Ki-yu, the huntress.
Date [standardised human time]: January 29th, 2123
(13 years, 7 months before the invasion of the radji Cradle).
The forest was still, only the tree’s stood to attention. The wood felt smooth in her paw, the edges and corners smoothed out by hours of careful carving. Ki-yu brought the crooked branch up to her eyeline, the string groaning as she drew it taught. She felt the straining of her hands, trying to pull back further. Her eyes slid to her target. Naught else moved. She let the bolt fly. The wooden spike sailed through the air, whittled thin and wobbling. It splintered off a tree trunk, feebly falling flat against the snow. She snorted, neither surprised nor bemused, merely a sound of one’s expectation being met. She paced over to it, snatching up the now snapped bolt. She ran her fingers over the tree; there was not even a nick on the bark.
It was… vexing. In her mind she could see exactly what she wanted but try as she might she could not get the weapon to work. She had the strength to draw it well enough, but she could not pull the string back beyond her chest, her shoulder simply would not move that far. As a result, it did not throw with enough force to cause any more than a scratch. This won’t punch through hide, she thought glumly as she stuffed the wooden spikes into her pack, not for the first time. I’d be better off burning the thing. Still, she would keep at it; she had naught else to do whilst she waited for the others to return.
Ki-yu turned her nose until she found the lowly notes of smoke and pressed back toward camp. With her thumb the would-be huntress plucked at the string as she walked, listening to its flat twang. After Mama and Baba has left, she had stalked the roht’s trail as far as she dared before nightfall, enough to know that it would not make it far. If she wanted to, she could return to it now, make an end of it if death had not already found the predator. But it was the other side of the woods, and Ki-yu longed to curl up beside her fire. The string rattled against her claws.
She paused for a moment beside a merryling —identical to all others— palming the encrusted snow from her numbing feet. Even with her vyrryn hide wrappings the cold had found teeth. The days were only drawing shorter, the snow beginning to fall more regularly. Even though she was nice and comfortable in her tree, the last few nights had been a little chillier than she would have liked. She could not stay out here much longer, she would have to return to the lodge soon.
Ki-yu went still, sniffing at the air. She was not alone. Her dark eyes drank in the world, looking about for… something to latch onto between the grey trunks. She found herself in a low crouch beside the tree, waiting to spring; toward or away she did not know. A soft hoot drew her eyes upward. An awlet sat on a sodden and moss-ridden bough. The creatures always looked like fuzzy balls of mottled grey feathers to Ki-yu. This one looked down at her with its fluffy, satellite-dish of a face, joining its round body seemingly without a neck. But they do have a neck, she knew. Thin bones crack all too easily.
Ki-yu had already eaten her fill of the vyrryn carcass, and stashed away all she could. She would not need to kill for a week or two. But the makeshift weapon was already in her grip, a throwing spike appearing between her fingers. She brought it up to her eyeline, slowly drawing it back. But would it kill it? she wondered. Would it be quick? Down her finger, the awlet tilted its soft head at her. Ki-yu’s snout twitched. She hesitated. The creature dropped into a glide, swooping up to vanish against the clouded sky. Ki-yu returned the branch to her pack, growling at herself. She tightened the straps on her poncho and fell to all fours. The afternoon was soon to pass into evening, and she was all the keener to be back beside her warm fire.
Ki-yu was so singularly focused on returning to camp that she only noticed the smell of fresh burning as she neared the ravine. She stood and sniffed. A mild but musty scent, like packed earth and sweat. Radji. The better part of caution urged her to stealth as she loped around the embankment, her body held low and narrow as she slunk forward on careful toes. Ki-yu circled around the edge of her camp, the gorge opening up like a maw of empty air to her right. She reared behind one of the closest trees like a rising shadow and peered out.
Mama sat in a thick set of overalls by the fire, the rifle across her lap as she prodded at freshly charring logs with a long stick. Over them had already been placed a large cooking pot, vague hints of spices wafting from it. Rylett stood beside her, her arms deep beneath a simple grey shawl. She was a shade greyer in the temples, even if the lightness was still in her eyes. The fire drew out the lines on their faces, making them both seem at once warm and strange. The two were in deep conversation, their words low. Rylett? I haven’t seen her in… a while… The girl stepped out from behind the tree, the pair only noticing her from the crunch of the snow. Rylett was stopped mid-sentence, a plume of hot air escaping her as she looked at Ki-yu with surprise.
“Told you she’d grown,” Mama chuckled wryly. As she stood the firelight mask slipped off her, the mother she knew and loved taking shape. Ki-yu shrugged off her pack, smiling despite herself.
“Hello Mama,” she hooted as she embraced her. Her mother had always seemed like an incredibly tall creature to her, but now the two were almost at eye level. Ki-yu could comfortably rest her head over the woman’s shoulder, even if Turin’s broader frame allowed her to envelope her daughter in a warm, furry hug.
