《Fawn's Veil》


 Chapter 1: The Girl

    The Girl


    The ground was burnt, hardened, soaked in hatred, and scattered with fine crystal shards that spilled blood from foolish skin.


    Why this planet? she thought.


    Digging her toes in against the wind, her little feet struggled to resist the hostility of the red ground beneath her. She lifted her hands to shield her aberrant eyes from the burning dust and gazed out over the Village.


    Fawn often found herself trying to imagine what desperation had forced the settlers to stop here, so very long ago.


    Tutors of her primary learning taught her that some pilgrims had brought with them the Godsless technology of past humanity. Her people knew that mass technological freedom had caused the failure of ancient civilization.


    As she wandered along, following inside the crude, colossal Village perimeter fence, she let herself take a moment to observe those close by. It was easy for her mind to drift, just as her feet did.


    The civilian villagers all bore layers of dry dust on their drab clothing and skin. They were swarthy from the harsh nature of the dark red star: the pitiless celestial was responsible for unyielding heat and a faded crimson light.


    Almost all the people stayed in the shade at every opportunity. Their whole Village was designed accordingly.


    Occasionally, Fawn¡¯s attention would stray from the villagers to the strangely dressed Soldiers that stood like menacing specters in various locations. They wore a uniform garb, fundamentally different from the surrounding people.


    The cloth was light-absorbent black in its entirety, silken in nature, and defiant in its glory. It provided resistance to any accumulating dust.


    Having been made to fit perfectly, their outfit had the unusual feature of appearing seamless. It even encompassed their hands in gloves, as well as feet in shoes of a sort, fitted with an additional sole that allowed grip on any surface short of total verticality. The Soldiers appeared as though they were sewn into their clothing somehow.


    A metal thread embroidered cowl shrouded their head and face, kept firmly in place by a pin that cut into the top of their forehead, leaving the light to reflect skin far paler than the villagers.


    The only visible contrast on the clothing was a metallic asymmetrical chevron: an item akin to an inverted hook made only of straight lines, featured just below the throat.


    The Village had no obvious leader, so the black-clad Soldiers were the only authority, known to the villagers as the ¡®Cast¡¯.


    A small boy passed too close to one of their stations: dirt and dust struck the lad¡¯s face as the Soldier turned swiftly with sudden force, leering at him. His piercing stare locked the boy¡¯s gaze, causing his nervous little eyes to widen and slowly drop to the sword¡ªnow in the Soldier¡¯s hand.


    The sword itself was a masterpiece of the highest order: the metal from which it was constructed stood in defiance of expectation.


    A blade so thin as to barely reflect light, the pommel comprised almost all the weight of the instrument. The handle had been meticulously crafted to fit in the hand so precisely that it made sword movement as intuitive as a gesture.


    The lad had seen what happened to anyone who aroused the irritation of the Cast. His feet slid against the loose dirt as he struggled to scramble away. All the villagers knew to stay away from these hazardous zealots, far enough so as to never be caught within range of one of their ¡®gestures¡¯.


    The boy finally succeeded in getting to his feet and made for the other children in the distance with all speed. Watching him carefully, Fawn felt the boy¡¯s fear as he ran toward her and the other children. She imagined the danger he faced, and it tightened her stomach.


    In a vacant space near the Village entrance gate, there was a marked-out play area, denoted only by jagged, crystalline rocks placed at each of its four corners. Some of these rocks had an unusual reddish tinge, built upon further as the panicked boy fell and struck his arm against one, splitting the skin instantly¡ªpouring his blood across its coarse, razor-like surface.


    A few children were running around within the defined area, jovially reaching for each other and stumbling about. The rules of their game seemed lax, but they were enjoying themselves, if only in a constrained sense.


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    The children would often tug at their long sack-like clothing. Made with sleeves to the elbow, and pants or dresses to the ankle, they were poorly fitted, and abraded the skin.


    Focusing her attention on the other children as she drew closer to the field, Fawn could feel them looking at her. She had modified her clothes: her dress was closer to knee-length, and the sleeves were all but gone.


    Lighter in her steps and more playful than the others, she had more of a sense of exuberance about her and stood out against the dusty, disheveled background.


    Fawn exhibited a peerless enthusiasm, reflected in her bright, crystal-clear eyes of shifting liquid that rarely settled on any one color.


    They were so unusual that most people would look away rather than into them, and none were ever certain of what shade they had seen. Her gilded skin reacted in a unique way to the light, like the texture of an ancient, treasured metallic statue. She often felt highlighted by her varied visage and not always for the better.


    The violent and destroyed environment of this world had been without the joy of safety for some time. The harsh nature of the villagers meant there were no happy, playful children¡ªjust frightened and mistreated ones.


    These irregular moments of relatively carefree behavior exhibited by local youth as they played had a real rarity to them, drawing a lot of attention whenever they happened.


    Although she would play with the others from time to time, the game would become dull for Fawn after a while: she found she would catch the other children too easily and never get caught herself.


    She walked around the edge of the marked-out space. Moving slowly, she drew shapes in the loose dirt with her toes. The wind howled as it battered the Village¡¯s outer wall. Dust forced against its upper edge plumed into the air in dense sheets and came cascading back down inside the poorly made interior.


    Built with its entrance gate on the flat of the land, the Village dropped away down a hill. This kept most of it in frequent, nearly constant shade.


    Buildings were made of rudimentary rough sawn timber. Fawn had never seen where the wood had come from, but the notion fascinated her.


    There were some exceptions: those buildings were composed of dry sandstone, and had stood for much longer. The whole place was a crudely intermingled scattering of structures, a poorly conceived monument to a failing species.


    Away from the center of the Village and overlooking everything from the highest point stood a reinforced, guarded tower¨C¨Ca stark contrast to all around it. Unpleasant looking, and far more carefully built than anything else in the Village, it was made of better materials, and built to impose authority.


    Fawn tilted her head up toward the ten-story edifice, nervously regarding the platforms that protruded from the circumference of the tower. Separated from each other like fingers splayed out, each platform appeared around the length of a person and varied in width.


    The sun¡¯s crimson light reflected off of something metal on one of the platforms, dancing across Fawn¡¯s eyes. She turned quickly from the whole image, disappointed that she had let herself linger as long as she had.


    She made her way down the hill: away from the tower, the gate, the wall, and the children¡¯s field, toward a small, modest structure, among others of its kind. The wholly unremarkable place Fawn called home, was made of the same wood as the rest of the Village and only just held together.


    Unlike the girl herself, the house in which she lived had no outstanding qualities. Flying in the face of all sense, it stood two stories tall, shaking and wavering in the wind, and seemed to move even if there were no breeze.


    The front door opened easily as she nudged it, revealing a few panels of poor flooring before a set of paltry, narrow stairs built against the left wall. To the right, there were four pillars coming straight down onto the dirt floor.


    Behind the pillars stood a rough boarded area, dressed with a long narrow table set with three crudely fashioned stools. A simplistic food preparation bench had been built beside the table, with a shelf above it holding various rudimentary jars. Some jars contained Fawn¡¯s favorite foods: others offered strange, strongly flavored leaves that she would stay away from entirely, given the chance.


    Dust covered all surfaces, and there had been no effort made to remove it. Over time, the gritty, ever-present material had accumulated into a dense layer. Rounding corners and edges, it was as though it should be considered something that was part of the building itself.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 2: Brothers

    Brothers


    At the table two young men sat together, one in his late teens, the other two or three cycles younger: grimy, shirtless, and scarred with all the imagery of hard labor about them. They were eating a perfunctory food paste with simplistic wooden spoons.


    Despite their rough presentation, they were gentle natured and calm. The shared time was a respite from the world around them, so they would often pass time this way. Fawn walked in and joined the two boys, sitting on the floor at the feet of the eldest.


    He looked down at her and smiled a soft smile, her presence a great source of joy for him. As evening approached, he played a soothing piece of music on his primitive, yet wonderfully resonus stringed instrument.


    Crescent shaped and hollow, with the strings running from one tip to the other, the instrument produced constant reverberations, each note lasting slightly longer than the previous one, the tones overlapping into each other, like colors mixing on canvas.


    Listening to their brother¡¯s serenade helped the younger boy forget the toils of the day, and gently lulled into sleep the baby sister they both loved so much.


    Waking up on the floor the following morning, Fawn saw her brothers were still sleeping on their stools. Moving silently, she decided to go upstairs to her small attic-like room and make preparations to leave the home early, to allow herself time to play before her daily duties.


    The extreme and intensely specific rules of the Village she lived in meant she would often find herself at odds with the controlling Cast, owing to her defiant or perhaps just free-spirited nature.


    The trouble was that for such a young girl, she had a very strong and well-evolved dislike for the constricting nature of the world in which she was forced to reside. After some time, this rebellious nature started to take a more specific form and she decided to take a chance with the clothing she so hated.


    Every few days for a week or two, before going out into the Village, she would take a small but micron-sharp razor knife made from a local crystalline formation, and slice a narrow portion of length from her horridly drab dress.


    Fawn would cut around the circumference of the garment, taking great care to follow the weave, making it just a fraction shorter than the previous adjustment, then along the neckline to add shape. This morning was to be no different, so she collected her knife to change it yet again.


    Now having made her protestant dress alteration for the day, she placed the knife on her bedroll and looked down at her feet with curious fascination. Crouching down, she dragged the top of the third finger of her right hand across her right foot.


    Her skin felt soft and responsive as she moved her hand over her ankle to her shin. This made her smile and she stood up. Now with her clothing fitting her design, she made her way out to join the recreation, as she had done so many times before.


    The other Village children were already at play, but in this place expectations and regulations had combined to make an environment of extreme authoritarian oversight, which meant all their actions were strictly monitored.


    Fawn joined the others and truly did very little that would make her stand out, but her differences became evident when contrasted to anyone, whether she intended it or not.


    All of the children had short, blackened hair, while hers was long and fair. The hair color they exhibit is not naturally occurring: it was the result of it being coated with a partially translucent greasy substance that conceals its actual hue.


    Even the naturally dark-haired children have had the same treatment¨C¨C individuality was to be muted. All the youth were controlled the same way, and although the boys had less constriction regarding hair length, they were subject to all the same parameters otherwise.


    The reason is not truly known, but it has been true for so many generations that the inclination to question it never occurred. Fawn felt as though she was born opposing the control. She had no memory of ever being anything but frustrated by it.


    She loved the way her hair brushed across her shoulders and filtered glistening light when she watched the sun set through it. She had simply never sat still when her mother tried to cut it or coat it.


    Any adults watching were disgusted by her organic appearance as well as her joyful nature.


    Among the children, Fawn stood out quite significantly, simply because she was happy in herself.


    She did not wear a hood nor hat like so many did, and did not shy from sight. No one really knew why she was like this, why she was willing to be defiant in a place where there would be so little tolerance, but for some reason she was truly and fundamentally ... distinct.


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    Two disheveled looking Village women standing at the edge of the field were clearly disapproving of her: to them she was the very pinnacle of distasteful behavior. As they watched her, they could not let it go.


    Eventually their aggravation directed the attention of a Cast patrol to the happy, spry girl. The child continued to play, oblivious to the disaster she had wrought.


    Such a lovely, friendly, gentle and smiling creature, she brightened the whole field. The other children relished her company and were drawn to her constantly.


    She was not precocious, assuming or flirtatious. She was simply unreserved and enjoyed as much of her life as she could. But envy is a dangerous and long-reaching devastator.


    Having had a satisfactory if uninspiring breakfast, her brothers remained at the house enjoying a moment¡¯s peace before starting back at their work. Clad in their dusty rags and a sheer, partially reflective hood and cowl worn to survive long periods working in the sunlight, they sat like surrealistic art from ancient times.


    A sharp knock at the door shattered the calm like a thunderclap from a stormless sky. A woman came running down from her room upstairs, her eyes fixed on the door.


    Knocking at one¡¯s door was a behavior almost entirely reserved for the militant Cast. Friends or visitors would simply announce their arrival verbally, so the sound brought immediate fear and panic to the whole family. Before she could gather herself to react properly to the harsh sound, the door was swiftly thrown open to reveal two Cast Soldiers.


    The Soldier standing on her daughter¡¯s left had his right hand firmly around the side of her throat and his thumb positioned in the middle of the back of her head.


    The distraught mother¡¯s expression turned to terror, having heard nothing yet, but expecting the worst.


    With callous accuracy, the Soldier on Fawn¡¯s right draws his fine-bladed weapon and forces the point of it slowly into the child?s right foot, piercing the space between her Achilles tendon and the bones of her ankle. He leaves it there as a cruel shackle pinning her to the ground.


    The pain-stricken child screams as her eyes well instantly with tears, her foot crippled. She drops from the Soldier¡¯s grip and falls on her left knee, clutching at her wounded ankle, wanting to collapse to the ground in pain, but desperately trying not to move her skewered foot.


    In a single moment, both of her elder brothers stood up from the table and immediately took the attention of the Soldiers.


    Their mother understood the full impact of what the boys were thinking, and with a look of horrified despair, she fell forward, her hands shaking.


    Both brothers, now standing proud, raised their left hands and spoke up.


    ¡°For our beloved and her crime.¡±


    Fawn¡¯s face dropped and her mouth opened slowly, her expression nothing but sadness, but she made no sound.


    The Soldier removed his weapon from the child?s ankle. He had intentionally inflicted a wound upon the girl that would, by design, leave her with permanent pain. She crumpled prone from the trauma. He then turned his attention to the boys.


    ¡°Then we will take you both, to pay for the defiant Girl Child.¡±


    Her brothers had both volunteered to take the punishment in her stead, and so they would both suffer for it. The Cast were not inclined towards any sense of fairness.


    Following their decision to bear their sister¡¯s punishment, the two boys were taken from their home immediately by the Cast and sent up the hill.


    They traversed the incline slowly but steadily. Having no specific knowledge regarding their fate, they felt their legs quake as they walked, a mass of tension gathering in their stomachs from trying to imagine what was coming, while hoping it was less severe than they had witnessed during their observations of other law breakers over time.


    The twisting fear and weight of raw curiosity present in almost equal measure.


    The Cast continued to remain on their heels, ready to influence the boys¡¯ movements by force at any moment, but there was no need. They marched to their punishment entirely voluntarily.


    Either one of the boys could turn and refuse the punishment at any time, but their beloved baby sister would then have to undergo hers in their stead.


    After a seemingly endless walk, they arrived at the sun-drenched tower overlooking the Village. Villagers were gathered around the tower in expectation: watching people being marched ahead of Cast Soldiers in this manner had meant the same thing for generations. The large, bolted doors at its base swung open as the boys approached.


    They entered slowly, heads heavy.


    The building itself was occupied predominantly by Cast Soldiers, with the exception of the unfortunate souls placed atop, or hanging from the outrigged platforms protruding the tower¡¯s circumference. Everything in this place was dedicated to the continuation of the influence of the Cast, as well as the containment and punishment of the people living in the Village.


    All those that resided in the Village itself were so reduced in spirit, that they could be made to commit voluntarily to savage and cruel punitive measures, imposed by what were essentially opportunistic authority figures. This was the way it had always been.


    Inside the tower chamber itself, the boys were forced into a hardened wooden corral in the center of the tower, made narrow, with a ceiling lower than adult head height. Consequently, the brothers were painfully stooped over at the shoulders as they made their way up the enclosed spiral staircase. The effect was that of crushing them: body and spirit.


    Everything about this building was designed to distress the punished at the least and cause immense suffering before death at the worst.


    The Cast, however, proceeded up a separate staircase built against the interior wall which was made wide and comfortable for their exclusive use.


    After significant ascension, the boys arrived in the middle of the uppermost floor which opened out to a modest space: however, the ceiling was just as constricting as before.


    To their left were two coffin-shaped wooden boxes, bearing metal shackles inside with no lids. The unpleasant containers sat on a mobile wooden runner that led to an opening in the wall designed specifically for them to pass through.


    The boys waited against the right-hand wall and stood motionless for a moment, staring at the caskets. The younger lifted his hand, looking at the stripe of sunlight across his palm, regarding a simple ray of mid-morning light with a mournful, and fearful, gaze.


    Gradually the boys climbed into position and lay on their backs as one of the Cast Soldiers ducked down and crossed the room from the outer staircase. He reached into each box, fastening the metal straps over their wrists and ankles, staring blankly into their eyes as he did.


    Once restrained, he carelessly slit their protective clothing, tossing them outward like the hides of captured animals, then slid the two of them out into the sunlight.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 3: Day One

    Day One


    Still coping with the cruel wound in her foot, the little girl, once full of fervor, sat on a rough blanket in her sleeping room. Pawing at the skin just above her knee on her right leg, she felt the pressing misery of the situation weighing her down, as though there were an adult standing on her back.


    She waited close to a window hole in the wall, dragging her fingers over her skin two or three times, holding it taut with one hand while moving her other hand across it. She caught a splash of dusk sunlight on her thigh and just for a moment found herself enjoying the way it seemed to make her skin shine. She had never felt the same extreme aversion to the light as the other villagers.


    Due to the position and distance from its star, the heat and light on the planet were very intense, far more extreme than that which was always so greatly revered on the Goldilocks planet of their ancestors.


    Any time in the direct sunlight, unshielded was hazardous, and the boys now had been bound face-up for far too long. Both brothers were desperately squeezing their brows down to try and diminish the rising, vicious light to no avail, as the sun burnt through their lids, leaving their eyes red and swollen.


    Although they were suffering, they made no sounds of protest: the only utterances being the eldest brother reinforcing his younger sibling. It was a torture that started with nothing more than what once might have been considered a sunny day.


    After what seemed like endless time watching out the window, she eventually saw her brothers in the distance, slowly making their way back down the hill from the tower.


    Watching them leave in the morning was the most difficult and uncertain thing she had ever faced in her short life, and not knowing what they were walking toward had grown such anguish throughout the day, that she felt it might never recede.


    Having no knowledge of what had befallen her brothers, her wave of relief at seeing them alive passed all too quickly, replaced by a sharp pang in her stomach that built further and further as they limped down the hill, bringing with them the truth of their ordeal.


    As she peered through the window, trying so hard to understand what was coming, the scene became clear. She could now see the two boys struggling to walk, shredded clothes hanging limply to their shoulders and hips, burnt and suffering, heads hung down and so very gradually making their way home.


    Seeing the evidence made all her concerns a reality, and she felt it mass behind her eyes: the weight of it bore down on her little brow, creating an expression far beyond her cycles. As the boys drew closer to their home, her last semblance of self-control gave way to falling tears. They poured out with such intensity, it felt like they may never end. Somehow, they offered no reprieve from the reality she faced.


    Her lips began to quake with the burden of a broken soul, and her mouth fell open.


    ¡° ... Oh.¡±


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    The front door opened, heavier than it ever had. The elder brother came through first, carefully removing his hand from the door. The pain from the action stalled his movements. As they crossed the room to the table, their process was stricken and arduous.


    They sat slowly on their stools to try and finish the meal they were taken from so suddenly that morning. Having managed to sit down, they struggled through significant discomfort to use the simple wooden spoons of their daily life.


    The smooth, familiar tools felt as though they were made of broken Razor Rock. There was a palpable tension of misery in the air as the boys tried their best to simply eat and feel as they once did.


    Little Fawn walked softly down the stairs still tearful and trying to wipe the droplets away faster than they could gather on her flushed cheeks. Saying nothing, she walked gently across the floor to kneel down at the feet of her severely wounded brothers, taking a place between the elder at the head of the table and the younger at the side.


    Sobbing despite her best efforts, she laid her head on the eldest¡¯s knee and looked up at him with immeasurable pain in her eyes, trying to make sense of any of it. Her brother looked down at her and smiled, his face full of love through his scorched skin. He stroked her face gently.


    ¡°Hey, Fawn.¡±


    After seeing how hard it was for her brothers to eat, she wanted to try and do something. She rose to her feet and tried her best to help the eldest with his food. As she reached over with a spoon, she came to see the true extent of the burns, pits and tattered edges in his skin, broken blood vessels and failing eyelids.


    Once the terrible damage came into focus, her legs gave out and she fell to the ground. She clutched tightly at her brother¡¯s spoon as if it might provide some comfort, and placed her free hand over her mouth as the tears started fresh.


    Her brothers stood up slowly, each placing a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezing her to bring what comfort they could.


    Fawn got up to sit on the stool at the head of the table, replacing her eldest brother. She looked down at the table and folded her right leg up onto the seat with her, dragging her fingers up her leg from her knee, letting her rough dress fall back along her leg.


    After just a moment she glanced at the position of her hand, and with a sudden understanding, she knew the reality ... she could have prevented this egregious situation by following the expected path.


    The realization took her breath, and she struggled to stifle a new wave of sadness. The limit of her understanding saved her from being utterly consumed by distress.


    She still did not know the extent of what her brothers would suffer, nor had she truly a grasp on why her deviance had merited such a reaction from the Cast. She had always imagined her punishment would end at a beating, or at most the harsh wound through her foot.


    As if knowing what was in her mind, both her brothers simply placed a kiss on her head as they passed, with the eldest offering further words of reassurance.


    ¡°Please regret nothing. We love you and your spirited nature. This is why we do what we do.¡±


    With that, he started up to his bed. Sleep seemed like a hopeless task, but they had limited opportunities left now.


    Lying in his bed, the eldest brother smiled through his burning pain as he thought of his sister¡¯s determined nature and wonderful spirit.


    To him, she would doubtless become a woman for whom the world would come to bend, and so he would do anything to give her the chance to see it.


    The impossible situation before him was just that, in its ultimate sense.


    This truly heinous and unbelievably cruel punishment was intended to carry on, and so it would. Each day the boys must rise before dawn, make their way back to the tower, climb into the boxes, lie still while they were shackled, and make no protest.


    If they did not elect their own subjugation without protest, the price they paid would never amount to enough to prevent the suffering of their dearest Fawn. So, they would pay willingly, on and on, and on ...


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 4: Day Two

    Day Two


    Morning came with all the anticipated menace of a stalking predator.


    Fawn awoke sitting on the stool at the head of the table, her dress collapsed further up her legs owing to the curled position in which she slept.


    Eventually her mother came down, having assembled the kind of meaningless courage one needs to face a situation after it has passed. She was now almost willing to acknowledge the reality her tortured children would endure, but all the same, reached with a shaking hand toward her suffering daughter: not to comfort her, but only to pull the dress further down the child¡¯s leg, covering her more effectively.


    As if this pointless and vague half-effort would now change something.


    The brothers were still walking slowly up the hill. They had closed the door behind them and left without a word, while their sister remained asleep.


    Their feckless mother was still trying to tend to the girl¡¯s dress, a misguided conservative action after the fact, unwilling to acknowledge that her sons had left the house.


    With a darkness of spirit and weighted steps, the boys dragged themselves up the hill: muscles and bones heavy, burnt and stricken with misery regarding the true nature of having to submit to such savagery voluntarily.


    As they walked, the road seemed more and more dusty, as though the environment was reaching out to prevent them from their march. With no flowers to enjoy, no clouds to admire, and nothing but grit and pain in their eyes, it felt to them both as though they may not have the strength to complete their penance.


    But the alternative ... The alternative was utterly unthinkable, no matter how hard those steps would prove to be.


    The burns covered all of the skin on the front of their bodies, and due to the way they were tied down, their palms were terribly affected. Their eyes were red and swollen, and they struggled to move freely as their muscles had begun to seize.


    No one made them walk to their punishment. They were not being whipped or threatened; they were not tied or dragged. They must walk of their own volition. Villagers wandering around them would leer at them, some throwing things, some simply shaking their heads in unspoken judgment.


    Those within earshot would make uneducated adjudications, while echoing a universal sigh of relief that they, of course, were not the ones walking toward such suffering.


    The morose shuffling continued until they reached the tower for the second time, where the doors were held open for them by Cast Soldiers: a strangely sanctimonious gesture, given the reason for being there in the first place.


    They were forced to wonder whether there was any limit to the cruel hierarchical nature of these unregulated rule makers.


    The boys passed through the opening, and slowly ascended the cramped stairway to where they must spend yet another day. A shard of sunlight passed over the younger brother, his hand trembled and he moved it from the light.


    They clambered again into the wooden boxes provided, while the Cast Soldier came across the room to lock them in, then slid them out yet again into the searing dark red, flickering sunlight. Both the boys twitched and flinched from the renewed exposure but still made no sound.


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    It was as though their silence would somehow make a point or change something. It, of course, changed nothing. Their hands curled suddenly to try and do anything about the feeling of excruciating damage to the skin of their palms. With pulses racing and bones aching, nothing helped them as they were exposed again. They would only find ease with the going down of the fearsome sun.


    The strength of the star was unending, soulless, unyielding and intense. Their eyes suffered greatly, and closing their eyelids seemed to stop nothing and was somehow no help.


    Their skin was dry, becoming rigid and scraped looking. Having been under the light for mere moments on only their second day, they were already in abject misery.


    Evening on the second day arrived with more heft and foreboding than even that morning. This time knowing more of what was going on, but still unsure of where it would lead, Fawn sat in her room watching out the window as she had done the night before.


    This time she found herself leaning on the window¡¯s edge and moving her dress off her shoulders as she had done so many times before. It seemed such a small thing to have caused such trouble. Again and again, she obsessed on how she might have prevented all of this, had she only been ... less like she had always been. Nervously she rubbed the skin on the back of her right hand and watched the evening light fade from the window.


    She looked out and saw her brothers walking back down the hill even slower than the day before. They seemed to go relatively unnoticed among the few people that passed by this time, their motions stiff and labored.


    They struggled with every movement. Fawn watched for some time as they took much longer to get home than before. Her brow furrowed in a now familiar way. She reached for her bare shoulder to squeeze it, as though she might find some solace in the mimicry of an action she knew for cycles as reassurance.


    She made her way down the stairs, arriving at the front door to see her eldest brother had already opened it. As he removed his hand from the door handle, it left skin and flesh behind, deep enough so that blood and muscle fiber fell away.


    Fawn turned sharply from the door handle with a shudder and walked with her brother to the dining table where he sank onto his stool, his teeth clenched in strain as he tried not to fall or slip. There was a simple food paste prepared for him and his brother on the table, not cold, but not hot either. It had clearly been prepared by someone who had no intention of interacting with the boys when they came home: their mother, still nowhere to be seen.


    The eldest brother, uncomfortably seated at the head of the table, struggled with his food while the younger brother seated to his right did what he could to consume something through the cracked and torn form of his mouth. With nothing worth saying to each other, the boys sat in silence as their sister came to kneel between them like she had done every night before.


    This time, the eldest brother could no longer pick up the wooden spoon he usually used. The attempt made him shake, the pain evident through his distress. Fawn helped him eat as best she could, then turned to the younger brother who was persisting with his attempts, to little effect.


    The burns on their skin were significant and numerous, as was the damage to their eyes. Their mouths were dry, their lips cracked and split deeply. The dust in their hair looked as though it had been there for weeks.


    Fawn still knew nothing of how to help, save the meager assistance she could provide with their food, but so desperately she wanted to do something, anything at all to help ... or, take back what it was she had done.


    The panic within her was mounting as she took in the true scale of what was happening to the boys before her. More than ever before, they looked like the children who had always loved her, rather than the men they were growing to be, and would have become, if not for who she was.


    The burden of reality bore down on her and began to show through the kind smile she kept for them. Eventually, the gravity of the moment gained such mass that she could no longer stand beneath it. She returned to her kneeling spot on the floor as the two brothers gradually abandoned their meals.


    Now back in her usual place, she waited for a word from one of the boys, something to give some notion of what they were feeling, or what she could do. The younger brother reached over to her right shoulder and squeezed it as he stood up, saying nothing, regarding her through scalded eyes now rimmed with blood and broken vessels. She looked back at him with gentle kindness on her face.


    He somehow managed a smile, although it cracked his mouth to do so. He then took his slow, painful steps away, ascending the stairs for something resembling rest.


    The eldest reached down to stroke her face gently with the back of his right index finger.


    ¡°We love you, Fawn.¡±


    Blood was forced to the corners of his mouth from the effort. He laid his wounded hand on her left shoulder, stood, and slowly went to join his brother.


    The stricken child doubled over with heavy grief, shaking and sobbing like an adult, not a youth, helpless and bereft.


    Regardless of how distraught she became, there was still no attention garnered from her mother who remained upstairs, unwilling to comfort any of her tortured children, too afraid to respond to the suffering of her sons, or the bitter, endless tears of her little girl.


    Both the boys had gone upstairs to bed now, so Fawn curled up on her eldest brother¡¯s stool, holding his flawed wooden spoon, and tried to get to sleep, her exhaustion total.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 5: Day Three

    Day Three


    On the third day, the tortured young men came very slowly down the stairs in overt discomfort: all movement was horrid by now. Once they got to the bottom of the stairs, they discovered their sister being berated, if at low volume, by their sporadic mother. The woman was standing over her diminutive daughter, sneering quietly through her teeth, holding the hem of the child¡¯s dress, forcibly stitching crude extensions to it, while Fawn cowered, wiping tears from her distraught face.


    As the two boys discover their mother haranguing their beloved little sibling, their reaction is extreme and decided. The youngest brother steps between Fawn and their mother as quickly as he can and grasps her by the throat with one hand, the remaining strength of his upper body still making it easy for him to haul her along, at the end of his reach.


    He walks away with her suspended by her throat beside him, her feet dragging just off the ground, presses her hard against the pillar furthest from the child and stands before her.


    The elder brother moves to where his mother had been standing over his sister, and in one purposed movement, grabs the bladed razor implement off the floor, utterly disregarding the searing pain in his hand, and moves to join his brother at the woman¡¯s side, holding the knife to his mother¡¯s abdomen. The two boys, leering down into her wide eyes, repeat their refrain.


    ¡°My life, for her spirit. WE ... have made our choice.¡±


    Their mother had clearly not considered their reaction. Her face was made of fear and anguish, her whole body fraught with misery. Her stomach plummeted as she came to know the hatred they both had for her. To her sons, she was acting like those who would inflict their suffering and take their sister.


    With his thoughts moving away from anger and his mother¡¯s actions, the eldest then took the razor to where Fawn was standing, working to slice off not only the extension that had been added to the garment, but a bit more material besides, as he knew that it was what his sister would have done.


    The two boys then moved toward the door. Fawn, now rescued from her mother¡¯s prejudice, started to make a noise to stop them from leaving, but realized there was no way she could change anything and fell to the floor in despair.


    The youngest opened the door: the eldest stepped out first. Before they shut the door behind them, the eldest discarded the blade onto the floor, in a sharp movement, leaving another portion of the skin from the palm of his hand attached to the handle.


    The pain doubled him over, but he still made no sound. As the knife struck the ground, it landed like a tiny corpse, dirt and dust clinging to the bloodied skin it was wrapped in.


    They walked with great focus up the hill yet again, repeating the statement in a mumbled loop.


    ¡°My life, for her spirit.¡±


    One man obstructed their direction for a brief moment. As he did, it became instantly obvious that the boys were now well beyond his, or any person¡¯s, judgment. Again and again in unison, like there was nothing else in the world for them, they repeated their mantra.


    ¡°My life, for her spirit.¡±


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    They got to the tower, struggled into the abhorrent boxes, and prepared themselves. The Cast Soldier strapped them down with a look of indifference. With barely a momentary thought, the Soldier slid the boys out into the sun once again, its darkened rays hitting them like scarlet shards of broken crystal, slowly and inevitably slicing into their already savaged skin.


    With renewed belief, but now with little more than a whisper left in their voices, they committed their breath as best they could.


    ¡°My ... life.¡±


    With gradual inevitability, the sun tore at them again. An acrid reddish particulate steam rose from their skin as the extreme heat finally came into contact with the precious fluid of their bodies.


    The pain was excruciating and beyond measure. Both boys fought to maintain some calm, but it proved impossible. As they desperately tried to alleviate the burning in any way, it became all too apparent that there was no respite to be had. They both began to make a ghastly scratching noise as an attempt to scream in agony escaped their savaged lips. It sounded like a cluster of rusted metal shavings sliding down a bloodied slate.


    Mercilessly, the heat and radiation withered and destroyed them, at an unrelenting, yet hideously slow, pace.


    Their bodies twitched spasmodically, their fingers curled and constricted, as their tendons shortened.


    There was sporadic undulation beneath their skin at various points, as their bodies started to collapse from the accumulated damage and exposure. The agony was matched only by the unimaginable psychological strain of not saving themselves.


    Truly, the ultimate cruelty of this horrendous punishment was that it was held in place by its victim, a tortured and tormented person, who was well aware throughout the experience that they could stop it all at any moment.


    A mere whisper would be enough to end their horror, but the cost of stopping it was a price so high that ending their misery never even occurred to either of them.


    They looked in each other¡¯s direction, seeing nothing but dried blood on timber casket walls.


    Finally, the evening came.


    In abject agony, dragging what was left of themselves back home was extraordinarily arduous. The journey was taken in short excruciating steps as the villagers watched them in morbid fascination, their common judgment slowly giving way to the awful truth of the boy¡¯s commitment.


    They eventually arrived home, the trip taking much longer than any other day, their entire bodies racked with all degrees of burnt destruction. Every nerve, every skin cell, feeling as though it were on fire. Fawn, having prepared herself as best she could, ran in a pained hobble down the stairs, thanks to her sword wound that may well follow her for life.


    She threw the door wide, standing there in her shortened dress, looking angelic and delicate against the dull and faded background environment that was her home.


    Shock took her over and she stared at the boys as they stumbled through the door, her liquid crystal eyes reflecting her mortified expression as she took in the burns on their bodies, bloodied splits in their skin, and weak fragility of their movements.


    The boys moved to sit down at the table as they had always done, but it was not feasible for either of them, and they fell to the floor writhing in pain. No part of their bodies would move correctly: the sun had done its awful work. Their muscles were burnt and cramped, and all their joints were grinding, the fluid in them all but entirely gone. Fawn ran to kneel down with them, so frightened of what this would mean come morning.


    Understanding that there would not be the usual reassuring and loving hands on her shoulder, Fawn cowered and began to sob. She made the kind of sound usually reserved for the most bereft and aggrieved of people facing an unimaginable loss after a long and difficult life, never a sound a child should have made.


    Neither of the boys had any energy. Their sight was a shadow of its former function, they could only make out blurry approximations of the world they once knew. The eldest reached towards where he hoped his sister¡¯s soft face would be. She turned her head gently to meet his burnt and deformed hand, congealed blood gathered at his fingertips. He expended a measured croak, like that of someone speaking around a broken rock.


    ¡°I ... love you.¡±


    The younger brother reached his hand out to find his sister. Resting his bloodied, stripped hand carefully on her head, he spoke to her through a stricken breath.


    ¡°I love you too, little Fawn. You are the best of us.¡±


    The child¡¯s emotions began to fold under the weight of the responsibility and culpability she felt, though she nonetheless felt more cared for than anyone. The eldest stood slowly and knelt as best he could in front of her. He placed his now crippled left hand on her bare shoulder, his torn right hand at her side, said nothing, and moved to the floor. His younger brother followed him.


    Lacking the strength and mobility to go up to bed, they slumped down on the dirt to try for some rest.


    Fawn curled alongside them and cried herself to sleep.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 6: Day Four

    Day Four


    By the fourth day the boys could no longer move their hands to do anything. Their tendons and muscles had seized from the excessive heat damage over the previous days.


    Their skin had stopped moving properly over their bones, now just a torn glove made of the remains of what was only so recently young and supple.


    A sharp knock rang, dark and menacing throughout the home. The boys strained to rise and make their way to the door. As neither of them were able to grip the door handle, their sister who had snapped awake, came to help them.


    The awful feeling that she was aiding in their demise wracked her to her bones.


    Outside the house they were met by two Cast Soldiers, the most imposing of figures, waiting like reapers collecting the damned.


    On the way out, the eldest reached behind himself but missed the door handle, his fingers sliding down the door, leaving skin, blood and flesh on the wooden panels.


    He stifled a scream of agony to protect Fawn from the reality of the situation, but she was well aware of the severity, although she could not reconcile what she was seeing with what she was feeling.


    With a hopelessly sad look on her face, her eyes glossed, her little voice croaked out through a distressed sob.


    ¡°But ... ¡±


    Both of the boys shuffled away, walking as if death pulled them by their feet. With their ever-persistent refrain, they could only murmur.


    ¡°My life ... ¡±


    They walked in catastrophic excruciation back up the hill. There was no sign of the jeering or judgmental implication from those that saw them anymore. It seemed others were finally starting to understand the significance of what was happening. The boys were proving that the cruelty of those who stood over them knew no limits in this apparently heartless place.


    With the ferocious sun coming up once again, the boys fell into their boxes. Lying amongst the dried blood, shredded flesh and lost fingernails, their crippled and suffering bodies were, as ever, pushed back into exposure.


    As they lay twitching and whimpering, their spirits had finally broken. The sun rose higher, scorching them without mercy. With no outer layers left to their skin, the light began burning flesh down to bone and heated their stomach acid to the point where it expanded and corroded what was left of their throats, leaking into their tired, fractured muscles.


    Their eyes were completely burnt over, with no movement possible. What was once a fluid had all but entirely crystallized, making them both wish they could free their hands to tear their eyes out entirely, to end the suffering.


    With gums bleeding, their teeth collapsed inward as the molars broke from reactive clenches of desperation.


    Constant physical stagnation let the sun boil the blood in their veins, searing them from within. This was a torture no living creature should ever have to endure, and yet they had been forced to choose monstrous inhuman suffering.


    Shaking terribly, the elder tried to turn and see, but could make out no details, nothing but a bloodied cloud. The comfort of looking on his beloved brother¡¯s face had been replaced forever with searing pain, and a sensation that he knew was the last of the fluid in his eyes solidifying.


    He slowly worked to form words, as his voice filled with agony. With his tongue swollen, body broken and collapsed, he tried to share kind words, remembering Fawn, with his baby brother.


    ¡°Faw¡ª¡±


    His voice quaked, his expression showed fear, terrible fear, as finally his tongue slowly split down the middle, and he bled his last.


    The younger brother, racked with terror, mustered the last breath that he had.


    ¡°Fa ... Faw!¡±


    His voice expired and vocal cords snapped. His mouth fell open, where it remained. There was no life left in him.


