We stopped to camp for the night about an hour ago. It took a while to help the adults set up the gers, but now that our shelter for the night is set up, I have some free time.

I decide to go angling. Grabbing my angler line and checking that my knife is secured to my waist, I walk until I’m a couple hundred paces from camp. Sand spreads in all directions around me, the desert extending far beyond my line of sight. The mountains in the north are the only remotely interesting difference along the horizon.

Well, as boring as the desert is, at least angling is always kinda fun. Crouching low to the ground, I unsheathe my knife and hold it in front of me, ready to strike with a twitch of my arm. I dangle the angler line from my other hand and slowly drag the rock tied at one end along the sand. My angler is a string made from a bunch of animal hairs tied to a stone at one end. Uncle had shown me how to make them myself a year ago, and ever since I’ve been forced to remake my angler whenever it breaks. I preferred when he let me use the one he made, his don’t break as easily as mine do.

I make sure to keep the angler at arm's length from my body. I’ve had my fingers bitten enough times to have learnt my lesson.

I tug on the string, dragging the rock through the sand for almost ten minutes when finally, I get a bite. With a burst, sand flies everywhere and a sand-worm bites at the stone of my angler. With its teeth latched around the stone, I quickly bring my knife down onto its back and cut through the soft flesh.

The worm, almost as long as my arm but as thin as a finger, squirms around on the sand without its head. It always creeps me out how they twist and squirm when they die, although it doesn’t take too long for the worm’s erratic movements to still.

Mum told me once that the sand-worms misunderstand the movement of the stone as that of a jerboa. Because of this, we can mislead them into thinking they can get an easy meal, which allows us to have an easy meal.

I still think it’s amazing that they can feel movement through the sand. It's no wonder you can find them everywhere, cause jerboas are everywhere. It must be like a free lunch for them whenever a swarm of jerboas run along.

I catch two more sand-worms, these ones slightly smaller, before the sun sets and I have to rejoin the tribe. I quickly show off my catch to uncle Rivin. After receiving his praise, I get to skinning the worms. We could just eat all of it, as they are super delicious, but the skin can be used in the lining of our tarps. We could use it for other stuff like clothes, but to create a tarp needs hundreds of worm skins. So after skinning the worm and storing the meat for myself, I toss the skin in a cart piled up with them and other unused animal parts.

❖❖❖

A few days later, the sand is finally replaced by rocky ground. While the colour of everything stays the same, at least the landscape itself differs from the horrible repetition of the sandy desert dunes. Not by much, though. While the possibilities of these rock-lands can sometimes be impressive, with massive boulders balanced in seemingly impossible ways or vast valleys and canyons. Most of the time, rock-lands tend to just be the same as the desert, but with rock instead of sand.

Fortunately, today seems like a lucky day. The sheer walls of the canyon rise high around us as the elders lead us through the wide, bowl-like valley. The rattle of our wagons being pulled over hard rock echoes around us, overwhelming the quiet chatter from a few of my tribesmen. Many of them have their eyes glued to the surrounding canyon, wary of an ambush or pursuers.

The attack over a week ago had not been the first, but it had been, by far, the most devastating. We had lost nine of our own and I’m ashamed to admit it, but I hadn’t even paid attention to any of their losses except my mum’s. My chest hurt now even thinking about her and I know many of those around me feel the same way.

Many are worried. The first attack we fought them off without issue, but the monsters tracked us down within the week and slaughtered over a third of us.

My elders don’t tell me anything, not thinking I can ‘handle’ the news. But they talk, and they don’t always realise I can hear them, thinking I’m asleep or just not paying attention. I’ve overheard them talking about the concerning ability our pursuers have of controlling water.

Water is… not really something I know anything about except how ‘dangerous’ and ‘scary’ my elders tell me it is. But, when I see even the strongest of my elders shifting their eyes in paranoia, I can’t help but feel a knot in my chest.

I look up at the walls of the canyon closing around us the further in we go. The canyon slowly closes into a ravine with towering cliffs blocking the sky from all but directly above.

A shrill whistle echoes around us and we slow to a stop at elder Cyrus’ signal. I look to the sky in search of the source of the whistle. It is rather easy to spot the bright glow of the fiery bird. Her wings each as long as I am tall and flames a bright yellow are unmistakable from this distance.

She flies at an envious pace until she reaches our caravan and lands on the wagon at the front with the other elders.

Elder Enya is one of the most amazing áed I know. Her binding with fire has reached the highest rank our tribe has seen in generations. At least that’s what my mum said. She idolised her, so, of course, I think she’s incredible too.

Everyone gathers around elder Enya, wondering what she has found. Because of her ability to alter her form, elder Enya has the greatest capability for scouting. Of course, we don’t rely solely on her, but she can cover so much more ground than anyone else.

