Be like water. Fill the shape of the land, carve into it over time, and wash your foes away as needed.

-From Vocationals: 2:9-10

Up in her perch amongst the trees, the neonate wondered if the flooding had swept some of the other hatchlings downstream.

She had seen several of the larger ones heading towards where Tok dropped the daily provisions from up there. All were hulking masses of muscle and bone, but there weren’t enough of them. At least, it seemed like there were far fewer of them now.

Hopefully. Less competition. Her Instinct hissed.

The land they occupied is under water though. It isn’t that much of a boon.

She did like the idea that some were washed away though, less of them to compete against. Making her own survival easier.

Splash!

Right. She traveled towards where she heard the splashes. Several more resonated from the flooded section. Not all at once, but one at a time, with long pauses between.

Not frantic. Not prey. A predator.

Her Instinct was right. It was like an enormous kingfisher diving.

That would be something. She looked down, imagining that she could see the fish below. If only the water was deeper and not as muddy, she might have tried it.

Fishhooks. I can’t afford to be stupid. Her Instinct snarled.

She was about halfway across the flooded area when she heard another splash, much closer this time. Looking around in the water, she eventually spotted another one of the hatchlings and laid low.

She was large, with wide shoulders, and there was a scar across her back. The neonate slowly laid flat as she watched the other female swim. She could see that the other female was chewing on a fish, turning it so it was head first before swallowing it whole.

As the big female pulled herself out of the water onto a rock outcropping she shook the river water off her brownish-green scales. Her arms, legs, and especially tail were all incredibly muscular. Well fed. Dangerous.

Fisher. Her Instinct named the other Greenscale.

Fisher crouched down, slowly turning over stones that were under the water. Her claws shot forward every so often with quick movements, most times coming back to her mouth right after.

Snipbugs. Her Instinct guessed.

Getting quite a few of them too.

Should challenge her territory.

Or injure her to let the infection sink in.

Fisher looked around, sensing someone watching. The neonate slowly closed her eyes most of the way. She thought about being bold, standing up and watching the swimmer in the open. Challenging openly. She had her knife after all.

Bad idea… Her Instinct hissed, sensing something about her.

She watched the other female, laying perfectly still, not overly surprised when Fisher’s gaze slid right over her without stopping.

Fisher didn’t just scan the trees either, but also the water, the bank. She took her time and was methodical like Tok. Eventually the other bigger female turned back to her forage, exposing the scar on her back again. It was old, healed long ago, trailing from left shoulder to right hip.

Fisher must have also figured out the secret of the herbs. That was not the kind of injury you could just recover from without them, which probably would make her a bolder fighter.

It would be a bad idea.

As she scanned for rivals, it was clear that she wasn’t like Ropemaker. She looked everywhere, and probably still suspected that she was being watched. Fisher was also strong, swimming through the currents with ease.

She isn’t a competitor to try and engage with.

She hissed softly, frustrated.

Is there anyone I could take advantage of? She had a suspicion that she was right at the bottom.

Adapt. Innovate. Exploit. Her Instinct hissed, which was good advice, but the motivation was wrong.

She was starting to realize that a better way to pass the trial would be to just wait it out. Once she got shelter and fire, if she made herself too costly of a target, she could easily feed herself by herself for a long time.

Cowardice. Compete!

True, it was like giving up, but a large part of her wasn’t sure she cared anymore. And looking at the apex competetor she wasn’t sure she could compete. All she could think about was that she was cold and wet in the rain and wanted a full belly. She hadn’t been completely full for so long.

I… I want a meal…

Then hunt!

Fisher snatched a few more tidbits from the stones before she stopped, going still. The neonate did as well, observing. Noticing that there was something familiar about Fisher.

Her pattern?

Fisher dove at what looked like nothing to her, but when the other Greenscale surfaced, there was another fish in her jaws. Swimming with the current now, she quickly traveled past, almost going right under the neonate.

Then she recognized. The female that got knocked into the river by the kingbill!

She knew she didn’t want to tangle with her now. Overcame that, she’s got to be strong.

The other female kept swimming, slicing through the water. Away from the pillarwoods to the neonate’s relief.

She waited a bit longer, making sure that Fisher wasn’t going to come back, then climbed the rest of the way to the far bank. Her tongue flickered out, and she smelled a birds nest.

Hunt! Maybe it would pull her out of her funk.

Slowly she crawled up the trunk. Taking as much time as she could. Her tongue flickered out. She could taste the scent of it up there.

