Unity. We tried to hold on but we lost it. Without unity we are nothing, without unity our abilities are bound.

Now we are separate. Mistrusting. Even among the surviving our bonds are broken, disconnected. It has crumbled with the blow of death crushing us into the bloody mud.

We are lost to fear. Fear of that which we will certainly lose. We must push forward. To lose someone in the future does not preclude investing in them now.

We will never thrive again until we learn harmony. With each other and ourselves.

-Doc. Date unsure.

Notes: I’ve held on as long as I can. Days of lucidity grow fewer. Time is running out.

LESEDI:

An unimaginable wall of rock looms before us, the rising moonlight glimmers from the hard face. The blush colors of sunset are gone and the cold blue rays are fading fast. The smooth hardstone reaches as far as we can see in either direction. This doesn’t look like a natural formation, it’s too uniform. It’s not a cliff formed via geological conditions, it’s a wall. There is only one reason why walls are built.

This wall reaches high into the sky, taller than any that protects the cities. It must have been built before The Poisoning by our ancestors. The question is, what were they trying to keep out? Or in. The scale of this construction is so immense it’s difficult to comprehend. A foreboding feeling sticks in my stomach like a rock, a feeling that warns of danger here. A voice tells me to turn back, turn back before it’s too late.

But, crossing the Valley of Sand is our only workable option. To the west is ocean, nightstalkers don’t swim. To the east is Evos, no way to cross through with the nightstalkers. The wall stretches all the way between, this is the only way to move forwards keeping the pack intact. To go through what has been marked on every map as a dark square, a void of nothingness no one has ever entered.

I look down at the map we’ve navigated by, there’s no telling how far across this valley is. All anyone knows is on the other side is the Srexi forest. There is no way of knowing what lives within the confines of those massive walls. I have read no books to prepare me. No surveys, no documents, there is nothing. Information is power and in this respect I am powerless.

Before they can mount their zigon I approach Talea and Othin, wrapped around each other in a passionate kiss. I cough to make my presence known but they don’t hear me. I tap Talea on the shoulder, she still ignores me. Losing my patience, I stand on my tip toes and flick my sister in the tender part of her ear. She flinches, pulls back, and gives Othin a soft peck on the lips before giving me her attention. Othin’s long arms grip her tiny waist, she’s so thin now, almost all that remains of her is wiry muscle.

Talea smiles and sighs with contentment. “Yes Lesedi?”

I assume a cold expression not wanting to trigger her. “I need to talk to you about this valley.”

She nestles her back up against Othin. The knot locks hang in cords around her ribs. She smiles. “What about it?”

I clench my fists to fight against my nervousness. “I know it’s crucial we cross this valley. That being said, we know nothing about what’s in there.”

She smirks. “It’s called the Valley of Sand. I’m pretty sure what’s in it.”

I shoot her a frustrated glare. “It’s called that because in theology sand represents nothing. The belief that Father Sky left sand without life in it to remind us of the void from which darkness springs. The name means Valley of Nothing, because that’s how much we know about it. Nothing.” I take in a sharp breath and wave my right hand. “I digress. The point is we don’t know what dangers are in there. It’s crucial in my opinion we cross it as quick as possible to avoid any unforeseen threats. We should travel during the day as well as night. Especially since the days are becoming longer again.”

Othin tilts his head with curiosity. His arms tighten around Talea in instinct. “What dangers do you see?”

I gesture towards the zigon. “I’m not sure. My primary concerns are animals and carnivorous plants. Our zigons make a lot of noise. If anything is sound sensitive, we would alert it to our presence. If we sleep during the day, we’re vulnerable and unable to move if attacked. The plains have been comparatively benign, but we’re stepping into a hazard zone.”

Talea crosses her arms, a defensive gesture that almost always is a precursor to fighting, I tense in preparation. She pulls away from Othin in silence and looks towards the wall that reaches into the dusk breaking twilight. Her eyes draw down in thought as she reaches up and grips the base of her locks in contemplation. Her skinny fingers trail down the rolled knots while her mind reflects. I’m not fond of them, but they do suit her. It’s like they reflect who she’s been on the inside this whole time.