“Everyone, I have found a cluster of chthonic. They have dug themselves into the walls of the gorge ahead of us and are likely to ambush us should we push forward,” Enya says. I’ve always found it strange to hear her voice coming through her beak in this form.

“Is there any way around?” elder Cyrus asks.

Enya was probably expecting his question, as she was quick to answer. “There is, but it would delay us a few days at minimum and it would take us through chameleon territory.”

The elders seem thoughtful and unsurprisingly auntie Kay is the first to insert her opinion. “If there is risk either way, then why not just push through the gorge and take on the chthonic? At least we know we’ll get something from wiping them out. I’m sure their tunnels are filled with ore.”

Her broad smile and the fact that she is almost bouncing on her feet make me think she’s more excited at the idea of a fight than any interest she may have in the ore.

Uncle does not agree, though. “If we go through the Chameleon’s territory, then at least a fight isn’t guaranteed. If we are careful, those fat lizards won't even bother to move.”

Ready to defend her opinion, auntie turns to Uncle Rivin. “You know what those things prey on, right? What happens if…” Auntie Kay is interrupted by elder Cyrus. “Stop, stop. Yes, we all know what would happen if there is a nest of those around, so we will proceed with our current path,” he says, then looks at uncle. “Objections?”

Uncle shakes his head nonplussed, and then we are off again.

Elder Cyrus approaches uncle and me once the caravan begins moving.

“Solvei, I believe now is a good time for you to learn to fight. I’m not going to have you fight just yet, but I want you to be there watching when the fight starts. Make sure that you stick close to Rivin now, okay?” Elder Cyrus says.

“Really?” I ask.

I have always been kept as far away from fights as the tribe could keep me. I always hate that I am the only one who isn’t allowed to take part. If we ever need to fight, everyone in the tribe will join in. No one in our tribe wouldn’t fight for the protection of their family. Of course, some are stronger warriors than others, but everyone knows how to wield a weapon, and our flames when needed. Everyone except me, that is. I’d always been told to wait until I was older, no matter how much I try to prove I am ready.

So if I am finally being given the opportunity to be included, I will happily jump at it, even if I am only being allowed to watch.

Unfortunately, uncle doesn’t seem to agree with me. Dropping the shafts of the wagon, he raises his voice at the elder. “You can’t! It’s still much too early for her. And it hasn’t even been two weeks since we lost a third of our tribe. Why would you risk her now?” he pleads.

He simply wants to protect me, but it annoys me he won’t give me the opportunity to prove myself. I want to contribute my part to the tribe. I want to show everyone that I am valuable, even if I’m not as strong. And if I can learn to fight too, I might be able to prevent any more deaths in the future. At the very least I won’t be a burden on those who would protect me.

I know I can’t do much now, but if I try, I might find a way forward for myself. I might discover a way to be beneficial to the tribe.

As I’m about to argue against uncle Rivin, elder Cyrus does it for me. “It is exactly because we had such loss that she should start. There is a greater need for her to learn now than ever.” He says sternly, locking eyes with uncle. After holding his gaze for a moment, Cyrus sighs and continues. “Besides, what will happen if we get into another conflict we can’t handle? She should be able to protect herself should she find herself in a situation where we cannot help her.”

At elder’s words, uncle turns away, looking towards the rest of the caravan that has now opened up a generous distance between us. He snatches the handles of his wagon from the ground and begins moving again without a word.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Elder Cyrus shifts his attention to me. “After you have watched how we fight for the first time, I’ll have Kay begin your weapon training. You want to learn the spear, right?”

I nod emphatically at him. “Yes, elder!”

The spear is the weapon my mum used. She was the best in the tribe with it and was even allowed to use one of our tribe’s special relic weapons. Her spear is made of dark silver metal with pearly white engravings lining its length. The three relic weapons we have are unique as they enhance our control and power over the flames pushed through the weapon. Mum described it as the weapon becoming like an extension of her arm.

Now that I am finally allowed to train with the spear, I want nothing more than to make my mum proud and earn the right to use our tribe’s cherished spear, just as she had.

“Good.” Satisfied, elder Cyrus nods and walks off.

I run back to uncle’s side and settle into a comfortable stride beside him.

We walk in silence for half an hour before uncle speaks up. “Solvei, stop here for a second.” he puts down the handles of his cart once again and removes a small red pouch from his belt. He turns and hands it to me.

“I should have given this to you a while ago now. It was your mother’s.”

I gingerly take the pouch and pull the strings to look inside. Mum’s dark glass marble is held within. She always held onto it when she was still with us, she thought of it as a lucky charm. The marble is the size of my palm. The glass looks impossibly dark and I’m unable to see out the other side at all. Despite the marble’s incredibly black glass, the focal point at the core of the marble is clear to see.

