A great yawning mouth snapped open beneath the surface, leaving a void that splashed when it fell. And before that cavernous maw could close, she stared into a creature that could swallow her whole. An oblong disk, it lurked unseen, mostly flat. Disguised in less than a foot of water, this predator would simply wait until some hapless idiot was ensnared by a pretty dancing flower. Lured by the scent of finer things.
Water gushing everywhere, its jaw flapped shut, filtering the excess liquid through gill slits that ran along the visible part of its body. Geysers filtering what might have been her grave.
Overwhelmed, the girl laughed as she stood once more. Teetering toward hysterics, she embraced false security, presuming the creature was not land worthy with so ungainly a body, and turned from the water’s edge. Giving up her back, she set her gaze to the field of bodies and everything on her side of the moat.
Concrete, bones, and death. Nothing more, except the vague possibility that Hadim might be coming for her. The stark knowledge that no matter how much she hurt or bled, no matter the urge to lay down and sleep forever, she could not stay.
And so, with gritted teeth and throbbing tail bone, she pressed on. Searching for valuables amongst the dead, ignoring the worst of her wounds.
It wasn’t long before she was outfitted in leathers that hung from her slender frame, a backpack stuffed full of various other scavenged goods slung over the shoulder less damaged from her fall. Her wounds throbbing and screaming for relief, but the girl knew she couldn’t stop. Not until she’d devised some way over the moat. Not until the wall was out of sight and Hadim nothing more than a recurring nightmare.
Her eye caught on his banner—a red lava-kin on black silk—flapping in the breeze. Threatening and ominous, for it was attached to a spear. A spear that could only have been thrown from the wall above, impaling some unfortunate that had died many seasons past.
But to the girl, it was salvation.
Scrambling over a pile of bones, she climbed until she reached the summit. Retrieved the spear and finally returned her attention to the moat.
Her timing would have to be flawless, or it was all for nothing. Her unsteady balance compensated for. One shot, or she’d learn what was inside those ugly water dwellers that could swallow an Anhur whole.
Balanced on the edge of the moat, she approached the nearest flower. Scanning for gleaming yellow eyes.
It was a stupid beast. One that would try the same tactic over and over, until its hunger was sated. But it was that same lack of intelligence that served her so well, and with a deep breath, she found her balance. Took aim, then lunged.
The spear landed beautifully. With a heavy thunk that struck between the eyes. But she did not release her weapon, instead redoubling her grip, she leapt. Feet landing on the beast’s slippery skin, toes finding purchase in the gill slits, she clung to the spear’s shaft. Squealing at the top of her scratchy voice.
Already dying, the predator reared and took her with it. Spinning, it thrashed, lifting her and the spear into the air as it whirled. Flooding the banks. Displacing a tsunami that swept bodies by the dozen into the murky water.
But as it lurched away from the pain pounding into its primitive brain, it ferried her to the other side. Legs hanging perpendicular to the damp ground, her fingers clutching the spear with every last remaining ounce of strength, she simply… stepped off on the opposite bank. Making sure to yank her spear from the flesh before she went.
It was then, as she plopped down into the muddy bank with the wilds at her back, that she took notice of a much larger beast. In less time than it took her to blink, a void opened up beneath her boatman, and it slid into the gullet of a creature so large, it shouldn’t have been able to exist in water so shallow.
Smearing the muck from her hands down her thighs, she stood. Dressed in scavenged leathers, knowing she stank of death, the girl dared to smile—and it was terrible.
Chapter 7
Pressing her face deeper into the thin blanket of fur, she scowled and kicked. Uncomfortable. Sweating hot, yet unwilling to sleep in the nude, lest some uninvited guest stumble into the cave she’d chosen for the night. Her spear clenched between calloused fingers. For months, she’d been able to scrape by undetected, relying on the utterly foul scent that saturated her leathers.
Dead man’s fat.
It clung like nothing else. Saturated her scent with that of carrion and made her invisible to the males who roamed these woods.
And the monsters.
But if it was wearing off?
Shivering in spite of the heat, she threw off her blanket. She’d have to find another corpse.
“Should have tried to collect some off the last dead Anhur,” she mumbled, yawning. Speaking aloud just to hear another voice, to break the silence so it matched her mood. For the third night in a row, sleep had evaded and mocked, leaving her skin hot and itchy. Her eyes burning, aching and light-sensitive.
Bleary-eyed, she stumbled over loose shale and into the moonlight, her spear doubling as a walking staff. The stub of her docked tail sending splinters of pain shooting through her nerves with every other step—a sensation she’d grown accustomed to, no matter how irritating.
Three times, the moons had waned.
Three times they’d waxed while she’d been living this new life of a renegade.
Teeth flashing, she shook out sweat damp hair, gazing up at the triplet moons. Her skin cooling in a gentle breeze. It was a hard life, but one she relished. She’d survived. Eaten her first kill raw and done her best to learn the old witching ways. Teaching herself to eat from the forest, where to find the best shelter, and the water not poisoned with volcanic sulfur. That it was best to hide from the vicious beasts dominating the wild.
She’d seen creatures beyond anything she could possibly imagine. A flock of tiny jewel colored, winged lizards that spit acid and gorged on scalded flesh. Giant, tusked water wallowers caked in decades of muck, a veritable island of mud and vegetation growing straight from their broad, oblong backs.
And she’d taken pains not to be seen by the packs of roaming predators. Those stealthy jungle lurkers who stalked the edge of the visible world. Ravenous. Dressed in claws and teeth and poisoned barbs, their senses attuned to the dark. Their appetites bottomless, outmatched only by the next hungry mouth fighting for supremacy.
The wilds suffered no innocent fools.
She grew hardened by all that she saw, felt something akin to sympathy for the Anhur, who’d come from this hellscape of volcanic misery. For those ancient tribal packs who’d needed to fight for every breath, made to evolve simply to survive deadly herbivores and demonic predators.
But she would never forget Hadim. That he might be coming for her, even now. Bent on retribution, on punishing her until the very last breath was forced from her lungs.
So she learned to avoid detection from those who would enslave.
It was vigilance and experimentation, pure and simple.
When another might be content to find a place to stay, she roamed. Never sleeping in the same den twice, she hunted when her stomach growled. Mastered the spear that had kept her alive and ate her fill of the forest’s bounty. Utterly lawless, she’d found the life that suited her best.
Where once she’d been all soft curves and delicate angles, she was now hard and lean. Coated in rangy muscle, her body could meet the challenge and demand she required of it.