We hunted. I’d learned hunting from my tutors, but some details were different on the surface. In the sky you could exhaust yourself and fall to your death, or drop your prey and lose it forever. But the basics hadn’t changed: every predator had its own unique skills, own way of hunting its prey. Without a lot of strength, or any deadly venom or really big claws, you had to rely on teamwork and better senses⁠ ⁠—⁠ your eyes, frills, and above all else, your tongue. Hunting on the ground was so much safer, so much more secure, than what I grew up on; the surface had a ton of flightless prey, like so many easy pickings. For example: the ape I now hunted. Not just injured and exhausted, it also lugged around a corpse, and there was no thought at all in tracking the fear and sweat. How could these creatures survive in the first place? I flew low and slow, in a bounding flight, holding my breath for the ape to relax or stop moving⁠ ⁠—⁠ and for Hinte to finish bandaging her tail. It was only one wound⁠ ⁠— the first fight with the apes was worse. I couldn’t help the knot of worry in my stomach, but I could think. Hinte would be okay. She had to be. The beating of my wings filled the air around me, and clear venom bedewed my fangs. There was a faint tinge to it, but I couldn’t taste what. I let the thought light and felt the beating of my wings. I was alone again. But that didn’t matter as much as the lightning flutter in my heart, flashing through my veins. I flicked my tongue, waving it in the air before pressing it to my vomer. Moving my head to either side, I built a sense of direction, of scent gradients. A new smell had appeared: urine, off to the side of the ape’s old path. Was it that scared? It should be. That flightless monkey had hurt my friend. I would hurt it. The mixed scent of urine and blood didn’t move in the next few moments. Was it tired at last? Did it think I lost its trail? I flapped my wings, harder, anger straightening my slow bounding flight. I could keep waiting for Hinte, or I could catch the human myself and show her. I was swooping down to the spot, growling. On the ground, I only saw a wet puddle and scraps of torn, bloody cloth. I landed, flicking my tongue again. Near the puddle sat a circular human canteen, black and smelling of sharp, dead leather. And around it there were other splashed wet spots, like water pour out, that smelled slightly of sweat. I tilted my head before jerking it up. It had rinsed its scent, even if partially. I should have gone after it with the chance. I smelled drops of blood on the ground here, leading off in a kind of trail. There were footprints too, vague things, and they seemed to stop suddenly with the urine puddle. I leapt up, flying low along where the blood pointed, waiting for the urine scent to fade, the distant blood and sweat to come clear again. Soon came distant flapping, closing in on me. I kept flying, but slower. I started, “Is your tail⁠ ⁠—” She caught up and cut me off in moments, her voice a sharp growl: “Tongueless! What are you doing over here?” “Following the ape’s trail?” I said. “The urine was a misdirection. The same trick it pulled to escape. And you fell for it again.” She flipped away then, flying opposite me. I flew after her, catching up in a few beats. Flying was something I did better than her, at least. I slowed my pace to fly beside her, and smiled at her. “Go,” she said. “This is not the time to talk. You can fly faster, then catch the ape. Do not show off.” With a crinkling of my frills, I did as she said. The smell found me again, coming from the distance, the other side of the spot where we left our bags. Hinte had been right. This human was tricky. Without waiting for Hinte or for the human to tire, I winged low after them until I could see the human jogging over the dustone. It moved fast, even with its weight. Had it kept that pace the entire time? At least we can fly. It might have escaped us if we had to chase it on foot. Fanning my frills, they caught a familiar skittering crunch. Below me, a dozen glasscrabs scurried in pursuit of the human! I needed to be quick. The human looked back as it ran. It held a glowing pink cryst in its mouth and there was a similar glow in its forefeet. What was it up to? Would it try to use the crysts to make the glasscrabs attack me? The crabs were