Soren and Tucks Friendship never had a moment of creation. They'd been together before they could walk, before they could speak. Their lives were so intertwined neither could remember the friendship actually beginning. In truth it had no beginning, it simply always was. As they began to grow older, they remained close through an ever-growing bond, tangible in Soren’s mind. In the way only children with space to roam can, the two could make deadly circumstances out of innoxious situations. Often escaping through the watchful eye of the other and luck alone. It was moments like these that built the shared bond, forged of intimacy only ever made in the perceived fires of life and death. It was a friendship built in the confines of childhood obsessions with life and death. Life was still new, and with it the concept of death had not been dulled. For Soren and Tucks, the life and death of all creatures, themselves included were ever constant companions.

Once, during a hot, pale green day, the two had been playing in the creek in the northern point of the Everett’s property. Soren had been about eight at the time and Louis had been tasked with watching them. He had promptly taken his new horse and left early saying,

“Stay in the creek bed, I’ll be back. Soren, do not leave this here creek ya hear me?” then without waiting for an answer he disappeared over the ridge. This was before the rains had stopped and they had taken advantage of the cool water and inconsistent shade of the creek. Soren assumed, as long as she was in the Creek bed, she was following Louis’ instructions. So, for the better part of the day they explored the creek. Heading southeast downstream, they passed the Everett’s property line and explored well into the wilderness. A wilderness that separated their land and that which is controlled by dust, wind and weather. It had been a wonderful day, catching the small crawfish and water-bugs that had made temporary homes in the pools and soft mud.

It had also been Zaday, the shortest day of the week, only twelve hours long and in the summer, that meant only eight hours of daylight. Thinking back, Soren was sure this was why Louis had left them alone. He must have assumed they couldn’t get into too much trouble in such a short time. In the summer, while the suns were up at least, the land was relatively quiet, the heat keeping the larger predators sheltered. Summer nights being especially short however, meant predators had that much less time to hunt. Everyone knew even from a young age, not to be out in the wilds during summer nights, especially not on Zaday. Soren had seen the green hues of the sun Ahura changing to orange and yet, she'd ignored the warning signs. Instead going back to catching another Bogfrog that jumped about in front of her. Its six limbs splashed the surface, sending smaller black water beetles scurrying for safety. It wasn’t until the reddish hues of the smaller sun, Ahriman began to sharpen in earnest that Tucks looked up from the crawfish he had cornered under a rock.

“Soren, shouldn’t we head back?”

“I don’t know, this is your creek” Soren replied not looking at him.

“Its getting late, and I don’t think we should be out here when the suns set.” Tucks said looking over the crest of the creek.

“Ok let me just get thi-” Soren had cut off as the soft laugh of a Dire-Cayote sounded in the distance. It was soon combined with the sounds of at least a dozen more, like the sound of an insane audience of a mummer show. The two froze. Both their pulses quickened in unison to the unnerving sounds of rapidly approaching night. Soren could still remember hearing the sound of something above them and Tucks wide-eyed look.

“Run!” he yelled in a whisper.

Heart hammering, Soren followed Tucks in the dying light, splashing here, falling over a unseen rock there. It seemed to take far longer to get back than it had getting out. At a turn in the creek, after the Dire-Cayote laughter had died off, they stopped to let Tucks catch his breath. It was only a few moments yet, in the sudden silence they heard the unmistakable sound of pebbles and rocks falling as something skidded down the ravine and into the creek bed. Not thirty paces behind them something large had descended into the creek and was confidently moving towards them. Turning around Soren’s heart skipped a beat, a scream caught in her throat as she saw the thing.

