Two days had passed, and the different kamory (as I’d learned they were called) of Moonchildren had been inhospitable without ever crossing the line to disrespect. They numbered eleven, counting their leader, a surly male whose name I was never told.

He was young, his leathery skin taught and tight on his body, lean musculature evident. His vulpine face lacked the smile lines of Ana and the worry lines of the Allmother, and there were no gray hairs visible in any part of his hair that ran all the way down his spine. Given his youth, he must have been quite formidable, given that all but his fifth fingers showed evidence of his having spoken the necessary Phrases to have his fingers “exalted”.

The nameless male went by “Mpitar”, apparently his title within the kamory. All told, he was a young buck with a chip on his shoulder, and I couldn’t hold it against him, given that I myself was just that: a young buck with a chip on my shoulder. That said, I had some questions I wanted answered, so I forced myself to engage in real conversation with him in the evening of the second day, just as we set out.

“Given your people’s apparent power, why haven’t you exterminated this den of keelish?”

He scoffed. “You pests pose no threat to us as a people. We can see and hear you coming, you are weak and slow. No danger, but in your dens, you do demonstrate an understanding of ‘desperation’. You are too weak to be called fahvalo,” Mpitar spat the word, distaste dripping nearly as palpably as his spittle, “and I believe that Bloodpriestess Ana has made a mistake in her declaration. I honor her words though, and will do nothing more than speak the truth to you.” The ever present smirk on his face spread once again as he finished his diatribe, “So you have nothing to fear.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed, straight in his face. Mpitar immediately bristled, literally, his hackles rising all down his spine. Before he could start spitting something about how much better than me he was, I stepped close to him. I towered over the slight Moonchild, “Look. I don’t care what you have to say or think or whatever. You look down on keelish. I don’t care. If you want to see if you’re really so much better than me, I invite you to try it once we get to the end of our journey. Until then, leave it alone.”

After I finished speaking, I continued walking, leaving the frustratedly gaping mouth of Mpitar behind me. Not 50 paces later, Second approached me.

“Alpha, look around here. What do you see?”

I glanced around. A couple of light scores in the trunks of nearby trees, some heavy game trails, and not much else. However, now that I was taking specific note of it, I realized that the forest around us had gone silent. There were no markings of the passage of larger prey other than the paths, and I heard no chirping birds, chittering small prey, croaking of reptiles. The only sound other than those made by our group was the rustling of leaves in the wind that blew in our faces.

The wind blowing in my face brought me several smells: rotting flesh, upturned soil… and rutting keelish. It was faint, hidden behind the natural smells of the forest and carrion, but keelish were breeding nearby. I turned my head quizzically before looking over to Alaster.

“These markings here,” he gestured at the cuts in the trunks around us, “are territorial markings of a swarm. You never needed to learn this, you were too young to have ever participated in an expansion, but now you know. We’re getting close.”

I nodded in agreement and called over to Mpitar, “Look, we’re getting close. Wait here until a couple of hours after sunrise, we should be back by then.” I didn’t wait for a response and began walking off, my pitiful numbers of the swarm flanking me as I went.

Excited sounds reverberated behind me as I heard the swarm begin to realize that we were entering a swarm’s territory. I heard mutterings about how quickly I would be able to take control of this swarm, and a couple wondered aloud if this was going to be our new home. I sighed internally, knowing that our journey was far from over, and didn’t disillusion them of their hopeful musings just yet.

Took was at my side, looked at me, and nodded with a surety. Silf and Joral were at my other flank, and the swarm surged forward to enter this familiar yet foreign territory.

It wasn’t long, just a quarter of an hour, before we came upon a returning hunting pack of about fifteen.

They were led by a large male, nothing so large as those in our swarm, but about the size of a Moonchild, 1.5m. He saw our approach and immediately shrieked out, “Who’re yous??” His voice was grating, reminiscent of the least intelligent and polished members of my swarm who had died in the past weeks.

“Are you the Alpha of this swarm?” I refused to mince words.

“Naw. Shut up.” He immediately turned, and, looking at Took, changed subject. “Foller me, I wanna rut.”

The little pack alpha never stood a chance as Took, Silf, and Joral surged forward, with a couple others following suit, in a wave, lashing out with tails, jaws, arms, and sheer bodily mass. The unnamed alpha called his pack to defend themselves, but their fifteen against our five quickly crumbled and submitted in defeat. Joral and Silf in particular were vicious, Joral leveraging his squat, dense build, and launching the much smaller keelish into the air and against each other and nearby trees while Silf launched himself onto backs, bearing the weaker opponents to the ground, smashing their heads down once, and leaping to the next nearest target.

Took, to her credit, was relatively calm, and simply dealt debilitating blows with her tail and the knees of those stupid enough to get between her and her prey–the horny male. He didn’t last a single blow before cowering before her.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

Took looked at me, exasperated, and I nodded as I stepped forward. “Now that we have your attention, lead us to your swarm’s Alpha.”