“Mother should we call First?” asked Bucket One.

The blood splashed bodies of the two Lion Beast kin lay before us, banquet on the table of a low grass plain. I remember claiming the livers of both and then settling before one while Bucket One and Bucket Two settled on the other consuming, feasting. Utilising our talons to slice and shred until the mouth-sized portions fed and eased our hunger. I remember the joy in their eyes and then nothing.

Bucket One and Bucket Two’s consumption are near two thirds complete, hence Bucket One’s question. Assessing my effort, not yet half complete. How?

“Why have I not feasted as well as you?”

Bucket One and Bucket Two, lift their leathery, feathered heads from their endeavours and glance at each other.

“You stilled for a time Mother and we didn’t deem it our place to question you.”

Stilled? I know how I appear when my Master calls to me, how could I not. Maybe First can sort out what happened or didn’t happen.

“Where is First? Why isn’t she with us?” I ask.

“She watches your son, Mother?” Bucket Two’s voice wining while fidgeting with her current morsel.

“My son?”

“Your son Mother, your adopted son? A Lion Beast kin …” answered Bucket One.

“Fly and fetch First, I have more questions than answers.” I attempt to raise my voice; this confusion is frustrating and yet the mystery of it steals my anger.

“You don’t wish to summon her Mother?” Bucket One speaks, although they both stare, questioning.

Yes, I guess I do, how could I not remember … the instinct to summon returns as I exercise my will.

“First, return to me, immediately!”

“Yes Mother, I followed them far North.” I sense the pleasure in her thoughts, doing the bidding of her Mother, yet I don’t remember asking her to perform the task.

“Bucket One and Bucket Two finish your meal, I will save some of mine for First as a reward for her efforts.”

They both show their sharp pointed teeth and continue feasting punctuated with happy yelps.

My urge to dine on the flesh on offer fades, I observe my two children instead while I await the arrival of First. Something has occurred or possibly not occurred. I devour flesh, larger mouthfuls, sliced efficiently, my carcass normally finished if two of my children are two-thirds completed. Yet it isn’t.

My two children noted an absence, during my meditation, could I have been occupied by my current status?

A yellow, red, orange dawn sun greets me when First wings into view, my patience about done. Bucket One and Bucket Two scout at my request, useful in and of itself, more importantly, to allow me to question First alone.

She lands before me and bows.

“Eat your fill loyal servant.” First shows her pointed teeth and slices into lion beast kin between us.

“Report Bucket One.”

“Many, many, many lion beast kin trek towards us, they hunt the plains for prey.”

“Don’t reveal yourself.”

“No Mother, I stay in the sun or perch in a tree.”

“Report Bucket Two.”

“Much food Mother, they break their camps for the day, we find easily at night and lure while hidden in trees.”

I pace, I admit to myself, awkwardly on talons. It helps as I wait…

“Mother, thank you.”

“Report First.”

“Well hidden I kept watch on them, your adopted son and his mate as they fought until your son won and they stumbled back to their camp. They were confused when the other two were missing and searched in places they were too big to hide in, funny Mother.”

I stare at the single tree where I remembered tempting one of the beast kin and try as I might, no more. First is awaiting my agreement, I am aware, although too distracted to acknowledge her.

“I followed them as they tracked their kin. They found them, Bucket One and Bucket Two ripping into one, you, Mother leaning over the other. They didn’t stay, in the moonlight, even their furry faces showed fear Mother. I followed them far until you summoned me, Mother.”

I zeroed in on my loyal follower and she responded by stopping her skipping and returning my gaze.

“Mother?”

“I need you to remember, what was I doing when the beast kin found their slain companions?”

“The beast kin beneath you was gutted and you sliced off several portions. You were poised Mother, to slice another, you didn’t though. I thought to check you, I didn’t as Bucket One and Bucket Two guarded you and you commanded me to watch your adopted son.”

“I can’t remember.” My simple statement is a simple truth. If I held any feelings for my adopted son, they no longer existed. Beast kin held no uniqueness to me, furred faces. My faithful followers, their facial features unique, their leathery colouring unique, individuals, named and recognised. I couldn’t remember why my followers now call me Mother.

“Why do you call me Mother?”

First scrunched her face before answering.

“You adopted the beast kin and fly away and then came back and required us to call you Mother.”

“Describe my adopted son.”

“He is young Mother, his mane barely grown, I don’t know what else. I know his mate said he too young for her, his mane feeble, not a warrior.”