I look again at Talea’s thinning frame and dark circles forming under her bright eyes, she needs more sleep. She’s restless and anxious, she doesn’t sleep well as it is and I worry for her. She has too much responsibility on her shoulders and doesn’t think I noticed she takes more watch shifts than the others. I know she worries; I know she has nightmares, maybe it’s not the lives of the world she worries for so much as it’s our family. If anything happened to them in response to her decisions it could break her. That is, if anything can break her. Talea’s endless will and determination is what makes her such a powerful force. It’s the only reason there’s even a small probability this endeavor can work.

Talea looks up and nods with silent respect. She’s changed so much. “I understand. We fail if we die. But we also need to be strong if there comes a fight.” She looks around at our pack she’s grown so fond of in the past months. They’ve become her second family; it was hard enough losing two of them and she refuses to lose any more. Talea turns towards me and in this moment, I see Tu’kari. “We will have a late start tonight and journey into the day tomorrow. We will stop and rest for six hours before dusk and then start again. That is all I can give you.”

I nod with gratitude. “That’s fine. It gives us most of a day for extra travel. Will the nightstalkers be alright?”

She smiles with pride. “Why do you think I’ve had them on day sentry shifts? Their heads might hurt but they’ll be ok.”

Echo saunters over and pats Talea on the shoulder. “If it helps, I can keep watch during the day rest. That way our best fighters can sleep. That means you, oh powerful and wise Tu’kari.” She gives a mocking bow which Talea responds to with a swift kick to the shin.

“Your kindness is enduring.” Echo smirks and walks away laughing as if the kick was little more than a kiss.

My sister points towards her micro-clan of nightstalkers and calls out with authority and confidence. “We do not break camp yet. Moonrunners go hunt, kill and gather everything you can carry. Tonight, we feast first, make ourselves strong.” She pauses and nods without turning her eyes away. “Yes Echo, you can go too.”

There’s a cheering call of approval from the pack of unstable creatures. I still shudder hearing the hunter screams, it’s even more unsettling when you see it for yourself. Echo leaps off with the hunters as Meekala and her tap elbows and Kr’thitch pats her on the back. Like Talea, she’s been accepted in full into this team of killers. It feels like I’m the only one that hasn’t found a place.

Talea commands Viko to her side with a wordless hand sign. She whispers something into Viko’s ear and sends her off.

I frown with curiosity. “What was that?”

A mischievous smile overcomes her. “You will see.”

✽✽✽

TALEA:

The fire crackles and sends sparks floating into the air. The mother tree forest sprawls around us, it pains Lesedi to watch parts of it burn, but it makes good firewood. At least we had managed to find a dead tree that had fallen ages ago, that helps. It’s a beautiful bright white wood, I bet Trigan could do wonderful things with it. Carved meat skewered on sharpened sticks cooks over the orange heat. Grease sweats and drips into the flames. The intoxicating smell wafts through the pack enraging our appetites. But they stay patient on my command, my pack does not eat raw meat, I draw the line there. It seems arbitrary but it’s for Lesedi. This trip is already uncomfortable enough for her, she doesn’t need to see excessive savagery.

Pin points of stars sparkle in the dark sky, a sight I will never grow tired of. Swirling shades of blue and violet twist among the lights like dust in the wind. Lesedi sits on the dry ground holding her arms close to her body. That could be either from chill or defense, I’m not sure. I’m not as good at reading people as she is, though I can feel that she’s nervous. More so than usual. I crouch down by her and wrap my arms around her shoulders. She turns to glance at me with a weak smile and unsure eyes. She’s afraid and trying not to let it show.

She turns back to stare at the flames. “Why the feast?”

I shrug even though she isn’t watching me. “We need our strength. We’ve been running hard and everyone’s gotten skinny.”

She rolls her eyes. “They’re nightstalkers. They’re always skinny.”

I chuckle and reach over to pick up a wood splinter and throw it into the fire. “Fair enough.”

“It’s because we’re going to die isn’t it?” Lesedi holds herself tighter. “One last hurrah so at least we go out with a happy memory.”

