Prey, Predator, and the Big Tree
Karra
She was running.
Maybe in circles, or in a straight line. Somewhere beyond her, her mother would be pacing too, and the ground beneath her hooves would be shifting and turning as Karra’s did whenever the nervousness took her.
Laarsh be blessed, she whispered, tell my mother I am well.
She tripped mid-step and went down. Another rock stood in her path to the ground, and it slashed a second cut onto her leg as she tumbled over, but the pain was all muted under the fog in her mind. It was an electrifying fog. All the lightning within must’ve gone to her muscles, for she couldn’t remember ever running this fast.
But she was running nowhere.
Everything looked the same, the distant trees, grass, and sky all meshed together in a dark shadow. Under the moonlight, she could differentiate nearby rock from grass, but nothing definitive that could lead her home, nothing that could deliver her cozy in the warm campfires and her mother’s arms.
She should never have left. She should’ve just sat in her tent, like the others told her to. It would've been safe there.
And just by thinking about it, her body shivered, even if the night chill had not yet penetrated her fur. It was a shiver beyond temperature. Something else doing it, the somethings from tales told around a cooking fire, the somethings with sharp teeth and a hunger for naughty bovine girls.
And then panic found a seat in her and started settling in.
All her people had it. The brane, they named it. A curse from her ancestors of old, when they had nothing to fight off a predator but raw instinct. A prey’s response. It arrived, and it arrived overwhelming: the thundering heart that pumped blood to the coiled muscles ready to spring and the rapid breathing and the dilated eyes and –
“Hush, darling.”
Her mother’s voice.
“Look around you. Focus on what you can do. That is how you tame it. The brane. We all must conquer it sometime.”
Her breathing slowed as she repeated those words in her head, then again with the soothing tone she drifted to sleep to every night. The music of her dreams. She felt her mother holding her up, like the pillars in human buildings, lifting her above the water.
“Look around you. Focus on what you can do. That is how you tame it. The brane. We all must conquer it sometime.”
“Yes, Mother.”
So, she did.
Around her was lush grass, and above her were the stars. Her eyes took in the blades of grass on the ground… and she kicked a clump away. Nothing here, Mother. But then she looked up at the night sky, at the twinkling patterns that gave it darkness, and remembered something. Ah, right, the constellations!
The Merlion’s tail always pointed north. That would work.
Now she had a path back home. And as that thought filtered through her, her muscles uncoiled, the lightning within them fizzling out. Her heart returned to sensibility. Her hooves clopped against the ground as she began to move, following the Merlion's tail. Nothing, not even daydreams, could turn her eyes from those stars.
Those lights leading back to Mother.
Mother would be angry, no doubt. Maybe she would even get grounded, but that was fine – that was more time she got to daydream, and less time outside with the others. A win-win, really. She took every breath with a side of dreams, nowadays.
Yeah, it would be fine. She even started humming to announce her mood, and now that the snug hope wrapped around her and reminded her of grassmilk and the chatter around a campfire, she began to smile, too.
And then something made her halt in her tracks.
It was a something that had ripped the Merlion from her vision. Her eyebrows knotted together. That didn’t… happen on the regular, did it? And so, her eyes cast around for the other constellations, finding most of them hidden too, and that certainly didn’t happen on the regular either.
There were only two stars now.
They glinted and twitched at her slightest movement, and once she realized what they were, there was a split second where every evolutionary reflex within her triggered all at once. All her ancestors were screaming at her. The fog charged up with lightning and struck her limbs.
Ah. I better run.
She let the brane take her.
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Rosemary
Before the sleeping figure, Rosemary set a glass of freshwater and a branch of thyme.
Her hands itched to brush the leaves from his eyes. If he didn’t wake up from that, she would leap into those dreams herself and tuck him away, so even asleep he would still be safe. She would build walls five dryads thick. They would face out in every direction, all four and up and down, so nothing could peek in and try their tricks on him without her to banish them away.
But he didn’t wake up. All he did was dream, and hold onto Andura’s ring.
He had yet to let go of it.
