“All right, pay attention!” Quendra barked, as the hunters and huntresses gabbed. She understood why they were distracted; the entire group was still riding the high of successfully freeing Luke. Quendra wanted to join them, but her enthusiasm had been dampened somewhat by Luke’s demeanor.

And truthfully, even if it had not been, Quendra was responsible for ensuring the success of the hunt. It was her responsibility to make sure they didn’t spend so much time celebrating the last kill that they missed the next one.

When, and only when, she had the attention of the five men and women in the armory, she began to speak.

“I will not speak for very long. We have all been on night hunts before. This will be quick, as always. No more than one hundred paces away from the tree, I don’t care if it’s the slowest-moving chaeroal you’ve ever seen, you do not go after it. I don’t want to have to save you from a kipp again. Erak.”

Erak the Hunter blushed, while the other hunters and huntresses laughed good-naturedly; Erak had just lost the “apprentice” from his title twenty days ago, and was a bit overzealous. Though they all hazed him a bit for it, none of them did more than that. They had all been overzealous when they were two-and-a-half.

“Kodei, you are high watch tonight,” Quendra said, handing an hourglass to the dark-haired young woman.

“Yes, Quendra,” Kodei sighed.

“It isn’t a punishment,” Quendra said. “All of us have been injured before, all of us have taken high watch while cursing that we weren’t in the fray. Your arm will heal, and you injured it bringing in a lukkad. No shame in that.”

“I know,” Kodei said. “I just…it’s frustrating.”

“Tell me about it,” a burly man laughed. “Remember when I hurt my knee so bad I couldn’t walk? It was awful. And I was lucky to still be able to do high watch!”

“See?” Quendra said. “And Kith was hurt longer than you will be. Besides, we need you at high watch. You have the best night sight of any of us, and there is no moon tonight.”

Kodei smiled a bit at the complement. “Well, I don’t know that it’s better than yours, Quendra.”

“Trust me, it is. Now, everyone in,” Quendra said, as the hunters and huntresses gathered in a circle. All donned their masks save Quendra, who held hers in the middle so all could lay their hands upon it. When all of them touched it, Quendra said, quietly, “Neth, Wise Spirit of the Hunt, guide our arrows and knives tonight, and let them find their mark; let us find our quarry, that we may feed our sisters and brothers; and should any of us fall, stand watch over our bodies until we become one with the Great Spirit. So let it be.”

“Let it be,” the rest of the hunters intoned solemnly.

Quendra fitted her mask, and nodded. “All right, my stalkers,” she said. “Good hunting.”

—

A cool night breeze blew through Aisell’s hair, announcing the approach of a distant storm. As she walked out through the field, she wondered idly what the wind would feel like to a human. She realized with a start that this wind might be almost enough to move them. The wind from a storm could be enough to literally pick them up, blow houses over. And they’d have to make them all over again. She wondered if being a home builder was a big job for humans. After all, their houses were small, and rain, wind, snow, even water must be able to hurt them. Maybe….

She shook her head. This was not the time. She couldn’t sleep, and if she couldn’t sleep, she had to keep looking. That she could barely hold a line of thought together for more than three steps without jumping to another topic was not something she was concerned with; she was too tired to be concerned with it.

She headed toward the edge of the field, near the woods. She’d start out there, at the furthest point they’d looked. Work her way back. She didn’t expect to find him. But she couldn’t do anything else.

—

Luke was starting to relax, just a bit.

Once he’d gotten used to the fact that his wine was glowing, he found it was actually quite delightful. It was on the sweet side, and bubbly, and tasted…well, tasted quite incredible, frankly. He wished he could get this stuff back to Earth; he’d make a fortune on it.

“So how do you like our home so far, Luke?” Thurfrit asked, offering him a biscuit. They were essentially hardtack – dense flour crackers, designed more for preserving than eating. But Luke dunked his in the bowl of thick syrup just as Thurfrit had, and tried it anyhow; he was surprised to find it wasn’t awful. Oh, it wasn’t good, but it was sweet enough, and the syrup softened up the biscuits enough to make them edible.