I can’t follow my adopted son to ask, I am tethered to my Master. Perhaps I can adopt another.

“Bucket Two find prey, Lion Beast kin, young.”

“Which is young Mother?”

“Tasty soft, short fur around his neck.”

“Yes, Mother I know I found before.”

“Return to me.”

I summon Bucket One back; we will hunt together.

---Rufus POV

“Shouldn’t we scout towards the Ancient Town?” asked Dilia.

“Use your nose Fox, what scent fills it?”

Her ears lay back and her muzzle pouts as only Fox Beast kin can.

“I am the scout you mutt, I picked up their scent many strides ago, they are not our mission.”

Smiling, baring my teeth, I am no mutt my Dog Beast kin linage is pure.

“They are Ogres and Orcs, always our business!” I growl.

“There is no victory in hunting their wives.”

Mmph, Ogre is Ogre, Orc is Orc, although to determine they are female is beyond my nose or not a warrior skill.

“They will be heading for the males, we follow them.”

“We could be first to the Ancient Town? Our elders howled when it called, sent us by demanding the three clans offer whatever we required!” She showed me her pendant, pfft, the same as mine except for colour.

“Everyone will head for the Ancient Town and talk. To hunt them leads us to the mountain …”

I leave the statement open-ended, encouragement for the fox beast kin to work it out for herself. As I motion to turn away, she slaps my shoulder, leather glove on metal cuirass.

“You mean to enter the Cavern, enter the Dungeon!” she howls.

“That would be foolish!” I retort.

I notice her relax.

“Did I tell you I am feeling foolish today?” My laughing bark incites her.

“You can’t!”

Displaying the gold pendant, waving it before her muzzle, I speak, my words are law.

“Lead Brak and Sheala with haste, they will ambush and harass to slow until Fesser and I arrive to slaughter them.” Ignoring her low growl, I continue to inform her of my will. “Ensure you mark the trail so two warriors can follow, I don’t want to wander, I want a battle.”

“Again, Ogre Wives and Orc Wives, why?”

I resist burying my mail fist into her muzzle.

“Fesser can talk Orc, we will take hostages and take it easy.” How is this difficult to understand?

“This is not our mission!”

Taking a step forward, our muzzles now a blade width apart I yell. “Go before you have an accident! I command!” I enjoy the fear in her eyes as she sights my steel gauntlet rise and she steps back. My steel gauntlet thumps my steel breastplate rather than her muzzle and the satisfaction I crave.

Finally, she lopes away, signalling Brak and Sheala to follow her. The heavy forest crowds behind them. Fesser snarls, his gauntlet striking his breastplate, steel striking steel in salute. We grab up the backpacks and supplies for the five of us as our scout and skirmishers hunt light.

Their trail is easily followed, marked by wolf urine. She forced Brak to lift his leg most likely! Cheeky she-fox, ah well as long as she follows orders and does her job, nothing else matters. Fesser and I strike out keen and quickly realise the backpacks and supplies tire us and we slow. As warriors our full plate armour is part of us, a second skin, sized and worn since a pup, similar I suspect to Dilia and her archery skill, pulling on bowstrings since a cub. The ungainly size and weight impede us, and it is at dusk when our trail ends upon greeting Brak.

Brak reported. “We slowed them. They are huddled against the sheer black stone of the mountain. We assumed they would want to escape under the cover of darkness, instead they huddle.”

“Sheala and Dilia?” I ask.

“They are keeping them under watch, while I break out a meal, trail rations, Dilia insisted no campfire.”

Yes, she would worry about the small things. I grunt in agreement; dried tough meat will suffice.

---Aphrodite POV

Bucket Two is proud to lead us to our prey. She strokes her wings in flight with strength and grace.

“We fly wide of the campfires Mother.”

“Where they were last night, doesn’t mean they remain there today or tonight,” I reply.

“They dry meat and skins. They stay a while yet Mother.”

“Good!”

We glide across the treetops, the forest gradually thickening and the green canopy complete when Bucket Two swoops into it. My daughters, yes, I confirm in my mind, my daughters follow her descent as do I.

“Four young follow a great maned one, they train, and they practice, not kill many,” said Bucket Two from a nearby tree perch.

What is my plan? I need to lure another Lion Beast kin youth, try to connect with him and once again, ideally, he recognises me as his Mother. This need doesn’t make sense to me, some of my memories are gone, wiped and I am now driven by an urge, a quest to fulfil, one of my own design within my being, deep within my heart. I suffer anguish for a loss I can’t identify or remember.

