Standing at the edge of the village where the mud met the snow and bushes, Dyana peered apprehensively toward the northern horizon. The entire tribe had fallen silent, despite the chaos of the previous hour and the appearance of the god, and they all listened and wondered together what that drumming sound might be.

Only Pepper moved. The little cat-boy had spotted the flying daylight star, which flew in from the same direction, and was beside himself. He leaped and shouted with such desperate, exuberant joy that Dyana’s heart broke for him. “Wolfscar! It’s Wolfscar!” he kept shouting.

Before the fairy even got there, the excitement grew too much for him. The poor boy’s emotions overran and he started crying openly, looking terribly embarrassed but unable to stop. “Wolfscar!” he shouted regardless, waving his arms.

As expected, the fairy came in at top speed, plummeting in from the sky faster than a diving hawk. He did his best to slow down, but still slammed into Pepper’s bare chest with an audible smack. Pepper shouted for joy through his sobs and then struggled to breathe. He hugged the tiny flying boy so tightly that Dyana started to wonder if she should intervene. Did Wolfscar breathe? When he’d sat between her breasts, she hadn’t noticed or even thought about it. Of course he did, though. Everything breathed.

Dyana felt a brush of air and looked down to see Sheth darting past her. He jumped squarely onto Pepper and bowled him over, causing Pepper’s weeping to turn instantly to laughter, so suddenly and thoroughly Dyana wondered if he’d been trying to do both at the same time just now. The two little boys rolled together in the mud, taking turns kissing Wolfscar on the top of his head and holding him tightly in their hands.

She saw a spot of blood. “Hey, Pepper, stop that! Get up, you’re tearing out your stitches! Pepper!”

Dyana quickly stepped over and pulled him up by the armpits, scowling at the injury that ran shoulder to shoulder. He’d torn it a little and it was starting to drip. “Stand up, you two! Alright, stay here. I’ll be right back with some water. We have to wash that off and it might need to be re-sewn in a couple spots. And hello, Wolfscar. It’s good to see you. Can you keep them out of trouble for a minute?”

“Hello, Dyana!” the tiny blue boy cheerfully squeaked. “Why does Pepper not have a shirt on? It’s cold.”

“I’ll tell you in a minute.” Dyana left them and went to find a pot to fill with water. The first tent she tried had a good one, so she grabbed it and headed toward the frigid little stream that ran eastward alongside the tent village. On the way, that drumming sound reverberated in the ground, filling her bones more than her ears with its rhythm. The rhythm was long, she realized. It was a long pace, far longer than her legs could match. What by the blackest ocean spirit could it be? ‘I want you to save them from that’, the god had said. Was ‘that’ just one thing? She’d assumed an army, but…

A chill went through her that had nothing to do with the gentle, early-spring breeze that was starting to pick up. She hurried to the stream and filled the pot, then raced back to find that most of the Night People had turned their attention to Wolfscar, who was flying around about a foot over everyone’s heads, looking at each person and greeting some with a wave, particularly the children. He tried speaking to two little girls that Dyana didn’t know, and when they didn’t reply, he shrugged and moved on.

She found the elder right where she’d left him and asked, “Natuak, do you still have that needle?”

“Where would I have put it between then and now, girl?”

“That was a yes or no question, you old goat. Come see if Pepper’s stitches need fixing.”

“I am sure they do.”

“Then fix them. And we need to talk.”

“Are you in charge now, girl?” said the old demon, his watery eyes fixing on her with a challenge that was more spite than challenge.

“Are you?” she spat. The emptiness in his eyes annoyed her. He was supposed to be the father of the tribe and should act the part.

He stared at her, a series of subtle emotions passing through his eyes. Resignation. Confusion. Anger. How much of that was real, she wondered? She felt like she hardly knew him. The stern, careful, considerate old man she thought he’d been now seemed completely gone. Had that been the real Natuak? Or was this man the real one? Just a tired old man in extremity, losing himself and his people. Frankly, she didn’t care. He had been no friend to her.

Still, her bosom must have contained a least a little bit of pity because she found herself saying, “The god just promised to make you his people. He said to find his priestess. That means you and your tribe have a task to do. Do the Night People still have an elder, or are you just an old steer?”

Wolfscar, popping up about a foot from her ear, said, “You belong to Palthos? They belong to Palthos, Dyana? Why doesn’t Pepper have a shirt? What happened to his back? Who killed those people? Did you get in a fight with them? The god was here, wasn’t he? He leaves lots of… things, so I know he was.”

“I’m busy right now, so Natuak here will answer all your questions. You know him, right? You’ve met?”

Wolfscar turned his gaze onto the old man and seemed to size him up. “We’ve met,” he said, crossly.

It appeared that neither Wolfscar nor Natuak wanted to have that conversation. Maybe she should stay and listen, just for the humor of it. Conversations with Wolfscar were a mess at the best of times, but trying to be diplomatic while explaining something complicated to him? If Natuak could pull that off, he still deserved to be Elder.

She said, “Good. Natuak is going to fix Pepper’s stitches. I got some fresh water for him to use. Then he’ll explain everything that’s going on.”

“Okay. Dyana, guess what? Papa is coming this way to get Pepper. And Mama and Garbi and Ashe and Poppy. You haven’t met them yet. Ashe and Poppy. But they’re Garbi’s because she’s the princess.”

That was good to know. He really was coming. She was going to have to decide pretty quick whether she wanted to be here when Androkles arrived, but not yet. And rather than get into a hopeless conversation about time and distances, she changed the subject. “Wolfscar, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“What’s making that drumming sound? You flew right over it, right? Did you see what it was? Palthos wants me to save the Night People from whatever it is.”

“Oh… Oh. It’s…” He quieted down and listened. “You can hear that? Can you see them? Dyana, did you see any, um, any things that are real? No, I mean, wait. Did you see any things like an ogre? Or a monster?”

“No, but the tribe was attacked by evil spirits right before you got here. I think Palthos must have sent them away.”

