Myrrha emerged from the water curtain into the moist yet softly lit alcove behind it. Reflections danced across sleek walls, worn smooth by the constant flow, giving them a wave-like appearance. Beyond, a narrow gap led deeper into the cave’s unexplored reaches, its darkness drawing her in.

Satha and Kiri followed shortly, shaking their heads to fling the water from their hair before glancing in amazement. “Wow, this is bigger than I imagined,” Satha murmured, her voice echoing faintly off the stone and the deep dark below.

Kiri on the other hand was quick to notice something of interest—a soft patch of rock, its porous surface weathered by eons of humidity. Without warning, she raised her arm and etched her mark upon it, immortalizing it on the cold stone.

“Hey! Not fair—leave me some room!” Satha instantly grumbled, rushing over to carve her own claw mark in whatever space Kiri left untouched. She scratched the rock, purring smugly satisfied with her work before turning around. “How about you, Myrrha?” Her tail flicked playfully. “I dug pretty deep if I say so myself, want to try?”

Myrrha blinked, rolling her eyes. “I’m fine,” her mind still lingering elsewhere and her gaze still fixed on the darkness before her

“Oh, come on! How else will your great-great-grandkids know you beat them here?” Satha purred, Kiri, joining her.

Myrrha hesitated, glancing at the wall where the two youths had left their marks. She exhaled softly and moved forward, dragging her claws across the soft stone. The sound rang, louder than she had expected.

She expected to shrug and turn around but didn’t. It was just to keep the two rascals happy, she told herself—nothing more. But as she stepped back, the weight of her mark pressed back at her, heavier than she’d expected.

Satha’s words echoed in her head, but she dispelled the thought, casting a final glance toward the gap’s shadowy mouth before moving toward the hole. “Let’s go,” she murmured, “there’s more ahead.”

Myrrha moved deeper into the cave, Satha and Kiri hesitating for the briefest of moments before trailing after her.

The passage was narrow but tall enough to stand. As they squeezed through, the sunlight gradually faded until they were engulfed in darkness, yet they pressed on, occasionally bumping into each other. At last, they emerged into a large alcove illuminated by a constellation of glow rocks scattered across the ceiling, casting the cave in a sheepish green hue.

For a moment, they simply gawked, admiring in silence cloaked in the dim light.

“It’s just like the night sky!” Satha blasphemed, her ears perking up—only to flatten as her gaze landed on what lay ahead.

Before them stretched a colossal tunnel—not rugged or uneven like the rest of the cave, but impossibly smooth and pitch-black, almost viscous in its darkness; seemingly endless—but that wasn’t what made Myrrha freeze.

Surrounding the entrance, sculpted into the rock, was a giant maw: alien and bristling with stone-carved teeth sharp as nettles. It was the gaping mouth of a fish, one far more monstrous than any Myrrha had ever seen.

She moved forward with Kiri in tow. The latter even stepped forward and kneeled beside the sculpted lower teeth, brushing her fingers slightly against the solid but surprisingly viscous black stone.

“Storms and thunder!” Satha shuddered from behind. “Don’t touch that, Kiri!”

“It’s just stone.” Kiri shrugged, flat as always.

Satha struggled to keep her tail upright. “It’s an evil stone, get away from it! This reeks of squisher! I’ve heard tales of giant carved stone pillars scattered about the deep jungle. They scar the land and dig deep to spread their poison on the earth!”

To which Kiri simply repeated, “It’s… stone.”

The two bickered—Satha complaining, and Kiri responding with the same answer over and over. Mhyrrha ignored them, staring straight at the black tunnel.

Squishers. That was a name she had recently only heard by chance. The story goes that long ago when the world was young and Felix crawled on four legs, the Stormbringer blew so hard he brought the sea to Lumaria, and with it came the squishers. Creatures of the deep, large, and scally with large eyes and flabby feet that squished as they passed. And so they marched, sucking the blood of the earth, trampling jungle into swamp, swamp to lake, lake to sea—dragging the land down with them to the depths whence they came where no light shone.

But that was no more. Not if the tales of the last tribe-mother rang true. But instead of fear, her tail perked. That brought her back, she remembered when she first heard that story. She and Nya huddled together, fighting for a closer spot so the elder Felix could tell the tale of how the moon delivered them from their predators.

She and Nya.

Suddenly the memory soured in her mouth and she dispelled it. She looked back, wondering what Nya would say if she were here, but did not need to think hard to know. ‘Turn back’ she’d say ‘Come to your senses. What is the point?’

The point. The point was everything! Not that Nya would understand. She wouldn’t see how fascinating it was—how it was a legend-made stone. She couldn’t see what kind of loot potentially hid there, not flesh or bone - things neither of them could imagine.

If only Nya saw what she did. If only they were still as they were, kittens huddled around the fire, mocking storms and daring the squishers to return so they could cast them back into the sea—together.

But Nya wasn’t here. Not anymore. And maybe never again. Not with all those damn kittens in the way.

Myrrha clicked her tongue and knelt on the rocky floor. Without a word, she began gathering glow rocks from the ground. “Kiri, tear a branch from the rubble by the entrance will you?”