Dusk falls and darkness envelops me and my daughters. Their campfire flickers and licks the air in the distance and I observe the older Lion Beast kin perch on a stone and speak, explaining the lessons of the day, the good done and the bad to learn from, with no derision. An excellent teacher. The young worship him and devour his every word while they consume some of their kill, the venison seared, splendid red flesh in the depth of the portion.

I wake First.

“I need sleep, wake me when one is on guard and the night is near done.”

“Mother?”

“Yes, I realise.” Requiring sleep is new and I suspect a human requirement.

+++

Bucket Two wakes me and then wakes First and Bucket One.

“A young one on watch Mother,” said Bucket Two.

“Wait perched.”

I commence my song tapping into his emotions and precious memories. The melody will discover his ultimate joy and his ultimate loss, one dominates, and he will seek the source to relive his joy or cure his loss. After a time, my new son steps slowly toward me, each step seems forced. Strong-willed.

I descend from my perch as he approaches and my wings remain unfurled and my embrace open, welcoming him into my bosom. He bleeds, my son bleeds, how?

His steel glints as he targets my heart, I wake slowly to the danger, flicking my torso to one side my mail armour flinging away, the sides parted, the keen blade penetrates my flesh, scoring across my ribs. I screech for many heartbeats in pain and surprise. His steel dagger stained with my reddish black blood moves to strike again in the heartbeats I wasted screaming.

I step back, my wings assist to propel me, his steel dagger point pricks my abdomen and no more. His body tenses, his turn for a surprise as his dagger withdraws. I draw my sword in one flowing motion and complete the arc to slice off his hand at the wrist and relish the spray of blood spurting from his wrist painting my torso.

“Fold your wings to protect your back Mother, we glide to ambush cowards,” sends First.

I straighten and do as my daughter instructs. The young one before me bends over and stumbles away screaming. Charging towards me the elder Lion Beast kin, his mane full and thick around his neck, his spear targeting my heart. Behind him, a young Lion Beast kin draws on his bow.

I smile, and dodge left, the elder needs to adjust his charge and the youngster needs to reposition as the elder now blocks his line of sight. Screeches and screams sound behind me, which I ignore, confident in the skills of my daughters at ambush. My wings envelop me, pleased when I discern the elder growling, a counter to my concern as my lifeblood oozes from the wound.

His skill, strength and weight are more than a match for my Sentient Dominate weakened body and wings. As his spear penetrates my wings, my feathers offering scant resistance I sweep my wings sideways, guiding the steel point harmlessly around my body. He follows through and slams his body into mine. Bones snap and crack while I stand firm and the elder rebounds off me landing on his derriere, his shock so complete, his reflexes fail to save him from the humiliation.

I unfurl my wings to discover two-thirds of my left-wing crumpled and crunched. The pain now registering as the fractured skeletal bones swing and scrape against each other. Sprouting from my left shoulder, an arrow, mail links parting to allow the arrowhead to reach my flesh, which I can do nothing about. My sword chases the elder as I stab with all my strength and skill, using my right wing to cover the attack and protect my body from the archer.

My sword point strikes the forest floor, penetrating countless layers of rotting leaves. The Lion Beast kin rolls away nursing his right arm his spear left behind. My instinct is to flight leap upon him and eviscerate him utilising my talons, instead, I lurch forward on my taloned legs wincing in pain as my left-wing ends drag behind me.

He rolls to his pawed feet and scrambles and then runs towards his camp. I rip my bow from my back, over my right wing, string it, raise an arrow to the bow with no target, he flees into the forest. My pain awakens me to my concerns, and I chase whimpering purring into undergrowth enduring the pain of my left-wing and shoulder arrow shaft catching.

I drag him out grasping his foot paw, his cat eyes wide, slitted pupils thin. I plunge my fist into his abdomen, his skin resists he lacks the strength to double over. I drag him to the resting place of his fallen dagger, unlocking it from the fingers of his severed hand, I raise it to slice his furred skin. His feeble attempts to resist quiet from blood loss, his strength fading. Familiar with the location my fist rips his liver from him, and I devour it, fresh, healthy and youthful.

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 50.0% Feline Essence Level 2.15}

{Attribute successfully absorbed: Vigour +10%, reduced to Vigour +2%, restricted by Feline Essence Level.}

My skin seals over my rib cage and my scored bones repair. With the subsequent pain relief, I remove the arrow, fortunately, the penetration, was merely arrowhead deep. Gingerly I fold my left wing before my body and then support it with my right wing.