“Hello sweetheart,” she replied warmly. Ki-yu felt the cold drain out of her, her mother’s familiar petrichor scent an old friend. The woman released her, her paws rubbing the girl’s shoulders. “Still sneaking up on us, hm?” she said with a smile.
“You make it so easy,” Ki-yu snickered with a swish of her tail. She turned to the other woman. “Hello Rylett, it’s been a while.”
“I-indeed it has,” she said, a little shakily.
“Is… everything alright?” Ki-yu asked cautiously. Perhaps the cold has gotten to her?
“Y-yes,” she replied with a hesitant smile, gesturing to Ki-yu’s chest with both paws together. “You’re just… as surprising as ever.” The girl glanced down at her makeshift winterwear.
“O-oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t think–” she stuttered, hastily unwrapping the vyrryn hide from her arms. Rylett reached out, catching her hands.
“No,” she said, controlling a shudder. “Don’t worry yourself, I understand. You were cold.” She pulled Ki-yu close, hugging her too. “It is good to see you dear.” As she pulled back she looked past her. “Come now Imdi, don’t be mean.”
“Aw!” Looking up at the toppled tree Ki-yu found that a young boy was sitting there, a ball of snow palmed in his paw. Even he had been forced into a set of overalls by the cold, Imdi brushing the frost from his fingers against them.
“No fair!” he groaned. “She didn’t see me or anything!” Ki-yu suppressed a smirk as he jumped down, playfulness finding her for the first time in weeks.
“Didn’t need to see,” she said, tossing her head indignantly. “You stink.” He blinked at her, a wild grin slowly spreading across his face. He ran at her. Ki-yu let the smile slip as he crashed into her, staggering her a step. Whilst her brother had grown, so had she; he still only came up to a little above her middle.
“Hello, little brother,” she whistled to him. “You got bigger.” He beamed up at her with starry eyes.
“I got bigger?” he replied. Rylett tittered.
“You look… strong,” the woman observed. Ki-yu rattled a dry chuckle, sitting onto her haunches to be at Imdi’s eye level. She never felt comfortable looking down at him.
“I’ve been eating better,” she murmured.
“Good!” he said sunnily. She cleared her throat, wanting to dwell on other things.
“Where’s Baba?” she asked, coarser than she meant to.
“His leg is playing up again,” Imdi murmured. “So we’re here to help instead!” Ki-yu tried to stop her snout from wrinkling, turning to the adults.
“Too dangerous,” she muttered to Mama. “And you’re too late in the day. It’ll be night soon, and there’s not enough room in the tree.” They would have to set off first thing in the morning. The cold has probably gotten it already.
“They’re not here for the roht,” Mama said softly, “and we’ve brought a tent.” She bent down, picking up a large reel of canvas. “Speaking of which, we’d best go get it set up,” Mama said, beckoning Rylett to herself.
“You don’t want any help?” Ki-yu asked, moving to do so.
“No-no,” Rylett, said the two quickly marching a short way down the slope. “We can manage. You two can keep an eye on dinner if you want.” They watched the two adults begin to unroll their shelter with entirely too innocent expressions.
“Why do I get the impression that I’m in trouble?” she asked Imdi out of the corner of her mouth.
“Because you probably are, dingus,” he whispered back. She snorted at him, moving to sit beside the fire.
“How’re you?” she asked as she sniffed at the cooking pot, the strong crash of turniq root overlying the subtler notes. “How’s school?”
“Okay,” he said, setting down his pack as he rummaged through a case of chopped vegetables and stock. “School’s school. Yotun’s back from Caiyu next month, so that’s nice.” Ki-yu tried to focus placing the fragrance, but the scent slipped from her. After the inquest the other family had kept their distance. The girl had padded out to the high rise overlooking the eastern farmlands several times. The world below marched to a different beat to that of the forest; far faster, far clumsier. She had sat on the fallen log with the hollowed tree to her back, but there was no sign that Yotun had come back. Imdi reported that he was friendly but reserved when he had returned to school, although few of the other students would talk to him. The family had apparently taken some time away before he was to complete his final year. Neither had seen nor heard from Yotun in several seasons.
“Oh,” she said, pulling back from the fire. “That’s good.” Imdi nodded affably as he added some spice to the pot, picking up a stick to goad the fire. Her hands felt idle as she watched him cook, so she retrieved her crooked branch from her pack, feeling along its length for imperfections. “Stew again?” she asked as she felt the limb.
“Stew’ll do,” Imdi muttered. He tossed his head at her. “What’s that?”
“I was trying to make a way to throw a spear,” she murmured, the boy stepping back from the fire as she passed it to him. She retrieved a throwing spike, cleaning the end with her thumb claw. “See? But it doesn’t work.” Imdi pulled on the string experimentally, clearly finding the object unfamiliar and strange. He returned it to her, retrieving and uncorking a flask of a deep reddish sauce.
“Why not?” he asked as he added the fragrant mixture.
“I… think it’s me,” Ki-yu admitted. “I can’t draw the thing properly.” She held it up to demonstrate, lining in the spike and, aiming downward, pulled the chord back as far as her shoulder would allow.
