This is not cruelty. It is a mercy. The world outside cares not for the weakness of any being, and all of the brood must be strong.

-From Neonatum Provisae: 2:10-12

Where?

The neonate knew it was Bowmaker. Her tongue flickered out all the same. The scent on the arrow confirmed what her Instinct was screaming at her, and she knew the general location based on the angle.

There!

Nearly two hundred yards away, almost completely obscured by the vines and branches of the island. Their eyes met in the moonlight, tinted greenish with the leaves overhead. She could see his hateful stare, even before his face flashed his black and red. Was that a flash of yellow and orange around his eyes?

Glittering gleams. Coming closer in the night! Her eyes bulged.

He’s already shot!

Dodge!

Her thoughts felt sluggish as she slid to a lower branch. So tired.

Thunk!

The second arrow embedded itself right where her shoulder had been.

Gotta move!

The neonate could see Bowmaker leaping forward, closing the distance. He pulled a fresh arrow from his quiver, the fletchings dyed purple with berries.

Why?

Lightning flashed, and she saw the tip glint in the light.

Obsidian!

She bobbed and weaved. Needing to make it hard for him to hit her, finally finding a trunk to hide behind. It must have worked, because she didn’t hear the twang of his bow. The thunk of the arrow.

She heard something else though.

Buzzing through the air.

Bzipzipzip! Thwack!

The little predator howled in pain as a stone hit her still bleeding back. Others missed, shredding the leaves all around her, tatters of them fluttering to the ground. A handful. Fisher.

The pain slowed her for a moment, but a moment was all her enemies needed to catch up.

She glanced over her shoulder, and saw that the lead she had gained had been squandered. Fisher and Axmaker were still chasing. The aquatic apex’s paddlelike tail thwacked Axmaker in the face, knocking her down to a lower branch as they ran.

It was reassuring to see that they were fighting amongst each other as much as they were hunting her.

I could use that to my-

Twang!

Dodge!

She slipped behind the trunk of her tree at the last possible moment, claws tearing into the bark to make the sharp turn.

Thunk!

She felt the vibration of the stone tipped arrow through the wood.

Idiot! Flee!

She couldn’t handle three of them. Not all at once when they all had ranged attacks. An ax cracked into the trunk next to her and she yelped.

How many of those does she have?

She caught a glimpse as she made another tight turn to throw off Bowmaker’s aim. Axmaker reached into what looked like a solid section of trunk, punching straight through a screen of bark and other canopy vegetation into a hole. She pulled out four axes that were lashed together.

What? She scrambled higher to dodge another handful of stones from Fisher.

Her territory. Caches. Her Instinct hissed as she leaped to the next tree, grabbing the trunk and sliding down.

She really should have spotted those sooner. The faintest change in hue, the wrinkled look of the leaves. She had been too busy running though, and there were trees with dead sections in them.

Need to check those later.

Another arrow clattered against some branches of the canopy and spiraled off. Bowmaker was circling to the right.

The neonate gnashed her teeth. She didn’t have time for that!

Remember.

The neonate memorized what the screen of plants had looked like, running along the branch. The others had forced her into an open area of the canopy. Not slowing. Forcing her into Bowmaker’s line of fire. She started to turn left.

More stones zipped through the leaves, followed by a whirling ax. Forcing her to duck and dodge right. She growled, frustration mounting.

Not much of a choice.

Survive!

She hissed in agony as another stone tipped arrow sliced along her tail, close to the base.

Close to her spine.

Fear!

She couldn’t help noticing that whenever there was a lot of brush between her and Bowmaker he used one of the old fire-hardened arrows.

Not wasting his good ammo.

Her Instinct grunted.

There was something else too. She jumped away from another arrow that nearly pierced her foot, having to catch onto a vine and slice it with her knife to swing into the next tree.

He’s driving me. Lesser arrows to guide.

But where though? She tried to imagine where she was right then.