Not the Dire-Cayote she was expecting, but an impossibly large raptor, perhaps ten feet, perhaps bigger. Soren’s memory of it seemed to inflate the thing every time she recalled it. From her young perspective it had been a colossal terror. Its beak shining as it caught the last rays of light. She remembered watching it descend the last few feet of the ravine towards them. Its head, covered in varying sized feathers, was the tan reddish hue of suns-set. The feathers circled its black beady eyes and Soren could remember seeing terrible intelligence there. The thing had long spindly arms with feathers drooping from them like a shawl. Each arm ended in cruel yellowish claws that also caught the reddish hues of dusk. Soren remembered even now, those arms, curved inward as if preparing for some strange embrace. The neck of the creature was shaped like a crane or pelican with a distinctive S shape to it that bobbed as the bird made its way toward them.

It pecked the air in an odd bipedal motion as it moved. As it did, Tucks had whispered to Soren,

“don’ worry”.

Her face contorted in terror, was a thing Tucks would remember fondly and tell often in the years to come. It was obvious the thing was too big to fly or at least fly any sort of distance. Yet, its legs had clearly been designed for sprinting and jumping. The fur covered lower limbs also ended in claws, each about 2 feet long. They clicked on the rocks as it made its way to them. Soren could make out a long spur on the back of each leg and even now she couldn't tell the use of such a weapon. As she did so, the creature made a softly whirling chirp at them. This odd sound, more than anything else left Soren in utter terror.

To Soren’s utter astonishment, Tucks repeated the noise back at the thing, chirping and whirling in an intonation that wasn’t exactly the same though nearly identical in tone and pitch. The creature stopped, cocking its head in a distinct gesture of confusion. Then it made another gesture, cocking its head in the other direction, its gobble shifting with the movement. It took one more step towards them. Tucks stretched out his arms as if he would embrace the thing and, for a moment Soren’s brain couldn’t process exactly what she was seeing. The creature stopped again, bobbed its head before raising its beak and uttering an earsplitting cry that made Soren’s ears ring long after the scream stopped. She had covered her ears to the pain and in that moment, the thing turned and raced back up the ravine. Small pebbles and rocks went slipping down as it jumped the last few feet and raced off into the night. Dumbfounded Soren lowered her hands from her ears, looking at Tucks. A grin was beginning to split his mouth as she stammered,

“W-what, what was… what just happened?”

“Dromaeocrane” Tucks said, starting to smile in earnest.

“’s deadly serious if it thinks it can eat ya, but repeat the challenge back to ‘em and they’ll run most the time, not much for fighting those.”

“I thought we were dead for sure!” Soren said, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Yet, the look of mirth building on Tucks face began to calm her a bit, then annoy her.

“well, we should hurry up. There’s plenty out ‘ere that can still have us.”

The two had met up with Louis not long after. He had heard the cry and had come running towards them fearing the worst. They had never told anyone what had happened out there in the creek, even Louis. When he had asked, Tucks had spoke up before Soren could reply,

“yeah, we heard it too, wonder what that was!”

“Best we get back home I suppose” was all Louis said, with a look back at Soren, Tucks had winked and smiled at her, making her eyes roll almost involuntarily. When they finally made it back home, Tucks had waved again and smiled before running off to the light of home. Soren remembered turning to Louis asking,

“Why did you leave us so long?”

He had remained silent the entire ride back home, pale and shaking. He never responded to Soren. They walked home in silence, never speaking of it again. That was the day Soren no longer felt safety from him. That feeling was transferred to Tucks, in a moment bronzed in her mind. It was a lifetime of such memories that instilled a bittersweetness to every moment there after. From the beginning she felt sorrow with the joy, the excitement with the terror and she lived in-between those emotions within her memories. Thinking of what had seemed a long life already, Soren had spent most of it with Tucks. That he'd be here, helping her bury her dead brother felt as natural as breathing.

Looking over at him as he sat atop her pony, she couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. As they rode on, parallel to the row of mounds, Soren could see the creek bed from where they were. She looked at Tucks who was also looking at the creek just beyond the mounds. She smiled at the memory, remembering the utter disbelief at the first time she had seen that Dromaeocrane. She had been so small then, the thing had seemed monstrous, truly it had been monstrous to her back then. Now she suspected she could take one on in a pinch, though she didn’t really want to try it. The memory almost helped her forget about her brother lying in his grave just a couple miles behind. As she tried and failed to maintain her reminiscing, she thought she could see an end to the mounds up ahead.

