Ki-yu, the little huntress.
Date [standardised human time]: April 16th, 2120.
(16 years, 4 months before the invasion of the radji Cradle).
Her brother laughed in the grainy footage, children leaping and running after one another. It was comfy on her cushions, snug beneath her blankets. She could sit and read, or maybe whittle something. Drawing had been hard lately, the landscape before her cameras was still and white. Blank, like paper. This winter was stronger than her last. Perhaps it was her denning in the mountains where the air was thinner, but the chill bit as hard as she could. She pulled her blankets tighter.
At least she had the tour footage. Almost every day she replayed it, living in it like an old memory. She knew almost all of it by wrote, so sometimes she tried to watch it differently, perhaps just watching one person, and only that person. Learning their movements, their expressions like a rehearsal before a play. Sometimes she watched the skinny, fearful man, explored his anxiety. Maybe she would sit in the mind of that wizened cripple, touch his odd strength, try to understand what it meant to be that old. Other times she would be the cream-coloured girl, feel her sly smile, her enthusiasm. But she never dwelled in that one too long; too close to Yotun, and the false father who reeked of burning.
But always, she came back to those joyful young radji, playing outside the lodge. Their squeals and screams scratching at something sunken and lost.
It was a kind of despair, she suspected. Ki-yu felt like she had plunged into the bottom of the lake, the weight of all that water above her as soft and warm as all the blankets in the world. The girl only needed to wait and see what came swimming.
A chiming sound dragged her from the depths, gasping as she broke the surface. The camera looking west pinged an approaching vehicle, her parent’s buggy. A whine escaped her, part relief part fear. How long has it been since I saw them last? she wondered. There was scratching at the door not long after, but to her surprise Rylett was the one who entered. Her brown eyes latched onto Ki-yu quickly, that familiar moment of hesitation playing out. Baba crouched in after, his pack over one shoulder.
“Hello Ki-yu,” the Priestess said. “It’s been a while.” Ki-yu chittered warmly at her.
“It has,” she chirruped, dragging her blankets with her across the floor to them. “Baba.” He chuckled as she hugged him.
“You know you can light a fire in here, right?” he said, breathing pointedly to show his misting breath.
“Uh-huh, it just makes it all smoky.” It was cold enough that even Rylett had been forced into a pair of overalls, her tutor shaking off the snow about her ankles.
“Wow…” she whispered, looking around as her voice echoed in the cavern. “You live here?”
“When I’m out for long.” She tilted her head at the woman. “What’re you doing here so soon?” Rylett looked about.
“Aren’t you ready?”
“Ready?” The radji glanced at each other.
“For your lesson.”
“My… my lesson?!” It couldn’t be mid-winter already, could it? “Oh…” she rubbed her hands together awkwardly. “S-sorry. I guess I lost track of the days.” Rylett smiled easily, shifting her pack on her shoulder.
“I’m sure it’s easy to get distracted out here.”
“Yeah, what’ve you been up to?” Baba asked.
“Uh, watching the cameras. Whittling things.” Ki-yu shuffled across her ragged carpet, her blankets a soft cloak. She peered across her small workbench, flicking on a lamp. A clutter of scrap paper, wood shavings and collected forest knickknacks spread across it. “I’ve been reading the books you gave me,” she called back to Rylett as she dug through it all. “Well… I was… How’re Mama and Imdi?”
“Okay,” Baba said, inspecting her computer. “They miss you. You’ve been rewatching the tour footage?”
“Oh, uh… yeah.” Ki-yu rubbed her body beneath her makeshift shawl, suddenly insecure. She wandered back over to them. “It, uh, seemed to go well.” Baba lingered on the still frame of the children but said nothing. Rylett cleared her throat.
“Yes, I thought so,” she said. “What’d you think?” She was about to answer when her stomach rumbled, killing the conversation. The Priestess held still for a moment, then chuckled.
“I guess you must be hungry…” she laughed. Baba eyed Ki-yu carefully.
“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” he asked.
“No…” she said. Not as much as I was. His snout twisted, clearly catching the lie.
“Ki-yu…” Baba groaned, rubbing his face. Rylett looked fretfully between them.
“She’s not eating?!”
“The winter…” she spluttered, “prey is rarer.”
“How long?” Baba asked. She looked away, longing for her bed. “Ki-yu?” he pressed her.
“I dunno… I had something when on the way back from the lodge.”
