CONTENT WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS THEMES OF ANIMAL BUTCHERING AND PROFANITY WHICH MAY BE UPSETTING FOR SOME READERS.

~o~

Jiro pressed forward in the undergrowth where the soil roughened beneath his feet. The green vegetation of the land ate up the lower part of his body while the shadows of the branches above shaded his path. Only a glimmer of sunlight escaped through the gaps between the leaves of trees to help him find what he was looking for.

"You lost the trail, didn't you, little cloud?" Hako said. He and three other men—Shoka, Tata Ero, and Tata Ravack—flew beside Jiro. They floated with their bellies to the ground, waiting for Jiro to signal. Their spears waited on hand, and their bolos hung on their belts.

A moment ago, indications dented the land that an animal had passed by, but now, the trail became invisible to Jiro. He continued to move forward until he reached a small clearing. The forest floor herded the grass to one side. The ground felt dry and flat under his heels. Red bougainvilleas surrounded the small patch, and the overgrown fiery shrubs bent in a whirl, catching them at the center of a red storm.

When Jiro paused, the four men who floated beside him landed on their feet, releasing their Lift.

"Well?" Hako said, giving an annoyed scowl. He was young, only a year older than Jiro, but he looked more than nine years over his first decade. A scar cut across the bridge of his nose—one of the prominent marks he had come back with from the war. His black hair gathered in a tight tie, pulling at his high forehead, wrinkled with angry lines. And like all the Aradacko, Hako's eyes were bright and shining silver.

"Shush," said Tata Ravack, the leader of their hunting pack.

Hako ignored Tata Ravack and continued to taunt Jiro. "What now, little cloud?"

Hako had given Jiro the nickname little cloud. When they were children, Jiro had been so small that he could fly and hide behind the faintest clouds, but he'd grown since then and wasn't so little anymore.

"Son," Tata Ero said with a calm voice, and Hako took a step back, heeding his father's warning.

"Come on, little cloud. Hurry up." Hako stepped farther from Jiro, and the air ruffled the three feathers pinned on his armband. Underneath the woven zarok textile of red and black stripes, a patterned tattoo covered the entirety of his right arm.

To the Aradacko, tattoos were a sign of their authority and adulthood. The inks on their bodies represented their achievements.

Jiro glanced at his marks, a design of geometric shapes tracing his forearm, lines following the direction of his point, and weaving with intersecting curves. He'd only received his first inks a few months ago, and it made him feel like a real man, but comparing it now with the tattoos of the others gave him the realization that he had more to achieve.

"Jiro?" Shoka, the younger brother of Hako, spoke, clutching at the bow slung on his shoulder.

"We should move on," Tata Ero said.

"Jiro?" Tata Ravack whispered.

Where are you? Jiro thought. He didn't want to give up. His eyes darted all over the ground.

He saw the fine cracks in the soil and the tiny sprouts attempting to survive on the impoverished shaded dirt. He saw the tiny insects that crawled in a disciplined line on a hidden mound at the edge of the undergrowth.

These details were too difficult for the others to notice but not for Jiro. He shined in this process. It was as if the talent was innate to his blood, but now he couldn't see what he was searching for, his ability failing him.

"Here." Hako stood near a young bougainvillea, and he pointed at the ground. Everyone, including Jiro, turned to him. "There's a trail here."

Tata Ravack, Tata Ero, and Shoka walked to where Hako stood while Jiro remained where he was.

That trail was almost a day old. It wasn't fresh, and Jiro had seen it moments ago, even before the other men landed on the clearing.

The previous tracks he found in the forest—the prints and the scat—suggested that they were following a nouse. If they could catch it, it would feed their families for days. But he was searching for a more recent track. That trail, the one Hako found, wouldn't lead them to the nouse, so he ignored it.

"The beast went that way." Hako pointed to the north.

"That print is old," Jiro said, but only Tata Ravack stopped to listen to him. Hako, Shoka, and their father proceeded among the red bushes, pushing themselves off and flying. Their bare feet lifted, defying the pull of the forest floor.

Jiro kneeled and touched the ground, feeling the rough set of grime. His fingers came away with dust.

Animals won't be able to leave prints on this type of soil, he thought.

He then leaned his face down with his cheek pressed to the dirt and focused. The floor was even, only jutted where the grass and trees grew. He saw the same things he'd seen when he was standing, but then— It was only a tiny depression, almost unnoticeable.

Jiro grinned. I found you.

He pushed himself up. Once he found that slightest indentation, he saw another, and then another and more. He followed the trail until he reached a large gathering of red bushes, their base littered with fallen petals of bougainvillea.

In careful steps, he pressed into the thicket. A few strides in, and he heard a twig snap. The sound came ahead of him, where the leaves and the fiery flowers rustled.

As he looked closer into the bushes, furious dark eyes stared back from beneath the tangle of branches.

Red and white fur covered its body. Its chest and the tip of its long tail were black. Its pointy ears came alert as it emerged from the bushes. The creature, a nouse, thrust its single horn at Jiro.

He froze. He didn't expect the nouse to attack. At full-grown, it towered over him, almost twice his height.