“Oh, oh, oh, no, they’re still here. They just have to be quiet now. Except the one by Pepper. But that one is, um, I think that one is a nice one. He has clothes on like Papa’s people wear. And I don’t mean them. I mean things that can touch you. Things that are real. Did you see any of those?” The little fairy seemed to grow more and more agitated and concerned with each sentence. He was fidgeting nervously and wobbling unsteadily in the air.

“No. Elder?”

Natuak shook his head. “I do not know what you mean, little Wolfscar, but I think that if I had seen such a thing, I would. I have seen no such thing, nor heard of any.”

“Okay, well, that’s good because they’re bad things that the King is sending. He used up lots of the stuff that came out of… well, it doesn’t matter. But he made lots of, um, touchable things come out and sent them to go kill people. And I think he sent those quiet spirits because some of his faces are here. But if any come, then you have to fight them, okay, Dyana?”

Of course she had no idea what he meant, but fighting was always a thing she was ready for. “I can do that. But what’s making the noise, Wolfscar? That’s the thing I’m worried about.”

The fairy fell still and thought, a look of dread on his face. “It’s a really big one. So, so big. Too big. But they’re not the kind you’re supposed to be able to see. So you shouldn’t be able to hear it. The King must have made him come because I said hello to him and he didn’t even say it back! Can you believe that? I even think I know him, from before when I was old. He should know who I am! All the others do, even if I forgot. But he’s…”

Dyana asked, “He’s what?”

Wolfscar fell silent again, and his eyes got wider and wider as he thought. He muttered to himself, his lips moving in the shape of words as he stuck a fingertip in his front teeth to chew on. He turned to Natuak and said, “Are you the papa of the people? Are you in charge? I think that everyone should leave before he gets here.”

Natuak considered the tiny flying boy, gazing at him carefully with all the weight and seriousness of great age. “How long do we have?”

Wolfscar thought for a moment, then held his hands out to measure about two inches. “That far.”

Wait, did he…? Dyana stepped closer to look again, and sure enough, Wolfscar was missing his left hand, severed at the wrist. Horror stole all her other thoughts. Her heart pounded so suddenly against her ribs she could barely speak. “Wolfscar, what happened to your hand?” she spluttered.

The fairy turned to her, then held up his wrist nub and looked at it. “Oh, this? It’s almost grown back. It’ll be back to normal soon. Don’t worry about it, Dyana.”

Pepper stepped in front of her looked as well. “Wolfscar, what happened? Did you get in a fight?” He held his hand out, then let it drop, as if he was worried he’d damage Wolfscar further by touching him. He even folded his ears down against his head, poor thing.

“I just said! Stop asking me! Stop looking at it!” said Wolfscar, hiding the stump in his armpit and scowling.

Sheth was looking away, holding still and trying not to look incredibly guilty. Dyana had no idea what to make of that.

Unless… Sheth’s teeth were awfully sharp, and Wolfscar’s cry of pain the last time she saw him had been more than her heart could bear. Poor Sheth’s recovery had been miraculous, right after that. Could he have… no, that was impossible.

Or was it? No, it was too horrible to even imagine. Sweet little Sheth biting off Wolfscar’s hand? But then, Wolfscar saw things no one else could. He’d just said so—spirits of the dead, and other more mysterious things. So could Sheth, and his eye glowed the same color as Wolfscar.

Oh, spirits, how awful! Despite trying not to, she imagined it, then couldn’t get the picture out of her head. It made her sick.

Sheth was worth a hand, though, if it had been a willing sacrifice. And it must have been or Wolfscar wouldn’t have been so happy to see him. And the promise Sheth made, never to talk about it. What a noble little thing, that darling fairy! No wonder everyone loved him.

“Wolfscar, quickly, how long is it in time, not distance?” asked Natuak, holding his fingers apart, the same length as Wolfscar’s demonstration a moment before.

Grinning sheepishly, Pepper said, “He doesn’t know how to tell you. He does this to Papa all the time. But if we can hear it, it’s probably close, right?”

Natuak sighed. His shoulders sagged wearily and all the dark-blue skin on his face seemed to droop with age. Even the tips of his ears wilted a little. He turned without saying anything else to them and started passing the word around for everyone to go pack up, which they seemed pretty hesitant about, and Dyana couldn’t blame them.

Her tribe had moved twice a year and it had been a massive undertaking every time. It was the worst part of her childhood, certainly, until the day the army came for them. There was so much stuff! Things you never think about, like the latrine shovels and the tent pegs and the damaged fishnets waiting for repair, and all of it had to be packed up somehow to carry, either by a beast or a person, and then all the walking, carrying all that stuff! She’d hated it.

She had no inclination to help them now. It was all their stuff, not hers. “Natuak, come back here and fix Pepper’s stitches before you forget, please,” she called to him. He gave his people one last imploring look-over, and when he was satisfied they were moving, he came back. “I’m going to go see what that noise is and why Wolfscar is so nervous. The god wants me to stop it, whatever it is. Wolfscar, will you keep little Pepper company? He’s had a rough morning. He could probably use another kiss.”

Pepper knelt on the ground, and now that it was imminent, his face grew taut, indicating how happy he was to be getting poked at again. Sheth sat in front of him and held his hand, and Wolfscar rested on Sheth’s head. Natuak began cleaning the stitches with the water Dyana brought, and it looked like the Night People were getting more serious about packing up to go.

That was it, then. Time to go fight Wolfscar’s ‘big one.’ As she was turning to go, Pepper called out, “Come back safe, Dyana.” His voice sounded weak and unsure, and she knew it was because he was still hesitant about her.

The little wave of guilt that passed through her turned her around and she marched right over and kissed his bloody hair right between his ears. “I will. And Wolfscar, keep Pepper out of trouble, okay?”

“Okay, Dyana. Where are you going?” said the tiny fairy.

“Palthos wants me to stop that thing you saw, the big one. I’ll be right back,” she said.

