Impulsive was one thing; stupid was another. Amyu was not stupid.

She climbed the rest of that day, up mountain paths as high as she could before searching for a place to sleep. In the fading light she found a place, protected by pine trees and a slight overhang of rock.

There was a small circle of stones under the overhang. There were cold ashes in the center and it clearly had not been used for some time. She made a very small fire, more for comfort than anything else, and sat to sort her supplies out, and think things through.

The small lantern was clever, just a metal cylinder with a door and holes throughout. The curved metal bowl at the bottom could burn wood or maybe even animal fat. There was a small stub of a fat candle; she’d have to conserve that for as long as possible.

She’d need food as well, and dug through the pack to check what she had. Bread, gurt, dried meat. A jar of sweetfat, a whet stone, and dried bloodmoss. A small sack of kavage beans, thank the elements. She’d hunt when she could, and eat lightly.

She untied the leather that sealed the jar, lifted it and sniffed. The sweet scent of Plains grasses filled her lungs. It eased a tightness in her shoulders that she hadn’t been aware of. She tightly sealed it up again, and placed it back in the pack.

Maybe she should establish a base camp? Amyu chewed on her lip, thinking. It would be good to be able to cache food and gear, with a secure place to sleep. But keeping everything with her gave her more freedom to roam further out.

Both ways offered benefits. She’d see what the next day brought, and then decide.

Her sword and dagger were sharp, and the blankets she’d brought would be warm enough. She had a waterskin, and basic cooking gear. Not that hard to spit a small animal over a fire.

She tore off a piece of dried meat, and ate as she packed the rest away. Her small fire flickered as she took a long drink and stared into the flames.

Now, as to her prey. For in truth, that was what she was doing. Stalking prey she had no knowledge of and had never seen.

So she’d treat it as any hunt. Airions were bird and horse in appearance. But all animals leave trails, so there would be droppings, and feathers shed. Claw marks perhaps on trees and stones. Maybe they marked their territory.

And the bird part, it would have to hunt. She closed her eyes and pictured the tapestry in her mind. That beak. As much as it had a horse’s head, that beak meant it was a meat eater. Which meant it was a hunter. It probably hunted from the sky, like a hawk.

Amyu pulled at the meat, and popped another piece in her mouth, chewing slowly.

The trees here were smaller, stunted, not as large as the ones in the valley. Unlikely that the creatures lived in trees, but she couldn’t ignore the possibility. ‘Up’ was something she’d have to remember.

Usek had warned of ‘bears and cats’, so she’d have to watch for predators.

The bigger question? Where to start.

Amyu finished the meat, and took a long drink of water. At least that was no worry; she could hear water running nearby in the quiet of the growing dusk.

A yawn caught her off guard, and a wave of weariness followed. She spread out her blankets, stripped off her leathers and weapons and piled them neatly beside her. Her sword and dagger came into the bedding with her, close at hand.

She settled in, folding her cloak as a pillow. It felt good, the gurtle pads beneath her cushioned the ground and she’d the pleasure of two blankets; the traditional gurtle fur of the Plains, and a warm woolen blanket of Xy. She wiggled about a bit, enjoying the feel of the cloth against her skin as her body heated her bedroll.

The fire flickered down to coals. She watched it with weary eyes.

She probably should do as she was taught, and remain battle ready since she was alone in unknown territory. But she shrugged off the idea. Being as high on the mountain as she was, it was unlikely that an attack would come.

The boys had said that Kalisa always gestured at this path when she told her tales. She would follow it as high as it went, and start there.

It was a hunt, just like any other.

But a wave of joy passed through her, and she grinned at the dying coals. She might be mad, but it was her madness, her truth. She was where she wanted to be.

She drifted off, and dreamed of blue skies and the beating of feathered wings.

 

 

Five days later, she’d lost some of that joy.

Amyu sagged down by her small fire, in another cave she’d found fairly early in the afternoon. The storm clouds had appeared over her head with little warning, another aspect of mountains she didn’t care for. But she’d enough warning to gather firewood and water, and made her small camp in this cave. She’d checked it thoroughly, but it was dry and empty, thank the elements. With plenty of wood, she set out dry, long sticks that would break if stepped on. If anyone or anything approached, she’d have warning.

The rain started before she had the fire going.

She took out beans from her precious stash and ground them for kavage. She’d earned it this day. She set the small pot in the fire, and then stripped off her leathers. The stones were cold under her rump as she examined her leg.

The gouge ran the length of her calf. Not deep, but painful. Amyu took some water and started to wash it clean.

Mountains weren’t flat; no single step was on even ground. Mountains had rocks that moved under your feet, and underbrush that tangled you and blocked your path. Young trees, sticky with sap and rough bark, that you had to make your way around. Old, dead trees with branches that tore through leather and ripped your skin.

