Life is not simple, either. So often we overlook the obvious, and it is always to our detriment.

-From Canticles: 1:8-9

The neonate spun in place, eyes wide, dropping the bundle of wood and crouching low, peaking just above the underbrush.

Being watched? Where?! She knew what to look for. All of her practice with her own camouflage had trained her to notice every detail of color, memorize every shade around her, every shadow and how they changed the way things looked. But she couldn’t see any incorrect hues.

I can’t be attacked now! She didn’t need someone to see the fireboard she had made. If that secret spread her job would only get more difficult. But where were they?

Idiot! Up! Look! Her Instinct ranted, yanking her gaze up towards the branches, and she snarled in frustration at having forgotten again.

Sweeping the canopy with a practiced eye, she redoubled her efforts to find the threat, drawing her knife. She focused on places where she would hide, shadows, twisted limbs of trees that would hide the shape of a Greenscale, that sort of thing. She wanted to be up in the trees, but she couldn’t leave her resources behind. She wouldn’t let herself.

Mine! Her Instinct snarled.

Search for scent.

Her tongue flickered out, tasting the air, and her grip on the knife tightened as she spun to glare up at a particular branch. Eyes narrowing.

There he is.

A male, large, eyes almost shut, showing he also knew how to properly use camouflage, stood pressed against the bark of a trunk in the shadow of one of the branches. Not the size of an apex competitor like Slash or Biter, but almost five feet tall. More than a foot taller than she was.

The neonate found herself judging him with a critical eye, evaluating his ability with her niche.

Hue is off. Too blue in places, too red in others. It had been his tail that gave him away. He had tried to make it look like a vine, but it was too distinct a shape. Would have been better hidden in a shadow.

Neither thing was anything major, but both were off by just enough that it had registered with her.

Smug orange thoughts filled her mind. I’m better.

Took too long to find him. Her Instinct chided.

Now what though? She didn’t want to fight him, because if they started squabbling, someone else could steal her supplies. She hissed thoughtfully.

Maybe something different.

The neonate glared at him, taking on her own red and black of challenge, staring right into his eyes and growling. Her skin was still sore from overdoing it the night Tok showed her how to make fire.

The night I killed One-eye.

Fight! Kill! Again!

No, not in that way. This rival was still a person, uncorrupted, and he hadn’t tried to attack just yet either.

The neonate pushed against that pain gently, starting with something simple, which fit with her plan. She continued to stare at him openly, ignoring her unease at openly challenging someone instead of trying to hide.

He growled, stepping forward into the light, his pattern shifting to default and showing that there was a design across his chest that always remained. Even when he was matching his surroundings.

Design. Her Instinct named him. Search for that to find him.

He didn’t run, instead hissing back at her, standing, his scales matching her display before they became more complex and intricate. Finer lines, more exacting patterns.

Impressive.

He took another step forward, eyeing her still and snarled, his colors becoming brighter.

Shit. He sees I’m small.

“Leave and I won’t hurt you.” He hissed softly.

Doesn’t want his voice to carry. He was worried that someone bigger would come along. That didn’t matter much to her, everyone was bigger than she was.

Keep bluffing.

She turned her growl into a snarl, increasing the complexity of her own pattern. To her delight, it was just like a sprain, the more she worked the ‘muscle’, the more it limbered up. She stood as tall as she could, making the reds even more vibrant, too vibrant, unnatural in their saturation, and the black she made as dark as a closed mouth, a starless night.

He maintained his own display, making it more complicated in response to hers.

“I said to leave, small one. I will not ask again.” He hopped to a lower branch, flexing, showing her how big he was. But something about his attention caught the neonate’s eye.

She tossed the black knife into her other hand, and saw his eyes following it. She snarled louder, and there was the tiniest flinch, a shift in his pattern.

“Come and take it from me.” She snarled. It was a calculated risk.

Compete! Her Instinct snarled, craving violence, action, not all of this silly display.

I am!

She shifted patterns, compounding them again and again. She could feel the strain as she did so, and still she worked ever harder, pushing against that limit from before, stretching it.

Trying.

To.

Make.

It.

Budge.

She knew she could win this kind of contest. This was her skill. She would die before anyone else claimed it from her.

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The limit she had reached before moved. Her eyes widened and she hissed softly as she pushed herself.

Match this, cocky bastard.

Swooping organic curves and points became unyielding geometric designs. Red and black shapes and patterns shifting along her scales as she felt the tiny muscles undulate under them. Swirling dynamic bursts of vermilion and regimented stygian outlines competing for the dominance of her pattern. Delicate, intricate, and mesmerizing.

Mine!

She took a step forward and let out a sharp snapping roar, planting a foot on the resources possessively. It wasn’t her best roar, but she didn’t want to actually draw attention to them both.

There! She saw it! The faint flicker of brownish yellow and off white, a thin line around the eyes.

Fear… Her Instinct whispered. She felt it snarl.

He knows. Her forebrain exuded grim satisfaction.

She started to play with the pattern, letting a stripe of perfect camouflage run up her body, as wide as her hand. Still continuing to display her shifting and wheeling black and red at the same time. She could feel her body straining, but she knew that none of the others could do this. She had never seen any of them have a moving black and red before, let alone what she was doing now.

And the whole time she stared back into his eyes. It was clear. He knew.

