Kite POV

The Angran language was a language that had a lot of synonyms. There were at least two words for almost every thing which existed in the world. Gentle rains were not to be confused with violent storms from the oceans. A docile cooking fire was not the same as the Sun Fiend’s blazing spears. Soft daylight was different from the Sun Falcon’s scorching light of justice. Greshans trusted everything to always be the same, to always be reliable, but we knew even the friendliest dog could become an enraged hound when provoked.

The land was the same. The wastelands where we made our home were flat, mostly. It made it easy to see those approaching from afar, and easy to be spotted yourself, too. To the south were the oceans, to the west someone could see Gresha City and the Deep Woods. But when you looked back east, the broken lands of the Wastelands stretched out as far as you could see. The elders told us that it was left this way due to an ancient battle, or perhaps an ancient curse. Whatever the reason, plants didn’t grow here. There were no trees or foliage to protect you from storms, foul winds, and predators. Only the hardiest weeds, animals, and people were the things that thrived here.

The nature of the world could change at the snap of a finger. Only those who kept walking forwards and adapting would survive. And everyone who fell behind was someone we would one day avenge. In this way, they too helped us progress forward.

Some days I wondered how many people in the village had given up on me as one of those falling behind.

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I was sure Talon hadn’t given up on me, though. Even if it sometimes seemed like he had. The world itself may be capable of suddenly changing nature, but family was something you could always rely on. Family would pull you along with you, even when your legs gave out.

Or...perhaps not all family. I knew Mother never would. But that Talon had never let go of Asha meant he would never let go of me either, right? He was a caring and reliable person, I knew it.

Still, I struggled. Every day I tried my best to keep up on my own, to run along with everyone else. To show I could still walk. Even if they only ever let me be a shepherd, or help the women weave wool into clothes. Every day I pulled my weight, awaiting the day they would just give me a chance. I knew how strong Talon was, how strong Father had been when he was alive. If they just bothered to give me a chance, to look my way, to give me a good enough weapon and let me fight, I could be just as strong as them, right?

It was just that after Talon started spending time away from the village, no one would ever even look my way. It wasn’t that I was weak, it was that they were scared of the potential I had, with someone like Talon as my brother! Yeah, that’s it!

Until the day they looked my way, though...I’d just have to show them by being the best damn shepherd in the village! Until they had to acknowledge how good I was—and I was really good, too! Under my watch, the sheep hardly ever wandered off. Sometimes I even felt that I could read their body language, like they liked me too and were telling me things. That they would warn me before predators or raiding parties from other villages would arrive, in their own sheep-y way. There was a small number of things which could be relied on, in this world. I was sure I understood the nature of the sheep.

It was the sheep which noticed the raiding party first. Long before I did. Long before any scouts rode by to warn me. Only their baa-ing caught my attention. That’s when I noticed the approaching shapes of the war party in the distance. I quickly made for the nearest small, sloping hill and squinted my eyes at them. It was strange. They didn’t look like they were from any of the nearby Angra villages, and it wasn’t the right season for them to be a concern anyways. Were they foreigners from further north? A roving troop of bandits? Then I realized which direction they were coming from.

This wasn’t a simple small raiding party. It was a Greshan war party, though in smaller numbers than usual. So why were they headed for the grazing fields? Briefly I was torn between fleeing, getting the sheep to safety, and waiting them out in hopes they’d avoid a simple flock of sheep. But they looked like they were focused on the flock, and I’d get yelled at again if I lost them...but what if there was another option? What if this was the chance I’d been waiting for?

What if I managed to defeat a whole Greshan war party! This looked like a very small one, only fifteen people, and Uncle Harrier and his raiders were always talking about how the Greshans were soft, lazy, and stupid. I could be like one of the heroes in old legends, winning not through strength but through guile and trickery! Then everyone would finally acknowledge how useful I was, maybe they’d even throw a huge feast in my honor!

If something like that happened, even Talon and Mother would have to congratulate me! I could even fight beside Talon on battlefields!

Wait, but what weapons did I have to fight the war party with? My hands stumbled across my body for something to use, but all I could find was my small whittling knife. It would just have to do—the war party had almost arrived! Already the sheep were beginning to scatter. It was much too late to make an attempt at gathering them up and herding them to safety.

