The child’s vision momentarily darkened, and no thought reached her mind.
She realized the end had come. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the impending pain.
In her head, she summoned Semi’s face—always teasing, always genuinely worried, warning her never to turn her back on savage beasts.
But no agonizing bite or severing blow arrived, no matter how long she waited. Tentatively, she opened her eyes.
The fleeting darkness receded, and her sight slowly returned.
White wings overshadowed most of her field of vision. In the clear space beyond, she saw only the dark soil and bare limbs of trees. Tree branches?
She reached up to sweep aside the wing that cocooned her and looked down beneath her feet. A thick bough arced behind her, tapering as it ran under her toes. Spotting the thin branch she stood on, she swayed her body in alarm.
The gnarled, ebony trunk belonged to an ancient tree where a winged creature had once rested. This time it was larger—and not alone—but the generous tree did not object to offering its branch as a makeshift perch.
Yet no host welcomes a squirming guest. The more she flailed her arms to avoid falling, the more the tree shook its limbs, intent on jarring her free.
“Shh. Stay still. You’ll fall.”
At the voice, the child froze like a gargoyle seized by a vampire’s bite.
Still in mid-squirm, she felt the creature’s wing slip around her, pressing her close to the trunk.
The crushing pressure would have suffocated most, but she found herself relieved—no longer in danger of slipping into the void.
Only then did she lift her head and peer down.
Where she had stood, a Foulbeast had scented the air, clawed at the earth, and probed the hole with twitching ears. Had she collapsed there instead of being swept up, she would have fled again from the predator’s snout.
The Foulbeast circled once, then turned and slipped away into the underbrush.
The child exhaled the breath she didn’t know she’d held. She examined the scar on her fingertip and the red bruises blooming along her legs, and bit her lip against the sting.
While the child languished in pain, the creature alighted lightly from the branch to survey her.
When she descended, her soles scraped against the bark, and she tumbled onto the earth.
She drew her legs up, curling into a ball until the ache abated. She had expected the winged guardian to flutter close—but scorned herself for the momentary hope.
Why had it saved her from the Foulbeast? Semi had warned her: trust no one, not just in the village but beyond.
Except Semi, of course.
Could the world outside be truly void of even the faintest joy after hardship and despair?
Was the land beyond the village condemned to die day by day, wither to nothing?
It couldn’t be. Semi had insisted the outside was different. We could make it different.
She couldn’t face suffering alone. Like the moment she first clambered into the tree without knowing why, the creature had shielded her in its wings and hidden her in shadow.
It lowered its wing and covered its mouth with a large hand, its cool gaze fixed on the clearing below. The child followed its stare and saw a man emerge next to the Foulbeast’s pit.
She pressed herself deeper into the gloom, shrinking away from the intruder. The stranger—eyes flicking upward, mouth curled in menace—did not notice their movement below.
“Kid, you little runt—where did you vanish to?”
He spat the words, eyeing the clearing as if expecting her to be perched in the trees. He crouched, scanning the dirt but never tearing his gaze from the branches above.
“I know you’re there. You better come out now. I’m not going to… I won’t kill you. That’s generous of me. You know what happens to kids like you in our village, don’t you?”
He bellowed. The child neither spoke nor drew breath. She recalled Semi’s tale: how the bully only found her when she dared to step out during hide-and-seek.
Surely this man was no better than Semi’s antagonists.
If she couldn’t trust Semi’s bullies, how could she trust him?
That thought soothed her, and she relaxed the tension in her legs.
He hurled his sword at the bough above.
Thunk
The blade sliced through the air, cleaving the branch and embedding itself with a metallic ring.
The man sighed. “Blinkin’ quick, ran off already. Came here because I heard the tree shaking… Useless.”
Rather than climb after it, he swung a hand axe at the limb, hacking it down along with the sword. He wrenched the blade free, then stalked into the brush, venting his frustration by hacking at anything in range.
After he left, the child stayed cradled in shadow. The guardian made no move. She remained hidden until the trickle of blood from her foot stopped.
Carefully, she rose and gauged the direction he had taken. Beyond the thicket lay the wilds, and somewhere ahead, a riverbank.
She recalled the visitors who claimed the river marked the boundary of the Foulbeasts’ domain. If she followed the path where the predator fled, the water would appear.
The creature watched her still, its wings folded. In the dim light, their sizes were not so different. If stripped of its wings, it would be as small as she. Its eyes were pale, its skin darkened by dust and sweat, while hers was pale and unmarked—yet both shared solitude in silence.
She knew she should speak, but not yet.
She needed to choose her path and run.
Resolute, she would cross the river and keep going—just as she had planned.
She slipped through the forest, unmet by any man, but other creatures barred her way.
She could have fought or retreated—yet instead, she stalked them warily, following the same tracks.
Behind her, the guardian kept pace.
At last she reached the riverbank. She shed her fear and plunged into the surge.
Foulbeasts that lingered on the shore bolted. One hesitated at the water’s edge, then flapped its wings. Another lunged for her.
The lead Foulbeast snarled in irritation—its thick fur matted apart—and bared claws, usually hidden from the water, gleaming in the gloom.
The child laughed, pressing her bloodied dagger in reverse grip beneath the waves.
“Thought I was foolish, right? Semi told me Foulbeasts pick their prey and wait patiently. And you stand out with all that fur.”
She lowered her hand. The beast charged, and she slashed at its face.
It halted, shaken—but its claws reached for her again. In the moment she staggered back, the guardian intervened, slamming the Foulbeast into the depths.
The child’s eyes lit with excitement. She rinsed her blade in the current.
“Thank you. Just so you know.”
They waded across the river and walked until darkness fell. Then they kindled a small fire and faced each other.
Crickets chirped as night enveloped them. The fire seared flesh, and they watched the Foulbeast meat roast.
The child looked away from the flames and back at the guardian.
“So… are you a man or a woman?”
The guardian frowned. She hurried to add:
“I mean, you seem old. Or… someone important. Not some ancient fey, right? You can’t use Arts. If you’re human, you must have a gender. I just can’t tell by looking.”
“Man.”
The simple word froze her thoughts.
“O-okay. Got it. And your name?”
“Do you need to know that, too?”
She fidgeted, tugging at her hair.
“Honestly, I’m leaving the village behind. One day, my friend will come out here, and we’ll share tales of my adventures and laugh together. Then… who knows?”
“An absurd dream.”
He carved the meat with her dagger.
“Most people feel that way. I learned it traveling.”
“Traveling? You mean like those visitors? Adventurers or… what are they called? Prospectors? Is that it?!”
“Scouts or explorers—similar but distinct.”
“So I just need to roam Kazdel! Hey, could you take me with you? I’ll do anything!”
He hesitated, then offered her a handful of meat.
“Fine, if you insist. My name’s Jo—just Jo.”
She blinked as the name slipped from her lips.
“I’m Semi. Call me Semi.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.
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