Braq, radji Cradle ecologist.

Date [standardised human time]: January 27th, 2123

(13 years, 7 months before the invasion of the radji Cradle).

Braq awoke with a start, shivering. The lancing pain in his leg was so raw he could feel the phantom teeth digging deeper; he had to fight for a moment to resist lashing out. “Not real…” he mumbled groggily, kicking free the limb ensnared in bed sheets. The predator was long dead, and the girl with it. Turin murmured in her sleep beside him, her caramel-coloured body curled up tightly. The temperature had dropped overnight, and winter, it seemed, had come early. I won’t sleep now, not with this ache… Braq swallowed a groan, rolling out into the cold air. The limb was stiff as he limped around their bed, the husband pausing for a moment to draw the blankets closer around her. As quietly as his ankle would allow, he crept out into the hallway, making his way to the living room. A nice cup of tea would warm me up.

A shadow shifted as he shuffled into the room. The movement startled him, his quills flaring for a moment. Turning quickly, Braq almost called out, but he recognised the small figure sitting by the windowsill.

“Imdi!” he gasped, the lad half-jumping out of his fur. “Goddess…”

“S-sorry Dad! Did I wake you?” The boy had draped a blanket around his shoulders, Braq’s sonophone pulled close to him. His son had been playing with the stops.

“No,” he replied, limping over. He tapped the meat of his leg as he sat down, Imdi nodding tentatively. “What about you? Couldn’t sleep?” Imdi shook his head, his paws slowly brushing off the instrument.

“No,” he mumbled.

“Bad dreams?” Imdi just shrugged, fiddling with the instrument’s woodwork. Braq pursed his lips, looking at his son. Imdi was ever a messy child, the tangled fur behind his ears sticking out at odd angles. He would frequently return from playing outdoors with fresh cuts, yet no longer tears; his adventurousness inherited from his sister. Not that she’s been around to cause a ruckus recently. Braq pushed down the thought.

“What’re you playing with that old thing for?” he asked. Imdi tilted his head, a little dimple on his faintly scarred cheek.

“I don’t know… it was just dusty is all.”

“Well, you can get to scrubbing the washing room if you want,” Braq teased. Imdi smirked a little. Braq gestured to the instrument. “You’re holding it wrong, lad,” he said softly. “C’mere.” Imdi stood hesitantly, almost moving too quickly. The tall wooden tube of brass rings wobbling back and forth, Braq having to lurch forward to catch it.

“S-sorry!” Imdi squeaked. “It’s too big for me.”

“It’s okay. It was too big for me too, once upon a time. You’ll grow into it.” He gestured again to the nervous boy. “C’mere.” Imdi cautiously sat on Braq’s good leg, the father reflecting on how big he was already. They grow up too fast, he thought, settling the boy’s blanket around him. “Now,” he said, resting a paw on the instrument. “There’re two parts to the sonophone.” He held up the mouthpiece that was connected by a large fabric bag to the top of the wood. “This is the lead, it’s what you blow into.” Imdi nodded.

“And the bag goes under your armpit?” he asked.

“It’s called the kit or the pouch, yes. It’ll take air in and blow for you when you inhale.” Braq ran his digits across the brass buttons. “The stops control the vibration and it’s sound. I’ll do the stops, and you can do the kit okay?”

“O-okay,” Imdi murmured.

“The point is just to breathe into it, nice and gentle. Go on.” Imdi took a deep breath and put the mouthpiece to his lips. The sonophone all but bellowed, the vibration almost shaking Braq’s bones. The boy stopped at once, looking awkwardly up at his father. Braq sat there with a fixed grimace.

“Oops,” Imdi whispered. It was dead silent in the lodge. After a long moment, Braq felt confident that Turin was not about to come to clip their ears, and he allowed himself to share an anxious chuckle with the boy.

“Let’s try not to wake Mama up, huh?” he said. Imdi nodded, trying to hide his impish smile. “You’re putting too much air into it,” Braq told him. “You’re not trying to huff and puff.” He pulled away the mouthpiece and put his paw on his son’s chest. “Breathe normally. In through the nose, out of the mouth.” Imdi took a breath. “In and out, slowly.” His chest rose and fell. “Good.” Braq put the kit under the boy’s arm. “Push down on it when you inhale, leave it alone when you exhale.” He took some practice breaths. “That’s it…” Braq gave him the mouthpiece. “In… and…” Imdi exhaled, squeezing the kit slowly. The sonophone rumbled, then resonated, a slow rolling pitch. There was a pause as he took his next breath, but on the third he managed to keep pace. Gradually, the lad managed to find the stride, holding the note consistently between his breaths.

