Cheep!?
Chapter 76
To the north east of Greenleaf rose the Niffel mountain range, an expansive, several hundred kilometer long spine of granite that separated the Kingdom from the Republic to the east. Each of the Niffle mountain ranges' high peaks represented the home of a powerful beast or monster, each one the monarch of their domain. Four major strata dominated any such given territory, beginning first in the valleys and trails most wayfinders would traverse. Travelers were practically nonexistent in some of these areas, save for those looking for rare ores, plants, and in some cases essence enriched locations. Adventurers were apt to occasionally launch their own endeavors here in the hopes of finding something to give them an edge over the competition, or to overturn a mundane fate. For all others, though, the mountains were not a destination themselves, but an obstacle.
For most, the greatest dangers came from beneath, in the vast underground that spanned the Niffel mountain range. Violent and dangerous creatures made their homes in these places where the light didn’t touch, beaten back only by the holdouts of individuals and creatures with pacts and alliances in place from ages old. An unwary traveler in the waypaths and winding valleys could find themselves the prey of any of these creatures, or worse still, the organized and malcontent monster tribes that have plagued the lands for generations. For most, the valleys and the underground were the only two strata that ever mattered.
However, the massive steppes and towering peaks, also called ‘Crowns’ were where the real power of the ranges resided. No individual mountain retained a permanent name, often inheriting the name of its ruler, a beast of a high tier of power, who fought any who would lay claim to their domain. The Crowns were the richest in essence, and no monarch would suffer a competitor in their own hold. For the most part, skirmishes and battles between mountains was not uncommon, but a total war was an unheard of concept. Raiding, grudge-feuds, and more, but never a grueling battle that stretched on for decades and demanded the attention and action of their entire society.
It was something that those of the Riizen mountain were coming to learn through first hand experience.
Sasha carried herself with an apparent air of certainty and confidence that she didn’t feel within her body. Her cat's paws flowed smoothly over stone and ledges with an easy grace as she ascended the steppes, the fourth of five for the Riizen Mountain. Where the steppe prior was a warm, almost tropical environment, this one was a cold tundra filled with rough fir trees and beautiful arcing ice that formed complex pseudo structures. The Frost Ursun claimed primary dominion over this steppe, and had done so for tens of generations. As far as the clans of Riizen went, they were perhaps the oldest, and stayed out of the bulk of clan politics. They were builders, and were also one of the last lines of defense for the mountain proper. Only the fifth steppe, home to the innermost and most prominent of families remained after them, and while Sasha and her Blue-Claw Clan resided there, she regarded the vast majority of them with derision.
Here on the fourth, honor and combat readiness was still upheld and practiced in due diligence. Sasha found herself at home here more than she did on the steppe above. It certainly helped that her best friend lived here.
“Sasha,” a voice greeted her from somewhere that she couldn’t pin down at first, but she wasn’t alarmed.
She inclined her head fractionally, “Gorm, greetings. Have you seen Thokk around?”
A figure rose from the feather light snow a respectful distance in front and to the right of her. As though ice was given form and fur, looming three and a half meters tall at the shoulders while on all fours. He was a massive beast, but no more or less than most of his other Frost Ursun brethren. What made him truly impressive was the taste of the essence he freely allowed to drift around him, freezing the air with its touch and sending a gently drifting snow falling across the land. Flecks touched Sasha’s nose, but instead of cold, she felt a kind of calm serenity.
Being tier five, the beast was an equal–or greater, Sasha imagined–match to any of the Clan heads.
Gorm shook his head, the bear's shaggy, long white mane sending a glittering cascade of ice from his head as he did so, “I have not. The youngling has returned from the frontlines, hours ago, so he may be resting currently. Would you like me to find him?”
Briefly off put, Sasha took a moment to consider if she would. Ultimately, though, she knew that her desire for his company wasn’t as important as him getting some rest. Given that he was fighting the White Death, Sasha felt guilty that she wanted to take his time in the first place, but she sought advice on how to handle her brother. Her family was hardly an acceptable source of real help, after all.
Realizing she was going on a mental tangent, Sasha shook her head, “No, that is fine. I’ll find him after I return from the Council.”
“Ah, they are in session,” Gorm nodded understandingly, “Then, I’ll not hold you further. Do send my greetings along to the Alabaster Clanhead when you arrive, will you?”
Sasha smiled at him, the sabretooth’s countenance looking fierce at the display were it not for the emotion that reached her eyes, “Of course, Gorm. Good day.”
The bear sank back into the ice and snow before her eyes, leaving no trace that he’d ever been there in the first place. As Sasha continued on, she imagined what she herself would be capable of at tier five, if she ever reached it. Gorm was decades old already, and had fought against creatures that Sasha could scarcely even begin to imagine. She was near tier three in power herself, but was already fifteen years old. She, like many of her generation, had grown complacent in their supposed power.