“Where’d you get the string?” he asked, stirring.
“It’s, uh, vyrryn hair,” she grunted.
“Oh…” Ki-yu let the bolt fly —or rather drop— lamely into the snow.
“Maybe if I make the string tighter…” She glanced at him, finding that her brother was watching her carefully, squinting at her. “Wh-what?” she asked, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “It’s just…” He sighed, taking up a handful of berries and tossing them into the pot. “Do you ever get those moments when something clicks?” Something twisted in Ki-yu’s chest.
“Mew!” The sound pulled her from any possible words, their attention being drawn to the tiny orange face had squeezed its way out of her brother’s pack. The large ears sprang out after it a moment later, the vexise kitten blinking up at the darkening sky. Ki-yu sighed heavily, raising a brow as she looked at her brother out of one eye. He just smiled mischievously at her.
“Couldn’t leave him at home,” he said, a little defensively. He pulled the animal from his pack, its legs held at odd angles as he set it in his lap. “Baba would have just put him back with the others.” Ki-yu had found little patience for the things. Unlike the monitors, vexise were typically irritable, noisy things, that had the habit of clawing their handler. This one however seemed unusually charitable, enjoying the scratch of Imdi’s claws beneath its chin.
“Little monster,” she murmured, crossing her legs under herself. “Got a name?”
“Was thinking… maybe Ku?” She rolled her eyes at him, sticking out her tongue. He giggled. “Nah, aheh, maybe Monster will do?” Ki-yu snorted, reaching over to pet its large fuzzy ears. The kitten showed her its teeth, trying and failing to bite through her scales.
“That’s a terrible name,” she giggled, pulling her fingers free.
The two women came wandering back up the hill, a triangular prism of canvas tied down behind them. Whilst sheltered from the worst of the wind by the woodwaif, the leafless forest let in more chill than one expected. It did not look warm.
“Hope we brought some blankets,” Imdi mumbled, clearly thinking the same thing.
“Pardon?” Mama said as she sat.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. Ki-yu snickered. Mama spied the vexise in the boy’s lap, visibly stopping herself from rolling her eyes.
“I told you to keep that monster at home,” she sighed. Imdi snorted, laughing triumphantly. Ki-yu groaned, rubbing her cheeks to hide their traitorous smile. The name would no doubt stick.
Ki-yu returned to her weapon as the radji sat down for their meal. Each spoonful of stew came down with a hefty dollop, the bowls steaming so thickly it looked like they smoked. Their spoons scraped noisily, the three seeming content. And no doubt its nice and warm, she thought with envious eyes.
“Are you hungry?” Mama asked, returning the ladle to the pot. Ki-yu shook her head.
“I ate earlier.” That seemed to satisfy her, the woman picking up a spoon to eat. Ki-yu could not help but smile; how could her mother always tell when she was telling the truth?
“You’ve clearly been busy,” Mama added between mouthfuls, also nodding to her weapon. “Did you use that on the vyrryn?”
“No,” she huffed. “I wish…”
“You wish?”
“No, I–” Ki-yu grumbled pointedly at her, the sound from deep in her chest. “You know what I mean.”
“What do you mean?” she pressed. Ki-yu pulled her pack to her crossly, rummaging within for her spare string.
“I… I need to be better,” she said at last.
“You’re an accomplished hunter, Ki-yu,” Rylett said. “We’ve all seen it.” Ki-yu pulled out the vyrryn hair string she had made, glancing anxiously at her brother. Whilst he had seen the aftermath of her nature, he was yet to actually see her at work. Rylett leaned forward. “Why do you need these new weapons?” Ki-yu shook her head, not wanting any part of this conversation.
“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t work.” She looked at the Priestess quizzically. “Why’re you here Rylett?” The woman leaned back.
“You’ve been missing your lessons,” she said easily, her breath billowing out in the chill.
“Lessons?” Ki-yu muttered sotto voce, her toes digging into the hard cold dirt. I have missed my books… The girl huffed, panting gruffly as she unhooked the branch’s old string. Rylett turned toward the toppled giant.
“Quite something you’ve found here,” she said, her smile giving out a puff of warm breath.
“I got lucky,” Ki-yu said, rubbing some warmth into her fingers. “It’s nothing compared to my den, or the lodge, but it’s enough.” She drew her blade, the edge flashing in the light as she scored new wedges into the wood. She put the grip between her teeth, straining as she looped the new string around the ends.
“Your knife…” Rylett murmured, putting down her bowl. Ki-yu glanced at her, the woman watching her curiously across the fire. The string looped on, the girl taking the blade from her mouth and jamming it into the log.
“What about it?” she grunted, testing the bowing of the wood.
“The metal… it’s a belar blade,” she said softly. “I’ve only ever seen one in a museum.” Ki-yu’s claw tested the new string, absently noting its comparatively duller sound. For some reason that irked her, the girl growling to herself as she set the thing aside.
“What’s a museum?” Ki-yu grumbled, only half-interested.