The flooded section? But why?

She heard a snarl and looked back. Fisher was right behind her now, she had one of Axmaker’s axes.

Axmaker snarled, a fresh cut across her chest explaining the stolen ax as she sprinted to close the distance between them both.

Fisher threw the ax at the neonate, and she ducked. Axmaker snarled as she landed on the same branch as Fisher. The ax clattered off of the trunk and she grabbed it, throwing it back at the other two.

They both jumped back, Fisher staggering into Axmaker, even though the neonate’s throw was nowhere near as powerful, the weapon falling short. Axmaker slammed a fist into Fishers gut and hissed, rushing after the neonate as she ran.

She needed to get higher, to get out of reach of the heavier apexes. The neonate vaulted over a gap between trees.

Twang! Thurk!

PAIN!

She howled as a stone tipped arrow sunk into her bicep. Blood poured out around it. She staggered, the pain nearly throwing off her landing. Axmaker was right behind, growling.

Live! Her Instinct screeched. Fight!

Fisher caught up to both her and Axmaker and slashed with her claws, and the neonate barely managed to duck under them. She spun, sweeping the bigger female’s feet out from under her, making her plummet out of the tree.

As the neonate did, she tore along strip of scentmoss from the branch. She hurled the wad into Axmaker’s face, using it to blind her and scrambling away from her falling ax. It sent chips of wood flying as it hit the tree instead. Axmaker hissed, struggling to untangle herself from the moss. It had wrapped several times around her face.

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Run!

The neonate leaped over the side, down to a still lower branch as another arrow whistled by. Bowmaker had circled again, still trying to drive her to the flooded section of the island.

She looked up when she landed, spotting Bowmaker through the canopy. There were too many branches for him to get a good shot.

There was a snarl behind her.

Her head whipped around and she spotted Fisher starting to pull herself up onto the branch.

Without hesitation she kicked the other female in the face, stamping on her fingers and getting a nasty scratch on her calf for her trouble. Fisher fell into a nettle bush below with an agonized howl.

She got to the flooded section, panting, desperate for an escape. Limping, she forced herself to keep going, to not slow down. Snarling through the pain. The injuries were becoming too numerous to count. She couldn’t keep running like this. Frantic, she searched the area for a way to lose her pursuers.

There was something dark under the water. Gray. Square.

What is that?

It was easier to see in the flooded section, the current slowed by all the vegetation, now submerged.

Ruins? Her eyes widened, understanding blooming in her mind.

A wood tipped arrow glanced off her shoulder. Rebuffed by scales but still painful, making her hiss. She staggered and fell to a lower branch. One that had no close neighbors.

“Damnit!” she hissed in pain. Blood spattered onto the bark beneath her feet. There was a roar behind her. Axmaker, coming around a trunk and throwing an ax, chasing after it.

It whirled end over end, there was nowhere to dodge, save the open air.

She dove, snarling in defiance. The ax whistling above her.

I will not die here!

She heard splashing at the shore behind her as she did.

She spotted the fish just before she crashed into the water fleeing something on the bank.

Greenscale snarls.

She knew it was Fisher.

Splash!

The water chilled her horribly, her frame not large enough to keep the agony of the cold at bay. The neonate growled and copied Fisher’s technique. Trusting her innate skill and aquatic specializations.

The little warrior burst above the surface. Finding she could steal a breath with every other stroke of her arms. But any delight at the discovery was dampened completely because she was bleeding in predator infested waters.

Claws brushed her tail and she kicked out, her feet hitting something solid. Tearing. She looked back, and sure enough it was Fisher, a fresh cut along her muzzle.

An arrow sliced through the water between them and the other female pulled up short glaring upwards.

Now!

The neonate dove. Swimming into the submerged grasses and ferns. Her coloration was off, something about the water making it difficult to match the colors. It would have to be good enough for now.

Bleeding. Focus!

Visibility! She had to hide.

