***

CHAPTER FOUR

***


With a swipe of her claws, Venka revealed the creature's hidden nest. Fear filled his eyes as he looked up at her.

"We have to go!" she snarled. "Now!"

He struggled, but her strength was overwhelming. She hoisted him over her shoulder like a hock of meat.

A spear flew past, embedding itself in a tree behind them.

Venka didn't look back. She simply ran, instincts taking over. She leaped over shrubs at the woodline and bounded through the tall, sharp grass—like the very animals she had hunted. Over her shoulder he wailed something, slapping her back as another spear came dangerously close to them before splashing in the mud ahead of her. Panic raced through her like a dammed river finally being released, splashing and consuming thought and reason. Her legs sank into the mud, and she wailed as water splashed her thighs, her toes barely finding purchase to carry them through.

Another spear came in, then another, her mind flashing to those butchered and skinned bodies of her tribe-sisters. She didn't want to die here.

Still holding him, she bent forward to crawl, clawing through the mud like a beast. Toward the other side of the wallow, the ground beneath became firmer; rising up as she fought through to solid ground.

He screamed something at her and she changed directions automatically out of fright. Another spear whistled in, but found no flesh to pierce.

What had started as a deliberate escape devolved into a mindless rout. She ran wherever her legs took her, weaving through the forest, over fallen logs, down a hill, and then clawing her way one-handed up a rocky face. They followed, but their short legs could only carry them so far, so fast. She started to calm as the distance between them grew. Venka had to think of something to lose them, and fast, because her strength was beginning to wane.

Ahead the ground disappeared. She threw herself backward and grimaced as they skidded toward the ledge.

The creature peeked over her. He mumbled something, softly at first, his voice disbelieving.

Venka could not speak his flowery, babbling tongue, but their shared look spoke volumes. The word he said next was negative. He did not want to do this, refused, in fact. He repeated himself as she stood up, much louder, his body tensing in her tightened grip.

Looping back a few paces and with a deep inhale, she sprinted with all her might toward the rocky ledge. He shouted as her feet pounded the ground, her heart thundered in her chest, and the wind whipped through her feathers as her feet found empty air.

She took a few sharp breaths, then a deep one.

The water below looked cold.

***

Two claws of sun had passed before the terror in her neck began to wane. Her chest heaved, lungs desperate for more air, but she did not stop. The Low People could only be evaded by distance and obstacles, and she wanted both. They would struggle to track her through the underground stream, at least until they found the first crevice leading up to the surface. She guessed that the little stream was partially the source of the creek her people once used at their former camp.

Somehow her path took her back to the place where the trees had been flattened back, the dirt dug up and thrown, and the very ground itself had been scorched to a fine powder.

When she did sit down, it was at the edge of the ruins from before. A pillar of black smoke climbed high into the air, merging with a haze of yellow and brown far above. The entire area reeked of acrid remains that still smoldered. Venka released the male and watched him as he looked upon the structure, her own exhaustion melting before the curiosity she felt toward him. Unsurprisingly, he began to cry. Quiet tears rolled down his dirty cheeks as he looked at the ruin and then to the sky. Anger contorted his little face as he glared at another finger of flame crossing through the clouds.

They remained like that for a short while. He eventually settled down against some debris and said something. At first, it might have seemed like a prayer, but the creature was angry. He wanted to lash out, to get revenge, but the only person nearby was her.

With a sharp fury in his eyes, he glared at her. Her feathers raised to the challenge, but he was unbothered. Venka smoothed them back with her claws.

"I did not do this," she explained, motioning to the wreckage. "When I arrived, the fire had come to your home."

He answered with something, perhaps something unkind, and folded his arms.

"Why would I bother you or your people?" she asked, taken aback by the implication. "I did not even know your kind existed until yesterday. Why do you blame me, softskin?"

He shook his head and said nothing.

"I would never harm something like this," she sighed, looking at the vast structure. "I wish I could have seen it before. I find it wonderful, fascinating."

She looked at him. With a huff, she lifted herself off the ground and sat next to him in one motion, laying her hand against his arm as she watched his expression.

"I find you fascinating too," she admitted, offering a reassuring smile.

He looked at her hand and then up at her. His response was not surly or spiteful, even though he still appeared unhappy. Until she found her tribe again, she had no one, and the prospect of never seeing any of them again weighed on her. She looked at the creature, and all at once, she understood his burden and sorrow. At least with her, he had a chance, but his people were no more. Venka tried to imagine how she would feel with that knowledge and guessed that this would haunt him for some time. Yet, their immediate survival was the only thing that mattered.