Oh, Lepius. He didn't deserve this, not the strange voice in his head, nor this life, and she didn't deserve him. How warm and overfull she was now with the mana of her new grove, the leaves lush atop her head, her eyes glowing, the bark hard yet flexible and springy. She felt like a sapling. And with that, those words came upon her, and she wanted to say it a thousand times and more: “Thank you, my brave sapling.”
But with the warmth came something chasing it.
Ghosts.
Here she was, glowing, and there they were, rotting. She could not save her family. Little Dura… sweet Pellen… loud Manon… surely it was fine for her to weep now, when Lepius couldn't see her?
Before she knew it, she found herself at the stream outside the grove, and the world was awash with her tears. And every one of them had a name: Andura, Pellen, Manon. They fell into the current, and she thought it fitting, for the stream carried them far away beyond her reach, along with a million other tears, and every single one was a name too.
The thought made her cry more. She had failed. Failed as a tender, failed as a protector.
She wiped her eyes. They were not real tears, she knew. She was a spirit, after all – a manifestation of mana perfected by some ancient dryad magic.
But how she wished they would be.
She brushed them all away. When Lepius awoke she had to be Rosemary, Rose, something for him to hold onto on cold nights faraway, someone to come home to. And so she would cry it all out. All of the strange mana fluttering around her, mana that made her cry and punch the ground and want to flee into the darkness to leave this all behind.
She gave it all to the stream.
The moon was her witness. When she collected herself, the grass under her back was cold, and there were stars above her, noble and looking down with apathy, and never had they changed since she had arrived in this world. She wanted to shine like them. Unmoving, dependable, untouchable.
She got up and dusted herself off. Her hands moved fast: she wiped her tears, smoothened her hair, patted her cheeks. I hope I am stronger now. She started towards the grove.
Then she heard screaming.
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Karra
Karra was vaguely aware of the sounds she was making.
She shouldn’t have been making them under any circumstance, and that was one of the first lessons the elders had taught her: "Run, be quiet, make yourself small."
But there it was behind her. The literal face of death, and it was gaining on her, so she would scream, only to vocalize the animal inside her, else it would consume her entirely and she would end up huddling in a small, tasty, bite-sized snack.
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Then she would die, just like the naughty calves in those stories.
The thought of her death brought tears to her eyes, not for her, but for her mother, weeping and heartbroken she would be. Curses, she berated herself, that was the second lesson! Never cry, it makes your running harder.
Before, she could just make out the foliage ahead of her, separating the low hanging branch from trunk. Now everything was blurry. One branch appeared out of nowhere and whacked her in the torso.
It was at this point she realized she had barged her way into the forest.
She’d failed all three lessons.
The monster accelerated. It gouged its claws into trunks, tensed its arms, and propelled its body forwards using the tree as a spring. Everything was fluid, done a thousand times before. The breathing behind her rose in volume and tempo, ascending to an apex where the claws were just within reach. She was whispering her final words. Nature decreed how this chase would end, and both prey and predator knew it.
Then, something broke nature.
At first, she thought it was her tears and daydreams, and the frenzy of the brane had snapped her vision. Because there was no way what she was looking at was a tree.
The bottom was clearly the foundation, but it was monstrously huge and sprawling, roots as thick as her waist snaking about, all leading to the trunk in the center. Small fireflies were dancing around it, as if to pay tribute. They gathered from the base to the very top of the tree, and from their flickers they announced the tree’s structure.
The tree curved.
It curved upwards and sideways like no one’s business. It was almost dangerous, how much it curved, but it always managed to retain that element of stability, never straying too far, never risking anything beyond the center of its mass. The mass that stood three treetops high. Reflecting the fireflies’ light was water flowing down the trunk, and that hammered the nail in further: tap, tap, this is not a normal tree.
The sight likewise halted the monster behind her. It almost seemed in pain.
Then someone started running towards them - a graceful thing, humanoid, with skin of bark and with bright green hair.
She didn't look happy.
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Rosemary
Her foot ground the pebble underneath to dust.
This was a new start, and here it came: a test. She was no flighty thing like this morning, wielding her spires of oak with nothing but emotion to send them in every direction. She would do better.
Besides, she had gotten a new physical body.
Rosemary had been itching to test it out, and it was a silly thing, but Lepius had indulged her. When he had done his strange dryad magics, down to his father’s every command, the tree he selected grew and grew into what stood before her now.