With a rising eagerness, Braq gradually started shifting the stops, the notes slowly playing out. It was an old song, simple and regular, yet timeless in its own way. Imdi’s breath hitched for a moment, glancing back at him, but he found the pace again quickly.

A talented musician would halt their breathing to create gentle lulls in the music, a shadow rhythm that required the most perfect timing. Such a feat would be beyond the boy, most days it was beyond Braq. But nevertheless the melody came and went with the regularity of the tide, rising and lowering to hidden words, subtle notes of meanings known only to long-dead maestros and forgotten prodigies.

But the sound was only half the magic, the vibration, the feeling of the noise. The right pieces were made for specific spaces, perfect amphitheatres and acoustics that shaped the music into the world itself. The place, the stage: that was the thing. A rendition removed from that place would be a hollow mockery, and when a theatre was destroyed, whole genres would be lost. The lodge was by comparison a meagre showing, and yet the wooden floorboards of the living room overlaying their cool clay bedrock carried the resonant tremor with an extra note of vibrato, a tingle that set one’s pelt on edge. It was, in a sense, their song.

Imdi felt the piece drawing to an end, gently pulling back.

“Wow…” he whispered. Braq chuckled.

“Not bad huh?” Imdi pulled the kit out from his underarm, feeling its fabric.

“Did your dad teach you how to play?” he asked. Braq grunted.

“Heh, he did not,” he said. “I picked it up on a whim. But… it calms my mind.”

“I haven’t heard you play it in a while,” the boy said.

“No…” Braq fiddled with the instrument, his paws idly feeling out half-remembered melodies. “No, I guess not.”

“You should,” Imdi mumbled, smiling wanly. “We all like it.” He glanced up at his father. “Ki-yu likes it too, you know,” he whispered. Braq nodded slowly.

“She can’t exactly hear it like we can.”

“I know,” Imdi said, “but she likes to see you play.” Braq kept his eyes on the instrument, smiling tightly. Imdi shuffled off of Braq’s knee, pulling his blanket tighter as he settled onto the couch. “She’s been gone too long this time,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“Shouldn’t she be answering her radio?” Braq shrugged.

“It’s still got power, we can see the wave output. There are plenty of places where the signal isn’t strong. Otherwise, it could be out of charge, or damaged, or…” Braq trailed off, glancing at the drawn, worried expression of his son. He swallowed a sigh, rubbing Imdi’s back. “She’s a clever girl, she’ll be alright.”

“How can we know that?” The lad began chewing on his claws. “Wh-what if she’s hurt, or- or has stopped eating again?” Braq shook his head. Ki-yu had not starved herself for years. Prey could sometimes escape her, and she still despised hurting them, but it was clear that she had made some kind of peace with what she was. No, food isn’t the issue here… He glanced at the boy again, the look in his eyes fixing the decision there and then. He stood and returned the sonophone to its stand.

“…your mother and I will leave in the morning.”

“Shouldn’t all of us-?”

“No!” Braq barked, startling the lad. Both recoiled as if they had been burned. They were still for a long moment, Braq had never raised his voice at his son before. “S-sorry…” he whispered, rubbing his muzzle. “I… I didn’t mean to say it like that…” Imdi looked at him with wide eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

“I-it’s okay… I kn-know you don’t want… I didn’t mean to…” Imdi swallowed. “But… I’m not a baby anymore. Ku was out there a lot younger than me.”

“It’s not-” Braq caught himself; there was a sickly bile at the back of his throat. “You know it’s not that simple.” He tentatively patted the boy’s shoulder. He could not find the strength for anything else. “Let’s try and get some sleep,” he told him. Braq doubted they would get any.

~*~

Dew hung in frosted trails from the roof tiles, Braq’s breath puffing out ahead of him as he hefted a gallon of water out the backdoor. The day was overcast, a low fog haunting the middle-distance. The mountains could not be seen to the east, all the better not to think about. Turin strode out after him, the pair lugging the last of the supplies into the buggy. Fresh water for all of us, medical kits, the rifle. Food for ourselves, emergency rations for Ki-yu… Imdi trudged out after them, checking the latches on the gun case he was carrying as he walked. He nodded to his father as he passed it to him. Braq gave it a once over. Satisfied, he gave the boy a smile and placed it in the vehicle.

“D-do you really need that?” Imdi asked quietly.

