Turin, radji Cradle ecologist.

Date [standardised human time]: May 5th, 2120

(16 years, 4 months before the invasion of the radji Cradle).

Turin was pacing rapidly. She had twice been over the surveillance footage for any missed sign of Ki-yu and deleted it. She had checked, unpacked, and re-checked their first aid supplies. She had cleared the house of clutter and gone over their contingencies. But all the busy work had been done, and now Turin had to face it. This was it; this was the trap that Juran had set.

Braq’s voice had been curt and desperate on the radio having signalled her from Ki-yu’s den. A pair of children had been spotted on the mountain pass cameras, right where the roht tracks had been found. He had warned her to keep back, be ready to call assistance. It made sense, and without a second buggy she would not reach them for hours on foot anyway. But that left her and Imdi to sit and wait. Turin could not allow her fear to rule her, it would only distress her son.

Turin made a shaky cup of tea for both Imdi and herself, trying to distract them with his homework. It was a simple short essay, but the lad struggled with his letters at the best of times. Just sitting beside him, she reflected how much Imdi had grown. He was still a little boy, helpless in his own way, but clearly a person besides. What a strange symbiosis parenthood is; we need our children as much as they need us. Her mind wandered to the two youth on the trail camera. It could only have been Yotun and Callio, they were the closest, and the most likely to go wandering.

Juran’s played us, she realised. Either we call for help and acknowledge that there’s dangerous predators here, or we feign ignorance and become complicit. Either way…

“Why…?” she whispered absentmindedly.

“Why what, Mama?” Imdi asked beside her. She shook her head, giving him a casual pat.

“Sorry sweetheart, I got distracted.” If we call for help we damn ourselves, if we don’t we damn ourselves again. We can hide Ki-yu, but we can’t hide this…

Turin snatched up the radio when it burst into static. It was something of a relief, even if it was short lived. The mountainous terrain interfered with the signal, but Braq’s broken voice told her enough. The girl is dead, all others injured. She stood there with the silent handheld pressed to her ear. She heard the ocean roar about her mind, crashing white water above a darkened abyss. Braq and Ki-yu are still alive. She took the thought and lit it as a lamp to light her cabin.

"No,” she whispered. He can play his game, but I won't.

Turin called the ambulance right away. It would be at least two hours before a first responder reached them from the city. At the very least that gave them plenty of time to hide their daughter away. She was shaking as she made the last of three calls, the ringing signal grating against her quills.

“What’s happening Mama?” Imdi asked, still sitting at the table. With a heavy breath, she sat beside him once more. He looked at her quizzically as she pulled him away from his homework.

“It, uh, it seems that Callio and Yotun wandered onto the property. They’ve been hurt.”

“Hurt?” he squeaked. “Hurt bad?” She nodded, trying to keep her expression calm rather than crestfallen.

“You know the predators we’ve been trying to find?”

“Th-the ones in the forest? That shouldn’t be there?”

“It seems one found them. Baba and Ku got to them quickly, but not quickly enough.” Turin felt like her boat had sprung a leak as she looked into Imdi’s worried eyes. “Oh, sweetheart… I’m so sorry…”

~*~

They heard the buggy coming before they saw it, the roar of its engine waking Turin from the windowsill with a start. Imdi awoke in her lap as she moved to her feet, rubbing his raw eyes groggily. A quick glance at the clock told her it had been about an hour. She updated the silent countdown in her head, a sliver of worry that she had called for help too soon.

“Oh,” Imdi whimpered, looking up at her with a tear-dried face.

“Shh…” she coddled him. “Don’t worry.”

The buggy came screeching to a halt outside, and Turin took a breath to steady herself. We just have to keep moving, crest one wave and then the next.

Braq’s silhouette was already exiting the vehicle as she charged out the front door and toward the buggy. The afternoon sun had crashed into a meagre pale sundown, the lightest of yellows across the western sky.

“Braq!” she called out, blinded by the vehicle’s headlights. She almost stopped before she reached them, the smell of blood was frightfully strong. “Wha-?!”

“Keep him back!” Braq barked, cutting off the engine and the lights before he leaned into the backseat. Turin set down their son with a quick kiss. She hurried forward as Braq pulled back. Their daughter hung limply in his arms, slumping with fatigue. A strip of pale fabric had been tied tight about her tail, slowly staining scarlet.

“Oh, Protector…” Turin moaned, reaching for the girl. Her endarkened eyelids fluttered at her voice, lips drawing into a pained smile as she felt Turin’s paw on her face.

“Mama…” she mumbled.

“It’s okay,” Turin whispered, “you’re home now.” Yotun was sitting idly in the passenger seat, watching them intensely. The look on his tear marked face was one Turin thought should belong on war veterans and cattle victims, not children.

