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CHAPTER SEVEN

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They stayed out of sight as the enraged beast above stomped about. Venka's heartbeat was in her ears, her gut in her throat, as she remained perfectly still and just breathed. Across from her, in the shadows, Davee flexed his hand experimentally and stopped with a pained shudder. She implored him with her eyes to remain perfectly quiet as the ranathawi sniffed the air, their eyes locked together as they waited and breathed.

After a tense moment, the ranathawi departed, pride wounded but territory defended. Venka had to know. She put one leg across the span next to Davee's head, held herself with her shoulder to the rock, and used the opposite leg to find a higher spot for purchase before pushing up.

With her head flat, she peered over the top of her snout, level with the ground above, and saw the giant sauntering away. Carefully, she lowered herself.

Venka glanced at Davee, his face unusually pale. Bringing her lips to his ear, she barely whispered, "We must move, can you?"

He nodded with a wince.

They had a path away that the ranathawi could not follow straight ahead. The crevice widened and narrowed, but it definitely led somewhere. Silently, she led the way, her senses alert, tongue flicking to taste the chalky, moist air. Each step took them lower until the crevice became a narrow cave. She stopped to let her eyes adjust to the darkness.

Reaching back, Venka pulled him close to her and kept her hand against his neck and shoulder. He reached up and gripped her fingers with his good hand.

Reassuring him could wait. She walked them through the dark and avoided the shadows where even her eyes could not see, so dark and so deep that anything could lurk there. A creature she had never smelled before lurked in one such alcove, lingering high above; she saw light glitter off its moist back. Apprehension and unease roiled into wrath that snaked up her nerves and burst forth with an erect display across her entire mane—her lips bared a further warning.

When it moved toward her, a low growl rumbled in her chest, her hand across his neck possessive, pulling him close to her. Davee was limp against her side as she inched them along, always facing the shadowy threat, until it slithered away in a flash of black scales, sharp spines, and legs too numerous to count.

With her anger subsiding, she huffed proudly and settled her feathers before moving on.

Through the cave, they emerged into an opening that widened until a steep cliff dropped away before them. Dropping down was not an option; she chose a spot to climb down to the steep hillside below, much of it covered in loose debris.

These rocks looked much like the ones she had seen several days ago when scouting ahead for the tribe. Being from the swamps, Venka remembered the harsh lesson about rocks and hills that had been taught to the entire tribe. Climbing them was not only foolish and a waste of effort, but it would quickly become deadly.

"Stay close to me," she instructed, shifting the foreign pack further up her shoulders and looping her satchel's strap over the knot so it fit snug against her. Testing the rocks, she dug her claws into the nearest one, smirking at the firm purchase.

They had only a foot's width to walk, and her bulk required pressing herself to the rock, stepping sideways. She huffed in annoyance as the rocks irritated her breasts, but there was no time to adjust. Bruises could be dealt with later. She focused on holding on, occasionally glancing at Davee's one-handed shuffle, his other hand tucked inside his clothes for protection.

From above, a rock came loose and whistled down until it rattled off the cliff above her and showered her with debris. Shaking her feathers clean, Venka scowled and gave a look to the male. He had to be aware of the dangers above.

Proceeding forward again, she glanced over her shoulder and noticed the steep incline actually ended in another cliff. Spires of rock adorned with trails of green and clusters of stubborn vegetation on top were visible in the distance, the canopy of what looked to be a swamp below.

A clatter of rocks followed by a horrified wail caught her attention.

Venka caught sight of Davee just as the rocks below him gave out. He fell straight down where he stood with his arms stretched out as he helplessly slid backward.

"Davee!" she shouted.

He was flailing his one good arm to grab something, anything, his other now out and pressed against the hillside in a vain attempt to slow his descent. Further below, the cliff gave out some hundred paces away, and he was beginning to pick up speed as the entire side of the hill began to shift.

Venka knew she had to act. Gritting her teeth, she inhaled sharply and sprang off after him. Unfortunately, her heavy pack threw off her balance, and Venka landed with an undignified thud against the hill and bounced, her tail thrashing as her feet scrambled for purchase.

More debris started to move.

Fortunately, she was approaching him faster than he slid towards the edge. Her mind flicked through dead-end ideas and panicked solutions until his feet left solid ground. Lunging out, she grasped him by the pack and pulled.