scurrying behind it. I could land in front of the human, trap it between the crabs and me. Threshing my wings, I overtook the human. After twisting in the air and crashing in front of the ape, I glared, fangs out, wings spread. The ape flinched, and clutched its hold on the corpse slung over its shoulder. I growled and stepped forward. “Got you,” I said. From my fangs, I spat a stream of weak venom at its face. It would only irritate, but it’d buy me a few seconds. The ape brought its free leg to its eyes, and my venom splattered on its armored sleeve, dripping and soaking and useless. Its other foreleg moved to its mouth, and there came a quick dissonant whistle. It repeated the notes, three times, and never lowered its foreleg. And then, the ape spoke. “No.” Its voice sounded garbled. “Get you.” In its mouth, The hisses and growls of our language felt forced and alien. The ape threw the pink cryst at my feet; then it reached into a pocket. A foot-sized clay orb was in its forefeet before flying at my face. The clay orb fell short, and cracked apart on the ground. The contents exploded! My world became blinding white light that mocked the suns and stars. My frills fell over my eyes⁠ ⁠—⁠ but when I moved them, only suffocating blind darkness was there. Somewhere near me a wet rag smacked onto the ground, stinking of the musky scent the crab had marked me with earlier. After this came cracking footfalls sprinting away from me. The skittering crunches came upon me in heartbeats. I flapped my wings to scare them, to give me space to leap up and land a few strides away. I was backpedaling from the crunches, and calling, “Hinte!” The reply was as a crash on the dustone. “What now, stone-frills?” “I’m blinded!” “No, you are fine. I have seen that effect before, from ignited kakaros leaves. It overstimulates the eyes to impair vision. The effect vanishes in seconds.” I looked around, breathing, breathing until the world started to clear. “Oh, okay,” I said, my voice small. Some tartness came to my fangs, and a twist to my voice as I added, “This ape has too many tricks under its wings!” Hinte tilted her head. “Apes do not have wings.” “It’s a saying⁠ ⁠—⁠ my point is that the ape is crafty, okay? We might have to work together to catch it.” I looked to the writhing mass of crabs. They’d ripped the ape’s wet rag to shreds, and were climbing over each other to chance at the cryst. “It only has time for all of these ploys because you fall for the most apterous tricks. Let me handle this.” Hinte turned around, crouching. “Can we at least try my plan?” A tiny bit of pleading entered my tone. Hinte didn’t take off. “It’s simple, I’ll–I’ll distract the ape, and you can attack where it isn’t expecting.” “How will you do that?” “It spoke to me earlier⁠ ⁠—⁠ it sounded like a horrible monster, but it speaks and understands. We can use that.” My frills were dancing beside my head. My plan is going to be awesome⁠ ⁠—⁠ Hinte will taste it. After waving my own tongue in the air, I leapt up again, and raced after the apes’ scent. As I flew after it, I heard whistles resounding across the lake. The notes sounded complex, cacophonous, unmusical. Then came another complex whistling, from far behind me. That couldn’t be good. As I drew in on the ape, my frills folded and I prayed the endless stars my plan would work. I yelled, “Hey ape!” It felt like a leap. The reply was more whistling, the human not even glancing up⁠ ⁠—⁠ then, it spoke. “Betrayer,” was the distorted answer, its tongue garbling our sibilants. It sounded like it had a lisp. “Can we just talk? I’m so tired of chasing you.” “You betray.” Another whistle, a single note response. “Hey, we’re only here for the crysts. The little glowy stone things. You have another. I know you do.” I prayed you did. Its whistling held for longer, with another short response. This time the human was leading no glasscrab attack force; I overtook and crashed down in front of it again. I could lunge, bite its neck, end it all right now. What stopped me was the image of Hinte crashing to the ground after fighting the apes — wings punctures, legs slashed at — and she was better then me. She'd had more of a surprise. I prayed the endless stars my plan would work, because it had to expect a direct fight on some level. The human was clutching the corpse on its