“Tucks,” she began,

“yeah, I see it” he said. They both stared ahead for a moment before Soren quickened her ponies pace, Tucks holding the reigns behind her. It took longer than Soren had expected. Once again she found herself following the suns-set heading away from home as the light began to die. As she looked up at the sky she noticed something odd. The light seemed to be dissipating much too early. She had to turn in her saddle to see what was approaching. From directly behind her, a storm of colossal proportions was building.

‘How had she not seen it before?’ She thought,

The thing bubbled upside down with a sickly dark green hue that spoke of unfathomable power. As if the storm itself had been waiting for Soren to notice it, a powerful wind kicked up, blowing dust into her eyes and stinging them red. It was a cool wind and, being used to the heat of the day, the abrupt change made bumps rise on Soren’s skin. Rubbing her eyes and blinking out tears she turned to Tucks,

“We need ta hurry, Papa can’t be far.”

“Lets get.” Tucks replied, kicking the pony into a gallop. They stayed silent as they bounced towards the end of the mounds. The storm kept pace at their back, remaining just behind, as if the force of their movement pulled the thing along. When they finally began to near the end, Soren could just make out a man in the distance. He seemed to be digging at something. By the way the figure moved, she knew it wasn’t her father and a hesitancy suddenly rose in her. Unsure what to do, Soren touched the hind leg of her pony and tugged the reins, her pony made a quick stop and pivoted on its front foot. The abrupt stop took Tucks by surprise and he nearly toppled them both before balancing himself saying, “Whoah, whoa”. Soren took a moment to look about still unsure why she'd stopped them here. Then she heard it; a soft whistle, carried by the wind. She looked around but couldn’t see anything yet she knew the melody.

The storm seemed to be waiting for her to move on and she could have sworn it had paused again, just above her. The clouds roiled but held unnaturally still. For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming again, but looking at the setting suns, she knew it was real. She could remember traveling the distance from her brothers grave. No, this was certainly happening. Then, she heard it again, a soft cooing whistle that came from the direction of the creek due south of her. She dismounted and Tucks followed closely behind.

Their sudden halt had gotten the attention of the man digging, though he was quite a distance away, he seemed to have stopped watching them as he rested on the butt of his shovel. Soren thought she could actually feel his expectation, waiting for her to make her way to him. She resisted the urge to get back on her horse and go to him. Instead she crossed the row of mounds and walked the short ways to the edge of the ravine. Here, where the creek had begun to dig into the earth in earnest, she heard her father’s voice.

“Soren, git down here!” he called in a whisper. With a leap of relief, she saw her father’s face, covered in sweat and dirt. His shirt was torn in a number of places and his arm was bent awkwardly. She looked at the crooked, black and blue arm, obviously broken. His horse was nowhere to be seen.

“Papa!” she called back, in the same whispered tone.

“the two of you git right down here now!” he said again, anger tinting his usually stoic voice. They did as they were told, leaving the horses to graze above them. Sliding a ways down the ravine, Soren looked at her father, his face was ashen with agony.

“papa, what happened?! Your arm!”

“’s nothin’ now listen you two need to get out of here right now.” The way he said ‘you two’ told Soren volumes. She felt a cold surge of panic.

“papa, Louis. He…”

“’s alright. I know. Tucks, you need ta git her out of here, now!” Her father replied turning to the young man.

“you take that horse and turn right round and do not stop until you ge-”

“we need ta get you out of here” Tucks said in a whisper to Soren’s left. Dolor Pickett, turned and spat and Soren could see a bit of blood in it.

“’s no time for that now, Storm will be here presently and that pony won't make it with three of us.”

“papa, ‘s nothin’ we can walk back in a little storm.” Soren said, panic threatening her voice. Her father seemed not to hear her.