I lean back to sit on the ground with my right elbow on my knee. “You’re not going to die. That I will always make sure of.”

Lesedi looks back towards me with a face full of seriousness and worry. She cranes her head to point to the crew of nightstalkers forming a circle around the campfire. “What about them?”

My chest tightens like I’ve been punched in the gut. My breath catches. I look around at the faces that have become so familiar to me, have become family to me. The faces of Vrx and Thrik come to my mind and for a moment I can’t breathe. They were quiet and kept their distance, but they were part of us. Losing them was crushing. I look around at my dysfunctional new family and I love each and every one of them. To lose even one would break my heart.

I push those thoughts to the dark corners of my mind and focus on tonight. A meal together to unify us and give us strength for what’s coming.

To give me strength for what’s coming.

✽✽✽

LESEDI:

Talea holds her pointer finger out to the pack with sternness. They look savage with hunger. The piles of meat they caught are ready for consumption and they know it. I’m surprised they were able to find so much food, when lune ends the animals sure spring back fast.

My stomach churns while I prepare myself for another night of eating meat. I don’t think I can handle it anymore. Aside from the disgusting aspects of it that I try hard not to think of, it tastes appalling. But it’s kept me alive so I don’t have the right to get picky. I miss the dinners Wren and I would cook together, with the destructive “help” of Zoey. I can almost smell the delicious fruity desserts and vegetable pies. The spices and herbs would marinate in the skillet and fill the house with an aroma so amazing it could make us drool.

It’s only been a couple months, but it feels so much longer. My heart aches for them, my family. I miss them so much it feels like physical pain pulling on my body. I’m not like Talea, or Echo, I belonged there. Not here.

I jolt from my thoughts when Talea pats my shoulder with a beaming smile. She looks at me with excitement that can’t be contained. She sucks her lips in as if the words will burst from her without warning. What is she planning?

Before beginning the feast, she spreads her arms wide and addresses the pack. “Strength to the Moon Mother!” The response is a combination of clapping, screaming, and hooting. She continues “Tonight my moonrunners, we feast on the glorious kill you’ve brought us. Tonight, we strengthen ourselves for the fight to come!”

More screaming and hooting with approval. I look around to see faces filled with malevolent glee. From Talea I can feel an overwhelming sense of pride and confidence. It reminds me of when we feel powerful emotions from Othin and the others. She’s always been able to attune to their emotions with a natural ability, but now she’s learned how to project with the power that they do. She’s learning their language, if you can call it that. From her words I can even almost see a vision of battle and victory. No wonder she’s garnered so much respect from this pack. She’s a creature of instinct like them, born for this life like they are.

Talea nods to Meekala, the nightstalker thrusts a branch into the fire shoving over a large flat stone sitting at the edge of the flames. They made a makeshift oven; I wonder whose clever idea that was. With another stick, this one sharpened, she stabs at something underneath. As she raises it from the coals my heart jumps.

I put my hand to my chest and gasp. “Oovak bulbs!”

Three roasted oovak bulbs are skewered on the sharpened branch. Talea nods to Meekala and takes it from her. She turns towards me with a grin so large I can see her teeth. “I know you’ve missed home. So, I sent Viko and Daku out to get these for you.” I’m speechless. She pats me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t that hard. These forests are full of oovak, way more than home.”

My eyes well up with tears. “Talea I-” I pause struggling to find the words. “Thank you! I don’t know what to say.”

“Say we can eat!” Kr’thitch calls out from across the fire, his head twitching with excitement.

A low wave of laughter sifts through the camp. Talea nods. “You may eat.” She raises her right arm with her palm outwards making a stop hand sign. “Slow. You may eat slow.”

Instead of pouncing on the food like starving animals the nightstalkers bend to Talea’s will. A cloud of authority emanates from her. Confidence I didn’t know she had. Within her is a well of power and will of endless potential. In a short time, she’s gone from being the bottom of the ranking to being a real leader. They even look to her first instead of Othin now.