“A week?!” She cringed away from his hard voice, but his eyes were soft. “Sweetheart…” Her father ran out of words. Instead, he pulled gently at her blankets; she did not resist. Baba gasped sharply through his teeth as he looked down at her. One day without hunting was a secret treat, just for her. The problem was it was so easy to just give up on a hunt when it was so cold. Go home, go to sleep. She knew she had been losing weight, but she guessed she would find something eventually.
He did not say a word, that was what hurt the most. The sorrowful expression on Rylett was hard to stand, but it was only when Ki-yu saw the look of fear on her Baba that she realised she had gone too long.
“I’m sorry…” she whispered, shivering, gaunt and naked.
“It’s okay, it’s…” He screwed up his face. “No, actually it’s not okay! You agreed to let us know if you were struggling! Promised you’d keep eating!”
“D-don’t yell at me…” the girl whined, sinking down into her shed bedspreads. They’ll never know what it’s like, never understand. Baba took a deep breath, biting his upper lip.
“Sorry Rylett,” he sighed. “We’re gonna have to go out right now.”
“N-no!” The girl barked, reaching up to her father and pawing at his side pleadingly. “Don’t take away my lesson, p-please!” she begged. “I-I’ll go out as s-soon as it’s warmer, I promise!”
“You need to eat now, sweetheart.” He turned to the Priestess. “Sorry to drag you all the way out here for nothing,” he said. I’ve wasted her time. She’ll hate me now. Ki-yu wanted to fall over and give up.
“No, I- uh…” she hesitated, then shook her reddish head. “I’ll come with you.” Baba blinked, regarding her cautiously.
“I won’t say no but… it’d be confronting,” he warned her. “For anyone, let alone someone with your bac–”
“I will be fine,” she said, a little fire in her voice. “I’ve made my vows.” Her echoing voice filled the silent cave.
…my vows…
“So be it,” Baba said gruffly. I don’t want her to see… Ki-yu shot the man a pleading look. “We’re going,” he said. “That’s final.”
“It’s still cold…” the pyq protested meekly. A little of her father’s warmth bubbled back into his eyes as he reached into his pack.
“Well, how about this?” Baba said. With a flourish, a reel of fabric unfurled in his grip. A new poncho hung between them, larger than her last one to match how she had grown. The outer layer was a muted grey, just subtle enough to look like a shaded patch of snow from afar.
“Wow,” she gasped, her anxiety lessening for a moment as she took the garment from him. It had clearly been made with winter in mind; the inner fabric being plush, and no doubt warm.
“It was supposed to be a present,” he said, a little morosely. Stupid, stupid girl! Why am I like this?
“Sorry…” she whispered, rubbing her fingers across the cloth. “I don’t deserve it…” Baba sighed heavily, an earnest smile tugging at his fuzzy face. He gently took it from her.
“Yes, you do,” he rumbled as the poncho came down over her shoulders. “This and a thousand more besides.” He pulled it tight, checking the fit. “As many as I can make.”
“Shush, Baba,” Ki-yu sniffled, trying not to cry. He smiled softly; his paws deft as they worked. It was a little loose on account of her thinning frame, but it was neither cumbersome nor restrictive. It was like a blanket she could take with her. Whilst it was only the second piece of clothing she had ever worn it was undoubtedly her favourite.
“How’s that?” he asked, stepping back. She fell forwards onto her paws, trying a few paces.
“It’s perfect,” she whistled, resting on her haunches. “Thank you.” He smiled, then knelt down before her. His paws came around her face.
“This isn’t a punishment, Ki-yu. You need to eat. Every day.”
“I know,” she mumbled. “Some hurts are needed.”
“Good girl.” He tossed his head sombrely to the entrance.
“Come on, let’s get this done.”
~*~
The mid-morning air was chilly, and whilst there was no forceful gales like previous night’s Ki-yu was thankful for her new coat. The snow caps that sat on the mountains year-round now clung like fattened clouds down the slopes, slab grey stone turned silver by the frost’s albedo. A few owlets moved across the sky with firm, steady wingbeats, slipping down from their alpine nests. Nothing besides them stirred.
“So… what happens?” Rylett asked sheepishly. Her words formed swirls and puffs of warmed air as they progressed down the hill’s incline.
“Normally I follow my nose,” Ki-yu said, feeling as nervous as Rylett sounded. “But the snow clouds the scent.” She looked about. The treeline was empty of leaves, their dormant hosts standing like frigid columns of wood and bark. Nothing moved between them. “We’ll go to the river,” she decided. “Anything that’s about will stop there.” Baba pulled the rifle from the buggy as they passed, slinging it over one shoulder.