His legs stayed rooted there, waiting for the beast's horn to skewer him. But before it did, Tata Ravack jumped at him. They both rolled on the ground as the nouse growled.

A stabbing of pain pulsed from Jiro's side. A sharp branch had caught him right under his rib, slicing his skin. The wound wasn't deep, and he was more worried about the animal trying to kill him, but it started to bleed.

"Haa!" Tata Ravack shot up and shouted, raising his spear at the beast. "Run, Jiro! Fly!" he said without looking.

Jiro scrambled to his feet. He had no spear but a bolo hung at his waist. He reached for it as the animal charged again. The nouse ignored Tata Ravack and directed its horn to Jiro. It lunged, pushing the older man aside. Jiro's hand landed on the hilt of his weapon, but terror gripped him, and his arms and legs wouldn't move.

The nouse rushed to him, and Jiro could only stare and wait for the pain, but the animal suddenly stumbled in front of him. When it fell on its side, he saw a spear stuck to its belly.

"Fly!" Hako raced down fast in flight toward the nouse. He had thrown his weapon and struck it to the ground.

Despite its wound, the beast stood up, and its eyes stayed on Jiro. It wavered but kept upright, growling savagely as the spear remained buried on its side.

Jiro was about to fly, but when he stepped back, his foot caught on the root of a tree, and he stumbled, falling on his back.

The nouse came upon him, thrusting its horn again.

"You useless cloud!" Hako shouted. He dove at the animal with a bolo, slicing its flesh where the spear had pierced its skin. The beast swayed and moaned as Hako raised the blade again. This time, he aimed at its neck and struck. Blood splattered all over him and Jiro, the sudden splash of vile fluid catching them. Hako grunted as the nouse crashed dead, quaking the earth on impact.

Jiro's heart raced as if it were trying to escape his chest. He stayed on the ground, heaving and locked with fear. What he did was reckless. He could've died if not for Hako.

"Don't ruin the pelt!" Tata Ero shouted from a distance. He and his younger son, Shoka, flew down in time to warn them before Hako could hack at the creature again.

Jiro breathed hard and trembled. He should be dead, but he was not. Hako saved his life.

Nouses were creatures that only became aggressive when their territories were disturbed. Jiro should not have gone too far into its perimeter, but he was too excited to prove Hako wrong that he had put himself and Tata Ravack in danger. A spear or Shoka's bow could have taken the beast down from afar. A single arrow to its neck would have sufficed, and the pelt would have remained undamaged.

"You little piece of shit!" Hako stepped toward Jiro. "Did you want to die?! Why didn't you fly?" His nostrils flared. If Jiro could describe fury, it would be the image painted on the other boy's face now, a mix of anger and bloodlust. Hako gripped his bolo covered in blood. The same gruesome scarlet coated his face and dark hair.

"That's enough, Hako," Tata Ravack stepped between them.

Hako bared his teeth, then turned his back and looked at the fallen beast. He pulled out his spear from the side of the dead animal, grunting with annoyance.

Jiro let out a breath. He stilled for a moment and was unsure of what he was more afraid of—Hako with a bolo or the nouse thrusting its horn at him.

He pushed himself up to stand on shaky legs and looked down at his trembling hands covered in blood. A tingle came from the wound on his side, a wound that would heal fast. He tried to breathe in to let the humid air calm him down, but it didn't work.

"That's a big one." Shoka whistled, ignoring Jiro. "We'll have to cut out the meat from the bones to make it lighter for us to carry back. We should do this quickly. The sun's getting low," he said, examining the animal and drawing a knife. He pulled out sacks from his rattan bag and dropped them on the ground.

"Start skinning," Tata Ravack said, stepping back to give the boy room.

"Do not destroy the hide or what's left of it," Tata Ero commanded again, his eyes roving the massive beast and its several wounds.

Shoka pulled out his bolo and hacked at the animal's neck, where Hako had already made a large cut. He slashed until he severed the head, allowing more blood to spill. He sat back for a moment, letting it drain. It flowed to the earth and stained the soil. Then with his knife, he gutted the beast from its belly to its neck. He moved to each of the nouse's front legs, cutting them open from the point before the hooves to the inside of the shoulder joints.

Tata Ero kneeled and pulled out his kampit, the knife of a Rakitt Maharlika—a sky warrior. Its turquoise hilt was a contrast against the branches of bougainvillea around them. He positioned himself by the animal's rear and began cutting the flesh of its hind legs. He and Shoka peeled away the skin of the beast inch by inch until they revealed the pinkish-white meat and flesh covered in red and green veins.

Jiro had stepped back from the butchering. He was not estranged from this process. He had his fair share of skinning animals. Most of them were smaller. He knew what flesh felt like under his palms. Still, nausea overcame him, but he didn't turn away. He watched as Tata Ero thrust the kampit into the nouse's belly, dragging it toward the chest and letting all its insides spill. The stomach, the spleen, and the intestines gurgled out and released a nasty gas.

Hako cleaned off the blood from his bolo with one of the sacks that Shoka had brought. He glanced at Jiro with a sneer.

Despite the look, Jiro thanked the boy in silence for saving his life, something he would never say out loud. He turned the sneer away. Now all he could do was watch as the others chopped the nouse into pieces.

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