“Mother, where now?” asks First.

Where now I ask myself … good question. My heart yearns for me to reunite with my adopted son, which I don’t know how to make happen and can’t remember why it needs to happen. I believe now, that he is beyond my reach. Accepting this conclusion – helps. My heartbeat steadies.

My need to find another is sated a fraction as I realise my adopted son shouldn’t be easily replaced otherwise where is his significance, where is his emotional value to me, his Mother. He is unique, he is my first son. I open my eyes and unfurl my wings, draw First to my bosom and my wings envelop us. In a mix of sadness, finally recognising First as my first child, my first daughter and of joy, able to embrace her, protect her as she protects me.

Instinctively I lift her to my breast, and she suckles on my teat, a mother and daughter bond established beyond flesh, bone and blood, my child is being nourished and fed from my body. What strength I possess she will acquire, why withhold this formative act of motherhood from her? I tear from remorse, I tear from thoughtlessness, and I tear from joy, fulfilling the promise of a mother for her child.

While First is light, I wish to lay down, the position a natural one for a feeding mother. First doesn’t detach or sense my change of position. My eyes shut. I am in bliss.

“Mother can I feed?” sends Bucket One.

I am unaware of time passing and Bucket One’s message wakens me. First has ‘fallen off’, sleeping soundly encapsulated within my arm and wing. I open my other arm and wing to welcome Bucket One who latches on and is wrapped and embraced.

Shortly after, First stirs until awake, gently stretching and I accept the hint and unfold my wing and unhand her. She casts me the brightest smile and takes flight, her talons firmly pushing off from my thighs as a goodbye.

Unsurprised, Bucket Two replaces First and begins her time at my breast. There is a sensation within my breasts as their demand is met as both “let down” more mother’s milk. They are gluttons and I cannot deny them, I am their Mother and I crave to feed them.

Bucket One unlatches and I observe her as she escapes my embrace and stumbles, her stomach bloated, and eyes clouded. She needs to rest, as First did before her when trying to venture forth. Eventually, she nests beneath the forest undergrowth and shuts her eyes.

“MOTHER!!!” sends First.

---Rufus POV

“They are gone!”

The shoving wakes me, while the whispering confuses me. Bleary eyes cause my swatting paw to miss the culprits responsible, forcing me to respond.

“Who is gone, what are you saying? It is still the black of night!” The words tumble from me as I finally gaze upon my messenger, Dilia.

“The Ogre wives and the Orc wives are gone. Some of their pathetic gear and stuff remains, but they are gone!”

“How and why didn’t you know?” I bark the question; my prizes have now fled! That had better not slip from my grasp.

“Brak hid downwind, and their scent didn’t move. Sheala listened upwind, they chatted uselessly amongst themselves, not louder or softer as if they were staying put.”

“No one watched them?”

Observing her disdain and derision I wave her away. As dawn approaches, we can uncover answers then, at least our eyesight could assist with the sun out, in the dark our eyes are – unhelpful.

“At first light track them, find out which way they went, understood!” I call after her.

She nods and continues her retreat towards the mountain.

“Fesser, you, and I will break camp and then prepare, full armour, they could run for only part of the night, and we have a whole day to catch up to them, I smell blood by day’s end!”

I toss some kindling onto the campfire to feed it, bring it to flame to cast more light into the false dawn.

---First POV

The beast kin mentioned to his female, Mother’s milk invigorated him, stronger, faster; confident! I am the same, flight doesn’t tire me as quickly, I land upon a branch and if my talons can wrap around it, I can sever it.

Landing near one of yesterday’s eaten out corpses I salvage its dagger and sheath. As a test, I try to mark the Lion Beast kin dagger with my own, nothing. Yet when I try the reverse my old dagger or knife is deeply scored. I throw my old knife into the undergrowth.

Their bow commands my interest, as tall as I, my left-hand claw on its grip, centred between the upper limb and lower limb, clawed fingers from my right-hand claw around the serving section of the string. I test to pull, satisfied as both lower and upper limbs bend back to my body.

Releasing the tension, I fumble around searching for the Lion Beast kin’s quiver of arrows. Fumbling since I didn’t comprehend and grasp the workings of a bow yesterday and I am excited now at the prospect. The male kobolds used them and commonly left them where any could find and practice with them. This new knowledge though provides enlightenment and adeptness.

As quickly as I could, I nock an arrow and released it, then another, after five releases my grouping of the arrows prove my skill. Recovering the released arrows, I quickly gather the other daggers, bows and quivers for my sisters. I returned to where Mother fed Bucket One and Bucket Two, placing two bows, two quivers and two daggers in the branches of a nearby tree.

Unarmed I returned to another youth kill from yesterday, the distance short, I still flew and glided under the forest canopy over the game trail where the foliage of the huge trees met.

