Learn to utilize everything, then you will be unstoppable.

-From Vocationals: 1:9

Fighting down the nausea as her stomach did more acrobatics in the fresh free-fall, the neonate opened her eyes as wide as she could. She needed a handhold, she needed one!

Where!?

She frantically searched with dilated yellow eyes.

Scouring the darkness.

The ground getting too close too fast!

LIVE! Her Instinct shrieked.

There!

Another branch even farther down was rushing towards her. The ends of it coated with living leaves.

Not dead.

Springy!

Her only hope.

Without a second thought, spiraling her tail in a vain attempt to push herself forward through the air, she reached for it.

It’s gonna hurt! She braced herself.

Thunder crashed as her palms slapped the slick bark, and she dug her claws in. The sudden stop wrenched her body painfully once more.

Pop!

Her shoulder dislocated in a shattering of pain. The neonate barely managed to keep her grip as she dangled from it. Wailing. Unable to stop herself, just as a bolt of lightning split the sky and thunder bellowed against the hatchery island. Rattling her bones. Fortunately enough.

Alive.

The thought matched her gasping snarls as she fought not to whimper in the quiet lull between heavenly strikes.

Survive.

Fighting through the pain, she got her other hand on the branch, claws digging into the bark. She dragged herself up. Panting.

Need to tend. Shoulder. Follow.

With a soft hiss she stood back up. Her Instinct guiding her, the neonate slammed her shoulder against the moss-covered trunk of the tree, biting back a yelp of pain as she popped it back into place. No thunder to cover any sound this time.

Only the endless rain.

The smell of the moss was strong now that she had crushed it resocketing her limb. It smelled… like a plant. Not really standing out outside of it being strong. And it lingered even in the rain. Inspiration blossomed in her mind.

Hide my scent with it!

She didn’t have time to do more than see if she could still move her arm. She could. It hurt but she could.

Tearing some of the moss free the neonate coated herself in the juice of it, crushing it in her hands so that the scent was strong. She glanced down at the male. Checking his progress. Making sure he wasn’t rushing up to attack her.

Ropemaker had stopped and was now inspecting the branch that had fallen down, squashing the low foliage below outside Ropemaker’s clearing. It must have made a noise when it hit the ground.

Or almost hit him. Shame it hadn’t.

Her Instinct grunted.

He looked up, searching for the cause of the branch falling now. Not quite in the right direction. She forced herself to move, to keep going, to be away from where it had fallen. She couldn’t allow herself to be spotted by the larger Greenscale. Moving around the trunk slowly. Hoping for no more lightning.

For once there wasn’t any.

She climbed higher, needing to dig her claws into the bark to keep a grip in the rain. Her shoulder ached horribly, but she had to get a vantage point above the main part of Ropemaker’s nest. Otherwise all the effort would be for nothing.

She almost sighed in relief when she started climbing horizontally again all the same.

Crawling along her belly against the branch, she glanced down several times to check to make sure he had yet to see her. He was looking up more intently now, but back where she had missed her jump, and he didn’t leave the ground.

He walked over to the branch, picking it up, inspecting the end.

Please think it was just because it was dead! Please!

The rain poured down, and she saw him wipe his eyes and shake his head, continuing onwards.

Idiot, he doesn’t think others might have abilities different than his own. Her Instinct scoffed.

I don’t know if that’s the case. But he should have smelled the branch at least. His mistake was her opportunity. Why didn’t he climb this time though?

She noticed something in the next flash of lightning.

His body was the default grass green color that they all were when they were not using their camouflage abilities.

She was certain that she was the best at using the camouflage, but she had not yet seen one of the others not use it at all before. They all did to one degree or another. It was foolish not to. As it was though, he stood out, his green scales the wrong shade to match with the darker and bluer ferns around him. Visible.

He doesn’t want to get into danger…

She was certain of it now. With the increased rain, even she had a hard time climbing up the trunk of one of these trees, and he was heavier than she was. He’d have to leave his captured prey behind as well, which he seemed to be reluctant to do, as he should.

Food isn’t safe from others until it’s eaten.

Also, as bad as his camouflage was down there, up in the trees the only thing that would have made it worse would be if it was bright red.