Sighing, the creature tapped his chest and said something. She shook her head, but he simply tapped his chest again and repeated the word.

"Dahhvee?" she repeated. "Is this your name?" He motioned to her, his fingers rapping on the invisible surface between them.

Venka looked down and then up at him. Closing her eyes, she took his hand into her palm and pressed her snout to his palm before licking from the tip of his finger to the wrist, smirking at his startled expression. Obviously, his kind did not greet this way.

She released him and held out her palm as she put her opposite hand to her chest and said, "Venka."

He grimaced, but with a quick rasp of his tongue against her palm, he repeated it perfectly. Davee and Venka smiled together.

Evidently satisfied with the name situation, he pointed to the ruins and said another word. Venka motioned and asked, "Go?" Davee repeated it, miming walking with his nimble little fingers. "I see," she sighed. "Do you need things from your home?"

Davee frowned. She was saying too much.

"Do you," she pointed to him, "want," her fist tightened to indicate possession before she mimed the next words with her hands, "to go... there?" Before he could respond she tapped her chest. "I, Venka, I," she paused before making a cradling motion with her arm, "carry Davee?"

He nodded.

"Venka carry Davee there to go," he said in response. After a correction, he said, "Venka carry Davee there."

"Do you want to see," she used both hands to tap the scales on her flat cheeks, "or take?" she asked, picking up the bag on her side and dropping it.

"Take," Davee answered. "Want..." he thumbed the thin cloth against his body.

"Cloth?" she asked. "Clothes. Davee want clothes," she explained. When he pointed to his feet, she cocked her head as her feathers flared and followed the invisible line down his legs. With the back of a claw, she tested the smooth pad and jerked away when he flinched. Everything about the male was soft, pliable. She had been concerned about him perishing earlier, and had she known he was so dainty, he would not have gone without a blanket or something else. She understood then why he needed her to carry him; even the undersides of his feet were impossibly soft. Something about the prospect of an exotic male so unaccustomed to walking was...

Venka shook the dirty thought out of her mind and smoothed her feathers, unable to do anything about the blush on her cheeks and neck.

"Venka will carry Davee to find sandals for his soft feet," she declared, offering her hand to him. He smiled and allowed himself to be pulled up into her arms again.

***

With a guide that understood the runes on the walls, she felt much more confident walking the strange hallways, but she remained cautious of the danger that surrounded them. He guided her through the way she had initially come and at the first door, she intended to go to the right again, toward food, but that way had sagged under the heat and looked far too dangerous. Davee didn't want to proceed down that corridor; instead, he directed her to the left and into the shadows. After twenty or so paces, he halted her before a doorway, just wide enough for her claws to grasp and force open.

Depositing Davee gently nearby, she watched as he stood on the edges of his feet, his eyes scanning for unseen dangers while she pried the door open. Once she retrieved the male, he spent several moments brushing his feet clean with both hands. Obviously, there was danger for him there, but she remained unaffected. Perhaps due to her weathered soles?

Within the new chamber, shrouded in near-total darkness, he guided her to a hidden panel in the wall. Leaning forward in her arms, he pried it open.

"What do you have there?" she asked as he piled several items into his lap. Since the light was so poor inside the structure, she had trouble distinguishing anything except basic shapes, but the crafty male had a solution for that. Some of the objects crinkled like dried leaves, and he tore one open with his blunt teeth, unveiling the true prize within. As she watched, he gripped one item, and with a muted crack it began to glow a mesmerizing greenish-yellow; intensifying with a firm shake.

"You are a sorcerer of your tribe?" she breathed, her voice tinged with awe. "Magic from the male hand is rare indeed."

He smirked and muttered something before repeating the process several times. Each item emitted the same enchanting glow, except for one that shone a haunting blue, reminiscent of the smelly water from her first visit. Using some cordage included with the items, he bundled them together and dangled them just out of sight, but their glow carried on into the rest of the room and she could see rows of rectangular shapes. Davee pointed to one of the middle rows and she followed his instruction, looking around the corner at the squat benches and scattered debris between the rows.

Davee walked across the benches after she let him go, holding the bundle of glowing rods above as his fingers traced over the arcane runes.

He stopped at one of the tall rectangles and said some words; Venka only understood one to be his name.