“I sure hope not,” Braq murmured. Despite prolonged searches, they had not seen any other roht in the years since the attack. He had not fired the weapon in all that time and would have preferred the thing gather more dust. He reached over the gun case to retrieve the satellite unit, a small, two-pronged handheld device. Ki-yu had taken with her a radio unit. Even if they could not signal her, the unit should still be able to be detected by satellite signalling. In the deepest parts of the forest, the signal would only be accurate to within ten hectares, but it was better than nothing. He briefly flicked it on, watching the carrier wave warp across the screen, the device warbling louder as he turned south-eastward. He turned off the shrill device, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had woken every hour from the same nightmare, the same memory. If he had dreamt of anything else, he certainly did not recall it.

“Remember, the vexise prefer the softer bedding at this time of year,” Turin was telling their son. “Always keep them ap–”

“Always keep them apart where possible, unless they’re on the next rotation,” Imdi cut in, sniffing his tiny nose. Turin carried on regardless.

“We’ve got the annual review coming up soon, we’ll want them all accounted for.”

“I know, I know,” he huffed. Turin crouched down to eye level in front of him.

“Then you won’t need to ask about the feed ratios at all,” she said with a small smile. Imdi just tossed his snout, looking down into the predator pens. Turin’s smile dimmed, a little breath of air rising into the cool sky. “Hey,” she murmured, rubbing his arms, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. Turin tilted her head at him. “It’s just…” Imdi sighed, looking down at his feet. “Nothing. Don’t worry.” Turin looked at him pensively, before pulling him into a gentle embrace.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she whispered, kissing his head. “You’re our backup, remember?”

“Oh, great,” Imdi said dryly. Braq wandered over, patting the boy’s head.

“We should only be a day or so,” he told him. “There’s plenty to eat in the pantry, just… don’t go silly with it. Don’t want a repeat of the sylphberries.” Imdi rolled his eyes at him.

“That was Ku’s fault!”

“Oh, my poor floorboards…” Braq muttered. Turin hit him playfully on the arm as she sat in the passenger seat.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” she said to their son as Braq sat behind the wheel. Imdi chewed at his lip.

“M-make sure Ku’s eating well,” he mumbled. “You know how she gets.” Braq gave him a smile, nodding. He started the engine. The buggy headed south, away from their son and toward their daughter.

~*~

At mid-day, they ate some anuana spread sandwiches whilst pausing at the edge of the roughly teardrop shaped lake. Many seasons ago, to the west of here, Ki-yu had first encountered Teraka and Juran, the pair chasing her through the woods. The day was eerily still, fog clinging to the water so thick they could not see the scattered shingle of smooth grey stones that marked the other side. Grislets bobbed across the surface, half-seen shades in the mist. The scansa were rather oddly shaped creatures. Their heads were small and narrow, a pointed skull dominated by large eyes sitting at the end of a mobile curving neck. By contrast their bodies were of a decent size, a pair of thickened and rubbery membranous wings folded carefully against their sides. Their short yet strong webbed feet paddled beneath the surface, letting them bob back and forth like boatmen, when, spying some morsel beneath the surface, they would dive down into the depths. The water would go still again, and though he could sometimes hear them resurface somewhere else, Braq was almost unsure as to if they had really been there. Ki-yu would have something interesting to say about them, he ruminated. Do they smell different? Maybe they’re easy to catch when they’re on land?

They drove along the lake’s western shore, crossing the river that fed it at its northmost point. The treeline changed markedly as they forded the stream. On the eastern bank, the dark ripbark trees with their dry, peeling skins stood tall, allowing a lush understory to thrive. Braq pulled the buggy to a stop on the western bank, a wall of wood ahead of them. Grey-barked trees, leafless and low-lying grew close together. They were far shorter than the ripbark trees that dominated the higher woods, the empty canopy akin to spindle-thin fingers, cringing from the sky.

“The merrylings?” Turin croaked. “Why’d she go in there? She’d have to range much further to find prey.”

“Perhaps,” Braq grunted. Unless her curiosity got the better of her. “C’mon.” Braq killed the engine; they would have to leave the buggy and continue on foot. They put on their packs, Braq shouldered the rifle, and Turin led them in with the signal finder held out before her.

This was the deep forest, parts few people had ever walked. During the warmer, wetter months, the moisture from the great lake fuelled this patch of wood. Lush grey-green leaves would unfurl like rounded petals, the nectareous buds a waxy yellow. Their low canopy was so thick it smothered out all other trees. But during this dry early winter, it was a strange, quiet place. All the merryling trees looked identical, the same slab grey bark, their limbs branching in perfect fractals with similar patterns of olive and ochre moss. The satellite signal led them on.