A bright pink flame frozen within the marble is completely visible from any direction, as if the marble was not even there. The flame is incredible to look at. It doesn’t move at all but still seems to burn strong. The colour itself is unheard of. I’ve seen elder Cyrus reach a blue near-invisible flame, but never anything like this pink.

“Solvei.” Uncle Rivin snaps my attention away from the marble. I look up and lock eyes with him.

“I need you to promise me you will keep yourself safe. I need you to promise that when we engage the enemy, you will do nothing but stay by my side and put yourself at no more risk than necessary.”

I don’t want to worry Uncle so much, so I give him an immediate response. “I promise, Uncle.”

Uncle has changed a lot since mum passed, he no longer raises his voice in every conversation and his temperament has become much calmer. I appreciate everything he has done since she left us. He’s stayed right by my side ever since mum was taken and moments like this show how much he cares.

I wouldn’t have thought the same before the incident. Both he and mum taught me to control my fire. He used to get angry at me a lot when I failed in the tasks he gave me, and afterwards, he would give me harder and harder objectives to reach.

I thought he hated me.

I feel guilty for having thought that. He has proven he cares, I was probably sulking because his training was so hard. I hope he stays this way though, an angry Rivin is a scary Rivin.

Nodding in contentment — and probably not knowing about my inner thoughts — uncle returns to pulling the wagon along as elder Cyrus calls for everyone to fall into position.

The last of elder Enya’s feathers merge into her arm as she finishes her transformation. Having spent the past thirty minutes changing back into her more standard form, it looks like she’ll be joining the fight this time.

The elders all concentrate at the front with a few more of our better warriors. Kay is walking there beside them, holding her poleaxe casually over her shoulder.

Me, my uncle and the three other wagons are concentrated towards the centre of the formation.

As we move further into the ravine, a group of three on each side separate from the caravan and begin scaling the sides of the gorge, following our caravan from above. As we advance, our formation solidifies. The better warriors take the front with their weapons, while everyone else takes a position behind them.

The line of tribesmen curves around our wagons, covering the front and sides while only leaving a few at the rear. Or at least that’s how it should have gone from memory. Now, the loss of so many members is so much more obvious than before. Whereas previously, a wall of áed stood at the front and still left some to guard the rear, now we only have four at the front and only Enya left to defend our back. Of course, if a fight actually starts, Uncle and the three others pulling their respective carts can easily join in. I have seen each of them effectively wield their own weapons after all. But with so many missing, it feels empty.

We travel like this for nearly half an hour. I try to watch along the gorge walls for the chthonic or the tunnels they are known for. I don’t see anything, but the elders must have because elder Cyrus calls for us to halt.

With a flick of his wrist, Cyrus sends a flare into the sky and then commands everyone. “Defensive positions.”

Still not seeing any enemies, I cast my gaze around the gorge. I don’t see any tunnel openings or anything else we should be worried about.

The other wagon carriers around us drop their handles and join auntie Kay and the elders at the front, forming a line across the ravine. Uncle leads me behind the carts to join Enya, who hardly acknowledges us and keeps her eyes scanning the walls behind us.

This is usually where I would be taken away by Uncle and sometimes another tribesman until the fighting is over. The few times our tribe had been surrounded, where we couldn't run, I’d been hidden under a wagon and Uncle would make sure I never had the chance to actually watch any fighting myself.

When everyone is in position, a flicker of movement attracts my attention to the top of the right ledge. The flanking groups on both sides of the canyon descend with hurried steps. When did I lose sight of them? I hadn’t really been paying attention to them, but I would get grouched at by Uncle if he’d known, saying I don’t focus enough on my spatial awareness.

As the flankers reach about a third of the way down, they disappear from sight. From where I am, it looks like there can’t be a gap large enough to even hide an arm behind, and yet three áed easily disappear. On both sides.

I look up at Uncle but his face remains still, he doesn’t seem surprised at all. Turning back to the ravine walls, I finally realise what they found. It must be the chthonic’s tunnels. I never thought they’d be so well hidden, how did elder Cyrus notice them so quickly?

I cast my gaze across the rest of the valley ahead of me, how many more are hidden from sight? Is there one right beside me? I glare at the closest rock wall, daring it to hide a tunnel from me.

Shrill, high-pitch shrieks crash through the silence of the area. Smoke billows out of the tunnel entrances, both the two that our tribe used to enter, and many more along the walls ahead of us. I spin around, making sure the wall beside me doesn’t suddenly become a tunnel.

The shrieks pick up in intensity and a creature that can only be one of the horribly ugly chthonic surge out of a tunnel ahead of us.

The creature has long arms with terrifyingly long claws scratching deep into the rock underneath as it throws itself towards our defensive line. Its wild, erratic eyes twitch, scanning over my tribe as it charges towards us. The chthonic reaches incredible speeds, its long blade-like claws digging into the hard stone as it launches itself forward.