And the wind… Amyu lifted her head as the wind picked up outside, moaning and sighing like the dying.

She drew a deep breath, and tried to ignored the sounds. She’d never been this alone before. On the Plains, there were always fellow warriors around, sharing tents and fires. There was little privacy, and one was rarely this alone. This isolated. Even in Xy, in the castle, you might be alone in a room, but there were sounds of others around you.

Here, the silence was what surrounded her. Silence except for the moaning of the wind, which seemed a constant in the mountains.

Amyu shivered, then grimaced as she rinsed her leg. Thanks to the foresight of the Warprize, she had bloodmoss in her pack. It would be a simple thing to heal.

The tear in her leathers was another thing. She’d nothing to repair that with.

Steam rose from the kavage pot. Amyu shifted it a bit deeper into the fire. Kavage would help, with her headache and her mood, and her overall soreness. Everything hurt. Her feet, her ankles, her hands, still sticky with some of that sap, and rough where she’d climbed over rocks.

She’d no luck hunting, and with the rain there’d be no meat for her meal this night. Her supplies were running low. She’d eat the last of the bread and hope for better luck early.

There was game, but the mountain rabbits were fast. The goats she’d seen, balanced on the sheerest of edges, had just looked at her with disdain and climbed impossibly higher.

She’d not thought to bring a bow.

Amyu pulled her leather trous over, and looked at the tear. She could cut strips and rig a sling. Skies knew there were enough rocks around for her to throw. But she didn’t want to widen that tear. Maybe she could sacrifice a strap from her pack.

Amyu shoved the pack away, her headache made all the worse for thinking about making a decision. The golden sparkles at the corners of her eyes glittered brightly. She resisted the urge to rub at the itchiness. That only made it worse.

The kavage was at a rolling boil. She used the edge of her blanket to pick it up, blowing at comforting steam as it rose to her face. The warm, bitter scent was a comfort all by itself.

Because, if truth be told, she needed comfort. She’d seen no sign of airions. Not on land, not in caves, not in the sky. She’d seen scat, and tree scrapings, and feathers, and tufts of fur, but nothing that she could justify calling signs of her prey.

She sipped her kavage, and the liquid stung her tongue. No comfort there, then, or in the truth. Amyu felt her confidence wane as surely as the moon.

She heaved a sigh, set the kavage aside, and dug through her pack to pull out the bloodmoss. See to her wounds, drink her kavage, and then sleep.

The sun would bring another day, and she would start again.

 

 

The crack of a stick outside.

Terror woke her.

Amyu rolled out of the blankets, crouching, her sword and dagger in hand, before she was even fully awake. She froze then, her heart racing.

There was something outside the cave. Something large.

The darkness within the deep cave was absolute. She couldn’t see her hands, her weapons or beyond. She stilled her breathing, straining her senses, listening.

Something shifted, snuffed at the air. Elements, there was more than one.

Her fright got the best of her. She longed to put her back to the cave wall, wherever it was, but she didn’t dare move or give away her position. Her heart thumped hard in her chest, and cold sweat rolled down her spine.

Light. She needed light. But to set her weapons down, to fumble with flint and striker was unthinkable.

Another stick cracked, as if the creatures were gathering themselves up to rush her.

Light, her mind screamed, but she crouched low, frozen in fear.

Small golden sparkles started to gather at her feet.

Sweat dripped into her eyes as she watched, seeing a narrow bit of glow that darted out, in a long line. It fled across the floor and encircled the lantern.

Something deep within her cried out in silent relief, as the motes flowed and flowed into the lantern. She could see her hands, see the blades, see—

One of the creatures snorted, drawing her attention back to the entrance. Deep, deep breaths, getting her scent.

Amyu’s heart leaped to her throat; she swallowed hard even as she braced herself.

The glow brightened, filling the lantern to overflowing, boiling up and—

With a roar, the animal charged within. Amyu caught a glimpse of small, cruel eyes, and lips pulled back along its long snout, white fangs flashing.

She brought her blade up, screaming her own defiance and anger and rage—

The lantern exploded, hurling her back, the glare blinding her—

When her vision cleared, there was nothing to be seen of the creature. The entire cave seemed to faintly glow gold.

Amyu just lay sprawled on the floor, trying to breathe, trying to understand. It seemed forever before she could get herself to move, before she finally gathered her legs under her and rose, breathing like a spent horse, her heart pounding. Cold sweat dripped down her spine.

The lantern lay on the stone, its sides bulged out, its little metal door broken off one of the hinges. With a trembling hand, she reached out to right it, and it wobbled where it sat.

Her sword was close, and her hand shook as she gripped it.