Kiri understood and did as she was told, but Satha looked back and forth dumbfounded “Wait, you are not seriously meaning to go down there are you?”

“You are free to turn back, daughter of Kara.” Myrrha did not skip a beat, still collecting the fallen glowing rocks. They were dangerous little things - tended to explode and shatter on contact when dried and heated - it's how Shiri lost her eye, in fact. But in the dark moisture of a cave, they should be perfectly safe. Should be. They would soon see.

Kiri came back with the stick and better yet: her belt. Myrrha executed her plan, filling her hunting net with glow rocks, and crafting a makeshift lamp by weaving it to the edge of the stick. She raised it to test it, dispelling the darkness and painting the tunnel green. Good. A Felix could see in the dark, but not in pitch black. Nothing could, but not everything had to.

She looked back, considering her options, but that was brief. Between the oozing darkness and Nya’s gaze, the choice was obvious. Besides, her heart tingled at the thought of the unknown. “Let's go.” She moved.

“What could you possibly hope to find here?” Satha clenched her fists.

Myrrha did not stop.

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“This is just like with the big canoe! You just can't let it well enough alone-”

She marched on faster, joined by Kiri, slowly leaving Satha behind. Myrrha could see the long shadow of the youngling’s tail wagging anxiously. She would be lying if the sight of the usually so fearless huntress trembling did not make her purr, but she knew Satha would not hold out for long. She couldn’t help it.

“All right, all right!” Satha’s ears folded. “Wait for me!” She darted after them, catching up. Myrrha did not spare her a glance, keeping her tail at bay.

And so they pressed forward. The tunnel was perfectly round, bending in a circle beneath their feet and rounding up far above their heads with none of the ragged edges and indentations caves were known for. It was said that Moon Valley was once a river turned to stone when it refused the goddess’s pull to the sea, hence the flowing rock frozen in place, but this was different, it was as much a sculpture as the teeth in the entrance, but there were no markings or any sign of chiseling, which was hard to fathom.

The tunnel was also difficult to navigate, going up, down, and sideways without warning, spreading like a maze. They could climb, but the stone was too sleek, and the tunnels seemed to disregard all semblance of convenience, some passageways more like gaping holes in the ground while others straight collums shooting up. More than once, Myrrha dropped a glow-rock down the shaft to see how far it went, only to be left waiting for a thud that never came.

“This place makes no sense!” Satha clicked her tongue, her ears bent as she gazed down. “Why build tunnels that only make you fall to your death?” Then she looked up. “Or can't climb?”

“It's like…” Kiri joined her confusion.

“Like they are meant to be swum through.” Myrrha frowned, moving on.

Satha gave her a look that made it clear she knew exactly what she meant. “But squishers aren't real!” She stumbled.

“Not anymore,” Myrrha whispered. Then she saw it.

Bones.

A sea of them, sprawled across a hall large enough to fit a whole valley, stretching as far as the green light could reach. Felix bones.

"By the goddess..." Kiri muttered as if to herself, a slight tremor running through her hands.

"Fuck," Satha let slip, her claws already bared as her gaze darted across the hall. "What the storm happened here?"

Myrrha didn’t answer. She took a step forward, her foot tapping against one of the slimy floors untouched by bone, taking a knee beside one of the skeletons, noticing the charring. “They were burned.”

“There is no ash about.” Satha begrudgingly stepped forward “There would be signs.”

“Time could have taken them.” Kiri offered her solution.

“In a tunnel? There is no wind here, nor have we seen a single living thing, and believe me I was watching.”

“She's right.” Myrrha nods.

“Am I?” Satha seemed surprised.

Myrrha reached down, sliding her finger along the floor. She peeled away a bit of the same black, viscous substance that coated everything from the entrance’s teeth to the tunnel’s roof. It wasn’t slippery, but sticky—clinging to her skin like tar. It reeked a foul but familiar smell she could have sworn she sensed before but could not quite place. Nya would have known, but Nya wasn’t here.

All she knew was that, deep down, her gut told her this caused the fire.

“Kiri, pass me the stick I need to-” Then she heard a click. Silence. “Kiri…” She turned in the slowest of motions and saw the mechanism the quiet fool had stepped on. Time slowed, and she could all but hear the gears turning beneath the ground, a trap and a sharp spike sprouting out aiming for Kiri’s chest.

Myrrha threw herself between Kiri and the spike, shoving her aside just in time to spare her heart—but not her leg. The spike drove into her thigh with brutal precision. ‘Argh!’ she cried, instinctively yanking back, only to feel the jagged edges tear deeper into muscle.

“Kiri!” Satha rushed to her.

“I am stuck,” Kiri ground out through gritted teeth; but their troubles had only begun as the sound of rushing water echoed against the walls, flushing towards them.

Myrrha felt a cut on her too but knew there was no time to spare, darting to Kiri, and examining the trap. The spike had pierced through, splitting open at the far side like a jagged claw, preventing her from pulling it free.

Soon enough the freezing water licked their feet and slithered up their legs one inch at a time. Myrrha knelt, trying to think as best she could.

“Myrrha?” Satha asked, her eyes darting back and forth from the exit.

