There is also a requirement to increase the challenge over time. To force the neonates to be the best they can be.

-From Neonatum Provisae: 2:8-9

They made it to the southernmost tip of the island, and the neonate was exhausted. All the climbing, running, and hiding was catching up to her. She still had time to admire the view as they approached, though, and it was a welcome reprieve.

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I looked at Sallinnia, my eyes slowly narrowing. I could sense something wasn’t right as She healed Her nail marks She left in my arm. She looked back innocently. She’s never innocent.

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The Greenscale had never seen this side of the island before. It consisted of earthen cliffs held in place by roots and clinging vines. Even as she watched, a small clump of them broke free only to be held up by their neighbors. It couldn’t be far from Trapmaker’s gauntlet.

She coughed.

Still full of smoke. She coughed again.

She felt the Provider’s crimson eyes turn towards her for a moment. She ignored them.

It is a wonder I didn’t just curl up and sleep. The neonate knew that would be disastrous, but she wanted to. It was like each muscle was bound tight under her scales.

All of the work and energy spent had made her hungrier than she had been for quite some time now. She hoped to steal a catch or two from Trapmaker’s spike pits.

That even looks like his ruin there.

She could see it, a stone structure made squat by the tall flora that surrounded it, up on the earthen cliff. Her eyes narrowed. She looked at the cliff more closely, there was something about the section directly under Trapmaker’s camp that seemed… off.

Straight lines. Something else is buried there. Her eyes spotted the pattern. The odd way the roots and arms of the vines gripped the side.

But she didn’t see a way in. Part of her wanted to investigate, but she wasn’t sure there was even a way in on the surface.

Were they built underground on purpose? Maybe she could ask Tok.

She didn’t get a chance to, though.

The neonate stepped through a loop of vines, coming out of the tangle on the south side of the cypress tree she was in. She spotted someone on an island that was little more than a rocky outcropping.

Fisher. Her yellow eyes met the neonate’s.

Run!

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“Damn it Sallinnia!” I had to dodge my own curse as it bounced around my cell. By the time I caught it and fizzled it Sallinnia was laughing so hard that briny tears leaked from her eyes. “That isn’t fair!”

Life isn’t fair, as you well know. She grinned as we watched the scene unfold.

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She blinked, confused, too tired to register the danger. She picked up her pace all the same. She wondered if she should use her camouflage.

No, the damage is done. And she was so tired she worried that using it might strain something again.

Run! Her Instinct insisted from her knees. Wrenching, pulling, urging to flee. Her weariness started to evaporate.

Fisher doesn't know about her shelter yet surely.

Too smart! Will guess!

Fisher’s head turned back to her island. The neonate did the same, just a quick glance, and she knew. The destruction was complete. Any pride that the neonate felt left as she realized exactly what conclusion she would jump to if their roles were reversed.

Run!

Snarling to herself, she started sprinting. Below, Fisher snarled back, leaping into the roaring river fore-claws first. The neonate reached a long straight branch and she glanced over her shoulder at the other female, still sprinting.

Even swimming against the current she sliced through the water like a blade.

So fast.

Be faster!

The Provider grunted as the two hatchlings began to compete, slowing his limping gait to give them the space to do so.

She wanted to snarl at the Provider.

His duty.

Instead, she snarled at Fisher for cutting the quiet moment short. Snapping her jaws in fury, parts of her simplified black and red flickering across her skin.

Of course I get caught out when I am tired.

Faster!

Lightning spiderwebbed across the sky.

The little warrior’s limbs were screaming for a break, and her wounds still needed treatment. She could smell her blood and that of the Provider on her, even though most had been washed away by the rain.

Moss!

No time!

She looked down and saw that in spite of everything, Fisher was gaining!

Her technique was completely different from what the neonate’s Instinct had told her to do. Arm over arm, legs kicking vertically in the water, her tail lashing.

Something caught the neonate’s foot, and she staggered towards the edge.

Shit!

A knot in the branch!

She caught herself on a vine to keep from flying into the water again. The neonate shook her head and powered forward zagging back to the middle of the bough.