A fistful of fabric came back as he continued to fall away. Venka lunged again for him and grabbed him by the arm just as her own body went over the edge, claws scraping until...

A rock. With all her might, she gripped it and screamed as the weight of the male, herself, and the pack were pitted against the vicious grip of a lifelong hunter. Items tumbled out of Davee's pack and clattered on the trees barely visible in the mist below, joined by rocks and gravel as the hill began to give way. She needed to be far, far away when that happened.

Pulling him up, she used a burst of strength to shove him against her belly and chest. Davee gripped her like a baby.

"Hold on to me, do not—" Venka screamed as a rock struck her hand and bounced over them.

Pulling her legs up and crossing her ankles, she provided the injured male a place to sit. One hand, then the other, found the chalky rock surface and clawed into it as she slowly climbed over to her right. Boulders were coming down where they had been, giant chunks hidden in the mess of small stones and flakes coming out to tear off the side of the cliff where she had just placed her hands. More rocks began to come down, flowing over them as she dangled from the ledge.

Finally, she spotted refuge. Large rocks tumbled across the way in front of her, but she remained firmly focused on her goal. Sand and small pebbles flowed over them both in little waves, her feathers caked with dust. Venka kept crawling even as boulders the size of her torso slammed into the cliff next to her vulnerable fingers, some coming so close that they cast a shadow over her as they bounced toward the swamp below. A large cliff jutted out from the loose hillside from the mountain that served as a wall to keep the rest of it from coming down. Venka allowed herself a glance back and saw nothing but a rolling cloud of dust. Had they stayed, she and the male would have been buried alive.

Pulling herself up the rockface, she found a flat, hard surface. There she collapsed, both arms embracing Davee as she held him tight against her, both of their bodies panting hard.

They had survived.

***

He angrily stacked the contents of his pack in neatly arranged rows in front of him, his focus razor-sharp as he took stock of what remained and what her clumsiness had cost them. He hadn't said anything to her yet, but she sat in dumb, embarrassed silence as he muttered under his breath and whispered what she imagined to be numbers accompanied by each bob of his blunt finger. Many of the things he had gathered from the ruins were small, easily portable, and their position within his pack put them in the area accessed when they made camp.

A lot of his exotic cookware was missing. Venka's heart ached with guilt, and she pushed aside selfish thoughts of delicious meals—her shame already immense.

"Davee, I am sorry for my clumsiness," she said, placing a hand on her chest, her feathers ruffling uneasily.

"No!" he growled, startling her. Catching himself, he sighed, pressing a hand to the smooth curve between his furry brows and the light brown patch on top. After a tense moment, he softly said, "No, Venka. No sorry for you."

She frowned.

"I must, Davee," she said quietly, leaning down to meet his eyes. "This is my fault. I should have protected you better, and for this, I am truly sorry."

"Not true, is not fault of Venka, or..." He dropped his hand and looked off into the distance, shaking his head. "No fault of us, Venka."

Reassured, she reached out and touched his leg with a smile, and his anger melted. He smiled back at her and nodded.

She sighed. "I do not suppose you know other male work, do you?" she asked. When he looked at her with a quizzical expression, she said, "Males make the home and carry out all the tasks within. I do not know the ways of your people, but I had hoped you could do other tasks expected of a male after seeing how easily you cooked for both of us."

He narrowed his eyes and asked, "What work?"

"Weaving," she said, holding up the braided patchwork of her bag before motioning with her claws. Then she scratched at one of the remaining cups made of the foreign material and said, "Carving, though this can be female work too. You understand?"

"Weaving cloth," he said as he ran his thumb over the cloth of the pack. When he pointed to her bag he asked, "What cloth?"

"Leather, that is woven cloth, but woven so tightly and finely than anything I have ever seen," she admitted. "I recognize much of your things when I see you use them, but they are so much more... Better than our own. What did we lose?"

He put his hands up and sighed, clearly not attempting to explain the many wondrous items either lost in the muddy water or crushed. Instead, he took the pack and produced a circular device from deeper within, and with a strange, wet crackle, he stretched a length of impossibly thin material and tore it away with his teeth. Venka was immediately curious, so he produced another shorter piece and stuck it to the end of her claw.