The day’s sun fought to push through the fog, but only a diffuse light reached them. Without the signal they would struggle to discern how far they had travelled, let alone their direction. They had only mapped this part of the estate in recent years between satellite positioning and Ki-yu’s nose. With the amount of time she spent out here alone, the girl undoubtedly knew the landscape far better than they did.

They passed the remnants of a long-dried stream, withered sticks and rotten longs matted together into a crooked wood-stay. Children used to be told that these were the homes of morrywobbles and jestlings that would lure them to the water’s edge with promises of spinning stones and poo-sticks. Of course, it was all nonsense. There were no morrywobbles or jestlings, the current would drag this material here after a storm. But this was the only deviation from the rows and rows of muted trees. The terrain hardly changed; one could walk for miles here and feel like they had not moved at all. Braq found himself wishing for the nonsense of youth.

After what might have been days, weeks, or merely a few hours, the forest slowly started to descend into the deeper valley. Beyond, the woods would give way to open tussock grassland and lowland shrubs that the brynn herd called their home.

“The signal’s getting stronger,” Turin panted as they paused to catch their breath. His ankle was beginning to bite at him again, Turin passing him the handheld as she retrieved the water flask from his pack. He ground his teeth, glancing at the device as she took a swig.

“How far could she have gone?”

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“She wouldn’t have left the property,” Turin sniffed, passing him the canteen. “It’d be too hard to hunt, and it would expose her.” Braq felt the swish of the flask for a moment, shaking his head.

“We should never have let her go into the forest,” he grumbled. “Imdi’s right, it’s too dangerous.”

“What were we to do?” Turin asked as he took a drink. “Lock her away? We don’t have any chance of keeping either of them indoors.” Braq leaned his back against a tree, the gaps in his quills touching wood. The feeling irked him, even if the old scars had long ago healed. Turin glanced at him carefully as she took the flask back. “Is the pack rubbing?” she asked, taking and returning the flask to his pack.

“I’m fine,” he grunted. His partner adjusted the straps, Braq sighing as the weight eased somewhat.

“Better?” she asked with a paw on his shoulder. He took it in his own.

“Much.” He felt her head rest against him for a long moment.

“C’mon,” she said, setting off again. “We must be getting close.” Braq took a breath and followed her lead.

“She should know better than to stray so far,” he huffed. His beloved put her thumbs through her pack’s straps, raising a brow over her shoulder.

“We weren’t exactly ones to head home at bedtime at her age, were we?”

“I was.”

“Liar,” she said, pushing ahead. He chuckled, glancing about.

“Say, I don’t suppose the trees are spacing out a little?”

“Yeah,” Turin murmured, looking about as well. “In fact, I’d almost wager we’ve found a game trail.” He flipped out the handheld, the signal whining as it matched their southeast bearing.

The path led down between two rocky outcroppings, brown clay-like mud infiltrated by roots and round stones jutting into the space between. The ground felt icily cold, each step sapping the warmth from their feet. Braq had to turn sideways to not have his shoulders scuff against the walls. Slowly the gap spread out until they were walking through a small ravine; wide enough that five radji could walk abreast, yet one could jump and touch the lip. At least here there was little frost to slow them, chill water puddling in the channel. The signal unit was screeching shrilly at them. Braq span about, trying to find the direction.

“No use,” he huffed, passing it to Turin. She shook the device.

“Must be close,” she murmured breathily. “We’re close…” The leafless forest fell to silence as she switched it off. Braq stepped forward, cupping his paws around his mouth.

“Ki-yu?!” he called out, his voice echoing dully off the ravine.

“Ki-yu?!” Turin joined him. There was no response, the sound muffled by the snow. Letting out a shaky breath at the ache in his leg, Braq pushed further into the channel, happening to glance upward. Through the fog, a great shape coalesced above them, its length overhanging the trail. Braq’s first thought was of some massive bridge, as ludicrous as that was, crossing the expanse between the rock. Approaching, the fog gave way, and he could see it was made of wood.

“Kay-ut…” Turin marvelled. “That’s the biggest tree I’ve ever seen.” ‘Big,’ was insufficient. The tree was immense. I would have taken ten radji to encircle its browning ochre-red bark. It could only have been a woodwaif that had fallen in some primeval day, crashing down across the gorge.

“Must be petrified,” Braq wondered aloud. “Ancient.” The woodwaifs only stand near the coast, at least today. Has this part of the forest not always belonged to the merrylings? A thick layer of moss had been gathered across its top, too abundant and fresh to be naturally occurring. Braq turned to look at Turin but paused as a low breeze rolled through. He sniffed.