“I need to distract that, thing out there.” He said, motioning with his head towards the man off in the distance. From where they were hidden, Soren couldn’t see his silhouette juxtaposed against the setting suns but Dolor could, he knew what that creature was about. These graves hadn’t dug themselves after all.

“What happened papa?” Soren asked again, her father paused for a moment, seemingly unable to catch his breath.

“Rode up on it, didn’t so much as say a word, just took that shovel and swiped clean through Old Janie’s neck.” He said this shaking his head and looking off towards the coming storm.

“Never seen such a thing in my life.” Dolor said, real wonder in his voice. Soren put her hand over her mouth and tears began to swell in her eyes.

“Well, it was at least a quick death, I suppose. Tried to jump off and almost did too, but bein’ atop her like I was, I fell when she did.” He motioned to his arm,

“Got banged up under her, and I was pined down good. That, thing could have ended me right then and there if it wanted to. But, it began to dig instead. Didn’t take him but any time at all. Damndest thing, the ground just… changed round ‘em for some reason.” He took another pause and spat before he continued,

“‘fore I knew what, he was draggin’ Old Janie’s body off me and into her grave. Got up and ran for it ‘fore he could stop me.” His eyes looked wild to Soren and she couldn’t help but notice his shaking voice.

“Seemed not to notice me though, by time I got here and got under this ravine, it was burying some other critter it had taken.” Tucks grabbed his water skin and uncorked it before handing it to Dolor who took it and splashed a bit on his face and took a long draw. He spit the last bit out and it too was pink and bloody. Dolor coughed and choked on the water and Soren glanced over at Tucks who gave her a grave look.

“You lot need to get out of here, right now.” Her father finally said,

“Go?” a raspy, inhuman voice intoned from the atop the ravine. “Go?” It asked again, “No, I do not believe you will go. In fact, I mean for you all to stay. Here, well, over there actually,” he pointed towards the end of the row of mounds. “for a time at least. though, perhaps not you Ms. Soren.” Tucks and Dolor both looked at Soren a moment before looking back at the figure. Tucks and Soren both staggered to their feet, perching precariously on the angled slope.

“Soren, run. now.” Her father whispered. He hadn’t gotten to his feet as fast but now was rising, using his one good arm to raise himself up.

“Who are you?” Tucks asked, for all the world looking to Soren a hero from one of her mothers old stories. One foot ahead of the other, he looked as though he were readying himself to charge the figure. The figure cocked his head in an not quite human way. Bending down he picked up a small pebble before tipping his hat to him. Tossing the pebble up and catching it, the figure said,

“I have been called many things. It honestly gets quite tedious. These days…” and he paused, taking the pebble between his thumb and forefinger, “…You may call me Madrid.” He said all this as he examined the pebble in his fingers. Then, in the same instant, he flicked it, flinging the tiny rock with impossible speed at Tucks head. The pebble hit him perfectly square in the forehead, boring through his skull and exiting out the back of him in an explosion. Tucks instantly fell back, the look of defiance still on his face.

Shock and disbelief took Soren. She saw the falling figure of Tucks and felt time slow. She looked at her father and saw the incomprehension on his face. Time slowed to a point and in the distance she heard screaming, her screaming she realized.

“NOOOOO!!” she heard herself scream. An amused expression crossed Madrid’s face. Soren’s eyes followed Tucks’ body sliding down to the bottom of the creek bed. The creek they had spent so many wonderous summer afternoons in. Her friend, truly her only friend, limply slid down the slope, small rocks following his lifeless body. Soren ran after him and Dolor Pickett followed just behind. Astonished tears streaking her already grief-stricken face. She reached his body as it finally slid to a stop a few feet from the water of the creek. She reached down and cradled him. His body still very much warm, his blood leaving a trail back up the ravine to where Madrid stood, an incongruent humor in his eyes. Soren heard herself whispering “Tucks, Tucks, Tucks”, holding him and cradling his head in her lap. She was oblivious to the blood gushing over her. Within moments, she heard the soft crackling of Madrid’s laugh. The sound made her blood tingle. She was blinded by her rage. Her hands were shaking and before she knew it, she had set Tucks lifeless body down and risen. She began to make her way up the ravine, Madrid’s laughter ringing in her ears.