“It’s like a library, but for relics. Old things, interesting things. Things of value.” The girl tossed her head to either side, letting the notion roll about. She pulled the knife from the log, passing it to her hilt first.
“Baba’s father made it as a gift for his grandmother,” she said as the woman took it. “But she rejected it when he joined the clergy. It was gifted during my binding.”
“She wasn’t a priestess?”
“A Matriarch,” Imdi replied.
“Curious,” Rylett murmured. “This word…”
“Talon,” Ki-yu muttered. “It says talon.” Rylett turned the weapon over in her paws, then quickly flicked away the blade. She ran her thumb along the engraved handle, tilting her head to one side.
“The word here, it’s more similar to Rūtgōj than Kejdar. In that tongue, this would read ‘eweni’ which, yes, means ‘talon’, or…” She smiled to herself. “Ah… clever lad…” Rylett’s eyes twinkled in the firelight. “It could also read, ’Claw’.”
“Claw?” Mama whispered. Rylett passed her the blade. “Why… Oh!”
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“I don’t understand,” Ki-yu huffed, looking between them.
“Me either,” Imdi added. ”What’s the difference?”
“Well,” Mama said, “say we were to fight.” Ki-yu blinked at her slowly, trying to picture mother and daughter in melee.
“I… don’t think it’d go well,” she murmured. Mama snorted.
“No, but let’s say I won. Let’s say I knocked you on your scaley rear!” She smiled to herself. “What would happen next? Well, I’d offer you a paw up. But for you, in that moment, you wouldn’t know if I was helping you or still trying to hurt you.”
“In a sense,” Rylett said, “to show one’s claws, to freely give a weapon, is an offer of parley. A gesture of trust.” Ki-yu looked down at her own paws. Where a radji’s were wide with thick, calloused pads, hers were long and narrow, with thin, nimble digits. Even the slender, sharp points of her claws were different to the flattened spades of her parents. She fidgeted with the nail.
“And…” she murmured, “you think Baba’s baba was giving his greatmama a chance to stop the fighting?”
“Well, I don’t really know, I never met them,” Rylett said. “But… perhaps. Perhaps he got tired of the arguments, and just wanted them to get along.” Mama shook her head.
“The Yiraq I knew was never the sort to make big gestures,” she said softly. “He was an arrogant, unpleasant man. Hard to please and light in his praises.”
“He didn’t love Baba?” Imdi asked quietly. Mama sighed heavily, passing him the knife.
“No, I-I think he did,” she said. “In his own way. He just… couldn’t say it.” Imdi nodded slowly, offering it back to Ki-yu. She turned her nose at it.
“No…” she said weakly. “You keep it.”
“Ki-yu,” Mama sighed gently, setting aside her empty bowl. “You picked that in your binding. You have to keep it.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want his things. He didn’t love Baba, not really.” Turin took the knife from Imdi, kneeling before her and holding it up in a paw.
“We don’t choose what we inherit,” she said, squeezing Ki-yu’s hand with the other. “But we can choose what we do with what we get.” Turin held out Talon on an open palm. “And it’s your knife now, sweetheart. Not his.” Ki-yu sighed. It is a good knife… Gingerly she took it back. “Remember Ki-yu,” Mama said, “it is a privilege of those with claws, to offer mercy.” Ki-yu turned the blade over in her hands, her Talon.
“I… don’t blame it,” she found herself saying. “The roht.” Mama tilted her head, nodding.
“It’s not it’s fault,” Mama said. “It’s just an animal.”
“It’s not meant to be here,” Ki-yu rasped. Mama’s face wrinkled for a long moment. She sniffed, sitting on the log beside her, pulling the girl into a side hug.
“But it’s here now,” she said, kissing the top of her head. “For better or for worse… it’s here now.”
They sat that way for some time, the fire licking warmth at their faces. Monster watched them sit in silence from Imdi’s lap, his eyes pools of golden-green flame. Rylett reached behind her to where she had placed her satchel, setting it into her lap. She rested her paws on it, clearing her throat and smoothing out the fabric.
“I brought you something,” she said. The Priestess pulled out a small blue fabric bag. Ki-yu recognised it at once, sitting up a little.
“My egg…” she whispered. Rylett sighed shakily.
“Ki-yu… I’m not as spry as I used to be,” she said. “And I’m coming to accept that there are fewer days ahead for me than there are behind. And… whilst I’ve made… some mighty fine mistakes in my time, I can honestly say that there is only a short list of things I feel shameful of. But this…” She felt the fabric. “This I really do regret. I broke this out of fear. Anger. Loss. Yet… it was also at that moment that… I saw you. If I could go back and stop myself–” Rylett’s breath ran out, the words dying on her lips.
“Some hurts are worth it,” Ki-yu murmured.