Almost…

She pulled herself slowly higher.

Wait. Her Instinct hissed, filling her eyes with its presence.

She could see the birds now.

Two! Could she get two?

Attack!

She sprung!

Feathers filled the air as she snatched both, wobbling as she gripped the tree with only her toe claws.

She could feel them struggling against her as she started to slip! With a hiss of anger she shoved both into her mouth and bit down viciously. Clutching to the tree with her now free hands.

Blood filled her mouth with a crunch. But the death wasn’t slow, and they fluttered and scratched for several moments before she could crunch again and they went still.

She stared down at the five eggs in the nest. Unhatched. Yet to be given a chance. She licked her lips.

One squeaked, a crack forming across it and she paused, startled. Another crack formed.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

A grotesque scaleless pink head burst out. Its eyes were bulbus and shut, and it’s little beak was coated with the membrane of the egg.

A baby chick. She spat out a few feathers onto its hideous face crunching down on its sires as she climbed higher.

Consume!

She loomed over the nest, watching as the other eggs started to hatch as well. She reached up, tearing the parents in half in her jaws. In two more bites they were in her belly. Blood spattered their offspring, which chirped dumbly in alarm. Helpless. Stupid. Weak.

She hissed softly.

A mercy.

Drool dribbled from her mouth. But she paused. Small. Weak.

She growled.

For a good cause. And still she hesitated.

EAT!

The neonate’s mouth opened, drool splattering onto the chick before her teeth snapped shut.

She licked the last of the blood from her muzzle. She wasn’t full, but she was no longer completely ravenous, and though it wasn’t an impressive hunt she felt far less dejected.

I’ll be spitting feathers for a moon cycle. She had been disappointed that the eggs had developed quite so much. She preferred the yolks. Something about eating hatchlings not sitting right with her.

Meat is meat. Tasty crunch. Bones good.

She arrived at the grove, and found it completely different than it was before. The neonate could see that there were several saplings that had been chopped down and stripped. It couldn’t just be Ropemaker, too many had been harvested for that.

Not good. Competition is getting stronger. Her Instinct hissed.

The neonate was starting to understand her Instinct’s argument. Participating in this competition was mandatory. Even if she removed her own active participation, the others would still be competing. Improving. Getting stronger.

Hinder my own progress against foes with all the advantages. Sounds like a death wish.

She hacked at the saplings with her knife, and they fell quickly to its keen edge. She stripped them of bark and branches too before placing them to the side.

I need a new hand ax. She didn’t like how loud the strikes on the trunks were, echoing and signaling her position.

Work faster.

She made sure to keep an ear out for any of the others getting closer, her mind circling back to the requirement to compete. To get stronger, even if it was in her own way. She’d be swept away otherwise.

It’s actually going to be harder with One-eye gone. She realized.

That monster had been a pressure on all of them. Now that she had removed it, there would be a niche to fill. And the bigger hatchlings would have an advantage in filling it.

She needed to think of a more proactive way to compete. An indirect way. A balancing act to be sure.

She looked at the already debarked pillarwood saplings, left there by one of the others. Probably to be collected later. She added them to her own pile. Saving herself from the work of chopping more down. It was a start.

Have to find the others. Make plans against them. Steal food, put out fires, anything to slow them down and bolster me up.

Yes! Her Instinct hissed.

The plan with the herbs would work, but only with the non-apexes. Seeing Fisher had proved as much to her.

She found a broken pine branch, probably blown down by the wind. She pealed the bark, scraping the wood underneath smooth with her blade. She held it up, seeing if it was straight enough, wanting to make a fire kit right away. She could put it in the bag so that she knew it would dry.

She nodded and placed it on her pile. Not finishing it yet. Wanting to wait in case she had to abandon it.

Looking for these would tell me if someone can make fire. And other tools would tell me of the existence of skills I have yet to learn.

And if she could figure out those things, she could also sabotage those processes. She remembered the hulking brutes going to Tok for the free meal.

How do I deal with ones like Slash and Biter?

She took a piece of cordage she had brought along and started tying the wood together, planning to drag it behind her gathering up the bark to make more rope. Round and round the cordage went, just like those two, circling each other.

She felt that golden yellow flash across her body again.

Could lure them together! Make them fight.

Yes!

Would give me more time to watch them, learn how to better my own attacks! She paused, looking at the bundle of poles she now had. Bright light tan and very visible.

Should she make her way back to the log? Now that she looked at the size of the pile, the neonate wasn't sure how she would transport it back. Especially with the island being flooded.