It held very firm, impossibly firm, and she could not scrape it off. While she toyed with it, he used the sticky strips to patch the gaping wound her claws had made. Venka noticed the opposite side of the material was glossy and smooth, but if she pushed her claw into it, the glue underneath pushed through. Davee did not need to explain; it was instantly obvious that the sticky circle cloth was meant to repair things, patch holes, and potentially fasten one thing to another. All the explanation she needed came from a simple demonstration on her own claw.

Much of his gear was naturally intuitive even if she had never seen anything like it before, but he seemed to enjoy giving her little demonstrations or things to play with; it was the human that was the true mystery.

"How is your hand?" she asked.

"Hurt, not broke," he replied, pausing the task to hold out his blistered and bruised fingers.

After braving the dangers of the past four days she was beginning to feel the weight of the past three moons press on her mind and soul. A huntress was a provider, someone that kept others alive, and she had been called upon to act as a warrior more than once. From the Riverlands to the valley she had personally watched twelve of her tribe-sisters die, four of their mates joining them, and all to things that seemed so easily prevented looking back. Something as simple as a falling rock turning the hillside into a river of stone, that was all it took.

Though she had not known him long, she felt the grip of worry against her throat over the very real possibility that she would not be able to keep him safe. Perhaps it was selfish of her, but she needed Davee to live.

Venka scowled, but she estimated that this wound would not become serious. Looking up at him, she asked, "Our sky signal, it is gone?"

Davee nodded, motioning the explosion that claimed the device and nearly his own hand.

"It served us well in its final moment," she said with a playful smirk.

As he placed the items carefully back into his pack, Davee nodded and grinned, and Venka giggled at her own little joke.

***

Davee took some gear from Venka's pack and put it into his before they began their walk across the narrow plateau toward the ridge they had fallen from. Venka realized they had somehow ended up on the level she had intended to reach. As she suspected, the hillside flattened out enough, with shrubs and moss indicating stability. Though the ground was uneven and threatened to break an ankle or a leg, it would at least not give out from under them.

They found a place to camp just as the sun began to set. Venka watched as Davee grew frustrated again. Some of the tools he used to make camp, such as the exotic hammer that could even strike and split stone, had been lost, along with his primary means of making fire. Wisely, he had packed several small devices that smelled awful and produced a hissing flame that could burn outward in any direction. Fortunately, she carried the majority of the food, and soon he had prepared a delicious meal of hearty meats, mushrooms, and greens she had stashed in her bag.

While she ate, he asked to see the bag. Surprised at his interest, she handed it to him and watched his little fingers play over the simple embroidery her father had made.

Where the bag came from, she didn't know; one day her mother had brought it home and set it down in front of him while he painted strips of meat with a thick brine to cure them. Venka had not yet grown enough to be ready for her first eggs, but the memory felt close to that time. After finishing his task, her father looked up at his mate and then at her, weaving shapes of feathers dangling from the edges of a circle. When he asked her if she wished for bones or beads, Venka shook her head; she wanted nothing to ruin the beautiful pattern he had made.

As she finished explaining its story, the outstretched hand of her father became Davee's as he handed the bag to her.

"Where father?" he asked.

Venka's face and feathers dropped as the memory drenched her in sorrow and pain. He saw the hurt on her face and frowned with a solemn nod.

"A sickness in his chest," she tapped her own, "took him from us before we left. My father, his name was Ankos, he..." Venka shook her head as tears threatened to form.

"Sorry, Venka," Davee said softly.

She would not cry in front of him. Ever. Venka branded that vow into her mind and kept it there until its heat boiled her tears before they left her eyes.

"My father told me that he had a dream," she said, her gaze off into the night. "A dream that I found a box that I could not open, but inside would be something that I would never want to lose. He said I would break my claws on it before it gave up its secret, and I would know a lot of pain. After he left us, I told the Shaman, but she had no help for me."

Davee looked at her for a moment, his calculating mind working through some unknowable process. "I would like," he paused, searching for words in the fire, "like to see... have seen, your father," he said, trying to console her.

Venka's throat tightened and she nodded. Still looking away, she softly said, "When the Artist painted that dream for him, he had a higher purpose, and..."

Her eyes betrayed her again. Venka's lip quivered, and she stood up, leaving Davee by the fire.