“Th-the girl?” she asked weakly.

“She’s on the backseat,” Braq said hoarsely, blocking her path as she tried to look around him. “D-don’t,” he groaned. “Just don’t.” Yotun slid out of his seat. Turin glanced over at her son who was fretting with his claws nearby. “Imdi, sweetheart, go help Yotun inside.”

“O-okay,” he mumbled. His eyes went wide at the long gashes in the approaching boy’s forearm, but he just swallowed hard and took his other paw. “Is Ku going to be okay?” he asked worriedly.

“Ku…” Yotun wheezed, almost a laugh.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she murmured, nodding to the lodge. “Go on.” She looked up at her partners haggard face, silently asking the same.

“Broken tail,” he said, “cr-cracked ribs I’d suspect.”

“Internal damage? A haemorrhage?”

“N-no I don’t think so,” he panted, hobbling past her toward the house. The breath left her at the sight of her beloved’s back.

“Braq!” she gasped. A pair of long diagonal slashes had been cut from shoulder blade to pelvis, broken spines hanging loosely. Whilst the bleeding had stopped, the exposed tissue was shifting and raw beneath his torn hide. He was also limping, she saw, a fearful bitemark around his right ankle. Turin wanted to scream as she started after him.

“I’m okay,” he grunted, shifting all his weight onto his left leg as he walked. No, no you’re not! “Looks worse than it is. You called the parents?” he continued, ignoring their torment.

“Y-yeah,” she mumbled as they hurried through the threshold. Imdi had sat Yotun on the couch and was carefully setting out one of the first aid kits. The skinny boy looked up stiffly as they entered. “At least Laenar and Arrut. They’ll be here soon. Teraka didn’t answer.” Braq let out a shuddering sigh.

“W-we need to get her sorted before they arrive,” he said. With a short yip of pain, Ki-yu reached out for the couch. Her dark paw gripped Yotun’s shoulder stopping them from passing, the boy wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the contact. Ki-yu’s voice was slurred and lethargic, each breath heavy and deliberate.

“Pretty… drawings…” she wheezed. “Remember… burn… the forest…” Yotun bristled. Turin reached down and gently unhooked her claws, taking some comfort in their strength still despite her injuries.

“Hide her,” she told Braq. He shook his head.

“I n-need to get Callio from the buggy.”

“No, you look after Ki-yu,” she said firmly. “I’ll go get her.”

“N-no, it’s bad, I ca-”

“Braq, beloved. Look after her.” Braq looked quickly from Turin to the girl in his arms, before reluctantly nodding. Ki-yu was still mumbling as Braq walked with her down to her hidden bedding room.

“W-woods… stars…” Turin heard her say.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Braq whispered to her. “Try and rest.” Imdi tugged at Turin’s leg.

“Baba’s hurt…” her son mumbled.

“I know,” she said, rubbing his scalp. “He’s just got to look after Ki-yu for a little while. Okay?”

“O-okay…” He looked at her more insistently. “Mama, is Ku gonna be alright?”

“I…” He should not have to see any of this. The words caught in her throat, so she just nodded. “Why don’t you go help Baba, hm?”

“Okay…” he mumbled, doddering down the gloomy hall after them. Turin wished she could join them, to hold them all close and whisper sweet nothings.

If I stop now, I’ll drown.

Turin moved to where Imdi had studiously spread out the first aid kit and crouched down.

“Hey,” she said as softly as possible. “I need to take a look at that.”

Yotun flinched as she touched him, from fear or pain she knew not which. Turin pulled the arm straight as tenderly as she could. Yotun whimpered as she washed out the wound but otherwise said nothing. He just sat there, numb, quiet, and broken. The mother in her wailed. I can mend his arm at least. She bandaged it carefully, gave him some painkillers and told him to try and rest.

Still, even that task was preferable to what Turin had to do next. She retrieved some white sheets from the laundry. They were not true funerary shrouds, specially thickened to prevent the dead’s quills from piercing the fabric, but they would do.

The pre-night gloom was setting in as Turin stepped outside again. The cool air carried a crying choir of the forests creatures, making Turin feel like she was standing in a dream. She walked stiffly out to the buggy, stopping before she had the chance to look inside. The smell had only grown, but it was more than mere disgust; a bubble of terror encircled the vehicle. Crushing down the thundering panic before it built, Turin peered into the interior. On one backseat was a small body, partially obscured by a bloodied poncho. Callio’s creamy fur peaked from beneath the fabric in places, tinged a dark blue. A tide of azure had flowed down into the seats, building a dried fractal pattern in the footwell.