Could look for a proper nest.

It would have to be secluded, but almost central in location, especially if she was to indirectly compete with everyone.

Need to get moving at least. She wondered if there were other hubs of resources on the island. Like here. Perhaps there was a section full of berries? Or maybe certain animals lived in certain places?

Moving out of the clearing, she tried to parse what that meant as far as where she should chose to settle down for real. Her Instinct was frustrated by the thought, so she tried to put it to words.

Some things are everywhere, but others are only available in certain territories. Her eyes widened. Wait, could that be part of the trial?

Survive. That’s all. Her Instinct grumbled, even more confused.

She thought about the whiptails, the herbs, the berries. Each were spread across the island. But then there were things like the pillarwoods. There was only one place that had them in abundance.

There must me other things I have yet to find that would improve my chances. Things that would push the others in other directions as they learned. Building a diversity of apexes.

If that was the case, that meant that exploring the rest of the island was a high priority. She looked at the bundle thoughtfully. She wanted to see, to explore, now.

Her Instinct hissed. Defend the supplies? Or abandon them. It pulled her eyes to where the pile of already cut pillarwoods had been behind her pointedly. Hoard first. Focus. One task at a time.

Right…

She’d things back to her log first, then go explore. She worked hard to gather the supplies after all. She felt proud yellow and smug orange fill her mind. Some of them anyway.

And there is no way they wouldn’t be taken if someone found them. Stealing wasn’t a complicated concept. Any of the others could come to that conclusion.

There is an idea… Her Instinct hissed deviously.

She had already thought of that, stealing from the others, take their resources for herself.

No! Her Instinct hissed. Plant evidence in another’s den.

That… is an amazing idea! Especially with Biter and Slash.

The neonate quickly became a bit frustrated dragging the supplies along, looking back at the pillarwood. Should have waited to peel them. They stood out. It made her nervous, and she grumbled, having already tried to stain them darker with dirt. It had almost worked, but they were still the wrong color.

An idea struck her, and she hurried over and cut several bundles of ferns and bushes with her dagger, piling them on. It looked horrible, but at least it was the right color now.

Good. Learn. Adapt.

She walked along the ground, keeping even lower than usual, letting the uncut foliage hide the wood bundle as best it could. The neonate made sure to also scout ahead periodically. She settled into a pattern of dragging the wood forward, dropping the bundle and checking ahead, then running back to drag them father still.

Her tongue slid out, and she also sniffed the air.

She paused and looked about as her Instinct stirred. She tasted the air again. She could smell many of the others.

Not close, not recent. Her Instinct reported from her nostrils, sliding into her tongue for a second as well.

The scents had become faint and stale. The neonate arrived at the flooded section, which had lowered some. Not significantly, but enough that she thought that she could hunt for a crossing to wade. The scents and smells grew stronger as she traveled along the bank.

Getting closer.

The smells were newer, stronger, but still faint. She recognized the scents of Biter, Slash, Harvester and Ropemaker, along with several others. The first four weren’t very fresh, but it didn’t change that she didn’t like that there were that many using this pathway.

Need to cross before any of them show up again.

The lack of cover made her uneasy, so the neonate moved as quick as she dared across, letting the supplies float as she went, tying the bundle to the rope around her waist with a quick knot.

A rip current yanked at her legs, and the floating bundle jerked and pulled as well. She had to be very deliberate with her steps, facing into the current, almost falling several times. As she staggered and splashed along, she kept a wary eye out for any of the others.

Look up! Her Instinct snarled, and she cursed herself for forgetting again.

She scanned the trees, then the bank, and even the water, though she wasn’t sure what she was looking for in the last medium.

Swell in the water. Learn.

Double checking the water, she was soon satisfied that she was alone. She traveled the rest of the way, having to use her tail often as a counterbalance as she did so.

She sloshed out of the waterway up onto the bank, exhausted. She hefted the wood, eager to get to the log and some easily found grubs.

Need to save some to use with these hooks.

She growled with frustration at the unwieldy weight of the bundle, dragging it out of the water so it would stop pulling at her. Once done she placed it down and sighed, turning to quench her thirst.

The neonate checked again for others before she started washing the grime from her scales as well, hissing in pleasure at finally having the time to groom herself. Her skin pealed again in a satisfying way, her tongue flickering in the air.

The wind shifted, blowing down and across her from up in the trees.

Her eyes widened and her camouflage slammed into place out of reflex alone.

Being watched! Her Instinct snarled.