What she wanted.
A tall, strong tree. Curvy, with a base to give her strength. And so that was the form she took now, a far cry to the stumpiness the old grove. She felt… amazed, and a little curious. Maybe a smidge of awkwardness in this new body, with these long limbs so easy to bump into things. But there was a bit of relief too, for while much of her had changed, her eyes still remained the same, and it felt right leave Lepius something of the past.
The rest of her was grown, rebuilt taller amongst the ashes.
Now, she felt like a proper dryad, someone people could look in the eye without bending over, someone to greet guests at the door. A graceful one, like Andura.
Except that now, there were no guests, only intruders.
She felt the mana at her fingertips, ready to be called. Her home was under attack, and she couldn't do a thing about it before, but she had learnt from the experience, hadn't she? Her mana certainly did. It's pulses were louder and longer, despite the fact that she had been broken by those mages. Like the hardening of steel.
It called for her too, and she raised an arm to receive it.
I must prove that I can protect this home.
That thought brought the mana swelling inside her to overflowing, and she now knew better than ever what her mana was. It was that special place all living beings yearned for when hungry and cold. It was never anything but warm. It was what she was born for.
It was home.
And these intruders would come in, and think of destroying it right in front of her, just like the ones before had? How silly of them. She narrowed her eyes, and the grove shifted towards her, its tender and master.
That will not happen again. Not as long as I stand. I am strongest here, at home.
Her eyes shone to polished copper as the grove and its tender answered the call. Far below, the roots stirred, and far above the clouds parted as the wind paid tribute to the moon so it could gaze upon the sight and bathe the tender in its blessing of silver. Rosemary shone like a star, every star she had ever seen, and the forest assumed its silence to watch.
A female voice broke it. “Help!”
The smaller intruder blundered towards her. For a female, she reminded Rosemary of a brick: stocky and heavy. And as she ripped up the grass with her hooves it was clear she was no human, but a cow-like species, one that had once passed by the village to trade. She knew them: bovines. They were meek, frightened by everything, and years ago, she had even seen one shy away from a newborn sapling, as if it could lash out with a forked tongue.
This one was prey.
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Karra
She bounded forward, legs pumping against the will of her flesh. Her beath came in short rasps as she caught sight of the glowing being – the tall girl.
Karra was not Karra. She could not remember her name, her life, or that she might've just witnessed the most beautiful thing in her entire life. The words that had to be spoken came out in a jumble.
“Help! Please! It’s trying to eat me! Help!”
The Stalkerwolf tore up the grass behind her, and she screamed.
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Rosemary
The beast bounded forwards, eyes unmoving from the girl.
It was so much more monstrous than before the fireflies’ light gave it form, but at least she was able to see it clearly now.
A thick green pelt coated the lean body of a predator, which was balanced upon two clawed feet, and then stacked upon that were the legs corded with muscle. Thick veins struggled against its fur. The snarling face of a wolf greeted her, framed by a circular mane of brown and green.
It reached out claws, five little daggers on each paw.
She grinned as the mana gathered in her hands. Here were her own claws. This was no intelligent mage or ruthless soldier, and perhaps this was her first test, to see if she was worthy of the grove she tended.
If so, maybe I won’t have to say goodbye anymore.
Her hands glowed, and she made a fist.
Once I get stronger.
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??!!!?
He was hungry. Hungry, HuNGrY.
Cow. Cow-flesh was ever so sweet, and this one was plump with youth. Saliva poured from his maw.
He reached out, feeling the wisps of its hair toy with his claws.
Blood splattered.
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Rosemary
The beast’s legs heaved it forward in bursts, but that made it predictable. It fixed such singular focus on the girl - huffing, screaming, and getting closer to her – that it almost paid her no heed.
Her job was simple.
She formed a spike of oak in the shape of her fist, and shouted to the bovine, “Duck!”
The bovine kept running ahead, and Rosemary almost willed the spike away, but then she tripped on a rock. Down she went. Arrested by the momentum, the beast tumbled over his prey, and the spike shot through its chest and out the other side, the tip glittering with blue blood.