“Smell that?” he whispered. Turin caught it a moment later.

“Smoke!” Suddenly he forgot about the pain in his leg, taking her paw as they passed under the woodwaif. The ravine quickly ran out, the two rocky escarpments running down to ground. They doubled back up it, a thin layer of snow crunched noisily as they made their way up the embankment. She’s here, Braq told himself. She has to be.

They were halfway up when they stopped short. Part of a vyrryn’s furry hide had been stretched taught between two saplings. Any blood had long ago leeched away, the skin stiff and frozen.

“W-well…” Turin gasped, the relief in her voice palpable. “At least we know she’s been eating.” Tearing his eyes away, Braq turned toward the incline again. The stumped end of the woodwaif could be seen rising like a discarded crown on the hill.

“Hello?” he called out. There was no further sound, no sign of movement. They moved into the ramshackle campsite.

A thin trail of smoke rose from a small firepit, the fuel burned down to still-lit cinders. A large log had been dragged to one side of it, scraps of wood had charred and turned to charcoal in the ashes. Shavings of whittled sticks were everywhere; clearly she had been working on a great many things. The parents shared a relieved sigh, she must have been here recently.

Nearby, half sunk beneath the snow, was a raised platform of wood, one and a half times Braq’s height across. Curious, he brushed away the snow. It was the stump from the woodwaif, cut too cleanly to be anything other than the work of people. For a brief moment the ecologist wondered if his daughter had somehow managed to bring the tree down herself.

“I must be getting old,” he muttered to himself. It must have been cut down centuries ago. Shaking his head, he turned toward where the trunk lay at the top of the incline. A makeshift panel of wood had been affixed over a small, cavernous hollow in its base. He had to bend double to look within it; it looked like it would be a squeeze for an adult radji.

“Ki-yu?” he called out again. He pulled the board back, sticking his head within. The interior was cramped, yet surprisingly warm and snug. Ki-yu’s bedding had been jammed deep into the wood, much of the inner layer having been polished smooth by time. Braq pulled back out.

“She slept here recently,” he called out, his bad leg shaking as he stood. Braq swallowed a gasp of pain, steadying himself on the tree.

“What do you suppose this is?” Turin asked, standing with her back to him on the opposite side of the pit. Limping closer, he saw she was holding a carved wooden implement as big as her arm, a curved stick with a single band of string tied tightly between it. She turned the crude implement over in her paws. He looked it over, unsure what to make of it.

“A… fire-starter perhaps?” he suggested. She tilted her head this way and that, screwing up her nose.

“She’s been bracing the limb with saplings…” Turin murmured, a novel thought clearly at the edge of her mind. She set the creation down. “No radio?” she asked. He shook his head.

“We must be within range of her,” he said, pulling out their own unit. “Eco two to eco three,” he called into it, “are you receiving, over?” Static was their only response. “Ki-yu, are you there?” The moment stretched out.

Nothing. Oh, sweetheart. Where are you?

“The unit is still active,” Turin said. “The terrain must be interfering.” They looked about, finding there was little else besides. Braq found himself drawn to the grotesque tapestry the girl had made of the vyrryn hide. There was a large dark stain in the snow beneath it, stretched as though dragged heavily across it.

“Blood,” he muttered. “She must have stripped the carcass here.” Hesitantly, he touched it. It was as dry as the snow would allow. “This has been here a few days or more.” Turin joined him, kneeling down beside the drag.

“Look,” she said breathily. “Tracks.” Sure enough, two sets of four clawed toes preceded the drag mark down the incline.

“Recent,” Braq said, half a gasp. “Only snowed in last few days.” At that moment the sun finally broke through the clouds, the fog melting away before it. The light casting enough of a shadow that the trail could be seen moving off into the east.

“But… why does it move away from the camp?” Turin wondered aloud. “Wouldn’t she bring it back there to eat?”

“Dunno,” he panted, pushing to his feet again. They followed the trail as best they could, the blood slowly vanishing into the faintest blue smear. The ground was definitely trending downhill, even if embankments and ravines still rose and fell before them. Glancing back at the trail, he realised that there were now two sets of his daughter’s tracks overlying one another. It was hard to make out, but one was clearly shifting the kill, the other moving off in a wide arc.

She’s been through here twice, but which is the more recent? Braq gave it a closer look. This new trail was narrower, as though Ki-yu were carefully placing her steps. A ripple ran through his ragged pelt as he realised she was stalking. Then, the trail seemed to lengthen, the girl clearly sprinting.

“She’s hunting something…” he breathed.