She pushed even harder needing speed, needing to get to dry land. Her muscles howled in protest as she strained her body well past her limit.

All her efforts were futile. She gasped for air, losing ground. The little warrior looked at the vine covered cliff.

Compete! Her Instinct snarled, irate that she would have the gall to condone such heretical thoughts.

The little warrior rallied, pulling herself out of the gloom in her mind. It will be decided by the ascent. She just had to get there first.

She could lose Fisher in Trapmaker’s territory. And he’d be weakened now from the herb. He had already been a prime target for being made into a resource before but now… Her eyes went wide. That’s it! But first, I need to buy some time.

She stared at the plant life up ahead. Estimating distances.

Danger!

She could see that she was not going to get to the cliff-side in time. Fisher would catch her.

No! Climb! Don’t!

I can’t just survive. The neonate changed direction, heading down a smaller branch off of the main one, still thinking of the Provider’s fight. I need to thrive!

Dragging her screaming Instinct along for the ride she pulled the matte black blade from its sheath. She leaped off the side of the branch just as Fisher pulled herself out of the water.

Weightlessness.

The world pulled her down once more, towards the waves, the wind whistling past her.

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She knew she needed to gradually change direction, remembering the pain of when she had dislocated her shoulder. Got to time this just right!

She heard the Provider shift behind her.

No time, focus.

Survive!

Below, not seeing her quarry, Fisher looked around. Just in time to see the neonate grab a loop of vine and cut through the middle. The slick vine nearly slipped out of her claws. She gripped tighter, her sense of weight returning with a lurch as she swung in an arc.

She hissed in pain, but this time her arm stayed in its socket. Curling her legs and kicking forward to add to the momentum before letting go again. It was almost fifty feet to the cliff-side.

Live.

She flew through the air as lightning split the sky with a deafening bang. It struck the tree she would have entered if she had kept going along her current path, and it burst into flames.

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Sallinnia pulled her fist out of the dent she made in my cell. Resourceful child. I kept my smirk hidden inside. At least until Maruc showed up, growling about missing the beginning.

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The little warrior didn’t look at it. She didn’t look at Fisher. She didn’t think.

Even her curiosity doused by her one need.

All she cared about was catching the roots that hung over the side of the cliff.

She slid the matte black blade away. Adrenaline pounded in her skull. She was sick and hungry. She shut her brain down. Willingly this time. She couldn’t afford the doubts. She stretched her hands and feet forward. Ten fingers and six toes spread wide.

There.

I see it.

She grabbed. It held, then tore away!

With a snarl she leaped upwards and snatched again, grabbing a bigger root. And this time it held.

Gasping, she looked down, seeing she had little time to rest. Fisher was already halfway to her and closing in. Her belly was a cavern, a yawning hole full of nothing but air, but she soon lost awareness of it in the stress of the moment.

The neonate forced herself forward, snarling as she pulled herself higher and higher.

I better be right!

Her Instinct grunted, otherwise remaining silent. It filled her limbs and joined her struggle in keeping them moving.

She crested the side of the cliff. She jumped as Tok’s massive hand slapped down not even ten yards away. He felt the ground, only pulling himself up once his hand was on a path of the shaped rune carved stones.

Because of his weight! She realized.

Distraction! Run! She could hear Fisher not far behind her now.

She pelted northeast, towards Trapmaker’s shelter. She saw Tok head northwest, leaving her to her fate with her rivals.

She shifted, making the camouflage as detailed as she could, desperately looking for Trapmaker.

Where? Where?

She bent down and scooped up some mud, smearing it over the red handle of her ax and her knife’s black scabbard.

Fisher crested the edge, hissing loudly. She could almost feel the bigger female following her tracks. She didn’t look back, she just needed to avoid being spot-

A stone zipped right past her face, buzzing like an angry hornet. She ducked low, getting behind a tree, nearly slipping into a hidden pit. Several more stones, different from how Biter had used them. A handful at a time, buzzed through the air.

Guesses.

But they were close ones.

She hurried deeper in. Using her prior knowledge to avoid the traps. She felt yellow pride as she heard a crash and Fisher curse. Now all she needed was Trapmaker…

There!

