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⬅️ Previous capture (2023-09-28)
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Hooves crashed through fresh snow, scattering it in their wake. Kois' teeth sank deep into leathery skin, hanging on as her prey dragged her along. The walrus deer grunted and snorted, fighting for life with every scrap of waning strength, its breath coming in thick, steaming clouds. Still Kois held on, seeking to crush its throat. Thick bristles of hair scratched her face, and the scent of blood and sweat filled her nose. No nicheling could take this beast on alone, not even Kois.
But she was not alone.
The walrus deer's bellows turned to gasps as her teeth sank deeper. She swung her tail, and felt as much as heard the crack of its bony club shattering the beast's hind leg. With a bellow like thunder, her prey collapsed, stumbling. Kois was shaken loose as it fell toward her, forcing her to dodge of be crushed in turn. But her hunt partner held on. Pinning the walrus deer to the ground with her bulk, the bearyena mother clamped powerful jaws around its throat. Snow and blood alike went flying as the beast thrashed and kicked, fighting on though it would never run again. Its deep barks turned to gasps, and then nothing more than faint, misty breath fading into the frigid air. Deep red blood ran from its throat, to pool and stain the fresh snow.
Kois lowered her head. "Good," she said, in the deep, still unfamiliar bearyena tongue.
"Good," the bearyena replied, in the language of nichelings.
She wasted no time tearing into the thinner skin of the belly, spilling gore and steam across the snow. A few scavenging birds landed in a spindly, windswept tree, waiting for the two hunters to finish their meal. On a cold winter's day like this - a day that even with her inexperience Kois knew hinted at heavier snows to come - the hot, fresh meat felt like raw life force, rejuvenating her body and gems.
The forests at the mountain's base may never change, but the mountains themselves, they were a different story. Cold nights tinged with frost had turned to dustings of snow, and now that snow covered paws and lingered past midday. Hard days lay ahead. But that is the way of winter, and Kois's claws were sharp and her jaws strong. So far she had faced the season with a wary sort of respect, conscious that she had no more than ancient tales to guide her, but confident in herself. Confident, and never alone.
Since that day in the windswept high valleys, she and the bearyena mother had crossed paths more than a few times. At first they had kept a wary distance, hackles slightly raised, though in caution rather than aggression. Few wild animals fight if they can help it, and they were no exception; better to walk on and concede one another's territory than risk injury. But sometimes there were days when one had made a kill and eaten all she could, and left the remains to the other. And that had led to days when one, hunting a little too close to the other's territory, had realised that where one could not take down prey as large as a walrus deer, two might have a chance. Together they chased their hunger across the valleys, spilled blood on the snow, and filled their stomachs.
Kois had carried the name of -Yukir- all her life, the gift of her mountain ancestors passed to the scattered remnants of their line. The other half of her ancestry she had never denied, but never had she thought of it either. It was not that she had never told Yuki what she was, only that he had never asked until that day. She never -worried- about how he would take the knowledge. Not visibly. But with his understanding, a weight she had carried so long that she forgot its presence had lifted, light as the skies above.
Neither Kois nor the bearyena spoke as they devoured the fresh meat. Bearyenas had little to say, not for a lack of words or understanding of the world, but for a lack of anyone to speak with. Their world was a solitary one. Her companion did not even have a name, for what good were names, she had said with a defensive bark, when for so much of her life there was none but herself? It would be as futile as naming the sky. Her cub, safe in their den, was her only company outside of Kois, and one day he would be gone in search of his own territory, and they might never see one another again. To Kois it sounded like a desolate and lonely life, yet had she too not prized her time alone in the dappled shade of her favourite tree, in a home now far away and part of another life?
Still Kois was a nicheling as much as a bearyena, and so when the two had eaten their fill and together wrenched a leg from its socket for the mother to bring back to her cub, Kois set about hauling the remains back to the river valley. It was heavy work, but a bracing, rewarding sort of heavy. A warm den out of the wind awaited, and a well-fed tribe.
