So began the new routine for Sadrahan as the strength of the others was restored by good food and rest. They would forage below for fruits, vegetables, or use ambush tactics to hunt for prey such as deer or bear, while Sadrahan would search for escapees.

After three days, it was a regular sight for those who walked below to see him flying above with two or more carried under his arms or on his back to disappear into the mountain stronghold where the young would provide food and answer questions.

And with every rescue, Sadrahan’s reputation grew, but more than that…

‘I’m getting stronger.’ He realized, carrying the weakened survivors, he flew farther every day, and consequently, flew farther back, holding them for longer and longer with fewer rest periods.

His muscled arms now surged to twice the size of any of the others, and the muscles on his back bulged from carrying back those survivors that he came across.

Until there were no survivors.

He spied a demon lying on the ground, and dropped down to the grass with a heavy thud, but before he even hit the ground he could see for himself, ‘It’s too late for this one.’ He crouched down over the corpse, the wings were cut like all the others, the protective flaps seared shut like branded cattle, and the body riddled with scars over his red flesh, both horns broken off, and the body torn apart by beasts. Gaping wounds lay open and the grass beneath it was still stained from where he fell. The victim was a male of middle years and must have once been an impressive specimen of his kind.

What was left of him was less so. “Damn.” Sadrahan said, the demon had fallen on his back, his eyes were gone, reduced to black empty orbs, and the jaw had fallen open in a silent scream to the heavens as if he’d died begging the sky to take him to safety while trapped on the ground below.

Sadrahan hefted the corpse, and flew it back toward his mountain home, when he reached it, he descended in slow circles toward what would become a farm when the land was finally cleared away, as a half a dozen demons were doing.

When they saw him descend with the corpse, Liln cried out and rushed to it. “Uncle!” She wailed, and held out her arms to take the limp body into her grip.

“I’m sorry. He was dead when I found him.” Sadrahan said and after taking a deep breath he said, “I don’t think I’ll be finding many more survivors. No.” He stopped himself and shook his head, “I don’t believe there are any more survivors. I’ve ranged out far enough that I’ve seen the cookfires of human villages and ‘forts’ in the distance. Anyone not here now, is dead or fled far, far away in the opposite direction.”

Liln pressed her horns to the broken ones of the corpse and wet the body with her bloody tears, “They have to pay for this.” She grimaced and a low growl came from deep within her throat, “They have to! They think they can do whatever they want, and we can do nothing?! No. No. No.” She shook her head and raised her head to Sadrahan, whether she heard anything he said or not, he wasn’t sure.

“You hunt the humans soon?” She asked him.

“I will scout them today, finding the big hole shouldn’t be hard. After that? I will rescue some of our own. It may be that I will have to kill humans to do it.” Sadrahan admitted. His red face darkened deeper than old blood, “I hope so.” He added, recalling the roof that fell in on his wife and the village he lost.

“You lost your wife to the humans?” Liln asked, looking up at the dark haired Sadrahan.

“I did.” Answering her rhetorical question.

“It is not good for a demon to be without a companion. Avenge my village, and I will be at your side in all things.” Liln offered, her eyes blurred by the blood that welled up in them, she couldn’t see his face despite him being right in front of her.

Sadrahan was neither surprised, nor pleased, nor displeased by her offer. Already some of those who he’d rescued were pairing off and preparing to start over. The hard life of a farmer required many hands, and it was a practical, no nonsense affair for his people to bond quickly, though few were passionate about it. He knew enough of the lives of his fellow villagers to know his and his late wife’s passionate affection for one another was uncommon.

“I must refuse.” He said, and Liln blinked her dark red eyes clear, he put a hand on her shoulder and said, “I want no other but the one taken from me. What was lost can never be replaced. I will avenge our villages and rescue what I can, but I will never bond again.”

Liln sniffled a little, a fragile smile on her face, “I never thought I would be refused, but if I were going to be, it makes sense that it was by one such as you.”

His hand came up and wiped away a stray bloody tear with the back of his foreclaw, “Bury your uncle in the field, good food will grow there. The dead will make our fields rich. Have what service your village rituals require, I’m going to check on my daughter, it is time to feed her, then I will go out again.”

“As our Lord wills it.” Liln said, and Sadrahan stopped in midstep as he walked away.

“Our what?” He asked.

Liln was quick to explain, her eyes sparked like fire, heated enough that for just a moment, Sadrahan was reminded of the passionate eyes of his late Lamash. “Humans had chiefs, but they also had chiefs over chiefs who ruled many forts and villages, those chiefs were called ‘lords’. You have the demons of a dozen villages now, and when we have made our walk and back, you may have a dozen more. You will not be a chief then, you will be our chief of chiefs, our headman of headmen. You will be our Lord.”

“There are older demons than I among us.” He pointed out.

“But none of them brought us to safety. None of them fed us. We are in agreement. You are to be our Lord.” Liln retorted, and Sadrahan, seeing the stubbornness in her eyes, only nodded.

“So be it.” Sadrahan grunted, and then went to feed his daughter.