It snapped its jaws, then broke off the spire with a claw and collapsed to its knees.
Was… was it dead?
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He touched the blood on his chest.
The howl clambered up his throat, but the hunter in him forced it down. Silent. He was no squealing prey, no, he was a shadow.
But shadows didn’t like light.
He gazed up at that shining thing, then clawed at his eyes, hissing. Hurt, hurt, hurt. But it was moonlight, or curse light, things pale in comparison to the light that kept him trapped in his caves.
Trapped, as the sky above turned blue, freed when it turned back to black.
He squinted his eyes open. No, it didn't pain him, not as much as that radiant thing that made the sky blue. Not the Light. He waited for his eyes to constrict, snarling silently as the searing ebbed away to reveal… more prey.
This one was slimmer. It didn’t look very tasty, without much flesh on the bone, but he wasn’t going to pass up on more food. He was hungry. And he would take his chances, even if this prey was glowing with the… the curse.
This prey knew how to use the curse. The curse that shined.
Prey? No. No. Enemy. Kill.
He flicked off the blue blood and readied his claws.
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Rosemary
The beast snarled without making a sound.
After it got up to its feet, it glared at her, then crouched low and circled her in a narrow arc. As it did, the spike shifted and gouged out flesh, but there wasn't any point at which it slowed down in discomfort or pain.
Did it even feel such?
It leapt at her faster than a gust of wind, but she was faster. She vanished in a puff, reappearing on a branch two treetops atop him.
Her brain stuttered, and she froze for a moment. Her eyes darted to the bovine. When she saw the female, cowering and curled up in that little ball, her brain returned to function.
The bovine had not seen her use spirit magic. Eldertrees, that was close.
A growl drew her eyes back down. The beast swiveled its head sideways, then backwards, claws clenching for the prey it had lost. But wasn’t there another? A little rasp of laughter escaped it as it ambled towards the bovine female, who was still curled up on the ground.
Its gait was swaggering, almost arrogant.
How foolish.
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!!??!!
The Stalkerwolf grinned.
Whatever it was, the slimmer prey that knew how to use the curse had escaped. It did ruffle his fur, but the cow was still here. Under the light of the fireflies, he could see those juicy thighs, the plumpness that would serve his palate well.
As he took one final step forward, he heard something. It was like the wind forced through the gap between two trees.
He looked up.
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Rosemary
It looked up too late.
The upper part of the trunk hurtled down in a spiral from its original position, and the spire in the beast’s flesh made it just a second more sluggish. A second was all she needed. She chopped her arm down like an executioner’s axe. Fireflies scattered. The trunk scattered mist across the battleground.
And finally, wood met the ground. The sleeping birds scattered from their nests in the trees as they rattled and shook from the impact.
When she raised the trunk back to its standing position, there was only a smear of red on the floor. Stalkerwolf paste. Before her beating heart slowed, Rosemary pumped a fist.
Home defended. Invaders cleared.
She had accomplished her mission.
But then something probed her, and what was her mana trying to tell her - ah, yes. There was someone who needed a home. Just a temporary one, but she finally had a guest.
Rosemary hopped down the tree and made for the shaking female. The poor thing looked like she had just emerged from a nightmare: wide, red eyes, a leaking nose and a fine sheen of sweat all over her face. A face with... fur. And now that she was closer, she could tell that despite the fur, all those dimensions were similar to human, if only with eyes that faced to the side and a rather flat nose. Below her face, her black hair fell to her shoulders, and below that, a coat of beige and white fur covered up her body.
Oh, and she had horns.
She reached out to touch them, unable to resist, and the bovine looked up with those wide, round eyes. Rosemary tensed up when their eyes met. What did she see? A killer? Another predator? Maybe she would scamper away, unable to look at her as a friend or savior, the unnatural spirit she was.
She never got to find out.
The door to the grove opened, and Lepius stumbled out, rubbing his head. There was a small bump there, no doubt when the grove twisted every which way to smack down the monster, and she could imagine him waking abruptly and flying across the room.
Rosemary’s cheeks were aflame, and she had to cover her mouth with a hand. He took one glance at the bloody mess on the floor and the trembling animal in her arms.
Then, he went back inside.
“I’ll get the thyme.”