“Perhaps,” she said softly. “But… sometimes, when we break things, they can’t be repaired. The damage is too great.” Rylett’s eyes drifted upwards, pulled toward the great expanse above. Ki-yu sniffed, looking down at the embers. “But then again…” There was a rustling sound as the Priestess reached into the bag. There was no clattering of shattered fragments, and Ki-yu found herself staring as Rylett pulled out her egg. It was whole, remade and glittering in the firelight. “…sometimes all it takes is a little love and patience.” She held it out before her, Ki-yu reaching out to take it from her. It seemed far smaller in her hands than she remembered. The grey-blue iridescence almost seemed to wobble and glow, touched here and there by the warm radiance of the fire. Her own tiny reflection reached back in the shells sheen. Wordlessly, Ki-yu looked at the Priestess. Rylett smiled at her contentedly.
“I think you’re exactly where you need to be, Ki-yu.”
~*~
The first of dawn’s golden light was beginning to touch the forest as Ki-yu crawled out of the hollow. She had slept surprisingly well, even with Imdi insisting that they would both be warmer if he squeezed into the woodwaif too. Perhaps he was right; she had been warmer. That did not make up for being spiked once or twice.
Mama had set a small fire in the pit, clearly boiling fresh tea. The canvas tent had been taken down and rolled up, the look on her face telling Ki-yu that they had faired a far poorer night. Rylett only stood a short distance away. She had swept the snow from the tree stump and was leaning over it, inspecting its surface. Ki-yu wandered over, a little bemused.
“Good morning,” the woman said without looking up, her shawl draping over her arm as she ran her claw across the wood.
“Morning,” Ki-yu huffed, trying to rub some life into her arms. “What’re you doing?”
“Counting rings,” the Priestess replied.
“Oh…” She leaned closer, looking down on the sublime spirals. “Why?”
“Some trees leave a ring for every year they’re alive, every season. By counting them you can work out how old they were when they died.”
“Oh…” she said again. “H-how old was this one?”
“Hundreds of seasons at least.” Ki-yu’s breath puffed and roiled before her as she let the weight of that number wash through her. Together they looked over at the hollowed giant.
“Why would someone cut a tree down?”
“Perhaps they were cold.”
“To stand so long,” the girl said, “only to be toppled by some logger…” Rylett nodded with pursed lips.
“Everything ends, Ki-yu,” she breathed. “Save love.”
“I… don’t think trees feel love,” Ki-yu said. “Certainly not this one.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” The woman smiled wryly, the snow crunching as she was drawn to the boiling tea. “It kept you warm, did it not?”
They broke camp quickly. The others seemed apprehensive, nervous. Ki-yu could not exactly fault them —this was still dangerous work— but she at least knew what they would find; nothing would survive this cold with a wound like that. As they were leaving, Ki-yu picked up the crooked limb where she had left it against the log. Noting how her makeshift string was fraying at the end she bit off the loose strand. Her claw brushed against the cord, the vibration carrying up the wood and into her mouth. She pulled back, half-startled. That was… weird, she thought. Stashing it back in the tree and licking against the odd feeling it had left in her teeth, she led them back toward the bowl. Three radji and a pyq trudged through the snow. It felt sombre, morose. They did not speak a word.
It did not take long to find the trail splattered between gnarled roots. The smell of blood had the habit of being smothered by snow, the chill, dry air carrying little moisture. Instead, she followed the lingering plasma burn, with its rough metallic odour. But scent was not the only sign. Great staggering footprints were interposed with spatterings of blue blood, zigzagging away. Against the snow it was obvious; a child could have followed it. A child does follow it, she reflected, looking back at her brother. The pale girl, lying amid her pale flowers.
“You don’t have to do this, you know?” she said quietly. “You can go back to camp. I can manage on my own.”
“We’ll go where you go, sweetheart,” Mama said, panting a little. There’s no fighting them, she told herself. They pressed on.
The foothills here were dry and barren, the fundament above a pale blue devoid of cloud. As the terrain shifted downhill the merrylings seemed to vanish, as though they could not take root on the tilted, rocky ground. The naked, dormant corpses of thorny brambles sat like blackened, burned tendrils in the landscape, waiting for the spring rains. The roht had picked its way through them, fur sticking here and there on branch and thorn. It had made for the open grassland, perhaps thinking it could escape pursuit, perhaps instinctively heading for a den to lick its wounds. Perhaps it was merely running. The slope gave out suddenly into a steep drop, the scuff marks telling her that the animal had barely avoided plummeting. It was growing weak, clumsy. Ki-yu found her nose low to the earth; the hunt had overtaken her. They followed the ledge as it wrapped back around the slopes, their quarry attempting to find a less lethal drop. Small boulders littered a lesser ravine, one overlying the trail.
“Just how far could it have gone?” Rylett puffed behind her. Ki-yu leapt up onto the rock, sniffing hard. The frost had lessened here, the tinny notes of blood wafting like oil over water, viscous and mawkish in the nares.