“Lead on,” he said.
The thickened snowfall left a numbing chill in Ki-yu’s paws as she led them into the woods. The radji crunched through the frost more heavily than she did, their wide tracks snaking behind them.
“Lot of snow,” Ki-yu muttered.
“Harsher winter,” Rylett said, offering a wry laugh. “Your namesakes influence.”
“Oh,” Ki-yu looked up into the sky, spying for the rogue moon.
“He’s further out to sea this perigee,” Baba said, sniffing against the cold. “Won’t be so bloody bright this time, but he’ll be wreaking havoc on the tides before long.”
They pressed on some distance, careful to avoid the forest proper where roots and rocks hidden by the snow could cause a twisted ankle. This meant their route was somewhat indirect. Whilst fatiguing, Ki-yu could lope along for a few hours, but although Baba was in excellent shape, all radji were poor across uneven terrain. She paused to let them catch their breath.
“Ah…” Rylett panted. “Damn… this family. This’s more exercise… than I’ve had all year…” Baba smiled.
“Fresh air will do you some good. We can’t stay underground all the time.”
“Says who?” He grinned at her jest, patting her shoulder as he started again. Rylett rolled her eyes, still winded.
“Congratulations,” Ki-yu chittered to her.
“What for?” she replied.
“You’ve seen more of the forest than most people ever do.”
“Hurrah,” she said in flat tone, her smiling eyes hinting at playfulness. “I must admit I enjoyed it a bit more last time.”
When they arrived at the river they found little sign of life. Thick snowfall had covered the bank, a layer of ice clinging to the water. Nothing had been there for a long time. The nearby stiplet colony was also seemingly barren. A few of the rodents might be hibernating deep in the bottom of their burrows, but the ground was frozen solid. There they would have to remain, safe, warm, and asleep. Ki-yu envied them.
They followed the stream a short way, not attempting to cross the frozen river. The channel had been obscured somewhat by the frost, as though they were walking across a cloud. Ki-yu was about to turn back when she spied a break in that cumulous covering.
Sparing a closer look, she saw there were tracks in the snow; long narrow legs had pushed a path up the embankment. Vyrryn, she knew at once. The others peered closer.
“What is it?” Rylett asked.
“Quiet from now on,” Ki-yu said, keeping her head low to the track. There’s a hint of something… not enough to follow. Fortunately, the prints were clear. Softly, she paced her way after it, the radji taking a slower path behind her. The snow thinned as the animal moved into the treeline, but this worked to her advantage. The lightest of imprints might have been left behind, but the smell was clearly the musty, earthen smell of vyrryn urine. Fresh. The tracking was child’s play. Her hunger, to her shame, was pulling her along now, but she had to stop. She waited by a tree, the smell emanating enticingly up the embankment. A few precious minutes passed before she heard the others panting behind her. The girl sat still; an onyx statue draped in a grey coat as the radji sat before her.
“It’s close,” she whispered. “I’ll be quieter on my own.”
“Wh-what… is it?” Rylett panted.
“Vyrryn. They’re flighty, so stay out of it,” Ki-yu whispered. “This is my work.” She shrugged off her new poncho, favouring stealth over comfort. Baba caught her paw.
“Be careful,” he whispered. Nodding, she crept over the rise.
She sighted her quarry a short distance away. The vyrryn’s coat was a thick and shaggy russet, its cloven-footed legs lithe and firmly planted. The ears moved constantly, searching the still snows for anything that was amiss. Ki-yu was close enough now to smell the subtle yet cloying hints of a building oestrous, the pungent scent these animals gave off in spring. A doe, in her prime. This will not be easy. There was little cover on her approach, and the animal could bolt faster uphill than she could leap after her. Her only chance was to hope the vyrryn remained distracted long enough for her to get close.
The wind was low, the snow blanketed any scent Ki-yu would give off. Her prey seemed to be looking for something, her head staying low to the ground. Ki-yu inched closer, her dark eyes flicking from her path to her target. The vyrryn started brushing aside the snow with her broad nose, huffing as she did. Ki-yu moved closer, her thin body held taught and low. She froze as the doe pulled her head back. She was squarely behind it, but still too far should she scarper. The animal sneezed. Shaking its head, it slowly trotted along the embankment to where the wood thinned. It stopped where the base of a toppled tree had exposed the dirt, the tangled roots like some dying insect, kicking at the sky.
