When Lae heard the bugle-like call of the hunting horn, she jumped to her feet.

The hunters were late. She’d been huddled by the Standing Stone ever since she reached it in the morning: her dread, thirst, and tiredness mounting as the hours went by. The fifteen-foot-tall rock dwarfed everything else around, but it also provided Lae with a convenient windbreak. Everything seemed a little calmer when she was near the Stone. It had been here as long as anyone could remember. As long as anybody’s long-dead ancestors could remember, as well. The strange runes inscribed on it were thought to be a magic charm that granted luck to anyone leaving the Mountain’s Cradle, but nobody could read it. Lae didn’t think anyone knew what the Stone really was, they just came up with the most comforting lie that seemed halfway plausible. People had a habit of doing that, she’d noticed.

These were some of the thoughts she distracted herself with while she waited.

The Stone served as the marker for the northeastern pass. It was the boundary of the valley, and the thing she’d been told never to go past on threat of death. Even being this close to it would have been skirting trouble with the elders had the situation surrounding her presence here been any different.

The lead hunter came into view shortly, his bonnet waving back and forth as he climbed up the steep path. She rubbed her eyes, doubting for a second. She could see by the coloration that it wasn’t her father’s hunting bonnet. Orimo always led the hunters, though. Always. Had something happened? Lae’s gut twisted horribly as awful predictions came to her mind.

“Ho!” the man shouted, upon seeing the figure by the Standing Stone.

She lifted a hand, not able to summon the energy to call out.

The next man came into view, and the next after him. They were in single file, the standard formation for traversing steep mountain paths. Those bearing the rewards of the hunt came into view in pairs, poles on their shoulders upon which hung the preserved carcasses of their quarry. The hunt this time had been called because a tribe of invasive goats had been discovered. Her father seemed to think a monster was behind it. A threat to the Balance like a wandering monster gave him the right to gather up all the men that the village of Yayu could spare, deputizing them as hunters. Upon their return, they would go back to being farmers or fishermen, but for a period of two weeks, they wandered the treacherous passes in search of the disruptive beast. This was practically tradition to the Children of the Mountain, and it was all taken as a matter of course by the men he conscripted. Danger lurked in the high passes, but Orimo was able to bring everyone safely through hidden routes.

Shortly, the first hunter arrived at the Standing Stone, where he lay his pack down with a sigh. He placed his left palm on the stone in a solemn gesture, then turned to Lae.

“Where’s Konane?” he asked, glancing around. “She was supposed to be the welcomer last I hear—wait, are you… Lae?”

She bit her lip, not replying.

“Blast it. Don’t worry, your Papa is all right. He’d been injured and placed to the rear of the column. He’ll be up soon.”

That helped her mood some. The worst hadn’t occurred. However, as one cloud lifted, another settled. Lae was beginning to realize that she’d have to be the one to break the news of the calamity to these unknowing men.

The others arrived one-by-one, setting down their burdens and performing the same short ritual that the first man had. Finally, her father came, supported on one arm by another hunter while he hobbled along with a crutch on his other side. His stomach had been wrapped tightly in a bloody cloth, and his left leg was in a splint. He looked surprised to find his daughter standing before him, gazing at him with fatigued eyes.

“Lae? Why are you here? What happened?”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find where to start, before giving up and collapsing to the ground, crying.

- - -

The hunting party gathered around the Standing Stone in grim silence. Most of the men didn’t believe Lae’s tale at first, and assumed that she was exaggerating, or perhaps that some other clan had attacked the Cradle and that she simply mistook them in the darkness. A few even took it as an elaborate prank, but Orimo was convinced by his daughter’s tears, dispatching several scouts into the valley to confirm the state of things. One of them returned only minutes later to report on the death of all the vegetation. This silenced many of the more outspoken men, and now they most of them were staring holes into the ground or pacing restlessly. The welcoming ceremony had been forgotten.

“You said you encountered a monster with a Brand? Are you certain it was a monster?”

Lae nodded as she chewed on a piece of dry jerky. She’d been starving.

They had to be monsters. Those things certainly weren’t people. Not anymore.

Orimo rolled the dead, black branch the scout brought with him between his fingers as he considered the information.