“Oh. Well, that’s a bad idea. I don’t think you can stop him. You should run away,” said Wolfscar. “Goodbye!”

Thanks for that, you little rodent, she thought. She turned again to leave, and this time left at full speed, sending power to her legs to launch her forward a dozen paces with her first step. She heard a few very satisfying gasps behind her, and then she was gone. She raced out of the village, wondering how much of it would still be up when she got back.

Northward she ran, racing so fast it was hard to keep her eyes open in the wind. Each step was in a slightly different direction as she flew past trees or rocks, up and down inclines, over bushes. It took all of her concentration, but there was something about it that she always loved. Only she could do this, as far as she knew, among all the world. Father had said there were still a few disciples of the Great Old Ones around besides him, but she’d never heard rumor of any and he was dead. She might be the last.

The trees opened suddenly into a dusty meadow with poor soil and tangled weeds, and she skidded to a halt as her mind tried to process what her eyes were telling her. Only vague impressions first, which slowly resolved into details.

He was outrageous. Immense. A moving mountain. He must still be two miles away, but she could already tell she would only reach his ankle. He marched slowly uphill in her direction, moving a dozen paces at each step. The dense trees and the angle of the land had hidden him until this moment, but he was hidden no longer.

Matted, dark, dirty hair covered much of him, almost thick enough to hide his brownish-gray skin. He was otherwise naked; if he’d been normal size, he would look just like a filthy cave hermit. His eyes gleamed out from the black, tangled mess of his hair, catching the sun to burn with a fiery light she doubted she was imagining. He trailed a thin mist or smoke behind him as he walked that swirled in the winds he caused by simply moving.

A mountain had risen and walked. A man, triple the height of the tallest trees. Dyana gaped, frozen in place. Her mind kept telling her it was just a shadow, or something much closer. She had to really look at him to see anything at all, and even doing that, her eyes went in and out of focus.

Stop that thing?! she thought. The god must be insane. No matter how tough her skin was to blades and punches, she wouldn’t survive being stepped on by something that weighed a million measures of sand. Ten million. How do you kill something like that? Or even stop it?

She took a step forward, with no idea why or what to do. She had to stop him, though. A giant bigger than the stories of the great spirits of the Deep. She took another step and felt her muscles tremble in fear. She was so scared of him it didn’t even register in her mind, she realized; just her body, which knew.

He paused and the booming sounds of his steps ceased to rumble through the ground. He lifted his nose and smelled the wind, carefully, in several directions, turning his body as he did. Dyana couldn’t see his feet, but she was sure he was leaving footprints larger than cattle troughs, and probably deeper. If things like him existed, why weren’t there footprints everywhere?

The giant caught whatever scent he was looking for on the wind and snapped his head back in the direction of the Night People village, and Dyana. He sniffed once, twice, and a wide grin stretched across his dirty, bearded face. His teeth were dark enough in color that Dyana couldn’t tell them from his gums, at least at this distance.

He began walking again, taking longer, quicker strides, with more purpose and direction in his gait. As he passed a tree, an ancient, sturdy thing with pale gray bark, he tore it effortlessly from the ground with one hand. He began stripping the branches from it to make a club as he went along.

Just a few miles, and at this pace, that meant minutes. Mere minutes until he reached her. Dyana’s heart pounded in her chest so hard she retied the cloth over her breasts, just because it felt like it might come off. Her hands trembled and her stiff fingers could barely handle even such a big, rough knot.

“He has a tree, Dyana. What are you going to use?” said a child’s voice in her ear. She screamed and nearly fell forward as she struggled to turn and who was there, but there was no one. It had startled her so badly she wanted to cry, but it had been… It must have been Palthos. She thought she could almost hear him laughing at her, but straining at the sound, it was a far-off flock of birds.

No wonder Androkles called the gods bastards, she thought. But then a thought occurred to her and she quickly tried to figure out how large the giant really was in ratio to her. Measuring with her finger, if she came up near his ankles, then her arm would be about this long on him, and that would mean… That would mean she’d have a hard time reaching his brain through his nose or eye and had no chance of attacking his heart or lungs.

She needed a weapon, and blast that god for startling her. It would have to be short enough to carry on a strap over her shoulder, or maybe tie across her back with her chest cloth. She needed her hands free to climb high enough to do some damage. A short spear or sword would do the trick. And while she was at it, the Night People really, really needed to get out of there.

Running back felt much, much faster than running out there had been. She could feel him behind her, as if he was breathing on her neck from only a few paces behind. Even racing so fast all she could hear was the wind, she felt some of his footsteps thundering up from the ground and shaking her bones. Or she imagined it; she couldn’t tell.

To their credit, the Night People had already led their few horses out into the camp and pulled out far more hand-carts than she remembered seeing stored anywhere. Everyone was out and busy, walking more quickly than usual. Some of the tents had already been pulled down and the area was already starting to feel abandoned, even though everyone was still here.

She ran at a normal pace through the village, lest she see a knee-high too late to stop and crush her like a boulder, and she found Natuak where she’d left him, fixing up Pepper’s stitches. Wolfscar sat on the boy’s head, holding on to his ears and whispering into them, in between Pepper’s cries of pain.

“Elder!” she shouted, out of breath. She put her hands on her knees, even though she shouldn’t waste any time resting. But she could relax for just a moment, just until the grip of fear squeezing her mind and chest relaxed. She stood again and panted, “I need a sword or short spear!”

It took him time to react. He regarded her for only a moment before he left the needle dangling on a thread from Pepper’s cut and asked, “How long do you need?”

“Just three or four feet. Nothing long.” Her sense of haste was edging at the corners of her vision and narrowing her sight. Her heart wouldn’t quit beating hard.

Natuak glanced around half-heartedly and didn’t see anything handy. He turned back to Pepper’s stitches and said, “There are plenty of spears. Go find one and bring it to me.”

Right, of course, she thought to herself. She raced around the nearby tents, looking for anything long enough to be a spear. She kept finding piles of tent poles, just as long and thin as spears. They distracted her, kept her from looking. They were in her way! By the spirits, why was everyone putting these…! Ah, there’s one.