“SOREN, GIT BACK!!” Her father screamed at her as Soren passed him, desperately trying to charge up the slope. She looked at her father, clearly hurt and it brought some semblance of sense back to her. She let him hold her back for a moment before switching to propping him up.

“You will regret this” Soren said, quiet fury infusing her trembling voice.

“Oh, I think I will not actually. Come now, Dolor,” Madrid said, looking at Soren’s father,

“Let’s do something about that back pain of yours, whadaya say?” Madrid bent down reaching for another pebble.

“NO! STOP. Please!” Soren yelled, halting her climb abruptly and moving in front of her father,

“Move!” Dolor Pickett yelled at Soren, trying to push her on the uneven slope without losing his own balance,

“What, what do you want?” Soren heard herself saying, a geometric prism formed in her minds eye for a moment before disappearing again.

“Anything?” Madrid asked through a grin in that high-pitched raspy voice. “Well now, I will have to think on this. For now...” He paused for a long time, tapping his finger on his lips, “mmmmm, go.” He said, waving his spindly fingers flippantly. “And yes, you may take your father-tree with you.” He said through a smile. Soren froze. He had seen her dream? How had he known? For that matter, how did he know her name?

“I’ll return when I’ve come to a good stopping place with,” Madrid said waving at the line of mounds, “this. I am sure we can work out some sort of agreement then.” Soren, still shocked by his omniscient words bowed her head, fury and frustration threatening to overcome her.

“Come Soren.” Her father said, grabbing her arm. She let him gently lead her back down to the Creek bed. They made their way back to where Tucks body lay, blood pooling beneath his head like some strange, dark pillow. Before they could reach him though Madrid called,

“Leave that behind, I will need him.” He said this pointing his bony finger to Tucks body. Soren looked down at her friend. Tears filling her eyes and again she thought she saw a geometric prism in her mind for a moment. She ignored it and made to argue, intending to give Tucks the respect his body was due. Before she could, her father had grabbed her with is good arm leading her away saying,

“Come. We cannot stay.” Still, a piece of Soren protested. Part of her still couldn’t process the scene in front of her. Though another part raged in fury at the injustice of it all.

“Go on now.” Madrid said, as Soren made one last attempt to hold Tucks. One last attempt to comfort the boy that had protected her so many times. Finally, she let her father lift her guiding them both from the body. As she turned to leave, Soren winced as she heard a thump and one short neigh that was cut off before it could escape. She held her father tighter as Madrid yelled down to them in a mock conversational tone,

“I do have so much work this evening and, yes it looks like it will storm yet again. Go on now, you don’t want to keep Yalina waiting!” As he said this, Madrid looked up and frowned in disappointment at the storm that had paused above them. Then he turned and began dragging Soren’s pony in one hand, her best friend in the other. The spindly humanoid dragged them as if they were inconvenient sacks of grain. Dark streaks followed behind him in two lines as he pulled them along to the end of the line of graves.

Soren and her father made their way northwest along the creek bed for little over a mile. When she finally felt it was safe, she helped her father up the side of the creek where the edge had eroded enough to make the climb relatively easy. The two crested the creek and carefully crossed the row of mounds. They walked with bowed heads directly into the wind and rainless storm. The storm head had moved past them while they were in the creek, bringing a cool dry wind. In the distance a few streaks of lightning began to fall in the north. Still, not a drop of rain fell from those pregnant skies. As they walked back, Lightning began streaking in earnest all around them and night came early in the strobing landscape.

They reached the Everett’s property long after it had grown dark. Soren could feel the weight of it as they approached Tucks house.