The vyrryn looked around, more carefully than before. Did it sense her, or was it merely being cautious? Do animals feel the claws beneath the scutes when they are being watched? Seemingly appeased, the doe began digging again. The pyq pressed on, splaying her paws carefully into the snowfall to lessen the sound. She shuddered, both from chill and courage.
Beneath the flurry, the animal found what it had been after. She began lapping at the earth, taking in the rare minerals. There was open space between them, an absence of all cover. Move too fast and she will startle, move too slow and she’ll notice. Careful, careful. Her dark hide made her part of the world at night or sundown, a subtle shadow during most of the year. But now, in winter, she was as obvious as smoke in the nose.
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Her hunger melted away; it was all about the capture now. Her prey still had not noticed her, her snout tarred with brown clay. The predator’s haunches were tight, screaming and begging to pounce. Just a little closer…
The doe’s head came up, turned–
Ki-yu sprang. The vyrryn duked right, before leaping left. Ki-yu hissed as her target narrowly avoided her, sailing past the uprooted tree as it fled below the embankment.
She could have let it run, kept looking for something else. Or better yet tell Baba that she had genuinely tried and go home. But she was already moving, bolting as fast as she could along the ridge, running parallel to the animal. The vyrryn moved in great leaps, the incline too steep for the thin-legged creature to descend safely. The dirt felt fixed beneath her paws, hard packed snow over firm ground. Blood thundered in Ki-yu’s ears, her lungs working like bellows as she bounded over the rocks and roots that tried to trip her. The doe was having a harder time dodging the sleeping wood below, the forest pressing closer. Ahead of it, three trees grew across its path; it could only flee one of two ways. Go! Putting in all her effort, Ki-yu managed to outstrip it for just a moment, then turned and hurled herself through the air, leaping for the spot she hoped her mark would be. Freefall, claws out, teeth bared.
The two collided as the vyrryn broke through the trees, the force of their impact was shocking, even for the predator. They were thrown over the edge of the incline, braying and yelling as they tumbled downhill. Ki-yu gripped the panicking animal as best she could, her claws digging in. The doe bleated wildly as they continued their downward fall, the world spinning by in a whirling wheel of sky and snow.
The pyq was dizzied as the ground smacked painfully across her cheek, but she managed to cling on. She was atop it, then beneath it. Their bodies tangling, pulling apart, then colliding anew. The ground fell away beneath them for a small eternity, the momentum separating them. Sky, open air, dirt and rocks flew across her eyes, before Ki-yu splashed down into an ankle-deep layer of chilled water. Puffing at the cold and the hard landing, she forced herself up.
They had crashed into a sandy riverbed littered with rounded rocks of varying sizes, some as small as silt, others great boulders far bigger than either of them. Movement was signalled by splashing in the rocky stream, Ki-yu spinning about to sight her target.
The vyrryn had kicked onto its side, slender legs lucky to be unbroken. The hunter sprang for it again, lest she flee. Instead, the herbivore reared up to kick with her forelegs. Ki-yu rolled backward, narrowly avoiding having her teeth knocked out. She hissed at her prey, the two pacing erratically as they gauged each other’s path. The uneven ground could result in a twisted ankle, and spell death to either of them. Stamping, the doe put its hornless head down, and charged. So close were they that Ki-yu had little time to react and would have been run down had she not dived low to one side. She reached out as it passed, her hand latching around a hoof. Incensed, the doe spun in a circle, trying to kick and stomp its attacker. Snarling, wriggling across wet silt, the pyq tried to pull it closer, only realising her mistake too late. A kick to the ribs sent blinding pain through her, the girl managing to keep her grip as she choked out a gasp. She was stuck beneath it, the hooves pummelling down ferociously. Ki-yu was wild impulse in that moment, terror and thrill mingling. She writhed about on her back, the vyrryn stomping down whichever way she tried to move. A cloven hoof came down on her ankle, lancing pain making her cry out, then howl in rage. She threw herself up at it, biting around the animal’s shoulder. Blood was in her mouth as she clung on has hard as she could, the herbivore bucking and screaming as the predator crunched down harder. The leg buckled, the vyrryn pulling as hard as it could to keep from falling. The brutal tug of war lulled for a moment, both panting, neither willing to give up.
Suddenly the vyrryn changed direction, pushing into Ki-yu with all its strength. All that weight was suddenly bearing her down across her chest, the quarry trying to smother her, or force her to let go. The vyrryn pressed the pyq against rocks, stones scraping against her scales painfully. There was a crunch as Ki-yu was pushed up against a boulder, the desperate animal doing all that it could. Enough! She snarled through her teeth, and in one fierce motion wrapped her hand around her furry throat–
KRA-KOW!