She snatched it, a long spear with a thin metal point fastened on by wound leather, and took it back to Natuak. “I found one,” she declared.

The elder left the needle to dangle for the second time and took the knife from his belt, the same one he’d used to kill Farat, and with a quick slicing motion, cut the spear shaft in half. He handed it to her and said, “Anything else?”

Her mind took a moment to realize what she’d just seen. Had he just cut a spear haft in half with a belt knife? In one stroke? He must be stronger than he looked. A lot stronger. How odd.

“Dyana, is there anything else?” he asked again, his voice still flat and emotionless.

“Sorry, I… Yes. You don’t have time to pack everything up nice. You have, oh, maybe twenty minutes? Maybe just a bit longer? I’ll try and slow it down, well, I’ll try and kill it, but if it gets here, a lot of people are going to die. Wolfscar, can you lead them away?” Spirits, was she babbling? She couldn’t get a hold on her tongue.

Wolfscar stood and turned around on Pepper’s head. He said, “Oh, well, Dyana, I think you shouldn’t fight him. He’s not, he’s, he’s too big. That spear isn’t long enough.”

“Can you lead them away?” she asked the fairy.

“Yes.”

“Good. Do.” Dyana forced a smile she didn’t feel, just to seem less aggressive than she felt. She tucked the short-spear on her back, hoping her chest-cloth would be enough to hold it in place while she ran, climbed, and fought. It slipped right out and she just about kicked it away trying to stop it with her feet.

It was at that moment she realized just how terrified she was. Truly, truly terrified to the bone. Terror clouded her thoughts; she could hardly even bring the giant back in her memory before her mind reeled and tried to look elsewhere. Her legs felt like sacks of water. Her torso was constricted and full of snakes, squeezing and slithering and stealing her breath.

Natuak wordlessly picked up the spear and untied her chest-cloth, then retied it with the spear in the middle of the knot. It only took him a moment. The ancient demon had as sure a hand as any net-mender. It left her feeling vulnerable, as helpless and exposed as a wet chick just breaking out of its shell. Her tribe had never covered their breasts, men or women, and why should they? But the Night People did, and it bothered them if she went bare, and that made her self-conscious.

The terror in her aggravated everything else she was feeling instead of drowning it out. Her face reddened from the shame of even that brief moment’s exposure, and his rough, knobbly old hands brushing against the skin of her back. It was as if she’d rather do or think or feel anything at all other than what she had to. What was coming.

Natuak said, “It should hold.” He knelt again and resumed mending the last few of Pepper’s stitches.

There was a moment of silence. Dyana couldn’t move.

“I’m scared,” she whispered. Terror raced all up and down her, shaking her like thunder. Her hands wanted to tremble. She made fists.

Natuak didn’t respond. He had work to do. That made sense. It still angered her, though. Anger instead of fear. It didn’t hold for long.

She heard screams and turned around. The giant’s mess of tangled, wild hair was just visible now above the lowest parts of the treeline and the Night People had spotted it. They didn’t know what it was, she was sure; they just knew something immense was coming, and she was supposed to be fighting it. And everyone could hear, no, feel, its steps reverberating in their bones like the gods’ grandest drum.

The giant was still far away, perhaps a mile? Something like that? Dyana tried to get her feet to move, to carry her toward the fight and her destiny.

Natuak carried on and fixed the last couple of Pepper’s stitches, uncaring or oblivious. Pepper’s ears twitched impatiently and he even forgot to hiss in pain at the last few pokes, but soon enough the stitches were repaired, or at least as good as they were going to get for now. Dyana still hadn’t moved.

The giant jumped. She wasn’t watching him, but she heard the steps pause followed by a giant crashing boom. She turned around just as he did it again, leaping up to get a better view. His eyes found the camp. Everyone saw then what was coming their way. They froze. Many screamed.

With Natuak done with him, Pepper rose to his feet and stood at her side, shirtless and still bloody. He said, “I’ll come, Dyana. I can fight it.”

She looked down at him. The black-haired cat boy’s skinny shoulders were squared against the horizon. He stood tall, his tail resting calmly behind him.

More than anything, Dyana felt mad about that. Perhaps she should feel shamed, after seeing him show the courage she lacked. Or maybe encouraged, but she wasn’t. It just made her angry and she couldn’t even explain why. Almost angry enough to stomp, and the worst of it was that she knew he was just being the sweet, brave little boy he’d always been. He didn’t mean to offend her, so she couldn’t yell at him. And what would she even say?

She was being foolish again. She was trying to find another thing to think about, anything but the giant drawing closer with each reverberating step. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Once she was sure she could keep the unhealthy emotion out of her voice, she said, “You’ll do no such thing, you silly kitten. What are you going to do, poke its toes with a stick?”

“I can get the horn back from… from Kema,” said Pepper, flicking the end of his tail in annoyance. He acted like she was ruining his moment to show his good character.

Okay, she was, a little bit. “I know you would try, Pepper. You’re a brave little boy.”

“I just want to be Papa’s son.”

“That’s not something you have to work at, Pepper. You either are or you aren’t, and he said you are, so that’s that. He hasn’t been spending all this time trying to decide if he still wanted you, has he? Wolfscar, what did Androkles say about finding Pepper? Anything?”

The tiny blue boy looked up at her from his perch on Pepper’s head. He thought about it for a moment, then said, “Papa always said about coming to get him. He told me to keep looking for him every time. And he told Flower and Mama a bunch of times that we’re coming to get him.”

Sounding slightly annoyed, Pepper said, “I know, Dyana. You don’t have to explain it to me. I was just saying.”

She almost chuckled at that. Little Pepper must think he was growing up. How old was he, ten? Was he ten yet? He was strong, though, in body and spirit. Androkles had found a good one. No wonder that great beast of a man wanted to keep him.