Talea nods to Othin and he begins portioning out the large chunks of meat from the carcasses. Each one sits down by the fire trying to tear at the meat with delicate motions and eat it with dignity. I know Talea’s making them do this for my sake. If I weren’t here, they would have leapt on it like carrion eaters. But I appreciate the pretense of a social meal. In forcing them to slow down they even start chatting among each other, it almost feels like a dinner at home. Which I now sense is what she intended in the first place. Maybe Talea needs this as much as I do.

A body plunks down beside me and Talea holds sliced oovak buds on a flat stone. It’s still warm from the fire. After living on meat for far too long the oovak buds are tantalizing enough to make my mouth water. With my hands almost shaking from excitement I take a bite. The warm savory bite explodes with salty juice in my mouth. I roll my eyes back with bliss from the complex flavors.

Talea takes a bite of oovak and pauses pondering. She looks to her right. “Meekala, you caught hort didn’t you?”

She nods as her head full of braids swishes, though they’re not as tidy as they once were. I wish Talea had envied Meekala’s hair, the braids give her an elegance without taking away her edge of danger. I sigh, I promised I would accept my sister as she is. Not expect her to be my version of her. So, I will. I smile, she’s still the most beautiful person I know.

With a sly grin Talea takes a chunk of hort from Meekala and bites into it. After swallowing she starts laughing. I frown without understanding. “What’s so funny?”

She points to the oovak bites and takes a breath between chuckles. “They taste the same!”

My eyes widen. “What?”

A chunk of hort meat appears in front of my face with the backdrop of Talea’s smile. “Here, see for yourself.”

I shake my head. “No! Why would I eat that when I have oovak?” Hort are fat birds that waddle around the forest floor only to be gobbled up by oovaks or banyas. Thus far I’ve avoided needing to eat them, and after all the zigon and yar meat I would rather keep it that way.

She shoots me an expression of frustration. “Come on. One bite. So, you can see what I’m talking about.”

I notice the intrigued eyes of the nightstalkers boring into me. All of them excited and curious about what I’ll do next. I freeze with inaction. Aside from administering medical attention I’ve put little effort into cultivating relationships with any of them. Though I am fond of Meekala. I might be snobbish but I don’t see how I can form a connection with them, I can’t even understand what half of them are talking about.

Gi’mntat scoots towards me with a hand full of hort. He smiles with lips closed; he’s noticed nightstalker teeth still startle me. His eyes soften along with his voice. “I will eat your plant if you try.”

My face softens. Nightstalkers feel as strong about not eating plants as skysingers do about not eating meat. They see plants as weak food because you don’t need to fight to get it, it’s beneath them. Not to mention he’s willing to give plants another try after forcing down the admittedly distasteful mushrooms.

I let out a yielding sigh. “Fine. Fine.” To a chorus of screeching I take a piece of flesh from Talea’s plate and pop it into my mouth. Without hesitation Gi’mntat takes a piece of oovak. He eats a whole slice in one bite and smiles. I nod and break into a fit of laughter. “It does taste the same!”

Gi’mntat smiles and giggles, I assume that’s what it is for a nightstalker. It’s a series of short high-pitched squeals in rapid progression. It’s startling, but sweet in context. I feel myself thawing a little. I can see what Talea loves about them. Nightstalkers are all surface, what they feel is out in the open. That might be in part due to their hampered language skills. There’s no hiding or deceit, they can’t even lie. Which I don’t think is a cultural thing, it seems more like their brains can’t wrap themselves around the concept. They are who they are, take it or leave it. Or kill it.

Except for one I can think of. There is one nightstalker that hasn’t joined our fire. One pair of glowing red eyes I can see in the darkness beyond the orange light. Rala. Lurking in the shadows, watching and waiting. I’m not sure what for but my guess is an opportunity.

She is a predator, and we are her prey.

✽✽✽

TALEA:

Lesedi leans back on her elbows with a face full of contentment. She ate an entire oovak bud by herself, they vary in size but hers was as big as her head. She smiles with peace as she looks around the group, amazing the difference a small comfort from home can make.

I grin as I turn back to the group sucking every last bit of flesh from a leg bone. “Alright, we’ve told you our sad little story. We heard about Viko and Daku’s escape from Razorbone territory. Impressive by the way.”