    Fawn, sitting in her window, was watching the sun go down, anxiously awaiting the return of her siblings.


    This time, the boys were brought down the hill by their torturers.


    When Fawn saw the bodies: burnt, broken and bloodied, her stomach twisted horrendously and she felt the awful cold that came from understanding what she saw.


    Panic breathing, she ran down the stairs. Their mother had finally come down but her cowardice continued, keeping her inside. Cast Soldiers had both boys piled onto one stretcher, dumping them on the ground several paces from the house, with the irreverence of those inconvenienced by the carrying of someone else¡¯s burden.


    Their bodies fell from the stretcher and rolled slightly apart, several paces from the door, scraping burnt flesh and congealed blood from them as they tumbled. Fawn ran like she never had before, utterly disregarding her own Cast-inflicted injury.


    Driven by grief and shock, she crashed to her knees between the bodies of her two beloved brothers.


    She reached slowly down toward each of them. As gently as she could, she placed a hand on each of their shoulders, and through torrential tears she barely controlled her own voice.


    ¡°I ... love you too.¡±


    The child shook and finally made a sound no one ever wanted to hear. Her scream measured the existence of the Village, and found it wanting. People heard her throughout the dilapidated homes, and on the dust covered footpaths. The echoes carried to the mountains beyond.


    She screamed in pain and sorrow all at once, her expression of savage torment took cycles from her life, and left her without any of the light and joy that was once in her young, sparkly eyes¨C¨Ceyes that now reflected nothing but the harsh glint of suffering.


    Finally, her mother came out of the house to face the reality. She grasped the scale of her failure as she slowly approached the bodies of her children lying on the street, the truth that she had done nothing to save them¡ªout of a fear for her own life. It was more than she could bear, sending her fleeing back inside to crumple on the floor.


    Fawn continued to wail like a lost soul, and into her breath she slowly wove the words that scraped like claws at her mother.


    ¡°You ... did ... NOTHING! You should have helped them! You should have done something!¡±


    In the True Darkness, she sat crying on the ground with nothing but the destroyed corpses of her once-loving brothers to keep her company. Thoughts kept repeating in her mind.


    Why did they do it? Why did they die for me?


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    Little Fawn never truly understood the full scale of the punishment she would have suffered, had she not been shielded from it by her brothers. The obsession began in her mind: that she must learn what it was that they died to save her from.


    If her brothers were still alive they absolutely would not let her find out what she had so narrowly avoided, but now with their bodies the only reminder of what they had done, she felt with a deep certainty that she must know why it was worth their lives.


    An intense focus and resolve, normally reserved for those of many more cycles lived, grew in her mind. She would do whatever was necessary to discover the truth behind the cruel, ruling hand of the Cast that they all feared, no matter the time it would take, or force of will it required.


    Having set her mind, she went back into the house to ready herself for the journey that had so many unknowns to it. Given that this was not something she had ever done before, she had sparse knowledge to draw on to prepare herself.


    Passing her worthless parent kneeling on the floor, she sent her a scowl of hatred, seen only by the flickering orange light of an herb burning in a ceramic plate hung from the ceiling. Even then, her mother again tried to make some motion to the revealing nature of her clothing.


    Fawn reacts in a concerted movement, tearing at her dress: making it so short as to no longer conceal her perfunctory undergarments, which themselves are poorly made clothes that look more like coarse polishing cloth, than anything suited to wearing against one¡¯s skin.


    Her mother reels at the exposing of so much of the child, and opens her mouth as if to say something. Before she can even draw a breath, the little girl, once so rich in jovial revelry, takes up the razor knife that her brother used not two days ago to make his point, and stabs it right through her mother¡¯s constantly reaching hand, pinning it to the dirty ground.


    The woman lets out a shriek that is cut short as her daughter stifles it with her free hand. With venom in her voice, and savagery in her beautiful eyes, Fawn stares at her.


    ¡°They died so I could be myself ... and you, you cannot take that from me now.¡±


    With a single movement she steps on the knife still piercing her mother¡¯s hand, to hold it where it is. So fast and powerful is her impact on the blade, that it forces a reactionary spasm in her mother¡¯s legs, skating them backward against the ground and wedging her foot under the crude wooden floor behind her. The staked woman cannot summon the strength to remove her hand from the ground, or the will to split her hand around it.


    As her mother looks up at her in panicked disbelief, the determined girl then strips all her remaining garments from her body, stands naked over her mother and leers at her with great intensity.


    ¡°Why am I so horrible that it makes me criminal?! Why is my body so evil that I must suffer, and my brothers have died?!¡±


    As she stood over her mother, truly revealed for all that she was, there was a clarity to her now from head to toe, unveiled in a way that was utterly forbidden.


    Her body was one of perfected delicate symmetry, with light muscles moving in an idealistic way across her bones. Nothing about her body was any more, or less, than perfection and balance.


    There seemed an almost unworldly nature to her skin, which captured the subtlest of reflected light from any source and let it move unfettered over her.


    Awestruck, her wounded mother tried to comprehend just what it was that had happened.


    It felt as though all was lost, when only a few short days ago she was a provider of hearth and home.


    As the true magnificence of her daughter started to sink in, she had the two most contrasting of thoughts: that of a mother who was in a way proud of her child for her strength, and yet the other was that of a person who believed what she was seeing was wrong, so wrong in fact that she had no way to reconcile it in her mind.


    As the feelings of prejudice and mindless conscription to regulation came thick and fast to replace whatever reverence she may have had for her child, she drew her pained breath to scream at her.


    ¡°It¡¯s your fault! You are the Godsless animal that brought this upon us! You!¡±


    She then collapsed back to her prone position, knife stuck firmly between the bones of her hand.


    With a reaction such as this, Fawn began to see the reality of the situation: her mother was truly weak-spirited, and so resolved to sit and watch her for a moment, to think.


    Slowly, but with great purpose, she moved in front of her writhing parent and sat cross-legged beside the pool of blood soaking into the dirt floor.


    Looking deep into the eyes of the carer she once loved so, seeing nothing but judgment and disdain took all warmth from her heart.


    An understanding was forming that the woman she was looking at had a compulsion to report her criminality, in a poorly conceived attempt to gain favor with the controlling hand of the Cast.


    Slowly her misery began to strip away, leaving only resolution in its place.


    Lying on the cold ground, struggling from the searing pain in her hand, her mother looked at the petite harbinger sitting across from her like a goddess in judgment, made of a flawless physique and pitiless gaze.


    Regarding the sheer visage of her once-familiar child, her mind flared with rage.


    How can she exhibit such disgusting behavior?


    Observing the growing bile in her mother¡¯s eyes, the truth became clearer to Fawn by the moment. Ever increasing in scale, like the crimson stain forming in the dirt, was the new truth. The truth was, her mother ... now endangered her life.


    Fawn knew now that she could not depend on her mother, or truly even trust her to keep the wolves of the Cast from the door. She began to consider what that really meant for her.


    As the menacing reality started to encroach upon her, she arose from her cross-legged position. Moving with remarkable strength, she simply stood straight up from the side of her ankles and slid her feet into position, ignoring the pain in her wounded foot. With little effort, her musculature worked in faultless concert as she moved.


    Watching her daughter rise with such grace brought a moment of reverence to the wounded shell that her mother now was.


    The thought was quickly replaced by contempt, as the muscles around Fawn¡¯s hips and stomach pleated and relaxed, announcing her nakedness with such flagrant disregard for proper standards.


    So determined to bellow at one who was no longer considering her words, finally her mother screamed at her.


    ¡°Cover yourself, animal!¡±


    Fawn moved away from her irate mother toward the stairs.


    Glancing back, she saw that the blood-sodden patch of dirt was still growing larger. She imagined that the knife in her mother¡¯s hand would somehow eventually stop the bleeding.


    She had, of course, never inflicted an injury upon anyone before, let alone such a grievous one.


    Confident that her mother was at least no threat while pinned to the ground, she continued up the stairs and began to conceive of a garment for herself. She would, after all, need something that concealed her. If she was to pass unnoticed among the others, she would need to blend in a little bit.


    Now she knew that her defiance of expectations would lead to all manner of attention she did not want.


    With only two or three fluid movements, she was over the rails and up the stairs. She was truly powerful in her small body, almost in a way that made moving herself around a matter of thought only, not effort.


    She went to her mother¡¯s room to gather some of the terrible cloth from which all their stark clothing was made.


    She started picking out pieces that she thought would be somewhat useful, and hopefully be a little more comfortable and smooth against her soft skin.


    As she reached down to get hold of a small piece of cloth, she found herself trailing her fingers down her stomach for a moment. She felt pleased to be free to make contact with her own body, however brief, without fear.


    As the moment of relief passed, the grief for the loss of her brothers came pouring back.


    Their determination to let her be herself had, in the end, come at the highest of costs.


    Finally, she gathered herself and looked again at her body as something she had been gifted, rather than something to be ashamed of. This thinking, of course, was why her brethren gave their lives for her, and they carried that resolution of belief with them to the absolute end.


    She discovered a type of cloth that she didn¡¯t recognize, due to its softer weave. She imagined a design she could wear that would meet with the expectations of others that regard her, while still reflecting some of what she truly was.


    With that, she re-fashioned her underclothes with the new material, making new wraps more gentle against her skin than the coarse rag in which she had always been enrobed. She then went on to conceive outerwear more like something that moved with her. The outfit was now a bare minimum consideration, made only to insulate her from the harsh environment¡ªnot simply a controlling hand, sewn into clothing.


    She readied herself to move downstairs again. She must face the reality she had placed aside for the time taken to make her clothing.


    Moving less comfortably than she had while she was bare, but far more freely than in all her previous days, she leaped back down the stairs.


    Arriving at the bottom with a graceful poise, she saw her mother¡ªweakened, pale, and without the will to struggle against the knife through her hand.


    Fawn had inadvertently made a trap for the suffering woman. She was caught by her foot between the planks of the boarded area ... and thanks to the blade pinning her wounded hand out of reach of the other, she could neither remove the knife nor move herself to recover.


    Nevertheless, it was for the best. Fawn had no doubt that her mother would have run to report her at first opportunity.


    Fawn stopped to consider any possible alternative. She still had the hope of a child, and the want of a daughter for her mother¡¯s approval.


    But what can I do?


    At that moment her stricken parental figure saw that she had made a new garment for herself, one that was still an outlandish defiance of social standards, and tried once more to object.


    It was clear. Fawn¡¯s last hopes faded as she pulled the knife from her mother¡¯s hand and, freeing her foot, propped her up against the table. With no strength left, the majority of her blood seeped into the dirt. Her mother tried to sit up but slumped against the table leg.


    Fawn now regarded her with some sympathy, but as she reached out to assist, her mother still spent the effort to form the word ...


    ¡°Animal.¡±


    With what breath she had left.


    Feeling the true weight of her coming solitude, Fawn began to sob once more. Her family, her love, and truly even her youth ... lost.


    All that remained was her immaturity, a condition which now felt like such a burden.


    Through the glaze of tears, she watched the last of her once-beloved mother¡¯s blood leak away into the ground.


    An exhausted sleep came over Fawn as the cold of isolation closed in: no longer a family member, just a lonely child.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 7: Officials

    Officials


    A shock came crackling through her nerves, the way it might if she had dropped a blade point-first toward her foot. There was a rattled and aggressive knock at the door. It was a Cast patrol, surely come to apply some further reprimand.


    They would neither say nor do anything good, should they discover her here, her brothers¡¯ bodies outside, and her mother expired on the floor¡ªfrom the injury she herself had inflicted. Like a frightened animal, Fawn instinctively sprung up from the floor. With a dexterous leap she moved onto the table, up the closest pillar, and into the space between the rough-hewn tiles and their supporting timbers.


    As the knock had now gone unanswered, the Cast reacted as they always did.


    ¡°Open this door, we do not tolerate disobedience!¡±


    And with that, the poorly built door cracked down the middle and fell apart, spilling fragments of light across the floor. Immediately sighting the body slumped against the table, they strolled across the room, and proceeded to simply kick it in an offhand manner.


    One of the three Soldiers held an expression of disrespect, making sure the poor, perished woman before him knew that he thought her life was worth less than the time taken to discover its conclusion. Watching their utter disregard for her entire family and living space, Fawn¡¯s fear began to exchange for a darkened clarity.


    A cold feeling moved through her body, the pain in her little ankle exacerbating the tension. She could see her breath forming in front of her. There was just enough cold in the treacherous desert land to make her warmth contrast against the morning air. She drew her breath in and thought for a moment.


    What do I do?


    There were three of these contemptible Cast, and all three were grown men with no love for children¡ªless for girl children, and still least of all for the child who evaded punishment for her violation of their rules.


    They were talking about what they wanted to do with her home, as if it were nothing more than freshly caught food they had ¡®confiscated¡¯ from some poor villager, and were now callously dividing up right in front of him. This continued disrespect caught Fawn¡¯s ears. She felt her stomach tighten and heart slow, her teeth pressed hard together.


    She was not privy to cycles of combat training, violent propensities, or experience with subduing Soldiers. Realizing that no matter how she responded, she was very unlikely to come out of it alive, she started to let the need for vengeance go somewhat¡ªin favor of not joining her mother in a blood stain on the floor.


    It disturbed her that the worst part would be what they could say over her as she died, or even what they might dare to do with her body once she was critically wounded. Her brother had warned her that she was the kind of beauty that amoral men would treat as a toy for games of their own devising, given the chance.


    She never really asked for specifics, as she had not any cause to do so before, but her feeling was that her brother was warning of something terrible, and that these men were precisely the type she needed to be wary of.


    Having decided there was no real way for her to exact a sufficient punishment for their distasteful behavior without getting caught herself, she decided to stay hidden and figure out a better approach. Fawn¡¯s tutors had always said she was clever enough to accomplish anything she focused on.


    Yet in the days of schooling past, she was rarely inclined to actually focus on the tasks she was given, due to finding them entirely uninteresting and rewardless. Now would be the time when she could focus the best of her mind and see what she was capable of, dearly hoping that those tiresome tutors were correct. She now required all possible intellect and wiles if she was to become the predator she needed to be, rather than the prey she currently was.


    Staying hidden was clearly the right choice. The Soldiers eventually left having found nothing they considered new information regarding the girl who had been stolen from their execution. In truth, they were far less interested in the effort required to do so correctly than in finding a newer, easier target. They left behind them the smell of blood, as they always did. To Fawn, their sounds were loud, harsh, far too frequent, and their stench was pungent. Her brothers had always been soft-spoken and mild of odor, something she had thought was just natural to all men.


    Only now she knew it to be her siblings that were unusual, perhaps in consideration of her sensitivity.


    She wondered how she had gone so long not noticing these smells, and the stark noises of the other people intermittently around her.


    In this moment she began to see more clearly how much she differed from others: not just her colored skin and faultless physicality, but even the way she perceived the world.


    Still without a true understanding of why, she resigned herself to it being something she could now use to better survive.


    She needed to move forward.


    The time she could safely stay here was quickly running out and she needed a good option. With no friends or extended family to reach out to, she knew her choices were very limited. Finding somewhere to hide and something to eat were quickly going to be the only things that mattered.


    Quietly, but with remarkable swiftness, she pulled herself over the crude rafters and down onto the stairway, her limbs traversing like liquid with accuracy born of purpose. Now consciously committed to keeping herself alive, there were new thoughts and feelings of dedication running through her, making a viable path for her to move along¡ªa path that she was quickly coming to understand was hers alone.


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    Waiting, hidden until the fierce sun had dropped behind the dust and sand that made up the horizon, she collected the knife that had drained her mother, slid herself out of the small decrepit building and onto the dusty road behind the home.


    After fewer than ten steps, she skewered her foot on a protruding rock.


    Having a fresh wound already through her other ankle, a stone cut on her foot was going to be a major issue. She yelped, struggling hard to hold in the reaction, and any noise that would come with it. After all, the Cast were always only a moment away, and most certainly a child¡¯s scream would bring them running ... to see what they could take from the situation.


    Quickly sitting down to tend to the hurt, she noticed the reactive nature of the damage. Something was burning her flesh where the rock had punctured it: a form of naturally occurring acid in the dirt and on most of the minerals on the planet.


    She started to scrub at the cut with a piece of the garment she had made for herself. Gratefully, it was a cloth of a much softer and kinder nature than her previous outfit, and she was able to stem the acidic reaction and bleeding somewhat¡ªnot perfectly¡ªbut she needed to keep moving.


    Hobbling on both feet due to the true misfortune of having the stab wound through her right ankle, and the acid-burnt puncture in her left foot, she made her way slowly.


    For a moment her feelings started to take over and she slumped forward in a depression. Feeling the emotional weight on her back, at a loss to explain the awful situation in which she found herself, for a moment she was overcome with despair.


    ¡°Why ... me?¡±


    But then only one moment later her resolve re-formed with the memory of what her kin endured to protect her life. She pulled herself up once again and snarled at her wounded feet.


    ¡°Stop complaining!¡±


    Quickly and quietly skirting the edge of the Village, she started looking for anything that she might use as a temporary hiding place to gather herself, and maybe if she was very lucky, get some sleep. Her muscles were worn from moving over the rough ground, with her basic bandages only just keeping the blood from spilling out onto the dirt and giving her location away.


    People would be looking for her now, and possibly en masse. This whole situation had never occurred in the short time that Fawn had existed. Those who were accused of any crime were simply caught and punished, most often to their deaths.


    There were few, if any, examples of what one would call a criminal at large. In part, because of the generational training and belief system that led to the extremity of subjugation, clearly evident within the Village itself.


    There was a valley behind the Village going down from the wall. It then progressed onward to a cliff face rising in the distance that would make a reasonable retreat location, if she could cover the ground effectively in the time she had. She found a failing portion of the wall, where it was lower than it should have been. Climbing out there was easy enough, and once outside she followed some rocks that led the way she needed to go.


    They were craggy and irregular enough to conceal her from prying eyes. After some time moving through the rocks, she found herself at the base of the valley looking up at the cliff. She turned to make her way up the sharp and unforgiving face.


    Part way up the difficult surface, she realized there was a good chance that she would injure herself further on the Razor Rocks as she went up higher. Her brothers had always warned against climbing too high up the rocks, because as they gained in altitude, they also increased in hazard. Now taking extra care with every movement, she continued to make her way up the cliff face, with one simple thought driving her.


    No one else will come up here.


    Able to climb, and maneuver her way with relative ease, despite the pain in her feet, the task felt far less difficult than she imagined.


    Finally, something I can do.


    Climbing on like someone born to it, she pulled herself from one dangerous razor to the next, slipping like water over a riverbed. After some time, she finally found herself at a cave large enough for an exhausted girl.


    As she crossed the cave threshold, she was immediately grateful for the shade and slight moisture present inside. Once the sun rose, it would become increasingly difficult to find any reprieve from the ferocious heat and harsh light without seeking out shelter.


    The Village was only made of basic and unpleasant buildings, yet they were essential for survival as the sun reached its summit each day.


    As she passed further into the cave, she started to feel peaceful enough to rest. Finally, some quiet without the risks that had plagued her day-in and day-out since this awfulness began¨C¨Can event that felt like it was a lifetime ago.


    Within the insulated dark of the cave, she was able to stop and breathe long enough to feel the terrible dryness in her mouth. A headache formed, accompanying the hollow in her stomach. It had been some time since she had a chance to attend to food or water. There was a wet moss growing on the cave wall, from which there was significant water to be had if she twisted it in cloth to press out its moisture.


    This was sufficient for now. Moisture Moss, correctly harvested and processed, was frequently a water source for the villagers. There would, however, be a dire need for food of some kind very soon. She settled in, sitting with her back against the cave wall.


    I wish I¡¯d brought food.


    There would likely be some kind of search group sent out to look for her soon, as news of her mother¡¯s death would have made its way back to the authorities by now. Regardless of her having been spared the punishment for her clothing defiance, there would be another ascribed to her for the ultimate passing of her mother. Whether she actually had anything to do with it or not, she would be blamed as a former law breaker, although this time of course, it was her doing ...


    Oh Gods. I let her die.


    No matter what the terrible crimes of inaction her mother had committed, she was still her mother, and had been her only parent, having never known her father. The burden of loss weighed on her young soul immensely. There was so little that she felt she could¡¯ve done differently in order to survive, and that had quickly become her only focus.


    Mother should have protected me, shouldn¡¯t she? ...  Isn¡¯t that what mothers do? Why didn¡¯t she help me?


    Ferocity grew ever stronger in her mind.


    Why?!


    She kept obsessing over the same thought, until finally it spilled out.


    ¡°I HAD NO CHOICE!¡±


    The sound echoed through the back of the cave: there was obviously more to this cave than she originally believed. As she heard the echo clack and rattle through the caverns behind her, she felt her stomach sink.


    I can¡¯t make that kind of noise, they¡¯ll find me!


    With a frantic realization and racing pulse, she held her breath, covered her mouth, waiting ... listening for the predators that would pursue her, and the shout of self-righteousness that would come from the Soldiers if they found her. That noise they would make. Those monsters that take so much, and give nothing.


    There came no such noise, she was finally able to exhale now. She was, however, left with the clear thought that from now on, she must keep her anger and frustration with the world restricted to thoughts. The risk of discovery was too great.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 8: Toys

    Toys


    People within the Village started to gather some curiosity regarding the fate of little Fawn and her two perished siblings. But no one had yet accumulated the courage to go to their home, or ask any questions of the vicious Soldiers that prowled at all times. So often, the Cast were a moment away from declaring any questions to be heresy, and therefore subject to one or other of the punishments that they seemed so eager to dole out.


    So far, people had limited themselves to wondering only, as the risk of even being overheard was too great. Once curiosity had started to take hold, however, it was becoming evident that more and more people were beginning to reflect the same wonder:


    Where is the Girl Child?


    They knew that the boys had been tortured to death, so they were a good deal more subdued as a result¡ªgiven it had been at least a generation since anyone had taken a punishment on behalf of someone else.


    Regardless of professed love, it was a rare animal that would sacrifice itself, especially to a very slow and agonizing demise.


    All the same, the collective thoughts were asking the same question, and there was as yet, no answer. Some were notably missing the little giggling, smiling, crystal-eyed girl they used to see enjoy herself in so many ways. Now only the broken-hearted and gray-spirited children of the rest of the Village remained.


    Whether any of them would break silence to discover the fate of one they admired, or ask about the truth behind where she had gone, was yet to be discovered. There were those few who had love for her in their own way, but once they found out what she had done to her mother, there was no guarantee their affections would remain.


    For now, the disapproving and authoritarian were winning the battle of wills, as there were, of course, far more who felt the child deserved her fate, and were angry that she had been spared the true payment she owed. Worse still, she had caused the loss of two strong, diligent workers of breeding age. Those who still wanted to see her pay would say so.


    ¡°She should still hang for what she is, disgusting child, foul flaunter, Witch of skin.¡±


    Hanging was a truly monstrous punishment, even in this world.


    There were Cast Soldiers looking now. Not with great intent and focus, but with a cursory involvement in the belief that a Girl Child was not allowed to be like she was, nor get away with her crimes. Above all else, she could not be seen to make the Cast look fallible: that had never happened.


    Not in any living person¡¯s memory had anyone outmaneuvered the Cast, certainly not a low-born Dust Cloth girl, and none would ever have imagined a child of any kind causing such trouble.


    Trapping and punishing this escaped deviant had become crucial¨C¨Cshe must pay, and suffer, and bleed, and regret, and revere the might of their control.


    This extreme thinking had come to define the Cast over the course of time and obviously had never been checked or even challenged. With no rival Villages or settlements, no overall mass sense of reason or reasonable behavior, there had been nothing for so long to even suggest that the status quo was bad, so there was now no belief that things could be different.


    Patrols continued to wander around the Village in confident assumption that the idiot Girl Child would make herself obvious soon. Their frustration grew and showed no sign of ebbing.


    One unfortunate young woman passed by an aggravated Soldier and neglected to acknowledge him. With a swift and focused movement, he skewered the small toe on her cloth-wrapped left foot.


    She stops immediately and screams. He moves forward holding the blade through her foot so she can¡¯t run and reaches out to her loose garment.


    There is a callous lecherousness in his voice.


    ¡°What are you doing, Dust Cloth?¡±


    ¡°Ahh! Just passing by, Superior.¡±


    His anger becomes increasingly evident.


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    ¡°What makes you think it¡¯s acceptable to ignore me?¡±


    Tears build in her eyes, heart racing and sweat quickly accumulating at her hairline, she attempts to placate him.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Superior.¡±


    The Soldier reaches out his free left hand to grab at her waist, squeezing the small amount of her lithe body he can fit between his thumb and fingers, hard enough to make her cringe. She jolts and crumples.


    She dares not recoil, as the blade remains through her toe, and the penalty for retracting herself from his wants will be much greater than that which she currently endures.


    Suddenly, a voice comes from the shade of a nearby shelter.


    ¡°Please Superior, she¡¯s a compliant girl, I beg of you¡ª¡±


    But before it can finish, the Cast has turned his attention to the new presence.


    An older man, looking withered and drawn from cycles of labor, walks toward the entanglement of the Soldier and his most recent prey. His upturned palms submissively presented out in front of him, he has a desperately mournful look on his face and pleading in his eyes.


    The Soldier¡¯s focus is now firmly fixed on the old man, his eyes trace as though they are being led by the man¡¯s movements, not following them.


    The Soldier¡¯s tone demands immediate response, his left hand still affixed to the side of his victim.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Nothing but to ask for your lenience, Superior.¡±


    The old man is clearly afraid for the young woman in the Soldier¡¯s grasp.


    More focused, the distempered Soldier begins to make a sound, not one originally associated with humans. A sound like that of an animal warning off its lessers, coupled with a strange clicking faintly in the background. The kind of sound one might imagine would come from a poisonous creature.


    Suddenly, the woman in his grasp shrivels.


    ¡°Please Superior, ignore my grandfather. He knows only that I am in danger, not that I was rude to you. I beg you, please go no further, I will comply with all orders.¡±


    Slowly the Cast turns to the scared, shivering thing in his hand. His iris now clearly an orange shade, he peers at her.


    ¡°You remain at our grace, like a herd.¡±


    He moves his left hand from her now bruised waist and tracks down her hips to her crotch.


    ¡°Or a toy ... ¡±


    Finding the softest part of her, he squeezes with an utterly unreasonable amount of pressure, and begins to lift her by her pelvis as she curls forward, feeling the awfully specific tips of his fingers bruise and scrape at her skin.


    With overwhelming speed, the Soldier pulls his blade from the young woman¡¯s toe, and points it at the old man approaching.


    ¡°And you are of no value whatsoever, do not presume to speak to me.¡±


    In the space of a blink, he lunges forward with the struggling woman in hand, and cuts a spiral down the old man¡¯s wrist from his thumb, halfway up his forearm¡ªslicing to the bone. The captured woman howls in his grasp behind him. Before the old man can even react to the atrocious wound, the Soldier  returns his blade to its scabbard.


    He turns back to his captive, now crying and writhing in pain.


    ¡°Stop struggling.¡±


    All the while moving his fingers as though there was no weight on them, making her suffering much worse.


    Suddenly, ... a distant scream from outside the Village, like a child protesting, crosses his hearing. Dropping his quarry, he shifts his weight and is obscured by the dust left in his wake.


    Crumpling to the ground and clutching at her bruises, she called for help for her grandfather, who had passed out from the pain and loss of blood.


    ¡°Why did he do this?¡±


    She asked her question as though someone might be able to answer and explain some part of what she just experienced.


    ¡°He was no threat, he wasn¡¯t being rude, why did he do this? Help!¡±


    But there was no help coming. The presence of a Soldier had been more than enough to keep away any would-be assistance, or even the most dedicated of brave souls.


    There was no predator here like that of the Cast. They seemed nearly superhuman, and there were none among the Dust Cloth that were ever going to risk running headlong into the fanged predations of these terrible overseers.


    Too many had seen a defiant rebel try and fail, or a well-meaning friend suffer far beyond what seemed fair. And here again was yet more evidence, as her grandfather bled out on the dusty rock-covered ground. A miserable thought occurred to her as she watched him expire.


    He died for nothing.


    He could not have saved her, and in the end, the Soldier¡¯s attention was taken elsewhere.


    The doting elder she had valued her whole life was gone now, just more red tinge on sharp rocks. Another cautionary tale.


    As she sat sobbing over his fallen frame, the wound on his arm began unraveling like the coils of so much dirty red cloth, falling away from lack of purchase.


    The Soldier had sliced flesh from bone. Not simply cutting inward, he had fileted the arm. The sight of her dear grandfather¡¯s arm methodically taken apart was much worse than an accidental rock wound or broken limb, as it was so ... clinical. Seeing the savagery so driven by a remorseless hand, she could no longer cope.


    The strain on her body from the ordeal and sight of her butchered grandfather compounded as her stomach wretched, expelling her day¡¯s food. She fainted.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 9: Cave

    Cave


    After some rest and having gathered water for herself from the moss around, there was a feeling of calm starting to settle in.


    Does it feel better in the quiet, or worse?


    With all that had happened already, the storm of thought that continued to rage in her mind was still doing damage: so many questions, and so little knowledge.


    With a spare moment, Fawn turned to the wounds on her foot and ankle to see if she could ease the pain. There would be a great need to move soon, ideally without the restriction of the impeded motion she had dealt with so far.


    If only she could remedy something, anything to make the way a little easier.


    Recalling how her mother used to bind her wounds brought melancholy, as she looked down at her damaged feet. She fought desperately to stay ahead of the dark feelings building up, as the memories came flooding back so quickly.


    Binding her punctured foot proved easy enough, but doing anything for her ankle presented impossible. The wound left by the Cast blade seemed resistant to any form of basic healing, and while it had finally stopped bleeding, it remained as fresh in look and feel as it did the moment it happened.


    The cut from the rock was nothing more than the kind of thing that happened every day on the playing field. Although this one seemed to hurt more than usual, attributed to the rock that cut her being further serrated than those around the field. As her thoughts calmed and adrenalin dropped, she finally felt a massive pressure in her abdomen.


    Oh God. How long have I been holding  ...


    With all overdue urgency, she dashed further back into the cave as far as she could, hoping to relieve the pain.


    No. I¡¯ll go outside somewhere ...


    She made a highly motivated series of movements, running, then traveling on all fours. As she landed outside the cave she moved as far to the side as she could before the cramp of bladder control took over.


    ¡°Ow! Here will do.¡±


    As she felt the tension in her body ease, there was an odd moment of almost normality¡ªbecause through all that had gone wrong, there was still the same need as ever to be free of the demands of bodily functions. It brought laughter to her mind.


    Some things don¡¯t change.


    The water finally stopped and she saw it vaporize against the still heated rock.


    Something that began in her mind fairly quickly, was the idea that not only would she need food and water, but the capacity to clean herself. Otherwise, the trackers she had heard people fear, would find her too easily. She didn¡¯t know much of anything about how or what trackers really were, but she knew that smell could be a strong leader.


    She herself could detect others at quite a distance, and they always seemed so strongly odored up close.


    How am I going to wash?


    Fawn began to think about how to set herself up for future endeavors. Food was going to be a challenge; water would come from the mosses for now. As long as she kept away from the cave to relieve herself, the specifics of her hiding place would be vague enough to trackers.


    So, food is the hard part. Mother never told me where our meals came from.


    It was hard for Fawn to imagine anything other than the daily mash she had grown up on, it seemed to originate at ... the food bench. She had no idea how it started its life prior to that, but of course she was still young and that was the stance of most young children in the Village, that food came from their providers. There was nothing wrong with that normally, only in a normal situation a child was not forced to leave their provider to die.


    So, this is it then. No food if I don¡¯t find it myself.


    Back inside the cave, she used some of the gathered moss water to clean herself a bit, making sure that her odor remained as mild as possible, while giving some relief from the dust and grime abrading her tender skin.


    Having managed some form of cleanse, and feeling just a little more capable, the clear thought took over.


    I must hunt or steal something to eat.


    Night was setting in again so the cover of dark would work to shield her, but the Cast would be harder to see in the low light.


    What about hunting?


    She knew that was something that people did, the trouble was, she had no idea where to start, how to find creatures that were edible, or even how to get anything to kill them with. It was hard to imagine her razor knife being capable of such a kill, sharp though it was, the distance and knowledge required to use it escaped her.


    Finally, with a deep and disappointed sigh, she understood that her only option at this point was to venture back to where the people were and try to get hold of food, without alerting anyone.


    So, with a clearer mind, she knew where to start.


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    Taking an extra drink from the moss, she set about making her way back down the cliff, toward the Village. The first challenge would be seeing her way. She took some time to let her eyes adjust, to learn what was around her.


    Straining to focus, she could make out some of the vague shadows that comprised her dark surroundings, but not enough to move around safely. The Razor Rocks would doubtless make shreds of her if she set a foot wrong.


    What should I do?


    Disappointed, she folded herself into a sitting position on the one piece of flat dirt she could find outside the cave. After a while her frustration focused her. She stared obsessively at one of the rocks she remembered the shape of. Perhaps if she could just make out some of the outlines, it would give her something to work with. She just couldn¡¯t see what she expected ... and yet, something was there.


    With more time passing, she noticed that the effort of staring at the faded outline wasn¡¯t hurting her eyes. In fact, she felt like there was a growing peace coming from the experience, as though the dark was just slightly more comforting for her than the light.


    This was all a new possibility, as she had never really been in the True Dark. Her mother had always had her brothers burn Oil Brush, a local shrub, to keep light present in the home. They had all said that it was impossible to see in the True Dark, but she was starting to make out more and more of the rock outline.


    She couldn¡¯t understand why it felt so comforting to be in the darkness, and with so little sound: the mild backdrop of the cave the only odor she could discern.


    The peace was something she hadn¡¯t experienced before, no strong smells; no noise. It was a salve for her senses as it all began to grow familiar: the comfort of cool darkness replacing the harshness of bright daylight, and all the threats it brought with it.


    After sitting dead still for a long time, to her immense surprise, the rock became clear to her. She could see the outlines, the details and felt like she knew it somehow, knowing that it was ... solid, and not the least bit pliable.


    Curiosity grew about other objects she could see around her. A small Oil Brush for example, looked frail and thin, regardless of it being a thicket of bristly branches and tightly packed leaves. Its bark was cracked and craggy like the surface of a broken sandstone covered in dried blood, where the red oil seeped from the inner layers of its trunk.


    She had never seen such detail, perhaps she had never looked, or she just hadn¡¯t noticed it before. It didn¡¯t really matter anymore. Now she could see it: an advantage no matter what.


    As she moved to examine the Oil Brush more closely, a pebble fell off the ledge she was sitting on and rattled its way down the cliff. With a start, she felt the immense volume it produced, and saw an effect reflected on the Oil Brush she was staring at so intently.


    Did I really just see that? I have to be sure.


    She took up another pebble and flicked it at the brush. With no equivocation, there was a reaction. The sound presented outlandish, she knew it wasn¡¯t truly loud, only a contrast from the background while she focused so intently. What she saw was something else entirely.


    The brush moved and created a shimmer around its edges. The impact point of the pebble was a darker, more pronounced shimmer, while the rustling of the leaves was lighter, with patterns made smaller.


    Now I can truly search for whatever I need.


    She could now make her way at least into the Village and have a reasonable chance of perceiving what was coming and hopefully avoiding trouble. After all, she wanted only to get something to eat and return to the relative safety of her earthen dwelling.


    With renewed vigor and an immature sense of hope, she was pleased to be making her way down the cliffside toward what she imagined would be food and perhaps something she could use as a hunting weapon.


    Maybe more, or better, clothing too¡ªcrucial against the sudden cold this heartless dusty rock could be prone to.


    As she started to approach the less dangerous of the rocks lower down, her spirits started to lift. She remembered fondly a sweetened version of her mother¡¯s mash that the younger of her brothers used to make for her, on the days when his workload was light.


    As she descended further, closer to the familiar areas, her thoughts strayed from those of pure survival.


    Oh, I know. I¡¯ll find some Sweet Stars I haven¡¯t had¡ª


    Suddenly there was a smell, that tone of char and blood that came from Cast Soldiers.


    ¡°OH GODS! Where are they?¡±


    There was a dark figure in the distance moving with an irritation in his step and flicking his head left and right as he went, the unmistakable movements of someone that knew they were being evaded.


    If she were to run drastically, he would surely notice the noise and changing environment as she moved.


    She couldn¡¯t slink away and hope to find food tomorrow, food she desperately needed to sustain her already vocal stomach. Time was working against her: she had to find a way around him, and in a fashion that satiated his curiosity, rather than piquing it further.


    Watching carefully as the Soldier made his way around the lower part of the cliff, it became more obvious that while he was most definitely searching in this area, he hadn¡¯t any specific idea of where she was.


    But why is he even looking over here?


    Then almost out loud, it hit her  ...


    When I was angry about mother in the cave ... but, how did he hear me?


    This was the real evidence for her that the Cast were more capable than simply men with different clothing. She decided to be more careful and considered with her actions in future.


    Holding so still as to rival the rocks around her, she waited to see if the Soldier would lose interest or come closer and make his way toward her.


    As he came a little closer, she could make out the smell of blood on him. He had hurt someone. For a moment, fear took hold of her. She twisted as if to run, but then she felt a small stone just under her foot. If she moved now, it would fall and strike the wider rocks as the other did. It would be as though she had called out to him.


    Summoning breath and calming her pulse, she stayed in place and watched as the Soldier¡¯s frustration got the better of him and he turned back toward the Village. As he did so, she could see the different shimmer come from his clothing.


    Not the same cloth.


    The garb of the Soldiers was far denser than any of the cloth she wore. The weapon, the strength, the hearing, and now even the cloth that made up their uniform ...


    How are they so different from us?


    With the Soldier now withdrawing, Fawn saw an opportunity to make her way further down the hill, across and up into the Village, driven on by the pang in her stomach from the days of high exertion and strain with no food.


    Deciding to move came with a new concern, that her scent was also detectable. Just as the thought gave her pause, the small stone poised under foot made its escape, just out of reach of her hand. It fell ... announcing itself against the rock beneath. She held her breath, uncertain if he had heard her.