Turin turned away, stifling a keen. She remembered their first meeting, how that harrowing confrontation had become a cheerful moment of play by the seaside. She was so happy, Turin recalled. So bright. No more… Collecting herself, she retrieved the rifle, wedged haphazardly into the driver’s door. The metalwork had buckled around the central chamber, she saw; it would take some work to fix. She shrugged the strap over her shoulder and turned back to the body. I will not flinch, she told herself as she pulled back the covering. We owe her that much.

She did not balk, but it hurt her not to.

Callio lay on her side with closed eyes, curled up as if asleep. Even with the bent, grasping of her still paws, the stiffened, slightly twisted posture… she was as at peace as she could be. Turin spread the sheet across the ground and moved to lay the girl to rest. She shuddered and stopped when shifting the torso made the head turn unnaturally, biting into the back of her own paw to stop herself screaming. This could have been Braq… or Ki-yu… or even Imdi… Oh, Protector… With a shaky sigh she laid her down on the sheet and, as respectfully as she could, Turin enwrapped the girl in white. The death of her aunt had been the first time Turin had seen loss, felt grief. To see that plump woman, full of raucous laughter, fond of gaiety and song, reduced to a body enwrapped and entombed…

Turin decided that she hated pale sheets as she carried Callio inside.

She laid body on the table, then placed the broken weapon on the counter. Yotun still sat stiffly on the couch, as unmoving as a statue. Turin covered the first shawl with a thicker sheet, the form appearing less and less like a person. Looking down she saw blood had soaked onto her overalls, all over her paws. The clothing was ruined, but Turin would never want to wear it again anyway. She stripped and tossed her clothing into the bin. It felt as though the smell had sunk through her skin. She moved to the sink, trying to scrub the blood from herself, but the sponge just came away blue. Blue with a child’s blood… Focus! She turned on the hot water until it was near scalding, trying to clean beneath her claws. It sloughed off her, falling into the inky depths. Turin made a quiet sob, shaking her head to try and will away her wet eyes.

“Mama?” Imdi squeaked behind her. Turin coughed, drying her hands.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she said, quickly wiping her tears. The boy was looking at the body with tearful eyes.

“Wh-what’s happening?” Falling to one knee, she pulled him to her breast.

“Something terrible, love.” She kissed his forehead, the smell of him like a prescient memory, cleansing the nauseating tones of death.

“Mama… I’m scared.”

“I know, it’ll be okay,” she whispered, swallowing to stop her voice from breaking.

“I d-don’t want to be scared,” he whispered. “I wanna be fearless, like you.” Turin let out a tearful chuckle. She leaned back against the cabinet, holding her son’s head gently in her paws.

“I’m not fearless,” she told him. His dark brown eyes were searching her own, the scar on his lip twitching. “Wanna know a secret? Everyone feels scared from time to time.”

“Even Ku?”

“Aheh… maybe a little.” She smiled as she flattened his spines. My handsome little man. “Listen. There’ll be many times in your life when you feel afraid.” She curled a knuckle on his breast. “Where you feel it ball up, right here, and you want to run away and hide. That fear will always be there. But you don’t have to run and hide. That fear can make you strong and brave if you let it push you. And the only way to do that is to try. So,” she rubbed his cheeks with the balls of her thumbs, ”will you be brave?” He snuffled, his tiny face pulling into a fretted smile.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll try.” She brought her forehead to his.

“Good boy.” The soft fur of his face tickled her nose.

If I stop now I’ll drown.

“We’ll, uh, be having visitors soon,” she rasped, pulling back. “I… need to get ready… Why don’t you try and get ready for bed, hm?” The boy nodded a little reluctantly, disappearing down the hall once more.

Turin tried to distract herself with scrubbing through the security footage again, focusing her efforts on the hills around the attack. All trace of her needs to be cleared. But in the corner of her eye, she saw Imdi come toddling back. He sat on the couch beside the thinner boy.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” the other boy replied. Yotun’s eyes were foggy and distant.

“Your arm…” Imdi mumbled, glancing cagily at him. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” Yotun sniffed. He looked at the table, as though seeing it for the first time. The white cloth was a shroud over too small a body. “Your… ‘sister’… a pyq?”

“My sister,” Imdi said dryly, his gaze also lingering on the dead girl. “The pyq.” He sniffed. Then he sniffled. Very quickly he was crying, the quiet sound breaking Yotun from his stupor. An instant later the older boy was sobbing too and, in a moment that broke Turin’s heart, he put his working arm around the younger boy. The two leaned on each other for strength and cried. Turin did what she could. She lit the fire, gave them blankets and made some more tea. When she brought it to them, she found they had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Soon thereafter, Braq hobbled back into the room. Her beloved wore a weary, complex expression as he looked at the sleeping boys, but she could see him take note of, then close off the sight of the girl on the table.