“It’s definitely interesting,” Luke said. “Actually, it’s kind of impressive, what you’ve pulled off. How many of you did you say there were?”

“113 of us. 77 adults,” Thurfrit said.

“Wow,” Luke said. 113 humans, living right under the noses of the Marises. He wondered what they’d think of that.

Suddenly, Thurfrit jumped up, as did the others in the room; Luke had no idea why, but feeling it was rude not to, he got out of his seat as well, and turned to see a man enter the hall, older but still fit as a fiddle. “Be seated, my people,” the man said, heading for the throne; he espied Luke, however, and executed a quick turn.

While the rest of the tribe sat, Luke remained standing; it was clear whoever this was, he meant to introduce himself.

“Well,” the man said. “You are the one Quendra rescued, are you not?”

“Yes, I am,” Luke said. “Luke Palmer,” he said, holding out a hand.

The man looked down quizzically; Luke chuckled. “Sorry, old habit. Where I come from, when we meet someone, we shake hands with them. An old custom.”

“Ah!” the man said, and grasped Luke’s firmly. “I see. I am Drugar, Leader of the Tribe.”

“I’m honored to meet you,” Luke said.

They continued shaking hands for a moment, until Luke said, “we can stop if you’d like.”

Drugar laughed. “Very well. It is good to see you awake, Luke Palmer. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you,” Luke said. “It’s very nice.”

“Quite kind of you to say. Your monster-owners must have taught you Titan manners.”

“No, sir,” Luke said. “I was born a free human. On…another world. I was brought here by one of the Titans.”

Drugar raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. Very interesting. Then you must be quite happy to have found your way to us.”

Luke considered his words carefully. He had been kidnapped by these people. He had every right to lay into every one of them.

But somehow, he didn’t think insulting the leader of The Tribe made sense if he wanted to leave with his head intact. At the very least, it was probably a good idea to figure out the lay of the land first. And so, he said simply, “It is truly fascinating, sir.”

Drugar clapped a paw on his shoulder and laughed. “I’m sure it is a lot to take in. I see you’re showing him around, Thurfrit?”

“Yes, Drugar,” Thurfrit said.

“Very well. I will not distract you further. I hope to speak to you further, Luke Palmer. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Luke echoed, as Drugar headed over to his throne.

—

Kodei gave two whistles from high above that echoed the call of a nighthaewr. It was the sign of all-clear, no shaars or kipps in sight – and for that matter, no nighthaewrs. They never whistled before an attack.

Quentra looked at the figures around her, and gave a quick series of hand gestures; she had used just enough glowberry juice on her hand for it to be visible if one looked closely, but not nearly so much as to draw attention from any of their quarry.

The hunters and huntresses nodded, and they fanned out; they were looking for neusals and tupps, which would be semi-active in the dark night; with luck, they’d find a couple quickly and return to the tree.

Quendra edged forward; she knew that Erak was methodically counting his steps right now, as she had done when she was younger. Now, she moved forward on habit, knowing exactly when she would hit 100 paces.

She moved forward into the stiff wind; it was blowing hard and steady. Clearly, a strong storm was coming. She frowned. They would extend the hunt a little; a strong storm could confine them to the tree for days. She did not want to fall behind.

Yes, the stores were full now. But they were halfway to winter; she had lived through one in her childhood where the berries and flour had run out thirty days before the thaw; her father and the other hunters and huntresses had worked themselves to near death trying to find just enough prey in the frozen world to feed the tribe. They had all known hunger that winter; she could not control the gatherers, but she would do everything she could to ensure no children would starve.

Quendra froze in place before she was consciously aware of the sound; her instincts signaled danger before her conscious mind could process it. It was distant, irregular. Barely audible over the sound of the whipping wind. But it was steady. Motion through the distant field, heading their way.

A guardian.