The weight was almost thrown off her by the blast. There was a new assault, now on her senses. Her ears were ringing from the gunshot, but she could just hear the vyrryn baying and screaming. What was worse was the smell of charring flesh, the ozone odour making her stomach roil. She groaned, rolling onto her paws. Her opponent was kicking feebly with her forelegs nearby; the shot had hit her through the pelvis, leaving her paraplegic.
Ki-yu wheezed, more shocked than anything. Following the source of the sound, she spied a radji where the ravine fell into the river. Her father was still sitting in a crouch, a mirage of heat sizzling around the barrel of the rifle. He was stock still, blinking as he watched the creature suffer.
“Baba…” she called hoarsely to him. “Baba, wake up.” His eyes came to her, then to the gun in his paws. With a start he threw the weapon away like it had burnt him. He stumbled forward, almost falling as she had into the river. Rylett came scrambling down embankment behind him, breathing hard. Her father moved to her, trying to pick her up.
“Sw-sweetheart are you al-alright?!” he gibbered, his paws checking her wounds. It’s still hurting.
She pushed away from him, unsheathing her knife. Staggering from the pain in her foot, she meandered up to the crying, crippled creature. There was fear in her wet eyes, no doubt; terror forcing the doe to still try to move in spite of her suffering. As quickly as she could, Ki-yu plunged her blade low under its ribs straight through its strong heart. The vyrryn bleated a sharp breath, dying before it could draw the next. Ki-yu gulped at the chilled air, yanking Talon free. Her hand was blue to the wrist.
“Why’d you do that?” she asked weakly, crouching to wash the blue from her shaking hand in the stream. She fought so hard… Rylett had picked up the rifle, stopping as still as the boulders some distance away.
“Do…? Sweetheart?” The silt squelched beneath his feet as he cautiously approached. Ki-yu slid Talon away, rounding on him in a fury.
“I told you! You don’t hurt for me!”
“I thought–”
“It was mine! I had it!” She was crying again.
“You were screaming!” Had I been? She turned to Rylett to ask her but found that she was no longer between the rocks.
“Rylett?” The Priestess was stumbling away, across the sand. She collapsed where the gnarled grey roots of a merryling tree hung into the riverbed, retching onto the ground. The woman was hyperventilating through her vomit, pawing at the silt. Baba turned back to their prey. He wobbled.
“Protector…” The big man covered his mouth, unable to look away. A shudder passed through her as their argument was relegated to the cold. It did not matter. He’s never done this before, she remembered.
“I-I didn’t mean- I d-didn’t want to-!” She took one of his meaty paws in her own. It was as wide as her head, strong and hardened from years of work. It trembled in her grip.
“Father,” she whispered. “Father, I know. I know.” Cool tears wet her cheeks. Baba smothered her up in a great hug, falling to his knees as he held her close. Her whole body was grazed and aching, and her ankle hurt in a numb way. But she felt safe, swaddled in his arms.
“Oh, my sweet little girl,” he uttered, rocking her against him. “I’m so sorry.” The forest was still, letting out a long-held breath. They were trapped together, she realised. They could never abandon one another. Sinners, with no choice but to sin.
“You’re shivering…” he said after the longest time. He stood with her in his arms, moving out of the stream to the slightly more sheltered forests.
“Wh-what about…” she pointed wearily back to the dead doe.
“I’ll sort it.” He set her down, then shook out her poncho. “Here, put this on. We should start a fire…”
“I can do that,” Rylett said breathily, rifle over one shoulder as she leaned heavily against a tree. The woman looked sick, Baba saying something discreet to her as he passed back to the riverbed. The two were left looking at one another, quiet and cold. Ki-yu hid herself in the fabric, not bearing the feeling of her eyes upon her.
Together they built a lean-to fire, stripping bark from merryling trees for kindling. They did not speak the whole time. They both seemed relieved when Baba returned, even with what he brought with him. The doe seemed so much… lesser than before. All that character, the strength and assuredness with which it moved had ceased. The mechanism had stopped. Her father placed it down as gently as he could, then moved to the fire. At first his starter would not catch, his paws shaking. He took a long moment, closing his eyes to steady himself. Ki-yu felt her stomach start to yearn anew as he sparked the fire. It was small, but they were grateful for the warmth. Sitting around the glow, it almost felt comfortable. Baba sighed, one of fatigue not derision.
“Wh-what do we do?” he asked, looking at her dinner.