“Passed out,” he reported, moving to her side. “She was in a lot of pain. I’ve, uh, put some ice on her ribs, best we can do is to keep her still for a bit.”

“Oh, she’ll hate that,” Turin mumbled. She nodded to the boys. “This one should be okay, at least in the arm.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“He, uh… was brave,” Braq conferred quietly. “I think he tried to lure it away from… from her, but…” He shook his head. “Stupid boy… What about the cameras?”

“Just going over the more recent stuff,” Turin said. Braq groaned deeply, then hissed at the twisting broken skin of his back as he leaned forward. Turin stood and pulled him toward to the better lit kitchen.

“Come here, let me sort you out.” Grumbling, her partner begrudgingly followed her.

His ankle had started to swell, the skin a deep purple. The idiot has probably made it worse by walking on it, she decided, but kept the thought to herself. It would do no good to chastise him now. They applied some ice to bring down the swelling, but it would need to be thoroughly washed as well. Making him swallow some painkillers, she laid him face down on the countertop to clean his back.

“What happened?” she asked as she brought some hot water and cloth.

“She’d caught scent of it, found a path it was using regularly. We set up the bait, had headed back to her den to check the cameras.” He hissed as she layered on the first cloth. “That’s when we saw them. They were heading—ah!—right for it. I-I drove as fast as I could but…” His paws shook with anxious energy. “I told her to stay back, s-stay hidden but she didn’t listen. Heh,” he snorted sardonically. “Good thing too.” He looked her dead in the eye over his shoulder. “She killed it. Damn near ripped its head off.” Turin focused hard on the cleaning, trying not to mull over the implications. The disinfectant stung more than the water, Braq’s back taught from stress, fatigue, and pain. Turin kept talking to distract him.

“If, um, someone finds it, they’ll see her teeth marks…”

“I hid that,” he said. “Gun nearly blew apart, but I shot it point blank. Should look like I got it.” Yes… that could work… She took the opportunity to wash the wound in his ankle, the mucky, bloodied fluid staining the floor.

“I’ll have to clean that up,” Braq groaned, his face pressing into the countertop. Turin chuckled, tossing down a towel.

“You better,” she said glibly. Now cleaned, she could see the clear paired punctures where the roht’s canines had dug in, one tooth piercing to the bone. She wrapped it up tightly.

“Lover… the paramedics will have to have a look at this.”

“Figured,” he grumbled. Now clean, she sutured shut the broken hide of her beloved’s broad back. It would scar, and he may even lose quills, but it would heal. Braq got up almost before the last suture went in.

“You should sit and rest,” she told him, grabbing his wrist.

“So should you,” he said without spite. His paw came up beneath her chin, and she saw in his eyes the same wailing despair she felt. If I stop now I’ll drown. Braq made to hug her, but she stopped him with a palm on his chest.

“Please don’t…” she pleaded. She needed to stay strong for now. He took her paw and rubbed it absently but nodded. With a shaky sniff, he gestured to the sleeping boys.

“One of us needs to talk to him,” he said. “Which one do you want?”

“I-I’ll do it. Go keep an eye on the kids.” She squeezed his paw and kissed it. “We’ll be okay.”

“I know,” he said, leaving her leaning against the counter. He at least seemed to believe it. Braq leaned over the couch and lifted his son as carefully as he could, wincing at the pain in his foot. He nestled him in the crook of his massive arms, the child rolling closer to his chest in his sleep as he walked down to his room.

With a heavy sigh Turin sat down on the couch beside Yotun, still curled up in sleep.

“Yotun?” She tapped his knee. He stirred quickly with a frantic, panicked breath, crawling across the cushions. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Y-you didn’t,” he mumbled, drawing the blanket about him.

“Is your arm still hurting?” The boy nodded weakly, not meeting her eyes.

“Here,” she gave him his lukewarm cup of tea, noticing how his paws twitched and shook. Turin wished she could give him some time to recover, to reconcile, but they only had minutes now at best.

“I’m… so very sorry, sweetie,” she said softly, “but we need to talk before your parents get here.” Yotun swallowed hard.

“What’d y-you tell them?”

“That you’ve been hurt, and that a predator did it.” Turin sighed. “But we’re not talking about that, are we? We’re talking about Ki-yu.” Yotun looked at her like she had grown antlers, but the expression passed quickly.

“I k-kinda guessed,” he whispered. “But it didn’t make sense. You’ve been keeping her here? This whole time?”

“Yes,” she said. “I wish you could get the chance to know her properly.”