“I don’t understand. Why would she hunt when she’s already kil–” Turin was cut off as a throaty, yowling roar cut through the still air. The couple bristled at once; they both knew the sound far too well.

“Goddess!” she gasped. The rifle was in his grip before he knew it.

“It’s found her!” he yelled.

Braq was not aware of even the effort of moving, his mind was far to the north. The girl on her back, in a grove of pale flowers. The boy beside her with his dead eyes. The sound of his daughter’s ribs breaking as they wrapped around a tree. Claws in his back, teeth in his ankle. Always, teeth in his ankle. He glanced beside him where Turin sprinted, a wild-eyed mother looking back. How many had been hurt because of these creatures? How many years had they lived in fear of them? No more!

They sped over loose-packed stones that threatened to send them skidding, hurrying up the following incline. Beyond them the hills rolled down into the tussocks of grass, the fog being chased away by the sun. Before that, the trees had, at last, parted around a great depression in the terrain, a bowl ringed by merrylings. There, two dark shapes paced around one another, although one clearly dwarfed the other. Braq pulled up the rifle, peering through the scope. The treeline still provided cover, but he recognised the form of his daughter, and the monster bearing down on her.

“Shit shit shit!” He pushed forward, Braq tumbling over the edge and into frozen slurry. The old wound was snarling, gnawing beneath his skin. He gritted his teeth and snatched up the rifle. Turin was beside him, pulling him up. Together they limped toward the howling coming from the last embankment. Panting from fear and fatigue, they peered over it into the bowl beyond.

The roht paced backward and forward with its back to them. Where the others had been young and starving, this animal was a well-wintered adult. It was colossal; no doubt it would outweigh Braq by three or four times. Its tawney fur turned a sombre charcoal across its chest and paws, the eyes gleaming embers looking down a blackened snarling snout. And before it, opposite them, stood their daughter, yelling back.

Ki-yu had set off in a carefully made pale woollen poncho; it had taken Braq several weeks. That poncho was now brown, the fabric torn and restitched in many places. About her arms, her legs, and tight about her neck the girl had bound a vyrryn’s fuzzy coat.

The skin’s previous owner hung over the bowl, the herbivore tied by a rope about its hoof, swinging from a bough like a grim chandelier. The carcass had been savaged, the animal’s blue tongue lolling grotesquely from a faceless mouth held in a silent scream.

Turin was wheezing, already picking her way around the bowl. Braq struggled to catch his breath as Ki-yu leapt and pranced around the howling predator, hoarfrost shaking free of it as it bounded across the clearing. She slashed at its haunches as it passed, drawing a splattering of blood. Her snout wrinkled as she turned face again, shaking out the cobalt from her claws. The roht just snarled.

Without looking down, Ki-yu kicked up a shortened wooden spear that had been hidden beneath the snow, catching it in one fluid movement. It was crudely carved with jagged recurved barbs, a long coil of rope —rising from the frost— tied about the nearby tree trunk. The predator darted forward, snapping for her again, but Ki-yu duked left then right, kicking off the creature’s head. The pyq span over the monster’s back, her teeth flashing as the harpoon went in with a wet thuck! She let out a barking hiss, narrowly scrambling back on all fours as the roht’s massive jaws snapped shut where she had been just a moment before. The shaggy beast bounded after her, the line went taught, and the hooks dug into blue flesh. Its legs almost flew out from under it, the animal spitting as it span about, trying to find the source of its pain. The spear had been planted high in its pelvis, the roht could not reach it. Its head snapped around, gnashing its teeth toward the pyq. Its golden eyes bore into her with venom. Ki-yu returned the gesture, standing up to snarl with her claws stretched wide before it, just out of reach. Licking her teeth she pirouetted away, snatching up another makeshift spear, turning on the predator. But the animal was too massive. It heaved against the line, and there was the sound of groaning wood as the first harpoon snapped. Braq hardly processed bringing the firearm to bear, it happened so quickly. He fired the instant it took a step. From this distance the shot went wide, sizzling into a tree trunk. The roht ducked at the sound, spying them at once. Clumsy! Braq ratcheted the lever, crouching to pre-emptively line up the next shot. His leg, strangely, had gone quiet.

Down the scope, Ki-yu did a double take, the snarl still affixed to her lips. One… She leapt forward, using the roht’s moment of hesitance to jab the spear toward its throat. The predator recoiled a fraction too late, and the point pierced its shoulder. Two… Hissing, an immense paw shattered it to splinters in moments, the other already swiping for the black shade that was diving away. Three! Braq took a breath and fired.