Perhaps news of the cannibal has spread already? Tok did say he would warn the others.

Her Instinct remained silent.

She refocused her efforts on making her way over, trying her best to stay ahead of Ropemaker, but he too seemed impatient to get back to his nest as well.

Probably wants to eat his catch of the day. She had to pause as he looked back and up again, right under a tiny waterfall caused by one of the leaves of the tree she was in. And get out of this weather.

Now that she was closer to the nest, she had a better view of it, and even with details obscured by the dark of the night and the storm, it was an impressive construction. Woven lines and ropes laced the branches of the tree like a massive spiders web, so that there were corded platforms and other such spaces suspended within the tree.

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She was just about to hop to a branch attached to his nest tree, when she spotted a problem. The rope constructions pulled branches together, forming a shelter out of the living tree. Out of the rain.

If rain can’t get through, I can’t see through.

She would have to be in the shelter to steal any knowledge.

And she could hear him now, his movements less cautious, more comfortable in his territory. She looked down. He was tying his kill to a rope that she hadn’t noticed, and was already scaling the side of his tree.

She couldn’t just stay too far away, she felt that the creation of rope would have some minute details that would require her to be closer to her subject. Nor could she stay out in the rain all night. Not only would it continue to wash away the masking scent of the moss, she could also feel herself cooling down to a dangerous degree.

She looked around, mind racing.

The wind blew, chilling her further. Both her Instinct and forebrain came to the same conclusion at the same time. Her eyes widened as the plan burst into being inside her two-tone mind.

She had to risk it.

She repositioned herself, moving around the tree in the canopy before setting out along one of the branches. She leapt across to a branch of another tree before quietly making her way around the nesting tree. The neonate didn’t get any closer to her destination until the wind was full in her face, just to make absolutely sure he wouldn’t smell her. Once it was and she had hopped onto one of its branches, she slithered along on her belly towards the rope nest itself.

She made herself take her time in spite of the cold and the rain, taking abundant care to remain undetected. She watched Ropemaker make his way up into the tree. Once in his nesting area, he shook the water from his body, and promptly reclined into the hanging mesh of lines that made up his nest.

He pulled up the rope he had tied his kill to, and once he had it in hand he promptly tore into the juicy red meat. Now that it was up off the ground, and most of the mud was washed off by the rain, the creature looked like a large rat. She stared, transfixed, watching as the delectable viscera dripped from his chin, coating his chest and muzzle in pungent gore.

Good. Instinct hissed, though it sounded regretful all the same.

She dragged herself forward, trying to ignore how long it had been since she had eaten her fill, let alone eaten bloody red meat.

Twelve days… Instinct whined within her Thirteen nights…

Such thoughts are unhelpful!

She shoved that urge aside, reaching a point on the branch where she was now underneath some of the canopy. She savored not being in the cold rain for just a moment.

Ropemaker was still tearing into the creature, his muzzle black with blood in the gloom. Good, he’s totally distracted.

He dug into the belly of the beast with a clawed hand and pulled out what looked like the liver, eating that with gusto. She fought not to drool. The guts and stomach had been tossed aside into the river, and she looked at them longingly.

Such waste! Her stomach, forebrain, and Instinct all screamed indignantly. You could wash those out in the river and eat them!

Putting her dejected, righteous, and completely justified rage aside for the moment, she continued to crawl closer. As she went, she pulled up moss and lichen. Not large chunks, but little pieces here and there, crushing it and rubbing the juice against her wet body. Making sure she was still masking her own scent with the faint smell of the moss. The neonate also held onto full pieces, placing them strategically on her body to break up her form. Trying to look like an old knot.

She timed her movements to the moments of dark in-between lightning flashes.

Excellent! Thrive!

Shutting out Instinct’s jubilation at the wonderful plan, she focused on the male, her eyes almost closed once again, moving slowly, feeling a nervous thrill as she felt ropes slide under her.

She was so close now.

So very close.

KRACKA-BOOM!

She almost fell off the branch! There was an incredible flash of lightning that made her look at the far side of the river. Her vision went spotty in the sudden glare, and the world sounding muffled from the incredible crash of the instantaneous thunder.