And, engrossed in dragging her kill home, feeling her muscles strain and burn, she could forget about the waiting. She didn't sit and watch over the valley much these days, but there was usually someone there. It might be Kuku, with observant eyes that spotted every detail. Or Meana, driven by a sense of duty, occasionally scratching at her chest as her final gem grew closer to emerging. Or, more often than not, Yuki, quiet and watchful. Kois couldn't be sure, but was he a little taller these days, his coat thicker? His paws and still solitary gem were still too big for him, but every day he seemed to fit them a little better.
Every night Kois watched the moon change, and sometimes Yuki would sit by her side. They rarely talked, but each knew what the other thought. -We are waiting, and we will not give up.-
But she could forget all of that as she ploughed a furrow of bloody snow and torn earth, all the way to the valley. The walrus deer's antlers snagged on the ground and onto branches, necessitating a sharp, powerful tug on occasion to wrench them free. The scavenging birds followed in her wake, some bold enough to peck at the corpse and dart away before she could retaliate. Kois' ears turned to the sound of the distant river as she drew closer. It still flowed too fast to freeze over.
In the distance an alarm call sounded out, and she paused, dropping the corpse as the birds scattered. Her ears perked, she listened above the ever present wind for any sign of danger. Heartbeats passed, long and drawn out.
And then a second cry rang out across the mountains, but it was not another alarm call, not an alert at all, but... a wordless exclamation of joy? Her reserves forgotten, Kois broke into a bounding run, clearing the distance to the river downhill. The winds were the chill sort that flowed from the icy peaks, and so they carried no sounds, but there was no mistaking the excited voices below, or the sight of a small crowd of nichelings gathered above the treeline.
She slowed to a wary trot as she approached, suddenly fearing what she might see - or what she might not see. Sniffing the air, she padded closer, and Meana, at the edge of the crowd, noticed her approach. She stepped aside, tail and ears held high.
They were safe. By Yuki's own grace, every one of the expedition had returned! Kirro let out a greeting call, tail waving, and Anameis followed his lead. Rara and Iskome were engaged in conversation with other nichelings. And in the middle, her nimble paw drawing Yuki protectively close to her ruff, sat Laana.
She looked up, her eyes meeting Kois', but Kois' gaze faltered for a moment, and cast her eyes downward. Was that the harsh winter sun on her gems, or were they really white? White gems, what could that mean? Looking up again, she took in the broken antler. Where did she begin to ask all her questions?
Tentatively, Kois stepped forward into the crowd of nichelings as they sniffed and nuzzled at one another in greeting, sharing their scents with their stories. Anameis flicked her tail, and Kois responded with a rumbling purr. Yuki, seeming to realise what was happening, reared up to give Laana one last nuzzle before bounding off to greet the other newcomers.
Laana sat up straight with her tail coiled around her paws, and combed at her ruff. Kois felt a lurch in her stomach as she looked again at the snapped off antler. "The snow..." Laana said, her eyes drifting from Kois' to take in the white-dusted valley and the sheer icy crags beyond. "You did not tell me it was so beautiful, Kois." She purred, an almost playful sound.
Kois let out a deep -chuff- of amusement. "You know as well as I do, I had never seen it before either!"
She half expected Laana to turn shyly away, but the white nicheling just purred in amusement. "Is it what you imagined?" she said. Small words, covering up a long story.
And, for a heartbeat, Kois was the shy one, and she turned her head aside for a moment. "Yes."
Laana uncoiled her tail, lifting her nimble paw, and sat frozen. The world snapped back to normal. Laana took a tentative step forward, ears high and gems shining, but her stance uncertain... until Kois lifted a heavy paw and beckoned her to press herself close to her thick ruff. Kois closed her eyes, lost in a deep purr, and Laana responded in turn.
"It... it has been too long, Kois," Laana whispered.