Daku shrugs and Viko smirks. “Razorbones die. Die easily if want the kill. Want the we did kill the sleeping. Started with father.”

Lesedi’s peace is disrupted for a moment with a shudder. The twins unsettle her the most, I find them the most endearing. I can understand Viko’s slang with ease whereas Lesedi takes a minute to process her broken words. I can even infer most of what Daku’s glances and expressions mean, I can feel her meaning without needing Viko’s words. I feel connected to the dual psychopaths like a dysfunctional extended family.

Their story helped Lesedi be less hard on them, I think. It’s not tragic or complicated, by nightstalker standards. I had to do a lot of translating for my sister, which she might have regretted asking me to do. The twins are half Razorbone. It happens sometimes, especially with the more unstable elements of the Blood Bane clan. After they were born their father killed their mother and stole them away. We don’t know why, but who knows why nightstalkers do the things they do? Razorbone are the most deranged of the unstable. When they were six, they think, they escaped and swore allegiance to Wikon. It makes sense why they’re out here; they know the enemy like none of us can.

I turn my gaze across the fire. “Who else? What stories do you have?”

Kr’thitch twitches as his wild hair brushes back and forth. It reminds me of moongrass the way it sticks straight up. The black claw in his ear glints with orange light. “I have story for Tu’kari.”

I smile, he doesn’t talk much. It’s good to see him participate. “Good Kr’thitch. Tell us.”

He sucks the last flesh off a bone and chucks it into the fire. A half smile pulls up the left side of his mouth in an unnatural way while the muscles in his face twitch. “My first kill was at twelve years alive. My legs strong, fast. So fast nobody see.” His eyes light up with glee. “I take things. Nobody sees where they go.”

Echo snorts with a grin of approval. “You’re a thief. Ha!” Lesedi elbows her in the side and she glares.

Kr’thitch tilts his head to the right as one eye dances with rapid blinking. I’ve come to know this as his thinking face. “I take things. Yes. The word, the word.” He pauses for a moment humming to himself until his eyes widen with a cheek twitch. “Parents! Parents lost challenges. I take things to my bloodling Te’ret.” He rolls his shoulders and leaps to his feet. “Ze’ret saw me grow. Grow faster and stronger. So Ze’ret challenged.”

Lesedi gasps. “Your brother challenged you in the arena? After you took care of him?” Her eyes widen with horror.

Kr’thitch nods. “Yes, little half-moon. But no worries.” His smile comes back in full force. His legs bounce as he creeps around the campfire behind the backs of the pack. “Ze’ret was big, strong, but slow. He come to grab me, but I dodge.”

He leaps into reenacting the fight. The orange firelight on his gray skin makes him look like a fighting spirit. His hair swishes as he dodges to the left and to the right. He mimes his brother sweeping his claws at the opponent, he screams and arches his back. He turns and pulls his vest half way off and points to four scraggly scars down his left shoulder blade.

The rest of the group is entertained. Nothing invigorates them like a fight, even if it’s a memory. Low hoots whoop while Kr’thitch moves in wild motions, as the “fight” progresses the noises get louder. I stifle a chuckle, they’re cheering Kr’thitch on. He’s here, we all know what happens. He almost looks like he’s dancing on his feet as he dodges imaginary blows. With a sudden change he drops to the ground and the audience gasps. He pulls at his hair and acts like he’s banging his head into the ground, over and over. After dozens of head slams, he looks up at us and tickles his fingers along his face, blood. He smiles at our concerned faces.

He elbows the imaginary foe and stumbles away looking dizzy and disoriented. In a blink he hops back to being the enemy and raises his claws ready to strike a finishing blow. Then he bounces again back to being Kr’thitch. He charges forwards, drops to his knees, and slides underneath his brother. Propping back up onto his toes he turns and thrusts his claws into the enemy. He points to his neck and collapses to the ground.

After many more cheers of approval he stands up and points to his ear. “This is his claw. My story. I won.”

I look over to Lesedi who now sits among troubled thoughts. Tears mist her eyes as she struggles with an inner turmoil. She looks like she wants to, needs to, say something. I reach out with my arms and make a silence signal. The pack quiets and I nod to Lesedi.