“First,” Ki-yu said, leaning over it, “we apologise.” She ran her hand across the vyrryn’s sloping forehead, feeling the thick, fluffy wool of its throat with another. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her words a whisker from dead ears. Her Baba settled onto his knees beside her, hesitantly resting a paw on the lifeless thing.
“It’s so soft…” his voice waivered.
“She,” Ki-yu whispered. “She was a she.” Baba shuddered, leaning close as Ki-yu had.
“I’m so sorry, little doe.” He pulled back, glancing at Rylett. “Would you like to say anything?” The teacher rung her wrists, blinking as she shook her head.
“Baba,” Ki-yu said quietly, shame bubbling within her. “I’m really hungry.” She felt so thin and exposed. Despite her new poncho, she found she was still shaking. He placed a reaffirming paw on her shoulder, then moved to sit beside Rylett. Ki-yu steeled herself, daring to look her in the eye. The woman was somewhere else, her face a mask.
“You won’t like this part,” Ki-yu warned her. “You can look away.”
“No,” Rylett said out of the corner of her mouth. “I’ll stay.” Ki-yu drew her knife.
There was more meat on this animal that she could eat in a week. A leg, she decided. Then I’ll stash the rest to freeze near the den. Seating herself between the carcass and the others the pyq worked quickly, trying to spare those she loved the sight of her. She hated that she—they—had killed so large a creature, that she could not eat it and be done with it. At least I don’t have to hunt anything else for a while.
She could have eaten it hide and hair, but she wanted this done. Ki-yu slid her knife around the hock, stripping the skin in long ragged slivers. The thin air barely lessened the smell. It permeated through her, so sordid and thick it seemed to block the nose, press against the skin. Both the radji recoiled. The flesh beneath was so deep a blue as to be almost black in places, lean with only the slightest layer of fat. This animal must have worn through its winter reserves. Rylett was making small mumbling sounds, the girl supposed she might have been praying.
“Y-you’ve done this before…” Baba whispered.
“Not like this,” she admitted. “Not to a vyrryn.” She grunted as her knife cut across the buttock to free the animal’s thigh, wedging the blade in to try and part it from the hip. It took longer than she would have thought, muscle and tendon firmly tying the joint together, but with an audible pop the head parted from the socket, and the leg was freed. Keeping her back to the radji, she bit into the meat at once. A fat belly of flesh was sundered between her teeth, coming free with one forceful pull. The meat was still warm and living, so monstrously good. Between bites she spared a glance over her shoulder, blood dribbling down her chin. Baba shied away as their eyes met, looking down at the fire. Rylett seemed taught, stretched to breaking point. The Priestess twitched at every sound, every crunch and squelch, every satisfied noise she made. Ki-yu tried to whine, but it came out as a groan. She sped up her eating, her molars scraping the bone. Pull it apart, get it over with! She gnawed at the tendons, frantically trying to work it down. It did not matter where it came from, what it cost. The smell, the taste, the feeling was all there was.
“Ki-yu…?” someone said. She crunched through the bone to suck at the marrow. “Sweetheart…” The voice was familiar and kindly. The girl was making gibbering noises, not entirely aware. Then she was off the ground, curling tight within living blankets, abed at last. Can we sleep now? something small and weary asked. Is it done? Her pillow had a heartbeat. Ki-yu opened her eyes. She was trembling in her father’s arms again, being rocked gently by the fire. There was naught remaining of the leg but scattered bone and a fuzzy hoof.
She was coated in drying blood, a wretched, terrible thing. So was Baba, she realised. Horrified, she strained to pull from him, but he would not let her.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.” Slowly, softly, she drifted to sleep.
~*~
When Ki-yu awoke, she found that the fire was still burning. Kay-ut’s pyre had crested the sky, afternoon was setting in. Looking around she found Baba had disappeared, but Rylett was sitting with her head on her paws, looking into the fire with a look akin to longing. The girl sniffled, stretching her mouth in a long yawn.
Rylett shifted across from her, her brown eyes conveying clear disgust.
“He, uh, went to get some water,” she said, answering an unasked question. Why… oh. Bits of her meal were still coating her, and her new poncho. She was a mess. Sniffling, she turned away from the Priestess.
“Sorry…” she mumbled. She won’t want to see me now. Ki-yu tried to wipe the gore from her maw, the stickiness from her claws, but the muck had reached deep this time.
“Here,” Rylett said from behind her. Looking bashfully over one shoulder, she saw that the woman was offering her a fresh canteen. Ki-yu took it gratefully, gulping it down. The water cleaned her mouth but purified little else.