Damn this storm!

Fool go now! He too is blind and deaf! Instinct screeched, cutting through the silence, unmuffled within her thoughts, and she scrambled as best she could, looking back at Ropemaker.

He too was looking at where the lightning crashed, away from her. She made her way into a little alcove of wood, deep in a shadow, almost next to him. Still acting quickly, she rearranged some of the fragments of moss onto herself. Using her camouflage to match its color and using the plants themselves to match the texture.

She could feel her heart racing as he turned back and his eyes, bright yellow like hers, ran across her.

Calm

She held still, her own eyes open only in the smallest of slits, her face under a mask of the moss.

Scentmoss. Her Instinct named it.

Had he paused looking at her?

Maybe. Should I strike? She couldn’t decide.

Her heart felt like it was trying to crack her own ribs from the inside.

She had to end it, she couldn’t take this!

Kill him!

Yes! Fight! Win! Now! Instinct screamed, sensing the advantage of surprise.

She felt her legs coil beneath her, ready to spring at him in a desperate struggle. She paused, thinking. Remembering the Tikabo.

He is twice my size. Well fed. Uninjured.

Her Instinct gnashed, calling for blood. And the neonate ignored it.

He would kill her easily without even trying. The mission was to gather intelligence, to better equip herself so that she would even have a chance to compete.

Didn’t the Provider also say we weren’t supposed to directly kill each other, anyway?

Her Instinct grumbled at being denied the primal impulse.

She would compete, but it would be only in ways that were in custom. Even if she would be the only one to know.

Her Instinct didn’t answer that, though there was a sense of begrudging acceptance that stained her subconscious.

Ropemaker’s eyes shifted away from her, back to his kill. It was absolutely some kind of large rodent, and he tore into it afresh.

Safe for the moment, and trying to distract herself from the loud sounds of her peer eating, she looked over to where the lightning had struck, her curiosity taking charge. Crimson light danced against dark bark, the tree that had been struck across the river was burning.

If only it had been on this side of the river.

She needed fire to cook the whiptails, to warm herself, and possibly even use it as a weapon against the others.

In the flickering light of the flames she recognized the scute covered back of an alligator, one of many she was sure. That was a skill to hunt for later though, she needed a way to force the male to actually make rope so she could see it done… or something so she could at least guess at the construction.

Deep in the shadows, she took a bit of a chance. She opened her eyes a bit more so that she could see clearly. For a long while, the male simply ate, gorging on meat, making it hard not to drool. She looked around, trying to gather as much information as she could while she was there.

There was a strange pile of plant fibers off to one side, and next to it, handing from some cordage that had been tied to a branch above were several things that looked like a forked stick, dangling slightly in the breeze.

They weren’t very large, not even the length of her own forearm. Each one was well out of the rain, and looking above she could see that the male had made the effort to ensure that.

They hung under a small roof of rushes, lashed together with yet more cordage. It was similar to the general living space, though that relied also on living branches and leaves of the tree itself. She could see another pile of fibers that had been squashed down, and she supposed that was where this male must sleep at night.

Not far away there was a stone resting in a concave depression in one of the limbs of the tree. The edges of the depression were feathered out from repetitive pounding.

Lots of hammering. But of what?

He looked up, his chewing slowing, and she narrowed her eyes to slits, holding her breath, becoming perfectly still.

His tongue flicked out, and he turned slightly.

Calm.

She could feel the pounding of her heart in her chest. Had he smelled her breath? No, the moss was over her whole head, masking the smell of her breath with the plant-smell.

His tongue licked some of the blood from his chin on the back of a hand large enough to grasp her entire skull.

Calm!

She suppressed the need to shiver in fear.

His hand reached towards her.

Freeze! Hold still!

She swallowed. She didn’t want to fight Ropemaker here. He’d just pick her up and throw her out of the tree.

If she was caught, she would die this time.

What gave her hope though was the complete lack of evidence that this male was the monster. The one hunting and killing the others. So it would probably just be another maiming.

Little comfort. It would still kill me.

His hand felt along the bark, near her feet.

He’s feeling for me!

She had to strike now, to attack now! She couldn’t let him get a hold of her.