“Have you been alone ever since?” She asks with genuine concern.

He frowns and tilts his head, confused like he’s never considered this a problem before. “All moonrunners alone.”

Lesedi shakes her head. “No. No they shouldn’t be.” Her voice quiets and she takes a deep breath to firm her resolve. With quiet and careful steps, she moves from her place around the fire to Kit’thitch. He raises one eyebrow in puzzlement as his left shoulder jerks.

Thus far she hasn’t interacted with the nightstalkers any more than she’s had to. She still sees them as monsters, I think. She still has problems with her fear, afraid they’ll turn on us or I’ll become one of them. But something I hope she’s starting to realize is there can no longer be them or us. There must be we. We cannot do anything if we don’t change our perspective and be a team. This I know for sure.

She kneels on the warm ground by the twitching nightstalker. He glances towards me unsure of what to do, I smile and give a slow nod. I push outwards with the feeling of togetherness. I can see his confusion intensify but he stays still. Lesedi’s hands are shaking, but she closes her eyes and stills herself. Upon opening them she takes Kr’thitch’s hands in hers. He doesn’t know how to respond to the touch so he lets his hands go dead limp.

She smiles and holds his hands with so much softness I don’t know if he can feel it. “No one should be alone. Moonrunners or daypeople.” She swallows hard and looks into his blazing red eyes. “Do you know what it is to have a friend?”

He tilts his head again with his thinking face. At times he’s reminded me of a bird, his poof of white resembling feathers more than hair. His white eyebrows frown with a lack of understanding.

Lesedi pats his hand. “A friend is a person who cares about you more than themselves. Someone who will never hurt you. Who fights for you, not against you.”

Kr’thitch bites his lip and squints his eyes to process this new information. He looks towards me again with wide eyes then back to Lesedi. I have to suppress a giggle at his pitiful befuddlement. “Little halfmoon fights for Kr’thitch?”

She nods. “I will. If you’ll be my friend.”

He nods. “Yes. Friend.” He tests the new word with a low hum.

My sister smiles with teary eyes. “Good.” She inhales a steadying breath. “Now you’re not alone. You have friends.” She pauses to look around her and gestures to the entire group. “You have us.”

Kr’thitch gives another twitching smile and nods his head in thanks. Then a round of screams and hollers howl into the air in agreement. Lesedi wipes at her eyes and lets out a nervous laugh. She accepted them, or at least she’s started to.

I hear the group muttering the word “friend” under their breaths as they take in the new idea. I can feel a powerful new feeling emanate from all of them, trust. Lesedi pushes herself to move through the group and sit down with each one. She even sits beside the twins who both pounce on her and pull her in between them. They ask her questions and begin detailing some of their more gruesome adventures. Pushing through her internal terror she shares with them stories of family and friendship from the farm.

She’s afraid that the nightstalkers are changing me. But what she doesn’t see is how much she’s changing them. She’s scared out of her mind, but she’s helping these people to see in a way they never have before. She’s helped me to see in ways I never have before.

It makes me think that maybe, with people like Lesedi, this can work. Maybe, there can be a world after all this is over.

✽✽✽

LESEDI:

My emotions rock inside me like an internal hurricane. So many conflicting ideas and opinions. It’s like I had built a wall within my mind to keep the heavy waters of emotion at bay. Then Kit’thitch’s tale of his past made the wall come crashing down. He’s an orphan like me. He had only his twin left, like me. Then that one person who was supposed to be family betrayed him and tried to kill him. What’s worse, his response was only acceptance as if that was expected.

I always knew nightstalkers were violent and cruel, harsh and merciless. But I never considered how that effected their relationships with each other. No one should be alone. No one should expect to be betrayed by everyone if the opportunity rises or they become a threat. I’ve seen that they can be different. Othin, Wikon, Shado, Meekala, these are nightstalkers that exhibit love and loyalty. If they can then it stands to reason the others can too. If a person can have love and friendship, but I deny them that, then what makes me better than the nightstalkers?