Quendra let out three quick screams, screams that sounded so much like the bark of a kipp that even seasoned hunters could hardly tell the difference. It was not the sound, but the pattern that sent the signal – emergency, fall back to the tree.

Be quiet, of course, was always implied.

She edged backward, keeping an eye on the distant sound. It was edging closer. She repeated the screams, and got a single nighthaewr whistle in return – not all her people were back.

She didn’t have time to worry about that, though, because the sound had changed. It was faster. Louder. Harsher. It was moving. Quickly. Relentlessly.

Right toward her.

—

Aisell was near the woods when she heard the kipp. A barking kipp. Lezah had sure thought that a kipp had taken Luke. Broke through the screen, took him from the windowsill, grabbed him and took him.

Took him from her.

It barked again, and without thinking, Aisell began to run toward the sound, into the woods. She ran at full speed toward the sound, already trying to gauge distance. She would kill the gorram thing, kill it so dead its ancestors would be removed from the very fabric of existence. She would rip it limb from limb. She would visit upon it all the anger and rage and fear and frustration and remorse that sat in her gut, just waiting to explode. The kipp had lit the fuse; Aisell was going to blow.

She came to a clearing near an old, gnarled ikkal tree; she spun around in a circle, trying to get her bearings, daring the kipp to bark once more. She was certain it was close. She could feel it. She was right on top of it.

And in a way, she was. For as Aisell turned, Quendra was forced to dive out of the way of enormous shuffling feet, longer than the doors of the Great Hall. She felt sure she had been heard, especially when Eyes Like Ice pulled out a light from her pocket, illuminating the clearing around the tree as if it was day – or at the very least, dusk.

WHAM! A mighty footfall knocked Quendra from her feet; Eyes Like Ice paced a short distance, and then suddenly reversed course and – WHAM! – knocked Quendra over again. This time she stayed on the ground, no more than a human’s length away from the worn white canvas of the guardian’s shoe.

The mighty guardian was looking for something. Luke Palmer, most likely. If Quendra’s heart had not been beating nearly out of her chest with fear, she might have had time to be impressed with the guardian’s tenacity. As it was, she simply flattened herself against the ground, hoping against hope that Eyes Like Ice would not step on her, hoping against hope that if she did, at least her hunters and huntresses would make it back alive and undetected.

Suddenly, a voice rung out from the heavens, shaking Quendra to her core. “Where are you!?” it cried, in a rage. “Gorram! I know you’re around here!”

Did she know? Could she possibly know? They had been so careful – she had even cut the screen in such a way as to make it look like a kipp or shaar could have made the incision. Had they left evidence of their existence?

Quendra considered calling out to the monster, admitting that she, and she alone, had freed Luke; she was already planning her story – that she had escaped from other monsters, that she had seen him, he had left her and gone in the opposite direction….

“Gorram kipp!” the monster shouted, and Quendra let out a sigh of relief. All right. Okay. It was okay. That an 800 ton woman was just a sidestep away from ending her life was of little concern, as long as she hadn’t betrayed The Tribe.

Aisell listened, but there was no sound but the light breeze. She sighed, took a step or two forward, and doused the light. Slowly, wearily, she lowered herself to the ground. She pulled her knees up to her chest and folded her arms atop them, and lay her head down atop her arms, too full of emotion to feel anything at all.

Quendra gawked as the giantess dropped, nearly sitting upon her – the concussion of which would have knocked Quendra down had she been foolish enough to stand up. She fought the panic that rose within her as the monstrous woman landed beside her. Quendra stared back at the giant’s short breeches – so short they only reached mid-thigh – and dared to roll over.

What she saw was enough for her to scream, were she not far more terrified of harming The Tribe. The canvas shoes of the monster were sliding back toward her, and suddenly, they surrounded her, leaving Quendra in the no man’s land between Eyes Like Ice’s pelvis and feet.