“I’m sorry…” Ki-yu whispered. “I… You shouldn’t have to see me like this…” It was quiet for a long moment.
“Ki-yu, look at me.” The girl half-turned her head, casting a dark eye back at the woman. The smoke from the fire coupled with the bright snow snuffed out all scent. The day had become overcast and heavy, the fire cast a godly light in Rylett’s eyes. “Can… I ask you something?” the woman queried. “Why did you apologise?” Ki-yu shrugged.
“I hurt her,” she said simply, toying with the phantom feeling of the grip about the doe’s throat. “Lots…” Rylett tilted her head, considering her words.
“Do all your hunts go this way?”
“No…” Ki-yu muttered. “I shouldn’t have gone for her…” Her tail lashed lazily at the snow. “Too big. Too dangerous.” She looked forlornly at the tutor, pulling her legs up before her.
“Wh-what was today’s lesson going to be?” Rylett snorted gently, shaking her head.
“I don’t think I’ve got the stomach for arithmetic now.” Ki-yu’s lip wobbled as she nodded stiffly.
“O-okay,” she whimpered. “I-I understand…” It’s only fair. She did her best. Rylett glanced at her, then took a longer look.
“Oh, Ki-yu…” she said softly. “I didn’t mean…” Curling her paws tightly she stood and moved round the fire to sit beside the dark girl. Hesitantly, as though testing a kettle’s temperature, the woman began softly stroking the predator’s head. “I didn’t mean it like that, good gracious, no.”
“You…? You’ll still…?” Ki-yu peered up at her. Rylett’s brow pinched together, her lips in a tight, almost pained smile.
“This was,” she shuddered, “almost too much at once.” Her paw was soft and gentle. “I won’t deny you still frighten me. That this,” she gestured to the nearby body, “doesn’t frighten me. But… I don’t think you’re a mindless killer, Ki-yu. I’ll keep teaching you if you’ll let me.” Ki-yu keened, trying to rub the soaring feeling she felt into Rylett’s paw. “Please, dear child, don’t!” she half-laughed, half-begged. “You’re covered in blood!”
“Oh,” Ki-yu mumbled, looking down at her wretched state. It really is a lot.
“Let’s get that sorted,” Baba called out as he huffed back up the embankment, two full canteens over his shoulder.
They tried, rather unsuccessfully, to heat the water over the fire, managing only to scorch one of their canteens. They managed to scrub some of the muck away with the stream water but decided against dousing her entirely due to hypothermia. Ki-yu felt the threat of a bath in her near future, even if she would enjoy the warmth.
Next came the issue of the carcass. Between them they collected enough wood to build an impromptu sled and began lashing it together. The mangled corpse of the vyrryn was stiffening now; on a warmer day it would be rotting. No matter how she tried to distract herself, she could not shake the grief for her. She knew it would pass in a few days, and she felt better for having a full stomach.
“Still thinking about this one, huh?” Baba rumbled beside her, tying a rope firmly about the animal’s middle. He smiled at her. “You were making that squinty face and twitching your nose.”
“I think about all of them,” she admitted. “But this one fought harder than most. She deserved better.” Ki-yu snorted, tying off her set of binds. “What about you?” she asked. “You’ve never hurt anything before.” Braq paused for a moment, his breath hitching.
“I’m going to tell you something… I should have told you a long time ago.” He brushed dirt from his knees. “Do you know where we are?” Baba asked her. She sniffed to place herself, then cursed the pervasive damp-smelling snow.
“The river?” she said, racking her memory. “A little south of the rapids.”
“Aye,” Baba nodded, “the rapids.” He grunted as he fastened the last lash about the doe. “That first night,” he said, sitting back, “after you hatched… We… I was so very scared.”
“Of me?”
“Or of someone finding you, and thereby us all being imprisoned.”
“You’ve told me this before,” Ki-yu said, tilting her head curiously. Baba took a steadying breath.
“What we’ve never told you, was that we were ready to do something terrible.”
“What?” Baba opened and closed his mouth, something clearly trying to escape him.
“Oh, Protector,” he mumbled. “I wish Turin was here…” Rylett rubbed a sympathetic paw on Braq’s shoulder. Why the rapids…? Ki-yu’s mind alighted on the answer.
“Oh,” she said simply. “You wanted to abandon me.” Braq’s face cringed, twisted as though in pain. In a way, it made perfect sense to Ki-yu. Baba and Turin would both do terrible things to save those they loved, and at that time that did not include her. It still hurt, but she understood.