They create a culture of pain and enmity for themselves, if that can change then we can have a real chance to coexist. But I need to try harder. More so, I need to forgive them. All of them. For everything they’ve done to me and others. I have to set the example; I can’t keep harboring resentment for them if I expect the world to move on. To that end, I’ve accepted Gi’mntat’s invitation to ride with him tonight. Fear shoots through my stomach, I don’t like the idea of being alone on a zigon with a nightstalker. But I need to see them as more. If I don’t, how can I help negotiate an alliance?

My worry melts when Kr’thitch calls to me from his own mount. “No worries little halfmoon! I will watch. If there is trouble, I will fight for you.”

I smile and wave back to him as the zigons bolt forwards. I gasp and grab onto the long fur in front of me. The acceleration always gets me.

Gi’mntat turns back to me. “Are you alright?”

I nod. “Yes, it just took me off guard.”

He nods. “Would you like to sit up front?”

“I would.” I smile as we reposition.

The major reason why I made myself learn to guide a zigon. Sitting at the head of the animal I can see its fluffy body charging forwards leaving the forest behind. Ahead of me, the horizon with the growing black wall draws closer at an incredible pace and I feel like I’m running at a supernatural speed. It’s beautiful and terrifying, filling me with excitement and making me feel powerful.

To the left Othin and Talea, our commanders in effect, race each other on separate zigons. I can almost hear them laughing over the loud clattering of hooves. Ahead and to the right are the twins, our scouts. Tonight, Echo chose to ride with them, the last thing she needed was a bad influence. But I try to change my thoughts, see them differently. Who knows? Maybe Echo will be a bad influence on them.

We lost most of a night of travel but it was well spent. The pack seems at ease and there’s this general feeling of unity that’s never been there before. There are certain small attachments, Meekala’s bond to Jar’kog the older nightstalker. Or the twins’ eerie bubble of connectivity to each other. But for the most part we’ve been a motley group of individuals trying not to die.

But that’s changing. I wonder if Talea already knew Kr’thitch’s story, or the twins’. Did she know how I would react? Did she know I would be the catalyst of unity? Or was it all a happy accident? If she planned this then I haven’t given her enough credit. It would seem that all along Talea hasn’t been senseless so much as uninterested. For the first time she’s found something she cares about besides flinging her hammer.

G’mntat turns to face me with a slight smile. His red eyes are more slanted than the others, his long white hair lays smooth against his back. “You did well Lesedi.”

I smile and shrug. “I hope I didn’t step on any toes. I don’t mean to strip away your culture, I just-”

He cuts me off with a shake of his head. “It needs to change. We need to.” He pauses with an expression I know now is them searching for words. “We can be strong, brave, without being cruel. We can be, better.”

I reach into my bag and pull out my journal. I’ve been taking observations of our pack and writing down their stories. Each past provides a puzzle piece that makes up the nightstalker culture. While the rest got ready to go, I had written down Kr’thitch’s tale, along with the twins’ by the dying embers of our fire. The more I know, the more I might be able to find a middle ground.

I grip my pencil on a fresh page. It’s difficult to write on a charging zigon, but I’ve learned to manage. “So, tell me, what’s your story?”

Gi’mntat scrunches his eyebrows in thought. “You write them?”

My eyes widen. “Oh no. Am I not supposed to?” My heart starts racing, the last thing I want to do is offend them and undo my work.

He chuckles. “It is fine. Our highest goal is for the clan to remember us. Even if it is only one person. If we do something great and they remember us, we live forever in the stories of our clan.” Gi’mnatat taps a black claw at my journal. “By writing our stories you promise remembrance. You give us the highest honor possible.”

I relax and let out a breath of relief. “You don’t have writing?”

He shakes his head and looks at the symbols I start scrawling on a page. Perhaps one day I’ll teach him to read, I’m sure he’ll be open to it. He seems a more intelligible sort, another one that’s different.

“Then, may I have your story?” I ask with as much respect as I can muster. I had no idea they would see my recording their accounts this way. I make a note, this might make it easier to inquire of the others. Jar’kog looks like he’s full of stories.

Gi’mntat looks away towards the horizon. “There is not much to tell. There is no battle in my story.”

