My abs ache from the constant cough, but I stop myself from doubling over. I sit tall, showing no weakness to my triad as my eyes constantly search the plains for any signs of impending attack. I gasp for air, breathing in the coldness of the evening and feeling renewed. The cough dissipates after five heartbeats, much quicker than the hours I spent hacking in the darkness of my cave home. I smile, enjoying the feeling of being able to breathe clearly. There are few things better in life than fresh air after you’ve been denied the taste of it, water after your throat is wracked with thirst, or hunger after your empty belly aches.
There’s only one sensation greater than filling your lungs with fresh air, after gasping for breath for so long.
The sensation of being with your mate.
Soon, we will earn her. But first, we must find a new home for our tribe – far from the pain and sickness of our old home.
“Your cough improves. Chief Rattler was right. We need to find a new spot for our tribe to live – one in the fresh air that cures the sickness.” Hadone’s voice is calm as he speaks.
His voice may sound calm, but I know that inside he’s worried. I can feel the tendrils of stress through the Bond. The two Aurelians at the fire with me have been in my mind for almost the entirety of my two-hundred-and-fifty years of life, and through the power of our telepathic Bond, I know their auras almost as well as my own mind.
Hadone and Darok had suffered the same sickness as I was recovering from, but they’d healed just two days after we departed our cave in search of a safe new home for our tribe. We’d struck out in a new direction – knowing the northlands were filled with violent mountain Aurelians, known for their unpredictability. To the south were the lush and lavish lands of the soft tribes – the ones that bask in warmth and fight with long ranged arrows. We call them soft – but they guard their territory jealously.
My Scorp-Blood tribe had lived underground – but now our cavernous home is a shadow of what it once was. There once was a time when it was filled with laughter, the sound of children merely playing at war, and the sight of healthy women with bellies fat with child.
But the women and children were the ones hit the hardest by the strange new sickness; and that was a cruelty that cut especially deep.
Each of the women in our tribe was mated to a triad of Scorp-Blood warriors; and had been won through glorious battle to prove the triad’s worth to our God. In our culture, we earn our mates by defeating great creatures and dragging their heads back to our Orb-God, who grants us a portal to find our triad’s fated mate – but only if the Orb-God deigns our sacrifice worthy.
For that reason, the death of any one of our tribe’s women is a senseless tragedy; because of the sacrifices made to bring her here.
When our tribe loses a woman, we all mourn – and for the triad who lose her, the pain is especially raw. That’s why this sickness is especially cruel.
I remembered the sight of women, children, and once-proud warriors laying on the floors of our cave in agony. In our tribe’s weakened state, we needed to find a safe home before we could all risk travelling together as a group.
But finding a new home is not an easy task – for there are ravenous, massive beasts that roam every corner of this planet. That’s why they’d sent us to seek it – a strong, Scorp-blooded triad of warriors.
Darok swallows a huge chunk of meat, then spits it out with distaste. “We should be proving ourselves, not searching for a home,” he growls, his voice edged with frustration.
Darok’s always been a dour one. Being in unfamiliar territory is putting him on edge. Still, I wouldn’t change anything about him. His aura is strong in my mind, steadfast and realistic. Though he could never be mistaken for an optimist, he brings balance to our triad.
Hadone rips a huge chunk of meat with his teeth, chewing noisily in the night air. “First, we find a home for our tribe. Then, we prove ourselves worthy in a Scorp nest.” Hadone speaks of proving ourselves – of finding and slaying an offering worthy of our Orb-God – with an eagerness I don’t share.
His curly black hair gives him boyish good looks that have gotten him in trouble with some of the older Aurelians. There was recently a scandal with a triad of fish-eating Aurelians – those who prefer to fish by the rivers, instead of hunting game like the rest of us. We don’t talk about what happened, but it never leaves our shared mind. There’s been a darkness to Hadone ever since that… incident – and he’d chased battle and death far too eagerly ever since.
That… scandal prompted us to move away from our tribal home forty years ago, and it lead to the fish-eating Aurelians of our tribe being banished from the ancient home in disgrace.
Darok, Hadone and I were living far away when the horn called us back to our people, and discovered the tragedy of this strange sickness necessitated that we aid our tribe in seeking a new home.
My smile disappears.
Out in our own home – away from the cave of our tribe – we’d been training for forty years, honing our fighting ability – all in anticipation of proving ourselves to the Orb-God.
But even with all the preparation in the world, few Aurelian triads ever return from the darkness of the Scorp nests.
Many try. Many die. It’s the greatest honor