The supercharged round found its mark, burning into the animal between the shoulder and the ribs. The roht recoiled at once, whining and snapping, fire licking at its side. Braq levered the weapon again, but it was already bounding away, a trail of rope following it down the slopes.

The moment stretched out, and out, and out, as though that was the only one, and that the past few panicked seconds had never happened. His eyes passed to the dark predator still standing in the clearing, panting heavily as she too looked in the same direction. Braq realised he was not breathing at the same moment that Turin entered the bowl. She scrambled up to her daughter at once.

“Ki-yu!” she wheezed, near throwing herself around the girl. Her shoulders shook raggedly. Braq pushed himself up, using the stock as leverage. He limped down toward them, eyeing the path toward the slopes. Turin pulled back, still holding on tight as she looked the girl over.

“A-are you okay?!” she croaked. “You– you didn’t–?!”

“I’m fine!” Ki-yu hissed, a low growl holding just the slightest hint of good humour. “I suppose you’re checking up on me?”

“Checking–?” The noise Turin made was distantly related to a laugh. “You’ve been gone for months! We haven’t heard from you in weeks!” She began shaking her, the effect noticeably diminished by the girl’s growth. Braq —still holding the rifle in one paw— pulled the girl’s head to him, kissing her forehead.

“Goddess girl,” he breathed through the lump in his throat. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled against him before pulling back. “But… I’m fine. You didn’t need to interfere. I had it.”

“You ‘had it?’” Braq rumbled. Ki-yu turned to him lazily, as though the question bored her. Braq glanced up to where the vyrryn carcass hung. Understanding gripped him. “Oh, Kay-ut! You were baiting it?!”

“What?!” Turin wheezed, exasperated. “W-why didn’t you call us?!” The girl made a deep rumbling sound, turning away to snatch up the tattered remains of the rope.

“Too deep in the forest,” she grunted, wrapping up the chord. “Leaving to call you would have meant losing it again.” Suddenly it all fell into place.

“It wasn’t the terrain,” he snapped. “You shut your radio off!” The fibre of the rope sinched tight as Ki-yu bound it up.

“I was stalking,” she said.

“Roht?!” he yelled. “Stalking an adult roht by yourself?! Have you lost it?!” She rounded on him quickly. Her head now came to just above his chest, and with her long neck and snout she could stick her nose right into his face.

“I had to strike before it went to ground in winter!”

“Dammit girl, this is dangerous!”

“Of course it’s dangerous!” Ki-yu’s teeth flashed with her bark. Her tail came around into her hand, holding it just beneath the long-healed break. “It’s always been dangerous!” She gestured to where old scars would be, hidden beneath her winterwear. “But it killed Callio! Nearly killed Yotun! Nearly–!” Her growl became a heavy snort as the words caught deep in her chest. Her eyes drifted down to their feet. “Predators are dangerous, father. I have to stop it.”

“Ki-yu…” Turin whispered, standing between the two of them. “You aren’t worth that risk.”

“Neither are you,” she said softly.

Braq turned darkly toward where the creature had vanished into the shrubbery. No more…

“Well, we’re out here now,” he rumbled. “We’d best get after it.” He moved to follow the predator’s trail, but as he stepped forward his foot went from under him. He cried out as he toppled, the chords of his leg fraying, rubbing together like dry twine. He was dimly aware that Turin was beside him again, speaking insistently.

“I’m fine!” he snapped, not even hearing whatever she had said over the pounding in his ears. “We– hnk… We’ve got to keep going…” He panted heavily as he looked up. Ki-yu stood like a wild shade over him, wrapped in all that she had hurt.

“No,” she said. “We’re done for the day.” No? No!

“You can be, but I’m not!” he snarled through gritted teeth.

“Yes, you are. It’s better to wait.” Ki-yu turned back to the rope, spooling it over one shoulder. Turin was pulling him to his feet, but Braq tried to push her away. His partner fixed him with an icy stare, her grip not wavering.

“We didn’t come out here to find one of those… creatures,” she said tightly, bearing some of his weight. “We came out here to make sure she was safe.”

“W-we can’t let it get away!” he grunted. Ki-yu dug through the undergrowth, retrieving a final stashed spear.

“Here I had a plan,” the huntress said. “I knew the terrain, had the snow to slow it down. I had bait to draw it in, traps and snares made.” She looked in the direction the roht had fled, licking at the corner of her mouth. “The day is late, chasing it now will only lead to us getting cornered. Let it bleed. Find it in the morning.” She strode over to the neighbouring tree, tilting her head at the rope tied about its trunk. “Oh,” she muttered, looking to them. “I’d move if I were you.” She reached down to her leg belt, drawing out her knife. Talon bit down into the chord as Turin half dragged Braq toward her. The rope snapped and the chandelier came crashing down with a wet crunch behind them. Braq fought not to gag.

