“Kinri. Do you smell that? I smell blood.”

I flicked my tongue and whirled its forks. After a beat it was pressed against the roof of my mouth, and I only smelled the evil sulfur of the Berwem. I ignored it and grasped for the tastes at the fringes. Grape and chamomile? No. Boily crab meat? No. Faint sweat and blood blowing in from the distance⁠ ⁠—⁠ there it is.

What had happened? The lake was stingy with life. And for what it did allow, none were mammals. Was it something wandered and lost in the lake? Had it come here on purpose? Why here, and what did it want? Was it dead? Had something attacked it? But why⁠ ⁠—

“Follow me.” Hinte’s voice stole into my fluttering mess of questions. The command to do something felt so simple, so commonsense, almost not worth giving. But it worked.

Then I waved my tongue.

“Hinte?” I saw her turn back to me, fangs bared. “Are we going toward the blood? It might be⁠ ⁠—⁠ it’s dangerous. We should head back to town and⁠ ⁠—” 

“You can go back.” The wiver stalked off.

I hissed. Really, I could handle this⁠ ⁠—⁠ whatever this was, right? If Hinte could handle it, if I had Hinte there with me, things would go fine.

And if I did go back, what would she think? That I had no wind under my wings? That I really was useless?

I strode into step beside her, unfolding my wings and stalking forward.

As we went, the smell loomed more hauntingly, danger limned in scent. The closer we went, and the surer I was that even when I held my tongue the stink clung. Shadows were twisting into shapes suggesting what monster lay at the source⁠ ⁠—⁠ a dying furless wolf, lethally pursued by an angry, hungry pack⁠ ⁠—⁠ a towering, lumbering gorilla injured and overready to kill just to quietly recover⁠ ⁠—⁠ some horse-like creature hunted by strange primitive dragons whose language I didn’t speak and⁠ ⁠—

I licked my eyes.

I was walking over the empty lake, sheltered in glairy lantern light; Hinte was right beside, and nothing moved in the dark, dirty mist of the lake. The only sound was the lake rumbling and the wind almost laughing. The smell that had stood so salient to me still wafted faint, distant.

My wings had drooped, and my stalking faded to a march, then a simple low-walk, and now I just slinked after Hinte. At least the smell had grown stronger.

With the suns cast away, only the ground beneath us could hint at any true movement⁠ ⁠—⁠ and dustone covered the lake to the shores and then some. Now, though, no more molten glass burst up, and the murky veins grew fainter; we must have come to another shore.

When my next breath didn’t try to burn my throat, I couldn’t help but laugh: Free of the lake once more!

Far away from this shore, a rising cliff wall dipped and split along its length; and in the split a little narrow gully snaked into the wall, and wound upward.

I looked up at the cliff, then across, as far as the faint glairy rays illumed. If it weren’t night, this would make a fun place to fly around. Imagine leaping from one of the tall⁠ ⁠—⁠ but not too tall⁠ ⁠—⁠ heights of the cliff and trying to glide back into the gully! I wiggled my wings.

We approached, and you could see that the gully was just a big, steep dip in the cliff wall: it had a sheer face that met that ground at what wasn’t a right angle.

The bright-white figure leapt and lighted onto the face. Her claws dug into the gnarls and crags, and she walked up the wall. I lighted and walked after her. My feet held tight to the cliff face, and my wings fluttered at my sides. Yes, climbing clouded next to flying, but it beat walking like an olm beat a glasscrab.

At the top, the gully narrowed enough I had to follow behind Hinte, instead of slinking beside her. I crinkled frills and pouted, but marched on.

Another knot was knitting in my stomach, stinking of anxious dread. I stretched out my wings, and let my alulae trail against the gully walls. Even at the widest parts, my wings could only unfold halfway. Gliding in here would be a trick, then. You’d have to balance gliding in and wrecking your wings with falling in and wrecking your legs.

I waved my tongue. What sort of awful creature awaited us at our destination? Would we have to face down whatever monster had attacked? Would we find we weren’t the only things lured in? They might eat you.

The pressing heat waned and dusty air grew clearer, deigning me the privilege of seeing a dozen strides ahead, instead of six. Still the air was bone-dry, and I licked droplets out of my canteen. Our path wound higher, and at the top the cliff wall rolled above, being a small overhang.

The smell grew stronger than ever. Was this the source?

I licked spicy venom from my fangs.

Hinte slinked forward, close to the ground. The path became a plateau as it wound upward and overlooked a hill rolling down to another, deeper gully. The dark-green wiver walked to very edge of the path, stopping at the ledge.