The idiot Trapmaker was laying sprawled on his back, looking at his hands in a dreamy stupor.

Good!

She rushed away from him, now making as much noise as she could, adopting his simplistic red and black. She broke branches, sprung traps, making as much of a racket as she could manage.

Please be right!

She heard it then. Another snarl. Whirling death!

She hit the ground and hissed as the ax sailed through the air where she had been. The handle hit Fisher with a dull whack and spun up and away into the brush. Unfortunately it hadn’t been the smoothed head or the chard point of the haft.

Axmaker! Her red and black emphasizing her wide shoulders. Red dark as long dried blood.

She ditched Trapmaker’s pattern and leaped up onto a trunk and scrambled up. Fisher’s red and black covered her, swirling patterns reminiscent of waves and fish. Her hues were tinted slightly purple. She lunged towards the neonate, but an ax appeared with a loud thunk between them.

Axmaker charged like a whirlwind, an ax in each hand. The neonate had to leap off of the trunk of the tree and Fisher glided backwards out of reach. Both hissing loudly. Both shot a glare at each other.

Axmaker swung her elbow back at the neonate, lashing out at Fisher with her other ax. Hard bone cracked against the smallest female’s head. Stars burst in the neonate’s vision as she staggered from the blow.

Fisher swept upwards with her powerful tail, knocking the weapon aside. It hummed, spinning into the brush, out of Axmaker’s hand.

I can’t be a part of this! I need to leave!

The neonate turned to run.

She choked as the stone beard of the other ax caught her by the neck and pulled.

No!

She couldn’t fight the superior strength of the bulky Axmaker, but she had to try. Gnashing, the neonate shoved her hands between it and her throat at the last moment, stopping it from really digging in and tearing a bloody rent into her esophagus.

Axmaker pulled with all her strength, bending at the hips. Dragging the neonate over her back with the axe.

Then the world inverted several times for the neonate.

She was in the air.

Yelping.

She collided into Fisher, the pair of them collapsing into a heap.

Axmaker shifted and drew a fresh ax from her belt with her off-hand, growling.

Fight! Her Instinct snarled, white and dirty yellow fear suppressed by the need to survive.

The neonate tried to stand, to get on top, but Fisher’s claws sunk into the neonate’s back, and the little female could only scream as she was squeezed. Tighter and tighter. The tall female’s breath reeked just like the snake-necked beast. The neonate’s eyes bulged as the breath was forced out of her. Whining in pain as blood seeped from her back.

Fight!

I need to run! She ground her teeth. That was wrong.

In it now! Fight!

She needed a plan! But her arms were pinned, her legs too. She needed to attack. A vicious surprise. A proven technique.

Her eyes widened.

Biter!

Snap!

Fisher howled in pain as the neonate’s jaws bit into her chin. The neonate felt the jawbone grinding on her teeth.

Never give up!

Never! Her Instinct agreed from her teeth, shielding her from the pain of one of them chipping.

Still howling, blood pouring around her fresh wound, the female apex stood. She lifted the neonate easily and slammed her onto the ground. The neonate bit harder and held on, but was slammed again, and again. The third time something hard on the ground rammed into her already bloody back and it knocked her loose. The pain in her spine making her arch backwards.

She laid there, dazed. The taste of blood rich in her mouth.

More.

Fisher’s powerful swimming leg lifted, her black claws glinting in the lightning. Her snarl was interrupted by the thunder.

She’d crush the neonate’s sternum!

Pierce her lungs with the toe claws!

No! I will live!

Her hands went to her weapons.

Axmaker’s foot stamped down onto the little neonate’s abdomen.

So heavy! Dense with muscle!

She retched with the violence of it, but there was nothing to bring up.

Axmaker didn’t notice, ramming her head into Fisher’s gut the pair sailing away from her as they continued the squabble. She curled around herself, weak with pain and over exertion.

No! She bared her teeth.

Fight!

Win.

There was no weakness.

Black blade, red ax, in her hands.

Just furious rage.

Yes.

Flash and Crack!

Lightning and thunder in the swirling storm.