“She… left me…” he mumbled. “Alone… in the dark…”

“Yes. And afterward she turned up here in the middle of the night, a shivering, broken wreck. I’ve never seen her cry so much.” The boy looked up at her mistily.

“She… cried?” He shook his head morosely. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all over now…”

“Is it?” Turin asked, willing fire into her voice. “She certainly doesn’t seem to think so. ‘Burn the forest?’” He flinched. “She knows the risks of her discovery, far better than anyone. She knows that if it comes to it…” Turin stopped before she broke down. “And yet, she risked it all for you. In a heartbeat. She put her trust in you, Yotun.”

“Sh-she sh-shouldn’t have… I-I’m just a st-stupid kid!”

“I–” The alarm wailed for a split-second before Turin turned reached over and turned it all off, hiding their security system.

“Wh-what was that?”

“Proximity alert. Someone’s coming.”

“My parents?”

“Most likely.” Yotun drew himself down. This isn’t working… Braq came limping up the hall.

“She’s still asleep, secure,” he said.

“Okay,” Turin breathed. “Then sit down, for Kay-ut’s sake, before you make that worse.” He settled into the windowsill seat. Turin placed a paw on Yotun’s uninjured arm.

“They’ll kill her,” she said firmly. “If you mention her at all, to anyone, they’ll kill her.”

“M-my p-parents wouldn’t–”

“Yes,” Turin said with a sad smile, knowing as all parents do. “They absolutely would.”

”They’d tell someone else at the very least,” Braq sighed. “And then they’d come for us all.”

“A-and they’d burn it all down to find her,” the boy shuddered. The hovercar’s thwopping was now audible.

“We shouldn’t have to ask this of you, lad,” Braq said. “You’ve suffered too much already. But I think you know we’d both be dead right now without her.” Turin’s stomach rolled. Yotun looked fearfully between the two of them.

“Y-you’re asking me to lie?!”

“From what she’s told us, you’re the closest thing Ki-yu’s ever had to a real friend,” Turin implored him. “We’re asking you to save her.” Braq looked out of the window as she said it.

“They’re here.”

A door slammed outside. If I stop now I’ll drown. Turin gave his arm one last squeeze.

“Our lives are in your paws, Yotun.”

Please, please, please save her…

“Yotun!” Laenar cried out desperately, the front door thrown open as they charged in. Turin backed off as quickly as she could, knowing better than to come between them now.

“Oh, my boy!” The mother fell to her knees beside him. “Thank The Protector! Oh, your arm! Gods!” Stopping in the middle of the room, Arrut drew a quick sharp breath, his eyes on the table.

“Mercy…” he said simply, the light from the fireplace casting long shadows across the room. Laenar made a muted gasp, pulling Yotun tight against her. “The girl…?”

“Callio,” Braq said quietly. It was almost a whimper. There was a long silence, the only sound Laenar’s muted breathing.

“Wh-where’s the ambulance?” Arrut asked weakly. “Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

“Too late,” Braq murmured mournfully. “It… it all happened too fast.”

“There’s one coming now,” Turin said, rubbing her forehead. “To… collect the body.”

“That’s not an ambulance,” Laenar said weakly. Arrut pulled his eyes away from the table, falling heavily into the chair beside Braq.

“My… stars man,” he murmured. “The state of your back…”

“Think of your son, you idiot!” Laenar gasped. Arrut shot her an incredulous look back.

“The wounds clean. H-he should be alright physically–” Turin started.

“Alright?! He’s been mauled!” She pulled her son’s face up to her. “What h-happened? Why were you out there?” His expression crumpled.

“We wanted to see the woods,” he said quietly.

“Wha- Why…?” The pudgy woman suddenly glared at Turin. “You did this! You perverted pair of–!”

“Laenar!” Arrut yelled. “That’s enough!”

“No, I’m sick of these people! Sick of this place! Why don’t you just–!”

“Shut up, Mother, shut up!” Yotun started yelling. “I did this, this’s my fault!” He winced as he jerked his slashed arm at them. “Braq saved me!”

”You’ve been through a lot, you don’t–!”

“M-my fau-lt! My-!” His words became incoherent, a violent sorrowful wailing. Laenar relented, looking as broken as her son. The boy was inconsolable, unable to speak, so Braq recounted what had happened. The parents listened intently, not saying a word. He told them how they had suspected something was not right in the Brackwood, carefully leaving out the signs of roht they had kept to themselves. He told them that he had found a dead vyrryn and tracks in the snow and had been watching the cameras when he had spotted the children. Braq’s voice broke when he explained how he had not got there in time. As his voice trailed off Turin knew that he was replaying those dreadful moments over and over again in his head.

Arrut stood, rubbing his mouth.