One boy from the Greshan war party was already rushing ahead. He was around Talon’s age of eighteen years. With wavy brown hair reaching past his shoulders, where he lacked Talon’s height it looked made up for it in breadth and weight. His shiny black and red armor looked impressive, but from what I’d heard of Greshans and his soft features, I was sure very little of his breadth was actually muscle.

Splendid! It didn’t look like he had seen me at all! I wouldn’t need a powerful weapon to hurt a weakling like that, enough a small knife would be enough. Quickly and quietly, I snuck up on the Greshan soldier. Aiming for the fleshy gaps of his armor, I flashed my knife and—

What?

Somehow, he had me pinned against him!? How was he so fast? My wrist hurt from how he twisted it, and I couldn’t move my knife hand at all—no, wait, he’d tossed my knife away to the side. Surely this was inhuman speed? Some foreign magic? Greshans weren’t supposed to be this fast and strong! Even as I kicked and tried to free myself, my feet only slipped on the muddy ground. Suddenly I was all too aware of the rock-hard muscles beneath his armor and fat. He could snap my arm like a twig if he really wanted to…

The rest of the war party caught up with my captor. In the lead was an auburn-haired young man, clearly older than my captor, with amber eyes wielding a spear in one hand and a dagger in the other. He was certainly taller, and looked a little more obviously muscular. From the way the others looked at him, I could tell the taller man was in charge. He spoke first, with authority and an air of not arrogance, but rather boisterousness and good cheer. Something I couldn’t really appreciate when I was certain they would capture or kill me now.

Oh. Oh, this was exactly what Talon had warned me about before now, wasn’t it. My stomach lurched, even as my captor held me more securely.

“Even when you skip out, Elian, you’re always so efficient. The other warriors can learn a thing or two from you,” he almost chuckled. My face twisted. How dare he be so...gleeful? How dare he speak as though I were already out of the fight, as though—as though I weren’t even here? The other accompanying soldiers were no better, muttering amongst themselves and exchanging glances. Though I was not in the village, my mind was suddenly taken back there, to the many, many occasions when no one would even look at me.

“Head Menone,” my captor said. A ‘head’ was like ‘Uncle’ right? A respected warrior? “If this one was so easy to capture, he’s nothing to worry about. He’s too weak to bother with.” My skin grew clammy and sweaty as I started to get a better idea of what they may have come here for. But of course they did. What else could it have been? Demonic Fiend-worshippers.

“The King wanted us to bring back sacrifices,” the older warrior, Head Menone. The King was like a council, right? Only...they were just one person, and they didn’t earn their authority. It was just handed to them, like any lazy Greshan. Head Menone continued to press, “Are you disobeying his command? My own brother?”

“I would never, Head Menone,” Elian said. “But the Crown-Son’s teachings say that we shouldn’t think of just ourselves, but Gresha’s greater good.” Eh, Crown-Son? What was a Crown-Son? Elian didn’t stop to explain it to me. “The bigger issue isn’t sacrifices, it’s food, right? And there’s a flock of sheep right there…”

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Menone frowned, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Well, I don’t see why we can’t just take both--”

“Y-you can’t take those!” I suddenly shrieked. “I-if you take those I’ll kill you! S-so...eep…” As the amber eyed warrior’s gaze turned to me, I shrank back into Elian’s grasp, which now almost felt protective...wait, no, he was a Greshan! He wasn’t protecting me, the only reason he didn’t want to kill me was because I was too weak. Because I wasn’t even worth the effort. If they were going to underestimate me, then I wouldn’t waste it! Making up my mind, I began to kick and squirm and bite.

Quick as a flash, Elian slammed me down on the ground and slammed a blow into my head. Things began to grow fuzzy, and their words grew more distant. Elian’s tone was apologetic, he...apologized for acting rashly and killing me? I was dead? Menone seemed disappointed, but not upset… My thoughts fixated on what Elian had said. This was death? Death felt foggier and heavier than I expected it to. I thought I’d have a glorious death, proving my worth, not something slow and heavy like...this.

