Chapter 15

Where was she now? She’d crossed the Rot Saegri a day ago; she stowed away on a large cargo vessel. It wasn’t hard, she just had to duck under the hull during the dark of night. Then, climb up and crawl through a porthole. A dark corner welcomed her silent waiting.

The ring guided her north-west, towards Mount Witch. How much longer would this journey take? She only had the future to move towards. The past did not matter.

Yaro drifted over grassy hills, sparse with the dull-white abandoned structures of the city of Sornata. Yaro hadn't traveled much up north, never realizing the true scope of the relic metropolis. Sure, everyone knew it was huge, but it was another thing to be flying for days and still be within the city's limits. She skirted the outskirts now, fallen towers still intact speckling the golden landscape. It felt like steppes, cold and barren of trees, those megaliths the bones of that ancient time, only half buried. The new direction was north-west, towards Mount Witch according to the map she took from the last city. That had been days ago, the only things that seemed to be out this way was nothing and the occasional herd.

The one she noted far below, it was a passive herd of Ghrepul. The cumbersome beasts of shaggy fur and arching spines grazed peacefully, sure that in the vastness they could see, there were no predators. There must not be many flying predators if they didn't care for her. She dove, ready to feed, to keep herself going for the next few days. The furthest from the heard was the optimal choice. It could be drifting because it was shunned, sick, curious, or any number of reasons. The solitude of it made it easy prey, no other of the herd to try and come to its defense.

With a freefall, she came down on it. The wind battered her face, pulling at her skin. Before she landed, she outstretched her wings, the membranous flesh feathers yanked painfully, but expectedly. With precision and swiftness, she bit the creature's neck, severing its spine. Its death was painless. There was ample opportunity to do what she needed.

She stood, delicious gore dripping from her fangs. A survey of the land showed none of the other herd would come. They didn't. More than that, they seemed unperturbed by the sudden ending of one of their families. They continued to graze, more stupid than she'd expected them to be.

A shout came from behind her. Ah, that’s why, they’re domesticated. The landscape is so empty, I would have thought they were wild, that taking one would be no issue. I should have expected otherwise. Everyone eats ghrepul, I should know there are very few wild herds left. I was careless, that was it, I let my hunger beat preparation. I’ll have to eat quickly, taking what I can fly with before they find me. I’ll never be rid of this habit, I’ll always jump in before thinking.

A tsohtsi dove on her from the south. Clearly, she needed to look around more, not just down. It made sense to care for a herd from above, where they could see even more than the herd itself. He came down with talons out, ready to rip at Yaro. One whip snapped on the ground. They veered away, but were unable to stop from crashing into the ground. He screamed in pain.

Yaro walked up on him, wanting to get a better understanding. He had sullen eyes, dull feathers, a baggy ribcage. He was old, feeble even. He must not be alone, she supposed. The sky stretched mostly clear, only a few teal clouds stretching lazily against the orange sky. She looked back down at the old man. His left wing bent under him, probably broken.

She should probably end his misery here. He'd lived a good life, probably. And with a broken wing, there was no way he'd be able to keep his herd. Even without it, he was old enough that he couldn't stop Yaro. What good would he do against something that actually meant him harm?

He screeched, "get away from her you monster!"

She had her robe put away, of course. Expectations could not have included meeting someone out here in the middle of nowhere, so why would she risk damaging it? Her whole form towered before him, casting an ugly shadow across his frail form.

He spat at her. The watery substance could not be fully wiped from her cheek, it could be anger or pity that remained for the poor wretch. He had fight in him, despite clearly being on the losing end. He unfortunately found himself in such a position that she could so easily end his life. Though, what purpose would that really serve? She had no reason to even interact with him, he had done this to himself. The flames dissipated up to the tattoos, the cool air swirled around. It was time to leave, there were better things to do. 

"So you will leave me! You will cripple an old man and leave him to die and rot! You're a monster in form and spirit!"

Now that, that got her riled up. She swallowed the heat in her chest and turned back. "You talk a lot for someone who's going to die alone."

"It is your fault."

"Clearly, it is your own."

"You killed Tamana, you killed her!" He wriggled on the ground, rolling off his injured wing. Blood soaked the ground, shattered porous bone poking from the base of the wing. Feathers were matted and falling off. How was he even able to move? His aura only gave off a little discomfort, not the immense pain he should be in. It must be a shock, Yaro supposed.

"Everyone needs to eat. Even monsters." Yaro stepped towards the man who tried to stand up. He kept falling over, that balance used in flight gone. "You look like you're ready to be sent to Tukk."

