His pedipalps and chelicerae spread wide like the tentacles of an anemone, and Binky convulsed, expelling a wad of sticky fluid at the winged kidnapper.
The projectile was a milky blur as it sped through the air. An instant before it hit, the owl screeched and adjusted direction. It wasn't enough to take it out of the missile’s trajectory—but that hadn't been the owl’s goal. Instead, as it twisted in the air, it opened its claws and flung the gnome child toward the second owl.
Binky’s web-bullet impacted the first attacker with a wet smack, and silk tendrils erupted, spreading to engulf the owl’s left wing. The massive feathered monster let out an outraged screech, making all the gnomes in the area flinch and cover their ears, then it flapped awkwardly away into the trees.
Meanwhile, the second owl had caught the girl’s limp form easily. Prize in talon, it spread its wings wider and lifted itself higher, clearly preparing to make its own escape.
Hoppit's bullet caught the owl right between its eyes. The huge bird fell from the sky like a stone—and so did the little girl. Ris'kin was already moving into place to catch her, followed by two frantic-looking gnomes carrying a blanket stretched out between them.
But the first owl was back, one wing half-tangled in spider-spit. Talons extended, it snatched the unconscious child from the air, dipping a little beneath the sudden weight.
Ris’kin sprinted beneath it. At my command, when she reached him, Binky allowed her to leap on his back, then raised himself on his rear legs again, boosting her momentum. She sailed upward. Her black-furred fingertips brushed the child’s foot.
It wasn’t enough. The owl, beating its wings frantically, was rising once more. It flapped unsteadily; one wing was still encumbered with venomous fluid, but the feathers’ thickness must have protected it from the worst of Binky’s paralyzing goop, and with one final triumphant screech it was gone.
Badgers growled. Warriors yelled. Children wailed.
Incredibly, the humans were still asleep, apparently exhausted enough to somehow not register the chaos currently in progress outside.
"We have to save her!" Ket was flitting back and forth. Sparks trailed from her as she wrung her hands anxiously.
Amidst the chaos, Swift and Cheer appeared from wherever they'd been skulking and immediately started dragging the owl carcass over to the humans' tent. I don’t envy Coll and Benin when they wake up, I thought, remembering the days of the scavengers bringing me dead mice and rotting possums like a pair of misguided cats.
"Shanky and the scouts are the only ones you can send after her right now. But they're all out hunting!"
My sprite was more distressed than I’d ever seen her. I understood her concern, but attempted to think practically rather than emotionally.
Should we really risk more lives for just this one? She could already be dead. It's sad, but we have to be realistic about these things. She’s just one gnome...
"Regrettable,” said Bekkit heavily, “but we must focus on the greater good of the tribe. Consider her a tragedy of the exodus, learn from her demise, and move on.”
"Are you suggesting we leave her to get eaten?" Ket said. "What kind of monster even thinks about leaving a child?"
"Yeah, Bekkit, what kind of monster even thinks about leaving a child?" I turned on him quickly.
“We should wake Benin and Coll,” said Ket decisively.
“No,” I said. “Neither of them has the skills to be of use in this sort of situation. We need someone stealthy. Someone with experience in tracking.”
“But Shanky isn’t here—”
“I’m not talking about Longshank.”
Ris’kin’s tufted ears twitched. She was still staring in the direction the owl had disappeared, just waiting for my word.
“Give us an hour,” I said to Ket. To Ris’kin, I said, “Let’s go.”
Thirty-Two
Kind of Monster
Corey
My avatar’s muscles bunched and stretched as we flew over the forest floor. I reveled in the sensation of freedom.
Though we were out here on grim purpose, it felt good to forget that for a moment—to forget everything, exodus included—and for once be able to focus solely on the physical. Damp leaves crinkling beneath the pads of my feet, the scent of rain-soaked earth, the breeze in my whiskers.
Every now and again my avatar would halt to scent her surroundings. She was always on the alert; her enhanced senses were like a living system of tripwires.
The ears, for instance. It was as though they had a will of their own, like a pair of guardian watchers devoted to identifying the slightest potential threat. Their size and shape were ideal for triangulating the source of even the smallest vibration with a single twitch.
If the ears detected a possible threat, the nose then assessed it further, sorting the familiar scents from the strange within the blink of an eye. The eyes themselves—keen as Ris’kin’s were, especially with their darksight—came in last, but even they were far superior to most, seeing the world’s shapes and colors with startling clarity.
The air beneath the trees was mostly still, heavy with the threat of further rain, but occasional currents brought tidings of the local environs that Ris’kin’s refined palate could easily translate.
Half a mile to the east, a wild dog barked. From the west came the violent clack and crack of antlered beasts clashing in combat.
In the tree to our left, an owl hooted. I tensed, but Ris’kin already knew it wasn’t the one we were hunting. I caught sight of it after a moment: a pair of huge eyes peering down curiously at us. It hooted again, and a rodent scurried for cover somewhere in the undergrowth nearby.
Elsewhere, the scream of an unfortunate animal—rabbit, my avatar’s senses suggested—split the air as the night’s predators got to work.
Ris’kin discounted them one at a time, then turned to filtering smells and tastes. Fungi. Canine spoor. Deer musk. Rotting wood.
There—the salty tang of blood. It was coming from several sources.
A hundred