Even as I wanted to push myself upright, it felt like the mud was keeping me chained down. It became too hard to tell what they were saying now, but it sounded like they were barking orders now. Then their voices faded altogether. For a time I faded in and out of consciousness… until a time when I came to and they were gone.

Everyone was gone. The war party, the sheep. It was sunset, and I was alone, the orange-red light spilling off across the Wastelands and oceans, painting everything in the prettiest fire and blood.

I survived. But only because they decided I was too weak to concern themselves with… Because they hadn’t even stopped to check that I was dead. It wasn’t the victory I had been hoping for. Rather, it just felt hollow and bitter. Like I’d been left without food for two days.

This wasn’t my fault. This wasn’t! It was— everyone else. Talon, who wouldn’t train me. Mother, who wouldn’t look at me. The whole village, who wouldn’t even give me the scraps of a sheep’s leftovers. If they’d given me a chance, this wouldn’t have happened! If they’d given me a chance, I would have handled this whole situation better! I could’ve actually been the hero and killed those filthy Greshans while I was at it! I knew I could, because now I knew the rumors were true, completely true. Greshans were disgustingly soft and arrogant and foolish. If I’d have an actual weapon, instead of making do with a whittling knife, I could have won!

So humiliating. I’d have to make sure I never made the same mistake again. When I finally felt ready to move again and push myself into a sitting position, it was sunset. My face and clothes were stained with dirt, but I made myself stand and begin the walk back to the village. Despite my sore body and aching head, I walked. On the way back, I kept an eye out for any stray sheep from the flock that might have escaped, but saw none.

I really was alone, wasn’t I. It was time to stop expecting the others to notice me. Time to do something drastic...something.

First, I stopped by home. A small, naive part of me was hoping Mother had noticed my absence. Perhaps she had even worried for me. As I entered, she’d reveal she’d been waiting by the door for me all this time, would immediately pounce upon me as I returned and begin fussing over me. Perhaps we could even share dinner, and I could tell her all about what happened as she nodded sympathetically.

This hope turned out to be wrong, of course. Mother was as stoic and unreadable as ever. When she finally noticed me, all she had to say was “You were out? Dinner has already finished. You’ll have to eat on your own.”

“Oh. O-okay.” My gaze sank to the ground. “I… need to talk to Uncle Harrier about something.”

“Do that before you eat, then. You should have done that before you came back.”

“Y-yes, Mother,” I muttered. There was still a hollowness in my belly, and it was not hunger. Or rather, it was not a hunger for food.

Uncle Harrier was never a difficult man to find. As an elder of the village who had earned his position through war, and who now spent his free time training the warriors of the next generation, he was always at the center of attention. Once, he had been tall and muscular, with an impressive beard and length of hair to match. Age had shrunk and wrinkled him somewhat, dying his hair silver like the moon.

He was not a difficult man to find. But today, he was a different man to approach. While I could figure out where he was, easily enough, I was not allowed to speak with him and guards quickly turned me away. Council was in session and would not be disturbed, they said. Listening in on rumors around the Angra-Fyr Village told me what had happened.

My sheep and I were not the only ones attacked today. The Angra-Fyr Village had successfully weathered a raid with no deaths or losses. Other neighboring villages had sent word that they were not so lucky. People had been taken from them.

It wasn’t hard to guess the reason. But that it had happened out of season was concerning to people.

Because I had returned quite late in the day, I did not have to wait long for Uncle Harrier to become available though. Eventually the meeting was put on hold, to wait for more information and so the elders could return home, sleep, and rest. For now, the only action they would be taking was increasing the guard patrol around the village and our territory.

Even then, I couldn’t talk to Uncle Harrier. Other villagers wanted answers too, of course. There was no way I could force my way through the crowd, weak as I was. But I refused to be denied forever, either.

A very bold idea appeared in my mind. That...would get his attention.

When night fell, Uncle Harrier returned to his home. And I was there, following behind him. The village was so used to not looking my way that none noticed. Certainly, none cared to point it out. Even once Uncle Harrier shut himself up in his home, I found a way to stealthily enter. I was small and slim, and I could climb easily enough. And of course an elder’s home was spacious enough for a chimney and not an outdoor stove. It was a tight fit, but skipping dinner this day was my luck.