He grunted, trying to lift himself off the ground again, hoping and falling down. "If I am to die, I will be sure to haunt you for the rest of your days."

He was no threat to her, even if he wanted to be. Yaro smirked, exhaling smoke in a long sigh. I should leave, I really should. But this fighting spirit in such a pathetic body, I can’t…  I could do something with him. Right?  Did this random man who attacked me, spat at me, deserve anything? Maybe. I killed his livestock, though there were plenty still alive in the herd. Why should I feel bad for stealing?

"I will drag you to Yon," he spat. "Do you hear me!"

Yaro took another step closer, bending down. His eyes locked as she inspected. His were intense, yellow and full of... not hatred, but a different kind of anger. His aura still only felt a light bit of pain and a lot of anger, but there was an underlying sorrow there, too. He knew he was going to die. "I do, old man. I hear you. And you very well might, but not today."

She shoved him to the ground. His body was so light, so easy to break. I hope I don’t fracture anything else, that would mean more work. He wormed, "get off of me, beast! To Yon with you."

"You can try to send me there," she said forcing his wing flat against the ground. The wing must be set first, otherwise it would not heal properly and he wouldn't be able to fly. "This is going to hurt, so be still."

He writhed against her grip, barely able to even shake her. He was so weak, how did he expect to protect anything? Before getting to work, she took one last look around. In the golden grass, she spotted something brown, a stick. It was not far from where he'd landed. He hadn’t been holding anything to her memory, but she was safer assuming it was some kind of weapon. There was just no other way he'd be here all alone with such a frail body. Right, mental note: retrieve that after I’m done.

Yaro inspected the grievous wound. Bone tore through muscle, wet with blood and gore. It was completely shattered and would not heal properly, too many missing fragments. She turned it over, uncaring as he screamed endless profanities, “Kak, to Yon, water bag, Gaiti, Kakagoh, Kak”. 

It needed to be ripped open more, to ensure that any more fractures are healed. It was the best thing for him. So she did, taking one claw and putting it in her mouth. She sucked it for a few seconds, cleaning away all the dirt and ghrepul blood from it to make it as clean as possible. Mending was on course, but she could not fully protect against infection. And, in the middle of nowhere, there wasn't much of an option for sterilization. Sickness may not come to her, but it did to others.

All his anger, sorrow, pain, it all washed away in a fear that threatened to drag her down. The gross taste of the nail dirt faded with each swallow.

One claw felt She took that claw and put it against the exposed bone. She dragged it down, towards the base of the old man's arm. He screamed for a while, fading the closer she got. By the time she finished severing his flesh the other way, he had fainted. This was great, no more wriggling and pain in her ears. The work was slow, each lap against flesh took seconds to travel up his arm.

After the sayk passed it's apex, with a sigh, she took a break. I’m not getting those memories back. Ever. I don’t even have that feeling anymore, just conjecture based on the surrounding memories. It’s like a hole, skips in time where someone existed and only expectations of what went on there. 

The herd followed them at a reasonable distance the walk. The beasts slowly made their way closer to them, some actually emanating worry. I suppose their protector dying would be more adverse to living than some ostracized member. This man’s blood and muscle aren’t very tasty. Probably the best for him is that he doesn't taste good. Though I’ve never been partial to bird meat.

The sayk started to set by the time she finished. The air crispened, prickling against her bare skin and nearly freezing her scales. The sky called, reminding how warm it is so high up. Wisps of clouds like beckoning limbs running by. 

Back down at the work, the wound had been completely sealed. No one would have suspected the injury if it weren't for the scar and the large amount of missing feathers. His skin was so pale and wrinkly, she wondered if she'd done enough that he could fly again.

While he was out, she walked over to that stick she'd noted earlier. And, to her non-surprise, it was a weapon. It was a thunderspear, the tip polished and unused. I wonder why he hadn’t used it. Why bother try and grab me with those weak talons? If he had used it, I probably would have flown off, possibly saving the life of that beast. Instead, he crashed and broke his wing. Yaro picked it up, inspecting it without too much thought as to why.

"Please," she heard faintly behind her. "Please, just don't kill me." She turned back to see the old man still lying on the ground. He'd rolled over, eyes open with terror and tears. "Please don't kill me."

I’m not going to. Why would I waste so much time just to throw it all away? I’m not sure why I healed this geezer in the first place, I get nothing out of it. But I sure as Yon won’t kill him now. She held up the thunderspear, pointing it to the sky in case it went off. The weapon felt strange in her palms, sturdy yet rippling with anxiety. Protectors used them all the time, they had an easy time shooting poor people. Even Natrai’s crew kept them close by their beds, smaller ones, called bik, more like a thunder dagger. "Why didn't you shoot me?"