“Ki-yu,” Rylett said, “remember how scared I was, but imagine that without anyone to guide them. It’s a credit to all of you that things didn’t go that way.”
“I get it,” she said, swallowing in a dry mouth. “Why didn’t you?”
“Turin,” Baba said at once. “Bless her, she saw you for what you were.” He scratched his face. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about that night. How scared I was. Of course, had I known then who you’d become… this brave, clever, caring young girl… I’d have never even considered it.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” she asked. Braq shrugged sullenly, the fire crackling towards embers.
“I think,” Rylett said, “he was afraid of what you’d think of him.” Baba sneered, as if she had told a sour joke.
“It’s unforgiveable,” he muttered, stroking the dead doe’s fur. “I knew you should know, but I just kept saying that you weren’t old enough. After a while… I started believing it.” The big man slumped somewhat, looking tired and old.
“But,” he said, “if I’ve learned something this whole time it’s that we’re more than our worst impulses, Ki-yu.” The girl sighed flippantly, smiling a crooked smile at her beloved father.
“It’s not that we’re different,” she said, curling up in his lap, “but how we make use of our differences, right?”
“Attagirl,” he chuckled, patting her fondly.
“You know, I will forgive you, Baba,” she decided. “So long as you carry me home.” He snorted.
“I’m not carrying you all the way home.”
“Yes you are.”
“…No, I’m not…”
~*~
The height from Baba’s shoulders was dizzying, how could he bear standing so tall?
“Wheeee!” she giggled, swaying with each step. “Hehehahaha!” If she leaned far enough one way, she could almost steer him! Between Baba and Rylett they were managing to make good progress back home, even if Ki-yu was trying to subtly lead them in circles. I’ve missed this, she realised. Missed them.
“Stop fidgeting before you spike yourself,” her chariot grumbled. So long as she stayed reasonably still, and Baba stayed reasonably calm, the poncho provided enough resistance to her father’s spines. Ki-yu gripped his soft, fuzzy ears, leaning forward to peer upside-down into his face.
“Bet you wish you got rid of me now, don’t ya!” she giggled, wearing her toothiest grin.
“It can be arranged,” he huffed. She poked her long tongue out at him, resettling herself with a kiss—“Mwa!”—on his forehead. Rylett chuckled drolly beside them.
Gradually, they made their way back along the riverbank along the path they had made. The sun had melted some of the ice in places, but that would refreeze overnight. The low sunlight cast the world in different shades, long shadows forming waving tracks across the land.
“Huh,” Ki-yu mumbled, leaning closer.
“Hey, what did I tell- Oof!” he grunted as Ki-yu leapt off him, landing in a puff of snow.
There were tracks in the snow. Large but stout legs had cut across the stream, moving parallel to their initial path downstream before turning east where they had veered south. Whatever it was had trailed them from the den. The prints were wide spaced but firmly planted, as though much weight was behind them. The impressions were oval shaped, tipped with long claws that were straight where a radji’s curved. She knew what it was without a scent but dug her nose into it to be sure. A shudder passed through her, her tail rising stiffly, her hackles raised. The smell was sure, strong, bringing with it other memories of the snow.
Slowly, she raised her head, her father dropping the sled at her expression.
“Are those ours?” Rylett asked. “I didn’t think we crossed the river.”
“We didn’t,” Baba said, eyes to the forest as he unslung the rifle. Ki-yu peeled back from the track, looking about nervously as they all pressed together.
“Roht,” she whispered with cold certainty. Both radji’s spines were bristling.
“How old?” Rylett asked, looking around warily.
“Did it snow whilst I was asleep?” Ki-yu asked Baba. To answer he simply primed the rifle, the shrill rising whine was the only sound beside their breathing.
“So close to the den?” he murmured. “To the lodge?”
“Baba… we’re dragging a lot of meat with us…”
“We aren’t far now,” he grunted, slinging the still armed rifle over his shoulder. “Rylett, help me with this.”
“You should leave it, it’s not–”
“No,” he said firmly, his eyes wide and alert. “It seems we need it. Lead on, keep an eye out.”
Their return to the buggy, whilst unmolested, could not have come soon enough.
“I think you’d better stay with us for a while, sweetheart,” Baba said firmly as the engine roared to life, quickly putting as much space between them and the silent woods as they could.
---
“Sappho says that to die is evil: so the gods judge. For they do not die.”
– Aristotle Rhetoric, 4th century BCE. 1398b = Sappho fr. 201 Voigt.