“Not far,” she croaked. Her tail trailed high behind her as she pushed on, the radji helping each other over the impedance. The sound of flowing water ebbed toward them as the ravine passed into a wide meandering riverbed, full of small, round, pastel-pink stones. Dry ochre roots reached out from the bank, stretching for their counterparts on the other side. During wetter times the water would fill bank to bank, but now it was just a trickle at the brook’s centre. There was a deep groaning sound ahead, echoing around the bend. A chill ran up her spine, her tail stilling. Monster hissed from Imdi’s pack, his little orange fur sticking up.
“It’s still alive!” she hissed. They froze. Ki-yu was at the edge of panic and relief, trying to settle her breathing. It seemed for every three of her anxious breaths there was one drawn out, throaty rumble. The others crept forward carefully, all three bristling. Mama raised the rifle, the weapon pinging as she primed it. She swallowed hard, seeming to be fighting some mad urge to charge ahead. Rylett was a few steps back, one paw firm around Imdi’s wrist, the other shaking. Her face was a mask. Imdi had wide eyes, clearly terrified. They all had the same expression. Callio, Yotun, even Baba. She shuddered, something dark pulling her snout away from him. She put a paw on Mama’s arm, silently telling her to wait. Ki-yu’s shoulders rolled as she placed her steps, careful not to make a sound. She crept up to the bend and peered around.
The roht lay on its side in the frigid stream, the cold water lapping around it like a massive shaggy boulder. There was a strain to every breath, a rattling deep in the lungs. The shattered point of her makeshift spear was still embedded in its flank, the once umber fur singed black around the hole the plasma had torn through it.
Ki-yu looked at it. And looked… and looked. Was she waiting for it to spring up again? Then at least she could give chase. This is not hunting. Eventually she had to tear her eyes away, backing a few paces to where the others had crept up behind her.
“It’s barely breathing,” she reported. “I think we can get close enough.” She nodded to Rylett. “Keep him back here.”
“I’m n-not–” he began to protest.
“Do as you’re told,” Mama rumbled, almost as deeply as Baba. He nodded reluctantly. “I’m coming with you,” she told Ki-yu.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “Just stay ready.”
“Be careful,” Rylett whispered.
The two stood, moving out into the open, Imdi and Rylett peering around the bend.
“Goddess…” she heard the Priestess gasp. The roht had not moved, its groaning seeming to have lessened. Ki-yu still moved as quietly as she could, knowing that everything is more dangerous near the end. She kept one eye on Turin, careful to ward her off if she got too close.
The roht shifted, lifting its great squarish head. Turin instinctively glanced back at Imdi, taking a few cautious steps back. Ki-yu remained unmoved; the creature could not stand if it wanted to. But still it tried to force life into its deadening limbs, pawing groggily, willing itself to move. That it had made it this far was a monumental feat. Mites were already flittering about the snarl on its snout, bluish blood running so thick and dark it looked like drying tar dribbled from its lips. Just like her…
Ki-yu drew her knife. She strode toward it with singular intent.
“N-no, wait!” Imdi called out. Madly, stupidly, he ran to her. The roht growled, snapping at air. All three others moved to guard him, chase him, grab him.
“Imdi you fool!” Rylett gasped, snatching for him. Turin barred him with one arm, the other keeping the rifle ready. They all backed off a short distance, the dying predator watched them all the while.
“What’re you doing, you idiot?!” Ki-yu snapped, showing teeth. “This is not a game!”
“J-just wait!” he yelped. “Just… look at it.” The little boy’s eyes fell to the ragged mass of claws and teeth. “It’s dying…”
“Not quickly enough,” Ki-yu sneered. All three radji looked at her; the expression on Imdi’s face felt like maggots in her stomach. She scowled at him, gripping Talon’s handle tighter.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Her words were guttural, almost a snarl. “I didn’t ask you to come here. This has to happen.”
“Does it?” Mama asked, taking her eyes off the animal for but a moment.
“You know what I am,” she growled.
“I know what you must do to stay alive.”
“And what we’d all do for you,” Imdi added, his voice was a little gruffer than she remembered.
“Even in your stead,” Rylett nodded.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” she snapped, angry with the lot of them.
“You forget, child,” Kay-ut’s Champion whispered, “I’ve killed too. Killed to save those I love.” Ki-yu hissed, shaking her head. Why did she feel like crying?
“D-don’t you understand?! This is what we came out here for! It’s a killer! We’ve g-got to stop–” She was panting shakily, looking from one fuzzy face to another. She stared at Imdi pleadingly. “C-Callio…” she said weakly, making the lad’s eyes well-up. “Baba… it almost killed our Baba!”
“Wh-what happened to not blaming it?” he croaked. “Since when did you enjoy this?”
“That’s n-not fair!” she gasped. Behind her the roht rolled slightly, making them all start. Turin moved a step closer, the plasma round within the rifle so hot the air seemed to whine around the casing. The animal tried in vain to put a forelimb beneath itself, but all it did was shake and give out. It looked at Ki-yu with dim animal eyes, vacant with exhaustion and pain. And yet… and yet…
This one knows me… as I know them…
She need only drive the blade up between the ribs. Imdi’s paw curled around her wrist.