On approach to the site of the two cowards, their weapons now strung up in the tree overlooking Mother, I powered and flapped my wings to halt and hover. Below me, bent over one of the carcasses, I focused on a large well maned Lion Beast kin. As he rose, I called to him in song, Mother’s Milk coursing through me, my confidence high. I cast away the coward’s thought of fleeing, where one walked, others beast kin would follow or accompany them.

Facing me, his furry face relaxes enjoying blissful happiness and I summon him to me. Time passes slowly, and a nervous feeling to lose my water grips me, therefore I clench so I don’t disturb the serenity of the moment. The forest seems hushed, a falsehood of my mind certainly as I concentrate on the here and now to the exclusion of all else, including the noises of the forest.

I lower myself to the forest floor, favouring one side of the game trail and my song lures him to within touching range, I need him closer. Approaching me he seems oblivious to the wind buffet from my wings, which is fortunate as my height is half of his thus to kiss him, I need to hover.

My hands, claws extended, reach out to surround his head, my leathery, feathered head leans in to bring my lips into contact with his.

“One with Forest! One with Forest! Run! Run!”

His eyes open wider and then my lips are upon his, with my clawed hands cradling his head in place. Forcing his maw apart, my long thin tongue dances upon his and then slurps around his teeth and gums. A hum of contentment purrs from his nostrils.

“One with Forest?” His saviour’s voice went from alert to questioning and then a whine of dismay.

Should I wound, or should I kill? If I kill there is one less enemy, one less threat. If I wound, Mother can claim the kill, and another will need to care for him, possibly two threats removed, although one or both could escape.

“Soaring Falcon and Shouts at Danger, hurry!”

I glimpse past One with Forest’s furred ears; the other Beast kin is creeping towards his kin.

I drag my clawed hands forward and position my clawed thumbs over his eyes. Withdrawing my tongue my clawed hands strike, three fingers gouge into his ears and whiskered cheeks while I drive with my thumbs with newly gifted strength deep into his eyes, intent on plucking them out.

He reacts swifter than the youths, fortunately, his action is to push me away. I am grateful none try to seize me, even the youths would capture me with their strength. My wings assist his push and I rejoice as an eyeball is speared upon each thumb claw. I strain my muscles to propel my wings, turning in mid-flight to retreat along the game trail, favouring the side of the Beast kin’s body to provide cover from my pursuer’s archery.

Spying a gap in the foliage I glide into it and roost on a high branch. I call to Mother and listen for pursuit. My view of the game trail is obscured by the same trees, branches, and leaves that keep me hidden and safe.

---Rufus POV

Brak poked through the camp refuse with his spear. Sheala scanned to the west, possibly lamenting joining me on this mission as if I care! The strangest of them, Dilia. Busy scanning and touching the shiny black mountain wall.

“That is one strange thing!” uttered Fesser taking in the view of the mountainside.

The mountainside extends for as far as a Dog Beast kin could see to the East, smooth, black, and shiny. The black wall rises above us, beyond my sight as well. It is like a giant sword swung down and cleaved off the side of the mountain flush and smooth. The most likely cause or possibly due to the power of a Dungeon. Yet to the West after a useful distance, the mountain edged onto the forest plain like any other, gradual incline, occasional hill, or rough rock. From the shiny mountain face to the edge of the forest, a finely ground dust, flatter than the best road in the Three Clans territory.

“This can only mean a Dungeon.” Fesser’s words contained inner reflection and reverence and I slapped him on his back.

“I agree, history and our fame await!”

“I am not so sure, although willing to find out.” His dumb puppy grin greets me as we join Dilia at the wall face.

As our shadows encroach upon her, she visibly tenses and turns to meet us.

“Report.”

“The Ogre and Orc wives stepped from their camp onto something.” She hurried back to a location between their camp and the wall. The earlier she reported, the quicker we would leave her alone is her thinking, perhaps.

“Studying the wall reveals etchings, these are squares or rectangles. I thought they were building blocks, there is no gap, there is no mortar though.”

“The wall is too smooth to climb, yet they stepped onto something?” I query.

“Yes, although I saved the best for last.” She removes her leather gauntlet and places her naked paw against one of the ‘blocks’.

Words are written as we observe, the letters or marks tumble and eventually after completion they reform into the words of our language!

“That’s a riddle!” says Fesser, his jaw slack.

“Yes, and the same riddle doesn’t always remain with the same block, still they take time to display a different one. Amazing!” shouts Dilia, clapping her paws.

“This isn’t a game, and we are hunting remember.” I force my muzzle close to hers.

“Solve the riddles, find the prey?” she squeaks.

“Bring back the one you showed us first,” I ask, calmly or near as I can muster.