"I know," Kois whispered. She breathed in, deeply, taking in the smaller nicheling's scent. But the sounds of chatter all around brought her back to the rest of the world - and more pressing matters. "Everyone, listen," she said, opening her eyes. "I left a kill upriver, and there is still plenty of meat. We should get to it before the ramfoxes do."
---
Fortunately there were no ramfoxes around when they returned to where Kois left the walrus deer, though a few birds scattered into the air at the approach of a whole tribe of nichelings. The newcomers expressed their surprise at the sight of a fully grown walrus deer; they had expected a smaller grazer, or maybe a few rabbils. Kois was forced to quickly recount not only how she had taken down such a massive creature, but the encounter with the bearyena that started it all. Even after all they had been through, the expedition could not hide their shock, but nor could they resist such a generous meal, and seeing how the rest of the tribe took it in stride, their surprise soon faded.
Kois didn't mind. It had taken the others time to adjust too, until they realised no predators were coming to steal them away in the dark. Everyone, herself included, were far too eager to hear the expedition's story to worry about something as mundane as a bearyena.
After that, it became a feat of mixed emotions. "I didn't imagine you -could- get anyone out there," Vankirvan said, combing through his leaf-green fur. Anameis shot him a glare, ears flattened, and Rara growled, but Laana just looked away.
"He is right, you know," she said. "There was nothing we could have done beyond getting ourselves out. To be honest with all of you, I have not thought of what we would do once we made it back here... all I have been able to think of is running..."
Kois had kept a respectable distance during the story, but now, seeing Laana run her paw across her gems, she came to sit by her side again. Most of the tribe had eaten their fill by now, leaving the carcass stripped to white bone and red viscera. No larger scavengers would dare intrude as long as the tribe stayed nearby, but a few birds, perched in the struggling windswept trees, waited, and a couple of the more bold individuals darted down to snatch up scraps before anyone noticed their presence. Kois left them to it and nuzzled against Laana's side. "Your gems..." she said, softly.
"Not now," Laana said.
---
Kois would not hear that story until evening fell.
The explorers hardly had a moment to themselves all day, but nightfall brought an inevitable end to the flood of questions. Now there was nothing for it but to rest and wait. Kuku had done an admirable job of expanding the dens the tribe found by the riverbank. Nichelings are not burrowers by nature, and most are content to sleep out in the open by natural shelter and windbreaks. But these were not the mild nights of their home island, so the diggers had hollowed out the old ramfox dens to a size big enough for even Kois to squeeze into, if she curled up and stayed low.
But tonight, as the stars began to shine, she walked past the den she normally slept in, and stopped. "May I?"
Inside, she heard a shuffling as Laana looked up. "Yes, please..."
Generously sized as the dens were, Kois still had to crouch and shuffle inside. The air was close, heavy with the scent of earth, roots, and nichelings. Laana was a warm presence by her side. She laid her head over Kois' shoulders, while at her side Yuki slept in a tightly curled up ball. If there was one thing to be thankful for besides the expedition's safe return, it was that the cub had shaken off a little of the quietness that had fallen over him since they left. With Laana safely home he had returned to his bouncy, playful self, until he'd tired himself out from excitement. -Let it last a little longer-, Kois thought. -He has been caught up in too much-. The cub twitched an ear as Kois settled down, but did not wake.
Kois had never been a nicheling of many words. Instead she purred deeply, trying to ease the tension she felt in Laana's body - or was it her own? Slowly Laana relaxed, and laid her head on her forepaws. "I know you want to hear the whole story," she said. "I am sorry I couldn't tell it all. I did break this horn in a fall, but there is more than I could say with everyone listening... and I should not lie to you again."
Kois could tell she expected her to be angry again, and maybe in another time she would have been. But her anger had melted as the snow gathered, with every day of waiting. Gently, she nudged Laana's shoulder. "It's fine. Tell me."