“Hey,” he whispered, looking her in the eye. “Last night… when you showed me that… weapon, I think I saw… what they–“ he gestured to the broader world, “–see in you.” He swallowed hard. “For the first time… I saw the pyq.” The word, the name, was like a cold curse through the heart.
“I… I’m not like them…” she all but whimpered, shying away from their gaze, the Priestess’s most of all. “I-I-I don’t want–!” Imdi threw himself around her middle, his arms squeezing tight.
“It’s okay,” he sniffed into her. “I’m not s-scared of what you are, Ku. You’re just my sister.” They’re not here for the roht… Careful of Talon in her paw she patted down his bristled back, resting her head on his. She looked forlornly at the dying roht. The creature made a deep mewling, sound, seeming to sag where it lay.
“I-I have to finish it…” she whispered. “I can’t let it suffer.”
“I know,” he sniffled, pulling away. “But you don’t have to be cruel.” She looked around at them all, letting out a deep sigh.
Ki-yu turned shakily back to the predator. She had stalked it for more than a week, spent days carving spears, used up all the rope Baba had bought for her, all to make this moment happen. She looked down at the knife in her hand as she stalked toward it. It tried to hiss at her, but the sound was just a wheeze. It snuffled loudly, at last setting down its great head with only the slightest of snarls on its lips. She was in no peril as she knelt right beside it; it did not have the strength to lash out. She put her palm to its chest, finding the skin remarkably chill. She recalled all she had learned of these creatures, how they had terrorised radjikind for millennia. How many have died like Callio? she wondered. Been crippled like Baba? Traumatised like Yotun? She brought her knife up, her Talon, held high above her screwed up eyes with both hands, ready to plunge it down into the predator’s heart.
How many have been killed by those like us?
Slowly, she peered down at it, and looked into its eyes. His eyes. She saw… herself, silhouetted against the pale sky. She saw the pain. The fear. A vacant rage. And… relief. Unmistakeably, a welling, a cresting of salvation.
The blade clattered down into the stream.
“H-hello…” she whispered hoarsely, unbuckling her poncho. She tossed it over the animal’s middle; even unfurled it did not reach more than a third across it. “I-I hope that kinda helps. I’m… sorry I hurt you… It’s… not your fault.” She glanced around at the others. “We… didn’t ask for this, did we?” she told it, fidgeting with her claws. “To live this way.” His breath was diminishing, golden eyes, once piercing and bright now barely focused. “You know… I-I used to think that by getting b-better at hurting I could maybe hurt less.” She tilted her head, swallowing against the ache in her chest. “B-but it doesn’t, does it? I-it never gets easier. But maybe there’s other things than hurting… I hope you found that.”
The animal started panting, breathing quickly, a gasping, rapid sound. The girl glanced at her brother, the boy had taken hold of his mother’s paw. Rylett was whispering something, perhaps a prayer. She turned back to the other predator, placing her palm against his chest. The breathing stopped. His mighty frame sagged, the great strength at last giving out. The water lapped around them, a cold embrace.
She put her arms about his still chest and cried.
~*~
The familiar treeline parted like a curtain, the lodge sitting in its wide flat prairie with its long rows of pens. The short grasses, grown coarse and yellow from the dry winter, rattled like bristling quills as they were crunched beneath the buggy’s tires. The moss on their home’s tiles had fared a little better, the soft dirt somehow holding more moisture. No doubt Baba has been wasting water on it. It made Ki-yu smile when he was sentimental like that. The thin trail of smoke billowing up into the afternoon air told her that he must have started on dinner.
The backdoor swung open as they stopped outside the pens, Baba limping out, grimacing a little with each step.
“At least he’s on his feet,” Mama murmured, some note of warmth breaking through her fatigue. Imdi jumped out of the buggy, running up to meet him. The man swallowed his grunt of discomfort as they embraced, shaking his head cheerily. Turin shifted two packs out of the buggy, dropping them by their feet.
“Oh do get on with it,” she huffed heartily. “I need a bath, dinner, and a good warm bed.” Baba smiled with playful eyes. “Do shut up,” she added before he could comment, splaying a paw across his chest as she kissed him. Imdi made a face as he picked up a pack.
“Blagh! That’s the grossest thing I’ve seen all week.” Ki-yu tittered at him, shivering a little beneath her poncho. Rylett leaned back from the passenger seat.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“Yeah, just a little cold is all.” Her winter wrappings had been left in the woodwaif. She would not need them if she was safe and warm at home. “Are you staying for dinner?”
“No,” the Priestess sighed, rubbing her face. “It’ll be late by the time I’m home, and I’ve delayed preparing on the new semester long enough.” She exited the vehicle, stretched, and rested her palms on the door where Ki-yu sat. “What about you? Are you going back into the forest?”