Dyana said, “Of course, Pepper. Androkles will be more proud of you than you know, once he hears what you’ve been up to. And that’s me ‘just saying’, so shut it. But it’s about time someone protected you, don’t you think? So stay here and let me.” She lifted Wolfscar from Pepper’s head and kissed both little boys’ heads between their pointy ears, then put him back.

And that was that. She had to go fight it now. Her terror hadn’t abated or even dimmed much, but there’d be no backing down after that.

She ran, leaving behind the growing chaos of the panicking Night People, and charged at full speed toward the giant.

Dyana knew she should be planning, since all she had for a plan so far was ‘climb up him and stab where it hurts’, but all she could think about was the people behind her—Seffy, Pepper, all the Night People. There’d be no hope for them if the giant made it past her. She doubted any of them could outrun something that could cross the whole village in two or three steps.

She heard the cracking trees even over the sound of rushing wind in her ears, and she knew she was close. A crash of splinters and broken wood flew across her vision and she slid to a halt. The giant was swinging his club, smashing his way clear as he went. She was less than ten paces from his left foot.

Just his big toe was so immense that she couldn’t see over it. The tallest pines only reached partway up his thighs. His feet were bigger than houses, his legs thicker than grain mills. His bulk covered the sky and hid the sun like a stormcloud. From underneath she saw so little of him that he became an endless wall of rough gray-brown skin and black hairs, each strand a little longer than her arm and as thick as a finger.

If she didn’t move now, she never would. Dyana ripped the spear off her back and the cloth came with it. Natuak had tied them together too well. No time to re-tie it, she cast the cloth aside, hoping she wouldn’t discover a need for it halfway up the giant.

Then she leapt atop his foot and drove the point of the spear deep into the tender skin between his toes.

The giant howled, a sound so deep she felt it more than heard it. It was more of a rumble of thunder than the cry of a voice, but it was so loud it shook the air in her lungs. Both her eardrums burst. The world receded as she lost her hearing.

Dyana had no time to recover from the fierce ache of her ears—the giant raised his foot to shake her off. She jumped on to his shin and gripped the hair, which felt more like greasy bark than rope. When the giant’s leg started shaking, it did so with far more violence than she anticipated, yanking her dozens of feet in every direction each time. Her feet flung wildly in the air each time he changed the direction and she nearly lost her hold, but he gave up before she let go.

She had only a moment to race around behind his calf before his hand crashed down to crush her. The impact of it shook the leaves in nearby trees. Even through the giant’s leg, its force slammed into her, leaving her feeling like she’d fallen flat on her back. But she was safe.

Dyana was still alive. She’d taken first blood and endured two of his attacks. The giant might be so large she could hardly believe he was a living thing, but she was surviving. She could do this.

New-found courage dripped warmly into her veins and started replacing icy terror. She began climbing up the back of the giant’s leg, racing upward like a monkey chased up a tree by a tiger. It was no easy matter; the giant’s knee was probably fifty feet off the ground and she hadn’t reached it yet.

The smell of salt and dirt filled her nostrils. She felt her body getting slippery with the grease of his skin, causing her to expend great effort on her grip.

Twice more he tried to swat her, and each time she got around to the other side of his leg just in time. Only his immense size saved her; his slaps had to cover so much distance that he couldn’t swing them fast enough to catch her, no matter how strong he was.

Upward she went, ten more feet, then twenty. He gave up slapping and simply tried to grab her. She braced herself with one hand and all her toes and stabbed him right in the center of the palm with the spear. The skin of his hands was thick and rough and she barely punctured it, but it was enough to make him shake it like he’d been stung by a bee.

Deep rumblings in her bones told him he had howled again, but she heard nothing. Her heart quailed a bit at that, but she pushed the thought away. She did not dare think she might be deaf forever, not now, not here.

A swell of anger drove the spear-point over and over into the skin of his upper calf. Let him be the one to worry! What business did he have, coming to smash up Seffy’s camp? And what business did a god have, making her come fight it by herself?! Giants were things gods fought, not young women. Stupid! Stab! Blasted thing! Stab!

Dyana started moving faster by jamming the spear in and using it to pull herself up until she realized that if she lost it, she’d have no way to kill the gods-cursed thing. The giant might push the spear all the way in trying to swat her, and that would be the end of the fight.

She should have left it tied on her back, because now she had to climb with it held in her teeth, making her taste the oily grime left on it from her hands.

The giant tried kicking her free with his other foot, then swatted at her several more times as he turned a circle, crushing trees into splinters.

Each time she climbed ever higher. When she reached the back of his knee, she looked down. That was a mistake. The ground was impossibly distant below her. She’d never been so high up in her life. People were never meant to see things from this high. Although, thank the spirits, he had mostly stopped moving forward. That counted for something.

She turned her attention back to the giant. It had been so long since the fight started that she was calming down. Already her arms were losing some of their strength, despite her being able to run for dozens of miles without a problem.

Dyana jammed the spear into the jutting ridge of a tendon at the back of his knee and felt her bones shake. He must have howled, but she still couldn’t hear. She jerked it back and forth before pulling it out, then jammed it in again.

The giant raised his leg to smash her between his calf and thigh, but she spun out to the side, jamming the spear in where she needed a hand hold. She made it out in time, but the giant’s hand was swinging down right for her and she had nowhere to go.

A split-second decision, and she sprang as hard as she could off the giant’s knee aiming for its hand. She drove the spear into flesh where his thumb met his wrist and pulled to propel herself to the side, barely evading being crushed.

She held on with all her desperate strength as the giant instinctively tried to shake her off his arm, but somehow the spear stayed in.

The giant raised his arm up to his face to get a look at her, pulling her through a hundred feet or more of empty space. It was so fast and sudden it drew the blood out of her head and left her dizzy for a moment, and she panted hard to keep from vomiting. If things weren’t moving so fast, she knew, she would have been comatose with terror. She could already feel her mind planning the nightmares she’d be having.