    His pace hadn¡¯t changed, perhaps she had gotten away with it ... this time. She would need to place her feet more gently in future. She had no idea what she could do if he had come after her, as she had no combat advantages to wield. Taking great care to place her feet with all intention and no casual incident, she continued to carefully head towards the Village.


    The Soldier she was following had seemed to lose interest in continuing his search. She was at this moment, a little grateful for the fortune of her day, regardless of the precarious situation she found herself in. She had seen chance lean her way just a bit.


    As she approached the dusty buildings that made up this rustic Village, the ever-present worry of the Cast Soldiers crossing her path at any moment became more pointed than ever.


    She felt the sharp nails of prejudice within the Village, ever waiting to make an example of her. Those who stood so idle, while her brothers walked every day to their demise, were not people she could turn to for friendship, support or shelter.


    Eyes clear, ears open, stay on guard, no mistakes.


    Rounding the first building, she found there was little to no light in the pathway. The Oil Brush had not been replenished in the outdoor lanterns.


    Someone must be keeping the streets dark, or is just foolish and forgot.


    Darkness worked as her collaborator, and she was able to move easily from shadow to shadow, never once meeting the light that came from the crude house windows, and public building doors.


    Inside one of the larger, empty buildings, which looked like animal housing or storage, there were a few villagers gathering in a small circle: rough, tawny looking, exhausted and angry.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 10: Truth

    Truth


    Fawn slowly moved in a little closer, through a broken board hole, concealing herself in the darkened corner of a crude rafter to hear what they were conversing about. The words came through clearly, as though she hadn¡¯t heard anything like it before.


    The start and stop of each word thumped and landed heavy on her ears, making the task of listening something she would only tolerate for the bare minimum of time. What she could manage to listen to made the group¡¯s meaning all too clear. She heard them mumbling.


    ¡°She has to be found, a defiance like this cannot stand, and the Cast will take it out on us. I won¡¯t have that, she¡¯s just a dirty, horrid, Girl Child. I will turn her in as soon as I can, maybe after I have my own fun with her.¡±


    The angry looking older man speaking gave Fawn an awful feeling. She could smell him from where she was hidden, a sour and musky smell. She couldn¡¯t make sense of it. This was not an odor she had encountered before and the effect on her was significant. She had to repress a gag as he moved around and waved his arms.


    One of the women in the group seemed to take exception to something he said. Her face contorted into a look of disgust and judgment.


    ¡°You would say something like that Bez, you Creton. We have enough of Breeding Play forced on us by the Cast, we need no more from the likes of you!¡±


    What did he mean by fun?


    Fawn was still under informed in life, but was catching up quickly. She had heard of the Breeding Play that women were forced to participate in, although she had no idea what any of that meant. Even so, the tone of the older pungent male had certainly confirmed that she had no want to find out what it was.


    Next, a younger man spoke up.


    ¡°I think we should just bring her back for the Cast to play with, imagine the reward they would grant us!¡±


    He seemed pleased with himself, as though he had already been rewarded.


    The woman retaliated.


    ¡°Do you know what they will do to that little girl, do you?!¡±


    She seemed somewhat concerned about the fate they were discussing.


    ¡°They will hang her, no doubt, but they will most certainly play with her first until she is wounded and bleeding. They care not for her age ... have you seen a Girl Child hung? Have you?!¡±


    The rest of the group were surprised at her reaction. Her partner stepped toward her.


    ¡°Shush now Lil, this is not the time nor place to protest the ways of our home.¡±


    He took her arm firmly and pulled her back from the circle, intent on making her quiet.


    Although she had tears in her eyes, Lil took a deep breath.


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    ¡°I know we have to hand her in, we will all suffer if we don¡¯t but ... we need not enjoy the action.¡±


    She finished looking at the two men who had spoken and aroused her thorough distaste.


    Finally, the previously silent male spoke, his voice slow and deliberate, his hair longer than the others and tied in a braid down his bare back, evident as he turned and paced. His body was well developed, the muscles of his arms and back clearly those of a combatant, his face that of a strong believer and eyes pin focused, those of a hunter.


    ¡°Listen to me. We must find and deliver her, but nowhere does it suggest that we must force her to Breeding Play, nor should we expect anything in return for her delivery.¡±


    He was staring intently at the two males who spoke first. The older, foul smelling one bowed his head and stepped back, while the younger one grew an angry, indignant look.


    ¡°You are not my director, I shall want as I please, and I will absolutely take playtime from her body if I feel like it. You cannot stop me.¡±


    He steps forward and reveals a razor knife, not unlike the one Fawn is still carrying.


    Suddenly, the more composed of the males tries to intervene.


    ¡°Jund! No! You know the heritage of the Ohun Clan, he will wound you, maybe worse.¡±


    The long-haired Hunter steps toward the man called Jund.


    ¡°One chance I will give you, otherwise your regret is not my concern.¡±


    Jund draws himself up.


    ¡°No. I give YOU one chance otherwise ... I will take your family girls for my own playtime. Now step back!¡±


    The Ohun develops a darkened look to him, as if the words threatening his girl children fell directly from the knife brandished by Jund. He steps further forward.


    ¡°No ... further ... chances.¡±


    Jund lunges at him, all intent to stab the razor knife through the Hunter''s heart, but the move falls short: poorly timed and badly aimed.


    Lil covers her eyes.


    ¡°Oh no ... ¡±


    The knife misses its mark as the Ohun slips from where he was, to where he needs to be in one flawless step.


    He is outside Jund¡¯s right hand now, and with enough swift accuracy as to cause immediate horror in Jund¡¯s eyes, he ignores the knife and simply reaches behind the weaker man, and holds his right shoulder blade.


    The now terrified Jund is held fast, preventing him from moving his weapon-arm anymore.


    Jund wails as he feels the fingertips of the Ohun tear into the skin on his back. He desperately tries to move himself away, then he feels another hand at his rib cage.


    With slow extraordinary power, the Ohun grasps his lowest rib, and gradually pulls it outward, cracking cartilage and bone beneath his skin, with terrible purpose.


    Jund screams as he feels his body being torn, its every part clenching and wrenching away to try to preserve itself.


    ¡°Please! I¡¯ll give you¡ª¡±


    The Ohun replies with nothing, and reaches for the next rib, slowly taking hold of it as the blood pools under Jund¡¯s skin and turns the whole area a darkened red.


    Another scream rattles out of Jund as he feels his ribs snapping like green branches against the force of the Ohun. His shoulder blade comes away from its joint as he flails in abject desperation to escape, to no avail.


    Jund is screaming in a constant sound of horrendous gargling, building in volume as the blood pool beneath his flesh grows large enough to obstruct his lungs.


    His expression is now one of sorrow, desperation and pleading.


    ¡°Mother! Help me!¡±


    Finally, the Ohun reaches a third rib and begins to drag it from its rightful place, slowly outward alongside the others.


    Jund¡¯s voice is an ear-splitting gargling scraping sound, with only a mixture of ¡®please!¡¯ and ¡®mother!¡¯ discernible.


    As the third rib comes out to match the other distorted bones of Jund¡¯s torso, the Ohun looks at him directly and grasps it, snapping it with his thumb, finally tearing it through the skin¡ªspilling blood and marrow out through the grievous wound.


    While Jund makes final, frantic efforts to prevent it, the Ohun forces the broken bone back through muscle, tissue and lung, into the desperate, crying man¡¯s heart. Not enough to stop the heart immediately¨C¨Cjust enough to lacerate it awfully.


    The unbelievable pain takes over Jund¡¯s senses. However, because he is being held and constantly shaken, horrifyingly, he does not pass out.


    His unintelligible, bloodcurdling screams continue as his body bleeds to death.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 11: Witness

    Witness


    Having suddenly seen things go from a minor disagreement to a violent death, little Fawn was absolutely aghast. She had seen her brothers die over time, and she had even watched her mother perish, but this was the first time she had ever actually witnessed the brutal slaying of one man by another, and over such a small thing.


    She knew there was no way that she wanted to be caught and toyed with by the man who now was dead, but she was still a child after all ... and the thought of killing him for something he had considered, but not actually done, was something she could not imagine. Still though, the experience of watching as one man destroyed another was something she dearly would have avoided if she could have, and it left her truly shaken.


    What to do now was the real trouble. A feeling of dread, expanded across her in a very real way, that included the people of the Village¡ªjust as much as the all-terminating hand of the Cast Soldiers.


    For a moment, a feeling twisted in her stomach. The isolation, true isolation of someone who was considered a pariah by all, takes over, leaving her with a crushing mass. She felt the world both stretching away from her as well as closing in.


    There is ... no one  ...  no people that will help me. I miss kind words  ...


    She sobbed silently against the backdrop of emptiness. Her last hope drifted away amid a blackened fog.


    Bez, Lil, and Tren were shaking from the shock of what happened to their acquaintance.


    ¡°Theor!¡±


    Lil was in shock.


    ¡°Why would you do such a thing?¡±


    The Ohun turned to her with heartless eyes.


    ¡°He threatened my girl children, there is no surviving that. If I had left him, he would have come for my littlest one, she is the most beautiful. Then I would have had to break him in front of her. This way, he won¡¯t come, she won¡¯t have to see what happens, and I won¡¯t have to concern myself with shielding her while I¡¯m away hunting with the others. There was no other way.¡±


    Lil, still not convinced, carried on.


    ¡°I understand he had to die, but why in the manner of the Heretics? Why not a simple death? He had not yet committed any crime against you.¡±


    Theor¡ªnow amassing irritation due to the questioning¡ªstepped forward toward Lil.


    ¡°HE THREATENED MY CHILDREN!¡±


    Tren quickly moved in front of her.


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    ¡°Calm, Theor, calm. She meant nothing by it, she simply has never seen the Heretic¡¯s Death before. I understand your protection of the family.¡±


    Theor settled, glancing around the empty room with the blood from his would-be assassin soaking into the ground.


    ¡°Mind yourselves, none of us is the top of the food chain here, but I will not tolerate any threats. The Ohun Clan feed you, I hope you all remember that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we do.¡±


    ¡°Now we all need to ...  ¡±


    Theor abruptly knelt down.


    The strong smell Fawn knew so well now, permeated the air. A Cast Soldier came in through the open barn door. The group froze.


    He spoke with a cold and terrifying steadiness.


    ¡°What are you all doing? And why is there a dead Dust Cloth on the ground?¡±


    There was no emotive distinction between a question about the gathering, and his inquiring about the dead man at his feet. He drew his blade, the sound made all in the barn quake with fear.


    Fawn, still sitting in her darkened, elevated hiding space, took her stillness to a new level, and slowed her breathing to ease the chance she might make any sound.


    Theor lifted his head from his kneeling position.


    ¡°The dead man is my doing. He was warned more than once, and he was foolish enough to threaten my family. He warranted the Heretic¡¯s Death.¡±


    With that, he bowed his head back down and resumed kneeling motionless.


    As the Cast Soldier heard the news from Theor, he did nothing to acknowledge the unfortunate corpse crumpled at his feet, but instead looked directly at Theor.


    ¡°You were not given permission to administer the Heretic¡¯s Death. It will cost you your family¡¯s portion of the hunt food this period.¡±


    Theor lurches forward in an oppositional fashion.


    ¡°But that will¡ª¡±


    The Cast Soldier snaps his weapon hand and severs Theor¡¯s right ear with such ease that the ear just falls off, as though it were never attached in the first place. The shock from the loss doesn¡¯t even have time to set in before the Cast Soldier starts to speak again as if nothing has happened.


    ¡°You are all alive and intact as we see fit. Question nothing, and never challenge us. You have received a very light punishment, Ohun. Make no further movements or I will admonish you further.¡±


    Theor held his breath to keep from gasping or retaliating in any way. He was of an extremely powerful lineage of the hunters, but he was no more a match for the Cast Soldier than a house kitten for an adult panther.


    Seeing all this unfold, the remaining villagers were stricken with silence and frozen in place, each of them taut, and hoping with all desperation that the Soldier didn¡¯t turn his attention to them for any reason¡ªor worse yet¡ªmaybe the noise would attract the attention of an Officer, and that would bring with it a new threat entirely.


    Praying for respite from the demonic cruelty of the Cast Soldier in front of them, they struggled to contain their dread, all the time pressing their lips together, trying not to mumble, as that would bring punitive measures as well.


    Fawn was working her utmost to come to terms with all the awful things she had seen and suffered since the loss of her family. Her pain and suffering were wearing her down. She strained to hold her eyes closed¡ªshe¡¯d seen too much already. Desperate to hold back the tears welling in her eyes, her face tightened.


    Why is everything so scary and horrible?


    With all the strength she had left, she held her little body quiet and still. Tears of fear and misery began streaming down her face.


    Watching the other villagers quake and drip the fluids of their accumulated terror onto the now-disgusting dirt floor, was enough for her to understand why they would turn her in immediately, given the chance. She saw they could only cope with so much, and she would most definitely represent a reprieve from their endless trepidation.


    It was clear now, she could let none know of her presence, and she must keep extra distance from the Ohun¡ªthey seem to be bred to be dangerous. The unsavory idea that many of the males would seek her out for Breeding Play was additionally nauseating. The whole concept remained a foreign thing to her, but no matter how she heard it come up, there was no doubt that it would be an unpleasant experience.


    The one they called ¡®Ohun¡¯ killed that man awfully just because he threatened other little girls ... he didn¡¯t even do anything yet. He must have planned something horrid.


    She watched as the irritable Cast Soldier looked over the other quaking villagers, his orange-rimmed eyes flickering with the extraordinary danger they represented.


    Finally, he moved away from the cowering group, slowly at first, then suddenly, like a hunting reptile. He was gone in a swift intense motion, covering a lot more ground than one would normally expect for a person.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 12: The Monster

    The Monster


    Fawn finally released her breath and started to let her body relax. They had no idea she was there watching the truth of things. The Soldier moved on without any suspicion of her, which was a great blessing.


    She watched the traumatized people make their way out of the building, each somewhat supporting the other while talking softly about the disastrous experience they had just gone through.


    Theor, still sitting on the floor, was now pressing his severed ear against the open wound on the side of his head. Yet, he seemed more perturbed by the coming lack of food for his family than the ear he had to hold in his hand.


    Fawn found herself wondering what the real meaning of having his family cut out of the Hunters¡¯ food provisions was, but the thought was fleeting. She was not in a position to worry about the welfare of those who would commit her to death.


    As she moved out of her rafter hiding space, things had calmed down a bit, and moving safely from the elevated position began to feel like less of a death sentence.


    Slowly and very carefully she slid away from the relative safety of her hiding place.


    There was a feeling of tension in the air, almost as though the people she had been watching had left behind fragments of their sorrow. She could smell them so clearly¡ªblood, dust, sweat ... and something else.


    Oh! Someone ... couldn¡¯t hold it.


    She quickly felt grateful that she had not done so herself, there were plenty of reasons for that kind of fear just tonight alone. She was pleased to have gone to the trouble of concealing her own evacuations. There was no doubt that urine was a strong smell, and she clearly worried that if she could detect it at distance, then surely the Cast could.


    Quickly, she moved away from the pungent and revealing combination of odors, to mask herself against the dusty darkness of her surroundings.


    The hunger-needle piercing her stomach was becoming so intense that she would soon have nothing more than curling up on the ground and whimpering to look forward to. She would have to find food one way or another.


    The dark was providing good shielding from the risks of the Village. The sporadic Oil Brush lights threw thick shadows, telling her who was where, and in some cases, whether they were heading out of their homes.


    Fawn knew that there would be very few who would risk leaving their home at this time. The Cast were always more numerous at night and, like the small gathering had discovered, they were without any empathetic moments. The Cast were filled to their edges with hatred just for the inconvenience of interaction with others. Wounding and killing people without any due process was, in all ways, normality.


    Thankfully the atmosphere of martial law in the Village meant that there were not going to be random encounters in the streets. But most of the homes were filled with prying eyes and obsessive ears, just waiting to be the ones to hand her over in foolish hope for the good graces of the Cast in return.


    Her mother had wanted to make the same move. With equal parts of sadness and anger, her mind swam.


    I wish people didn¡¯t think killing me would make their lives better.


    Her willingness to steal what she needed was now taking priority.


    After slinking past a few homes like a nocturnal prey animal keeping from the grasp of talons, she saw one that had no light burning in the window. She moved closer ... no sound either.


    Concentrating her focus on an open window, she tried to see if she could find the same shimmering information she had found before among the rocks. Her determination was well rewarded. Eventually, she was able to see through the window and into the home. It appeared empty, she could hear no sound and see no movement.


    Now it was starting to feel like there was nothing but razor blades in her stomach, so her drive was as strong as she had ever felt. With all the difficulties she had faced in her life, starving had never been one of them.


    Moving faster than she should across the dirt towards the empty house, she started to hope that there was something good to eat within.


    But at this point, anything edible would be welcome¡ªeven that terrible green vegetable she used to be forced to eat.


    As she approached the house, she was suddenly stricken with the reality that she faced. If someone found her, she would have very few options.


    Taking the last few steps up to the door, she tried the handle. It was locked. She had yet to remember that people were protective of what they had.


    Laughing to herself about the foolishness of even trying to go in through the front door, she moved around the side of the house and worked her way towards the window space.


    Given that like her own home, it had no pane, but rather just a rough-cut opening with a poorly secured shutter, the task of climbing inside was an easy one for a nimble youth. Remaining prepared the whole time, however, was less simple with so many variables. People might come from anywhere; those who lived here might return at any moment.


    With no real certainty, she kept on and found herself inside one of the sleeping rooms. This home was bigger than her own: there was a hallway and space for sleeping rooms along it. The space she landed in was indeed empty as she had gathered.


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    She breathed an audible sigh of relief, the first sound she had allowed herself to make since leaving her cave. It was calming in itself to be allowed a moment of the ordinary.


    Passing from the sleeping room she landed in and onward to the hallway, she noticed a slightly sweet smell in the air. The fragrance passed as she moved down the hall toward the food preparation and storage area.


    Frantically, she started looking everywhere for portable food, anything she could use to ease the ferocious cramping of her poor stomach.


    Finally, she found some dried meat hanging in the back of a small cellar, dug out to protect food from the high heat.


    Grabbing initially at handfuls, she realized how obvious it would be to those who own it if there was too much missing. With meaningful regret, she took a small amount from the reverse side of each hanging batch, and stowed it in the folds of her clothing.


    Sitting in the bottom of the cellar hole, chewing on the dried spoils she had found, she finally started to feel like a child again, rather than a desperate survivalist.


    It was nice to be somewhere truly sheltered for a change, although the feeling of apprehension was starting to creep in and take over¡ªshe had been still for too long now.


    After one last search for something resembling childhood candy, she decided to move on and take what she had.


    Carefully managed, it would see her through a few days, perhaps long enough to think of some other way to feed herself. This petty thievery was clearly going to become more dangerous than practical as time went on.


    Walking gently back along the hallway, she caught that same sweet smell, and yet she was certain it did not come from the food preparation area. Curiosity was beginning to take over from prudence.


    Then in an instant, a cold feeling starting in her feet began to creep up her legs. By the time it had reached her now-satiated stomach, she knew what it was. All at once she truly recognized the smell, it was soap ... the soap her mother used to clean her when she was a little child.


    There must be a baby here or a¡ª


    Her understanding came a moment too late.


    A petrified little boy emerged from one of the rooms having heard her movement. Smaller than her, no more than four cycles old, his face white and little fists clenched so tight all the blood had left his tiny fingers, he was clearly drawing breath to scream.


    In one step, she crosses the distance between them, grasps both his hands in one of hers, and quickly covers his mouth.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t make any noise.¡±


    Hoping so much that he will listen and understand, she takes the desperate chance that the little boy has not yet formed his own prejudice.


    In a world so clearly defined by its extreme laws and punishments, she wants so badly for him to understand her predicament and let her move on. She hopes to go unfettered, out and away into the darkness, to be nothing more than a momentary shock for him. Maybe just this once ... it all seems impossible, but she has to try.


    Slowly, she removes her hand from his mouth, speaking as gently as she can.


    ¡°I promise I won¡¯t hurt you. I¡¯m just starving.¡±


    With tears growing in her eyes, her voice begins to quake.


    ¡°Please understand.¡±


    His eyes are wide; his breath frantic. The sweet smell of baby soap is being slowly replaced in her nostrils with the odor of sweat, and a building smell of something she is learning to recognize as fear.


    Still for a moment, he looks at her with his dark-brown eyes, as if in pity or consideration. Fawn draws a slow breath and feels a small inkling of hope start to build.


    Without warning the little boy realizes who has caught him.


    ¡°The girwl!¡±


    As a look of recognition dawns across his face, he immediately draws a larger breath.


    Fawn grasps his face again, sobbing.


    ¡°Pl ... please just let me leave ... ¡±


    The boy frantically struggles to get her hand from his mouth. She has never been the bigger or stronger one before and now she is for the first time, and it leads only to the restraint of a smaller child.


    She wants so badly to let him go. She knows what it¡¯s like to be so terrified, and hates that she herself is now the hand of oppression.


    I can¡¯t hold him like this forever. Maybe I can talk him into silence. Maybe I can take him with me, or umm oh ... what do I do?!


    As she thinks, the little boy becomes more and more distressed. He¡¯s exhausted from struggling so hard to no avail. The initial shock is wearing off, being replaced by mounting anxiety. His heart racing, his whole body strains from the stress.


    After a moment¡¯s thought, she drags him to the window she came in through, looking outside to see if there is anyone around.


    If I can just get away from the house maybe ... but, but tomorrow he¡¯ll tell people.


    Her thoughts becoming desperate, she turns and looks into his gentle eyes¡ªnow so filled with dread¡ªan awful feeling swirling in her heart from hurting such a young child.


    She removes her hand from his mouth to try again to entreat him to understanding. As she does, he gasps and heaves, crying as he begins to fall to the floor.


    She catches him.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡±


    His crying suddenly takes less of her attention. She can hear something  ...


    ¡°No! ... ¡±


    Turning to the shaking child, she brings her hand quickly to her lips.


    ¡°Shhhh. Please just shhh and I¡¯ll go away.¡±


    People passing by on the paths between houses are getting too close. His eyes flick to the window and he begins to make the noise she fears so much.


    ¡°MA¡ª!¡±


    Within a breath, she covers his mouth again. Tighter this time, making certain no sound leaks out. He struggles and fights her, but it means nothing.


    Waiting for the people to go by, he manages to writhe around enough to knock against a small table. One of them looks towards the noise as they walk past, just a perfunctory glance, but all the same, Fawn is suddenly caught in horror.


    What if they find me? Those people. That man ... the, the¡ª


    Her thoughts get the best of her, all that she has seen comes rushing back. She holds the flailing little boy with a hand at the back of his head to keep him from too much movement.


    Her pulse now makes every other sound fade into the distance as she focuses all her acuity on the group shuffling past. No other sound matters other than that of the movements outside. Not the restrained rattling of the child in her hands, not the wind in the distance, not anything.


    Such is her focus on searching for specific sounds outside, that she misses the sharp pop that comes from the face of the small panic-stricken child in her grasp, as his little jaw gives out.


    So, when his screaming starts anew, her frantic hold on him continues and tightens, fueled by her fear that he is again trying to alert others.


    She doesn¡¯t know that it¡¯s the result of a small boy who is in the most excruciating pain of his life. All she knows is that he is still making dangerous noises ... and so holds him harder still. Her strength makes it impossible for him to move or fight her force and singular focus.


    Her obsession is so narrow, that the slow, hollow cracking sounds, that come in three terrible notes from the little head she holds, go unnoticed as well ... until the boy falls limp and lifeless in her arms.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 13: Second Kill

    Second Kill


    OH, GODS ... NO!


    She felt him collapse and dangle like heavy rope tied to a bag of sand. He was nothing more than a weight in her hands.


    ¡° ... he¡¯s dead!¡±


    Her voice was a rasping whisper. The threat of being heard was still very real, but the people she saw had simply gone past without a second thought. Her determination to keep him quiet had been a success, but at the most appalling price¡ªone she could not have imagined paying if she had spent all her life trying.


    ¡°What have I done? ... The baby, oh no please ... ¡±


    Her legs folded under her as though they had never worked, as the horror of what she had caused swept over her. There was no thought she could find to make herself feel any better.


    What would Ikan and Eris say? ... I¡¯m the monster ... Oh, they would stop loving me. I¡¯m sure of it.


    Her thoughts were bringing her further down each heartbeat, and she couldn¡¯t form any reprieve.


    Finally, the pain behind her eyes felt like it had reached a summit. She looked down to see the torrent of her sorrow pouring onto the small boy¡¯s broken face, a type of sadness she had never felt before.


    Tension was building in her body and felt as though it would consume her entirely: no number of tears would ever clear her mind of this anguish. Somehow, she knew already that this feeling would travel with her forever.


    As weakness overtook her, she dropped to the floor with the boy still in hand. She couldn¡¯t bring herself to place him down. She tried with such despair to slide him from the unyielding grip that killed him, into a cuddle.


    No matter what she did, she couldn¡¯t get his little body to stay where she could cradle him. The misery of not being able to hold him was so powerful she began to strain to breathe, as though the child¡¯s weight were connected to her lungs directly.


    Finally, she let him fall to the ground, and curled around him in convulsions of panicked breath, regret and anguish: her tears soaking the dirt around him like the moisture of a light rain.


    A sharp twitch woke her from a troubled restlessness. The realization struck her like a rock to her temple, and she looked around frantically, nervous that she had slept into daylight. Once she saw it was still very dark, a moment of relief set in, but it was quickly broken as the smell of children¡¯s soap crossed her senses.


    Poor little boy ... I ... I¡¯m so sorry ... I¡ª


    The feelings started again as she knelt next to the body, staring in disbelief. Time was working against her¡ªnow more than ever.


    She slowly stood, gathered the boy and carried him to the next room, where she had decided he came from, and placed him under the covers of his bedroll. Pulling the covers over his broken body, she kissed him on the cheek.


    ¡°I ... I ... ¡±


    She tried to find words, but had none. The child was gone now and it was her doing. There were no words she could find that would force that to change.


    She drew the back of her hand gently across the soft skin of his cheek, blackened and bruised though it was, and sobbed, grasping at her eyes to try and stem the tide of fresh tears she felt growing.


    Pressing her face so hard that it felt like she might break a bone, she managed to stop her tears long enough to stand and gather herself, driven by the thought that his sacrifice would be even more wasteful if she were to get caught.


    Mustering her strength, she gathered her menial food supplies, which now felt like the most expensive sustenance she would ever have. Regardless of how awful she felt, she was still very hungry, and nothing good would come of her starvation either.


    As she started to move, she came to consider her original reason for not taking too much. It now seemed pointless, as there would be no hiding that she had been here. She went to the cellar and took all she could carry, quickly fashioning a sling from a cloth she found on the table.


    Feelings of self-disgust quickly consumed her, coming and going relentlessly as she came to terms with having killed these people¡¯s baby, as well as stealing their food stores. Sickness accumulated in her stomach from the actions she had taken. Feeling like nothing better than a murderer and thief, while still hungrier than she had ever been in her life, the concoction was truly devastating.


    With courage returning and self-hatred building in her mind, she made her way out the window, and away from the home.


    Glancing back as she went, she knew it was now a place that held worse memories for her than even that of her own home¡ªas this time, she had no one to hate but herself.


    Moving back through the Village was easier for her in the sense of safety, but much harder on her spirit than the journey down, having been only such a short time ago, it felt like a whole life had gone by.


    As she passed by a point where she had stopped on the way in, she looked up to see the Oil Brush light she had been watching while she had recalled her brother making sweet mash. The thought sat in her mind like a shard of light that she could no longer enjoy¡ªon her way down she was a good girl, who Ikan had loved, and now she was a horrid monster who kills children.


    She could barely hold the weight of the thought, and it caused her to stumble. How she longed for the time when she felt like a loved little girl, and not this miserable vermin who caused the death of all close to her.


    In a poor state, she kept moving, more driven by a sense of melancholy than any of the exuberance that may have propelled her into the Village for food. All the same, she moved at a good pace now, and being as naturally prone to stealth movement as she had become, she went without any further obstruction or incident: out, and away, from civilization.


    She felt the presence of the Village behind her like the looming shadow of a fearsome carnivore waiting to strike, made ravenous by her mistakes and immaturity: voracious, and with infinite patience.


    The feeling of pressure started to ebb once she was far enough away from the Village to see its light as a distant haze. She was glad of the space to rest once she scaled the Razors again.


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    Enjoying the taste of dried, salty meat on her tongue, and the feel of gentle, cool water from the moss in her throat, was the closest she had come to comfort since she left her home. Curling up in her cave felt like the only thing she had chosen with certainty in such a long time.


    The touch of cold stone under her side eased her pained body as she lay down. After such exhaustion, and so much turmoil, a deep and total slumber silently took her off through the night, and onward into the day.


    A noise¡ªa new noise¡ªwoke her. A grinding, like two large, heavy stones sliding against each other, but with a different, more organic sound beneath it, and a slow purposed click behind it. This was something she had never heard before. Wide awake and straining to hear the sound that woke her, she was sure that with the proper focus she could perceive it again.


    Moving through her little cave, she couldn¡¯t understand how such a large sound had come from such a small place, and the more she moved around, the more it became obvious that the cave was not the simple indent in the mountain that she had thought it was. Details were now more perceivable, and she could make out a crevice toward the rear of the cave¡ªa crack that led further back, not big enough for much, just enough for a curious girl.


    Squeezing her way through the small crevice, her eyes adjusted easily to the scale of the space, a large area, with various natural corridors branching off of it, and a high ceiling. There were marks on the walls and ceiling, some deep and short; others long and shallow.


    They had been made as if the stone was different and softer, but when she flicked a pebble at the wall¡ªthe way she had done with the rock outside¡ªit was clear that there was no difference in density. The whole cave was made of the same solid stone.


    Moving around the empty space revealed more caverns and off-shoots than she would have ever felt possible. Reaching out to one of the marks that was low enough for her to touch, she felt the contrast of rough edges at the opening of the cut from that of the surrounding material, and yet even more distinct was the finely detailed interior of the cut, as though it had been made by the sharpest of tools under tremendous force.


    Standing dead still and listening for any remnant of the sound that had roused her so suddenly from her rest, she heard nothing¡ªno shuffling or grinding, no sound of any kind. The cave itself was deathly quiet. She enjoyed the reverence and peace that it provided, and would have stayed if not for the concern about the unknown origin of the sound ... and the markings.


    Having no fear of the darkness, and seeing clearly, Fawn felt no rush to leave the shadows, but not knowing what she was looking at, or how it came to be, got the better of her and she sought the relative safety of the other side of the crack in the wall.


    Daylight was fading, as she had slept so long, but there was more to be gained from that than lost¡ªgiven her constant need to remain concealed. It was a welcome change to be able to come and go as she pleased, and at least for the duration of each night she would be able to do so without any real fear of discovery.


    Making her way outside to relieve herself, she looked up at the stars for the first time since she had run from her home. They were glittering and prominent like before, but unlike the stars of her sleeping-room window, they brought her no happiness, as though the light had gone from them and she was looking at a memory. The burden of both what had happened to her, and what she had done, was still too fresh to let her enjoy the light she used to value so much.


    As she made her way back to the cave, she heard a distant murmur coming from the direction of the Village. She stopped and sat down, waiting to see what she could through the haze and distance. There was a faint, but clear, light flickering and wavering its way outward from the Village, and loosely in the direction that could be her cave.


    She felt her stomach fall, and all her muscles tighten.


    They must be looking for me!


    The why of it became unimportant as she saw the light grow stronger.


    ¡°Umm umm ... what do I do?¡±


    Returning to the cave as quickly as she could, she curled up in the back near the crevice that led further into the mountain.


    ¡°I can hide through here ... and ... and then, umm.¡±


    As she hid and waited for what she thought was forever, the group seemed to get no closer, their sounds were no louder, their smell no stronger. She crept her way outside to look, pulse racing¡ªthis was the first time people were coming to where she was, and may know her exact location.


    Looking outside she could see the light from the Village getting closer. She watched the moving light run parallel to her for some time and then waver in a loose pattern, made erratic by the craggy and hazardous rock formations that most of the villagers had no experience with.


    A sense of relief passed over her, as she saw the unfocused group fumble in their search, but there was no doubt in her mind that they were looking for her.


    With new fear mounting, she went back into the cave that was starting to feel like a safe place and made her way through the crack that led to the network further within the mountain.


    Lacking the courage to venture too far in, she loitered in one of the alcoves within the greater room. It felt familiar, like a quiet room in a friend¡¯s home, or a hiding place from a game played with friends.


    The low temperature helped ease her body, and without any dampness to the air it was easy to breathe. She soon found her anxiousness starting to fade.


    After listening for what felt like a lifetime and hearing nothing, it was becoming evident that they were not going to find her here¡ªat least not this night¡ªbut she would likely have to move soon, otherwise they would certainly find her eventually.


    It seemed the group narrowed their search much faster than she thought they would, given how careful she had consistently been.


    I need to go further away ... or maybe deeper inside? I don¡¯t know, I wish Eris was here.


    Her thoughts dissolved into grief again.


    He would know what to do, how to protect me  ...


    She sobbed as quietly as she could manage.


    In the hardened silence of the great cave, the noise of her empty stomach quaking was much louder than it should have been.


    ¡°Ow, my tummy.¡±


    There was no sign of anyone, so she made her way back through the crevice and over to where she had left her store of dried food.


    Sitting cross-legged, she felt the sleek, cold, stone surface under her thighs. The sensation was such a clear contradiction to the coarse dust of normality, that it brought her a moment of pleasantness. She leaned back against the wall behind her to enjoy the relief.


    The food was plain but the salt and protein were sorely needed, so even though there was little flavor to it, it truly tasted good. She tore at it with her sharp incisors, relished the chewy texture, and savored the mix of scents. She soaked in the odor of stone, her skin, the cloth she wore, the water in the moss and the different savory tones of the food she had paid so much for.


    Even the distinction between the dirt outside and the dust that blew in through the cave entrance was interesting. Easing herself further down the wall, she felt comfortable, and was grateful for the long nights of the planet, more so than ever before. She lay back and soaked in all around her one more time before getting ready for sleep.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 14: Hunted

    Hunted


    She awoke with a start and took a panicked breath.


    ¡°That noise ... I¡¯m sure I heard it again.¡±


    But there was nothing, no sign of the strange sound which had now woken her twice.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    The constricted breath of fear hampered her words. Holding as still as the cave itself, she listened for that odd and unsettling sound, but it was gone.


    Eventually releasing herself, she started to move outside to look around. It was still dark, but the light was showing its first interest in the day.


    She bowed her head and lifted her chest, taking a long, slow breath, trying to aim her hearing. She strained one more time to detect that unfamiliar sound¡ªfirst into the cave, then focusing on the outside, revealing the hard subtle rattle of stone-on-stone encroaching.


    ¡°No! They¡¯re here!¡±


    She gripped the ground with her feet. She wanted to scream for help, cry or cower.


    That won¡¯t save me  ...


    She gasped as her body started to react to the stress. She turned her feet, rising to her toes as she launched herself inside.


    How far away they were she did not know, but no matter what, there was no way she could evade or defeat them if she were caught, so she made for the back of the cave.


    They¡¯ll go away if they don¡¯t find me.


    She slid through the gap in the rock with such grace, it would have been fair to imagine it had always been her home. Curling tight against the alcove she had used before, she began to slow her breath and calm herself, reciting quietly.


    ¡°They won¡¯t find me. No one knows I¡¯m here.¡±


    Over and over, she worked to comfort herself. The sounds of angry footsteps drew closer¡ªthey were almost at the cave entrance. She was panting, trying with all she had to stay quiet.


    She could hear their words now. They were much closer than she ever thought they would get.


    Holding steady, she could only hope that those searching for her would lose interest when they found nothing. She felt confident that they would carry on soon enough, and was grateful for having a space to hide in. A moment of tension hit as she could clearly hear three separate voices, all male.


    One had a similar cold tone to the terrifying man with the braid. With renewed focus, she listened closely to the conversation they were having. The sound of one voice rattled around the cave.


    ¡°Little monster, this kid.¡±


    A second voice came through.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe they didn¡¯t skin her at the time, she was so defiant.¡±


    A third voice, cooler and less emotive than the others, took over.


    ¡°She was saved by her brothers, so the Cast considers punishment rendered and so should we. Watching over you two is wasting my time.¡±


    The first man chimed in again.


    ¡°Just help us find the critter so we can ... take her back, for punish¡ª¡±


    The distinctive third voice, now clearly belonging to one of the Hunters, cut him off.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so certain that she will be the only one who is punished if you do.¡±


    The other two men shuffled around at hearing the tone of his reminder.


    ¡°But, we just found her and¡ª¡±


    ¡°The Hunter is right, this will bring us nothing but attention from the Soldiers.¡±


    Fawn moved to the crack through which she had passed, to see what she could of the men arguing in her cave. They were dejected and annoyed looking, with only basic clothing on the two hunched, fatter men. The Hunter, a bigger, stronger man, had a much higher density to him. He was wearing a rustic looking sword at his side, and a metal-plated armor of some kind.


    The armor was affixed to a softer, lighter colored cloth than the others, much like the cloth Fawn had made her underwear from.


    After a few moments, the Hunter turned and started out of the cave.


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving. If you want protection from predators on the way back, you¡¯ll leave with me.¡±


    The other two men started to make their way out toward the Hunter, heads down, irritated disappointment on their faces. Moving out with eyes downcast, the last of them inadvertently caught something with his foot. Seeing something in the gathering light of the morning, he grabbed at the small item.


    ¡°Wait! This looks like meat!¡±


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    Fawn¡¯s heart sank.


    Oh Gods ... I¡¯m so stupid!


    The Hunter stopped, drawing his sword.


    ¡°Then she must be here somewhere.¡±


    He turned to the man closest to him.


    ¡°Bring in your hammer, she may be concealing herself.¡±


    Fawn watched him as he went back outside, stepped to the side of the entrance and retrieved a large hammer-weapon he had left against the outer edge of the cave.


    Frantically, she slid back to the alcove.


    Moving around the cave, the three men were fumbling in the low visibility, but it was getting easier for them to see with light slowly becoming more plentiful. As a ray of sunlight traveled across the back of the cave, it rolled and reflected against the different textures made by the craggy and broken rock shards strewn across the cave wall.