shoulder tighter, and had managed a single step backward. Breathing in massive pants, its body swayed with exhaustion. It recovered like molten glass turning to brittle dustone, and at length slowly spoke, maybe tasting that I didn’t attack it, or move at all, really. “I no want death dragon.” Its words came out sounding deliberated, yet it must have a weak grasp of y Draig, as told by its word choice. “Me neither,” I said, not sure how to respond or even what it meant. The ape stared at me, eyeing every inch of my body for motion. It spoke again after breaths and breaths. “My friend,” it said, patting the corpse. “Dearest friend. Comrade. I bury comrade. Is all. Please.” I raised a foreleg, and the ape started back and lifted its other limb, toes splayed. “Please. I want no death.” “I want cryst. Glowy stone, please.” The ape stared. But its face shifted, eye-cover things squeezing together. Maybe it tasted my meaning? It reached again into a pocket. Now I tensed, wary of another blinding orb. But it produced the pink stone, holding it out. It didn’t step closer, so I stepped forth. The foreleg holding its friend shifted. I reached for the cryst. That other foreleg stabbed at my neck. “Death!” it yelled. Its friend was falling to the ground beside it. I screamed out of the way. The blade was slicing the scales of my neck. A bright-white figure swooped from the sky, growling. Hinte dropped onto the human, claws slashing its neck. Blood gushed. Hinte ripped at the human’s stomach. Already exhausted, the human crumbled. To the ground it fell beside its comrade. Its forefoot felt along the ground, seeking and finding that of its dearest friend. The human coughed, chest wounds and vog catching up to it. In between its death coughs, the ape yelled its last words. “You–you monster.” It gave one last sputter and moved no more. “That took long enough,” Hinte said. I stared at the human. I didn’t look at the slick knife, I didn’t feel my neck. I was looking at Hinte. I was saying, “Um. We–we’re not monsters, right? They had this coming?” The wiver glanced at me, goggles sparing me her withering look. She spoke, sounding practiced. “Yes. The apes are trespassing on Gwymr/Frina’s land. They attacked us. We were escorting them to the faer, and they resisted.” She whisked a wing. “We need to return to town, now. While the faer is awake.” “Can⁠ ⁠—” I sputtered, and stopped a moment to compose my words. “Can we just leave? Let the Frinan guard handle all of this. We aren’t cut out for any of this. We’ll get hurt. We’ll get killed! It’s not worth it, Hinte,” I pushed word and sentence from my mouth, and it felt like breaths against a bonfire. Her face was passive, though — she only watched me. “Please, Hinte. Let’s just leave.” Hinte had inclined her head, almost thoughtful. She had the look of someone unlistening and determined, and already building her answer. When the wiver snapped her gaze down, I followed — she was looking at the pink cryst by my feet, and said, “That is one of our crysts.” I snapped my tongue. “I don’t —” “Did you listen while you flew? The whistling was call and response, a code.” “So? You left the apes alive.” “I left one ape alive.” Dustone cracked hard as I dropped to my belly and lay there. “Then the apes can raise the dead and I really don’t want to help you fight them.” “Not even Ushra could raise the dead. Not even —” Hinte stopped. “Apes play tricks, Kinri. It pretended to die.” My back was to the bright-white figure, now. “My bags are back there. My crysts. Your crysts, that you worked so hard for.” I picked up the pink cryst, shook my head. “I don’t care about crysts. I just got them so that you’d think I was actually worth something for once. That I was helpful.” I dropped the cryst. “You would be helpful standing against the humans with me.” A wing snapped open, pointing at the human. “Look at what we have already done.” “Look at what almost happened!” I finally touched the wet sting at my neck as I lifted to show the dark-green wiver. “That knife cut my neck! A little more pressure, and I would be dead!.” I finally looked down, because I knew my fangs smelled sour, but at least it didn’t have to look it. “What was that you were saying earlier?” She said, “I cannot raise the dead.” I didn’t have to say anything else. Hinte inclined her head, and left. * * *