Standing beside her, I followed her gaze. There, under the ledge, in a flat stretch of the hill dotted with boulders, lay a creature on its back.

The head looked flat, without a snout, and the trunk of the creature looked long, yet stocky. Not as long as a dragon, but the proportions didn’t make it easy to tell. Was it the shoulders? The high placement of the forelegs? The way the hindlegs flowed out from the torso?

Then my eyes cleared. It only had four limbs!

The scales gleamed silver⁠ ⁠—⁠ no, they weren’t scales. Some kind of outfit covered the skin.

My legs were tensed and my claws gripped the ground. I looked behind me, at my escape route.

Hinte’d bared her teeth, and inched forward with clear brilles and fanned frills. Was it dangerous? Before I could ask, she leapt from the ledge, and landed away from the body. Corpse? It didn’t flinch or react at all.

I snapped my tongue at the wiver. What if it had been dangerous? She had called me careless.

I leapt down after her.

One of the creature’s forelegs had three slashes running down its length, and bleeding holes ran in an almost-circle on its outfit⁠ ⁠—⁠ armor?⁠ ⁠—⁠ like something had tried taking a bite out of it. Its blood pooled underneath, draining into the undisturbed, sandy gravel all around it. In the pool lay a bladed weapon, held in a worn, beat-up sheath.

The head lolled as we approached, but it didn’t react beyond that. It looked… familiar. Some creature I’d learned of from my tutors, but never encountered.

“Uh… what is this thing, Hinte?” I asked as I landed in front of her, so as not to spook her. As Hinte glanced at me, I added, “It looks⁠ ⁠—⁠ it looks like some kind of… ape? I’ve never seen one outside of textbooks. Or zoos, maybe.” My tongue wriggled in my mouth, some strange taste tickling the edges.

“Yes,” she said, peering at the blood. “It is an ape. A sentient species. They cannot survive the heat of the Berwem, without our alchemy and preperation. So they stay away. This pitiful creature will expire soon. If it has not already.”

As if in response, the ape gave a cough and a struggled movement. I flinched, but Hinte stepped forward, standing above the ape. Her weight shifted a bit to the side. Then, a claw flew, ripping out the ape’s throat. I jumped, but the knot in my stomach unraveled. It couldn’t do anything now.

“What–what was it doing here?”

“I do not know,” Hinte said, an unbloodied foot falling over the other. “But we will return to town and inform the faer.”

“Why?” I flicked my tongue, glancing at the ape and its pool of blood.

The dark-green wiver peered at me. “Imagine if this were an unmarked sky-dweller instead of a human. Do you see why that would be a problem?”

A frill brushed against my headband. “But that’s different, the sky-dweller probably fell.” I looked again at the pool of blood, then up above us, at the overhang.

“My point flies. Imagine it were a Pteroni, then. What would you think?”

“That they were up to something? Pteroni are drafty,” I said, still peering at the overhang.

“This ape is up to something. Humans are not just exotic creatures. They can war and plot like dragons.”

“Okay,” I said. Then, “Hey, does this pool of blood look off to you?”

Hinte looked to the corpse, tilting her head.

“There’s no blood trail leading anywhere, and the scent trail starts here and doesn’t go anywhere.”

“And there are no footprints leading here.” She looked at me. “You think it fell.”

“I do.” I looked up at the overhang. “Do you think there might be more of them?” Waving my tongue, I added, “I can smell more sweat⁠ ⁠—⁠ and cooked crab meat.”

“Yes. We can fly up and investigate.”

“Um, can you? I can, uh, stay and watch the body.”

Hinte watched me a long moment before humming and saying, “As you wish.” As she said this, she stepped away, her tail unstrapping her bag and lantern, then offering them out to me. “Hold these.”

“Okay,” I said, getting the bag’s strap loose around my neck. “Ow. Why is there so much weight in this?” Holding the bag for one instant was enough to steal all my wondering about why she never flew while looking for stones.

“Emergencies,” she said. “And I can fly just fine with it.”

“If you like going slow, maybe.” I peeked in the bag. “Hey, your canteens are in here.”

“Yes, they are.”

“Well, my canteens are a little empty and I ran out, so uh… can I⁠ ⁠—”

“Yes,” she snapped, already turning around and unfolding her wings. “Do not drink more than half of one.”

She was unfolding her wings to their full extent, only three strides in either direction. After running for a few beats, she flapped her wings, and leapt high. The bright-white figure rose with heavy beats of her wings, looking a silhouette, then a shadow, then a vague hint in the smoky night air. She reached the overhang, and disappeared.