Quendra shivered despite the blazing heat of the monster, giving the cool night the temperature of a warm day. (Quendra studiously ignored that the heat seemed to rise nearest her head – that was both biologically understandable and disgusting). The air was filled with a thick miasma of biological odors – the smell of a woman who had worked hard, and was in desperate need of a bath, only magnified so greatly that the tiny huntress felt as if she could grab a handful of it and mold it into a figurine.

Quendra wiped her brow miserably. She could think of no worse place to perish. And she had no option but to stay here. There was no good exit. She could maybe try to slide out through one of the gaps between her massive thighs and her massive shoes, but she didn’t think she could do so without making noise, and given how badly she shook, probably not without running into the monster’s very flesh. Quendra closed her eyes, and tried to shut out everything. The more she thought, the more the panic increased. She had to stay still. She had no other choice. She would just have to hope the giant creature would not adjust her seat.

But luck was on Quendra’s side; Aisell was in no mood to move, or do anything at all. She wanted to cry, but no tears would come; wanted to scream, but her voice was silenced. She sat there for a long, long time – she lost track of time, but it was the better part of an hour – completely oblivious to the tiny person cowering beneath her, or the chill of the approaching rain shower, or the silence of the wood. Oblivious to everything but her grief, which washed over her like a tsunami.

At long last, Aisell rolled over onto her side, and clumsily regained her feet. It was not the kipp’s fault, if the kipp had even taken Luke – it was an animal. It had no responsibility to him.

She had failed him. He was lost. And there was nobody to blame but herself.

Slowly, with feet scuffing the ground, Aisell walked out of the woods and through the field. Not toward the house. Not toward anything in particular. There was no destination that would make it better. Only her failure. Only her guilt. Only her loss.

Quendra waited some time before she dared to get up. She was not sure what had just happened, and not sure she cared; she was just grateful to be alive and – she was amazed to see – successful. For though she hadn’t known it, the guardian’s toe had collided with a tupp, sending it flying; the creature was half-dead, not twenty paces from Quendra, and within a bare moment, it was all-dead. She looked back after the monster trudging away, and sighed. She was half tempted to issue one last kipp scream, a defiant, victorious taunt. But instead, she gave three quick whistles – all clear, come to my side. She would need help carrying her kill back.

And a very large mug of wine.

—

“Did you sleep at all?”

Aisell started at the voice of her younger sister; she’d been staring at the pond for what felt like forever, through the dark night and as the sun began to creep over the horizon. It would be wrong to say she was thinking, or grieving, or lamenting her loss. She was simply sitting on her boulder, gazing out over the pond, completely insensate.

“I might have gotten an hour or two,” Aisell said, quietly. “Got up. Couldn’t stay in bed. Tried to look for him, but….”

She shrugged, as if that explained everything.

Aezhay sat down beside her sister, and put her arm around her.

“So did Lezah send you to get me?”

“No,” Aezhay said. “She figures you don’t really want to see her.”

Aisell looked over at Aezhay; that sentence had actually broken through enough to surprise her.

“Why would…why?” Aisell said.

“Because she lost Luke,” Aezhay said. “She feels awful about it. She thinks she let you down.”

“Yeah,” Aisell said. “I s’pose. Not her fault though,” she murmured, stifling a yawn. “It’s mine.”

Aezhay was quiet; this was not her forte. She wasn’t particularly good at talking things out. Especially when the thing she wanted to say to both her sisters was, Get a grip! It’s a gorram pet!

But she didn’t; she wasn’t sure what their reaction to that would be, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

And truly…Aezhay had met some other “pets” who were nothing of the sort, not really. And if one of them was lost…she and her friends would feel exactly like Aisell and Lezah did.

“So are you gonna just sit here staring at the pond all day?” she finally asked.

“No,” Aisell said, quietly, getting to her feet. She walked toward the house, overwhelmed by the desolation in the center of her soul. Luke was gone. And in a corner of her mind, she knew he was never coming back. But it would be a long time before she could even begin to accept that – and much longer before that gaping wound would start to heal.