    The Hunter turned and watched the light move.


    ¡°There, on the back wall.¡±


    The other two looked to see what they could: their eyes were not as capable as that of the Hunter, but they could still make out the difference in textures.


    ¡°There¡¯s something different about that.¡±


    He pointed out what he could see for the others. The man with the hammer walked closer to the irregular wall the Hunter highlighted, and began tapping it to see if he could discern any variation in echo.


    Tik tik, tik tik ... tik, tik  ...


    ¡°Well, it looks different, but I can¡¯t find anything in¡ª¡±


    Fawn curled tighter in her space behind the wall as she heard the hammer noise stop, and a similar noise pick up, from what sounded like the ceiling.


    TIK ... TIK ... TIK  ...


    She tightened further.


    What is maki¨C?


    Outside in the fore-cave, the hammer-sporting Dust Cloth froze.


    ¡°I heard a sound.¡±


    The Hunter came back inside and stood beside him.


    ¡°What kind of sound?¡±


    TIK ... TIK  ...


    ¡°I hear it, there is definitely something behind this rock, it must be a thin sheet.¡±


    The third man stepped inside and stopped behind the Hunter.


    ¡°We can hear you, little Creton! We¡¯re coming for you!¡±


    Knocking his hammer again on the varied surface, there came the tonal change that he had been looking for: Tik ... tik ... tok.


    ¡°I found the thin point. Now you¡¯re in trouble, child¡ªI¡¯ve been looking forward to playing with you.¡±


    Fawn¡¯s calm resolve of silence finally gave way to her fears, with an audible squeaking sound escaping her teeth, one she had never made before. She knew there was no way she could hide from what was coming anymore, but she had no idea what to do instead.


    What¡¯s making the noise on the ceiling? Where do I go?


    With the corridors all too rough and hard for her to traverse quickly, the reality of her predicament was fast becoming overwhelming. Feeling her tears running off the side of her knees and down her shins, she began to feel as though she had done nothing but run, hide and cry since she last saw her brothers alive.


    As things gathered faster and faster in her mind, she could barely contain her shaking. Noise was mounting as the man with the hammer pounded on and on at the rock she so coveted to preserve her safety. Making the hole expand slowly, but steadily, he was creating a gap that would soon be large enough for all three angry men. These were dangerous pursuers¡ªfocused only on what they wanted to do to her.


    Like a clock of the most menacing nature, there came a sound from above, as soon as the hammering subsided.


    TIK! ... TIK! ... TIK! ...


    Louder and more purposeful this time, the sound increased in intensity.


    Standing behind the hammer-toting man and listening as it ebbed, the Hunter heard the sound from the deeper part of the cave.


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    His query went no further than the echo within his ears. The hammering began again, barely covering the various jeers and taunts coming from the two Dust Cloth men, eager to get to their hidden quarry.


    ¡°What is that noise?!¡±


    There is no response from the others.


    ¡°There has to be someone else in there who shields her.¡±


    Fawn, shaking uncontrollably, was trying to press herself into the wall of her alcove. In her desperation, she found herself looking up at the cave ceiling, trying to make sense of the mixture of noises she had heard. The ceiling seemed to move, but for all her efforts she could not make out anything discernible through the water in her eyes. A feeling of hopelessness quickly became all-encompassing.


    She could feel her legs had lost their strength and she couldn¡¯t find one clear thought.


    Finally, the shale layer gave way, and the first man was able to pass his arm through the hole and started pulling at it. Having been fractured so thoroughly by the constant hammering, it came away easily.


    Fawn started to squeak and squeal as the large, weathered hands came through the growing opening with increasing speed.


    First, the Hunter moved, pushing the other two out of the way.


    ¡°Have you not been listening?! There may be another in here with her, a traitorous supporter who may have set a trap.¡±


    He hit the remaining weakened wall with the pommel of his weapon, cracking away the last vestiges of what may have protected little Fawn from the mounting machinations of her pursuers. His efforts left only sharp jagged remnants around the opening, like the teeth of an immense stone carnivore.


    Having made the opening large enough to pass through, he stood at its threshold, looking into the darkness.


    The fat man, hammer-in-hand, tried to push by him.


    ¡°Me first, I broke the cursed wall, I want her first.¡±


    The Hunter stopped him cold with a strike from his elbow, forcing him backward.


    ¡°Hey! What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±


    The fat man was blurting and breathless.


    The Hunter turned and looked at him.


    ¡°Wait, you trash. What you want to do with her is not a priority¡ªNOW LISTEN!¡±


    The man staggered back begrudgingly as the Hunter tilted his head toward the opening.


    ¡°Whoever you are in there with the child criminal, reveal yourself and I will not cut your head from your shoulders. If you do not make yourself known, I shall visit upon you grievous wounds and deliver you to the Cast.¡±


    With clear fear in their eyes, the other men stepped back and waited. No villager had ever overmatched a Hunter in their lifetime, and these two did not want to be considered an inconvenience¡ªor Gods forbid¡ªdisrespectful. Both of them sidled together to exchange whispers.


    ¡°Stupid to risk angering the Hunter, they should just give her up.¡±


    Irritation took over, and the Hunter moved forward into the blackness.


    ¡°Very well, your life is forfeit, as is the child you guard.¡±


    He heard a diminutive sobbing sound coming from a small alcove toward the right rear of the cave.


    ¡°I can hear you child. You will be brought back to the Cast to receive punishment for further defiance.¡±


    Her sobbing turned to stricken crying as he moved towards his prize. Growing impatient, the other two men made their way in. Muttering about their various desires and designs for the cowering shadow they could just see, their focus narrowed further as they drew closer to her.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 15: The Veil

    The Veil


    Close enough now to see the details of the child, the Hunter sheathed his sword and made for her petite frame.


    Without any idea of what to do, Fawn simply began to repeat.


    ¡°No, no, no, no ... go away.¡±


    Through tears of desperation, a feeling of hopelessness started to take over. With nowhere to run, and no way to defend herself, she screamed and thrashed as the Hunter got closer.


    Behind her scream, Fawn heard a noise: the sound that had woken her more than once.


    This time it was much louder, much closer ... an unmistakable resonance like two boulders sliding past each other, mixed strangely with a clicking report¡ªakin to metal striking metal under water.


    She tightened her body to its utmost, digging her fingers into her palms hard enough to draw blood, her shoulder pressed against the rock so hard it began to visibly bruise.


    The oh-so specific sound rumbled through the empty space.


    CLUNK ... CLUNK ... CLUNK.


    The shadow she had tried so hard to define against the ceiling earlier, became distinct in its movement.


    Her blood froze, she had no more screams left to utter: she just stared at the huge, moving shade, eyes stretched to their utmost.


    As the sound rolled around the cave, the two roughly clad men stopped moving.


    ¡°What?¡±


    The Hunter, mouth dropping wide, turns on just one foot. Scraping all possible air into his lungs, he frantically launches himself back toward the opening he only just came through.


    ¡°A VEIL!¡±


    He screams as though his manhood were being torn from the inside. The ear-splitting refraction of his bellowing rattles about the cavern as his every movement is committed to the exit path.


    Before the men or Fawn can possibly come to terms with what is happening, there comes a silken movement from the ceiling.


    In one swift pass, an enormous claw rends the Hunter¡¯s arm from his body almost entirely, a few threads of flesh and sinew holding hopelessly to the limb. The claw cleaves armor, cloth, flesh and bone all at once, as though they present no resistance.


    The Hunter screams and falls to the floor, face down.


    His sound is borne more of terror than pain. As he continues his frenetic scrambling for the broken wall, a great foot descends and pierces one of its claws into the panicking man¡¯s calf, passing on through his shin bone. Then, as the creature adds force, the claw continues right into the very stone floor itself, as if it were no more solid than wet dirt.


    The two harrowed men that followed now watch, with no idea how to contend with what they see. They have always seen the Hunter as a powerful force to be feared, and yet now he is little more than fodder for a creature they have only heard of in stories.


    ¡°Help me! I can¡¯t move!¡±


    In a flash the other two traverse the cave floor in one hurried movement. One of them makes a poorly conceived, half effort to help the prone man, as he bleeds profusely from his wounds. His attempt to grasp at the Hunter¡¯s intact hand is met with immediate failure as the creature moves its quarry from reach. The other man frantically leaps for the exit point.


    As he does so, the creature makes a slight adjustment in the shadow and throws something from the rear of its body. The large, barbed, bone-shard looking tip of its tail comes tearing through the dark, and shreds the running man¡¯s knee. He¡¯s hit with such precision as to separate the kneecap from its bedded cartilage.


    Retracting its tail, the creature turns its attention to the one who tried to reach the Hunter pinned under its foot. Another massive hand emerges from the darkness to snatch the petrified man into its grasp¡ªits clawed fingers long enough to take position at either side of his chest.


    The villager begins to screech hopelessly as the claws slowly make their way into his sides with methodical persistence. His wounds happen so gradually, yet with such inevitability, his strained, defensive movements change nothing.


    Once his convulsing body begins to cough blood, the creature dismissively drops him like rotting fruit.


    As the light from the expanded break in the wall passes over it, more of the creature¡¯s form becomes visible.


    Removing its second foot from its inverted position on the cave ceiling, and placing it lightly on the floor, the creature moves toward the man lying on the floor beside the shreds of his knee, now surrounded by a sickening mass of blood and vomit. There is a bubbling and curdling of the blood in his wound, a result of the strike from the creature¡¯s tail barb delivering a large quantity of a highly acidic natural element.


    As the crippled Dust Cloth tries to crawl away, his hands shaking and teeth clenching, he sees the face of what the Hunter called a ¡®Veil¡¯. Its skin is a blackened gray, with a deep and regular texture to it, like softened scales. Its eyes are silver ovals, with no evidence of pupil or iris, just vast and shadowed¡ªlike looking into a moving, darkened mirror.


    The pale, terrified man screams as it gets closer, madly struggling to move himself out into the light. It¡¯s hopeless: the Veil¡¯s powerful hand skewers the foot of his torn, fast-corroding leg. Paying no attention to the noise the man makes, the Veil moves its head closer and peels back its charcoal lips.


    Folding a large portion of skin away from its face, two distinct mandibles move separately from its jaw, come both down and outwards at once. It reveals deep, crimson gums and tightly packed, barbed teeth: row upon row, a visual replica of the coarse gathering of Razor Rocks outside the cave.


    It makes the sound again, the sound that had woken Fawn.


    Grinding, sliding, clacking.


    Now shrieking horribly, grasping for anything he can on the floor of the cave, the brutally injured man feels his hopes of rescue fade to nothing as the great creature takes up his kneecap and passes it to its mouth.


    The mass of teeth fall together and begin to press. A force so great and constant, that the crippled man must watch as his crucial piece of bone crumples into fragments. As the creature¡¯s jaw makes a sudden cross-movement, the fragments foam against its acidic mouth and are consumed.


    Watching a piece of his leg disappear into dust and dissolve against the gums of the Veil, takes his sanity. He covers his eyes and begins to howl like a child, scraping his hands at his face.


    With all three of its victims downed and disabled, the Veil turns its attention back to the Hunter, bleeding and scrambling on the floor. It makes the cracked rumble of its herald and reaches for the Hunter¡¯s nearly severed arm.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°NO ... No ... NO!¡±


    He yells at the wall, trying to get away from the creature¡¯s clutches.


    It collects the Hunter¡¯s arm, tearing what remains of the flesh and sinew that makes it part of his body. While holding him in place with its foot like a bird of prey, it slices and peels the meat from his arm, dropping it beside him.


    The Hunter, hopelessly secured face down, cannot see what the Veil has done with what was once his trusted right arm. He sees the flesh that once clad it slumped on the ground next to his head.


    Suddenly, a new sound begins. Through his searing and catastrophic suffering, the sound becomes clear. Cracking and grinding, sprinkled with the drips of caustic dissolution. A splinter of his radius bone falls beside his face, marrow spread across its surface.


    Desperately clawing at the ground and finding no purchase on the smooth surface, his memories of Veil savagery force him forward at all costs. Lucidity sliding away, he begins howling uncontrollably.


    The creature gradually turns its head to the second screaming man missing his knee. The corrosive effect in his blood now makes its way up his leg, peeling and bubbling his skin. Covering its apparent ear, the creature reaches its huge, clawed hand towards him.


    Turning him face up, it presses the claw of its thumb through the side of his temple, piercing his skull and forcing his eyes out of their sockets. His gargled screams of desperation finally stop.


    Having crushed the eyes from its perishing prey, the Veil gathers both of them off the cheeks of his gaunt face. It carefully eats them, as if a delicacy outside its daily fare.


    The cave rings only with the sound of the Hunter¡¯s mortal cries and¡ªdistant to their cacophony¡ªthe tiny sobs of Fawn.


    The Veil¡¯s attention passes to the shivering child in the alcove, as it makes a determined motion toward her.


    Taking the momentary distraction as an opportunity, the Hunter refocuses his efforts to escape. Finding some traction from a rough edge on the rock, he begins to crawl.


    His movement brings the creature back to him in a snap.


    Seemingly disinterested in the activities of the child, it simply ignores her and makes its presence known to the man on the floor¡ªstripping the flesh from his leg and consuming the bones¡ªits actions steadily accompanied by the fading screams of the tortured man. The creature seems persistently intent on creating immeasurable suffering for the Hunter. It continues to slice flesh from bone, working from his foot upwards to his hip.


    Its claws are micron fine in their edge, and flesh slides off the leg effortlessly. The Hunter¡¯s morose wailing eventually subsides, as his brutalized body fails. Finally, the savaged man¡¯s blood runs its last out across the cold cave floor.


    The creature pulls the bones from their place at the hip and passes them to the chemical grinder of its maw. Leaving nothing behind but torn tendons and sliced flesh, lying in collapsed shreds from the waist, where once there was a functioning body.


    After a moment, it moved itself with extraordinary fluidity across the floor of the cave toward the utterly petrified little girl, sitting curled, clutching tightly at her legs. Trying to be as invisible as possible, she kept herself still, only glancing up. Her face was hurting from clenching her eyes shut as tightly as she could manage.


    As it crossed the floor, the Veil scored the stone with its feet. Fawn felt its massive presence draw closer and closer, bringing with it, the unbelievable foulness of fresh blood and corroded bone. A heinous stomach-retching assault on her senses she had never encountered before, even in this world.


    As it came up to her, she felt it move its head down to her feet and draw air in through what must have been its nose.


    She shook and grimaced, tears pouring down her cheeks as the great animal passed its head up her body, so close, she could feel it disrupt the air around her.


    Tightening her grip on her knees and feeling the wetness pool underneath her, she now understood more clearly why the frightened villagers she had seen smelled the way they did.


    Becoming so desperate she could no longer keep herself together, she let out a scream driven by horror, confusion and anguish in the utmost.


    The Veil moved its head as her scream shattered the recent silence, motioning a hand to cover its exposed ear. It began a clicking sound: different this time¡ªfaster and lighter.


    Fawn covered her face with both hands, abandoning her legs which straightened and cramped awfully.


    Now thoroughly without control of bladder or bowel, she flailed frantically: the heinous screams and vivid horror of the last few moments ripping her mind apart. She imagined her own ghastly fate was soon to come.


    Still holding its hand over its ear, the large creature moved away slightly. It reached its free hand towards what it viewed as a small, soft animal writhing around on the floor.


    Slowly and with great accuracy, it scraped its claws across the floor, cutting swathes through the rock and passing under the child.


    Collecting her off the ground, it carried her upward as it scaled the wall with ease and capability.


    Fawn was not even able to react before she was already being moved across the ceiling like a trophy, or reserved food.


    The creature turned and skewered the body of the Hunter with its tail before making for the back of the cave.


    With ease, it pulled both her and the punctured torso, up and over an opening at the rearmost cave wall.


    Fawn was caught in the strange sway of the Veil¡¯s grip. It wasn¡¯t hurting her or pressing on her: she seemed to be held much like a man might hold a butterfly.


    As her emotions started to quiet, and her thoughts returned to her, there was little on her mind.


    I don¡¯t want to be food ...


    The smell was starting to fade, as the creature had finished eating for the time being. There was a clarity to the odor coming from it, as though it had been washed with a solvent of some sort.


    They were moving with significant pace across the ceilings¡ªcave after cave¡ªthrough long, natural corridors and large, open caverns. The network of underground space was vast and complex. There was much more to it than Fawn would ever have imagined.


    After a period of time, the persistent bouncing and shuddering in the grasp of the Veil began to feel almost familiar, and utter exhaustion took her into sleep.


    Waking slowly, Fawn started to see some vague outlines in the rock. She could hear a noise across the cavern from her.


    The Veil was there, moving slowly around the space, making gestures of organization. It was almost like it was attending to housekeeping tasks.


    Feeling grimy and uncomfortable, she lay still on the stone, trying to understand what her predicament was. Her mind went back to simple things for a moment.


    I wish I could wash. I feel awful.


    She sat up slowly and carefully, looking around to see if there was some way she could escape. She longed for the recent moment when she had some food, water, and felt like her little cave might be somewhat safe. Looking more closely at her body, there was no evidence of new injury or harm of any kind.


    She had not taken any superficial wounds from the unusual form of transport that had got her here. Whatever the intentions of the creature, it had not yet caused her any harm. This feeling was a very strange space for her to be in, as it had done such horrific damage to all the men pursuing her. It had become very apparent that she would have been in real danger in the hands of the men. She was strangely better off now with this animal, at least so far.


    Regardless though, the sight of what happened to them was written in her mind in indelible blood. She felt it would stay with her, for all her remaining cycles. The images were terrible when she reflected on them, but strangely comforting when she thought of what they had planned to do to her.


    This ... thing saved me, but why?


    She began to worry that her demise was only delayed, rather than entirely prevented.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 16: Warden

    Warden


    As she started to move around a little, there was a noted reaction from the other side of the cave. The Veil stopped and turned its head to face Fawn, it seemed to regard her slight wriggling with relative disinterest. It carried on with its odd pattern, moving parts of previous victims from one area of the cave to another.


    It appeared to be making an order of some kind. Its huge, dense body made a very imposing silhouette against the backdrop of the cave itself: moving like a swarm of snakes that had common purpose, its muscles and sinew rolling and sliding around under its thick hide. Its movements were effortless and fluid. Its claws were clicking fairly lightly on the stone floor as it moved around, leaving small inclusions on the smooth surface.


    Between Fawn and the Veil there was a pool, its water reflecting silver and dark gray in the low light leaking through distant cracks in deep rock. There were some stalagmites strewn about the edges, sitting matte and unreactive to the environment. In the far corner of the cave, on the same side as the Veil and furthest from Fawn, there was a crumpled mass of dark leather. There were some sharp, curved implements protruding from the pile, in a random way. Occasionally, the Veil would move itself to the pile, contemplate it for a moment, then go back to what it was doing.


    Fawn was growing very cold and feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Her skin felt grimy against the crude, dirty clothing she was still tolerating.


    She started moving slowly toward the strange pool. As she moved carefully down the light incline she was sitting on, it started to feel a little bit like she was just taking a bath in a pool, under a tree or something.


    As her feet lost grip on the incline, she rattled down the stony surface. Immediately, the Veil looked up and made a calm, slow, clicking noise. It threw its left arm up into the ceiling, cutting into it. A small rain of stone fragments fell out of the cut, and into the pool.


    Fawn froze, and looked up to see the creature making its way across the ceiling. So smooth, so focused, like nothing she had ever seen before this shocking day. The creature carried on across the ceiling, toward the petrified girl. As it did, there was a constant tirade of broken stone falling from every inverted step it took, shredding the solid stone like it was nothing more than soft timber.


    As Fawn saw it draw closer, she felt all her muscles spasm, her body was trying to make a reflex escape movement. Before she could stop herself, she sprung to her feet and shot backward against the rock. Moved by pure adrenalin, and feral force, she impacted the rock wall behind her, taking the force on her shoulders. The effect of slamming into the wall moved her upper body forward, in a lurch. She instinctively threw her feet back against the wall, propelling herself out, and upward toward the ceiling.


    All to get away from the incoming Veil, so fast and accurate were her movements, that it caused the Veil to move with a start. It withdrew its right hand and swung from its feet and left hand as the girl leaped past it. Because she had no idea where she was aiming to land, there was no clarity to the focus of her jump.


    She began to fall toward the water. With a smooth movement, the Veil caught her small, frightened body as she fell, securing her, just before the surface of the water. It clicked slowly, as it wrapped its powerful claws around her, cradling her light frame against their blood-tarnished edges.


    As she felt herself land against the palm of its hand, Fawn twisted, feeling every part of her body twitch in panic. The sudden movement caught her elbows, knees and feet against the jagged razors of the creature¡¯s claws, slicing her in several places at once. She screamed, and froze, totally aghast.


    Devoid of any ideas on how to escape, thoughts of terror raced through her head.


    I¡¯m going to die and be EATEN!


    She began to cry, sobbing just as a terrified child would. As her blood spilled from the cuts that riddled her soft skin, she felt her will to struggle start to fade.


    Moving quickly, the creature placed her down on the hard surface beside the pool. As it inverted its hand, it turned its claws suddenly from her path and dropped her on her side.


    The fall proved rough, bruising her left shoulder and hip, and very nearly her whole side in the process. As she fell from its grasp hard onto the stone, it shocked her out of the despair that had begun.


    Snapped back to reality, she turned to look at the creature. Slowly but steadily, the Veil moved its head down to where she was lying¨C¨Cbleeding and bruised. It tilted its head slightly, its mouth closed and eyes half lidded, and proceeded to examine her closely.


    As the animal¡¯s head moved in closer, Fawn felt her thoughts returning and tears subside.


    Why hasn¡¯t it killed me?


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    She risked rolling onto her back. The stone was freshly cold against her, but it was at least smooth. Holding perfectly still, she dared to look back at the huge, dangerous creature bearing down on her. Meeting its enormous silver eyes, she shook visibly. As the creature drew closer still, it moved more slowly.


    Eventually, it held itself at roughly her arm¡¯s-reach away. Then gradually, it brought its legs and arms together underneath itself, resting down on the stone in front of her and relaxed its eyes.


    Her mind began to swim with possibilities. Some of the thoughts were strange.


    It saved me on purpose, but why?


    She found herself with what felt like forever to think, in the fleeting moments she had.


    While she was thinking, the Veil didn¡¯t move. It just sat still and watched her, occasionally blinking its outer lids slowly.


    After what felt like more time than she had ever waited, Fawn turned her attention to her injuries. With the apparent threat abated, she took a moment to wrap small pieces of her disheveled garments around her various wounds, working to keep herself as calm as she could.


    The hulking pitch-black creature that shimmered gray when it moved, seemed content to simply watch her, occasionally sniffing at the air around her¡ªturning its head from side to side and looking at her from different angles, as though it were regarding something unusual.


    Having taken the time to dress her injuries, Fawn curled herself against the wall behind her, staring at the extremely hazardous animal, which at some moments seemed almost ... tame in its stillness.


    With the images of those she had seen brutally slain so fresh, it was hard to imagine what she was looking at could make any sense. The creature would breathe vast, gradual breaths from time to time, like those of a sleeping giant. It seemed to need very little air, and kept a slow, steady pulse. Its state was that of something hibernating in a way that could come, and go, on a whim.


    After enough time had passed, there was a feeling of acceptance in the air. A small girl curled up against a rock wall, trying not to stand out, and a large predator resting comfortably on the floor, calm and serene¡ªa hunter, after the hunt.


    With no time to clean, feed or water herself, Fawn could feel the grit under her nails and in her clothes. She could smell the results of her fear, strewn through her undergarments. Her thoughts went to the others she had seen, and smelled, experiencing fear as she had. The dried blood tightening her skin was becoming more prevalent than the areas that were clean.


    Finally, the foul feeling was too much for her and she began to summon the courage to move toward the water again.


    As she moved forward, she noted the creature was still in its slumbered state. She had no trouble moving past it in silence, moving herself across the surface without any missed steps, or shuffling.


    As she reached the water, its odd shimmering caught her eye. She saw in its reflection that the creature was already behind her: it had moved so quietly that even she had not noticed.


    Her pulse jumped as she realized that she had not managed to evade its senses, but in fact, it must have moved in much the same moment as she did.


    ¡°Oh!¡±


    I can¡¯t even get past it when it¡¯s sleeping. I might never get away if it always knows when I¡¯m moving.


    She found herself shaking in its presence.


    It moved again with a calmed sense of purpose, slowly toward its small captive. It closed in on her small, shaking frame, strode over her and made its way back to the other side of the cave, moving things back and forth. Eventually, there came a moment when the creature was done with its housework-like activities.


    It gathered the remnants of flesh and skin from the ground, and parceled them in one hand. Stripped of all bones, they didn¡¯t resemble body parts at all. In a swift sequence, it passed over the wall it had come in through, and out into the cavern network, taking with it all the putrid components of what once were people.


    Watching as the creature took away the remains of her would-be assailants, Fawn couldn¡¯t help but feel that she might have more in common with the dark predator than she did with the humans she grew up with. It was the most dangerous thing she had ever seen, but felt almost ...  familiar.


    Prominent within her feeling, was the shadowed possibility that she may have met the one thing that could stand against the Soldiers. The idea that she may have been saved from her human fate by an animal, was both strangely comforting, and yet, awfully lonesome.


    Feeling entombed within an enormous cavern made home by a huge and dangerous predator, was not helping all that much either. With the space to think for herself, she made her way down to the silver pool and began to use its waters to clean her feet and hands. It was a welcome relief from the endless feeling of filth she had come to tolerate as normal.


    As her extremities came clean, the cool, soothing nature of the water became increasingly appealing. Given some time had gone by, she was beginning to feel more like herself again. She slid her legs into the calm water and carefully moved her arms to drop her clothes off a piece at a time.


    Letting them fold into the pool, she watched the circles of dust and oil expand from each piece of crumpled cloth as it fell and soaked in the pool.


    With all her outer clothes soaking, she gradually moved her underclothes past the cuts and grazes on her arms and legs, and over the wounds on her feet.


    Letting her body relax again without the coarse fabric, so harsh and abrasive against her skin, she sat on the edge of the pool dabbling her feet and legs in the water, comfortable with no rags on and free to wash her whole body.


    There was no one to judge or chastise her here. It was the first time she had felt a tender touch in so long, even if it was only her own.


    As more time went by, her growing confidence allowed her to move further down the side of the pool, feeling the cool and calming water make its way over her.


    Easing her strained muscles and settling the burnt feeling on her skin was a welcome relief. Eventually, she gathered enough fortitude to let herself wade into the water. It was colder as she got further in but still held the same clarity, and the silvered effect remained steady from all angles. As she moved around in the pool, she could feel the water pressing in on her skin and abdomen. At its deepest point, the pool reached under her ribs.


    She enjoyed the light pressure against her stomach, it seemed to make her hunger less pressing. Under her feet she could feel the stone was very smooth, although her little toes found tiny cracks in the surface as she walked across: too small for anything much to pass through, but just enough that she could feel the occasional ebb and flow of the water moving in and out through them.


    The flow of water was so slight that one might miss it entirely, if not for the heightened sensitivity of raw skin¡ªfrom too much running on burnt, abrasive dust.


    Feeling increasingly comforted, she crouched in the pool and was able to wash her hair as well as the rest of her body. The feeling of cleanliness was such an improvement over her recent days that she might have fallen asleep, if not for the accumulating cold from being immersed for so long.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 17: Personal

    Personal


    With her body now feeling much better, she spread her clothes across the stalagmites strewn around the pool and slid herself back into the water for a little longer¡ªwhile she had both the freedom to do so, and indeed, nowhere else she could go.


    Wading turned to splashing as she found more time to herself to be therapeutic. After a while she was almost relaxed in the water, until a sound broke the calm. She looked toward the wall over which the Veil had gone and saw nothing, but her ease was leaving her, so she began to make her way back to where she had left her clothes.


    There was a noise behind her. She turned to see the Veil already in the water looking down on her, its head beyond the peak of her reach, and one of its clawed hands coming toward her.


    She grabbed at her bare chest, covering herself in an instinctive way, but the creature seemed neither interested in, nor dissuaded by, her sudden action.


    With one of its hands, it slowly reached toward her, claws facing backward as though it would touch her with the back of its wrist. As it closed the space between them, Fawn felt her toes grip the smooth stone again and her nails dug into her side.


    The creature¡¯s hand stopped just in front of her bare stomach and began to unfurl. Struck motionless with breath gaining speed, she felt the need to recoil or run, or jump from its reach, but she was starting to understand that if it had wanted to harm her, it could have done so already.


    Gradually, its powerful fingers closed the final space and the back of one of its knuckles made contact with her stomach. She winced terribly, as not only was this the very weapon that had reduced all those around her to discarded meat, but it was also the first time she had been touched since her mother died.


    Upon the evident flinch, the Veil slowed its movement further and stroked the oddly glossed back of its claw across her stomach and downward toward her hip. It moved its head closer.


    With her eyes having adjusted completely, she could now see more of the details in its face. Its skin was less rough around its eyes, than the rest of its face, and it was clearly breathing in her scent. She didn¡¯t feel the threat that she had before, but it was far from a comfort. She felt as though she were standing before the perfection of death itself, and waiting to see what it would decide to do with her.


    It moved the back of its claw down her hip and into the water. The claw had a surface so fine it barely impacted the water as it passed into it. She recoiled further as she felt the strange texture of its claw pass over her skin, but it didn¡¯t react and continued down her hip and leg, on to the inside of her left knee. Her breath was very fast now, she didn¡¯t dare move as all the fingers that were not brushing against her were close enough that she would risk further wounds if she were to move too much.


    As the claw passed inside her knee it then went behind her leg and gently lifted her leg from the water: her inherent flexibility made it simple for the creature to lift it without toppling her over. It drew a large breath as her thigh crested the water and moved its eyes to the various cuts to her skin. It let breath out and moved its hand back, replacing it with its opposing hand and repeating the action down her right leg, bringing it from the water.


    Even though she felt fear enough that she was almost frozen by it, there was such care taken by the creature¡¯s movements that she found herself feeling the glossed texture against her skin as if almost pleasant, maybe it would have been in another circumstance. Finally, the creature brought its finger to the center of her chest and moved her arms outward one at a time, looking carefully at each one, and then down her sides. She felt so exposed, as though there was nearly nothing left that she could keep to herself. Once it had inspected her torso and arms, its claw moved down her center. It dropped into the water and she felt more of the claw¡¯s detail as it moved further down her abdomen. She reacted involuntarily, jumping back from the contact.


    ¡°Eek!¡±


    The creature paused and moved its head closer again. Sniffing at her, it began to make a rumbling sound. It placed one of its hands behind her and drew it back, turning her slowly to the side. Then with no warning, it tipped her backwards and caught her body across the back of its heavily textured hand.


    ¡°What? ... ¡±


    It had happened so quickly she had no time to think. It then lifted her from the water, balancing her whole body across the back of its sprawled fingers, and brought her closer to its face.


    It examined her all over intently, and eventually closed its nictitating membranes and looked again, then carefully placed her back in the water on her feet.


    It was such a surreal experience for her, that the reality of what happened felt almost impossible to understand. She was now safely back in the water¡ªunharmed¡ªand actually had been checked fairly well for injuries. Fawn wondered if what she was to this animal was something like a pet, and perhaps it had never intended her any harm.


    Standing in the water, she felt very ill-prepared with no clothing, no weapon, and no way to move without still being within its reach. Oddly though, there was an air of having been watched over ... as the creature moved slowly through the water, positioning itself to stand above her like a shelter made of dense skin and metallic bone.


    Having finished its inspection of her wounds, the Veil moved itself through the pool to the edge. Fawn began to feel a little more secure in herself and went to where her wet clothing was strewn. She began to sort through what was there, to see what was still intact and might work for her. She was able to gather her underclothes, but the outerwear was tattered beyond practicality.


    The Veil sat watching her wrap herself in the various pieces of wet cloth. Despite the observation, Fawn felt no sense of threat nor imposition, and the creature seemed to be calmed by her presence in some way. She smiled to herself a little.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Well at least ¡®it¡¯ doesn¡¯t hate me for being undressed.


    This simple notion was more of a relief than she would have thought possible.


    After taking some time to put together what she could of her clothes, she sat and curled forward for a moment, prompting a pronounced sound of emptiness from her stomach as she curved. It had, after all, been another high-expenditure and low-input day.


    The sound of her stomach rumbling crossed the ears of the Veil sitting at the water¡¯s edge. It turned its head toward her and moved in closer. Its motion still made her feel a little uncomfortable, but she stayed as she was. It turned its head away from her and held still, sniffing at the air.


    Again, her stomach made its complaints.


    ¡°Oooh. I¡¯m so hungry.¡±


    Upon hearing the second sound, the Veil moved itself, stepping over her and toward its exit. Its movements were clear, yet quieter than before.


    As she watched it go, she found herself a sense of composure she hadn¡¯t felt in some time. There was such calm in the cavern, and staring into the settled pool was soothing for her rattled nerves. It seemed so unlikely after all she had seen, but somehow there was a peace to where she was. As the Veil passed over the wall and out, she began to feel a sense of safety, similar to that which she had felt when Ikan and Eris were alive.


    Moving through the caverns and corridors, the Veil followed the scent it had picked up from the girl in its home. Walking over the blood and remains of its earlier victims, it moved to the hole that the invaders had made. Daylight was permeating the small space that Fawn had called home, revealing how little protection it had provided.


    Following the smell that it picked up from her clothing, the Veil found the small scattering of dried meat strewn across the floor.


    It reached down carefully to gather the pieces, struggling to collect the small, hardened fragments with its long claws. Having gathered what it could of the food, it curled its palm tightly around the fragments, then moving around the slowly flooding sunlight, it sliced some moss from the wall and turned back toward the cavern.


    As it crossed over the ground where the Hunter and his Wards had died, it gathered up the clothing and pieces of armor that remained. Curling its tail around the garments, it made its way back over the wall into its cavern.


    Up and wandering around, Fawn was becoming familiar with her new reserve. She could see all of the details of the cavern now. It was large and fully enclosed, and it seemed that the space above the wall over which the Veil came and went was the only access.


    Able to move around as she wanted to, not having to fear the sudden arrival of the Cast or obsessed Hunters, was a relief she hadn¡¯t expected.


    As she wandered closer to the entry point, her foot slipped on a remainder of the thick, dark blood that coated the entire slab in front of the entrance wall.


    Layer upon layer, blood had gathered and congealed, slippery where fresh, and sticky where there were accumulations over cycles. In an instant, her calm was tempered by the cold feeling that at any point before she was rescued by the creature, she could have just as easily been another layer on the floor.


    She found herself staring at the dark red, trying to fathom what made the difference between those who comprised the coating she was standing on, and herself¡ªthe one who was saved.


    ¡°Why did it save me? What makes me ... not food?¡±


    The idea held her in place for what felt like forever, until eventually her stillness was broken by movement over the wall.


    The Veil came down onto the dark red tarnished rock where she was still standing and stood over her. Clicking slowly, it reached its hand out, unfurled its claws and motioned to the food scraps it had gathered. Moving a little too quickly, Fawn excitedly grabbed at the food, slipping on the massed blood underfoot and landed on her back.


    As the flurry of movements both planned and accidental happened, it was more than the creature was accustomed to. It moved its face to meet with Fawn¡¯s eyes, and curled its strange lips down away from its teeth.


    ¡°Clunk ... clunk ... clunk.¡±


    Fawn lay perfectly still on the stone, staring into the silvered black eyes of the thing that represented both deliverer and great danger at the same time. Her hands began to shake.


    ¡°Ok ... I ... I just fell.¡±


    The Veil closed its mouth and blinked slowly, then tilted its head and moved back away from her. Its muscles loosened as it eased itself onto the floor.


    Getting up gradually, Fawn realized she felt more corrected by a senior than threatened by a predator. She gathered herself and started eating the food it had provided. After a moment or two, a rumbling started to come from the Veil.


    As she turned her attention to it, it passed its tail around its body, motioning the clothing it had picked up toward her.


    This time, she moved more carefully toward the tail and watched as it unwound, dropping the clothes and some pieces of armor on the bloodied stone. Collecting some of the clothing pieces, she took them with her to the pool.


    Once she got to the edge she stopped and thought for a moment. Looking back at the now-quiet creature sitting against the wall, she took one of the larger garments that once covered the man with the warhammer, and moved over to where it was sitting.


    Carefully, she reached out to the Veil¡¯s hand and tried to lift one of its fingers. Gathering her strength, she was able to move its finger slightly.


    As it felt the movement, the Veil looked at her more specifically than before, and after a moment, lifted the finger she had been attempting to move.


    She saw the heavy, dark finger lift which made her smile. Bringing the big garment around, she hooked the cloth behind the hovering claw and started to pull the cloth against its inner edge.


    As it felt the cloth moving, the Veil intuitively curled its finger, opposing the pressure. Pulled against the crystalline razor of the long claw, the cloth sheared easily.


    Watching as Fawn used its claw to slice the garment, the Veil began to shift its head in a curious fashion. As she made the next two slices, cutting the garment into pieces, it just observed and kept its hand steady.


    Sitting cross-legged in front of the hand, Fawn carried on cutting up the clothing that the oddly peaceful creature had brought her, setting the pieces down next to her in an ordered pile.


    Having collected her cloth strips, she picked them all up and went to the pool again to wash them, as she had done with her own clothes. As she knelt by the water, reaching in with the strips, a cold draft of air blew across her shoulders as the Veil came up behind her. For a moment the movement made her stop.


    Then she just carried on, the massive creature sitting behind her. As she continued cleaning and preparing her cloth, she started to feel at ease with the breath coming and going from the hulking creature at her back.


    Reaching around, she placed her hand on one of its fingers. The hand twitched backward as she made contact.


    ¡°It¡¯s ok ... ¡±


    She laid her hand slowly on its claw again. This time, it didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°Thank you ... for saving me.¡±


    The idea that she had been rescued was starting to take over from the feeling of constant fear. Knowing that she had an effect on the creature, was reassuring in a strange way. Leaving her hand on its finger, she felt the pulse of its blood moving slowly under its skin: such a slow and steady pulse, it was calming to witness.