"Eh- what? Why didn't I?" His greying eyes focused on the spear. "Oh..." He rolled to get up. He gingerly put weight on his wing, letting an emission of surprise escape when he found he could use it to stand back on his talons. "I... You did this?"

"I did," Yaro said, using the spear as a walking stick. If it went off while she tapped it against the ground, well, that means it wouldn't go off at her. "I'll ask again, and you'd better answer this time. Why didn't you shoot me."

His pupils dilated as he met her eyes. "I wanted to save Tamana, if possible. I didn't know you'd already killed her. You Yon-bound monster."

Why had she saved this old man? There really wasn't anything she would have possibly gotten out of it. Even with the thunderspear in her possession, what good was it if she didn't know how to operate it? Time and energy were wasted for absolutely no reason. She looked over to where the corpse of her kill , where the other Ghrepul refused to step within ten paces of. "I'll take that ghrepul as payment."

"Payment? You are going to take my precious Tamana as payment for nearly killing me?"

"You landed on the ground yourself, breaking your own wing."

He grumbled something too high-pitched for Yaro to hear. "No, you will not take her. I must take her home and butcher her, I cannot let her go to waste."

Yaro didn't expect such callous reasoning from this old man who seemed to have such love for the creature. He'd even named it. "I'll bring it back, you just lead the way."

Before he could respond with words, only emanating disbelief, she left him for the fallen Tamana. She tapped her necklace, hoping she could put the thunderspear in her holder. I give thanks to you Ah, though you’re probably not around to hear this. It puffed into smoke and was absorbed by the black pebble. Grabbing the dead meat with one hand, she pulled it back to the shepherd. He eyed her, then began walking east. Of course she'd be led away from where the ring pulled her.

A ward on his talon shimmered and the ghrepul herd followed them; at a distance.

It was dark by the time they'd reached the old man's home. She'd flown over this area before, only scattered rocks and buildings. But within one of these buildings was his home, furnished with grass-woven furniture and ghrepul-fur stuffed leather cushions. It was quiet as he flipped a switch and turned on the home's lights. Modern electricity was a surprise out here. I should probably start expecting less.

"Leave her by the front door. I'll tend to the proper rituals in the morning." He paused, looking back at Yaro who stood in the door. "Come in."

He wasn't very gracious, but she supposed the situation was peculiar enough that formalities and pleasantries may not be called for. Hesitation whispered debates on if she should walk through the door, into a likely trap, or turn the other way to never be seen again. The cold at her back disappeared with the warmth of the home. It was not welcoming like Egra's home or the home of that gorgon. It didn't smell good either, burnt hide and manure being the predominant smells. It was still more welcoming than the outside.

"Sit," He said, pointing to a cushion made of ghrepul hide with his fixed wing. "I'll get dinner."

Dinner. How odd that this hermit has such hospitality. I’ve killed his livestock, stole his weapon… She looked around, noting the many parts of the ghrepul used for various things. Horns over a mantle healed another thunderspear, this one ancient and dusty. Tables were woven with grasses, ornaments made for stringed and bound hide. She sat down, pulling out her cloak to wrap around herself. The cold had creeped into her, using her exhaustion as a portal. I just want to be warm. I’ve already spent time in this random persons home, what’s another night?

She asked, “why? Aren’t you disgusted by my appearance?”

“I am,” he said coldly. “But what one looks like does not reflect what is on the inside. I’m more concerned that you killed Tamana, that’s the ugliness I despise. But you did not do so out of malice, I can tell. Now eat, before I change my mind.”

Yaro doesn’t believe him. He made no mention of her heritage, the reason why she was ugly at all. Maybe in this part of the world, on the other side of the Rot Saegri, the war did not leave as lasting of an impact? The bloodshed spanned all of Kald those nearly eight thousand years ago, but was the most brutal in the center between the Rot Saegri and the Vokren Mountains.

Yaro waited in the sounds of pots and pans clanging. A few minutes later, the old man returned with two bowls. It was soup, of course. The best way to deliver food, hydration, and flavor. Not that any of that mattered to Yaro. In a separate part of his ethereal hand, he brought bread. He set the bowls and two cut loaves on a table near where Yaro sat. He sat across from her, immediately eating. 

She picked up one of the loaves. It was hard, inedible to her. She eyed the old man who let his soak in the soup. She did the same, taking the soggy mess out and taking a bit. It was not good. It tasted of nothing and salt. The texture was awful, a wet grainy mess that seemed to leave a thin coating in her mouth. The rest was gone in short order.