I grab at Uncle's arm as the creature literally throws itself towards our tribe with no hesitation.

It doesn’t even come close. The chthonic is burnt to a crisp the moment our tribe hurls our fire towards it. Scorched ash is all that remains.

While the single chthonic was early to the fight, its brethren are not far behind. Hundreds of the monsters erupt out of the tunnels. They quickly fill the gorge ahead of us, rushing with unwavering blood lust towards us. Their mad fixation on us has them clawing over one another, cutting into many of their own in their attempt to get to us as fast as possible.

The sight drains the strength out of my legs and I hug myself to Uncle’s side. He is quick to put an arm around my shoulder and hold me close. I appreciate it, half hiding my body from the charging monsters.

The chthonic are throwing themselves into the constant stream of fire our tribe is throwing out towards them. So many of them die immediately. But many still break through, either flinging themselves over the streams or shambling over the walls at the sides. Those jumping over the wall of flames are immediately cut down, preventing the chthonic from breaching their formation. Those climbing the walls suddenly screech in pain as the walls they are climbing ignites. Most are burnt on the spot and the chthonics that survive launch themselves at my tribesmen have their bodies pierced, cut open and body limbs cut off before bursting into flame.

Over the sound of the chthonic shrill screams, a loud roar cuts the air. The wave of monsters still for a moment, then split down the middle. A chthonic larger than any other stands between them all, holding itself with its arms, legs barely touching the ground below it. Its claws are longer than the entire length of my arms and they dig deep into the stone below it, simply under its weight.

One more roar reverberates in my ears as it charges through the other chthonic, shredding any of its brethren that don’t get out of its way in time. Its claws tear apart the stone below it, sending rocks flying. Its speed increases with every swipe of its long arms.

Both my pop and elder Angarika run forward into the path of the monster. Pop holds his long sabre, while Angarika readies his halberd for the gigantic chthonic charging towards them.

Both weapons are burning a bright near-white yellow, the flames hot even from as far as I am from the fight.

The giant chthonic catapults itself towards the two elders, both claws posed to strike. I am only able to see elder Angarika block the claws, but Poppy’s arm moves too quickly to see. It’s obvious what happens, though; pop cuts the massive chthonic right down the middle. Both elders step out of its path and let it collapse behind them before moving deep into the chthonic crowd. The fallen chthonic screeches and lashes out at the closest of its kin for a few moments before the life finally leaves it and its movements slow to a stop.

Pop and Angarika push through the chthonic, dismembering or killing with each swing of their respective weapon, sometimes launching waves of scorching hot flames through the horde.

The fight does not last much longer, many of the remaining chthonic scramble to escape. The flanking units cut the stragglers down as they come out of the smoking tunnel system.

I shiver a bit at the remaining bodies buried and burning within piles of ash. The chthonic are terrifying, horrible creatures. But they could do nothing, even with them outnumbering us by an incredible amount. They attacked and were all slaughtered. How could something so scary be dealt with so easily? How can we take these insane creatures out without a sweat, but lose so many to a small group of strangers?

Thankfully, it doesn’t look like anyone was injured in the fight. Uncle Rivin nudges me and I realise I am still clinging to him. Loosening my grip on his body and grabbing his hand, he slowly leads me to the burning pile of corpses.

I am hesitant to go towards such an ugly scene, but Uncle is insistent, pulling me along. Once he considers us close enough, we stop and he says to me, “Remember, we have taken their lives, so it is up to us to make sure they have not perished for nothing. Take their energy, Solvei, send out your inner fire and consume them.”

I do as he says and send out as much of my inner flame as I can. It coats the ground as it approaches the leftover corpses. My darker red flame, much weaker than everyone else’s fire, slowly eats away at the flesh of the monsters.

I have to look away because of how disgusting the view is, but as much as I look away, my inner flame is still a part of myself and I feel the creatures burn away, fuelling my flame and enhancing myself. Really, I’d get a less detailed image of the disgusting creatures if I only had to look.

I’ve killed plenty of sand-worms myself and consumed plenty of creatures in the same way, but it feels different this time. These creatures that had such blood-lust for our deaths, creatures we slaughter without hesitation.

It’s not like I regret we killed them. We have to do what we can to survive. And if we try to leave them be, it’s unlikely the chthonic will return the sentiment. So why do I find it hard to watch such a scene? Why is it hard to watch their deaths if it is for our survival?

Maybe I pity them, or maybe the deaths in our tribe have shown me how sad death is.

I finish burning through the corpses I’ve been allowed and move away as everyone else burns a portion for themselves.

I return with Uncle to the wagons to set up our ger. With a tunnel network to explore and many needing time to rest after the fight, we’ll be here for a few days.