“Just go, I'll handle this.” Myrrha waved her off.

But Satha resisted, her fire returning “No, I can help!”

“Do as I say!” Myrrha snarled, shoving her toward the back. “I am her first. She is mine. It’s our way—”

“A cadre stands together!” Satha snapped back, her ears flat. “That’s our way too.”

Myrrha hesitated, her claws flexing, eyes flicking between Kiri’s injury and the rising water, confounded by her words. “It's fine. I will handle this, I always do.”

“Not alone.”

Myrrha growled, unwilling to waste more time. “Fine! Hold her.”

Satha crouched beside Kiri without hesitation, steadying the spike. Kiri, for her part, said and did nothing despite the tension of the rising water, her tail stiff and her face betraying no emotion save for the light cringe of pain.

“Give me your belt,” Myrrha ordered with no time to waste.

Kiri’s tail stayed stiff, her expression flat, save for a flicker of pain in her eyes as she handed over her belt. “I am stuck” she repeated, flat as ever.

“I can see that!” Myrrha growled as she twisted the belt tightly around Kiri’s leg. “This is going to hurt,” she warned, to which Kiri simply nodded. Without a word, Satha gripped the jagged metal firmly with both hands, steady but tense as the water swirled around their knees, bones floating around them. Her claws scraped the sharp edges of the trap, testing for any give. It was stubborn, ancient—this thing had waited here for goddess knew how long.

“Ready?” Myrrha murmured, staring her in the eyes. Kiri gave a short nod, and Satha adjusted her grip.

“Pull!”

It was quick, but brutal, the spike resisting but no match for their combined strength. Kiri fell off, into the water, a flicker of relief crossing her face, blood warming the water.

Myrrha hoisted Kiri up, looping her arm around her shoulders, feeling the dead weight of her friend against her back. “Hold on,” she growled, tightening her grip. “You’re not dying. Not here.”

“Myrrha?” Satha urged as the water reached their thighs.

Myrrha handed her the lamp “Lead the way. Fast.”

Satha nodded and, once in her life, did as she was told.

They staggered through the water, pushing toward the exit. Each step was a battle against the rising current, each breath a reminder that they were running out of time. Kiri’s breaths came in shallow gasps, her face ghostly pale, her blood spreading like dark tendrils in the water behind them.

The tunnel narrowed, the water rising to their chins as they swam way back. Myrrha clung to Kiri’s limp body, half-dragging her through jagged rocks until they reached the gap they had first encountered.

“Hold your breath,” Myrrha ordered, and without waiting for a response, she hauled Kiri through the narrow gap. Satha tried to help but only tangled herself in the effort. Myrrha’s lungs burned, panic clawing at the edges of her mind as the tight space pressed in on all sides. Just as the world began to tilt, the gap gave way, spitting them into the pool outside the waterfall.

Myrrha grabbed them both, driving her claws into the nearest rock to anchor them until the torrent passed. When the water finally settled, she hauled them onto the rocky shore, gasping and shivering from the freezing water.

Kiri’s breaths came shallow and erratic, her body shaking with shock. Myrrha knelt over her, pressing her hands against the bleeding stump, trying desperately to keep warmth in her limbs. “Stay with me,” she muttered, her voice rough and frayed. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, Kiri! Don’t you fucking dare!”

She pumped her chest until finally, Kiri burst to life, choking and vomiting half a gallon of water. Myrrha sagged with relief, though her hands never left Kiri’s side.

The sound of footsteps splashing through the water reached their ears. Myrrha looked up to see the rest of the cadre rushing toward them, wide-eyed, a bundle of dry leaves and herbs clutched in someone’s arms.

Satha leaned over Kiri, tightening the tourniquet with steady hands. Myrrha let go and sat back, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Only for trouble to start again. “What happened?” The huntresses parted to reveal Nya, her fists clenched.

“We were exploring - there was an accident-” Myrrha answered, still huffing.

“Again?” Nya interrupted, just as sharp as she intended.

Myrrha stood up, confused. “Again…? We were just in a cave.”

“What were you even doing there?”

Myrrha stared right back at her “Exploring. There was a squisher tunnel, we didn’t know.”

“Didn't know? That should be the first sign of danger should it not? But not for you, apparently.” Nya stepped forward.

Myrrha’s eyes narrowed. “The storm is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you did it again!” Nya stomped her foot. “You saw what you had no business getting into and just plunged right into it! What now, are you going to bring a fish-man home too?”

That was enough. Myrrha squared her shoulders, ears pricked and pupils narrowed into slits as she fixed her glare. “Unless you intend to throw more than words at me, I suggest you choose your next ones carefully.”

They approached, and the gap between them shortened to the point they bumped into each other, leaving no more room for posturing. There were only two choices: submission or blood, and this time, Myrrha couldn’t shake the feeling it’d be the latter. “Stand down.” She growled.

But just as suddenly as Nya came on, she stood down, her ears deflating, but before she left she leaned in, whispering in her ear: “Next time you put anyone else in danger for your amusement, I won't.” Before departing, shoving Dinka on her way out.

Just in time for her wound to catch up with her, her leg failing her as she fell into Junka’s arms. “Just get me home.”