“Ki-yu…” Turin groaned.

“Sorry,” she said singsong as she passed them. She bent over and slung the naked carcass over her shoulders. “You’d best be going,” she huffed. “Not enough room in the tree.”

“We’ve come all this way, we can’t leave you now,” Turin said. “Come back with us.”

“Baba’s right, we need to keep on its trail. I’ll stay.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Braq panted. “You need us.” Turin sighed.

“Just… promise us you won’t go after it until we return,” she said. The girl looked at them with dark eyes. It was silent. “Ki-yu?” She blinked languidly.

“You have two days.”

~*~

By the time they had made it back to the campsite, the sun had passed its peak. Ki-yu moved faster with that weight on her back than Braq would have thought possible, but then again, she was nothing if not surprising. The girl had gone ahead and re-stashed the meat in the time it took Braq and Turin to limp back up the first incline. Together they managed to get back out of the merryling forest far quicker than they had entered.

Braq’s ankle was tender when they reached the buggy, the chords of his tendons turning to barbed wire. Turin drove them back home, Ki-yu watching them go from the grey treeline. She had hardly said a word to them since they had found her, her usual bubbly, curious temperament strangely absent. Something about her quiet expression had unsettled him. I could have killed it with the first shot, he cursed himself. Careless. Reckless…

It was dark when they finally made it home. Exhausted, neither wanted to think about dinner. Turin held the backdoor for him as he shambled in. Imdi was prodding at some tubers in the fireplace he had pulled from the garden. He dropped them into the flames at once and ran over to them, stopping as he saw their haggard expressions.

“Where’s Ku?” he asked in a small voice.

“Okay,” Turin sighed, putting a paw on Braq’s arm to guide him in. “She’s okay. She’s just staying in the woods tonight.”

“We’ll go get her in the morning,” Braq grunted, limping over to the dining table. The chair squealed as he dragged it out, dropping into the seat.

“A-are you okay?” Imdi asked. Braq waved his paw dismissively.

“Overdid it,” he grunted.

“Yeah,” Imdi said, holding up a burnt tuber in his tongs. “Me too.”

The simple meal was a little charred, but Braq did not complain. He sat in contemplative silence as Turin told Imdi of their day. Why didn’t I fire as soon as we saw it? I could have killed it straight away, and we’d all be home. Braq felt himself staring at the tabletop, thinking of pale sheets. He stood with curled lip, collecting the cleared plates. Turin caught his wrist.

“Where’re you going?” she asked.

“To wash up.”

“No, go sit down. You’ve been on your feet all day.”

“So have–”

“Dammit Braq, go sit down!” she barked at him. They locked eyes for a long moment, Braq seeing naught but steel. Sighing heavily, he set the ceramics back down, his beloved crinkling her snout at him in a playful snarl. Begrudgingly, Braq turned away and let Turin move to the kitchen. His leg felt dead as he collapsed into the couch.

“HSSSCK!!”

“Ahck!!” Braq nearly jumped out of his quills, barely stopping himself from leaping onto his bad leg as an orange blur shot out across the living room. Turin nearly dropped the plates at his outburst. The vexise kitten bolted straight into the opposite wall, Imdi diving from the table to chase after it as it leapt up and over the camera monitors.

“Imdi, why the hell is that thing in here?!” Braq yelled, wobbling.

“S-sorry,” the boy said, snatching it down before it could leap into the open again. The predator settled into his grasp with nary a hiss. “It’s okay, he-he just–” Imdi glanced sheepishly down at the orange ball of fur. “…I needed someone to talk to.” Braq wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, rubbing his face as he fell back into the couch.

“He belongs in the pen, sweetheart,” Turin said over the counter. Imdi sat beside his father, the vexise scrutinising Braq with emerald eyes.

“I know ,” Imdi said, ”but… he just sits there, whimpering.”

“Then put him in with the others,” Braq huffed.

“They just pick on him,” the boy mumbled. The feline curled up on the boy’s lap, purring softly. “I think he’s traumatised by them. He isn’t going to get better if they’re all he sees.”

Braq looked down at his leg. He did not think he could stand at that moment if he wanted to. Turin looked at him forlornly from the counter, something pointed in her eyes.

“No…” he whispered. “No, he won’t.”

---

“He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race […], if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it.”

– Moby Dick.