I was a little too noisy landing on my feet, but very quickly hopped back up, trying to hide again in the chimney when Uncle Harrier came to investigate. Unfortunately, luck was not on my side this time. Keeping myself off the ground took more strength and stamina than I had at the time. I landed on my rear, making a thump that led Uncle Harrier directly to me. He grabbed me by the arm, dragging me upright. He was old, but it looked like he wasn’t lacking in strength.

“And who might you be? A little assassin?” Uncle Harrier muttered, before shaking his head.

“N-not an assassin! I’m Kite!” I said. I hesitated relying on his name like this, but because I needed Uncle Harrier attention more than anything, I followed with, “Talon’s brother!”

To my surprise, Uncle Harrier threw back his head and roared in laughter. He dropped me back on the floor and I stumbled for footing, falling to my knees again. Uncle Harrier sat down, eying me critically, in a way that seemed like the shocking ice to his laughter’s warmth. “Talon’s brother doesn’t seem so graceful on his feet. How is the little Fiendspawn?”

“P-pardon?” I asked, shocked back into politeness by the rude language.

Uncle Harrier shrugged, downing a cup of herbal tea. “Fiendspawn. Beast. Scavenger. Rat. The boy’s earned plenty of ‘titles.’ Well, boy?”

“I...I don’t know,” I admitted. “He doesn’t visit us often…”

“True. If he finally lost his reason, he’d be cutting throats in the square. Not sending a mouse to do his dirty work. He’s a great many things, but he doesn’t lack for courage...when it suits the Crown-Brat,” Uncle Harrier grunted. “Then why are you here, if not as his messenger? Looking for him yourself?”

“Of course not!” I spat. “I wanted to ask you to train me--”

“Okay.”

I blinked. It was...that easy? “Th-that’s it? Just...‘okay’?”

“If a boy wants it enough, he’ll find his way into the raiders one way or another. You will either learn to keep up, or leave by yourself soon enough,” Uncle Harrier said. “I have no use for weak boys who avoid battle, or rats who only shows up when it pleases them. Are you a rat, mouse, or human, boy?”

“I’m not an animal!” I yelled. “If you would just give me a chance—”

“Oh?” Uncle Harrier leaned forwards. Night had fallen, and his eyes loomed out from the shadows cast across his face. “I should give you a chance? Do you think that when I was a boy, I sat around pleading for chances? No. Had I done that, I would have died young. Do I look dead to you? Like a Restless, perhaps?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “We make our own chances. Your brother, for all his foul nature, doesn’t care who recognizes him, who wants to speak with or avoid him. He forges ahead, towards his desires. So what is it you desire, boy? Just my attention, just a chance?” He squinted, then leaned back in his chair away from me again. “Well. You have it. I’m watching you. What is it you want?”

For a moment, the words wouldn’t come. This was a bad idea, a small voice whispered in my mind. When no one noticed you, it was a lonely existence, yes. But a comfortable one, in a strange way. No one had any expectations for you. No one cared if you came or went, or demanded things of you. The world could pass you by, and you were free to choose if you wanted to participate or not. There were no consequences for failure, because no one expected you to succeed. One could safely watch everyone else from the sidelines, dreaming themselves a fantasy life in which all would just be better, if only they were given the chance…

But here I was, being handed the chance on a mahogany platter. And now that it was being offered to me, I knew it would be my fault, and mine alone, if I somehow messed this up. What was I meant to do here? Fight Harrier and beat him in a duel? But I was too weak. If I ran, I wouldn’t be able to keep up for long, nor could I outpace anyone else… So what could I…

“...Uncle Harrier. The walls of Gresha City are very strong,” I said.

Uncle Harrier’s face remained stoic and passive, not reacting to the sudden change in topic. “That they are.”

“The Greshans feel their walls will protect them from the threat of humans...yet they still fear mice raiding their granaries, don’t they?”

Finally. Someone was looking at me. Finally came my chance to be a hero in my own way. I was not going to waste it.