But, as she’d realized, one's family being powerful did not mean you were powerful. That fact, and more, had been forcibly realized when she lost against mere humans and nearly lost her brother. Even beyond the taint on her honor, Sasha had never been so terrified in her life. Death was an eventuality, but nearly losing Tiku had opened her eyes to how very childish and lazily she had taken her advancement. Certainly, she was far from the worst… But, now she could see why her father had looked upon the Clan with such eyes. Like seeing raw ore that could be forged into mithril, and knowing that, due to their laziness, much of them would be no more useful than a doorstop, instead.
It shamed her to know that expression, as loving as he was of her, had also fallen upon her from time to time.
He was the undisputed monarch of the Riizen mountain, a tier six creature, a peak of power that few creatures in the known world could ever claim. As such was the case, of course, the Blue-Claw Clan was proud. Of course they were strong, of course they could afford to bask in their perceived accomplishments, and in general, on their steppes.
Sasha wondered if the rest of her family even considered the possibility that the monarch would not help them against the threat down the mountain. If he had to move to deal with this threat… then what good were the rest of the denizens of his domain? Sasha didn’t know what might happen, but she did know that if her father decided that his current clans were insufficient, they would be no more.
Putting those thoughts out of her mind, Sasha began to run through the snow lands. Icicles that glinted marvelously in the light refracted a hundred thousand times through the forest, casting it in a kaleidoscope of color. She still winced at the light, but after having traversed this path hundreds of times, she had grown much more accustomed to seeing through the glint than most. A whorl of essence surged over her eyes and after a moment, a thin, shaded barrier remained, allowing her easy sight in spite of the light. She didn’t intend on being here long enough to allow her eyes to acclimate fully, so the shade would do to ensure none were intending to ambush her.
While such attacks were officially forbidden during this time of turmoil, there were regrettably plenty of beasts that might ignore such commands and pursue their own petty vendettas. Perhaps moreso, with so much of their guardianship devoted to fighting off the insects that assaulted the mountain.
Still, she spared some time to relish in the cold that pervaded her lungs with every breath, and she appreciated the silent beauty that the forest cast across the land. In this perpetual land of frost, she didn’t have to worry about her clan’s antics, nor bother with any annoying suitors vying for her attention and affection, simply due to her lineage. Their society was far less rigid than a humans, but that didn’t mean that stratification of hierarchies didn’t happen. Certainly. If she approached a lesser clan and demanded something of them, they would be in no position to refuse.
Now, more than ever, she knew the follies of greed. The human poachers had demonstrated that aptly. If it hadn’t been for that aberrant Phorus, Tiku might never have returned home.
Briefly, she thought about that bird, how she’d had her hackles up at the sight of him, a mere tier one. A basic instinct had warned her that he was dangerous, but he’d proven not only to be perfectly reasonable, but adroitly capable of fulfilling his promises. If possible, she wanted to seek him as a retainer, perhaps as a companion to hunt and grow more powerful.
Regrettably, he seemed to have selected humanoids to travel with, though she couldn’t quite put a paw on what exactly they were to him at the time. She distrusted humanoids in the first place, and upon seeing him in that situation, she was vaguely worried that he might be naively taken advantage of.
‘It is not my place to bother,’ She reminded herself, ‘I refuse to put my snout in everyone else’s business.’ Nodding, she then paused and amended, ‘Except Tiku. He’s hopeless without some kind of oversight.’
At her speed, it still took her nearly an hour to traverse the snow covered forest. It would have taken her even longer if she hadn’t felt the Ursun helping her pass through the woodlands, hardening ordinarily soft snow for easier passage, as well as dissuading Frost Spirits from hindering her way. Ordinally she refused such aide, but times of war and need drove her refusal to stay on her tongue.
She climbed the steppeland barrier to the next area, this one resembling a geometric, scintillating configuration of deep blue ice. The path upwards itself was carved through granite by the might of glaciers. Only the greatest of the Frost Ursun could move such titanic constructions, but nature did much of the work on its own. They merely shaped the steps, making the passage upward much easier than the passages from the lowest steppes. Still, that was only true while they still willed it so, both entry into these steppes and ascendance to a higher one was heavily controlled by the Albedo Clan. If they were not the steadfast loyalists they were, Sasha would have been nervous that so much possible control lay in their paws.
The fifth and final steppe before the peak was a crystalline jungle, laden with structures of condensed essence that fed and fueled the ecosystem here. Sasha felt her body drink what little of the higher tier essence she could, but knew that it was much too potent for her to truly digest. It was only the fact that she was tier two that she could even roam about freely outside of the habitats the clans had created for their young. Even then, if she did not practice her own essence control, she would find herself soon sickened by the tier five essence that drifted in the air.
