathed, “that’s one of our moons, Ki-yu.” It was a joy to hear her name from him, and she wanted nothing more than for him to say it again. “I always liked that name,” he whispered. For one blessed, reckless moment she toyed with telling him everything. But like all moments it passed.
“Me too,” was all she said, and it broke her heart.
Hesitantly, ever so slowly he raised a palm up toward her. He got to a point where he could not reach any further, his paw shaking in the gloom. She brought her own hand up, intending to hold his, but something stopped her. No matter how hard she tried, she could not bear to touch him. Their hands hovered in the void, both reaching but never meeting. She started to cry silently in the darkness, shaking with her teeth bared in a wretched grimace where he could not see.
“I… can’t see you anymore,” she told him stiffly, managing to hide the agony in her voice.
“W-what? Why not?” His paw dropped slowly, but hers still hovered beside him.
“This is too dangerous; they will hurt you now too should they find me.”
“Who would? Y-you’re wonderful!” Ki-yu rose and staggered away from him, leaning against a tree for support. Why must he make this so hard?! “Maybe I could ask Rylett for help? She’s a smart woman, she’ll–”
“If you tell anyone—anyone!—they will burn the forest down to kill me!” she barked, laying bare the weight in her heart. “You know they will! I should never have spoken to you,” she wheezed, wiping her tears.
“D-don’t say that,” he whispered. Ki-yu hastily picked up his satchel and torch, the boy gasping as she dropped them into his lap.
“Just go,” she whispered, hiding back between the trees. Ki-yu turned back to watch him go but found he had not moved. Why’s he just sitting there? She had to fight the urge to keen as she listened to him cry, her desire to protect them all clashing with the hurt she was causing him. He still hasn’t turned the torch on.
“How can I make this easier for you?” she asked him from the treeline.
“Make it- What?!” his sniffles intensified as his snout wrinkled at her. “What do you want from me?!” I wanted friendship… When she said nothing, he at last stood up with his back to the tree.
“T-tell me you like it,” he said, his claws scratching against the metal of the torch.
“Like what?”
“Killing. Hurting things, eating things.” His voice was thick, angry.
“It wouldn’t be true,” she whispered and wondered if she was lying. Yotun shook his head.
“Tell me you’re a monster. A monstrous predator I can forget. A kindly one, I never would.”
Isn’t it better to give him closure? Ki-yu thought, but no matter how hard she tried she could not bring herself to say it. Her voice had left her, and she stood there mouthing words that would not come.
“Say it…” he whispered. Ki-yu started sobbing as she backed away from the increasingly agitated boy. “Say it!” he hissed as he flicked the torch on, the white light cutting like a blade through the night. Ki-yu turned and ran from him, her vision blurring as the tears fell from her eyes, choking her as she panted. “Say it!” Yotun yelled out in the distance.
For the longest time she ran uphill, weeping as she went. At once point the rock gave way to gravel beneath her, and she grazed her forearms as she scrambled against the slope. It did not matter; she could not cry any harder anyway. Ki-yu began to regret leaving her coat in the den, the night’s chill biting deeper than any teeth. Must be careful, she reminded herself, always be careful. She was stumbling along the rocky pass when a scent wafted up from the cliff edge. She peered over, finding a vyrryn sleeping on a ledge a short distance beneath her. A male, a buck. Ki-yu felt a hunger like no other, not one for flesh, nor the thrill of the hunt, but something deeper, desperate and gnawing. She was over the edge and into the air before she had time to doubt herself, her limbs spread wide with her sinuous tail balancing her as she fell. She sailed through the sky, the wind whooshing past licking at the tears on her cheeks. The buck did not wake until her full weight hit him, crushing him to the ground beneath her. The vyrryn cried out, trying to stagger to his trembling feet. Ki-yu snarled, shaking the shock of impact from herself as she wrapped her arms up around him, her claws digging into his flanks as they ran beneath his fur. He mewled and honked in pain as she dragged herself up his body, until finally, she bit down on his neck, trying to relish the feeling as her teeth sank through his jugular. Still, he struggled fruitlessly as their bodies pressed together intimately against the rock. The mammal choked out in gasping breaths as his strength ebbed from him, and Ki-yu gripped his jaw and tenderly pulled it back for better purchase. She bit down hard, feeling her teeth crunch bone, and the vyrryn shuddered out his last. When she pulled back his blood flowed down her panting throat, warm and thick. With shaking hands, she brought his great horned face to hers, peering into his wide-set eyes. They did not look back at her. I did it… Ki-yu tried not to say anything, tried to take pride in her kill. She tried to focus on how warm his flesh felt, how rich it smelt, tried to take a bite. But she could not do it, and instead her anger at herself grew like a hurricane at the heart of her forcing her to her feet. A howling roar wrenched itself from her, echoing through the wilderness that was her. What started full of rage became a wail of despair, and she panted as she collapsed to her knees.
“S-sorry…” she blubbered shakily. “I… I’m so s-sorry…” The gasping in her throat stopped her from saying any more. Ki-yu fell across his great shaggy chest and cried into his fur.