I frown with surprise. “You’ve never killed anyone?”

He shakes his head. “No, I have. But not in glorious battles like Kr’thitch.”

From instinct I pat his arm without thinking. “That’s ok. There’s more of value in a story than the killing.”

He nods. “That is true.” He pauses to find the words before continuing. “I was born without fight. My bloodling too. We came as coldbloods and so they threw us out.”

I tilt my head. “Coldbloods?”

“A moonrunner without the heat of killing in their veins.” He struggles to block sadness from his face. “It is weakness to them.”

My mouth falls open in shock. “Your parents threw you away because you were born docile?!”

Gi’mntat nods taking in a deep breath filled with emotion. “It happens all the time. They think us weak, and so leave us to die.”

I write in my journal with furious scribbles. “How did you live? Someone must have taken care of you.”

He nods with a proud smile. “Wikon and Shado.”

I gasp with a smile. “They raised you?”

His eyes sparkle with glee as he looks at me. “They did. But the others could not know their leader took in weaklings. So, it was a secret. As with my bloodling and all the others.”

I connect the pieces in my mind trying to see the big picture. “Is Meekala his natural born?”

“Yes.” He confirms with a nod. “She was ten when I was saved. She brought food to me and the others. She and her sisters. The other moonrunners never notice children so they could run about and not bring attention. When I was old enough to be able, about seven, we are released into the clan. Arken built us houses at the edge of the village to stay safe. I chose to help.”

There’s so much to unpack here. I have so many questions. But one comes to mind first. “Meekala has sisters?”

He lowers his eyes. “Had. It is not a story that is mine to tell.”

I pat his arm for comfort through the tense silence. I want to be respectful, but my mind buzzes taking all this in. I need to know more. “You helped them to save the rejected children of your clan?” Gi’mntat nods. “How many of them were there?”

He pauses again to find the words. “Our people are changing. Away from the heat of killing and towards something new. This scares them. More and more children are born as coldbloods, docile as you say, every year. We save them all. The rest of the clan does not notice the shift.”

I chew on his words, it’s as if the picture is right in front of me but still fuzzy. “You keep saying ‘we’ and ‘the others’. To whom are you referring? What happened to the rejected children when they grew up? You say Areken built them houses, but I don’t imagine they were just left to fend for themselves then.”

He smiles a toothy grin. “Two questions, one answer. The banes.”

I gasp again and pull on his arm in reflex. “It’s you. You’re the bane.”

He nods, eyes glinting with pride. “I am one of them, yes.”

I can’t believe I had been so wrong. Clarity fills my mind, Wikon didn’t make banes, he raised them. From what I can tell he’s been in power for around forty years. He saw a shift in nightstalker temperament and intellect, so he raised that generation to be his banes. The picture becomes clear. The arena was placed as a way to control the wild populace through a killing outlet. The banes gave them something greater to fear to keep them in line.

My mind spins with the implications and I gasp again. “Is Meekala a bane?” He nods. I scribble some fast notes and then loop up at him again. “Are all the coldbloods banes? How many of the clan are coldbloods?”

His eyes squint as he does some thinking. “Six in ten. Training takes time, but all become banes eventually.”

Six in ten, that’s over half. In an instant their name makes more sense. Blood Bane. Wikon has a clear plan, overbreed the wildness with the banes. The new blood of the banes will soon create a new species of nightstalker. One we could coexist with, one with a future.

I sit back mystified with this new information. It sheds light on so many questions, but opens up so many more. What is causing the change in the nightstalkers? Is it random or is there a link? The banes must produce docile children. Of course, docile is a loose term for nightstalkers, it’s more like non-raging psychopaths. That’s still progress though.

Gi’mntat sits in contented silence for a while as I take notes and spin my brain. After giving me time, he poses a question of his own. “We know nothing of the Srexi. Do you think they could have shifted also?”

I pause, frozen in that thought. He’s been thinking about this for a while. If the Srexi underwent a similar shift they could be a unique subspecies of nightstalker. I look at my notes that could end up being useless. I realize in this moment how blind I truly am. I have no idea what’s ahead of us.