The forest is quiet. A purring moan interrupts the silence. My kill still lives.

“He hasn’t run far Mother, he contemplates his next move perhaps,” sends Bucket Two.

My daughters! I slowly swivel around. One Lion Beast kin is lying on his back, eyes gouged out, throat slit. Another is lying on his stomach, eyes gouged out with Bucket One’s talons threatening his throat.

“Consume his liver Mother then I can feast upon him while you join First who will offer you another liver.”

Utilising the dagger to hand I slice my way to his liver while I squat on him to quell any protesting. I swallow the last morsel and Bucket One slices his throat in celebration. I stand, the shoulder wound closing, the bones of my left-wing struggle to reform before they mend.

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 50.0% Feline Essence Level 2.2}

{Attribute successfully absorbed: Vigour +10%, reduced to Vigour +2%, restricted by Feline Essence Level.}

“First where do you hold him?”

“We are on the other side of their camp Mother, he tried to run while blind and struck a tree.”

Nursing my wing I join First and like Bucket One she squats upon him, although her talons are harmlessly placed in the leaf layers of the forest floor. I add my weight to First’s and cut my way to his liver, waking him in the process. I devour the prize and First ends his panic.

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 50.0% Feline Essence Level 2.25}

{Attribute successfully absorbed: Vigour +10%, reduced to Vigour +2%, restricted by Feline Essence Level.}

The bones of my left-wing reform and commence their mending. When the healing is done, I unfold the wing without pain, as I stroke them in unison to propel myself skywards, a crack and pain. In anguish I fold both wings behind me resting them together, the pain fades.

“Bucket Two where is my kill, I can’t fly?”

“Follow the west game trail from camp Mother, I will meet you.”

---

“Is he trying to hide?”

“Not sure Mother, he hasn’t moved and his breathing is shallow, injured?”

---

Mid-morning, First and Bucket One join me in my vigil, they deliver one of the Lion Beast kin to me to devour. Bucket Two returned to their camp to feast and now joins us.

If I continue to weaken due to Sentient Dominate, I will need to wield a shield and improved armour, for now, I advance upon my kill, sword ready, conscious my left wing requires protection.

Slashing away the overgrowth, my efforts are certain to alert him. My daughters are holding a perimeter around his hiding place and will hinder any attempt to flee.

He makes no effort to flee, hate-filled eyes stare back at me as a dripple of blood drools from his mouth.

“What are you … and the … beasts which … serve you?” he growls with difficulty.

“I am Aphrodite and mother to my daughters, you are prey.”

“Why … prey?”

“Strong always hunt the weak.”

“I am not weak, you are lucky!” He lays back, face twisted after he yells.

His throat presents clearly and with a flick of my wrist, I snick the exposed artery in his neck. He is surprised, and I wonder why, I told him the strong hunt the weak. He struggles for breath as I harvest his liver and after I consume the delicacy he fights for his final breath and fails.

{Knowledge successfully transferred: Spear Level 8, reduced to Spear Level 7, restricted by Feline Essence Level.}

{Knowledge successfully transferred: Bow Level 8, reduced to Bow Level 7, restricted by Feline Essence Level.}

{Knowledge successfully transferred: Tracking Level 8, reduced to Tracking Level 2, restricted by Feline Essence Level.}

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 150.0% Feline Essence Level 3}

The strength in my left-wing returns, an excellent kill.

As I consume his tough old body, I extract one of my broken wing bones from his chest, lodged through his ribs and puncturing his lung. Huh!

Character Sheet: Aphrodite Name: Aphrodite Culture: Greek Mythos Race: Harpy Superior Spirit: Human Body: Living Basalt Soul: Dungeon Dominate Sentient Dominate: 52% Monster Dominate: 27% Dungeon Dominate: 65% Hominine Essence: Level 10 Avine Essence: Level 10 Dragon Essence: Level 0 Feline Essence: Level 3 Strength: 65 Grasp: 75 Toughness: 65 Constitution: 65 Vigour: 77 Endurance: 65 Dexterity: 85 Agility: 75 Quickness: 75 Wisdom: 75 Perception: 55 Mettle: 55 Intelligence: 50 Willpower: 75 Power: 75 Charisma: 50 Glamour: 50 Beauty: 100 Languages: Greek Kobold Orc Ogre Feline Gifts: Regeneration Prolific Fertility Shadow Hide Silent Step Spear: Level 7 Halberd: Level 1 Bow: Level 7 Sword: Level 15 Track: Level 2