Confirmation of the ancient foe came when some of our hunters followed the thickfeathers’ migration north at the end of summer. From far off, they saw the scaly beasts attempting to cow and domesticate the thickfeathers, “to little success” they’d boasted. Their pride, our pride, I suppose, has never known an equal. The depths and breadth of the Keel’s preparations weren’t considered, and that, combined with our hunters’ and scouts’ wilful misrepresentation of reality served to begin our conflict in the most disadvantaged way possible.
–Notes from the Nyust’taa daily record, spoken by the 21st Nyust’taa Yury’yai, recorded by Kichka
The night passed in fitful starts and anxious naps, but the shadow beasts didn’t strike again. Whether that was because of the safeguards we strengthened or they’d hunted their fill or any other number of reasons, I couldn’t say. Regardless, as the suns’ light colored the eastern horizon and glittered off the far-off waters, the last of the swarm who’d stubbornly fought to sleep roused. The herds had been influenced by the constant nervous energy all around them, and I’d nearly commanded the swarm to move out in the dead of night. I was still sound of mind enough to know how foolish a decision it would have been to leave the defenses we’d constructed, paltry though they might have seemed.
As soon as the light fully suffused the area, though, we hesitated no longer. There was no reason to stay unless I decided to hunt the creatures, and I saw no purpose to doing so at this time. Hopefully, we’d leave the extremely dangerous lands behind us before long, and I could return later and prove to the shadow beasts how wrong of a choice they’d made.
Every day that passed better illustrated to me the frustrating nature of traveling with the herds. As a human, I’d occasionally assisted with the few domesticated animals that lived under the purview of the tribe, but there’d been precious few. With over 2000 creatures between the herds and the keelish, the complexity of merely moving a mile had compounded to a painful, nearly insufferable difficulty, to say nothing of feeding and caring for so many beasts. Sybil, Joral, Took, Farahlia, and others took upon themselves the bulk of the responsibilities of managing the details of my people, for which I thanked Nievtala daily. Even so, the decisions of where to go, what to prioritize, and what we would do as a whole plagued me.
I didn’t wish for any other to take from me the ability to make the choice, but I found myself frustrated by the necessity of choosing. The irony was not lost on me, and I continued to stand by my choice to focus entirely on finding and reaching Nievtra. The few keelish who mentioned their disagreement with my choice were overheard by my more staunch supporters. When I finally heard of what’d happened there, Vefir had been my messenger when the dissenters were forced to seek some sort of healing.
“They’re idiots,” sas his response when I asked what’d happened. “And they’re learning a lesson they won’t soon forget.”
I didn’t care enough to dive deeper, and instead I focused on our journey forward. Though I’d never considered dreams to be even remotely prophetic, I found myself inclined to believe the visionary dream. How many peaks had I passed? At least seven, but maybe as many as twenty? The ethereal, uncertain nature of dreams fogged my mind and I fought to suppress my frustration. Then, the necessity to avoid the shadow monsters as much as possible complicated our travels more, since I couldn’t say how much their territories ranged, if they hunted in packs, or even if the ones that’d attacked us last night were the same ones that ambushed us the morning before.
“Nievtala grant me wisdom.” I idly prayed as I walked forward. We’d been forced to stop once again for the herds to graze and drink, though they didn’t need nearly as much water as I’d feared. Perhaps because they’d come from an arid land before, but none of the herds slurped greedily or desperately at any of the creeks we passed, many of them merely opting to sip for a brief moment and move along. The plentiful grasses, though, constantly drew their attention and keelish and khatif constantly fought to drag the herds ever onward. Thankfully, we made as good of time as we could expect.
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When we passed a deadfall of many trees, marked by a strange scar in the mountain, leading from high above, just a couple of hours before the suns would set, I made the decision for the swarm to take our rest here. Under Solia’s command, dozens of piles were prepared for fires, and the swarm settled into the center of the established perimeter. Through the day, I’d been struck by just how few creatures lived in the plains between the far-off beach and the mountains. Silf and Foire had the distinct impression that there would be many more of the shadow beasts between us and the sea and I trusted their instincts. But if there wasn’t anything to hunt out there, then how did they survive? There wasn’t any food for them, and if they hunted each other, they’d quickly die out.
My musings were interrupted by the crackling of flames. Somewhere in the distance, I imagined I could hear the roars of the shadow beasts, but I couldn’t say if it were real or not. Instead, stood with the rest of the swarm, prepared for an attack that might come.
The suns set entirely, and there was no attack.
An hour passed, and there was no attack.
A second hour passed, and there was no attack.
I refused to allow myself to calm. The previous attack had come when I’d begun to believe that there would be no strike. With a force of will, I flared the influence of [Fanatic’s Fortitude] and felt the cloud of tiredness burn away from my mind. Though I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary outside of our established ring of fires, I stayed standing tall in the center of my people and flocks and watched for the approach of anything that would threaten us.
Some of my keelish approached me with questions, hoping for reassurance, but I didn’t engage beyond quick exchanges. I’d been made to look the fool when the other shadow beasts attacked in the same moment I declared them cowards, I wouldn’t tempt whatever hateful being seemed to wish for my fall by making any promises again.
Another hour passed, and finally, with [Tremorsense] and my ears strained for any warning noise, I heard a whisper of a shadow monster’s call. They were subdued, and I felt there were two of them. They seemed to speak to one another and patrolled the edge of the camp.
“Both sides!” I commanded, “Be ready! I hear something nearby!”
With my warning, every fire was stoked to greater heights, loose dry brush tossed atop the carefully maintained flames. The light surged as the fire crackled and popped. The perimeter of light cast by each flame doubled in size, and the creatures’ communications crescendoed to a louder, angrier, lower pitch. Even so, they merely circled the camp before meeting on the west side together and beginning to retreat.
“They’re pulling back again!” Foire reported before I said the same.
“Be ready! This is what they did last night as well!”
Keelish lurched into position, their claws and jaws ready. A Voltaic Wolfstag crackled with nervous energy near each group, and Solia and Hala stood beside me, ready to support whichever side needed it.
There was no need, as the minutes drifted away with a tense trepidation and there was no attack. An hour passed, and there was no sign of the creatures. Another hour passed, and the barest hint of dawn lit the skies to the east. Still, there was no sign. The light of the suns crossed the horizon in its entirety, and still the beasts didn’t attack.
Without knowing who began it, the swarm cheered our survival and possible victory over the strange creatures. I joined, singing praises to Nievtala and our own determination. Once they fully rose overhead, the suns found us exhausted but happily continuing on our path northward.