She dove to the bottom, using the delay to her advantage and stirring up some mud. She felt Fisher’s claws grab her tail. Pulling hard, tearing in deep.

The bubbles of her snarl blocking her vision, the neonate turned. She pulled out the bloodoak ax, swinging at the other female’s hands.

The river slowed the weapon, but a satisfying spurt of blood clouded the already murky waters. Once again she had missed her mark. A bit lower and she would have claimed a thumb. She was happy with the gash in her opponent’s forearm though. And it made Fisher let go, with a gurgling hiss, which was all she wanted anyway.

She continued to skim along the bottom. An arrow plunked right by her head. An ax crashed through on the other side, making her jerk.

Shit!

Obscure!

The neonate kicked up as much debris as she could, hearing another arrow plunk into the water.

Garbled howls from Fisher, muted but audible.

One of the other two had hit her instead of the neonate.

She swam as fast as she could towards the ruins. Holding her breath and diving through the submerged underbrush.

Need air.

Careful.

She knew she didn’t have time. And it wasn’t just her and Fisher in the water. The blood would attract larger reptiles. Hungry ones.

She had to hide, had to breathe, and the mud would leave a trail for Fisher to follow. The neonate spotted a clump of grass and whiptails that broke the surface.

Good enough.

Swimming into them she lost herself in their waving fronds and reeds. Slowly surfacing with barely a ripple. She looked up, wanting to see where her rivals were above to best avoid the ranged attacks.

The neonate saw Axmaker crash into Bowmaker, two arrows in her thick shoulder snapping with the impact. Both fell, snarling and biting eachother before crashing with a painful slap into the water.

Her tongue flickered out. Her eyes went wide.

Bull croc musk!

She had to leave, now!

She spotted where she wanted to go, and she could see that Fisher’s form was between her and the ruins. The only good part being that it didn’t seem like the other female had spotted her yet.

She submerged just as slowly as she had surfaced, keeping her eyes on the other female, even though she wanted to dive, to rush. The neonate squinted to hide the bright yellow color.

Fisher looked about, snarling, her wound leaving its own trails in the water. The neonate could hear the others thrashing about not far off breaking the surface. Sloshing in the shadows as they tussled.

Drawing attention to the location without knowing it.

Something large rumbled in the water. Claiming territory!

Run!

Not yet!

She had to let the others realize what it was first. Fisher could catch her, cripple her, and then leave her for the crocs to eat. Timing would be crucial so she could get away.

Idiot! Run!

She knew it would be cutting it close, but a chance of escape verses a certainty of being eaten was an easy decision to make. So she fought down the fear even as several other rumblings joined the first.

The arrows in her body dragged in the water painfully.

She heard the tussle between the other two stop. She saw Fisher freeze, still not finding her blended into the reeds through the fog of mud. White and dirty yellow of fear tinted into pale greens and blues.

Come on!

She sped towards the bank.

Almost…

Fisher shot up to the surface, either to catch her breath or to see where the crocs were.

Now!

The neonate shot under Fisher, swimming for all she was worth against the bottom, out of reach.

Fisher snarled, but didn’t even slow.

Fear gripped the neonate’s heart. The crocs are close. She had killed one sure, but there were many of them now, and she wasn’t sure where. Have to get away!

The water was silent except for the sounds of the three apexes fleeing. It didn’t sound like any had gotten caught by the approaching crocodiles.

She couldn’t slow down, she strained against the limits of her exhausted muscles.

Out of the gloom, the shape of the ruin materialized before her. She kicked harder, rushing for it. She slipped inside under a massive waterlogged tree. She glanced behind herself. She could see dark shapes trailing the others.

Safe at last.

She turned to see if she had been correct. The building was like the others, shaped stones, carvings, depictions of what she realized were the gods and parables of her people. She wiped some algae off of one wall. The image of a member of the brood was there, a Greenscale, atop a weird colorful mountain.