“Why didn’t you call the authorities?” he asked. “If you suspected there was this roht creature about, why didn’t you call for help?” Turin and Braq shared a glance.

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Roht were never found here. They’re practically extinct.”

“So, what?” Laenar grunted. “You based your safety, all our safety, on your intuition?”

“No,” Braq said. “We’ve found… plasma wounds on animals, many fatal. Someone else has been in our woods.” He rubbed his face with both paws. “We don’t know who to trust.”

“And you think, what they’re trying to scare you off?” She scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you want,” Turin snapped. “We’ve got the photos to prove that someone’s been shooting our animals.”

“But… who would go wandering out here?” Arrut asked. “Most people are terrified of this place.”

Before anyone could answer, the sound of another arriving vehicle drew their attention, Braq glancing out the window. He leaned forward.

“Well… you were right,” he said. “It’s not an ambulance.” A quiet stillness came over them as the engine died; the gravel outside crunched beneath approaching steps. Moonlight filtered through the front window; the shadow of an impossibly tall man descended across their home. The phantom coalesced by the threshold, the figure looming for a moment. Then he straightened and knocked. Nobody moved. He knocked again, the noise rattling about Turin’s skull. She looked over at Braq and saw ire and worry warring in his eyes. A third knock, more insistent. Fuck…

Turin walked over and opened the door.

“Good evening Turin,” Juran said, giving her the slightest bow. His pale eyes hovered like pinpricks in the night.

“Juran. What’re you… doing… here…” Her voice left her as she saw who stood behind him. Juran strode past her as she struggled to form a thought.

“We were forwarded a rather desperate sounding emergency call. Needless to say, we came as soon as we could.” There was a crashing, thundering sound in Turin’s ears. The other just stood there, looking at her expectantly. “Oh dear, nasty business this,” Juran was saying, stepping closer to the body. He clicked his tongue, as though examining shoddy craftmanship. “Very nasty business.” Juran looked quickly around the room, his eyes devouring all they saw. “And two survivors?” He clapped his paws together. “We were worried.”

“We?” Braq asked hoarsely.

“Oh, yes, I was meeting with an old friend.”

He strode in with the same confidence as the extermination officer.

“Teraka…” Arrut gasped. Juran stopped. Everyone stopped. They all just looked at him. Teraka looked nonplussed for a moment, but then he noticed the other parents’ gaze. His eyes passed over them questioningly.

“T-Teraka,” Turin gulped. “I couldn’t reach you… you didn’t…” The man looked at the body, then at Yotun. The lad was shaking, sobbing again in his mother’s arms.

“What is this?” Teraka hissed, his suave exterior melting away. Juran’s pale eyes narrowed, his head moving in a steady glacial turn to Turin. For the first time, she felt like she was actually looking at him. A long time ago, she would have called his expression predatory; now she would simply call it cruel.

“No…” Teraka gasped, pushing Juran aside as he staggered forward. He moved around the table like he feared it would cut him. Tenderly, he pulled back the sheets. It was… disturbing, how little the man reacted. He stilled, all that constant movement, those ceaseless platitudes quieted. He just stood there and looked.

“I suppose we’ve found what killed that brynn foal,” Juran said thinly. The chair squealed as Braq stood, her husband’s face contorting from the pain in his leg. Juran might have been taller, but Braq was undoubtedly the bigger man.

“Really?” he said, looking up at him. “’Cause I’d say that roht was only two or three years old. It would have been an infant when that brynn was killed.”

“Ah, quite right you are,” Juran said with a flash of teeth. “There must have been others.” Her beloved’s fists were held so tight the claws bit into his palms. “Well, regardless this will have to be thoroughly investigated. And of–” Juran was interrupted as Teraka strode over and struck him across the face. The tall man toppled into the bookshelf, clutching at his snout as their small library came tumbling down around him.

“Bastard!” Teraka snarled, his claws digging into Juran’s throat. A shout went out, Turin knew not from who, as the two men struggled. Laenar was gasping noisily trying to shield her son; Arrut and Braq trying to pull the raging father back but finding Teraka’s quills before them. Juran’s paws sinched tight around the smaller man’s wrists, and with a ferocious roar he stood as quickly as he could, headbutting Teraka under the chin. Teraka staggered backward into the table, the legs screaming murder against the woodwork, Turin only barely stopping Callio’s body from sliding from it. The others were yelling at them, but the two men did not care as they traded blows like trained fighters. They fought viciously, reminding Turin of how Ki-yu hunted; no movement was wasted, no moment savoured. Teraka ducked under a wide backhand, jabbing with his claws for Juran’s chest. Juran blocked with his offhand, using his greater reach to keep Teraka at bay. He threw a brutal left hook that Teraka countered, then trapped. Growling in pain, Juran blocked Teraka’s follow-up, snatching a firm grip about the smaller man’s throat. His grip was so tight Turin saw his claws draw blood. Choking, Teraka kneed him in the groin, then palm struck him in the gullet. The two fell back wheezing, circling one another with quills out and eyes wide with rage.