Unable to remain still, she stepped onto the bench and cautiously approached him, squatting as he withdrew a collection of items from the open void. Many of them were clothes, her eyes fell upon him as he dressed himself, her feathers flaring high in a straight line that displayed her intense curiosity. As his body disappeared beneath the garments, she restrained her tail from wagging too hard; so captivated by the strange fasteners made of unfamiliar materials and beads. His feet were encased in fabric pockets of a cloth so white it seemed to glow, the form of his ankles and toes barely visible before he slipped them into the large sandals that covered everything. Strings threaded through impossibly fine holes, cinched tight, and tied with a bow, tucked into the lace.

Finally, he stood and and looked to her, offered his hand.

Venka gazed at it, then took it, allowing him to lead her across the benches to the other side of the room, the glowing rods lighting their path. On the opposite side, she stepped down, her eyes following his dexterous hands as they pried open a container. Within it contained a gift, a treat, her tongue flicking as he held it out, and she accepted it with a gentle nibble that ended in a satisfying snap once his hand was safely away.

An explosion of flavor, unlike anything she had known, surged from her jaw and cheeks, down her back, and into her tail. This substance was undeniably edible, savory until it turned sweet, with hints of alien fruits and a faint memory of... something. She sighed in delight as she chewed, her eyes closing to savor the sensation within her watering mouth. The flavor brought to mind the milk from a pregnant kill, Venka having sampled some upon her first hunt as a grown female as was custom, but the flavor had been twisted somehow...

Putting a hand to her cheek she could not suppress the soft moan, her neck scales blushing a deep crimson when he laughed.

Another morsel was pressed to her snout, she plucked it from his salty fingers with her flexible tongue, resuming her ecstatic chewing. All doubts about his worth to the tribe dissolved; surely anyone could be seduced by his tasty gifts.

"What is this?" she breathed, her eyes slowly opening. When he spoke the word, she swallowed the last of it. "Chezkek...?" she repeated. "Is that what I shall call this?"

He shrugged.

"I thank you for this chezkek," she sighed, bowing her head respectfully. "I have decided you do not owe me your life, so I accept this gift as a friend."

Davee said something else, motioning to a distant door in the middle of the sentence. When she didn't immediately follow, he started to walk that way.

"You have your sandals, Davee," she protested, pointing to his feet. Tapping her head, she motioned toward him and asked, "Why?"

He had no word for eating or drinking until she explained them, but Venka got the point and walked after the strange male into the darkness.

***

Their search of the ruins ended only when Davee could carry no more in the large bags he had acquired for them. The heavy mass upon her back remained a mystery. Had he not chosen to carry some of the load himself, she might have protested, but the structure's groans and shudders interrupted any chance for learning new words or sampling some of the wonderful things that the flames had not touched. Strangely, they encountered no other bodies except for one, which had perished sometime after the disaster struck.

Fortunately, she did not have to try to explain to him about the Low People yet. He seemed to understand the urgency of their mission, even if he did not know the details, and he only stopped briefly to say something to the corpse. For the first time, Venka witnessed his religious beliefs. He muttered a brief prayer in his language and made a gesture from head to abdomen, then from his right shoulder across his chest. The significance was clear, as were the beads clutched in his hand. This older male, perhaps a father, stirred the biting memory of her own lost parents, spurring her into action.

Davee watched as she placed her hand on the male's back, whispering a plea for the Goddess to carry his soul to its rightful place. Though she might not recognize him as one of her own, his soul still held importance. Kneeling, she embraced Davee, whispering another plea to the Artist to paint beauty over his terrible dreams. He would be receptive to such a request; the troubled mind was His favorite canvas.

Without further ceremony, they set off for the pass through the mountains, but by her estimation, it would have taken them another day's worth of travel to even reach it. After the sun began to dip under the horizon, she elected to abandon their things and climb a tree, but the haze had returned; the miraculous view of the pass existed somewhere within the soup of smoke. With less bounce in her step, she began to understand just how far off course they were. She sincerely hoped the Low People pursued them, not the Shaman and the children. Sahla and the other huntresses would protect and guide them, she thought.

Nightfall brought a surprise from Davee. Squatting nearby, she watched him unroll that he had placed at the top of her heavy pack. Soon, he had erected a thin shelter, just large enough for both of them if she crawled on her hands and knees. Yet even that was not good enough; her growing excitement was cut down at the root as he stopped her from entering unless it was done by sliding backward. He demonstrated this several times until she complied, her long figure sliding into a bed prepared specially for her.

There was room for two, she thought, but he had made a smaller bed for himself. They shared a meal of some of his people's food prepared with no heat, no flame, and went to sleep.