But she finally got a good look at him. Matted, grimy hair stuck to his forehead and dangled before his eyes, while his paler gray-black beard hid most of the rest of his face. Dirt and grime rested in every crease and fold of his skin. His red eyes were set deep and surrounded by darker skin that made them look small and mean, even though they were as big as she was. His dirty, yellow teeth were as long as her legs and wider than her shoulders.

For a brief moment, their eyes locked and neither moved. Then he opened his mouth for another silent scream which hit her like a full-body slap, nearly knocking her from her crouch atop his wrist.

Dyana yanked the spear free and leaped wildly for his face, hoping to grab his hair or beard and make for his eyes. The giant leaned back, startled, and she missed. Her heart stopped.

Only the greatest good fortune kept her from falling hundreds of feet to the ground. The spear tip caught once in his collarbone and slowed her fall enough to let her get a grip on the thicker hair of his chest.

She raced to climb upward again, but instead of making any progress, she got tangled up and stuck. She could smell his body odor now, and the grime, the salt, the dirt, the hair… her revulsion was so thick it became impossible to move.

The giant’s hand slammed down over her, crushing her and driving the breath from her lungs. As he lifted his palm away, fingers twice her height closed in around her.

Before he could close his fist, she braced the spear with both hands, leaning precipitously against his chest as her toes slipped in their grip, and stabbed at the fleshy pad of a finger. She yanked it free and was stabbing again when he yanked his hand back, dismayed.

She couldn’t hurt him like this, not truly, and once he realized it, she was dead. But what else could she do, other than play the persistent wasp?

The giant slid his hand across his chest again, trying to swipe her off. She rolled twice beneath the edge of his palm, but she kept her grip on his twisting hair. It kneaded her guts like bread, and the pressure should have killed her. Only years of her father’s brutal training had strengthened her bones enough to keep them from pulverizing. She doubted she would last if it happened again.

This fight was almost over and she was going to lose. Dyana looked around in a panic for anything she could do, any opportunity to end it before she was smashed to paste. She doubted she could get deep enough into his neck to make him bleed out, and his heart would be simply impossible. His skin alone was at least a foot thick. His eyes seemed impossibly high above her.

The giant flicked her with his finger like a child teasing a beetle. His fingertip slammed across her body from knee to chest, threatening to shatter her. How she kept her grip on his chest hair, she had no idea.

He flicked her again. Her bones creaked, and this time her grip failed. His disgusting, greasy hair slid right out of her fingers. A heartbeat later, she was in the air with nowhere to grab.

She flailed in the empty space. The spear floated away from her, just beyond her reach. She had enough time to scream and inhale again before she hit the ground.

Dyana didn’t feel the hit. She awoke a moment later, but not all at once; her mind floated on a sea of white emptiness, aware but aware of nothing.

After a moment of peace, the memory hit her as hard as the ground had. There was a giant, and he was coming to stomp on the Night People. Get up, Dyana! Wait, I’m alive! How am I alive?

She clawed her way toward wakefulness as electric panic raced up and down her nerves. She had fallen, so far it should have killed her. Farther than any person in the world had ever fallen, she was sure. I’m alive. Alright, how much of me is broken? Oh, spirits, I have to get up!

She dreamed she opened her eyes, looking into a red, smoke-filled sky that wasn’t right. She knew it for false immediately and tried even harder to wake up the rest of the way. Reality flooded in and washed away the dream like a wave clearing the sand of footprints.

Dyana opened her eyes and was greeted by a mild headache and a wave of nausea. The sunlight must be getting too deep inside her. Oh, spirits, that was unpleasant. She lifted her hands and looked at them and found them intact. Her arms worked. She was flat on her back.

Get up, Dyana. Get up and fight. Everything was silent because she was still deaf, not because it was over. She had to get up. The Night People were being destroyed. The giant was upon them.

She lifted her knees. Both her legs worked. She rolled to her side, then to her stomach. She pushed herself up, and finally, she could move again. She stood and tried to run, but immediately stumbled and fell on her face. Dizzy. She was still dizzy. She could feel the fingertips of unconsciousness lightly brush against her, wondering if there was any purchase. There was not! Come on, silly girl, get moving!

Dyana realized she had not been out for long, regardless of how she felt. The giant was only twenty or so of his immense paces away from her, but that was far enough to reach the tribe. She watched as he raised his foot to the side, then swiped it along the ground like a child clearing a crab from the path. She couldn’t see what he’d hit from here, and she didn’t want to know. She was glad she couldn’t hear the screams.

She looked around for the spear. It was right there, and it was fine. She picked it up, or rather, she tried. Her fingers fumbled and dropped it, so she tried again and dropped it a second time. Her feet kept trying to run ahead of her hands, not leaving her enough time to get a good grip on it. She had to force herself to stop and pick it up properly, feeling like an absolute idiot.

Dyana made it back to the village almost immediately and found disaster. The tribe was too slow in spreading out and running away, and the giant had perhaps two dozen people under him unable to get away. He raised his foot for a direct stomp and in a twisting mess of horns and long, black tails, the Night People desperately clawed over each other to get out from under him. She screamed and charged in, no plan but trying to hurt him any way she could.

The giant’s foot came down so hard it made the dirt roll in a wave like ocean water. It stole her feet from under her, but not for long. She ran toward him.

His foot lifted away so he could see what he’d stepped on and thank Palthos there was no one under it.

There were too many people still around. Too many watching, mouths open in silent screams. Others scrambled to get away, rushing to get their arms around their last few possessions and save what they could. A man raced into the crowd the giant had cornered and tried to pick up a woman from the ground, where she was too slow to get up. They mouthed screams at each other that Dyana couldn’t hear.

The giant’s tree-trunk club slammed down, point first, and only the barest miracle rolled them out of the way in time. He raised it and slammed it again, and again, and again. They had no time to even get up to run, but they survived. They only had to roll a few feet to dodge.

Dyana felt waves in the air shake her lungs and she looked up to see the giant laughing, tall as a mountain above them.