“You’ve taken everything from me!” Teraka howled. Juran glared at him with his pale eyes, blood flowing down from his snout. “My job! My decency! My daughter!”

“You knew the cost!” he spat back. “It’s you who’ve betrayed my trust. I thought better of you…”

Surging in, Braq gripped Teraka’s left arm, trying to twist it around his back before the fight could resume. But the enraged father kicked the other man’s weakened leg out from under him, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. With a bellowing cry Arrut tackled Juran around the middle, the two crashing into the kitchen tiles. Teraka moved to make after them, but Braq took the opportunity to swipe out Teraka’s legs from the floor, evening the score. Growling like an animal, Braq pinned him on his back. Wrestling free of Arrut, Juran rose forward with murderous intent in his pale eyes. Fuck this! Turin snatched up the rifle where it still lay on the counter, levelling it at the tall man’s back.

“Hey!” she snarled, the sound of her ratcheting the lever stalling the melee. The weapon had been damaged by the roht; Turin doubted it would fire at all, but the threat was sufficient. “I will not have any more blood spilled in my house!” Teraka struggled in Braq’s grapple.

“There is more at stake than this little shack!” the man hissed.

“Mind your words, Teraka,” Juran’s voice was as thin and sharp as a needle. “Or the cost will be far greater than one little girl.”

“Enough!” Turin roared. “Juran, we’ll cooperate with whatever investigation you deem necessary,” she barked, hiding the fearful lie behind the fire in her voice. “But for now, you’re leaving. I suggest you get that nose looked at.” There was a long and painful silence. The tall man regained his posture, wiping his nose.

“Thank you,” he said with a sickly-sweet smile. There was blood in his teeth. “My apologies for the disturbance, that was most unprofessional. I’ll be in touch.” With one last icy look at them all, he strode out into the night. Teraka struggled beneath Braq as his car shot up into the sky.

“Why’d you do that?!” he spat when he finally released him. “Why’d you do that, wh-why?!” And then he was crying, a pitiful, ruined wailing as he almost fell over the body of his little girl. They could not pull him away; he just kept crying. He was crying when Yotun left with his parents, and he was still crying when the ambulance finally arrived to take her away.

~*~

Ki-yu’s breathing had steadied, ice and a pillow across her chest seeming to help her sleep. Pyq were strong, and the bone had not shifted. The tail required more work—a splint and sutures—but the girl had slept through their treatment. With enough time, they were confident she would suffer no more than a new scar.

“You’re tired no doubt sweetheart,” Turin murmured as she watched her. “Some rest will do you good.” But food would do you better, something warm and… Her paw brushed across Ki-yu’s sheets, bloodied a fiery crimson. The mother swallowed a sob as she thought of Callio again. Ki-yu made a groaning sound, shifting slightly as her dark eyes flickered open. She peered up at Turin curiously, and for a second she almost seemed bemused. But then she felt her ribs, the ache making her whine.

“Hey,” Turin cooed, feeling the warmth of her scalp. “How do you feel?”

“Thirsty,” she rasped. Turin reached back for the cup of water she had brought.

“Here,” she whispered, bringing it to her scaly lips. “We’ll get you something to eat tomorrow.” Ki-yu gulped it down, then coughed slightly.

“I’ll be okay–”

“No, you’ll eat tomorrow,” Turin said, looking at her sharply. Ki-yu rattled a small huff but nodded.

“Wh-what happened?” she asked. “I thought I heard shouting…” Turin rubbed her paws on her knees.

“Teraka… I don’t think anyone would ever take that well…” Ki-yu scrunched up her face. A moment later recollection returned.

“Oh… I–” She started panting quickly, snorting out wet sobs. The girl dropped her head heavily onto her pillow, wet tears welling in her eyes. Snuffling, she started beating her snout against her bedding.

“Hey… sweetheart…” Turin purred, rubbing her shoulder. “Talk to me…” Ki-yu swallowed, a sound that was almost an Umph!

“I-I w-wasn’t f-fast enough, wa-sn’t good enough-!” The mother pushed her way onto the bed, laying her head on the damp pillow as she pulled her as tightly against her as she could.

“Shhh… You were superb.”

“B-but she-!” Ki-yu sniffled against her.

“You gave her a fighting chance, sweetie. You couldn’t have done any more.” Ki-yu was silent for a short moment, nuzzling into her fuzzy chest. Turin hoped it gave the girl the same comfort as her.