The glow of the walls started to fade, ebbing slightly and then more as she watched.

She dropped down by her fire pit, and took up the flint and steel, setting the tinder on fire. Just as well. The glow was gone now.

There was no sound of the creature, but for the life of her she couldn’t bring herself to go outside.

Still trembling, she wrapped herself in her cloak and blankets, weapons close. She sat and fed the fire until the first faint light of dawn touched the mouth of the cave. The birds started chirping. She could hear the rustling of small animals in the undergrowth.

But it was still a long time before her fear allowed her to move.

 

 

On the eve of the tenth day, Amyu stripped down and crawled under her blankets. She was aching and weary, and just wanted the feel of the gurtle blanket against her skin for this night.

She settled in, lying on her stomach, her arms as her pillows.

This cave was different than the others, at the head of a stream, with ledges on either side. She’d placed her bedroll close to the wall, and built her fire close by.

The fire was dying now, the flames fading into glowing coals. She’d built a small one just to warm her kavage, and give light for her meal. She’d learned the hard way to feed the fire all night. There’d been no other attacks, but she’d take no chances.

She put her head down, determined to keep her thoughts at bay, determined not to think about what lay ahead. She was warm, safe, and… she’d failed.

She twisted around then, struggling with the blankets, and finally laid on her back with a huff. ‘A warrior faces the truth’, she whispered to the rock over her head, barely glimpsed in the dying light.

The rock was silent and still, as if listening.

“I’ve plenty of water,” she said aloud, and her voice echoed back. “I’ve flint and steel and tinder, enough to search a while longer. My gear is in good shape, and the weather seems to be holding.”

The rock expressed no opinion.

“It’s food,” she admitted, more to herself than the rock. “The hunting here is sparse. I’ve had no luck, and my supplies are gone.”

The rock stayed silent, waiting.

“And here is the truth,” she spoke slowly, softly. “I don’t think they are here.” She swallowed hard, and felt her tears start. “Airions are myths, creatures of dreams. They don’t exist.”

The rock absorbed her whispered words.

“I’ve failed,” she said, and saying it out loud made the pain of her admission that much worse. “In the morning, I’ll break camp and head back down the mountain to Xy. Tell them all my truths. Ask if they will let me return.”

She closed her eyes as the knot in her stomach grew. She wrestled back over onto her stomach, tugging the blankets this way and that, thoroughly frustrated, angry, tired, and scared.

She put her head down on her arms, and gave into the fear. Fear that the Warprize would reject her, that she’d be without a Tribe, without a people, without a purpose.

The flickering coals reflected on her dagger’s blade, placed by her side with her sword.

There was always the choice of going to the snows.

But even in the instant she had the thought, she rejected it. Her life had meaning, and she’d not spill it here on cold stone to no purpose except to end her pain. Her death could have other uses, and she’d make it a good one.

The coals shifted, and she fed more wood to them. Once the fire was bright, she closed her eyes. She’d head down tomorrow, and face whatever awaited her there.

Warriors did not weep. There was no one to see, no one to comment, but still she resolved not to cry.

Later, much later, while the wind set the trees to swaying and whispering, she eventually not-cried herself to sleep.

In the morning, she used the cold water to bathe and scrub the dried tears from her face.

It had been a foolish dream; a child’s dream. She’d no knowledge of the land or how to survive on her own here. She was lucky to have lived this long, and she was fairly certain she’d be reminded of that fact over and over.

At least she had tried. But that was cold comfort at best.

She filled the waterskin, rolled up the blankets, and packed her meager gear. It had taken her some time to come this high, but she’d been searching as she went. Going down would be fast, but she’d have to take care not to fall. She’d hunt as she went, that would help with the growling in her stomach.

She stepped out to find the sky above clear and blue in its beauty. The recent rains had caused the greens to seem greener somehow. She tried to appreciate what the elements had provided, but her failure sat in the hollow of her chest.

Best to be about it.

She stepped out on the path and the wind died down, leaving everything quiet and still. Even the birds seemed to—

A soft sound floated through the air. Someone singing.

Amyu frowned. The wind playing tricks again was her first thought, even as she turned in that direction. It wasn’t possible, but—

A flutter of white caught the corner of her eye, and she focused, looking further up on the mountain. There, above her. There was a darkness, clearly the mouth of a cave.

The wind picked up, and there was a brief flutter of white again.

Amyu bit her lip. A bird? Or perhaps… feathers?

She should go down. There were no airions; she was on a fool’s quest.

But what harm in one last cave? It wouldn’t take more than an hour to climb up, and the delay would only come at the cost of her empty stomach.

She paused, holding her breath, listening hard.

There it was again.

The merest whisper of a song.