He knew that she could disappear almost anywhere with skills this honed, she could follow him and wait in the shadows for as long as she needed, and then strike. And even if he initiated, she could still disappear and bide her time, get revenge.

Then why not? Her Instinct gnashed, having different ideas and sulking in the angriest memories she had. Kill him! He’ll kill you!

She took another step forward, snarling, hate and rage filling her. She would kill him, she would compete against a larger foe and feel that satisfaction of her success after his blood pooled at her feet. It had been days since she felt that way, felt so alive. She would revel in his death! His weakness! His-

What am I thinking?

She didn’t have time for this. She couldn’t kill Design, not outright. He had yet to attack.

Plus, what do I get out of his death? The answer was, nothing. Sure it was one less competitor, but each death lessened the pressure on all of the Greenscales. And she didn’t want to help the others. It was risking injury or worse, and unlike him she didn’t have the energy reserves to handle that.

Not yet anyway.

Her Instinct growled, her motivations shifting as it accepted the reasoning. Good. Learn.

Luckily she hadn’t dropped her black and red, though it had stabilized into an unmoving pattern. Incredibly complex based on what she could see of her arms.

“Leave. Or I will find your nest. Lead the others to it.” She snarled.

They stood like that staring at each other, each one sizing the other up. The neonate’s eyes narrowed, then widened as the time continued to pass. And he continued to stand there.

Why? What is he doing? She looked him over again.

The neonate spotted an old scar, from the back of his left hand and up his forearm nearly to his elbow. It was only when he wiggled it that she realized he was purposely displaying it.

Another with the knowledge of the herb? Is he showing me that? If he was it was to try and intimidate her. Show her that he knew how to heal, that he would be more reckless in a fight.

Attack! Kill! Should have died. Her Instinct roared.

Should have?

The neonate suddenly recognized him, the memory bobbing to the surface of her mind.

The one who got swallowed.

She remembered Slash cutting into the mawfrog’s belly, where she pointed, and Design had slid out, still alive, joining the attack.

But why show the cut?

She shifted so that her own scars were more visible, including the one from One-eye, the worst one.

She heard him grunt.

She could feel him inspecting herself as well, noting his eyes kept looking at the wood, and then the knife. She gripped it tighter, swiping it in his direction. Nothing fancy. She wanted to be clear that she would defend all of her possessions. She liked the soft deadly sound it made as it cut the air.

Without warning, Design turned and left, his skin fading back to that not quite perfect camouflage as he did.

Chase him! Her Instinct needed it, demanded it.

She snarled, sheathing the knife to free her claws for the climb up. He was showing weakness! First showing his injury like that, then running? He was acting like prey!

Wait…

She paused, watching him run.

Acting like prey?

The neonate felt her suspicion grow. Design looked over his shoulder, just once, slowing before facing forward and speeding back up.

She growled.

It’s a test!

She pulled herself short, glaring at him. He glanced at her a few times, and slowed when he saw she wasn’t giving chase. Design made his way towards the flooded section through the trees, at a slower pace.

It had to be a test. He was evaluating how much control she had over her Instinct.

Could’ve also been trying to tempt me with herb knowledge.

It was a bit galling at first to have her own plan or one quite similar being used against her.

Just shows that it is a good plan. She memorized the direction Design had left in. It might be a feint, but any information was better than none in this case.

Have to know where they all are if I am to carry out any plans.

And it was another person she could assign blame to, if she needed that. The neonate bent to pick up the rope to her wood bundle, the bright red and black patterns on her hand distracting for a moment. She had maintained them without thought longer than she had expected.

Visible! Her Instinct snarled.

She slammed her camouflage back into place, scanning her surroundings with a feeling of paranoia. As she did, she turned, drawing the matte black blade back out, searching everywhere for possible ambush.

Idiot thing to be doing, being as vibrant as ripe berries on the ground, distracted. She didn’t see anything, and made doubly sure of it before she started moving again. Adding climbing up into the canopy to check to her routine.

She didn’t see anything to threaten her, so the neonate continued to the log with a fraction more haste. Worrying about the possessions she had left behind in the log now. I need a place where I won’t have to worry. She couldn’t get anything done otherwise.

Calm. Patience.

They could still be missing.

Then hunt. Fight. Kill.

She wished that the bag didn’t glow or spark in the rain. Then she could carry all of her valuables at all times.

But if someone does steal it, they’ll be easy to find.

Her Instinct grunted.

With that, she took greater care on her way back to the log. Checking the snares along the way, but they were all empty.

Leave them. That is their role. Her Instinct hissed.

If enough time went by and she still hadn’t caught anything, then she would try putting them elsewhere. Her Instinct and stomach grumbled at the lack of food. She would just have to dig for more grubs within the log.

Planned to do that anyway.

When she finally arrived she checked for her possessions, which were exactly where she left them. That eased her worries. There were no new scents, and to the best of her recollection they hadn’t even been disturbed.

The neonate slid all the pealed wood into the log, crawling in after it out of the rain. Once she was inside, she dug into the log to make more space for them, eating any grubs she uncovered along the way. She then began the long process of peeling bark fibers apart. Sitting on inside the log, she used her claws and teeth to separate them into finer and finer strands.

Match what Ropemaker had.

She occasionally dug more at the log, popping a grub or two into her mouth as she went.