    After sitting with the creature for a while, she began to feel a little more at home, but still not certain what she was in the company of. It still smelled like cold stone and old blood. Its own scent was so mild it might have disappeared entirely against the tarnish of odors adhering to it.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 18: An Understanding

    An Understanding


    Eventually, a small pile of cloth strips were gathered beside Fawn, and she was happy with the state they were now in. Using one of the other shirts that she had been given, she was able to wear it like a dress, binding it to her body using the cloth strips she had made.


    With patience, she used some of them to attach a component of the armor to the torso which kept it in place fairly well.


    It won¡¯t save me from everything, but it might help.


    She stood up to put on her new handy work. This time, the Veil simply leaned back to make space for her. It made no sudden movements or reactions¡ªthere seemed to be a steadiness growing between the two most unlikely of compatriots.


    Feeling proud of herself for what she had made to wear, she walked around in the darkness of the cave, as though someone were watching her perform in a new dancing outfit.


    The Veil sat watching her move around, like a bear watching a cub at play.


    It was hard for Fawn to truly grasp what had created her situation, but it was becoming more and more evident that this was a stronger position to be in than any she had experienced.


    Deciding her new clothing was sufficient, she picked up the last of her dried food and ate it surprisingly fast.


    The Veil moved itself over to where she was standing and reached its hand toward her.


    ¡°I¡¯m just hungry.¡±


    She spoke to it as if it were able to respond.


    Staring at her hand and looking around the floor, it moved back over to the entrance and picked up a piece of leather which had come from one of its previous feedings.


    Holding the leather, it slid its claw through it, making a narrow strip and took it over to where Fawn was standing. As it drew closer, it stretched out its arm and presented the strip of leather to her.


    Turning to look at what she was being offered, Fawn reached into the palm of the Veil¡¯s hand and took the small strip.


    ¡°Umm, thank you.¡±


    Holding the strip in her hand, she looked up at her host. It looked back at her and made a perfunctory movement with the area around its teeth.


    ¡°Oh ... food? I ... umm, I can¡¯t eat this though.¡±


    The Veil seemed irritated. It motioned to her face, making a slight clicking sound.


    ¡°I know, thank you. I just can¡¯t eat this.¡±


    Fawn lifted her hand to her face and attempted to chew some of the leather that it had brought her, but the thick tarnish of blood made her feel ill as it neared her nose.


    ¡°Ew ... oh Gods, I can¡¯t ... ¡±


    Seeing more of her reactions, the Veil seemed to grasp her situation. It moved its head down and away from her. Looking around, it took itself to a far corner of the cavern and began to search very slowly through what looked to Fawn like another pile of skins and bones.


    Not sure what to do next, Fawn just watched¡ªthe movements it made seemed too detailed and intricate for such a large animal.


    After a while the Veil settled into a moment of stillness, followed by a sudden extraction with its hand. It became clear that it had removed something from the pile, and that for whatever reason it had required some force to do so.


    After it finished making the sudden withdrawal, it seemed to slump down onto its haunches.


    There was a sound coming from it that Fawn had not heard before, like a humming tone passing in and out with its breathing. Curiosity took control of her and she moved toward the creature. As she got closer, she saw that the pile from which it had drawn the item was closer in density to the creature itself, than it was to the human remains that had been previously scattered about the cave.


    Finally, she was close enough to make out some details. It wasn¡¯t a pile of flesh and bone as she had assumed, but rather a corpse of the same dark skin as her host, only somewhat smaller.


    ¡°Clunk ... clunk ... clunk.¡±


    The Veil started to make the sound that she had come to recognize as warning.


    She stopped where she was.


    ¡°Sorry ... I was just¡ª¡±


    It turned quickly toward her and moved across the distance between them faster than it had before.


    She froze.


    It came close and sat in front of her. It seemed irritable and undecided. Suddenly, it thrust its hand downward against the stone floor.


    The quick movement caused her to jump, but this time she kept composure. It then removed its hand from the spot it had impacted and Fawn could see the result.


    Embedded in the solid stone was a dark, glassy-looking item. The Veil pulled its hand and arm back away from it and she was able to bend forward to look more closely. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Her breath was taken for a moment ... it was clearly a Veil claw, only it was smaller, not more than the size of a large knife. There was a dark, oil-like substance coagulating from the base down to the point where it was stuck into the stone.


    ¡°Oh, this is ... ¡±


    She wondered how to react to what she was seeing. A big, black hand dragged across the floor to gesture toward her.


    ¡°You want me to have it?¡±


    She stood still, hoping she was not about to anger her host. The big hand stayed as it was.


    She reached down carefully and grasped at the reverse side of the smooth, disembodied gift she had been granted. Pulling with both hands against the claw, she wasn¡¯t able to make it move. She began trying to loosen it by opposing her forces. Left, right, left, right ... but nothing. It might as well have been part of the cave floor itself.


    The Veil made a noise, pressing air out of its nose.


    ¡°Shiff ... shiff.¡±


    She fell backwards from the attempt to break the claw loose.


    ¡°I ... umm. I can¡¯t move it.¡±


    She tried again and fell backwards, her new armored dress falling back over her face from the momentum.


    ¡°Shiff ... shiff ... shiff.¡±


    The Veil made the noise again.


    She was trying with great focus now, forcing in every direction to see if it would move.


    ¡°Oh, I really can¡¯t move this ... what do you want me to do with it?¡±


    Making one more concerted effort, she pulled against it, and this time slipped and fell straight down on her behind.


    ¡°Ow!¡±


    ¡°Shiiifff ... shiiifff shifff ... shifff.¡±


    The noise came so consistently from the creature that it took her attention. Its body was moving as well.


    ¡°Wait ... are you laughing at me?!¡± she said with indignance.


    ¡°Shiff ... shiiiff.¡±


    ¡°You are laughing at me.¡±


    There was a hurt tone to her voice at first, but then for the first time in so long she began to laugh.


    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t move it!¡±


    ¡°Shifff shiff ... ¡±


    ¡°Stop laughing. I can¡¯t do it.¡±


    She sat down and continued to chuckle.


    ¡°Maybe you can help?¡±


    She tapped the embedded claw, sat with her arms folded, and made the noise she could remember making when she wanted Eris to make her food.


    ¡°Himph.¡±


    She sat still and did her best to look defeated.


    The Veil, still sniggering, reached its finger under the claw and lifted it out with no more effort than one might remove a knife from soft food. The claw made a familiar shearing sound as it left the stone and fell to the side with a clink.


    Fawn reached over to where it lay and collected it. Once again, only with more assurance, she placed her other hand on its arm.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The Veil did not recoil this time. It simply sat still and watched her hold the claw.


    Taking a piece of cloth from her collection, Fawn wiped the oil-like substance from the root of the claw and then cleaned the whole thing off. It felt like the right thing to do with something that she suspected was a unique gift.


    As she cleaned, she could see the ultrafine edge that allowed it to cleave stone with such ease¡ªit was as though the whole thing was made of a hardened crystal¡ªa lattice material that would sharpen itself by shedding layers as soon as required. Looking so closely at this incredible item it was easy to see why people had always feared these creatures.


    Their claws were of a sharpness and density that would rival even the swords of the Cast Soldiers.


    Now she held one as if it were a tool¡ªan item granted to her by the greatest destructive power she had ever witnessed. She could feel her skin rise and fall with anticipation as she moved it in her hands, aware that one mistake would see her lose a finger, or worse.


    Holding her new treasure, she looked up at the Veil.


    ¡°What do I do with it though?¡±


    The creature simply looked at her and blinked slowly.


    Standing up with the claw in hand, she made her way to where the cloth pieces were lying and picked one up. Dangling the strip from her hand, she made a half gesture towards it with the claw, slitting the coarse cloth without effort.


    The efficacy of the cut was so pronounced she felt her skin crawl and teeth clench. She would need to be more careful with this than anything she had ever handled before.


    All at once, she felt like a child who had been given an adult tool of the highest quality, and left unsupervised with it. It was a feeling of great importance, and intense nervousness.


    Seeing her slicing up pieces of cloth with the gift it had given her, the Veil made an indignant series of movements culminating in its arrival at her side. Fawn froze and looked up to hear the now familiar.


    ¡°Clunk ... clunk.¡±


    ¡°Ok, ok. I was just umm ...  testing it.¡±


    The Veil stopped its sounds and reached its hand down to where she was, starting to grasp at her.


    ¡°Ee!¡±


    She let out a sound as its claws came close. It stopped and turned its hand over, nudging her onto the back of its hand.


    ¡°Ok, umm ... ¡±


    Lying on the back of its hand, she gathered herself to keep from sliding off.


    ¡°Now ...  what?¡±


    The creature stopped and lifted her to its underside, passing its hand slowly back and forth under its belly.


    Fawn reached her hands out and gingerly ran her little soft fingers against its skin, feeling the distinct texture with her fingertips. It was like she was touching the ground but it was moving.


    It was flexible, yet as hard and tough as anything she had felt. Feeling her touch its skin but gain no purchase, it then lifted its hand up past its head and behind its neck.


    Fawn could see a series of plates across the back of its head that seemed to have a movement to them, but not very much. They were placed almost like gills but did not appear soft or flexible. She found herself puzzling on it for longer than the creature was willing to hold her there, as it eventually flicked its wrist and placed her across its neck.


    ¡°Oh, you want me to hold on?¡±


    She reached for the outer edges of the plates and held on to them. Soon after, she saw it pick up the claw it had given her and a few fragments of cloth, lifting them within her range. She reached down and retrieved the cloth first, making a loop of it. Then, gathering the claw, she fastened the root of it with the loop. Giving herself something to hold, she then wrapped the claw with cloth, carefully covering the length of its cutting edge.


    Just as she placed the claw down behind one of the plates, she felt the creature¡¯s immense muscular frame lift up.


    ¡°Whoa!.. Ah!¡±


    She felt herself start to slide, so gripped on as best she could. Legs spread wide to span its neck, she was able to hold on with a combination of her feet, knees and thighs. Fawn was grateful that she had something to hold with her hands, but it was clearly going to be the work of her legs to keep her from an inglorious dismount.


    In a few quick strides the incredible creature was already across the cavern and heading over the wall¨C¨Ca threshold she had not crossed since meeting her deadly savior.


    Passing over the wall as it had before, the Veil started to head back along the natural corridors that weaved and spiraled on for a great distance. It traveled more slowly and carefully than usual, keeping itself steady and limiting its path to the floors and walls.


    Fawn was caught up in wonder and amazement as she felt herself travel along these unfamiliar corridors and caverns with ease.


    The creature itself seemed to move with little effort, and she certainly represented no burden for it. As she felt its muscles move beneath her, she was taken with how capable it was. It felt like it was moving the world around her¡ªnot that she was simply being moved through it. To her, she was astride the most powerful arbiter of life and death that had ever existed.

 Chapter 19: Passage

    Passage


    As they jogged through the caves and tunnels it was evident that traversing the rough, uneven stone was as natural for the Veil as running over flat ground was for Fawn. Climbing the walls, whenever it needed to, seemed to require no additional effort. Fawn couldn¡¯t help but wonder what would actually impose a physical challenge for the animal that was so capable of everything it took on.


    They made a turn toward a tunnel that felt like an entirely new direction.


    They steadily gained speed and galloped further and further along the tunnel. After a while, there was a movement from the ceiling.


    The Veil slowed its steps and looked upward. There was clearly more movement coming from the ceiling of the corridor, and it was becoming more pronounced.


    Gradually, the Veil came to a stop. Looking straight up and then forward, it slowly lifted its right arm, turned its palm face up and remained perfectly still.


    Fawn stared at the apparent movement on the ceiling while she waited with her mount, tightening her grip on all fronts. There seemed to be a flickered pattern of subtle light making its way closer to them. She could make out a notably different texture against the darkened area ahead, then the movement stopped.


    A snap of momentum shakes the stillness as something shoots from the ceiling with startling speed¡ªa long, narrow, worm-like creature, its head a vicious array of separate barbs formed into a unified spear powered by its whole body.


    It aims for the eye of the Veil, crossing the distance between the ceiling and its target in a blink.


    Fawn, revolted at the sight, convulses in a retching reaction.


    The Veil waits perfectly still, and just as the creature¡¯s barbs are almost at its eye, there is another flash of movement.


    The Veil flicks its hand past its own face with such speed that Fawn barely sees it move¡ªslicing the head from the worm like it was made of water. Then, turning its palm back over it, places its hand once again down on the cave floor.


    The body of the now-slaughtered worm began to peel away from the ceiling of the cave, a series of short tendrils responsible for keeping it in place falling lifeless along the body.


    Looking up, Fawn could see the length of the irksome critter laid into the stone in a channel. It looked as though the thing had been traversing back and forth along the same path for cycles, and so had cut a groove.


    The thing she was looking at seemed to be very old.


    It must have lived here for so many cycles, just eating what came by, but ...  what comes by here?


    Fawn felt greatly relieved that she had not come this way alone. The visage of the new threat was very unsteadying. Its head even separated from its body seemed dangerous, and the fluid that constituted its blood was caustic like the substance that eroded the victims of the Veil.


    There was a persistent accumulation of acidic materials from the environment, so these various animals were metabolizing the raw form of what they absorbed over time, and some were then weaponizing the by-product as a result.


    Fawn looked down at the severed head leaking corrosives onto the floor of the cavern corridor. So far, all animals she had encountered were very dangerous and it was getting harder for her to believe that there was anything else.


    The worry that she was not only hunted by her own kind, but also food for everything else, was a heavy burden. She felt her grip tighten on the one animal that was not trying to eat her, or at the very least, was willing to keep her alive.


    The Veil slowly began to move again. With its eyes flicking from one point to another, it was searching in every direction at once. After a few paces something caught the Veil¡¯s attention. It turned its head to the left and drew its face open as Fawn had seen it do, to eat once before.


    It made a new sound, one that Fawn found very disconcerting.


    As she turned to make out what it was looking at, she could see another worm sliding along the wall of the cave: it was embedded back and forth in a long trail. The head and tail were not easy to define. She could make out the small tendrils that it engaged to keep itself aloft, but not the head.


    This creature must be dangerous as it made her powerful escort pause and reconsider its movements.


    The Veil continued to make the sound. It was like the sound of moving stones that it had made before, only this time it was more intense and gained in volume.


    In an instant one of the translucent gray coils of the worm twitches, and a spear-shaped head bursts forward from behind it. Without needing to move its body, the Veil snaps its jaws shut on the worm¡¯s head as it makes an attempt to puncture its eye.


    She can¡¯t see it, but Fawn hears the crunch of the barbs and squelch of the torn flesh as another attacker falls into dead ribbons on the floor. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    She started to get the impression that there were a great many more of these unpleasant things, than was initially obvious. It was almost as though the walls and ceiling were the pathways through their home, or part of some kind of nest, but there was no evidence whatsoever that these things worked together.


    Looking down, she could see the murky, translucent body that made up the strange animal. The skin had a cloudy irregularity to it, with dark spots underneath. It was almost like there were rocks under its thin skin, or accumulations of clotted blood sliding around beneath the surface. The appearance was uniquely awful, the acrid odor released into the tunnels, once it was cut and dying, so viscous and bitter, it took a toll on her senses.


    ¡°Oh Gods, no more.¡±


    As if to make a point, she heard the rest of the creature¡¯s body fall slowly from its groove in the wall, the slipping, soft sloshing sound on its own was enough to turn her stomach.


    Moving forward with a steady caution, the Veil made its way with calm resolution and a high sense of its surroundings. Fawn found her willingness to watch where they were heading had faded almost entirely. Burying her head into her chest as best she could, she tried hard to ignore the horrid squishing noise as they trampled the worm bodies, and the acrid odor that resulted.


    After a few safe steps forward, there was more movement above them, and just as the Veil pulled itself to a halt there was a rush from the ceiling.


    There is not enough time for it to prepare its hands to defend itself. The worm focuses its force and strikes for the soft eye again.


    The Veil moves its head just a bit, and the barbs of the worm impact solid bone just above its right eye. The worm leaves a prominent star-shaped wound in the Veil¡¯s head.


    The Veil staggers back and snarls from the impact. The wound is not deep but it has left a puncture.


    ¡°Ahh! No!¡±


    Fawn is shocked by the sudden impact that wounds her savior. She grasps harder to the plates on its back.


    In a moment the Veil  regathers itself, and as the worm coils for a second strike, there is a presence of intense reaction in the muscles beneath Fawn¡¯s legs.


    The powerful predator feels like it is enraged beneath her. The Veil reaches its left hand behind its head and retrieves its Ward from its back. Clutching her to its chest, it rears up to its hind legs and roars.


    It¡¯s an immense sound that Fawn has no comparison for. It shakes her whole body, and she feels as though her organs move on their own.


    The worm launches itself at the Veil once again. Standing and furious, the Veil is now fully prepared. It times a perfect snatch of the worm¡¯s head in its free hand, and then pulling its thumb back, it slowly pierces the now-visible eye of the worm.


    Driving the claw through the eye, and only part way into its skull, gradually and with massive force, it then waits for a moment, and watches the length of the worm¡¯s body react against the ceiling rock.


    Holding the screeching critter in its hand, it brings forward its tail, slamming it into the long, writhing body of the worm as it begins to lose purchase on the ceiling. Over and over, it strikes holes into the length it can reach.


    The wailing and screaming of the trapped worm rattles painfully in Fawn¡¯s head. She curls beneath the cover of the Veil¡¯s hand and shields her ears.


    As the full length of the worm falls from the ceiling, it impacts the various rocks and stalagmites about the floor. It ruptures from the weight of its body crashing on the rocks.


    It breaks like a waterskin falling from a cliff, its organs and previous meals scattering viscera, and leaving the stench of life-long carrion to thicken the air.


    The prolonged noises of suffering bring the attention of other worms, and as they move along the wall and ceiling toward the noise, the Veil narrows its focus.


    There is nothing that can hide from the Veil¡¯s sight in this place. No matter how dark, its eyesight is second to no living thing in darkness. It sees all that there is to see.


    Tightening its hold on the frightened little girl beneath its palm, the Veil begins to cut into the stone floor with its long, clawed feet.


    As more worms come from other places, gathering ahead of it, it builds torsion in its legs. Some of the worms start to reveal their barbed heads to an amassed hissing sound that crackles through the tunnel. The Veil draws a deep breath, shortening its stance. Finally, as the screeching of the restrained worm stops, there comes a moment of quiet.


    A shearing sound rips through the cavernous space, shattering the silence. The Veil tears the stone it¡¯s standing on by launching itself into a forward lunge, immediately slicing the head from the first worm it encounters in three places aligned with its claws.


    Such speed and force comes from the blow, that it creates an instant splatter at the point of contact, and throws the head against the wall. The Veil then twists its body, making a spiral movement.


    As its momentum carries it further along the tunnel, it disembowels and decapitates every worm that is drawn out. Left and right they drop away, pieces falling to the floor like shreds of viscera from a giant intestine.


    Finally, the Veil slid to a stop with its feet under it at the end of its leap. The scene behind it is a mess of skin, blood and vivisected flesh. Nine dead worms are in pieces strewn about the tunnel, a gruesome reminder of the ferocity, will and accuracy of which the Veil is capable.


    Gently unfurling its left hand to check on its precious cargo, it went back to the warm rumble it had made once before.


    Fawn unwrapped herself and opened her eyes. Looking up at the once-terrifying visage, she found herself feeling something like comfort.


    The Veil placed her on its back and carried on working its way outward, away from the battle scene behind it.


    A fragment of light revealed itself far off in the distance.


    Fawn was beginning to feel comfortable on the back of the Veil, after all, this creature of darkness was the reason that she had survived as long as she had, and without question had begun to take extra efforts to keep her not only alive, but well.


    The sight of light growing as they approached was refreshing. For all her ability to see in this endless darkness, it would be nice to be in the light again, and there was more than a little curiosity building regarding where it was they were going to end up.


    I wonder if other people came this way.


    The idea that others may have made their way through this space over time was a mixture of encouraging and horrifying. She began to imagine what would have happened to her if she had come through alone, and felt herself shake visibly at the thought.


    As they closed the distance, the light diminished, and it became evident that the sun was going down as they traveled. The possibility of greeting a nice warm morning like she used to from her sleeping-room window, and watching the sun dance across her skin, was fading further from likelihood.


    Holding onto the Veil¡¯s back was getting strenuous for her, as time and irregular surface made the ride rough. She leaned forward to stretch herself out somewhat and loosen her legs enough to feel like there was still blood in them.


    Thankfully the Veil was moving more slowly and with greater fluidity than before, so she felt a moment of relaxation would not necessarily lead to her falling onto the stone. All the same, she felt no desire to bounce off the floor in an area where these worms might still be.


    She regathered her strength and took hold once again. The light they were traveling toward was wide now, albeit meek. They arrived at the end of the tunnel during dusk.


    Moving towards the light revealed more details on the back and shoulders of her carrier, and it was all so clean and purposed looking. The plates on its back were sleek with no rough, untidy components. There was no sign of tear nor scrape, and no evidence of anything unbecoming.


    It was a curiosity how tidy this animal was in an environment that was vile and often disgusting. In the increasing light, she could make out the arrangement of the plates: four rows of three across its neck, currently closed forward. Why the plates were there, and capable of movement, was very much a mystery.


    They emerged from the tunnel, and out into a desolate land. Fawn could see that they had passed through a mountain range, and come out to an area of cracked, irregular Plains, scattered with burnt stone and small, hardy looking plants. What she saw stretched seemingly forever into the distance.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 20: The Plains

    The Plains


    There was an entirely separated land beyond what had always just appeared as rocky cliffs, it was a revelation to Fawn. She had never even heard stories about anyone making a journey through to somewhere else.


    Gazing out into the distance was a truly surreal experience. As she came to terms with the vista of this new, vast world, she brought herself back to the moment, and began to take notice of the details she could see.


    There were small animals roaming around the stubby plant life. They were no taller than her knees, with four very short legs. They were light brown and covered in wrinkled skin with small, hooded eyes and long teeth.


    She could never have imagined such a creature. They moved in small groups of three or four and burrowed in and out of the dusty ground periodically. They seemed to gather something from their burrowing, which looked from where she was, like the roots of a small bush, only there was no evidence of any shrubs above ground.


    Looking up from the strange, brown, little animals she started to realize there were enormous plants ahead of her. Yet another thing she had thought impossible.


    These remarkable trees were immense towering trunks of pale timber with no bark. Some were taller than even the Tower in her home Village, which had been the tallest thing she had known, until now. Standing far taller than she imagined anything could be, she found an exhilaration in observing these massive plants. All plants where she grew up were small and dense, like the Oil Brush.


    Looking at some of the shorter, younger ones, she was able to see the design of the tops, a skeletal frame that had exploded into frayed threads, with sail-like white webbing connecting the long, thin branches.


    The more densely layered examples looked as though they would provide some shelter from the sun during its higher points, but it was hard to know if that would be true during the dusk light.


    Fawn drew great breaths and let her body relax a bit. It had been some time since she felt a deep breath would bring something other than a strong odor of death, and the change was almost enough to make her smile.


    Walking steadily, the Veil was covering ground easily and it seemed to be relieved to be in a different space as well.


    A little indignation toned her voice.


    ¡°What are we doing here? I¡¯m still hungry, you know.¡±


    The Veil made no noise of response and simply carried on its way.


    ¡°My legs are so tired. Please stop.¡±


    This time she had an effect on the creature. As it strode along, it slowed and turned its head slightly.


    ¡°Please. I need a break.¡±


    There was pain in her voice as she implored understanding. The Veil seemed to understand. It stopped and dropped its hind quarters.


    ¡°Oh but¡ª¡±


    Before she could make any protest, she slid down its back and onto the ground with a thud.


    ¡°Ow, you could have helped me off.¡±


    A lot more misery rolled out in her voice than was necessary for a simple bump on the ground. She felt the pressure of the simple impact overwhelm all her controls and began to cry. There was no more tolerance left in her for hunger, fear, terrifying noise or bruises.


    The Veil turned slowly to where she had fallen and curled its tail around her.


    ¡°Mmmrrrmmmmrr.¡±


    It rumbled a sound that slowly dropped in pitch, and turned its head to look at her.


    After a moment she stood up.


    ¡°I¡¯m ok. I¡¯m just so hungry now.¡±


    She leaned forward rubbing her stomach. The noise it made from constant hunger was loud enough to echo in an empty space.


    The Veil motioned its hand, tapping the ground and looking at her for a sign of understanding. There was none as she looked back at it.


    ¡°Umm what do you want me to do?¡±


    She moved to where the big, clawed hand was. It lifted its arm and slowly placed the underside of its thumb on her shoulder. It felt heavy on her small frame and the claw, though pointed away from her, was close to her face.


    The Veil tapped its thumb on her shoulder and pressed down. It weighed so much she immediately fell to her knees. The Veil lifted its hand and tapped again on the ground, very slowly but with clear determination.


    ¡°I¡¯m on the ground.¡±


    She spoke with fear in her voice.


    ¡°What¡ª¡±


    It tapped again on the ground.


    ¡°I need to ...  lie down?¡±


    There was more fear in her voice now. It had never forced her to do anything before and this time it seemed so intent on her lying down.


    Once she was lying in the dust, and it was satisfied she was going to stay there, the Veil stood up and started looking around. It seemed to find something after a short moment, and began to move away from where they were, off toward whatever it saw.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ... go! I¡¯m scared.¡±


    The Veil came back and tapped again on the ground.


    ¡°Mmmrrrmmmrrr.¡±


    She lay back down in the dust.


    Walking away again, the Veil made its way toward what it saw, stopping to crouch and sniff the air occasionally. After a few more strides it came into proximity of a small group of the odd little burrowing animals.


    Looking at the small group of digging and scurrying animals, the Veil made its way toward them.


    There was an innate stealth to the movements it made regardless of any particular situation, but this time it was a focused, specific type of movement. It slid across the ground like water, steadily lifting its feet and hands in the most specific way so as not to stir dust or make any noise. Its subtle shadow kept hidden from the prey as it chose its angle of approach perfectly.


    Coming close to the herd, it curled itself against the ground prone, and poised deathly still, as the small animals moved back and forth.


    With an explosion from the ground, the predator leaped straight up, forcing its massive frame into the air with ease, leaving a sound of scuffed dirt and dust cloud behind it.


    As the pack of animals ran frightened from the disturbance, it landed on one of the first to scurry away.


    It came down on the small animal from such a height, and with such weight, that the use of claws might be extraneous next to the mass that could have crushed it like an insect. The Veil had no intentions of landing so crudely, however. It came down around the animal and pierced its skull with one swift strike of its forefinger. The small animal was dead before it fell.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Fawn could hear the scuffle going on some distance from her, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to stand up and see what was making all the noise. Lying still, she heard the noises stop, and then the pattering of the herd as they traveled away.


    She kept her breath slow and quiet so she could listen more intently. All she was doing was waiting to learn what was coming. People made noise, animals made noise, but there was never any accidental sound from the Veil. She felt sure that if she could focus enough, she would be able to perceive the sound that it made coming back.


    There has to be some kind of noise¡ª


    She felt the presence of mass behind her.


    ¡°Whoa!¡±


    She was taken aback by how often this had happened.


    ¡°I think I see where you got your name. One day I¡¯ll figure out how to hear you coming.¡±


    The Veil dropped its quarry on the dirt next to her. As the carcass hit the ground it slumped down, dripping blood into the dust.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    Forgetting that her companion was not able to answer her questions was becoming common place.


    ¡°But what can I do with that? I ... I don¡¯t know how to ... ¡±


    The Veil collected the small animal and took it away from where Fawn was sitting. It then picked it up by the back of its head, and sliced it along the spine.


    Splitting the spine itself in half and pulling open the carcass, it revealed all the intestines from the top down. Once it carefully separated the internal organs from the attached flesh it inverted the body, dumping all of the entrails on the ground in a steaming heap.


    ¡°Oh ergh, more terrible smells.¡±


    Fawn could feel the reaction in her body: the foul odor permeating her far more than she hoped.


    ¡°Why does everything smell SO bad?¡±


    She looked down at the heap of intestines on the ground.


    ¡°Can¡¯t something just smell nice for a change?¡±


    She went to where the Veil was now removing the bones from the carcass. The sound brought her back to the first time she saw it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever get used to that sound.¡±


    She stifled a gag reflex and looked to the Veil for information.


    Pulling the bones from the lifeless creature, the Veil was sitting and eating like any other animal might. Once it had finished with a portion of the forequarters, it cut through the animal and passed the now gutted and fileted piece toward Fawn, dropping it in front of her.


    ¡°I can¡¯t eat it like this. I need to cook it or something.¡±


    Looking around her new environment, it was hard to imagine what she could build a fire with.


    The Veil went over to where she was and dragged the meat closer to her.


    ¡°Yes, thank you, but I can¡¯t eat it yet.¡±


    She bent down and pulled at part of the animal. Lifting it up to her mouth, she wrinkled her nose and recoiled from the bloody flesh.


    The Veil peeled its mouth downward and rolled its teeth together, as if in  general disapproval aimed at an infant.


    Fawn reached to where she had secured her claw on its back to retrieve it and began attempting to cut up the meat. The claw made the cuts easily, but the pelt meant that she was constantly adding fur to the pieces. Having so little information on how to prepare food, much less butchering, all she was certain of was that her hunger was mounting fast¡ªwhile her food was not.


    ¡°Oh, how do I skin this? ... ¡±


    The strain was beginning to get the better of her as she pulled at the skin, struggling to separate it from the fresh carcass. She had no understanding of how it could be done.


    Finally, she sat back from the strips she had cut, and curled her feet under her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing. I¡¯m going to starve to death.¡±


    Her strained voice started to irk the Veil and it looked in her direction. Beginning to understand that she was frustrated, it watched her more closely than before.


    Fawn picked up another piece of the cut flesh and began frantically pulling on the skin, then frustrated, she threw it on the ground.


    Watching her struggle was not what the Veil intended, and its tail started flicking to and fro, scraping the dirt around it. Leaning forward, it gathered some of the strips of meat that she had managed to successfully cut and pulled at them, shredding the pieces.


    ¡°No, No, No. That doesn¡¯t help.¡±


    She took the pieces back and stood on one end trying to pull the skin from the strip, still to no effect. While she was so intent on pulling at the skin, the Veil began to comprehend what it was that she was trying to accomplish. It pushed her from the carcass and gathered it off the ground.


    Before she could get herself up again, it had passed one of its claws along the length of the piece, easily stripping the flesh from the skin.


    ¡°Yay! Thank you.¡±


    Her youth crept through as she bounced on the spot, a smile across her face.


    The Veil didn¡¯t know what she was saying but it seemed to grasp her shift in mood accurately. It handed her the skin.


    ¡°Haha, no.¡±


    She reached for the flesh that had fallen from the Veil''s hand then jumped as she felt how squishy and warm it was.


    ¡°Ew, that¡¯s ... ew.¡±


    She dropped it, gathered herself and picked it up again.


    ¡°Now all I need to figure out is how to prepare it.¡±


    She looked at the Veil shaking her soon-to-be meal clear of dust.


    ¡°Do you know how to light a fire?¡±


    Her question to her assistant butcher yielded the usual ...  no response.


    She turned her focus from the muted creature, and out to the world around her.


    There was no evidence of any shrubs or small sticks anywhere, so the prospect of starting a fire was going to be difficult. There was no knowledge in her young mind on how one starts a cooking fire without Oil Brush. She had always known it to be the source of household fire.


    Oil Brush had the unusual property of igniting itself when put under sufficient pressure. Consequently, all she knew about fire was to press the brush between stones hard until it caught alight. In this circumstance, the concept of setting alight to anything was as distant a notion for her as it was for her ancient ancestors who had yet to discover its existence.


    The pale, bone-like trees that sporadically covered the expansive Plains varied in height and diameter wildly, with the tallest ones big enough that it was hard to see the tops, while the younger ones were around the same height as a single-storey home from the Village. The occasional small roaming herds of ground grazers were happily wandering around, taking their time and behaving like nothing was ever going to cause them any trouble.


    There were random patches of tussock that gathered most frequently around the base of the taller trees, but precious little otherwise.


    In the darkening sky, small flocks of leather-winged creatures followed the orange-toned clouds as they cast their drifter¡¯s shadow across the land. Some would land on the taller trees and gather together, before launching off the branches to dive at the ground from time to time.


    Off in the distance there was evidence of windstorms turning the horizon an ashen red, brown and yellow.


    Fawn walked over to one of the bare, pale tree trunks and looked closely at it to see if she could find anything like a hook or spike.


    Maybe I can just dry this.


    She wrapped a strip of the meat around the tree trunk, hooking it onto whichever pieces of ragged wood that she thought would catch it and hold it.


    After doing her best to attach it to the tree trunk, she stood back, but it insisted on sliding down the trunk. The surface was just too smooth for the meat to take hold.


    All she had done was coat a small portion of the enormous trunk in blood, covered her would-be food in dust, and gotten herself even more hungry. She gritted her teeth and scratched her fingers down her face.


    She threw the now dry, dusty, disheveled meat on the ground, stamping on it, and twisting her foot. She stood still for a moment.


    Slowly, she allowed resolution to replace frustration.


    I¡¯m going to have to find some Oil Brush back on the other side.


    ¡°Please help me skin the rest of this.¡±


    She struggled to hold up the fileted carcass of the animal.


    ¡°I ...  I can¡¯t do it ...  by ...  myself.¡±


    Seeing the effort she was putting into holding the body up, the Veil reached out and took it from her. It now had a better understanding of what she needed.


    It separated the skin from the flesh just as easily as it had the first time, and once it had, it passed its claws through the remaining meat, cutting it into strips much as it had seen her do with the cloth.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    She gathered all the strips and began bundling them into some of the surplus cloth she had brought with her, tying it behind her back like a package prepared by a hunter ready for travel.


    Once she had tied it to her back and secured it in such a way that she felt confident it would stay there and be there when she needed it, she turned her attention to the Veil.


    ¡°I need a name for you, what can it be? ... You¡¯re so quiet. I know the others call you Veil, and I see why, but you¡¯re not the same for me.¡±


    She began to stroke her hand along his arm.


    ¡°For me you¡¯re like a scary gray ... guard, but that¡¯s too long.¡±


    She reached up toward its shoulder with her small, soft fingers. Its head dropped down toward her.


    ¡°Mmmrrrmmmrrr.¡±


    It rumbled its approval. There was a new type of bond beginning to form between them.


    As she got closer to its face she came to stand right under its chin.


    ¡°Mmmrrrmmmrrr.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t do anything for you. I ask everything of you, and I can¡¯t do anything for you ... maybe one day I will be able to.¡±


    While she stood under its chin, it started to fold itself down, bringing its head closer to the ground. It crouched and lowered its head¡ªshe could reach the front of its face and its eyes for the first time.


    She was the closest she had been to the Veil¡¯s eyes, and even in the failing light, she was able to make out more than before. She reached her hand slowly up towards its eye and it sat still, letting her make contact with its upper eyelid. It was smooth and much softer than the rest of the creature. She passed her hand over it, making a noise to try and convey her affection.


    ¡°Mmmmhmm.¡±


    It responded in kind.


    ¡°Mmmrrrmmmrrr.¡±


    Petting its eye slowly, she came back to the idea.


    ¡°I need a name for you. I wish you could tell me what to call you. I guess it would be a noise I can¡¯t make anyway.¡±


    The evening had moved on and was almost entirely gone now, and although she had finally collected the raw basis for food, she was still running on empty. As the light dissolved, so did her focus and energy.


    The child curled herself under the chin of her unnamed protector, and for the first time since she escaped all the threats of the Village, she settled in and let the sleep of calm take her from the trials of her life.


    The Veil wrapped around her and kept watch as its little Ward rested well.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 21: Specter

    Specter


    Fawn was in a deep sleep when a shaking feeling woke her. Opening her eyes she could see the dark ground moving beneath her. She was hanging underneath the Veil, held by its left hand and swaying with each stride it took. Its pace was faster than usual, moving with specific purpose. In the cool dim light, Fawn made out they were heading towards one of the taller trees.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    Fawn had not known the Veil to canter this way in the past.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    She could feel the extra tension in its movements this time. With no new information coming, she decided to stop and listen. Focusing intently, she could hear something in the distance and it seemed to be getting louder.


    What is ... ?


    Listening harder still, she focused her attention on the sound, trying to make sense of it.


    Far away, but definitely getting louder, there was a kind of howling. It sounded like wind through a tunnel, mixed with gravel tumbling down a hill.


    What is that noise?


    She was entirely focused on the sound now, a periodic howl, starting and stopping every few moments, each time getting a bit closer and starting up again.


    The Veil was now at the foot of the tree it had aimed for. Walking around the trunk slowly, it looked up toward the branches in the distance.


    After it had circled the tree a few times, it stopped and pressed open its ears. Reacting quickly, it lifted Fawn to its back. She grasped on as best she could, hauling herself back up to the space she had gotten used to, holding her food and claw tight to her. Having placed her out of the way, the Veil stood itself side on to the tree and raised its hind leg.


    From beneath it revealed an opening: out of which came an organ it then used to spray a very strong chemical at the base of the tree. The smell was immediately overpowering for Fawn, more astringent and acidic smelling than the foul carrion odors she had encountered up until now. Coughing, she recoiled and hid her face in her elbow.


    ¡°Argh! Gods! What was that?! I guess ... you need a boy¡¯s name ... ewwww.¡±


    Struggling to catch her breath, she wrapped a cloth around her nose and mouth.


    ¡°I hope we¡¯re not going to stand here forever.¡±


    The Veil gathered himself and began to make the guttural sound that was usually reserved for warning animals that they are about to meet their end. With a swift leap he left the ground and turned himself to face the tree trunk, gripping onto it with his claws and engaging all four limbs as he ran up the tree, like simply climbing a hill.


    Fawn caught hold of the plates on his neck and held on for dear life as they scaled the enormous tree. Within moments they were at the top of the pale, towering timber edifice, the Veil tearing through the fabric-like foliage easily and landing on the top, crouching down.


    ¡°What are we doing up here?¡±


    Fawn had held on well enough but was lost as to why they had climbed so high without warning.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Are we hiding from that noise?¡±


    Desperately she hoped that was not the case, as all she had seen so far was no match for the Veil. If he was hiding, she wanted to know why.