Distraction. Temple! Running out of air!

She shook herself out of her curiosity and went back to searching.

Where is the way in-

Crack!

She felt the burst of water behind her, and she panicked, screaming out the last of her air as she spun.

A huge croc, eighteen feet long, had slammed against the tree blocking the doorway, snapping at her. It slammed again with another wash of water. The trunk crackled under the force of the blow. The bull croc rumbled deep in its chest, so large that the sound reverberated within her own.

She had to find the way down.

There had to be a way down!

Frantic, she scraped at the floor, the walls, searching for a pattern, a way in. Her Instinct saw it first.

The slab!

A stone slab on the floor, covering most of it.

Swimming to the bottom she slid her clawed hands under it, planting her feet, blood spurting from her arm as she strained to lift it. The pain was horrible, and the blood made the croc struggle harder against the tree. Large sections of it broke off and sunk in the doorway.

Fight through! Her Instinct was grim in her skin.

She looked into the beasts eyes, baring her own jaws and snarling back as she forced herself to adopt the red and black. Fighting her own pain. Needing to win. She strained against the stone slab, feeling the muscles of her one arm tightening even more painfully around the arrow. Her injured ankle wobbling.

Please!

Earn it! Show me now!

Something shifted. And the slab lifted with a grinding sound.

Please!

She changed her stance, planting her feet more firmly. Her lungs were screaming for air for the second time.

Please oh Gods! Let this be an escape.

Runes in the stones burst into light, startling the croc. It was as if the sun was in the ruin with her! Blazing into the murky water. That didn’t matter. The light answered her prayers. She heaved, flipping the slab and looking down at the stones.

The big bull was not startled for long. It smashed against the log one final time, splintering it into pieces.

She saw it! The pattern. It had to be…

That one!

She pressed the stone.

For a heartbreaking moment nothing happened.

She choked, her body trying to take in a breath that she knew she couldn’t. The croc got into the small space, jaws opened wide! She glared at it and got ready to sell her life dearly.

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… Well done, warrior.

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Brrooom!

The floor opened!

The croc’s jaws snapped down on nothing as she was sucked down another ramp underground.

Down into the dark.

The murky twilight brightened for just a moment as lightning flashed above. The croc’s chin was whacked by the ramp slamming upwards once more.

Darkness.

It was like being back in the egg.

She couldn’t see. She was blind. Wishing her bag hadn’t been overwhelmed by the river.

I need air! I need air!

She choked.

Runes blazed to life at the top of the stairs as she was sucked down, rushing past and illuminating the path the current was taking her.

The neonate was unceremoniously launched into thin air, high above the water. There had been a stairway up, but it was long since broken.

She spat out water and gasped only to scream before she plunged into the pool below, the water hitting her like solid ground. It jarred her bones and chilled her into a stupor.

Everything hurt.

Live!

Pride? Why was she feeling pride?

She kicked to the surface and vomited, spewing out what felt like gallons and gallons of water from her body.

Then it hit her.

She had survived three of the apexes.

She swam to what remained of the pathway and drug herself onto it. Panting.

She had competed and survived.

I need to get food. Her appetite shoved back to the fore of her awareness as she lay there gasping, quickly followed by pain. They jockeyed for position within her mind.

She also needed to figure out how to keep up her competition with the others. Even in one day she had learned so much more about combat and strategy through direct competition that she knew she needed more.

Live!

No, not with the apexes, but with their resources. She couldn’t get caught like that again. And she’d need some time to heal as well.

With that she stood, limping towards her home.

Limping towards food and rest.

She spread her arms to the statues of the gods as she passed them in the center. Bowing her thanks even though she was still bleeding.

The eyes that always watched in this place got closer, then retreated.

She thought she almost heard a grunt.

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“See, I told you she was a good one to pick.” I let some of my smugness show as Maruc glared at me. Sallinnia shook Her head as She left.

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