One sits down, never to rise. One eats as much is fed to him yet is always hungry. One goes away and never returns. Name the three.

“It makes no sense or meaning!” growls Fesser, not concealing his limitations.

“I am certain it won’t be solved with a swing of the sword,” replies our scout.

I stare at Dilia and resist the urge to bash her and instead issue an edict.

“In that case advise me when you solve it, Fesser and I will await your success in the cooler eaves of the forest.”

---Dilia POV

Good riddance I reckon to myself, unfortunately, riddles usually require many in a team to solve. I yip to call Brak and Sheala to me and await their arrival while thinking upon the riddle some more.

There are three things or answers, so are they connected or unrelated?

“Why are you leaning against the wall?”

Peering over my shoulder. “The riddle will fade if I don’t keep pressing my flesh against the wall.”

“Let it go, riddles are difficult enough when you need to provide one answer! My grandfather loves this stuff and that would be his advice,” says Sheala.

Shrugging I remove my palms and shortly after the words fade. I step along to another section of the wall and place my hands again.

“What are we doing?” asks Brak.

“Solving a puzzle if the letters stop!” replies Sheala.

“Do we want to? I thought you were against this side trip and all about the ancient town?”

The riddle emerges interrupting our conversation.

What has an eye but cannot see?

“Easy, sewing needle. The number of times I threaded them for my grandmother!” responds Sheala.

“Yes, a sewing needle!” I would hug Sheala if I didn’t need to lean against this black stone wall.

Nothing happened for several heartbeats. Then an excited shout!

“Lookup, a block has been outlined, another riddle, answer another riddle!” shouts Rufus.

“Ah yes, wonderful, how he cheers us on!”

“Them sitting away at a distance proved useful,” says Brak, grinning as he slapped my back playfully.

“Another riddle then.” I lean against another block.

“So why are we doing this?” asks Sheala this time around.

“I doubt he would allow us to leave and if we could at least humour him while retrieving information valuable to the Meeting, we may be excused for our side trip.”

“Good point. Let’s do this,” replies Brak.

What grows bigger the more you take from it?

The morning stretches. Mostly silence, the occasional guess and then I observe our leader and his accomplice sleeping.

“Hey, Mutt!” I yell for all my worth. I need to call several times and eventually, the insult wakes him.

“What grows bigger the more you take from it?” I shout at him.

“A hole, I’ve dug enough latrines in my time to know that one! Then you fill them of course!”

I hear their laughter and back-slapping.

“A hole,” offers Sheala. Nothing.

“You see anything change fearless leader?” calls Brak.

“Nope and the answer isn’t wrong!”

“You say it Dilia,” suggests Sheala.

“Yes, makes sense that the one holding the riddle stone, needs to say the answer,” says Brak.

“A hole,” I announce.

A thunderous, cracking, and scraping sound echoes out from the wall. The three of us step back bravely and then sprint away fearful. Rufus and Fesser stand and gaze at the wall.

Blocks of stone jut out of the black shiny wall, from the top and the bottom. The final stairs don’t reach the top of the mountain wall, they reach the outlined block, still high up the face of the wall.

Rufus and Fesser grab their gear and sprint to the stairs. I check with Brak and Sheala and we approach at a more leisurely pace and with greater caution. We reach the bottom stair, slightly off the ground, which explains how the wives' tracks easily vanished. Rufus and Fesser are at the top step banging at the outlined rock, which I assume, they determined before me is the doorway.

“Another riddle. Check if another is offered and answer it!” shouts Rufus, our wise and fearless leader.

I shrug and lean against a stone block near the bottom step of the stairs. The steps, blocks of stone originating from the wall, solid and sure. With the day approaching the afternoon I regret not choosing a block under the stairs to at least shelter beneath the stairs for shade! Hearing Brak and Sheala growl I lift my head to read the riddle.

What can be as large as you and yet doesn’t weigh anything?

“Anyone, anything?” I ask, desperate. The afternoon is upon us, and I glance jealously at the shade under the stairs. We shout the riddle to Rufus and our reward, silence.

“Try another!” shouts Rufus.

I lift one arm away and notice my shadow. I check Brak and Sheala’s shadows, they outline them perfectly, and the position of the sun would change them of course, still. I place my hand back.

“Didn’t he say to try another?” asks Brak.

“My Shadow,” I answer. Nothing.

Then yapping and yipping from the top of the stairs.

“It’s unlocked and with both of us against the door, it is opening! Get up here!” shouts Rufus.

When we arrive, Rufus and Fesser are gone, disappearing into the wall. Opening the door means pushing it into the Dungeon. The afternoon sun glances off the gloss black stone and casts a shadow in the wall recess.