    ¡°Are ... are you scared? Because I ... I don¡¯t know how to help.¡±


    Nervousness now permeated her voice.


    Her questions had no impact, but the discomfort must have begun to emanate from her as he then reached behind his neck so she could climb onto the back of his hand. He placed her down on the foliage which supported her easily. She sat like a princess in her hammock looking nervous and playing with her fingers, a child awaiting bad news.


    Having placed his passenger down safely, the Veil then turned his attention to the sound. It was closer than before, traveling on the wind and coming from more than one location. It was a howl that grew in intensity every few moments and then dropped off.


    Hearing the sound made him grow irritable as it came closer. He listened carefully to the wind and sniffed the air. Climbing about the treetop, looking in three different directions in sequence, his irritation changed to focus. His stance shifted, he settled and became obsessed. Turning his attention to the trunk of the tree he started to make his way back down.


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave me here!¡±


    Fawn was frantic as he climbed down.


    ¡°Clunk ... clunk ... clunk.¡±


    The Veil made his clear warning as he continued down the tree.


    ¡°Umm ok ... I¡¯ll ... just wait here.¡±


    She made her way to a suspended spot where she could see down the tree and out into the space around it. The light was starting to make its way over the Plains as morning returned to the area, bringing with it more light, more heat and more enemies.


    Reaching the base of the tree, the Veil was moving as a predator, focused on the howling coming from his left. There was now a clear separation in the sounds: one left and two right, all of the same type in resonance but with varying degrees of volume and depth.


    The left one was closer and moving faster than the other two, while one of the right-hand ones was heavier in its sound and moving more slowly.


    Fawn could see the dust clouds growing as the light increased its hold on the vast area, and she began to distinguish between the different clouds.


    She brought her attention to the closest one, narrowed her focus and peered into the dust. The animal was big enough to see at a long range. She was able to make out the basics of its shape. It was heavy set, traveled on a mixture of all fours and two legs, and it had thick, muscular limbs¡ªthree times the diameter of those which the Veil possessed.


    She could see a wide head and large eyes. It was now close enough to make out more details and there was no doubt that it carried predator''s teeth in its huge, heavy build.


    The Veil was intent upon the nearest threat. Fawn could see the Veil preparing himself. She watched him gather his energy like he had against the worms, placing his limbs carefully. He prowled toward the torrent of incoming dust and howling. For the first time she felt fear for the wellbeing of her guardian. Watching as he moved around the tree, it was obvious to her now that he was acting to ensure her safety.


    The idea that she would be waiting in a tree for a dangerous monster to protect her from another dangerous monster was surreal, and so strange to her that if she were not seeing it for herself, she would never have believed it possible. Observing her champion prepare for a fight made her stomach twist and turn. It caused pressure in her abdomen and a fluttering in her chest.


    I hope he is going to be ok. I have no idea how I would survive, or even get down.


    It dawned on her as she watched the coming battle that she was very dependent on this thing, this animal that had taken care of her for no apparent reason, and the thought made her scared and comforted at the same time.


    She had not felt like anyone, or indeed anything, would ever protect her after she lost her brothers, yet there was mounting evidence that this dark killer would do exactly that. Knowing she may never learn why he chose to save her was disappointing, but she could feel that it was motivated by something significant, and enduring.


    Circling the tree, the Veil readied himself for what was coming.


    The animal howling in the dust cloud was clearly bigger than the Veil and had a much more powerful physique. It moved with force and displaced the dirt and rocks about it as it did so. It knew its target now, breathing his scent fanned its fury. Doubling its speed, it began hurtling towards the Veil, the unmistakable shape of its head coming into view.


    It looked like a white-gray version of the Veil, its eyes the same wide oval, although they were blackened rather than the moving silver, and it had less concealed ears. Its teeth grew so large, they protruded outside of its mouth, crossing over each other in a random and varied way like those of an ancient reptile. Its face was wide and stout like that of the Veil, but it had a short snout shape that its cousin did not. Tearing through the dust cloud, it bore down on the Veil with massive hands, wider fingers and shorter white-gray claws. Snatching up a large rock as it ran, it made its way to its target.


    The Veil seemed frozen, crouched at the base of the tree, preoccupied with the apparent safety of the little one he hid above in the foliage.


    The heavy, violent monster was bearing down on him, drawing ever closer and armed with its rudimentary weapon. Its roar was clear: a howling combined with the grind of gravel.


    Fawn could feel the roar shake the bones under her skin from her place on the branches. It was a sound she would not have thought a living creature could make, much harsher and louder than that of her compatriot.


    An echo of this ghostly looking animal carried on the open air, the way the Veil¡¯s unique rumble and clicking did in the caves.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 22: Brutality

    Brutality


    The massive creature comes thundering in upon the Veil like light erasing a shadow. Its arms raised, rock in hand, it leaps into the air and brings the weapon down with enough force to break anything in its path.


    But the Veil ... is not there to be crushed.


    The dark shadow shifts himself aside with a movement so fast, the rock barely has time to strike the ground before he makes his counter.


    Thrusting his hand in a straight line, the Veil targets the throat of his attacker with immense force.


    He makes a cut that runs perfectly from one side of the creature¡¯s head to the other, slicing its neck to the bone. There is no time for the beast¡¯s reprisal, there is not even enough time for it to turn its head to see what happened.


    Its body hits the ground, and the Veil puts a second strike through its eye that cleaves it in half. He watches the gel drain from it.


    Fawn sees the heavy creature fall to the ground and bleed like everything else that has come after the Veil. She feels a cheer build in her lungs, but she knows now that the prudent thing is always to stay quiet.


    The Veil turns as the second dust cloud gets closer and louder.


    As he watches, he reaches his hand down and tears some of the teeth from his latest poorly educated assailant, and eats them while waiting for his next attacker.


    He casts his eye up to Fawn sitting in her hammock, and seeing she is fine, moves his attention to the next closest cloud.


    The sun is further up and it will soon be harder for the Veil to use his best vision, as he is now having to close his nictitating membranes to reduce the impact of the bright light on his sensitive eyes.


    The second cloud gains momentum and races closer, howling and eager to take out its rage on the Veil. As it comes into sight, the second creature sees what has become of its brethren and stalls its approach.


    The Veil notes the hesitation and makes his coarse, grating, clicking sound with more volume than usual.


    The pale beast lunges itself forward and makes a motion toward a small boulder sitting on the ground.


    This time the Veil takes exception to the attempt. As the white creature reaches for the boulder, the Veil streaks across the ground, low and fast.


    Making very little dust, he reaches the creature before it can obtain its weapon, and severs the offending arm at the elbow. Fresh blood scatters in an arc on the ground.


    Howling and writhing in pain, the second assailant scrambles back away from the Veil, yelping and recoiling from its catastrophic exsanguination.


    The Veil stands on his hind legs and roars at the grievously wounded opponent, but it is unneeded as the withering animal is already crawling away¡ªscreaming as its blood stains the dry ground.


    The second vanquished enemy causes a moment of uncharacteristic distraction for the Veil, drifting his gaze to the treetop to see how his Ward is keeping, with unfortunate timing.


    The third cloud suddenly collapses, the creature within it having already left the ground. It lands like a meteor onto the back of the Veil.


    The impact causes him to collapse immediately as the third attacker brings its fists down on his head. Thudding and cracking sounds emanate from the Veil¡¯s assaulted upper body, heralding the depth of his mistake in distraction.


    The impact cracks his bones: the force that the huge animal on his back exerts is incredible.


    From where she is sitting Fawn sees that her compatriot is downed and begins to panic.


    ¡°Oh no no no no. Gods, how can I help him?!¡±


    Fraught, she can do nothing but watch and hope.


    She sees how different this particular animal is from the others. It is bigger, far more powerful and has spikes along its spine.


    There are talon-like weapons on its elbows and along the underside of its wrists that it uses to amplify its strikes on the Veil. A collar of solid bone protects its neck like custom-made armor.


    Struggling beneath the constant barrage of the monster on his back, the Veil tries to pull himself from the prone position he¡¯s stuck in.


    Scraping forward, he  feels his lateral torso bones cracking. Even the immense thickness of his bones cannot save him from the incredible strength and determined ferocity of the savage attacker planted so thoroughly on his back.


    After a few more moments of extreme beating, the Veil¡¯s body goes limp, still and looks broken.


    There are holes in his back from the wrist weapons, and his tail is damaged where the animal is standing on it.


    This particular beast has clearly killed Veils before. It exhibits no ingrained fear and seems to have knowledge on how to cause him serious injury. A capable killer, that bears the presence of an Alpha of its species.


    After its target goes limp, the great monster climbs off his back, moves itself in front of the Veil, and begins to growl a terrible sound.


    It reaches for the Veil¡¯s head and grabs hold of it on each side. It leans in close and howls in his face. Moving back, it begins to squeeze and pull at its prone enemy.


    Just then, the forward-facing plates on the Veil¡¯s neck begin to move.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The beast holding his head is caught in curiosity and slides its hands down his neck to pull at the plates. It strikes the Veil on the side of his head as it does, like an irritable child.


    The plates continue to move, unfurling from the center outward, and as they do, a row of black, crystalline spikes protrude slowly from the space.


    As the spikes grow in length, their shape reveals knife-like edging facing forward and back. They continue to extend further out, and the beast reaches for them with little understanding of their capability.


    The spikes cleave its fingers the instant they make contact.


    A new howl of suffering rips the air, as the edges of the spikes slice through the flesh and bone of the beast so effortlessly, that it barely has time to react before two of its fingers are reduced to raw, shaking stumps.


    The Veil draws a long breath.


    ¡°Clunk ... clunk ... clunk.¡±


    The Veil moves his hand slightly, and the beast turns its attention to the movement.


    An instant later, the Veil¡¯s collar weapons extend to their full length, like a row of swords across his neck.


    Another moment passes and the Veil reaches up and forces his claws through the arm of the huge Alpha above him.


    It screams and brings its other fist down like a hammer, the barb on its wrist aiming for the Veil¡¯s shoulder, but it makes no contact as the Veil moves himself in a flash of dust.


    Rolling over, he swiftly severs the remaining fingers from the Alpha¡¯s hand, and begins to climb back to his feet.


    As he does, he brings his wounded tail up over his body, slamming it into the open wound on the Alpha¡¯s hand, again and again¡ªthe tail barb leaving egregious acidic damage with every strike that it makes.


    The Alpha screams, the corrosion eating through its bones as it flails madly to get free of the Veil¡¯s grasp.


    Swinging its free arm, the Alpha aims its strike for the Veil¡¯s head. As it comes down, the Veil shifts his head slightly and the fist lands on his collar blades, straight down, as if he had planned the attack himself. The Alpha¡¯s hand shreds against the row of organic blades.


    Hubris and assumption lead the Alpha to lose both hands in moments. A wild rage takes over and it moves its head forward, opening its fierce jaws and aiming a bite at the side of the Veil¡¯s face. As it comes close, it widens its powerful maw and bites into the Veil¡¯s blackened hide.


    The Veil feels the fangs of his enemy land, as the teeth start to cut through the flesh of his cheek. With this, he turns.


    The skin folds down, peeling away from his face and the biting Alpha, revealing rows of his teeth and crimson gums.


    With a brutal snap, the Veil catches the Alpha¡¯s teeth in his mouth.


    Corrosive agent foams around the fangs of his enemy as all the muscles of his jaw engage at once¡ªcrushing his enemy¡¯s teeth, splintering them in an instant.


    With a shattered hole in its teeth, the Alpha reels back, coiling what is left of its hands, screaming and struggling to put its feet underneath it.


    As it pulls away, the Veil, still chewing on the teeth he has taken, presses advantage, jumping across the ground towards it, cutting all the tendons of both its ankles.


    The Alpha learns about the true horror of the Veil. The reason it has terrified the creatures that live on this world for generations is not in its speed, or even its bone-rending claws, but its capacity for the exquisite, calculated, savagery and torture of any being that it deems to be an ongoing threat.


    Falling backwards, the Alpha rolls around trying to get some purchase on the rough ground, but with nothing but elbows and knees to grant it motion, it covers very little ground before the Veil is fully upright and standing over it, casting a shadow across it like the herald of an endless darkness.


    The Alpha¡¯s hand completely collapses from the caustic tail strikes it has suffered, each finger it tries to bend, snaps and crumbles into an emulsion of itself.


    The Veil stands watching it, and for a moment makes no movements of offense nor defense. He circles around the horribly wounded and now pitiful looking creature on the dirt.


    The Alpha makes a new sound now, a higher pitched wail, as it tries in desperation to move itself away from the foe it drastically underestimated.


    Fawn watches on as she feels the pressure in her shoulder¡¯s ease. She allows herself a moment of celebration, observing her champion now circling the downed beast, and although he is limping from the damage to his back, he is clearly still the incarnation of absolute force and cunning that she considers him to be.


    Knowing what the Veil has done to previous attackers he is offended by, she braces herself.


    This time the notion brings with it not fear, or even disgust. In fact, she is beginning to feel an excitement she has not felt before.


    She is now the only living thing that has encountered this ruthless predator and survived. More than that, he is guarding her.


    The Veil stops circling his prone victim and hooks his claw through the empty space in its jaw line, where once there were teeth. He drags the screaming creature into the shade of the tree on which Fawn is situated.


    The sun is getting higher now and he hates the feeling of it on his skin. His eyes, shielded with the membrane that protects them, reduce the spectrum and acuity of his sight significantly.


    The Alpha struggles to turn itself toward its attacker, but with both hands cut to pieces, and neither of its feet able to do anything but trail behind it, the struggle yields nothing.


    Biting left and right, trying frantically to gain a grip on the hand that drags it, the beast tears its own face as the Veil¡¯s claw passes through the space between its teeth, and slices a hole in its upper snout.


    Frustrated by the loss of grip, the Veil¡¯s calm calculation turns to fury for a moment. He turns to face the wounded head of the beast, curls his claws back, and begins striking the head of the prone Alpha with his palm, over and over, fast and accurate enough to hit the same spot every time.


    He follows the beast around as it moves to try and escape the pummeling, with no success.


    The cruel thumping continues until he has struck the Alpha on the head more than thirty times without missing his mark.


    Once the beast¡¯s movement slows to little more than twitching and sluggish biting, the Veil stops his assault and holds his quarry down with his foot.


    Recognizing what¡¯s coming, Fawn drifts her gaze from the fight and starts to examine the fiber that holds her aloft.


    I hate this part.


    Holding his next meal firmly in place, the Veil turns his attention to the Alpha¡¯s left leg and cuts a line from its lower back muscles all the way to its profusely bleeding ankle.


    The beast wakes from its daze and starts shrieking as the Veil heaves its shin bone from its proper place, cutting it from the tendons and cartilage of its knee.


    From the sound she can hear, Fawn knows what¡¯s going on. The memory of the cruelty that she has seen visited on the men who hunted her comes rolling back with all imaginable force. She felt herself clench her whole face to prevent the memory from taking hold.


    ¡°He did this to protect me just like ... last time.¡±


    She tried to hold on to the idea that her champion was heroic in his efforts to preserve her life, rather than the mounting feeling that he was, without exception, the most dangerous and cruel creature she had ever encountered.


    To her knowledge, even the Cast Soldiers didn¡¯t pull bones from living victims and eat them.


    Shuddering from the thought, she returned her attention to the fiber and its remarkable qualities. It was soft, flexible and strong. It seemed impossible for her to tear it or stretch it beyond a certain point.


    Each thread of foliage was held in place by a ductile sap at the ends and edges where it met the branches. The sap was intensely sticky at the spots where it had leaked from the tree recently, and incredibly strong once it had congealed and aged at the point where the sheets of fiber were bound to the branches.


    It looked as though the fiber grew from the branches, and was then carried on the wind to adjacent branches, then caught and held thereafter by the sap substance.


    There was an entire canopy as a result: a lattice of threads that began on one set of branches and looped over the others.


    Taking out her claw, she cut a small, young branch off closest to where she was sitting.


    The small branch she had cut immediately began to seep a significant amount of sap from the wound.


    With some effort she was able to cut a small section of canopy free.


    Acting quickly, she spread the sap upon the piece of fiber she had collected. The sap that had come into contact with the fibers directly, began to thicken into a powerful adhesive that disagreed with the skin of her forefingers immediately.


    ¡°Ow ow ... ooh don¡¯t touch it Fawn.¡±


    She managed to get the fiber sheet to stick to itself, far more successfully.


    Once she had made a piece that was successfully joined, she went on to attach it to the tree itself. The bond was very thorough, and almost instant.


    Pulling the sheet out flat, she worked to see how well it would stretch. Just as with the larger sheets, it would stretch easily to a point and then stop. Holding it taut, she thrust the claw at it, and although it made a small hole, it did not pierce through it. She sat back in amazement.


    ¡°This has to be how I make something better to wear ... somehow.¡±


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 23: Bound

    Bound


    The Veil keeps working his way up the legs of the Alpha, as he has done with the men before, peeling the skin and flesh from its leg.


    The screams coming from the creature reach a new peak. There is still no sign of him easing his victim¡¯s passing.


    As it tries to roll over one last time, the beast throws blood and dust at the Veil: it changes nothing.


    The Veil flicks his tail at the cut arm of the beast. Two or three strikes later, its flesh starts hissing as the toxin from his tail hits the blood.


    The Veil stands back again and watches as the damage is done.


    The beast rolls and scrapes its withering hand on the ground, trying in frantic desperation to get the poison off, but it only spreads further.


    The Veil, totally indifferent to the refreshed horror of its victim, stays out of reach and sits to watch.


    With acid burning both its hands, and blood pouring out of its wounds making a pool that softens the ground, it would soon be nothing but a cautionary tale to others of its species.


    Fawn glances tentatively from her perch in the tree, wondering if the fading, howling sound means that the fight is over, or that there is a pause in the feeding. She can¡¯t bring herself to look properly, the act was still too much for her to watch ever again.


    The Veil places himself at the head of the Alpha, pausing to look at its eyes.


    The beast has no strength left to stop him as he passes his claw through the skin at the base of its skull. The claw splits the skin like paper as he runs it up the back of the creature¡¯s head.


    Before it can do anything to stop him, the Veil cuts a ring around its head and begins to peel the skin up and off of it.


    The gargled noises of protest get louder for a moment, reaching up to Fawn, forcing her to cover her eyes and ears, with her palms and fingers, waiting for it to stop. Even though this thing would have undoubtedly killed her, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to enjoy the sound of its suffering.


    The Veil simply pulled the skin off the Alpha¡¯s head slowly and steadily like it was no more than peeling fruit.


    Covering her eyes and ears was not enough to stop the horrid gurgling from being obvious, nor the foul, acrid smell of perishing blood from finding its way past her hands.


    The smell took more from her than the sound. She gave up the hold on her head to grasp at her nose with both hands.


    It will be over soon. It will be over soon ...


    The thoughts circled her mind, round and round. The unlikely nature of the situation kept bringing her back to an idea: she had begun to think of herself as a long-term part of the Veil¡¯s life.


    Done with his torture of the Alpha, the Veil made a larger meal of the rest of its bones. A malodorous, harsh, crushing echo replaced the screams of his past victim.


    Once satisfied, he turned his attention to the tree keeping Fawn safe and made his way back to the top.


    He climbed slowly, with holes in his back and cracked torso bones. His tail injured and shoulder torn, the climb was hard and awkward for him, but there was no sign of any slip in his determination.


    Fawn heard him coming back up the tree and felt herself mix her feelings of relief with fear, as she had yet to know what he was like so soon after a long-suffering meal.


    As he crested the canopy, she saw the injuries he had sustained during the fight and her fear dropped away.


    ¡°Oh no. You¡¯re hurt.¡±


    She moved toward him quickly across the canopy net, reaching out.


    ¡°Clunk ... clunk ... clunk.¡±


    The Veil drew away from her and warned her off.


    ¡°It¡¯s ok. I¡¯ll help.¡±


    It was a nice gesture, but she had no idea how to make any difference.


    As she approached, she felt his breath gain heft, he was breathing harder than usual. She made her way to his hands and arms, looking them over.


    ¡°Clunk ... clunk¡ª¡±


    He pulled away and warned her off a second time, prompting Fawn to scold him as a mother might a child.


    ¡°HEY! You checked me before and I was naked! You hold still.¡±


    Feeling her determination and well meaning, the great animal sat still and released his arm to her. She took it and looked closely.


    ¡°What do I do here?¡±


    The Veil turned his head toward her.


    ¡°Mmmrrrmmm.¡±


    There was nothing he could tell her, but he seemed to value her attempt all the same.


    ¡°Umm, do you need bandage cloth?¡±


    She started looking closely at the wounds on his hands and feet, while trying to figure out where else he was broken.


    ¡°Lie down.¡±


    Her instruction had no effect. She sat for a moment and thought.


    ¡°Why do you listen sometimes and not others? There must be a reason. It¡¯s not like you can understand me ... is it?¡±


    She turned to look him in the eye.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Do I need to be louder? ... Lie Down!¡±


    The Veil simply turned his head, looked at her and then turned away.


    ¡°So, it¡¯s not that you can¡¯t hear me.¡±


    Fawn moved around, trying to figure out how to tell the great shadow before her to lie down so she could look at the wounds on his back. Sitting back down on the springy fiber, she looked at him doggedly.


    ¡°I really need you to lie down.¡±


    The Veil tipped his head and lay down.


    ¡°That ... Why did? ... Oh, never mind.¡±


    Puzzled, she got up and climbed onto his lower back, moving carefully so she could see the extent of the damage. As she clambered over his legs and up his hips, she could see the wounds were numerous and, in some cases, very deep.


    ¡°How do I help?¡±


    She stood where there were no wounds, looking down, trying to figure out what it was that she could do to help. The wounds in some places were slowly closing by themselves, but others were bleeding his strange, silver blood and looked like they would be there for some time.


    She climbed all over his back looking at the severity of each wound and doing what she could to stop the bleeding using the fiber sheets she had gathered while she was waiting.


    The effect was enough that she at least felt as though she had done something helpful for him.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do anything more, but ... but maybe it will help.¡±


    She climbed down off his back and took his finger in her hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you got hurt.¡±


    ¡°Mmmrrrmmmrrr.¡±


    The Veil responded to the affectionate touch she granted him.


    He curled his tail slowly to her back, keeping the barbed end away from her. In that motion she saw the wound in his tail. Collecting some more fiber, she wrapped the injury and stemmed the bleeding.


    The pained movement of the Veil proved to Fawn that her champion was not invulnerable. That thought was strangely sobering. As soon as she had bound the wound, his tail moved back to coil around behind her.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll call that your version of a hug.¡±


    She smiled a small, cautious smile, with a moment of understanding that she hadn¡¯t experienced before.


    For the first time in her life, she was the one in a position to help. She was the one who could change something: something big and powerful.


    She felt the influence she had over the mighty creature, and it was more power than she had ever wielded. The energy started to take her over, and the idea of using him to get whatever she wanted became intoxicating.


    Just at that moment the Veil stood and collected her with his hand.


    ¡°What? Oh, we¡¯re leaving?¡±


    It was a timely reminder that what she wanted was likely to come second to what he would see as necessary.


    She curled herself around his hand as he lifted her onto his back. She had learned that he did nothing idly, and so was quite happy to take her place again.


    This time she would occupy a slightly different location than before. He had retracted the collar blades in the middle of his neck but the furthest left and right ones stayed extended, providing footholds and lethal defense for his passenger.


    Because the blades of his collar ran with their edges facing forward and backward, Fawn found that if she kept her feet between them with an outward pressure, the leverage kept her safe from the blades, and had the added benefit of making it far easier for her to stay in place.


    Sitting astride her Warden, she felt as though there were no real threats anymore.


    The worms had proven nothing more than an inconvenience to him, the huge white-gray beasts were spread in pieces on the ground. As they moved down the tree, she looked across into the face of the Alpha beast hanging from a smaller tree, a grizzly statement.


    A totem to the force of the Veil ... her Veil.


    They ran across the Plains faster this time. The sun was high enough to cause discomfort for the Veil: his dark color bringing in more heat than he was accustomed to. Approaching the passageway, she could see the slurry of remains that were once worms. There was still some movement evident within the cave.


    As they got closer, she could see one of the worms moving around the cave, from wall to ceiling and back.


    One of the little brown animals was moving around the opening to the tunnel. It appeared to be fossicking for roots around the cave entrance where there was some residual moisture. As it moved closer to the cave, she saw it lift its head for a moment: just a cursory glance upward. It did not look long enough. She watched as the movement in the cave rapidly became more distinct.


    A streak of translucent silver comes from the cave wall. In a flash, the spear-like head of the worm has found its mark in the body of the small animal.


    Drawing upon massive unseen force, the worm starts to suck out the unfortunate creature¡¯s intestines.


    The poor animal¡¯s screeching takes over all other sounds as it is devoured slowly, and yet so absolutely. It struggles to escape its fate, but is losing blood, muscle, sinew and organs in a constant flow, as though a thread of everything that made it a living creature were being pulled through a small hole and eaten.


    Fawn buries her face in her arm.


    ¡°Ek! That¡¯s how they eat?! I hate those things!¡±


    The worm continues, taking all it could from the frantic little animal as it writhes and perishes in a terrible way.


    ¡°Oh ... I really, REALLY hate those things. Gods! ... ¡±


    She finds herself getting more horrified and aggravated with every breath.


    ¡°Can we kill it?!¡±


    This time it isn¡¯t about hoping for an answer, so much as an action.


    ¡°Please! ... How can I make you understand?¡±


    She obsesses relentlessly, her desire for something to be done building intensity within. Finally, her thoughts and emotions become cohesive.


    ¡°KILL IT!¡±


    A soft patch behind the Veil¡¯s ears twitches, he immediately gathers himself, and leaps across the ground toward the worm.


    Moving like a living shadow, he propels himself toward the still-eating worm. Closing the distance is a bit harder than usual as he struggles against the wounds in his back and shoulders.


    Fawn leans into the movement, ducking her head as they streak across the ground.


    The worm, still feeding, doesn¡¯t perceive them coming as the miserable animal in its grasp squeals. As they close in toward the worm, it finally flicks its head in their direction.


    ¡°Die!¡±


    The Veil jumps in the air, quickly covering the remaining distance between them.


    The worm reacts with a flurry of movement from its body to create a wave that travels up to its head. The force throws its head high in the air and brings the rest of its body out of the cave. A long, curved stinger protrudes from its tail and flies at the pair with incredible speed and force.


    The Veil shifts his weight and moves from the path of the strike. The stinger lands like a projectile in a nearby tree, shattering its trunk to splinters.


    ¡°Oof!¡±


    Fawn feels the impact in her body as it dawns on her that she is the reason they have started this fight. She has put her champion in danger, and suddenly truly understands its implications with withering concern. Her fear ... is quickly proven groundless.


    Moving itself out of the path of the attack, the Veil, furious at the worm''s attempt, flips himself and cuts the tail section from the worm with one strike. It falls away, gushing blood and entrails everywhere.


    He then leaps for the front section of the worm cutting it to ribbons as he travels up its whole length. As the pieces drop away, Fawn sees the remnants of the little animal it ate falling alongside the shredded worm pieces.


    Her words crack from her mouth, as if spoken with a sharpened tongue.


    ¡°Gods! ... One day I will learn to kill these MYSELF!¡±


    Awful slinking ... wormy ... Slinkworms! That¡¯s their name from now on. I hate them more than the Cast.


    The idea that she had found something that was innately more horrid than the ruthless and contemptible Cast was something that she had never imagined possible.


    The Veil moved to the side of the cave entrance, panting as he did so. Clearly the fight had taken an unusual toll. He sat next to the small plants that the little, brown animal had been eating.


    Looking down at the scattered body parts of the worm¡¯s victim, Fawn felt a pang of sadness for their attack on the ¡®Slinkworm¡¯ having come too late to save the little thing from such an awful death.


    I need to call these something too ... It¡¯s like a dusty plant nibbling thing ...


    Fawn almost jumped to her feet.


    ¡°Dusty Snuffles!¡±


    Smiling to herself, she eased back again.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ll call them. Dusty Snuffles and Slinkworms.¡±


    She felt a sense of pride having dubbed two new animals with their names.


    ¡°I have no idea what to call the big white-gray things you killed though.¡±


    She looked down at the resting Veil.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have a name for them. If only you could tell me.¡±


    Reaching forward, she stroked her hand across the armored scales that had retracted their blades from his neck for her.


    They both sat in silence for a moment. Then the Veil rose and moved them inside the cave. As they passed into the dark of the cave, the Veil eased.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t like the light, do you?¡±


    Fawn watched as his eyes returned to their normal state.


    They began to travel back along the passageway. Fawn almost felt at home in the dark, stone space, although the concern of Slinkworms remained on her mind.


    The noise from her starving stomach echoed through the cave.

 Chapter 24: Separation

    Separation


    ¡°Can we go a little faster?¡±


    Her mount was tired now, and had a good deal of pain running through his body. Fawn sat back and held her stomach with one hand.


    I hope Dusty Snuffles taste ok ...


    Her mind turned to the strips of meat she still had. The thought of having to eat something that she had no desire to kill was disquieting, but starvation was a gripping motivator.


    The small soft patch behind the Veil¡¯s ear moved. He picked up speed.


    ¡°Oh, thank you. I¡¯m sure you understand me sometimes. Still don¡¯t know why though.¡±


    Maybe in time she would be able to communicate more specific things with him. The idea was encouraging, and a comfort she needed more of. They made their way through the maze of tunnels with no further threats. The Slinkworms seemed to keep to the Plains¡¯ side of the passage. Fawn was relieved.


    Before long they passed over the wall separating their retreat from the rest of the cavern network. A familiar smell¡ªgood and bad¡ªcame from the space.


    After they came down from the wall, the Veil took them both over to the pool, and lay down to water himself. Fawn leaned forward and slid off him to do the same. A large hand stopped her.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    He kept drinking while holding her back. Once he finished, he collected the moss that he had gathered for Fawn. He gave her the moss and retreated quietly to his corner.


    ¡°But why ... ?¡±


    She looked into the strange, silver-colored water wondering why she was prevented from drinking it, and moved closer. As she stared at the water she saw the blood and bone remnants from the Veil¡¯s jaws disperse, and slowly degrade into dissolution.


    ¡°What? But I swam and washed in there.¡±


    She watched as the final fragments dissolved.


    She dipped her foot part way into the water and flinched, half expecting it to dissolve as well.


    There was no such reaction. She withdrew her little foot¡ªclean, cool and unharmed.


    Puzzled, she sat back at the edge of the pool, enrobed her moss in cloth, and drank the cooling result.


    She dropped a small piece of the fiber sheet she had brought from the Plains tree into the pool. It plumped with moisture almost immediately, then shed it all once she lifted it from the pool. She watched as the dust and dirt fell from the fiber along with all of the water.


    Cleaner and feeling somewhat at home, she curled against the wall to rest.


    Fawn awoke with a hunger that could destroy the hope of a grown man. She looked around the Veil¡¯s retreat, and saw he was still at rest, a hulking organic boulder, barely discernibly alive.


    She stood up and made for the strips of meat she had brought back. The Veil watched her pick them up and bring them to her mouth, hesitating. He warned her off audibly, causing her to drop her hand to her side.


    ¡°I¡¯m so hungry!¡±


    She complained bitterly, with tears building in her eyes, the smell of the raw meat turning her stomach, already nauseous with hunger.


    ¡°I need to cook it. Oil Brush. I need Oil Brush ... can you take me?¡±


    She made her way over to the entrance wall.


    ¡°Help. I need to eat!¡±


    Desperation was mounting in her voice, tears in her eyes. The Veil went to the retreat wall, slowly, and in pain. He gathered her up and climbed the wall making his way out to where he had found her.


    ¡°I know where we are now.¡±


    She felt a surge of motivation, almost dismounting before he stopped. As soon as he lay down, she jumped off, collected her claw and meat, and headed for the opening.


    ¡°Will you still be here when I come back?¡±


    She stopped, and looked back at him hopefully, then turned away and made her way through, to the outer entrance way.


    As soon as she hit the sunlight, her doubts grew again, and she went back through to see if he was still waiting.


    Will he stay close?


    The thought of being without him was terrifying. As she got back inside she saw him, sitting in the cold of the cavern like nothing had changed.


    ¡°Mmmrrrmmmrrr.¡±


    His sound bounced around, echoing a sound that Fawn had come to know as comfort.


    Reassured, she left the cavern, passed through to the outer cave and carried on out. Scaling down the cliffside, she quickly found several Oil Brush plants. Gathering them was easy, the claw sliced through the wood like soft flesh.


    After a short time, she had what she wanted, enough to start many fires. Next, she sought some basic wood from larger bushes. She knew little of cooking fires but this part had come to make sense to her. How much wood to use, and what to do next, was all going to have to be worked out as she went.


    Climbing back up to the entrance cave proved harder than usual, she was feeling real exhaustion. She made it to the cave, and sat in the corner to make what she could of a fire. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    It was easy enough to curl the Oil Brush and strike it the way she had been taught. The new challenge for her was making a fire big enough to feed herself. She started with a small burn.


    I think this is right.


    She kept hoping she knew what to do as the flames gained voracity.


    The little fire made her think of home for a moment. Looking into the flames, she felt the memories gathering. For the first time, she felt the weight of possibility. Like a stone rolling just out of reach, the thoughts of why and what if, took their toll. She knew in her heart that what she had done was survive, but it felt ... so heavy.


    What if I just hadn¡¯t changed my dress?


    Sorrow came quickly as she thought about her actions.


    I ... I¡¯m the reason I¡¯m all alone.


    The idea that she was the cause of her own misery was too much for a child.


    Feeling morbid and awfully solitary, she took up some of the meat strips, began placing them on the fire and sat back. She reached into the flames with a piece of stalagmite. The meat she withdrew showed no sign of being cooked properly.


    ¡°Even I know that¡¯s no good.¡±


    A deep frown set into her forehead as she remembered Ikan placing food across two stones once when she was small.


    ¡°Oh, I know.¡±


    She collected two or three flat stones from the cave. Placing them directly on the fire, she nearly demolished it.


    ¡°No! ... ¡±


    She was getting more frantic than thoughtful, hunger getting the best of her. Propping up one side of the flat stone, she kept the fire burning. A couple of strips sat easily on the sloped stone, the remaining moisture keeping them in place.


    She stood and went further into the cave, checking to make sure she was still without human company, but not yet entirely abandoned. The Veil sat calmly looking up at her as she came in. It was as though he had expected her at exactly that moment. With a sense of relief, she walked to him. Her fear had abated now. She was at peace in his company.


    ¡°Why do you protect me?¡±


    His silent reactions to her questions had come to feel like reassurance.


    ¡°Why ... me? And why still?¡±


    She felt his presence and knew he was listening: if only because he had little else to do, but she felt calmed all the same.


    Satisfied that he was going to wait, she went back to her cooking fire, which was more of a hot ember than a functioning fire. The first meat she had placed down was burnt. She ate it all the same: it was at least food.


    ¡°Blah, that¡¯s ... really bad.¡±


    Its flavor was that of dirt and blood, little else was discernible. Regardless though, it had the charm of being the first food she had eaten in days. Lamenting the relatively flavorsome dried meats she had stolen, she sat back down and prepared more.


    Maybe I can do something to make this ...  less terrible.


    But there was little information in her young mind as to how that was possible. She struggled to remember anything else that was wild and edible.


    ¡°I miss you Ikan, you always knew how to make food from anything.¡±


    Muttering to herself was as close to conversation with her passed brother as she was going to get. The memory of him making her food, whenever he could, was such a happy one that it made her smile for a moment.


    ¡°What would he say now? Probably: ¡®You can¡¯t eat that Baby Fawn, that¡¯s not food.¡¯ Like he used to when I ate nothing but Sweet Stars ... ¡±


    Her head fell downward.


    ¡°I miss you so ... ¡±


    With tears in her eyes, she reached for another strip of dark, earthen meat.


    ¡°I miss you both so much.¡±


    Tears poured down her face. She could no longer make out her food. She curled on the floor.


    ¡°I miss food. I miss gentle words. I miss cuddles ... ohh ¡­ ¡±


    She sucked air through lips drenched in tears.


    ¡°I have no one ... and nothing.¡±


    Her sobbing reached a loud, torn note of hopelessness.


    The Veil moved himself to her back and lay behind her. She turned, curled herself into his flank, and cried like there was no life left in her. Once her eyes were dry and her hands wet, she fell into a deep sleep¡ªwrapped closely by her Warden.


    A small ray of light strobed across her eyes, shaking her from her dreams. Stretching and looking around, she felt more rested than she had in a while. Her feeling of calm was quickly taken as she realized she was alone. The Veil had gone at some point, leaving behind some gathered Moisture Moss for her.


    ¡°What? ... Where? ... ¡±


    She rose quickly, looking around her, heart sinking.


    ¡°Why did he leave?¡±


    Running quickly around the cave, she felt panic starting to build. He was definitely gone, and had left no sign of why.


    ¡°Oh no ... ¡±


    She crumpled to the floor holding her knees, tears starting to gather again. Feeling suddenly more alone than ever, her lower lip slid out, catching tears.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think he ... would just go.¡±


    The idea was daunting. He had rescued her from such horrors and so she knew how terrible the threats could be. Now all she had was a deeper fear, and no protector.


    As her fear intensified, there came a moment when she almost gave in. Breathing too quickly, she felt herself lose touch with her courage.


    ¡°I can¡¯t be alone again, can I?¡±


    Having company had made her last few days almost bearable. Now, the feeling of loneliness was far heavier than ever before. She soon understood that if she was alone again she would need a way to stop starving every day.


    The idea of going back to the Village was awful: she felt like there was nothing good to be had there. But she had no better ideas. Traversing the caves on her own was not an option.


    She gathered the moss the Veil had cut for her and extracted enough water to go with her dry, burnt meat from the night before.


    After some time chewing her poor food, she began to understand that there may be no other way. Gathering what was left of her provisions, she shook the dust from her hair and made her way outside to get back to the Village. She needed to learn more about how to get by on her own: the limit of her skills was quickly going to be her undoing.