“Wait here.” Her father told her as they approached the house. Soren stopped and waited some distance behind. She couldn’t hear what her father said to Mrs. Everett’s but Soren winced all the same as the woman released a guttural moan and fell to the floor. Soren just stared at her, a void in her eyes. It took a long time for Dolor Pickett to help her to her feet and bring her inside. Soren waited and watched the heat lightning off in the distance. She tried to slow her racing thoughts, but the exhaustion was threatening to take her and she had to make it home. Finally she heard the screen door snap shut and saw her father limp towards her, silloutted against the houses light behind him. The two continued on in silence as they made their way back home.

Sometime past midnight they reached their own property line and once again. The two rested under the Cottonwood as they had for lunch so many years ago. ‘No, just this afternoon’ Soren’s mind thought. Her brothers grave was the only change and her father seemed to notice it only as they got close to sit and rest. The weight of sorrow began to grip her again and her small body longed to stay under the Cottonwood and sleep under its protective branches with louis. Yet the dry lightning and near constant thunder kept her alert. Her fathers wheezing kept her alert. She knew if they stopped, her father would never make it through the night. He looked worse than ever as he stared at the grave of his first and only son. The evenings grueling march had left him in terrible shape and this threatened to finish the job. It wasn’t just his broken arm, he had at least a few broken ribs, his breathing clearly labored.

As they rested under the Cottonwood, Soren took off her tunic and ripped it into long strips. She wrapped these around his torso, though she was unsure if this would have any effect. It did seem to help with his wheezing though, and her father thanked her after she was done. Soren didn’t respond. She hadn’t spoken since their escape. Her mind was a tumult of thoughts and feelings. Grief, guilt, apprehension and exhaustion all vied for attention. She gave none of the feelings the attention they deserved. A geometric pattern formed in her vision for a moment before once again disappearing. The all she could see was Tucks face just before he died, the look of defiance forever inscribed in his eyes. She could still feel the strange emotion but it was absent as well. It had made her heart swell but now she wasn’t exactly sure why.

“This looks good.” Dolor said motioning to his son’s grave.

“Your mother taught you how.” He said. It wasn’t really a question and Soren hadn't really heard him. She couldn’t even register the words let alone where the information came from. They stayed there for a long moment giving Louis the proper respect the dead are due. Soren promised herself she’d do the same for Tucks.

As they made their way back home, Soren couldn’t hear the constant thunder. Instead all she heard was laughter, Madrid’s high raspy laughter ringing in her head over and over. After what seemed an eternity, they saw the lights of home. Soren’s father had pink froth around his mouth and had made a terrible sound with each step. He stumbled often, even with Soren’s help. For her part, Soren’s mind was so full of grief and rage she truly believed she heard Madrid’s laughter echoing through the howling winds. As they approached Soren looked about, thinking the monster was right next to her, laughing in her ear. Soren watched with an odd detachment as Yalina raced out to meet them. She had seen the strange geometric prism again. She knew she should be furious, but she just couldn’t remember why. All the remained was her grief. Grief for Tucks and her brother, grief for her mother and father and grief for Mrs. Everett’s. Yalina had been waiting at the front door, watching to the south for a sign of them in the unnatural storm.

Gingerly getting under Dolor’s other arm, she helped them inside. She remained quiet as they entered the kitchen and began wrestling her father atop the table. Soren’s trousers and undershirt were covered in Tucks dried blood. Yalina said nothing of this and her only indication she saw the gory mess, a slight widening of her eyes and repositioning of her weight back to her heels. Soren managed to have the wherewithal to wonder at her mothers stoicism. She was simply too exhausted to speak, too tired to weep and too grief-stricken to explain. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Soren realized her mother had a mountain of experience she would never understand. They managed to get her father onto the kitchen table and laid him down with a soft grunt. Soren stood for a moment, breathing heavily and staring out past her mother, out the window to the south. Once again a geometric prism flashed in her mind. It was the last thing she remembered. She didn’t remember climbing the short set of steps to her bed, didn’t remember taking off her dirt filled boots, and didn’t remember climbing into the soft covers of her plush bed. The last thing Soren Pickett remembered was falling into an inky black ocean and looking up, seeing the orange of fire dance and ripple in the corners of her vision.