~*~
It was the middle of the night when she staggered up to the lodge. Baba must have cleared some of the snow back, but the frost had returned with a vengeance. She knocked insistently on the back door, shaking uncontrollably. A tired Baba opened it, gasping to alertness when he saw her. Ki-yu guessed she must look a terrible sight. A big dark predator sits shivering by the door coated in dried blood, the smell of death on her lips. Am I still your daughter, Baba?
“Ki-yu?” he mumbled, his muscular form tensing as it filled the doorframe.
“Baba…” she said. “I think I made a mistake.” His eyes were wide, his hand resting on the door handle.
“Sweetheart… what did you do?”
“I… I haven’t t-told you something,” she whispered, her voice starting to break as she looked shamefully down at her shaking claws. She was still looking at her paws as Baba bent down to pick her up, was still distant as he brought her to the bathroom. Vaguely she knew Mama had joined them, feeling their paws start to caringly scrub the blood and dirt from her hide. The warm soapy water seeped into her cuts, stinging and comforting at once. It was near pitch-black in the gloom of the bathroom save the soft orange glow of the lamps glistening across the water’s surface. I am always cloaked in darkness, she reflected bitterly. Ki-yu’s lip curled in a silent snarl, and she wanted to claw the scales off herself and rip at the meat with her narrow teeth. Crush the bones and scatter the marrow to free the girl within. Mama stopped in her washing, running her paw over the predator’s scalp. Neither of them recoiled from her vicious teeth, Baba trying to work the gore from beneath her claws. Am I not a monster? came the old question.
“Sweetheart…” Mama started slowly, trying to find the right words. “We know you’re hurting, and that right now you might not want to talk about this. But we’re here for you, we always will be.” She kissed Ki-yu hard on the forehead, as though trying to push her love through her skull. The girl tried to quash the bubbling in her chest, the raw feeling that tried to howl out of her.
“We love you,” Baba said. “You can talk to us when… you’re… Ki-yu?” She had started crying, bawling out her grief. In the end she told them everything. It poured from her, how she had found Yotun and how neither could keep away from the other. Baba went still when she told them that she had decided to break their fledgling friendship when Yotun got too curious.
“Ki-yu… who’s blood is this?” he asked gently. “What did you do?”
“V-vyrryn,” she mumbled.
“You killed a vyrryn?” Mama whispered, surprise mingling with confusion. “That’s… why would you do that? Were you hungry?”
“N-no, I didn’t e-even try it,” she slobbered honestly. “I g-guess I’ll have to go back for it.”
“I… don’t understand,” Baba said. “Why kill it?”
“Y-Yotun…” she started, then shook her head. “I dunno…” Having stripped the worst of the muck from her, the parents pulled them all from the water. They wrapped her in a warm fuzzy towel, and just sat there holding her between them.
“I… just wanted a friend…” Ki-yu muttered, looking down at her vile scaly skin.
“We understand sweetheart. But… what if he tells someone?” Mama whispered.
“I… don’t think he will,” she huffed. “He loves the forest too much and knows that they’d destroy it to get to me.”
“Ki-yu…” Baba said slowly. “What exactly does he know?”
“That there’s a talking predator in the woods,” she sniffled. “That it has a family. That it’s scared, and th-that I tried so h-hard t-to keep h-him awa-y!” Ki-yu broke down again. Her cries echoed about the bathroom as her parents rocked her, whispering soothing nothings. The door creaked slowly open, and a little brown head peered in.
“Ku?” Imdi said tentatively.
“Shh… she’s just upset, sweetheart,” Mama said gently. “It’s okay, go back to sleep.”
“No!” Ki-yu barked between her sobs, reaching for her brother. “Imdi…” The little boy toddled over at once, and Ki-yu choked out a purr as she hugged him off his feet.
“I love you, little brother,” she cooed. The boy pulled back, his almond-coloured face searching her eyes.
“What’s the matter Ku?” he asked with a curious tilt of his little head.
“Nothing,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I just missed you is all.”
“I missed you too. I no like leaving you alone,” the boy mumbled, his face suddenly worried. “Mama and Baba said you won’t be at school with me.”
“Imdi…” Baba rumbled soothingly. “You know she can’t go with you.” Ki-yu managed to stifle the keen. Oh Imdi, I’d like nothing more.
“I’ll be here whenever you come back, brother mine.” The wobble in her voice making the little radji look deep in her eyes.
“Will you be okay Ku?”
“I’ll b-be okay,” she whispered to him.
“Promise?”
“Mm-hmm,” she choked out behind a tight-lipped smile. This time, she knew she was lying. She hid her sorrow long enough for her baby brother to leave, and wept without tears against her parents.
---
Oh, the falcon was a pretty bird
Wandered as she flew
She danced around and pranced around
Wherever the warm winds blew
And the falcon was a pretty bird
Her voice was always still
But men with drums and men with guns
They taught her how to kill
Her eye was on the sparrow
Her mind was on the dove
But no one cared and no one dared
To speak to her of love
Her eyes are always hooded
Her claws are sharp as steel
We teach her not to see too much
We teach her not to feel
– The Falcon. Mimi & Richard Fariña, Celebrations for a Grey Day. 1965.