    ¡°There¡¯s only one way to know ...  what to do.¡±


    She began down the cliff face with her usual skill and coordination. Moving during the day was not normally something that she would risk, but there was a need to learn how to cope with that too. As the dust and stone passed under her feet, there was more resolve building in her mind.


    If I¡¯m going to end up on my own, I don¡¯t want to be scared all the time.


    Having to look after herself seemed less impossible than before.


    With her courage improving she carried on, looking out over the orange and brown land that she had seen all her life, but never understood. There was much more here than she ever thought possible, reaching beyond the dust cloud of her childhood.


    She thought about the animals she had seen and wondered whether others knew of them. There was a strange notion to the feeling that she may well be the only one who had ever seen them.


    Maybe I am the first to name the Dusty Snuffles.


    A glimmer of pride took hold in her mind.


    But ... what do the Ohuns bring back to the Village then?


    This idea was confusing. She had never seen what it was that they hunted, or if it was a little brown snuffling thing. The families were only allotted a limited amount of the fresh collected food, based on their contributions to the Village. Her family was rarely in the position to get any, as her mother had never truly contributed, and the hard work of her brothers was only ever considered an expectation. Of course, the method by which it was decided who got what was not entirely fair.


    As she walked along in the dust, staying mostly away from any paths, she found herself more and more attuned to the dirt, and the wild land.


    Fawn had never really felt like she was truly a part of the Village. She had not really felt as though she even had a great deal in common with other humans, and it was nice to feel a little closer to something: even if it was just the dust she walked on. Acting differently and feeling unusual were things she had become accustomed to, but actually being different¡ªthat was a new possibility.


    The concept took her thoughts around and around, soaking up all her grief and trouble for a time. The break was welcome.


    Sitting down to lean against a rock and pull cloth over her head, like a simple hood, gave her a quiet moment. She drew some water from the moss in her bag and ate some of the poor food she had managed to prepare. The food and water were welcome regardless of their low standard: there was motivation in their murky flavor. Slowly wearing down the coarse sustenance, she let her mind wander.


    Why are there none of those huge tree things here?


    Trees were something she had been taught of, but not seen. Looking out as far as she could across the dust and beyond the Village, she couldn¡¯t understand why people stopped here.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 25: Prejudice

    Prejudice


    With a moment of rest, the pain in her once-skewered foot became more pronounced. Pulling her foot up to her face, she examined the wound. There was still the hole that the sword had left, but the flesh had begun to close over the edges. The idea that the Soldier may actually have wounded her forever was both depressing and aggravating.


    She wrapped her foot again, grateful that the water of the Veil¡¯s cavern didn¡¯t dissolve her foot as it had other things. She began to think about the fiber and sap combination she had found at the top of the immense tree. As she got up and continued walking, she thought about how she might fashion the fiber into something she could use.


    Mulling over the idea as she walked, she imagined there must be some way to do it, but she knew precious little about the making of clothing or armor, from such a rudimentary material. The idea had taken a firm hold now and she would work on it until she had some kind of design in mind.


    Her walk felt a little more like a time to think, rather than a desperate hunt for survival. She was about halfway now, and the sun was getting too high to travel comfortably. Moving herself further off the path she had taken before, she sought out somewhere to shelter. She found a large rock formation with natural shelving made from dust, sediment and time. The high and broad nature of the layering meant shade, and that was what mattered.


    Hiding from the sun was something that had been a daily habit for her and everyone else in the Village for as long as anyone knew. It was part of normal life. The shade felt like an old friend, and she positioned herself in an indent in one of the taller rocks and resolved to wait. The position had plenty of space for her, and a gentle breeze. Before too long, she began to feel a little more settled. Looking out around the area, she enjoyed the sight. Being able to take the time to just watch was a privilege.


    Enjoying things as she was, she almost forgot that she was still being hunted. It was a nice break, but she eventually realized she couldn¡¯t see in all directions. With the mountain range behind her and the Village ahead, she had thought herself walking a path that no one else would travel, but she knew it was better to be cautious than off guard.


    Examining the rock formation more carefully, she found a way to climb up higher and scout further afield. She was still alone, but feeling the need to check was enough to put her back on edge. She wanted to stay shaded for longer, so she climbed down and settled in for an extended wait.


    Some time passed and the sun was easing into the afternoon. A dust cloud¡ªsmaller than those that blew across the open areas normally¡ªdisturbed her rest. She turned her attention to the direction of the cloud.


    People!


    Her calm was gone: there were clearly voices and movements coming her way.


    They must have been gathering brush in the fields.


    She focused all her attention on the sound they made. There was no doubt they were coming from behind her.


    I thought there was nothing out there ...


    She moved around the rock, sidling away from their incoming noise. As she did, she could hear the voices, in four or five different tones. Distinction was easier for her now, having spent so much time in silence. The group seemed to be dividing: three voices continued along the common path towards the Village, while the other two came closer to the formation.


    A man¡¯s voice: he sounded older, but not elderly.


    ¡°I¡¯m so hot ... I need some shade.¡±


    The voice of a young woman replied.


    ¡°Ok fine, I¡¯ll wait with you. I told you not to come with us.¡±


    As they came closer, Fawn crossed to the opposing side of the formation. This would once have been considered just a game. The man rounded the corner first. She could see him from the space she had found. He was older with gray hair and stiff movements. The woman behind him was carrying a large bundle of Oil Brush and a waterskin.


    Where did they get so much?


    She got caught up for a moment by the surprise that there was somewhere to gather brush in such quantities. The idea of having a water container was appealing as well. Moss was not always easy to carry.


    As the man sat himself down, she could see he was tired. Gathering in the sun for any length of time was draining, but it was mostly left to the young. The woman kicked at the small stones scattered about the ground in her frustration.


    ¡°Why do you do this every time?¡±


    She turned, infuriated, looking at the man sitting under the shade of the outcropping.


    He turned to meet her glare with indignation.


    ¡°You can¡¯t instruct me, woman.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I can! You slow us down and annoy me.¡±


    This contempt went on for a time, until eventually the woman strode away in anger. As Fawn watched the woman go, she began to move from her hiding place to find somewhere safer.


    The man stood.


    ¡°I¡¯m not carrying all this, stop being lazy!¡±


    Aggravated, the woman spun to react. Fawn had moved too soon.


    ¡°You!¡±


    Fawn panicked and froze. This woman was the first person to lay eyes on her since the Hunter. There was no Veil to save her this time.


    ¡°I ... I was just walking ... to gather brush.¡±


    She struggled to sound genuine. Fawn was not a liar by nature. The situation got bad for her quickly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you! You could be trying to steal from me.¡±


    The woman steps closer. Fawn takes up her gift from the Veil and holds it close with both hands.


    ¡°No, I was just¨C¨C¡±


    She cowers away from the woman, having no idea what to do. Confrontations of this type were exactly why she shouldn¡¯t travel during the day.


    ¡°Sheya, why must you assume the worst of everyone? She may just be gathering as we are.¡±


    The man steps forward and reaches for Fawn¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she means no harm.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    He turns her gently to face him.


    Fawn clutches her precious claw to her breast. Wrapped in the fiber cloth, and so dear to her, she holds it like a child¡¯s comforter, rather than a weapon.


    ¡°Please. I just want to be on my way.¡±


    The man looks her up and down momentarily, his gaze stalling as he meets her eyes.


    ¡°My, you are a stunning wee thing aren¡¯t you. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen such a beauty in my life.¡±


    Caught up in his admiration of the child, he forgets the woman still storming toward them.


    ¡°What difference does it make what she looks like?!¡±


    Sheya reaches to turn Fawn back toward her. They are both taller than Fawn by quite a bit, the usual differential between children and adults.


    ¡°She looks not more than ten cycles.¡±


    The woman grabs at her roughly. Fawn hopes for just treatment.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt me.¡±


    ¡°You ...  can no more tell me what to do than he can.¡±


    She snatches Fawn by the shoulders and begins to shake her violently.


    Hurt and tension form in the man¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Stop it, Sheya!¡±


    She pays no attention and pushes the little girl against the rock.


    ¡°Tell me your intent!¡±


    She continues on at Fawn as she cowers further, holding tightly to her fiber-wrapped claw.


    ¡°And what are you holding?¡±


    Her voice bears a strained tone, getting louder with each question.


    Fawn curls herself in fear, clenching her eyes, and trying to imagine what to do.


    ¡°I will not be tricked by you, how you look is ... is nothing to me!¡±


    She gains a more acute anger as the clear lie falls from her lips.


    ¡°Sheya! What is wrong with you?¡±


    The man, horrified, reaches out to prevent any further shaking and threatening of the child he sees panicking before him.


    ¡°I want to know what she¡¯s doing! Why she¡¯s here, and what she hides!¡±


    Her words are grating now.


    ¡°There is no good reason for a Girl Child to be out here alone like this unless she¡¯s a criminal. Even this ...  ugly little monster.¡±


    She pushes at Fawn again and again, knocking her into the rock behind her.


    ¡°You should know better than to be so awful. I can¡¯t allow this.¡±


    The man grabs at her, trying to pull her away.


    ¡°That¡¯s not your decision!¡±


    She reacts in utter fury as he grasps at her arm, striking him with her elbow.


    He looks hurt and shocked as his eye wells with a fresh bruise.


    ¡°Wha¡ª¡±


    He reaches for her again, disbelief replacing sense, as her elbow again comes flying back and up at him.


    ¡°No man will ever control me!¡±


    Her elbow hits hard, striking the older man right under his nose. A strange wet cracking sound comes from the impact. Still obsessed with her target, Sheya lays blame.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have a broken nose if you had just stopped.¡±


    Fawn hears the rest of the sound that comes from the impact, a dry snap and a dull thud, then the sound of the man hitting the ground. The angle of the strike not only breaks his nose, but shatters it¨C¨Cdriving a splinter into the soft tissue of his brain.


    Fawn screams as she watches him collapse suddenly to the ground.


    ¡°You¡¯ve killed him!¡±


    Sheya slams her heel onto the top bones of Fawn¡¯s foot.


    ¡°Shut up animal, he¡¯s ok.¡±


    ¡°No, he¡¯s not, LOOK!¡±


    Fawn feels terrible for the poor, well-meaning man bleeding onto the dust.


    Sheya turns her attention to the downed man.


    ¡°What are you doing? Get up.¡±


    She finally looks closely at him.


    ¡°Troen?¡±


    She stares at his motionless body.


    ¡°TROEN?!¡±


    She shakes him and pulls back, her hand over her mouth, turning to Fawn with hatred amassing behind her tears.


    ¡°This is your doing, you little beast.¡±


    She puts full force into a wide swing of her arm and slaps the cowering girl hard across the face.


    Fawn starts to cry.


    ¡°I did nothing!¡±


    Desperately, she tries to defend her innocence of the situation.


    ¡°It¡¯s your fault, stupid girl.¡±


    Sheya begins to slap her again, alternating both hands, each strike, punctuating the hits. She keeps hitting her, first left hand, then right.


    ¡°Stupid girl¡±¨C¨Cwhack, whack¨C¨C¡°who thinks pretty¡±¨C¨Csmack¨C¨C¡°can save her.¡±


    Fawn tries to plead with the hysterical woman as she ducks down, lifting the claw to shield her head.


    ¡°Please stop!¡±


    Sheya starts screeching, pulling Fawn¡¯s outermost hand from its place around the still-wrapped claw.


    ¡°How dare you! I will punish you for hiding.¡±


    She pulls Fawn¡¯s arm out straight.


    ¡°You won¡¯t be so defiant with a broken arm.¡±


    Holding her arm stretched to its maximum, the enraged woman begins to bludgeon at it with her hand.


    The obtuse injustice of Fawn¡¯s suffering now takes precedence over the harsh pain building in her terribly bruised arm.


    ¡°Why?! I ... DID ... NOTHING!¡±


    Sheya¡¯s frustration accumulates as she is not able to break the child¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Don¡¯t shout at me!¡±


    Eventually, she scoops up a large stone from the ground.


    Still hoping to find a reasonable person buried somewhere within her assailant, rather than nothing but a savage animal, Fawn tries her appeal once more.


    ¡°Gods! Please don¡¯t!¡±


    She pulls frantically at her trapped arm. It has no effect on the maddened woman.


    ¡°My uncle couldn¡¯t stop me: you will NEVER stop me!¡±


    She brings the stone down with all the force she can muster: driven by hate, misery and subjugation. Cycles of feeling less than other women; a lifetime of failing to defend herself; and a generation of anger are being visited on a little girl¡¯s arm all at once.


    The rock lands hard.


    Sheya readies herself to take advantage of the atrocious injury she has inflicted.


    Fawn¡¯s arm, however, does not break. The stone bounces against the bone, slips from Sheya¡¯s grasp and falls to the ground.


    Fawn screams and lifts the parcel in her other hand.


    ¡°Stop hurting ME!¡±


    She strikes the claw down onto the forearm of the seething woman. The force with which she brings the claw to bear is more than she imagined she was capable of. It pierces through its fiber wrapping and into her attacker¡¯s arm.


    Sheya lurches suddenly as she learns that what was concealed in the child¡¯s hands is no mere toy.


    Her movement takes her backward, while Fawn holds her precious claw with all her strength.


    The crystal-lattice edge of the Veil¡¯s claw sinks quickly into the shrieking woman¡¯s arm, passing deep into the flesh with no resistance¨C¨Clike a spoon into soft mash.


    The claw slips between the two primary bones of her arm, cleaving veins and arteries. The woman pulls away harder, driven by excruciating pain.


    Holding her claw with every ounce of strength that she can muster, Fawn closes her eyes and pulls it back.


    Unable to believe what has happened, Sheya tries her escape one last time. She watches so much of her blood flood out onto the ground, that it splashes onto her cloth shoes, as though someone emptied an entire waterskin filled with blood onto the dirt beside her feet. The movement she chooses proves to be her worst mistake.


    Although it is held by a child, the predator¡¯s claw does what it has evolved to do: sliding through the woman¡¯s tendons, then cartilage without resistance.


    Finally, she slips in the fresh, shallow mud made of her blood and stumbles backward, yanking at her arm.


    She watches as the claw splits her wrist bones, palm and then second finger. The sound of her screams grow ever louder, until her will fails.


    Falling into shocked silence, she tries to clutch at her arm as it peels away in two separate directions. The bones divide from each other, taking with them all flesh.


    Trying to walk, she stumbles a few paces.


    ¡°But ... I ... I hit her ... the rock ... but ... I ... why didn¡¯t  ... it break? ... But she¡¯s just ... I ... I can¡¯t ... ¡±


    Her breath is broken, sharp and final. She falls onto her face with a dull crack.

 Chapter 26: Merciful

    Merciful


    There seemed to be no end to the disaster that followed the humans Fawn encountered. It was as though they all had the same desire to hate her, or each other. Fawn was grateful this time that no one had heard the protests of the last to die in her company, as the drive to punish her for existing seemed to be something that pushed the villagers to extremes.


    Sitting against the rock formation, Fawn held her bruised arm close against her body. So much of her wanted to cry again for the terrible experience that her life had turned into, but there was more to it than that.


    As she held her arm to her, she could feel the dents in the flesh on the top of her forearm where the woman had struck it. They were beginning to ease back now, and she could tell there was no evidence of a broken bone. The pain was ferocious and it made her shake, but it was not unending and she soon felt it level off.


    Looking at the older man who had been the first person to act on her behalf since her brothers were alive, she wondered why it was so important to the woman called Sheya, to beat her. In the end she killed her uncle¨C¨Csimply so she could hit a child for longer.


    Fawn began to understand that people were dangerous by default.


    The idea that she was attacked by hatred was frightening, but the fact that not everyone knew who she was, gave her a glimmer of hope. At this point, a savage beating was much better than being subjected to hanging, or the Heretic¡¯s Death.


    Stroking her arm gently, she could tell it was getting better quickly.


    Encouraged, she flexed her hand back and forth. She could feel no sign of restricted movement. The violent woman¡¯s efforts to break her arm had left no permanent damage.


    There was a new calm sweeping over her: the tearful feeling set aside by the fascination with the welfare and capacity of her own bones.


    Walking over to where the unfortunate man had fallen, she knelt down beside him and reached for his hand. For the first time she felt sadness for the loss of someone¡¯s life, without it being something she was overwhelmed by. This man was nothing to her, but it still seemed unnecessary for him to die.


    She placed his hand on his chest and closed his eyes.


    ¡°Thank you for calling me ¡®a beauty¡¯ and trying to help. Rest now.¡±


    There was a peace to the moment. She felt the action of silence take the place of suffering and embraced it. She looked down at her treasured Veil¡¯s claw.


    She was beginning to understand the significance of what it was she had. An organic weapon that could rend people as though they were made of tree sap, and likely the only one held in the hands of a child, ever in history.


    She cleaned the claw, wiping it on her clothes, with reverence for both its power and danger. The blood came off easily and she was able to wrap it again in some more fiber.


    As she tucked it away at her side, she saw that it had a ring of bone-like substance at the base of the claw that was attached to the crystalline part, in a sequence. The intermittent nature of the connection had left a series of holes around the edge of the base of the claw.


    Maybe I can tie this to me somehow. It would be good to know it was always attached.


    Collecting her focus, she got up from the side of the dead man who was now accumulating dust and dirt about his edges.


    She walked a few paces away from him and turned to look back. The dust was already enveloping him, there would soon be nothing to see.


    As she walked toward the gruesome scene that was the woman on the ground, her eye was caught by the waterskin and bundle of Oil Brush.


    She picked up the skin and threw its strap over her shoulder, then lifted the brush onto her back. Her version of heavy was different from that of other children, but it was nice to feel no extra burden.


    With her water and plentiful fire-starters on board, she rose to observe where her latest attacker had fallen.


    She stood, looking at the body. One arm appeared more like a broken, chopped-up bird¡¯s wing than a person¡¯s arm. She felt less than she thought she might about the woman, neither sadness nor anger.


    ¡°It really feels like people die wherever I am ... I¡¯d like ... to just talk to someone.¡±


    Giving up on the idea of anything useful coming from the company of another dead person, she carried on her way.


    The body of Fawn¡¯s latest threat was left gathering dust, forming a grave above ground.


    Walking slowly with her head down, she pulled her basic hood up the back of her neck and over her head.


    The idea was starting to sink in that there may not be anyone who was nice, or pleasant. Doing anything other than just getting by was fast becoming a distant memory. The thoughts took hold that she may be on her own for a long time, and it was made worse by the knowledge that she had the Veil with her previously, and yet now without him she felt even more alone than before. She glanced back up at the cliff.


    I wish I¡¯d never met him sometimes.


    She had never imagined that she could find more in common with an animal like that than she would with people, but it was true.


    Walking, thinking and waiting for the sun to go down further, were proving insufficiently absorbing to keep her mind from hurting her feelings.


    She pulled up the claw from her side and looked at the spaces at its base. They were evenly spread out and had no sign of flexibility. Cutting one of the fiber sheets into strips as thin as she could manage, she started to weave a rope as best she could.


    ¡°Over, under,  ... over ... something?¡±


    The idea proved easier in concept than it was in practice. As she walked and wove, her thoughts started to drift from isolation and violence.


    The shadows grew longer as she wandered, and the sun lost some of its anger. It was good to know that the night was coming. She really did do better in darkness. Somehow the dark felt like it had fewer fangs than the daylight. It made others nervous, but for Fawn it simply calmed the heat of the day.


    As she grew up, Fawn had always found herself more comfortable in the dark than she ever was in the light. Being in full sight of people was not something that had led to a lot of good in her life.


    As the shadows slid together, she felt better about her life, and quickened her pace toward the Village.


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    I have to figure out what I need and where to get it.


    She kept thinking about the places she had been before, and whether they had things she could use, or food she could eat. The problem though was the people, not the food. She was at a loss as to how to stay away from people while staying within reach of what she needed. After what she had seen she would not make the mistake of assuming people were going to be gentle with her anymore.


    The nice, older man who helped her had ended up adding to the number of those who died simply by being close by. If there were good people that would help, they might just end up under a pile of those gathering dust.


    Walking further over the course of the evening she found herself thinking of Eris and recalling how he taught her that Oil Brush lights a fire when you crush it hard enough between stones. This was a key piece of survival information for her as it turned out.


    She remembered the conversations they used to have about life at the Village, and what it might have been like if they had never grown up there.


    Fawn would listen tirelessly as he spoke about what it meant to understand who you were, and ask questions about who others were. He was, when needed, a practical man, but preferred to wander the vast wasteland of philosophy given the time to do so.


    Often, he would sit down to teach Fawn about something in particular, and then they would end up on a long, distant thought about something seemingly disconnected.


    His lessons for her about an activity would often translate to information about people. One such time she had been struggling to shape a new spoon and its edges were coming out rough and coarse. The harder she tried, the worse it got.


    Eris sat next to her and placed his hand on her knee.


    ¡°Slowly, little one, there is no usable spoon made of something so rough.¡±


    She sat back against the wall of the house, looking down at the ugly wooden shape in her hands.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired and this isn¡¯t getting any easier, or any nicer.¡±


    The frustration and disappointment had gotten the better of her.


    ¡°I keep cutting at it and all that happens is it keeps looking cut.¡±


    She picked up one of Ikan¡¯s handy work, turning the beautiful spoon in her fingers. She could feel the smooth, soft texture, and smell the light tone of wood and Oil Brush oil. Even the sound was different. His made a subtle rasping as she twisted it about, while hers sounded like a handful of stones rubbed against a table.


    Eris worked to encourage her further.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about what you do, it¡¯s about what you think.¡±


    She looked up at him trying to understand.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    A look of confusion took over her whole face.


    ¡°Well ... the spoon will take shape based on how you feel, not what you want.¡±


    ¡°How can that be true? ... ¡±


    She kept looking back at her spoon in disbelief.


    ¡°Well, how do you feel?¡±


    ¡°Frustrated.¡±


    She leered at the rough, crude implement she was trying to fashion, made of more corners than anything.


    ¡°Ah I see, and does that look like the spoon of a frustrated person?¡±


    He leaned forward and nudged his head against hers.


    Fawn let out a long sigh.


    ¡°I suppose it does.¡±


    Leaning into him, she sat the spoon-shaped disappointment on her tiny foot.


    ¡°So, how do I ... feel a better spoon? At this speed I will starve to death before I can make it.¡±


    Eris laughed loudly.


    ¡°Oh ok, first we would never let you starve. Ikan would make you whatever you need.¡±


    His younger brother came to join the conversation.


    ¡°And secondly, I mentioned it so I could help you. Your spoon is driven by what you think, because what you think, adds to what you feel. What you feel is what makes your spoon.¡±


    He held her rough, wooden evidence in his hand.


    ¡°But ... how?¡±


    She looked more confused than ever.


    ¡°Because you think you can¡¯t do it, you feel sad and angry, which makes your hands frustrated. And so ...  you make the spoon of a frustrated little girl.¡±


    He placed the implement back in her hands.


    ¡°Feel better little one. I know you can do it, so you have to believe it¡¯s true.¡±


    He smiled at her.


    ¡°But I don¡¯t think I can ... Why must I believe it¡¯s true?¡±


    She was pouting uncontrollably now.


    Eris leaned forward and kissed her on the head.


    ¡°Because my little liquid-eyed miracle ... I know how brilliant you truly are.¡±


    Fawn smiled a bit and glanced at him, without turning her head.


    ¡°Also, I¡¯m older than you so you have to do what I say, including believing in yourself ... ¡±


    Laughing, he stood and moved away.


    She turned and threw her failed spoon at him, giggling all the same.


    Ikan collected her spoon and moved in closer to sit across from her on the ground. Placing one leg either side of her, he held a Razor Rock in his right hand.


    ¡°Well ... everything Eris said is true, but ...  you also need to know that ...  you can¡¯t shape the whole spoon with a knife.¡±


    Ikan spoke with a lighter and faster pattern than his older brother, and was practical by nature, all the time. He carried on to show her how to shape her spoon with more subtlety, rasping at it with the edge of the Razor Rock he had used to shape his own. He finished his demonstration and turned to look at her.


    ¡°Why did you think I only used the knife to complete my spoon?¡±


    ¡°Well, it was what mother said ... she gave me the knife and¡ª¡±


    Eris came back over to her, crouched down and looked at his trusting sister.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry little one. Mother is ... well, it¡¯s better that you ask us, ok?¡±


    He dropped his eyes away from her. They fell along with his mood, as he rose again slowly.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Fawn stood up with him, a troubled look in her eyes.


    ¡°Eris is right, you know. You really are our little gilded miracle ... ¡±


    Ikan smiled at her and stroked her soft hair.


    She tucked her head into his arm.


    ¡°But why? What is it that mothe¨C?¡±


    Eris looked down at her with great focus.


    ¡°The only reason we accepted her back after she left was you, my sweet. The beautiful baby with the eyes of shifting liquid.¡±


    He ran his thumb down her face.


    ¡°Our mother is not here because she loves us. She is here because we ...  love you.¡±


    The memory was a nice reminder that Fawn had not always been so alone. Looking down at the rope she was trying to weave, she began to form clearer thoughts in her mind.


    I can make this. I¡¯m clever and brilliant. I must be, because a brilliant person said so.


    The thought made her smile.


    Covering the ground to the Village now felt like less of a chore, and more like time to complete her rope. Her lack of weaving skill would mean she needed all the walking time she had.


    Dusk had settled in thoroughly now and the harsh burn was gone from the sun. There would likely be more people wandering around the pathways outside the Village, as it was a popular time for walking outside. Fawn would need to watch for prying eyes. Who she truly was remained hidden from most, but she knew now that being obviously young, would be reason enough for some to target her.


    Whether everyone hated her for what she had done, or just for what she was, she did not know.


    Having convinced herself that she didn¡¯t want to make a ¡®frustrated little girl¡¯s¡¯ rope, she was making her way through the threaded fiber rather well. She truly felt the benefit of creating something for herself.


    Now certain that she would complete the rope without any trouble, Fawn committed to the task of attaching it to her precious claw. She took thin threads, one at a time, and passed them through the small spaces at the root of the claw in sequence. When eventually she could fit no more through the space, she wove them back into the main rope length.


    Coiling the rope over her shoulder meant that she was able to keep the claw hidden at her side, while having it securely attached to her body.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 27: Strength

    Strength


    The claw was probably the most valuable thing she would ever own so it plagued her that it was something she could lose, or worse, have taken from her. Tying the rope to her waist meant she felt just a little secure.


    Happy that she could keep hold of her claw, she started whirling it around and seeing if she could throw it and retrieve it, while there was no one watching¨C¨Cand most important¨C¨Cno one to steal it from her.


    It took some time to remember that the claw needed no specific surface to gain purchase. It only needed force and could embed itself in solid stone, which was plentiful.


    Fawn threw it at a large stone as she walked past, wanting to test its capacity to latch. It bounced with a clink and came back at her with frightening speed.


    ¡°Wha! ... ¡±


    She fell to the ground out of the path of the razor-sharp item. Collecting herself and coiling the rope up, a new technique occurred to her.


    I need to get it to catch the hook the right way.


    She began to spin the claw, holding the rope short. It made a remarkable shearing sound as it passed through the air, with an increasing ringing accumulating as it spun. The sharp edge was made of a far harder and heavier material than the back. This mass differential kept the edge forward-facing as it spun.


    Hearing the claw shear through the air as it spun gave Fawn a powerful sense of accomplishment and pride for making it work the way she wanted, and the enthusiasm took her for a moment. Before long, it gathered more speed than she had planned.


    ¡°Oh no, slow down, slow down.¡±


    She suddenly thought of the woman whose arm had turned to ribbons at just the simple pressure that she had applied, and the fear led her to let go of the rope and cringe. She watched the claw fly forward and crash into one of the stones, with a heavy clink.


    ¡°Oh Gods!¡±


    Fawn threw herself to the ground, waiting for disaster. There was none.


    She leaped up, walked over to the rock it had struck, and saw that it had cut itself into the rock, making a similar mark to that which her Veil would leave in the cave wall.


    She cheered for a moment, at the sight. Not only had it survived without bouncing but it had caught hard into the rock. She pulled tentatively at the rope, wondering how much weight she could place against it, and found that she could not pull it out. There was no sign of loosening threads or broken fiber, which she was pleased about.


    Happy that she could hook the claw successfully, she was now presented with the challenge of removing it.


    The claw was embedded deeply in the stone due to the accidental force she had swung it with, and it was without any flex in its attachment.


    She heaved and tugged at it with all the strength she could muster, but it stayed fixed, as if it had grown into the rock.


    Frantically, pulling at the claw and rope, she began to panic that it was stuck forever.


    She fell backwards while trying again to pull on it and the jolt brought a recollection of watching the Veil climb.


    She remembered that there was always a part of the cuts in the stone that she couldn¡¯t make sense of: a curved cut at the exit point for each claw hole.


    I never saw him get ... stuck ... He always moved so easily.


    She tugged once more on the claw, and then thought further about it. Finally, with two hands, she pulled at the base of the entrenched claw in a rotation. It carved a piece of rock from beside the incision. It fell out so easily, Fawn tumbled backward.


    ¡°Aha! Twist it!¡±


    The revelation was the most exciting thing she had discovered in ages, and it meant she could use the claw many ways.


    In celebration she allowed herself to spin the rope over her head, getting a little more comfortable with the noise it made cutting through the air.


    She had managed to weave a rope that would hold her entire weight and attached it to the rarest and sharpest thing she had ever come across. It was a spectacular tool, and a weapon of the greatest possible efficacy, if she worked at it.


    Wandering closer to the Village, she was able to relax a bit and retrieve the capacity to think, rather than feel.


    Her arm was still very sore, but it functioned fine and the knowledge that it had coped with such a brutal attack, made the pain less severe somehow. She looked down at the growing evidence of bruises on her forearm and felt angry and grateful at the same time. She stroked her fingers gently over her damaged skin.


    I¡¯m so pleased she couldn¡¯t break it.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    If she had been crippled by the vicious woman, she would be entirely without help to recover. In that moment, she realized that she wouldn¡¯t just have a broken arm: the woman would likely have carried on beating her.


    She lost her walking momentum for a moment considering the possibility, and it took all the air from her lungs. She felt a shadow of misery pass over her. Her mild, pleasant feeling had not lasted as long as she hoped.


    This life was bearing down on her. There was no way she ever could have prepared herself for a situation like this.


    Sitting on a small cushion of dust, as the sun dropped further away, she took a moment to check on her wounded ankle, and as difficult as it was to address an old injury while still coping with a fresh one, she took great comfort in how much it had healed.


    This led her to further thoughts about her life and various hurts. There were no memories that she could muster wherein she was wounded for more than a day or two, no matter the severity.


    The idea that she was not made of delicate Sweet Stars was very reassuring. There was a kind of courage to be had from knowing that she could tolerate the kind of aggression that was constantly aimed at her.


    There was a part of her that wanted to climb something high, jump off and see what injuries she sustained. Thankfully this thought was fleeting.


    She pulled herself up and carried on her way, believing that she was going to manage. Living on her own was lonely, and unpleasant, but she could survive.


    Having an understanding that she was capable of recovering from her hurt also helped with her confidence, and the feeling that she was just a ¡®little girl¡¯ was starting to ebb.


    As she wandered the path, a strong understanding set in. Neither being sad nor feeling like life was unfair, was going to help her survive. Solving her situation was a responsibility set squarely on her shoulders.


    Fawn ... Do more ... Feel less.


    It was a strict clarity that helped her pick up her pace to a run.


    Ok then. How fast can I run?


    She slammed her lead foot into the ground and launched herself into a run, faster and faster. She was able to gain far more speed than she imagined. She picked up more pace and felt the strength of her legs: steady and constant.


    Turning her attention to her pulse she noted that there was very little increase. She remembered her brothers saying that their pulse would race as they moved fast or worked hard.


    There was no ¡®racing pulse¡¯ for her as she ran, her heart was steady, she felt no drain, and breathed easily through her nose only, taking in minimal dust.


    The feeling was calming for her. There seemed to be more gained than lost as she continued to run. After running steadily for a while she could tell there was more she could do.


    Drawing massive breaths she began to increase speed constantly, until she was at a full sprint, a speed she had never reached before, or even thought she could achieve.


    At full sprint she began to breathe heavily, but still felt no drag on her body. Her feet were flicking across the ground, she had to tilt her weight significantly as she followed the curves of the path. She left a dust cloud behind her as she bolted along, leaning so far forward that her hands passed her ears as she ran.


    She galloped on and on, the Village getting rapidly closer as she gained speed until she simply could not place her feet beneath herself any faster. There was still no sign of exhaustion.


    As she exited the valley up toward the Village her foot struck an irregularity in the ground. She fell hard on her shoulder, tumbling sideways and head over heels. She slammed almost every part of her body into the ground or against rocks.


    She tumbled and rolled for what seemed like ages, until she slid to a stop on her hands and knees.


    Fawn had yet to understand how to slow herself from a speed which she had never achieved before.


    Gathering herself up off the ground, Fawn straightened her clothes and shook the dust from her hair. There were marks all over her where she had struck the ground and grit embedded in her skin. She could see the damage to her body, and feel the impact to her bones, but there were no breaks, there were no cuts, there ... were ... no ... weak points in her body that she could find.


    The dust and grime had accumulated against her skin and clothing. There were rips in her careful work, but none in her now-grimy skin.


    ¡°I ... am stronger than I thought.¡±


    She stood and stretched the tension and stiffness out of her body.


    The seed of an idea built in her mind.


    I¡¯m not just a breakable girl.


    The next part of this new concept, inspired curiosity as to how far this apparent variation of her body actually went.


    Am I stronger than other girls?


    There was no one to compare herself with. She may be far more resilient, but she was content to leave it at something that would simply help her survive.


    One way that she was different from some of the children in the Village was that there was no one to look after her anymore.


    There were many children in the Village that were without any family, but most were being watched over by other Clan Members or the Village Minders: a group that had been established some cycles ago to cope with the frequently orphaned children.


    The hazards of the planet itself, along with the danger that the Cast represented, meant that a great many families lost members for numerous reasons.


    Fawn remembered hearing stories of animals that killed and ate people, or simply killed people for crossing their path, poisonous plants and toxic fumes.


    She felt as though the animals in the stories did not reflect what she had seen. She was caught for a moment on whether she had witnessed creatures that were worse ... or better than the ones in stories. She was in no rush to discover any more threats.


    Setting aside the concerns of other children and the world around her, she decided to complete her task at hand: finding food. At least she felt more confidence than she ever had before.


    The walk was different now, her steps more certain, her stride assured. She felt as though her chest were bigger and the air she needed came more easily. Patting more dust from her clothes, she decided she had grown tired of imbibing so much of it. Recalling how the tree fibers had been relatively clear of dust, she made a mask, from loose fibers she still had, to give herself more clean air. After all, if she could run as fast as she had for longer than other people, she would need to breathe cleaner air than they did.


    Dying of Clay Lung was not going to be her fate. The new mask helped immediately and made a huge difference, so much so that she felt like she was inhaling cleanly for the first time.


    With mask on, and her whole body full of the pride of existence, she closed the last paces to the Village, as darkness fell.


    Scaling the wall was easy for her, more so than she hoped, as having just finished creating a new tool she would have gladly tested it on the climb. As she reached the top she desperately wanted to jump down and see if she could cope with the pain and shock of the landing. She resolved to climb down instead and maintain the welfare of her recently reevaluated legs.


    There were a few lights on throughout the Village. People were at home and at their respective tables. She could see through the open window spaces, most were gathered to eat, others were talking, being families.


    It was a moment for her that brought the concept of what families could be, to the forefront of her mind, and it was a slippery mixture of emotional mud. Some memories led to wanting her family back, if only her brothers, for the way they had loved her. Others were of the dark despise that she could easily recall seeing in her mother¡¯s eyes, the woman who blamed her for the demise of them all.


    It was an empty feeling, watching others enjoy themselves. For all the difficulties that the people living here had to cope with, usually they were, for the most part, left alone in their own houses.


    Making her way through the collection of small dwellings, highlighted what she now knew to be a false sense of safety.


    She saw an empty home with no lights, or sound, coming from it and started toward it. Suddenly, her legs lost their sense of foundation, and she collapsed, just off the path.


    The memory of the boy who died at her hand came flooding back with ruthless severity.


    Pulling her clothes tight around her she knelt, still and quiet for a moment. She drew a rudimentary shape in the dust on the ground, trying to remember his face, imagining that it would somehow help her transmit her sorrow for his loss to him, or his family.


    There was of course no relief to be had, but having come so far it would be foolish to give up and sit here long enough to get caught.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 28: Encounter

    Encounter


    Rising to her feet, she blinked the welling moisture from her eyes, and started toward the empty house once again. She walked the circumference of the house carefully, checking with all her sharp senses to be certain that she was, this time entering a truly empty home.


    There was no sign of any living soul¨C¨Cshe heard, saw and smelt nothing. Rounding the house back to its entrance she could clearly see four sets of different footprints in the dirt leading to the path and away from the house. One of the sets of prints was notably bigger and heavier than the others, but also set further apart. This was undoubtedly a very large male.


    This might be an Ohun Clan household.


    If it were indeed a Hunter¡¯s home, she would most likely find plentiful supplies inside, so this would very much work in her favor, but there was a significant risk attached to exploring such a bounty.


    Fawn completed an even more thorough investigation of the area, and having satisfied herself that there were no concealed children, she opened the unlocked door and made her way inside.


    This is a Hunter¡¯s home.


    There were no locks on the doors of the Ohun¡¯s homes: none had ever risked uninvited entry.


    Walking through the home was, in some ways, a surreal experience for her given that these places that the villagers all lived in, had come to represent nothing but sadness and misery to her in recent life.


    The pull to leave and go back to the anonymity of her tunnels and caverns was strong, but the taste of badly burnt food on her palate was stronger, so she resolved to press forward.


    Obsessing over the events of when she last entered a home, she went from room to room, in utter silence, checking every corner to be certain, there was no one there.


    Her diligent reconnaissance paid off, as she found the cloak of a youth, discarded in the corner of one of the smaller rooms. It was relatively well made and suitably sized for her. She gathered the extra garment and proceeded to the eating area and the preparation space.


    There was a cellar of sorts in the building, covered by a rough, wooden door. She opened the door and went down, preparing a rough cloth bag she found inside as she went, so she could take more of what she needed this time.