“No, I uh… would like to stay here for a bit. I think… I’ve been alone too long,” the girl said timidly, glancing back at the others. Imdi was clearly arguing the case for keeping Monster in his room, Mama wearing the look of someone so tired they found everything funny. Baba just listened with crossed arms as the boy held the kitten out toward him. He glanced at Ki-yu, giving her a bemused smile. “But… I don’t think I’m the only one,” she said, giving him a slight smile back. Rylett bent to be at eye level, placing a paw on her shoulder.
“You know, I think Callio would have liked you,” she said.
“R-really?” The woman nodded.
“She was a lot like you. Intelligent, brave, kind.”
“Even… even with…” She gestured at her dark scales.
“Ki-yu,” Rylett said, her deep voice holding a tremor like a distant avalanche. “You’re nothing like them, you hear me? You know the cost of what you do, and respect it. But I think… sometimes you try and hide from it. Go as far away from us as you can, where we can’t see you. Imdi’s right, you built that weapon to put as much distance as you could between yourself and your prey. We don’t choose who we are, but we can choose who we want to be. Just… remember we all do love you, okay?”
“Y-you… you…” Ki-yu could not find the words, so she just nodded. Rylett smiled warmly.
“Another lesson next week?” Ki-yu kept nodding. “Stop that, you’re making me dizzy,” she laughed. Ki-yu nodded, then shook her head. I need to lie down. Rylett picked up her satchel and pack, smiling at her. “I’d best go say my goodbyes. Stay safe, Ki-yu.”
Imdi had apparently won his gambit and fled with Monster to his room before their parents could change their minds. Ki-yu snickered to herself as she slid from her seat, carefully taking her blue egg bag in one paw as she shouldered the last of the supplies. Turin and Rylett shared some quiet words as they passed indoors, Baba looking up as she approached.
“Hey sweetheart,” he said. “Here, let me get that.”
“Hi Baba,” she grunted as he took the pack with one arm.
“How’re you doing?” he asked, putting it over one shoulder.
“Okay,” she said, tossing her head. “Better.”
“You cold?”
“Very,” she said with a shudder. “You better have a fire on.” He chuckled as she strode right past him. “How’s your leg?” He seemed to be walking more evenly than the last time she had seen him.
“Can’t quite roll the ankle, but it’s on the mend.” He set the pack down with the others on the table, brushing off his paws. “So…” he said, his tone matter of fact. “It’s done.”
“Yeah… it’s gone.” He nodded, looking blankly down at the floorboards. She knew exactly what he was thinking about; that should be the last of them, if Teraka had told it true. Her beloved Baba seemed so much smaller than she remembered, so much more vulnerable. She carefully set her egg down on the countertop, dropping her pack much more haphazardly to the ground. He turned to her, his jaw offset.
“Turin said you didn’t…” he said stiffly. Ki-yu shook her head.
“I couldn’t do it,” she whispered. He nodded.
“Good,” he said. “That’s… that’s good.”
“You stayed here,” she said flatly.
“I’d have… gotten in the way.” He leaned against the table. “Even without this damn leg…” He frowned down at himself, rubbing at his hip. Ki-yu wandered over to him, sitting on the tabletop beside him. She swung her legs, her toes just barely touching the floorboards.
“We might have been safer with you there,” she said carefully. He nodded again.
“Maybe,” he said. “But you’d only have found my… anger. My weakness.”
“You’re not weak.”
“Yes I am,” he said quickly. “Ki-yu… I couldn’t– that creature…”
“You wanted to hurt it back. For all the hurt it’s caused us.” His jaw went taught.
“Yes,” he said, screwing up his eyes.
“It’s why you sent the others,” she said.
“You’d have done the right thing regardless,” he said. “You may be a hunter sweetheart, but you’re no killer. You just… needed to hear it from them more than me.” Ki-yu rumbled quietly, resting her head on his shoulder.
“I still need you Baba,” she said. “I’ll always need you.”
“If the day doesn’t come when you no longer need me, I’ll have failed as a father.”
“Well get used to being a failure,” she snorted. He chuckled.
“Thanks.” Oh, that reminds me. Ki-yu moved over to her pack, crouching as she dug through it.
“So,” she called over her shoulder. “Imdi says you’ve been teaching him the sonophone?”
“Yeah…” He nodded slowly. “It, uh… he’s getting there.”
“I… um… I found something. Well, made something.” She pulled out her crooked branch, then as much of the vyrryn hair twine as she had made. Baba peered closer as she sat at the table. The girl tied a second string around it, closer to the bend, then a third closer still. Tying them off, she plucked at the string. It twanged flatly.
“See? Hear that?” She strummed it again, experimenting with timing. “Do you think it could work?”
“I dunno,” Baba said, grunting softly as he sat beside her. “But we can try, can’t we?” Ki-yu nodded, barely noticing the smile on her own face.
Slowly, she found her notes. She plucked a chord, and the weapon sang.
---
“All right. It's instinctive. But the instinct can be fought. We're human beings with the blood of a million savage years on our hands, but we can stop it. We can admit that we're killers, but we're not going to kill today. That's all it takes. Knowing that we won't kill today.”
– James T. Kirk, ST:TOS 1:23. A Taste of Armageddon.