“I want to say that it’s impossible. Everyone knows that monsters can’t receive Brands. But…”

She waited for him to continue. Several of the other hunters had gathered around him as well, listening quietly. Orimo smiled softly when he saw her looking at him expectantly, but she could tell he was hiding a deep worry.

“…but I received word from the Enclave two years ago that a new type of monster had been discovered. A monster that can take on any form imaginable. Not a face-stealer or a skinwalker, but something else. As long as it was a creature that once breathed, it could die and become this type of monster, or so the messenger said.”

Though he didn’t say it outright, Lae and the others, by putting two and two together, knew what he was referring to by this point. A wave of restless shifting and whispering swept through the camp, quieting only when Orimo continued.

“As you know, our Funeral of the Open Sky doesn’t leave much behind for these monsters to... ‘work with,’” he said, “but I was told that they can even possess bones. I directed the undertaker to take certain precautions with the remains of our dead.”

“I heard,” spoke a younger man, “that when the elders brought the deceased up to the western crown, they took tools with them. Hammers and chisels. Saws.”

Orimo closed his eyes, nodding. Lae realized she missed something when she saw how all the men adopted unsettled expressions. There was a short moment of silence as everyone contemplated this.

“Can these—uh, what do you call them, Hunt-Leader?” asked another man.

“Undead,” Orimo supplied.

“Can these undead get Brands, then?”

Her father heaved out a sigh.

“Everyone knows that it’s by the Mountain’s grace that we earn our Brands. Humans, and humans alone, receive them. That, along with our intelligence, is why we are blessed over all the creatures of the earth.”

There was a unanimous accord for this statement.

“Monsters are powerful. They kill and grow, and occasionally, one will evolve into a true threat. But they are unthinking, just as animals are. Ruled by instinct. No, they are worse than animals. They do not maintain the Balance, they disturb it. Like the One-Horned Goat,” he said, gesturing at his injuries. “They are creatures of destruction. Undead, being monsters, shouldn’t be able to receive the Mountain’s blessing. That would go against the natural law of things. However, if they were to take the form of a man…”

A chill seemed to sweep over the clearing.

“…Perhaps they might corrupt this blessing for their own gain,” he finished.

- - -

“Papa, I thought that some monsters had Brands. Like the… the snake one. With the rainbow scales.”

Currently, Orimo and his daughter were sitting together in the outskirts of the temporary camp the group had made. It had been many hours since their arrival, and the day had deepened into night. The old man had done his best to get the other hunters to sleep, but in the light of the flickering campfire Lae watched a dozen men waiting in line to throw knives into a target someone had painted on a tree trunk. Many others were still up, talking in groups or pacing by themselves, thinking about their families in the valley below. Less than a dozen actually slept.

It had been a long trek, and at the rate things were going, it would be an even longer night. The hunters couldn’t move until the scouts reported back, which meant their course of action would be decided in the morning.

“You mean the Prism Serpent? Who’s been telling you tales like that?” he asked.

Lae muttered a name under her breath.

Orimo chuckled softly, wincing from the wound on his side.

“That brat Kaipo probably heard it from his brother. Sommai’s been at the Enclave for a year and instead of training like he should be, he’s been digging up every piece of dusty old lore he can find. Sometimes I can’t tell if he wants to be a hunter or a storyteller.”

He cracked his neck, the audible pops making Lae cringe. She hated when he did that.

“That’s all it is: a story. I’ve heard it, too, you know. Some folks there say that the old monsters—the really ancient ones, you know—all have Brands, but nobody’s confirmed it. The last sighting of the Prism Serpent was over eighty years ago, long before I was born. Before that, it was the Colossus, and that sighting must have been over a hundred years ago. Any monsters older than that may as well be dead for all the effect they have.”

“Do they have Brands?”

“For what my opinion’s worth, I think it’s possible. Perhaps, at some point in the distant past, Father Mountain saw fit to give Brands to all creatures, human or no. Humans used their powers to help bring about Balance, while the purposeless monsters abused their gift and proved that they were unworthy of it. From then on, Father Mountain may have decided that only we would receive his grace.”

That was a story she’d never heard before.

“How do you know that’s what happened?”

“Oh, no. No, these are just the guesses of an old man. One thing is certain, however: we’re the only ones worthy of these marks. That creature you saw… was an abomination.”