Walking up behind them they act as would two young pups, yipping and howling, swearing about how they conquered the door. Then a click and the stone door doesn’t budge a finger’s width!

“Stand back you, we made progress until you appeared, the riddle finder must stand back!”

His insane rambling suits me. I shrug at Brak and Sheala, step to the rear, in the shadow of the entrance and allow Brak and Sheala to wait in front of me, the next to go forward. When nothing more happens, I am about to call him names and push forward; then the door descends.

Rufus is either brave or stupid as he eagerly steps on the former door, now a platform. By the time I reach the platform my four companions are climbing down a set of stairs. An inside duplicate of what we climbed to get here. The inside stairs deployed silently, and I wondered if they were another set of stairs or our outside set, now used inside and hence leaving no path to retreat. If I survive this madness, my advice for the next party, bring rope! I swear to myself, never to return.

---Aphrodite POV

“Yes First?”

“Mother, there are Beast kin hunters on the game trail. I blinded one to delay them – why didn’t you answer?”

“I am sorry First, when your sisters feed, they send me into a delirious peace. I am trying to rouse Bucket Two now.”

“Before the hunters arrived, I placed a dagger and bow for each of them in the tree overlooking you Mother, they belonged to the young hunters and are better than ours and since drinking your milk we can wield them well enough.”

Bucket Two stands in a daze beside me and I assist her to sit. I then search for Bucket One in the undergrowth and oddly she is crawling out to meet me and grabs me around my neck.

“I am strong and great now Mother!”

“Hunters are upon us, fly up into the trees, First has left you a dagger and a bow, make ready with both.” I back out and she follows and then flies up. I wait for her to settle and mark the branch in my memory.

I grab Bucket Two in my arms, she helps by wrapping her arms around my neck and I push off straining my muscles and my wings to lift her, cursing her bloated belly! I perch in the tree on a branch opposite Bucket One and with motherly reluctance unwrap Bucket Two from me. She realises where she is now and grips the branch with her talons.

With gentle words, I say, “First has left you a dagger and a bow, ready them and I will call you when I need your service.”

“First, any follow you?”

“No Mother, I’ve seen four, one now blinded, and none followed me back along the game trail. I haven’t heard any chatter either.”

“Return First, be careful, stay low to the treetops.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Bucket One scout the game trail, stay in the tree branches and report when you spy them.”

“Yes, Mother.”

I appraise the dopey Karpy beside me. Bucket Two is still recovering therefore I will leave her be for now and wait as I can’t leave her with hunters on the game trail.

“First?” I call her as I am concerned too much time has passed.

“Mother, I manoeuvre my way towards you. Black-furred Beast kin approach using a different game trail, they will pass by shortly and I am sure any noise will attract them. They aren’t hunting, they are moving fast searching and so I need to make sure I don’t attract them. There are others, I heard them, haven’t seen them, Mother.”

“Be careful daughter.”

I didn’t receive a reply increasing my worry.

“Mother, they are five and finished wrapping bandages around the head of one of them and are now following the game trail as a group, one inspects the corpses we left, while the others scan the forest.”

“Daughter, can you pollute the carcass beyond their camp, the one who ran into the tree? With absolute safety?”

“Yes, I need to leave now.”

Silence. No responses from either of my daughters and then a leathery hand rubs mine. A sharp tooth grin greets me as I rotate to locate my caring assailant.

“I am ready to hunt, Mother!”

“Check my kill for his dagger and bow then return.”

She glides down to the corpse while I scan the game trail in both directions, my bow ready. I cut my talons into the branch beneath them to secure my perch.

Upon her return I consider her recovered, she hangs the dagger and bow on a higher branch and then returns to my side.

“I am done Mother, two vomited upon turning the carcass over and discovering my gift!” sends Bucket One.

“When safe to do so, leave a gift in the two dead they’ve inspected.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“First?” I tentatively try to contact her.

I wait. I try to tell myself everything will be alright, trying to calm my heartbeat.

“Bucket Two, carefully scout further along the game trail and return, be aware First has spotted new prey, black fur Beast kin.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Mother, I counted over twelve black furs, two started jogging up the Lion Beast kin game trail and then turned back.”

“Carefully return, a dagger and bow wait for you.”

“Bucket Two, you reached an intersecting game trail as yet?”

“No, Mother.”

“Pollute the trail where you are, the ground, the trees nearby, ensure no step is possible without your excrement painting them, understand daughter.”

“Yes Mother, I retain plenty in my bowls to share!”

We need to kill these new witnesses and I would welcome the Feline Essence. I am confident both ends of their game trail are now sealed from others. My curiosity though is piqued, what are the black furs searching for?

“First have you seen any single black furs perhaps, running or trying to hide? Any other Beast kin?”