“Yotun?”

“He’s gone home with his parents. So far, he hasn’t told them about you at all.”

“Wh-what happens now?” she asked weakly.

“We’ll sort that out,” Turin sighed. “Don’t you worry.” Turin sat up as a tiny figure draped in a long blanket waddled through the doorframe.

“Hey Ku,” Imdi squeaked.

“Hey dingus,” Ki-yu sniffled, making the little boy smile meekly.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“Better,” she said, stretching out as she kept her eyes on the little radji. “How about you?”

“Okay,” he mumbled, looking at her abashedly. “I, uh, just wanted to say i-it’s okay if you feel scared. I f-feel scared too, but…” He fidgeted with his claws. My brave little man.

Ki-yu made a tired keen.

“Wanna stay here tonight?” she asked. He nodded fervently. Ki-yu smiled, spreading out the bedsheets. Imdi wriggled in beside her, the girl wrapping her long arms around him as she brushed down his spines.

“How about a song?” Ki-yu said with a wry smile. Turin sighed out a tired laugh.

“What do you think, Imdi?” she asked.

“All-mother’s prayer?” he replied. Turin always liked that one. It made her smile.

“Okay,” she said. “Just the one. Close your eyes.” The children settled in snugly, Turin singing as sweetly as she could.

“Kay-ut, All-mother, hear my prayer.

Hush, keep it quiet, simple, and fair.

Ki-ra hold your notes, Ki-yu stop your games.

And listen to children in their bedding frames.

A prayer for mummy, I know that’s right.

We played in the tunnels by candlelight.

The soft was clay, and the hard was rock.

Oh, All-mother save daddy, I almost forgot!

A wish for my sister whom I know the best.

I tell her I love her, and she gets the rest.

One more for brother, he lay next to me.

I’ve never adored another like he.

Oh, thank you Kay-ut for a lovely day.

For lighting your pyre to show me the way.

I’m forgetting someone, now who could that be?

Oh, of course! How silly! All-mother bless me.”

Her children were fast asleep as she finished the melody. Their peaceful stillness caused an ache in her heart.

“Goodnight sweethearts,” she whispered as she kissed their foreheads. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She rose and shut the door as quietly as she could.

Her beloved was sitting in bed with a wan expression. The paramedics had given both Braq and Yotun a once over, and thoroughly chastised the man for staying on his feet. Her husband had denied being taken to hospital immediately, so had been ordered to remain bedridden until he would be collected in the morning.

“Can’t you sleep?” Turin said softly, Braq shaking his head stiffly. “No,” she said breathily. “I don’t think I can either. Th-the kids seem a little better. They help each other, I guess.”

“It’s Yotun I’d worry about,” Braq said numbly. “The lad… he’s been through a lot.” He drew in a deep breath. “And Teraka, thinking about it. No telling what he’ll do now. Goddess… that poor girl…” Turin scrubbed her paws in the basin, then threw some water on her face.

“What do you suppose he meant? ‘There’s more at stake than this little shack?’” Braq just shrugged absently. “I’ve been thinking, mutilating the roht was the right decision, but we also need to go over the house again.” She started pacing. “We should be as truthful as we can, go public with everything except Ki-yu. We knew there was something in the woods but couldn’t be sure. We also knew that Juran and Teraka had been killing our animals, we’ve got some photos of their kills. We can use all that to make a case, bring it to the inquest.”

“Turin,” Braq mumbled.

“We’ll have to hide her as soon as possible, somewhere more remote,” she continued. “Deeper into the woods perhaps? Or find a den far across the valleys. But she can’t be too far removed so that we can keep an eye on her. She needs to be fed, so we’ll have to go stash her something…”

“Turin.”

“I think we should assume from now on that all our actions are being monitored, so that way–”

“Beloved…” Braq’s rough paw caught her wrist, Turin stopping to look down at her partner. He looked up at her earnestly. “It’s okay… you can stop now.”

“I…” The water flows in around her. “Every moment counts, we’ve got–“

“Tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll start early. But… please… you need to stop.” Turin shook her head.

“N-no, I- if I stop-!” Braq’s eyes grew teary, and she felt her fear ball in her chest. She hugged his head close where she stood, her lovers tears wetting her navel. “I-I-” Braq lovingly pulled her down into a tight hug. She felt castaway; her boat beached on some forgotten shore.

“Oh stars, Braq…” she whispered, exhausted as the surf crashed about her mind. “I’m s-so scared…”

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “It’ll be okay.”

Together, on that little island, they sobbed themselves to sleep.

---

“Men at some times are makers of their fates:

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”

– Cassius, in Julius Caesar, Act I Scene 2. Written by W. Shakespeare, 1599.