Now what? Should she climb up again? That took forever and she’d be no more than an annoyance until she made up to his eyes, or perhaps his egg-purse if she could get the spear deep enough through the looser folds of skin. She couldn’t do it in time to stop him now, though, and now is what she needed. She had to bring him down.

Dyana gripped the spear in both hands and drove it into the quick beneath the giant’s pinky toenail. That stopped him trying to pestle the couple.

Before she saw his reaction, she raced over to the giant’s other foot and stood under his ankle. She slammed her fist into the pointy part where the bone that ran down the back of the shin ended. The skin was thin there, hard and devoid of fat. She punched again. And again. She felt something give somehow, through skin a foot thick.

She must have caused him pain, finally, because the giant stumbled. His body movement matched that of a normal-size person, which bothered her mind for reasons she couldn’t articulate to herself. He hopped away from her and nearly fell. His steps thundered into the ground in rapid succession as he tried to regain his balance, crushing handcarts and half-deconstructed tents fifty feet away from her.

Dyana ran over to his ankle again for another strike. He tried to lift his foot away, but he was far slower than she was. She slammed her fist into the same spot and felt something go spongy inside.

Once his foot was too high for her to reach, she ran to his other one and struck the joint of his big toe with the same force. Her fist sank six inches into the hard, thin skin, and she felt the bone split.

She glanced up to see what the giant was doing, but she couldn’t see his face at this angle. She punched the broken toe joint again, and again. Bones the size of boulders split apart under her knuckles.

The giant stepped away on his bad ankle and stumbled again, shuddering in pain. And thank the spirits, he was stumbling away from camp. There was no one behind him, not that she could see; but even if there was, what else could she do? A persistent wasp, that was all. Meaningless.

Dyana leaped into the air and spun, driving down on the giant’s pinky toe with her shin. She felt nothing break, but the giant must fear her now because he was immediately stepping backward away from her, trying to favor a broken toe on one foot and a damaged ankle on the other.

She raced in again, and before she could hit anything the giant pulled his foot away from underneath her. And just like that, she was chasing him.

He only made it two more steps before he tripped backwards against an immense and ancient oak, gnarled and dead and covered in vines. It shattered against his heel, but it was enough.

Like the very sky crushing down and rolling to flatten the earth, the giant fell back. He turned mid fall to keep from being hurt. His knee hit first, then his thigh and hip and side, and finally his shoulder.

Dyana couldn’t see from here if he’d hit his head, but she wasted no time. She jumped high and climbed onto his shin, then raced up his leg without a pause. She wanted to reach his eyes, but the footing was poor and his long, thick, greasy hairs made for some very difficult terrain. She was only halfway up his thigh, marveling again at just how immense he was, when he started to sit up.

She was close enough to make a sprint for his stomach and try climbing again, but the thought of how far up she’d have to go to do any harm kept her where she was. Dyana looked up to meet his gaze but had to leap away at full speed when he clapped his hands together right where she’d been standing.

A knot of panic started forming in her throat. Before, he’d only been using one hand and holding the tree trunk in the other, but now that his hands were free, how was she supposed to dodge both? Or stop him for that matter, to say nothing of killing him?

He slapped his thigh. The shockwaves in his flesh stole her feet from under her and flailing to catch her balance got her tangled in his long, thick leg hairs. That stumble saved her, as he slapped his other hand right where she would have been if she hadn’t fallen.

Dyana pulled herself forward and rose to her feet. She sprinted sideways, where she jumped the terrifying distance from his thigh to the ground. It was the farthest she’d ever fallen on purpose, perhaps thirty feet, and it was long enough for her to regret it before she hit the ground. Fortunately, her form was good and she fell into a roll to stand unharmed, if a little shaken.

She turned just in time to see his hand coming down for her and hop back, aiming desperately for the space between his fingers. She almost made it, but not quite. The skin of his finger grazed her forearm and nearly separated it from her body. The concussive burst of air from the slap threw her back, head over heels, and she only avoided braining herself on a tree root by luck measured in inches.

Rising to her feet, she knew she was in trouble. The muscles in her left arm had been traumatized and possibly torn and she couldn’t close her hand anymore to make a fist. One of the bones might even have broken. In a few minutes, she’d probably have a big purple bruise there, ten inches long. Whether she’d been truly injured or not, it was too early to say. Hopefully not. But aside from the hurt, she had a bigger problem—her strength was waning.

The vital force that strengthened her strikes and turned her skin to iron was weakening as her body grew more and more weary. And she really was getting weary. No amount of training could keep her from feeling the effects of maximum exertion after so long, and even so, she’d been slacking on her training all winter.

The giant rolled to his hands and knees and crawled toward her. Their eyes met again, across a great distance of empty space. To him, she was a bug he was very intent on smashing. No further understanding passed between them.

He began slapping the ground in earnest, chasing her as she ran to avoid him. He could move so far so quickly that it was all she could do to leap away each time. His slaps pushed so much air that she had to move with the wind or be tossed on her neck, and the concussive force itself threw great mounds of dirt and rocks and wood in every direction.

Dyana couldn’t see much through the flying dirt and hanging dust, and half the time she only evaded him because he couldn’t see her either and had to guess.

A spike of wood hit her shoulder, penetrating an inch before flinging itself away. It drew blood. She was running out of time. Now what!? she screamed in her mind, casting about for any idea that might save her.

The giant paused to catch his breath and let the dust settle. She could see him panting, see the veins thicker than her torso pulsing with his heartbeat.

She had to run. Either that or win immediately. The third option was death. Although the thought made her sick, she could get away and leave all these people to their fates. Leave Sheth and his tribe, leave Pepper and his monstrous father, and just go find somewhere else to live. She had no ties here, no reason to stay beyond preference and affection. She’d been cold to the Night People because she was jealous that Seffy belonged to them and not her. She’d been cold to Pepper because she was ashamed of how she left Androkles and his family. And she left Androkles and his family to be captured because… because why, exactly? She didn’t even know, but they were the first people to show her any warmth since the day her tribe was massacred. And now not one of them really seemed to want her around.