So she listened to Laana's story, not simply what she had told of being trapped with the others in the close confined of the caves, but of their freezing, lightless depths. A chill deeper than the mountain wind set in as Laana told her tale, and she was grateful that, in the dark, Laana could not see her lips curl back and expose her teeth.
Rara had made a declaration at the kill, while telling the shorter version of the story. "If I see any one of them again, they're dead," she'd roared. Laana had called for calm, and Kois backed her up, but now what? It was easy to speak of peace and mercy in daylight. But what of the night, and of nichelings who cast others in the dark to die?
She shivered, recalling an abyss she'd fallen into, not so long ago. Stormy light dancing on the ocean's surface far above, as she sank deeper into the dark...
Kois dug her claws into the den floor.
"And that is what happened to your gems," Kois said, as Laana finished her tale with her emergence from the dark.
"And that is what happened," Laana said. Kois felt her shiver again. "Or what I can remember of what happened. It is that same place again, I know, the place I saw before in the sea caves... but that was so long ago, and we knew we would come back with blue gems. This... I had hoped you would know..."
Kois laid her head on her paws, deep in thought. She had been asking herself the same since Laana's return, poring over every story her parents passed on to her. "I don't," she admitted. Better to say it bluntly, she always thought. But... did she owe Laana more than bluntness? "I have never heard of a nicheling with white gems. But..." She paused, weighing her words. Blunt she might be, but she also trod lightly. "We've all become something new out here. Maybe we have become our own story."
Laana's purr of amusement was nervous, but genuine. "Then I hope it can be one I can tell, and not run from."
"You tell them well," Kois said, "so I expect this will be no different." There was a small silence. "I missed them," she said, eventually.
Laana purred again and nuzzled Kois' ruff. Their scents mingled in the close air and Kois, tentatively, tilted her head aside. She said no more, but words didn't matter when she felt Laana's cheek brush against the smooth surfaces of her gems. Another deep purr escaped her throat, and, for this moment, her world shrunk down to the den and its warmth, the world outside a distant memory.
But no moment could last forever, and in the last of the light Laana turned her head back to the small figure curled up at her side. "Although," she said, "it is because of him, is it not?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Kois purred as Laana laid rested her head on her massive paws. She nuzzled up against the smaller nicheling, and began to gently groom her ruff, smoothing down a few stray hairs. "You came back safe. The rest we will find out in good time."
---
In the warm confines of the den, Yuki lay awake and listened.
Eyes closed, curled up in a ball, anyone would think he was sleeping. Kois and Laana talked on, until they too fell silent and their breathing slowed. Only then did Yuki open his eyes. Starlight traced the faintest of shapes, his world reduced to one of touch and scent. Away from the cold night winds, the den suddenly felt too small, too hot.
He uncurled himself and stood up. He paused, but Laana and Kois didn't move. Slowly he crept to the entrance, keeping a wary ear out for danger. But ramfoxes didn't come this close to the scent of the tribe, and bluebirds never fly at night, so he didn't hesitate long before stepping out and stretching, easing out the tension and stiffness in his body one limb at a time. The wind ruffled his coat, grown thick in response to the cold that no longer bothered him. Above, the stars wove a banner of light across the sky.
Bolder or not, he kept one ear turned towards the den as he approached the river. It had been a happy day, hadn't it? Laana was back, and Kois wasn't angry with her any more. But he couldn't pretend any more that he didn't understand what was going on. He swatted at a pebble, knocking it away into the dark.
And if he didn't watch where he was going, instinct still turned his paws toward the icy peaks...
There was still a dusting of snow over the ground, which was in turn frozen hard under his paws, but even at night the river flowed too fast to freeze. He took a quick drink now, lapping up the icy water. As he stood at the water's edge, he remembered another boundary, too far away for mere paws to take him.
It was strange. Three gems didn't always know the answers to the biggest questions.
But they certainly thought -he- should.