    There was the familiar smell of dried meat, and an herb of some kind, that she remembered her mother using to create a drink.


    The meat she discovered had variation to it as well. There were some that appeared to be made of a mixture of various kinds of meat and herbs, rather than just being hung and dried flesh.


    She amassed enough to sustain herself for a week or two, hoping that by then she would have a better solution.


    I need to learn to hunt without the Veil.


    A feeling of guilt was creeping over her for stealing from another household that contained children. Pressing the twisting feeling down as hard as possible, she filled her bag, made her way back up the stairs, and took one last look through the home.


    Just as she was readying to leave the house, cloak and bag in hand, she saw something new, hanging above the doorway. It was a thing she recognized as a high-density item, stone or metal, contrasted against the wall behind it, a tool, or ... a weapon.


    The refraction that caught her eye immediately became the thing that held her attention entirely.


    For a moment, she forgot the risk of where she was standing. Curiosity took over, she dropped her spoils and jumped for the implement.


    The blade fell from the mantel and stuck into the dirt floor, point first. It was a semi-metallic sword with strange striations through the blade, composed of different materials.


    The sword was an alloy of metal and crude ceramic formed from the Razor Rocks. It bore a hilt and pommel of wood and bone. There was no hand guard.


    It was wider at the point than the handle, forged in all straight lines with a thin, primary edge and a jagged pattern along the spine.


    It had various corrosions all over it, some following the trail of once-present liquid.


    Fawn looked at it, stuck in the ground, trying to decide whether she should take it with her. Confident that her claw was a better weapon and tool, she stepped around it and reached for the door to leave.


    The door opens: she smells the change in the air.


    He¡¯s here!


    She jumps back away from the doorway as a scuffling noise announces the removal of a Hunter¡¯s sword from its sheath.


    Before her movement is complete, his sword clips her wrist as it trails her into the house.


    It cuts her: a short slice, but deep. She snatches up the sword that is stuck in the ground, but with no idea how to use it, she simply lifts it and hopes.


    A second swing comes from the darkness. This time she has her footing and skips back away from it, holding her stolen blade out vertically, pointing down.


    The strike misses her and parries off the weapon she holds. Within a moment he has made another swing: her instinct moving her again, with ease and speed.


    Third and fourth swings slice the darkness. Pinging off her sword, she can only hold it out to fill the space she once occupied.


    ¡°Please stop! I ... was just hungry.¡±


    The attack stops.


    A heavy voice comes from the shadowed space before her.


    ¡°Child.¡±


    She heard the sound of a sword returning to its sheath.


    ¡°What are you doing in my home?¡±


    The voice was steady and insistent.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°I ... was just so hungry, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stealing is punishable by Drawn Death, or at least the loss of an ear and eye.¡±


    The tone was not angry, just absolute.


    ¡°Why is it worth the risk?¡±


    He moved to the main space and ignited an Oil Brush lamp. Fawn could see as he turned his bare back to her, that there were a series of scars along his spine, like alternating triangular cuts pointing inward.


    She kept herself in the shadow, waiting, sword still shaking in hand, breathing carefully, hoping for mercy.


    ¡°I asked you a question, small thief.¡±


    He walked straight to where she was hidden.


    ¡°Starving ... ¡±


    ¡°I present no threat to you, small human.¡±


    He turned his light to shine it on her face.


    Fawn tilted her head up a bit.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°The Cast are the true threat we all face child, including my family.¡±


    He moved in closer to Fawn, his light striking some of the shadows as he did.


    He was a truly massive man, who bore a thick, dark-gray beard framing his jawline, evidence of age and vitality. He was heavily muscled and wore the braids of the Ohun.


    A series of small, tightly woven cords at the scalp, and long, thick rope-like plaits ran down his back. His dark hair was intermingled with the glint of metal adornments that protruded from his head, making a protective and somewhat decorative circlet designating his rank and position.


    He had markings tattooed over intentionally created scar tissue on both shoulders, and metal edges where the bones of his face were most prominent.


    Fawn recognized the marks from the man who she saw lose an ear, as well as the one who fed the Veil. His movements were purposeful, he had no indecision in his actions.


    ¡°So ... ¡±


    He moved in.


    ¡°You¡¯re stealing from me because you what, have no provider?¡±


    He was close now but had stopped moving any further forward. Crouching in front of her, he held the light to her face.


    Fawn turned her eyes away. The light was too bright for her, and the feeling of someone looking directly at her was disquieting at the least.


    ¡°You will need to look at me, child. I have told you I am no threat to you.¡±


    His voice was more insistent than before.


    Fawn tightened her grip on the sword and turned her head very slowly toward him.


    ¡°I have been attacked a lot by people like you.¡±


    She started to look in his direction. He was still making no movements of aggression.


    ¡°Listen, my kind do not attack your kind, huma¨C¨C¡±


    He drew a sharp breath through his nose as Fawn brought her gaze up to meet with his. He caught her eyes in the light for a moment and turned quickly away.


    ¡° ... not? ... ¡±


    He muttered and moved back for a moment.


    ¡°You need to go now.¡±


    He was looking in her direction, but not at her.


    ¡°Ok ... ¡±


    Fawn, puzzled, began to pull herself back into the shadow.


    ¡°You can¡¯t take that with you.¡±


    He flicked the sword from her hand with his, and grabbed at the bag of stolen food she had so carefully gathered.


    She let the sword fall to the ground, having no real interest in something so heavy to swing anyway.


    He ignored the cloak on the floor and snatched up the food bag. As he did, Fawn¡¯s starvation drove a feral reaction. She captured part of the bag, and threw her body backwards, pulling it towards herself.


    Before he could bring a second hand to bear, she placed both her feet against his throat, pushed off hard against it, and spiraled her body: up and away from him.


    The bag came free from his grip, as she had built a great deal of force and momentum. Turning her body to land on her feet, she clutched at the food.


    ¡°I have to eat something.¡±


    She quickly moved out of reach.


    The Hunter stood up, holding his throat, looking at his empty hand, muttering.


    ¡°Such force for a child ... ¡±


    He refixed his gaze at her feet.


    ¡°Where have you come from?¡±


    Fawn, clutching at her food bag, turned to leave.


    ¡°Wait, child, from where do you come?¡±


    He moved toward her again.


    ¡°If you are truthful with me, you can keep the food.¡±


    She held tighter to her sustenance.


    ¡°How do I know you¡¯re not lying?¡±


    He took another step toward her.


    ¡°I told you huma¡ªchild, the Cast are the threat we all face, even you. Now, where are you from?¡±


    Fawn could feel that he meant no specific harm, at least not yet.


    ¡°People keep hurting me, I don¡¯t want to ... ¡±


    He moved away from her.


    ¡°I think you are not from this Village.¡±


    ¡°I am!¡±


    She blurted out a response before she could stop herself.


    ¡°I said you must tell me the truth.¡±


    He sounded annoyed now.


    ¡°I told you. I am from here.¡±


    ¡°Ok, I believe you ... but you need to go now.¡±


    He sat on a chair in the corner of his home and took his sword from its sheath to clean it.


    Fawn stepped carefully, and surreptitiously retrieved the cloak as she went.


    ¡°I can ...  keep the food?¡±


    Immediately, she regretted her choice to speak.


    ¡°You were honest with me, that was the deal, you may also keep the cloak you¡¯re trying to conceal, my one has no use for it.¡±


    ¡°Ok, thank ... you.¡±


    She cautiously moved towards the door.


    ¡°Child, be careful of us. Hunters are born killers, but the next time you meet an Ohun ... you look him right in the eye ... ¡±


    Standing in front of the door, she looked out into the safety of the True Dark, and waited a moment.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    He stood, watching her carefully.


    ¡° ... How well can you see out there?¡±


    She looked down, then turned her head toward him, surprised at being asked.


    ¡°Very well, but why?¡±


    He walked toward her slowly, his head down. She prepared a movement, the muscles in her legs coiling and her whole core tight. He continued to come closer, his hand reaching out and head down. She still felt no threat from him, and it made no sense. She was looking at a killer, a man made to hunt, punish and slaughter. Yet, he posed no threat to her.


    ¡°We do what we are made to do, child, that is all. But you are not one of the Hunters.¡±


    He quietly placed his hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°You are a ... well, you¡¯re only a little one.¡±


    He lifted his head, looking out into the darkness. He saw living things, due to their warmth, color and pattern of movement distinguished by size and speed.


    Watching them move, like a reptile watching prey, he took a small stone from the pocket of his pants and threw it against the neighboring house. He noted as Fawn reacted to the impact, and then to unseen images. Nodding slowly, he turned back to go inside.


    ¡°Be merciful, little one, merciful.¡±


    Fawn, utterly lost as to what had just happened, secured her bag, fastened her cloak and walked away from the house, aimlessly. There was a time for questioning what happened in detail, maybe even sitting still to think, but now was not that time.


    Now was the time to move while safe, eat from her bag, and drink from her waterskin.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 29: Feeding Ground

    Feeding Ground


    Passing through the Village, Fawn couldn¡¯t help re-playing what the Hunter had said.


    He said be merciful. What could he mean?


    The idea of someone as strong as one of the Hunters asking her to be merciful would make her laugh, if she wasn¡¯t so confused, and still so weary of the danger they posed. She had seen these people attack and kill others. She had thought she was going to be dragged back to the Cast by one, but this was entirely new.


    Why did he let me go?


    She was divided now between looking for more that she could take, and just taking what she had. It had been a very fortunate night, and the feeling that if she stayed it would eventually turn against her was significant.


    She turned her attention to the smells in the air: there was food, blood, timber and dust. She could smell the people cooking their evening meals, she could tell some were injured, she knew some of the women were at the bleeding end of their cycle. She could smell the anger from the men who gathered together; the fear from the people that knew the Cast were coming.


    There was more sound in the air than she liked to be close to, so she began to move again.


    The sweet note that she was still searching for amongst the odors was that of her oh-so-loved Sweet Stars. She drifted through the empty spaces between homes and paths until she found the scent she knew so well.


    There was a small home close to the outer edges of the Village wall that had the distinctive sweet and smoky smell she knew so well. She made her way toward it, keeping to the empty spaces and away from the commonly traveled areas.


    This time there were people in the home. There was a woman and her young daughter sitting at their table, eating the paste that once constituted most of her diet. They seemed quiet and subdued, the common standard for villagers in their position.


    With no sign of any men in the house, it was likely that they had been taken by the Cast for one infraction or another, or were committed to long-range work detail.


    Whatever the reason, it had left the two looking forlorn, and at risk of the whim of passers-by. They must have been aware of their precarious situation because Fawn could see, as she got close, that they were very uneasy, eating small bites and constantly looking around.


    As she watched through the window, she felt a sense of sorrow. It was like she was watching another version of herself, eating with a mother that had made her food. It was nice to watch some people just eating, and behaving in a way that she once could have.


    Her desire to steal their Sweet Stars was ebbing as she felt the mounting pang of guilt at the thought of taking the only treat this child had.


    She wandered around the outside of the house, and perched where she could see, without being seen, to observe for a little longer. She couldn¡¯t help feeling a sense of loss for the life she might have had.


    After a time, feeling lonely and missing her home, she looked up and let her mind drift into following the pattern in the wood that comprised the dwelling.


    I suppose I have gained as well as lost.


    After watching the two eat and share the small amount of the Sweet Stars she could smell, she saw the mother wrap her child in a blanket and hold her closely.


    A wave of sadness came over Fawn, and she wanted more than anything to do something to help the child that reminded her so much of herself.


    Her life will be so hard. There is nothing she can do to change it. At least I have some say over my strange life.


    There was nothing she could do to help the other child at this point, and of course, if she were to be recognized by the mother, she would doubtless put herself at enormous risk.


    Now utterly unwilling to take anything from an unhappy child just to serve herself, she resolved to journey back out of the Village and into the endless dust.


    First of all, she would find a place to rest for a while and feed herself. This had been another long and trying day. There were few places that provided shelter or concealment around the paths, and she was more cautious than ever of people traveling.


    She had not seen any Cast for some time now, and as welcome as that was, it was also uncomfortable as it meant truly not knowing their movements. Her resolve strengthened by the unwelcome mystery, and she turned attention to making a clear choice about where she would be best to go next.


    She knew from her lessons that the Village had been placed the way it was to reduce the effect of the world¡¯s savage star. She recalled one of the tutors saying that it was something to do with the Sun traveling East and West or something. With that in mind, it meant she could consider the Village gate to be a North point, which made the mountains a Southern point.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    She now had some idea what was South of the mountain range, but no idea what lay East or West of the Village.


    The woman called Sheya had, in that case, come from what Fawn would now refer to as West. That meant that there was at least a meaningful amount of Oil Brush that way, if not other things, that might be of use.


    She knew there was no sign of the enormous trees she had seen South of the mountains, but some form of timber made the houses.


    Clear in her decision to travel toward the West for a while, she climbed the Village wall and started on her way, looking for a resting place.


    As she traveled away from the Village, she found a cluster of boulders not too far from the path, big enough to hide her from passing eyes. She wrapped herself in the cloak she had taken from the Hunter¡¯s home and sat behind the boulders to eat, drink and rest.


    The food she had been given was significantly better than that which she had managed to burn and scrape off of flat stone in a fire. This food tasted as if it had been made from more than one ingredient, and cooked on a clean surface. There was a great relief as she ate something she enjoyed and drank from a cool, clean water container.


    Curling herself against the boulders, she wrapped her cloak tight about her, pulled the hood over her head and lay still hoping for sleep.


    She awoke with a snap.


    How long have I slept?


    She looked around frantically, but it was still dark.


    Morning ... ? No, ok, ok.


    Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and gathered her things. It had not been long but the rest had made a real difference. She felt the strength returning to her legs and a calm to her stomach that she had not felt for some time.


    Keeping her cloak tied on, and tightening her mask, she started walking with conviction out and away, in a direction she knew nothing about.


    After a time, there was evidence of a path of sorts, tramped into the ground. Evidently there had been plenty of people along this way before. She took little comfort from the idea, however.


    The tramped path was deep and relatively narrow: there must have been a lot of solo walkers coming through here.


    Fawn remembered her brothers talking about people being escorted by the Hunters out into the empty spaces to retrieve things, so this made some sense. The idea that she was walking this narrow, well-trodden path on her own shook her nerves.


    Eventually, like the accumulation of dust in her clothes and on her mask, came the reminder of where she was.


    First, she caught the smell: an odor on the breeze she didn¡¯t know yet. It smelled sour and grim, like something old and wet.


    As she got closer to the source of the smell, it became so pronounced that she stopped and covered her mask with her hand.


    A dead villager lay at the side of the path. Fawn caught herself trying not to gasp. The smell was awful, far stronger for her than for most. For a moment her intense sensitivity was almost unwanted.


    She moved carefully up to the side of the body¨C¨Ca girl with a carry pack. She had most likely been sent to gather more Oil Brush, or whatever else there was at the end of this path.


    As she drew closer, she saw the girl was missing her head. The shock took Fawn a moment to process. It was the first time she had seen real decomposition before. The wound was ragged, visceral and torn by something. There were fragments of bone and pieces of flesh strewn across the ground above her shoulders. Fawn crouched next to the girl and unbound the straps of her pack, empty though it was.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I need this and I don¡¯t think you do anymore.¡±


    As she lifted the pack, a swarm of black insects scattered from underneath the girl¡¯s clothing, having eaten away at her back.


    Fawn jumped backward, swiftly moving her feet from the dissipating crawlers. She shook the pack as a precaution.


    The smell and carrion creatures around the body meant motivation for her. She hooked the pack over her shoulder and ran along the path. As she was running, she began to think about the body that she had just seen, the wound, her missing head.


    Where were the Hunters to protect her? If there were no Hunters with her, then what was she doing out here? Or worse, if there were Hunters with her ... where were they?


    There was no sign of anyone else, so she kept running along the path with her eyes open, and ears up.


    Dawn was climbing its way back into the day, and with the sun came more heat, and less cover from enemy eyes. She slowed her run as she crossed an unfamiliar texture with her feet.


    The ground here was different: softer, less dusty, with a gathering of small, light-green plant life over some of it. It felt very unusual to her. She stopped and picked up the dirt in her hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s so soft ... I didn¡¯t know dirt could be like this.¡±


    There was almost a moist quality to it. She stopped and looked around¨C¨Cthis was the area the dead girl was coming toward.


    There must be more here than I can see.


    She carried on along what was left of the path, it was less distinct, but still discernible. As she got further and further West, she came across increasingly soft dirt, and the light-green lichen.


    Eventually, she saw the reason people came this way: a dense, far-reaching field of Oil Brush and beyond that, something taller.


    ¡°Aha ... I found something useful.¡±


    She felt a sense of self-reliance that she hadn¡¯t before. Reaching into her makeshift bag she retrieved some food, ate it and transferred the rest into her new pack. A quiet moment took over.


    I ... still need to learn to feed myself properly.


    She felt as though she had been rescued from starvation by chance and the intervention of others too often.


    Eris used to always say ¡®Luck is not a solution¡¯ ... I need a solution.


    She examined her food, and decided it was enough to see her through a little while if she was careful and rationed it. She unwound her roped claw and began spinning it above her head.


    ¡°I must figure out how to use this to hunt.¡±


    She spoke to herself with real determination in her voice, to be the instructor she didn¡¯t have.


    Moving her body around the rope and then the rope around her body, she started to understand how it might work. There was a certain predictability to the weight of the claw as it circled. She began to understand how to remove herself from its trajectory, and then plan a new one.


    Walking and jumping through the plants, she loved the freedom to move unhindered, and delighted in the feeling of the brush against her legs and feet.


    Running through the field, she enjoyed herself the way she once did playing with the other children, although it felt like a lifetime ago.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 30: Not Food

    Not Food


    She practiced coiling the rope over her shoulder and keeping the claw within easy reach. She kept the claw wrapped in its fiber sheets for her own safety, and committed persistently to the practice. Her movements became smoother and she could sometimes land the clawed end in the location she wanted, but it would be a long time before she could command it like a limb.


    The time to practice was a welcome change from running and hiding, and for the first time ever, she began to feel like she could defend herself. Running back and forth through the brush was scratching at her legs, but it felt like a freedom she¡¯d never had. As the star reached its pinnacle, the heat became uncomfortable. The time had come to make for shade.


    Picking a good bundle of Oil Brush from the field, she made for the tall plants further away. They looked like trees, but she¡¯d never heard of trees being anywhere here, they were only from history. As the big plants came into focus, it was obvious they had grown here for a long time.


    Why didn¡¯t the Village get built closer to these things?


    She arrived at a plentiful source of shade. Their shape was that of a larger version of the bushes she had been playing in. The trees were dense and dark, much shorter than the ones she had seen beyond the mountains but still a lot bigger than she thought was possible.


    ¡°I really don¡¯t know anything about my home.¡±


    Drifting through the plants she once thought were a myth, Fawn was consumed by how uneducated or possibly misinformed she actually was.


    She felt the cool of their shade and enjoyed the texture of the dirt beneath her feet. The trees had a fractured bark, black with reddish sap accumulated in the cracks. There was no sign of a root system on the surface, and the soil pointed downward around the trunk of each tree, as though they had been pushed into the ground from the top and left to fend for themselves.


    The foliage was an array of black capsules arranged in a fan shape from the very top of each plant. The reddish sap looked very similar to that of the Oil Brush, only darker and far more prolific. Fawn found herself wondering whether the bark would have the same flammable properties as the brush did.


    Looking up at these magnificent plants, she couldn¡¯t help but think about all the other possibilities this world might hold.


    She sat against one of the trees, looking up into the branches as she tipped her head back to drink from her waterskin. There was no movement in the fronds that carried the capsules, they seemed to gather the dust as it blew past. After a time sitting quietly in the shade, she relaxed and took a deep breath. She sniffed the air, there was something new on it. The smell was that of dirt and stone ... but also ...


    IT¡¯S AN ANIMAL.


    She jumped up from her seat and looked out in every direction. There was nothing to see yet, but she was sure something was coming. She began to look frantically for somewhere to hide, as a new sound broke the silence.


    ¡°Whup ... whup ... whup.¡±


    Fawn spun toward the sound, clutching at her rope.


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    She could smell the scent clearly, and hear that there was more than one, but still there was nothing to see.


    ¡°Whup ... whup ... whup ... whup ... whup ... ¡±


    How many are there? I can¡¯t just stand here.


    She chose a direction and started moving. The sound came again louder than before, something was surrounding her, and getting closer quickly.


    ¡°I can¡¯t just stand here ... Come on Fawn. Move, MOVE!¡±


    She launched herself toward the direction with the least sound and began to run. The noise followed her for a few paces and within a moment was in front of her.


    As if from nowhere, a creature comes dashing in Fawn¡¯s direction.


    She slips sideways and avoids its first strike, looking at it carefully to learn what she can as it goes by.


    The creature is bipedal, lithe in build and reptilian in nature. Only a little taller than she is, it has white skin, bright-orange eyes, and a thick, wide muzzle packed with varying length teeth visible outside its mouth.


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    Very simplistic claws cap its upper limbs: one at the end of each short arm, long and tapering from where a wrist should have been, coated with dried blood. A dedicated predator, with no secondary purpose.


    One like this must have killed that girl on the road.


    It turns by digging its foot into the ground, leaning heavily to one side, then runs back toward her, at great pace.


    Panicking, Fawn leaps in the air¨C¨Cdriven by nothing more than the instinct that once had her try to leap from the Veil¡¯s grasp.


    The jump means she clears the creature easily, but lands heavily.


    She unwraps the claw weapon from her side and holds onto it with both hands: there is no time to flail it or plan anything specific.


    The creature turns near instantly this time and leaps toward her, leading with the strange talons that make up its forearms.


    It jumps at her shoulders.


    She slips sideways again and this time the creature loses its footing trying to turn in the moment.


    With both hands clasped tight to her claw she swipes it at the creature, but with her eyes shut and teeth clenched she makes no contact.


    She turns and jumps away from the creature, forcing it to make another fast turn. Its legs can¡¯t fold as quickly as they need to and it falls.


    As the creature scrambles to its feet to make another attack, Fawn can see others gathering around, watching the fight.


    With some space to move she folds her legs beneath her.


    I have to WIN this, or they will EAT me.


    With renewed focus she lunges at the creature, this time leaving it no chance to recover. She glances off the side of the creature¡¯s head as it tries to bite at her.


    Its foremost four teeth are finely serrated, protruding from the top and bottom jaws far more than the rest.


    The bite attempt misses her as she passes it, arms extended in front of her, holding her solitary weapon.


    She lands on the other side of the creature, curling and rolling herself on the ground. It turns its head to snap once more, slashing in her direction with its strange talons.


    As it comes in yet again, Fawn feels her temperament change. With no recovery time, she spins her hips and aligns her feet to leap.


    Recalling what she saw the Veil do, she turns her claw in her hands, holding it at an angle, and launches herself again.


    The claw catches the face of the creature as she whips past, slicing its face to the bone, and then cutting the bone as well.


    The force she creates is significant, propelling her whole body¡¯s mass with all of her strength: coiled and then released.


    The creature¡¯s face falls in half, as the claw cleaves its top jaw from bottom, to the sound of its horrendous screams. It stumbles backward, flailing its talons in a hopeless attempt to recover, as the lower piece of its face begins peeling away.


    The screaming gets louder as the creature falls heavily, pouring a white liquid out all over the dark-colored ground.


    Immediately, the rest of the pack around her begins their noise again, more frantic than before.


    ¡°Whup! ... whup! ... whup!¡±


    Fawn finishes her coil, digs her feet into the ground like a primed weapon, and waits. Her eyes shift, silver, gold and black washing across them, like living crystal waiting for its next instruction. She can see the creatures¡¯ shapes in the brush, and watches, poised.


    There is a mounting tension in the air: the animals around her have gone quiet.


    Then like a biological explosion, two more of the creatures jump from concealment and run at her. They come with all speed¨C¨Cone leaps toward her with its talons held out in front of it.


    Reacting again from nothing but a reflex to survive, she rolls from the path of the thing and watches it strike its head against the tree behind her.


    The second creature barrels in on her, bearing its oversized fangs, mouth open, aiming directly for her head.


    This time she feels the sequence available to her, and she begins to understand more accurately the speed she can move with.


    Drawing her breath, she simply steps out of its way. For the first time she feels her superiority to another animal. It is not as fast as she is, and now ...  she knows it.


    The first creature recovers itself and turns on her, and much as she had before, she steps back, immediately out of range. As the two close in, she grips her claw in both hands and again holds it in front of her, less afraid now, more prepared.


    ¡°What now?!¡±


    One of them snaps at her face as she dips backward, leaving her claw in the empty space. The claw lands in the bottom jaw of the creature, piercing through and splitting its tongue.


    Faster than the animal can gather itself, she jerks backward and pulls the claw through the front of its jaw, spilling its blood and teeth all over the ground.


    The second one begins to snap its head left and right, clacking its jaws and stepping away. The pack noise drops as the circle of sound diminishes. She hears the breaking of foliage under many feet.


    This prey was not worth further losses.


    ¡°I won a fight!¡±


    Fawn was caught up in her celebration for a moment, and she felt so different for it.


    I didn¡¯t do it by accident ... No one saved me.


    The feeling warmed her from her feet up, so much so, she almost forgot about the mess of blood, bone and teeth at her feet.


    The pack had drifted away with the noise following them, the wounded one trying to follow, falling and howling in pain.


    Fawn uncoiled her rope and began spinning the claw about her head.


    ¡°Stay away from me! I¡¯m not food!¡±


    She walked over to where the first creature had fallen. The smell was pungent and far too all-encompassing for her to stay close to it for any length of time. It was rancid and astringent. The fumes scorched her nose, and a headache drowned her thoughts simply by standing nearby.


    She walked away quickly, pulling her fiber mask up tight over her nose. She was feeling great confidence having stood her ground against such a ferocious foe and come away unscathed. An empty feeling followed, as she looked around excited to share her accomplishments with ... no one.


    Wandering through the trees, she began spinning her rope weapon and flicking it toward the trees, practicing her aim and working out how to release it when it caught.


    There was a collection of small plants among some of the trees, as she passed through them their smell was familiar. Reaching down to gather some of them, she found they had small, light foliage and white, jacketed oval-shaped berries. She knelt down and picked a few of them.


    The scent they gave off was similar to the mash she had spent her young life eating. The pods were remarkably smooth, honed from dust storms and time. Picking as many as she could, she piled them into her pack.


    She was experiencing the confidence of a woman capable of survival, rather than the girl struggling to exist. The feeling helped her plan and move with purpose.


    She rested back in the shade of the trees and took some time to form some basic shoes. Without any formula to follow, she simply wrapped her feet with strips of cloth cut from the bottom of her cloak.


    She began to believe that her path forward was far more plausible. She had some basic food, some shoes, a weapon and a degree of faith in her ability to use it.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C

 Chapter 31: Obsession

    31.Obsession


    Resting inside his now-empty home, the Master Hunter retired to his chair, and set about cleaning the blood and corrosion from his sword. A simple system of leather straps sprinkled with a specific gray dust made the process something quite cathartic for the experienced bladesman.


    He had never imagined that if he lived two thousand cycles he would ever see what he had just seen, and it was consuming him.


    ¡°How can it be? ... But I saw her myself. I thought they were only myth.¡±


    He looked around the simple, wooden structure of his dusty home and felt alone. There was more in this world than he had ever thought possible now, and he only knew of what he saw because his grandfather had told him of the ones with liquid eyes. The knowledge was like an acid in his mind, burning out everything else. He sat, cleaning and obsessing for some time.


    A knock woke him from a shallow sleep the following morning.


    ¡°What could they want now?¡±


    He rose from his chair and sheathed his sword, walking slowly to the door as another sharper knock bounced off of it.


    ¡°Master Hunter LeYorn!¡±


    A voice rang through, following the knock.


    ¡°Open this¡ª¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    LeYorn threw open the door to see two Cast Soldiers leering at him.


    ¡°You have been ordered to relinquish your food for this moon cycle due to your¡ª¡±


    ¡°Because I trained Theor, I know this.¡±


    He motioned to the empty house behind him.


    ¡°My woman and children have been taken to live with another Hunter, because thanks to that idiot, Theor, I have nothing for them. You need trouble me no further.¡±


    Stepping back, he swung the door to close it.


    ¡°You do not choose when our conversation is over, Hunter.¡±


    The Soldier stepped forward and forced his weapon through the door paneling, nailing it to the floorboards.


    ¡°What? I have done nothing that I can be punished for, you need not be here.¡±


    ¡°Careful ... Hunter.¡±


    The Soldier¡¯s eyes now rimmed with orange, focused entirely on LeYorn.


    ¡°You ... are no danger to me.¡±


    LeYorn stood where he was, displaying no evidence of fear.


    ¡°I am no mere Dust Cloth, Cast ...  now what more do you want from me?¡±


    The Soldier calmed himself and removed his sword from the door.


    Guaranteed as his victory would be, he was less certain of remaining entirely unscathed. Stepping back, he and the other Soldier made their way off, but not before muttering about sending an Officer to interrogate him further.


    With no interest in staying around to risk a Cast Officer, LeYorn closed the door and turned back to his dark home.


    Having his woman and children taken to the house of another better-provisioned Hunter was a great misery for him. Knowing that he may not be able to have them home again, left him with a destructive emptiness.


    He felt his curiosity regarding the child he had just encountered take over from his remaining will to stay. It even replaced his hope that he could retrieve his family.


    Giving in to his new direction, he collected what he could in portable food, a quantity recently diminished by his generosity, and clothed himself for a lengthy journey. He didn¡¯t know where the child had gone, but with her distinctive scent in his nose, he would find her easily enough.


    The house felt empty with no one coming back to it, and it was hard to leave behind as he looked back at the closed door. A home with no signs of life or light.


    He started walking, following what he found of the signs that she left: little footprints, a subtle scent, a scattering of gravel fragments where she had sat to eat and got up quickly. As he traveled the fascination repeated.


    Where did she come from? How is she even ... ?


    As he walked through the dust cloud cluttered environment, he couldn¡¯t help but be both excited and shaken at the presentation of something that he had always thought was legend, if not utter mythology. It was a rare feeling for LeYorn to have any real presence of fear or trepidation.


    After generations of the Ohun Clans choosing their breeding so carefully, being afraid was limited to the most extreme of situations. Knowing so well his personal strength and capability, LeYorn kept thinking that he could mitigate the concern, ease the feeling, but it was just not possible.


    He recalled stories of the liquid-eyed people from his childhood, and what he had always believed about the possibility of their existence. Not once had he imagined ever meeting one, let alone in the visage of a small girl. He, along with all the other Ohuns growing up, had assumed that these rare people were only ever adults.


    I suppose all children think that way about the myths they hear.


    Echoes of his own youth came and went as he passed by yet another set of little footprints. The idea that he was going to have to change his lifelong belief was very disconcerting. He began to wonder if other myths from his youth were based in reality.


    The event had sent him into a spiral of uncertainty regarding his whole childhood education.


    As he thought himself deeper and deeper into puzzlement, his contemplation was sharply broken by a smell he did not enjoy, and a sound even less welcome.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Master!¡±


    The voice was like a sharp cut across his ears.


    ¡°I have good news, you need to hear this ... ¡±


    Theor was striding toward him at a determined pace.


    Oh ... this great imbecile.


    The younger man drew closer, and there was no time to leave his sightline.


    ¡°What is it? I have little time for you.¡±


    He turned to face the overeager Theor as he came to a stop, having to look up to his taller Master.


    ¡°I found out that they¡¯re sending a Stalker after the stolen girl who got away from the Cast.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not good news, you idiot. When are they sending her?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but they¡¯ve begun talking about it. Why is it not good?¡±


    ¡°Because it means the Cast are looking foolish, and they will absolutely take that out on the Dust Cloth.¡±


    His frustration with the short-sighted Theor brought an expression of disgust to his face.


    ¡°Well, why does it matter to us what happens to the Dust Cloth? They just eat our food anyway.¡±


    LeYorn begun to slow his speech drastically.


    ¡°Because ... where do you think ...  they will turn their attention ...  when they decide it was the fault of the Ohun ...  for not finding her after the death of the Boy Child?¡±


    Theor stood silent for a moment, with an empty expression.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t our fault that she¡ª¡±


    ¡°And how often has fault truly been the motivation behind a Cast Soldier dismembering one of us, in front of our family?!¡±


    Theor stood back from his Master.


    ¡°I ... I thought it would mean they find her and things calm again.¡±


    LeYorn began to growl in a low and steady tone.


    ¡°You and your thoughts are the reason I am without my family. I have hoped that you would learn by now that thinking is not your strength, with only one ear to show for your recent efforts. What is it you imagine will happen if the Stalker comes back empty handed?¡±


    ¡°But, that doesn¡¯t happen.¡±


    Theor protested the idea that he was wrong, yet again.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s never happened that a CHILD has escaped the Cast before either. Are you willing to bet your other ear on the skills of a Stalker? What if you are gambling the life of one of your beautiful girl children?¡±


    Theor dug his feet into the ground and quickly grasped a dagger-like weapon on his hip.


    ¡°No one is taking the life of a child of mine.¡±


    He looked at his Master as though he were the one who would murder the girl.


    ¡°Ease, Theor. I¡¯m not hurting your children.¡±


    Raising a hand to quiet his former student, LeYorn moved forward, eyes flicking to the dagger in Theor¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Wait, show me that dagger.¡±


    His tone changed from consoling to authoritative in an instant.


    ¡°It¡¯s one of mine.¡±


    The younger man became defensive and irreverent.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to claim it! Just let me see it.¡±


    LeYorn¡¯s patience ran thin as he glared at him.


    As Theor loosened his grip on the dagger, LeYorn could see the details: black, glass-like, ... curved¡­


    LeYorn¡¯s voice snapped in reaction, loaded with anger and frustration.


    ¡°You have a Veil claw dagger?!¡±


    ¡°I won it in battle, it is mine to claim.¡±


    ¡°You?! You won a battle with an adult Veil? When? What help did you have?¡±


    LeYorn¡¯s frustration and incredulity intensified as Theor had never demonstrated the kind of ferocity, patience and extraordinary skill it would take to survive a fight with a Veil. The moment of realization came almost as quickly as his annoyed expression.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t kill an adult, did you?!¡±


    Theor broke eye contact and held harder to the dagger grip.


    ¡°Are you holding a dagger made from a Gods-forsaken VEIL CUB?!¡±


    LeYorn stepped forward and took up the now-shaken man as though he weighed not more than a child. Holding him by his temples with both hands, the great warrior interlocked his fingers around the back of Theor¡¯s skull, and lifted him from his feet and began to shake him.


    ¡°Wait!¡±


    Theor, hanging by his skull, was aware of how capable the Master Hunter was of truly taking him apart if he wished.


    ¡°I only took its claw. I wasn¡¯t the one who killed it.¡±


    He knew his moment for convincing the extraordinarily powerful LeYorn of his innocence was passing rapidly.


    ¡°Then who killed it?¡±


    The tone of his voice was growing more and more similar to that of a thundering monster.


    ¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t know. I found the body outside, near the mountains, and I cut the claw from it.¡±


    LeYorn dropped him from grasp.


    ¡°You Slop Brain!¡±


    He snatched the dagger from Theor¡¯s hand.


    ¡°These are only ever collected from adult males for a reason. Why would you not know that? If we take the life of a female or worst of all, a cub, the males will hunt all involved for the ... rest ... of ...  their lives! Veils live far longer than you or I!¡±


    He was looking the younger man directly in the eye now, his fury somewhat replaced with a desire to mentor once again.


    ¡°By taking this, you may have cursed yourself, and your family. You may well be the target of the male who sired this cub, forever.¡±


    Theor¡¯s face lost all color.


    ¡°But ... but, they never come into the Villages. That¡¯s been true since the first ones were found.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, they don¡¯t. Veils are supremely intelligent, and they take no unnecessary risks. That¡¯s why we aren¡¯t all dead and eaten. But you tell me if you would risk your life to avenge the death of your little Denaya, especially if you found her dead and MISSING FINGERS! Would you not do anything to find the man who took them? Look at what you did to that idiot Jund ... just for talking about them the wrong way.¡±


    The full scale of his mistake began to dawn on Theor, and his breath left him as he sat hard on the ground.


    ¡°I have drawn a Veil here, and to my family?¡±


    He looked up at his Master with terror and woe in his eyes.


    ¡°Let us just hope that its sire never figures out who you are, and that¡¯s the thing you must remember. It is a thinking creature: not simply an angry predator. He may never stop hunting you. But tell me where you got the claw and I¡¯ll try to return it. There is a chance it will stop once it has nothing to find.¡±


    He took the dagger from Theor and concealed it in his robe.


    Theor looked back at the man who was willing to take such an extraordinary risk to protect his family.


    ¡°But, it may kill you just for having it.¡±


    ¡°That is true, but it may not. And I will need you to watch over my family should I not return. Do you understand?¡±


    LeYorn turned to leave.


    ¡°I do Master. I found it on a freshly slaughtered cub cycles ago, by the foothills close to the path up to the mountain tunnels. Someone had dropped it there and already taken a finger ... I am sorry for my foolishness, please do not disown me.¡±


    LeYorn turned back to see Theor, standing, his hand to the middle of his chest, his head bowed low.


    ¡°Listen boy, if I were to disown you for foolishness, it would have been long ago.¡±


    An almost wry smile cuts the grime and scars on LeYorn¡¯s face.


    ¡°Live boy, learn from your errors. Guard the villagers; love your family. Be the man I know you can be. A good man is made more of love and willingness to evolve, than he is of strength and weaponry.¡±


    Theor gathered himself and made his way back toward his home, his head low and steps slow, with none of the confidence he normally would walk with. In such a short time his girl children had been threatened, he was forced to kill a villager that was no match for him. He had lost an ear, and the food supply to not only his family, but that of his most-respected master. The feeling that he needed to be a better man was starting to become all-consuming. His thoughts drifted to his two beautiful girls, their delicate features and kind hearts.


    Picking up speed he made his way home, suddenly feeling the awful emptiness of having put them in harm¡¯s way, just to gain a trophy that he had not earned.


    ¨CGarrick M Lynch¨C