All hope of reconciliation was tied up in this fight, and it was hopeless. She knew it. She had known it from the start. Her terror had merely been recognition of the truth. She needed to run. The god’s lesson to her was that some mistakes can never be undone. Some tangled knots never came untied, and the only choices were to ignore them or cut them apart.

The giant seemed satisfied that he’d caught his breath and the onslaught resumed. Slap after slap pounded into the ground. Bursts of air hit her like solid ground, and solid ground burst against her, rocks and clay drawing blood and leaving bruises.

Dyana’s focus became a dance and she moved in time to the thunderous pounding she felt but could not hear. Nothing but perfect silence, leaving her mind to rest in an odd sort of stillness, a quietness in which the certainty of failure shone like a lamplight.

But there was also wisdom there, deep in the meditation of battle, waiting for her to be ready. She was in this position because she kept running away. Away from the lands of her childhood, away from Androkles and his kind wife, away from everything, in her heart if not in her body.

She was a grown woman of seventeen; young, but with many years ahead of her. It had only been a year since her tribe was slaughtered, and already she was losing her way. Where would she be in another year, if she ran? Or ten years? If she set her feet firmly on the wrong path now, she might never find the right one again.

She didn’t want to be that woman, the woman who always ran. It’s not how she was raised and it’s not who she wanted to be. Perhaps… could a god be so wise, as to recognize that and try and save her? Why would he bother?

The rhythm decayed and her meditation faltered. The giant was slowing down, and so was she. They were both exhausted. He paused again to pant, and she saw her chance. She covered fifty paces in ten leaping steps and kicked the first knuckle of a finger with all the strength she could muster. Her foot slammed into the bone, not hard enough to crack it but hard enough to hurt.

The giant flung his hand away from her and shook it in the air, exactly like a regular person would react to a bee sting. She felt the air rumble as he cried out in pain, but she wasted no time and raced to his other hand, still resting on the ground. She braced for a kick, but he lifted his hand away. He raised it a hundred feet in the air, then slapped it down.

Dyana risked everything. In the instant before the strike hit, she darted fifteen feet back and turned sideways. His fingers fell to either side of her, missing her completely. The force of the air nearly knocked her unconscious, but she shook her head and punched a knuckle, striking four times with her good hand before the giant’s instinctual pain response lifted his hand away.

And then she knew the answer. She would hurt him, and hurt him, and hurt him, and never stop. He would never catch her. He would only suffer, pain on pain on pain. She was a wasp, a curse on him sent by the gods that would not relent.

Across an impossible distance, their eyes met again. This time she gave him her most dangerous scowl and stepped forward. He might mash her eventually, but she had spite on her side, and he had pain.

“Bastard!” she screamed at him, silently. Part of her wondered how she even sounded right now. “Get of a goat and a mound of elephant shit! You leaking, sloppy shit-pail! I’m gonna hurt you!”

Dyana ran forward, waving her good fist. The giant reared up to his knees, and he rose to his feet just in time to keep her from kicking him right in the kneecap. She kept going and went for his toes, but an unbalanced and awkward hop lifted his foot away just in time. She turned and went for his other foot, and then it became a game.

She chased after his tender toes with such ferocity that he could barely keep his balance as he tried to dance away from her. Silent thunder pounded into her with each of his footfalls. Vibrations in the air told her he was hollering his displeasure, but she didn’t relent.

The giant managed to stay away, but only by virtue of his tremendous size. He moved dozens of paces with each step as he scurrying backward like a scared dog. He favored his damaged bones and stepped awkwardly, but he could still move.

And frankly, that was good, because Dyana was getting so worn out that she wasn’t sure it’d even hurt if she caught up to him and kicked a toe again. There wasn’t much left but the strength of a fit young woman, and that wouldn’t impress him.

Thank the spirits and one god, the giant finally realized she meant it and turned to break and flee. She chased him while he limped a full fifty of his paces, covering a stretch of broken ground nearly a mile long.

Something flashed in her eye. She skidded to a stop, raising her arms to cover her face against whatever it was, but it was only Wolfscar. The tiny fairy had caught up to her and was waving both hands for her to stop. His tiny little mouth was moving, but she had no idea what he was saying.

The giant’s tilted, painful jog became a run. A moment later, he was a mile away, then two, still towering above the landscape like one of earth’s pillars broken through.

It was over. She’d won. She gazed inward, wondering how she’d feel, but her spirit had no more effort to give to feeling anything at all. Too much terror, too much focus, and she was completely empty. That well was dry.

“Hi, Wolfscar. I won,” she said, or maybe rasped. She couldn’t hear it, but her throat felt rough. “I can’t hear you. Both my eardrums burst. Maybe in a couple days. Do you mind if I just sit down for a moment?”

The fairy’s mouth stopped moving and he watched her plop to the ground. She’d wanted to sit, but she found herself laying on her back. Wolfscar sat on the top of her sternum and waited, fidgeting like little boys always do.

Life started flowing back into her, but not energy. Her limbs stayed dead and leaden, her guts like they’d been swirled around in a cook pot. But she felt lighter somehow. Free. No, that wasn’t it. What she felt was relief. Relief, and hope.

Not too much longer, Wolfscar got bored and mouthed something to her she couldn’t understand. She stayed resting, not ready to move yet and feeling quite pleasant where she was.

She closed her eyes, but before a count of ten someone shook her awake by the shoulder. She opened her eyes to find Pepper kneeling over her, face all red from exertion and dripping sweat. In one hand he clenched a demon’s horn, as if it would have done him any good.

“Oh, hi, Pepper. I wondered why he ran. He must have seen you coming,” she said, trying to smile.

He grinned insincerely, nervously. He said something she couldn’t hear.

“I’m fine. Help me up. Let’s go back.”

She let Pepper help pull her to her feet, and then let him hold her hand as they walked all the way back to what was left of the camp.