The neonate leaped onto the back of Axmaker, bellowing even as the Axmaker stumbled at the surprise weight.

Axmaker writhed under her, and she sank her toe claws in to try and stay on, disrupting her defense. Fisher’s claws slashed into Axmaker’s face, stepping within reach of the neonate.

Snarling, she stabbed at Fisher’s shoulder, turning it into a slash with the tip as Fisher stepped back. Leaving a bloody gash.

“Fuck off Runt!” Axmaker snarled, still trying to shake the neonate free, dropping an ax and grabbing the smaller female’s ankle.

Fury!

Snarling, she lifted her free foot and tore more furrows into Axmaker’s face for that derogatory statement. Axmaker yelped in pain. Hissing her hand tightened on the neonate’s ankle, throwing her again.

But this time, she was ready! Twisting her body she spun in midair. She landed feet first against the tree, springing off.

Kill!

She couldn’t resist the impulse, not now.

Fisher’s muscular tail smacked the neonate into the mud, ducking under a thrown ax. She spiraled into a kick at Axmaker.

The neonate’s snarl bubbled through the anaerobic breeding ground.

Maim!

She swung the bloodoak ax from the ground. The head missed, going too far to connect. The haft cracked against Fisher’s shin and she stumbled, yowling.

Axmaker had dodged back, buying the neonate time. She stabbed with her knife at Fisher. Snarling, feeling the pattern of her red and black shifting.

Fisher jumped back from the obsidian sharp blade, hissing. Flat tail lashing.

I could run. Both were far enough away from her now. Her pattern shifted more. Becoming more complex.

Fight.

In a moment of confusion, Axmaker charged her. Grabbing with piercing claws and lifting an ax high.

Kill! Her Instinct snarled.

No! The challenge! I can win! She had fought worse, been challenged by worse! She just couldn’t kill them.

The ax fell. Veins swelled under the scales of Axmaker’s arm. The neonate couldn’t stop that strike with a block. It’d just blow through.

How? Axmaker would take her arm off at the clavicle if she couldn’t.

Learn!

Axmaker! Her own technique!

The neonate dropped her own ax. Her hand shooting up as the weapon splattered into the mud. Catching Axmaker’s elbow. Arm locked. She thought she felt herself sink into the mud as she caught the blow before it could land.

The smallest female’s wrist shrieked with agony she had to ignore.

The neonate’s eyes shot to Fisher. The aquatic apex was sprinting towards them both. One arm winding. Her claws splayed.

Rely on fear! She remembered how Biter maneuvered Slash. Axmaker snarled, but the neonate snapped at her twice-cut bleeding face.

The stocky female staggered away, and the neonate used the opportunity to grab one of Axmaker’s axes. She fell, tripping over a stump and landing in a heap. The neonate hurled the stolen ax at Fisher.

A fatal flaw with carrying so many axes at once.

It spiraled end over end. Fisher had to duck under it and slid in the mud as well.

The neonate was exhausted. Gasping. Her fingers trembled with it. And she had even more wounds to deal with. A tooth to regrow.

The rain cooled her fury. The need for preservation replacing it.

Pushing my luck!

Survive.

Something about that decision rankled, but she knew that it was the right one.

Snatching her ax out of the mud she rushed up the nearest tree, taking the opportunity to take two of Axmaker’s as she went, sliding them into the same loop as hers.

She heard the stout female snarl, and the neonate cut loose with her camouflage. With aching body she sprinted through the trees, grabbing moss along the way, scrubbing with it when she could.

She could hear them squabbling in the lower branches behind her. She didn’t look back, turning sharply to the right and trying to break line of sight. Her camouflage was becoming sluggish with the lack of energy she had.

That’s fine, I should focus on the moss anyway.

Gleaming yellow pride washed into her from her Instinct.

They couldn’t keep up. They weighed too much to be as daring as she was in the canopy. She was heading northeast. She planned to head back, to slide into the ramp of the Axmaker Entrance.

Thud!

A fire hardened arrow nearly pierced her hand as she was pulling up more moss.

“Fuck!” she hissed before she could stop herself.

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Not enough. I demand more of you, last daughter.

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