Rolling up his sleeve, Orimo revealed his own Brand. Lae saw the blue rune of Temperance there: a circle enclosed by a diamond. It was a simple thing as far as Brands went, the circle represented the self and the four walls of the diamond signified the constraint of extremes. At least, that’s how her father described it to her. It glowed: a constant low level of blue light.

“…I was told that I was lucky with Temperance. It’s thought to be one of the more ‘certain’ Brands, you know.”

“’Certain?’”

“Yes. They say it intervenes the least with your personality. That’s because Temperance doesn’t compel you to do anything, only to hold back. To act within certain boundaries.”

Orimo rarely revealed anything about his Brand. Lae had always viewed it as a gift that allowed one to get stronger through magic, but never gave it much more thought than that. She’d always assumed she would get one when she was older. It seemed the obvious course of action to her. Her father had one, so she should qualify, right?

But a Brand changed the bearer? That worried her. She didn’t like being forced into a role she hated. That’s why she ran away whenever the village women tried to get her to do chores.

“Did you…?”

Orimo gave a wry smile. “Yes. I changed greatly. Those who think Temperance the unchanging Brand don’t know what it’s really like. Though it might be blasphemy to say it, especially since it’s a blessing given to me by Father Mountain, I think Temperance is the worst sort of Brand you can get.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I used to be a real wild sort, you know. A bit like you, Lae.”

“Like me?”

She couldn’t imagine that. Orimo had always been dependable. He was the steadfast rock in the river while eddies swirled about him. He alone remained unmoving though the entire earth may turn about him.

“Perhaps Father Mountain thought to reign me in when he bestowed Temperance. If that was the intention, it worked. In the course of three years I went from a mischief maker to something more resembling a monk. As I gained levels, I unconsciously began to control my actions more and more. You should’ve seen your Grandmama’s expression when I returned from the Enclave. She thought I’d been castra—erm. Knocked over the head with a brick. But that wasn’t all. Over the years… it changed me even further. I began not only controlling my own actions, but supervising others. Perhaps you thought me a strict father because of this,” he sighed. “Perhaps you’ll always think me one.”

Lae blinked. Suddenly her father seemed to grow… distant, like an invisible gulf had just opened up between them.

“Lae, tomorrow I’m going to send you to the Enclave.”

She leapt to her feet. “No! What about—”

Orimo held up a hand, and she bit down on her lip.

“The Mountain’s Cradle is lost, Lae. Even if we saved the people, whatever this pollution is that corrupted the valley will make life here an impossibility. Go, tell them what happened here, and make sure they prepare accommodations for refugees.”

“You mean…?”

“If we find any survivors in the Cradle, we’ll be sending them there.”

Lae had been expecting her father to arrive and fix everything. She’d imagined him sweeping into the valley like a storm, killing monsters left and right, making all the things wrong with the world right again. That was before she’d seen the condition he was in.

They’d lost. They’d lost before even being able to fight back. And now he was sending her away.

“What about you?” she asked, fighting back her tears of frustration.

Orimo remained silent for a while. When he spoke up, it was to ask her a question.

“Do you know how I got injured? Did anyone tell you?”

She shook her head.

“I picked a fight with the One-Horned Goat.”

Lae blinked. She’d heard of that monster. A wandering beast with fur as black as night, it wandered through the mountains, hunting animals and men alike with a carnivorous appetite. It was supposed to travel alone, not with a herd, so nobody had expected the hunting party to encounter it.

She eyed the goats they had brought back. She didn’t see the carcass of a monster that fit that description. Where was the body?

“You can probably guess,” he followed her gaze. “I lost. I went out two weeks ago intending on rebelling against my Brand, you know. I’ve been stuck at this bottleneck for so long, at the peak of my third class… I thought that by killing a monster like that accursed Goat on my own, I’d finally break through. But somehow, it sensed my arrows. Once it located my position, well… it was all the men could do to drive it off me with rocks and arrows of their own. We had to turn back, with me slowing our party the entire way. After a week of this, I return to hear that the Cradle is overrun and a second monster, possibly worse than even the Goat, is marauding within it.”

The man’s tone had grown more bitter the longer he spoke, his stern features morphing into a scowl. To Lae, it appeared that he was angrier at himself than either of the monsters he spoke of.

“Lae, I’m sorry. I must stay here. This Branded undead must be killed.”