She noted the guardians in the area, but they did not approach, nor did she seek them out. They were a taciturn bunch by intent, and Sasha begrudged them not for their duties. Without delay, she made her way down the risen lip of the steppe, down a path that took her around a massive, crystal clear lake with a rise of minerals that cupped the edge and spiraled upwards in the middle, as large as a four story tall building. It wasn’t the only lake, either, and Sasha passed several silver barked trees with dense, purple and violet leaves that enveloped the canopy, while the roots knitted together like tangled lovers along the ground. Darkness overwhelmed the land under the canopy, and Sasha pushed her awareness to the extremes. Many beasts made their homes here, and in this steppe, she was a competitor, not a guest.
Still, she found herself unharried as she passed through blooming vegetation that gave off subtle light. Flowers of pale yellow, ranging from dull and demure, to brilliant and almost jovial spread through the woods. Sasha let the sights roll past her, ignoring other multicolor flowers, the occasional beast that made no attempt to conceal themself, and the many fruits and other edible vegetation like heavy, fleshy emerald green vines that hung plentifully from certain trees. She’d seen it all before, and while it was still beautiful in a way, she found that she appreciated it less and less the more she visited the snow lands.
Eventually she came across a titanic clearing in the tree trunks, an ascending series of elaborately carved immense stone platforms, upheld by vines, stretched out for hundreds of meters in all directions. The stone was dense with essence, lighter by far than it should have been, but no less durable. All around, strands of vines like a titan’s arteries tangled into the equally immense trees around. Through the middle of the main two platforms rose a tangle of a dozen ironwood trees that served as the central anchor to Riizen City, dominating the huge cityscape in profile. It reminded her vaguely of the human city, Greenleaf, only perhaps slightly smaller in the footprint of the city's size in width. With how the entire structure was many stories above the ground, though, Sasha knew that it was physically larger by far. She privately believed that it was wholly unnecessary to have so many floors, but her father was so proud of the tribelands that she couldn’t bring herself to ever mention it.
It had two main levels near the base, with dozens of city blocks and larger sized platforms strung off of and between the two levels. The bottom level housed the uninitiated and lesser clans, whereas the second floor proudly held the major clans. Sasha knew of at least fifteen clans for certain, there were so many related and newly risen clans that came and went that she couldn’t be bothered to track them all the time. She kept apprised when necessary, to be certain, but Sasha was never and would never be expected to take on the bulk of any mundane inter-clan relations.
As she ran to one of the vine-ways that were ringed with thick ropes and bone totems hung all along the length of the vine on the sides. The iconography of a blue claw was carved and painted into the totems and denoted the Clan that laid claim to this strand as their own, the Blue-Claw Clan a fairly easy to recognize symbol. As she rose, she paused at the sensation of the vegetation flexing around her.
From deep within a thicket of razor sharp brambles as hard and sharp as iron daggers, a starlit coat of obsidian fur and moss covered antlers stepped out. The Grove Deer inclined its head to her, and Sasha reverently returned the gesture.
“Young Master of the Blue-Claw Clan,” the honored custodian rose to its full height of two meters, and Sasha felt small indeed next to the creature. The knowledge that this creature was nearly immortal was well known in these lands, but it was their wisdom that they shared from the Great Mother that had truly earned them their status.
“Antlered One,” Sasha used a general term for them, but no less respectfully. They preferred to be addressed as such, and she didn’t miss the slight relaxation in the buck’s posture at the casual term. “Does the Great Mother have wisdom she wishes shared?”
It shook its head fractionally, though with its wide rack of horns, the motion was greatly exaggerated. “None for you, personally. However, the Council will hear of her wisdom this day.”
Sasha felt her heartbeat speed up at that, but she controlled her expression with as much dignity as she could muster, “That is news, certainly enough. If I may impose, why the delay?”
The buck smiled, its glowing, deep green eyes twinkling with the gesture, “The timing was incorrect. However, now that you’re here, we may go before the Council.”
Sasha failed utterly at containing her shock at that, “I–Excuse me,” she almost blurted out something decidedly less controlled, “I would not be presumptuous, but were you awaiting my arrival?”
Deep joviality radiated from the buck, along with what Sasha guessed was amusement. “Indeed.”
“And… may I ask why you were waiting for me?” Sasha felt her curiosity and anxiety rise paw in paw.
“Not at all.” The buck informed her before striding past her, towards the city and up the vine, “Shall we walk together, then?”
Sasha internally griped that he wasn’t really asking, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she took a few long loping steps to catch up and kept pace with the buck. Any hopes that she could simply attend the meeting and catch up with her friend might very well be dashed. But, with any luck, perhaps she could use this to convince her Clan mates that the danger they faced was very real and imminent, instead of being, once more, called a ‘sensational alarmist’ by her peers…
Cheep!?
Chapter 76
To the north east of Greenleaf rose the Niffel mountain range, an expansive, several hundred kilometer long spine of granite that separated the Kingdom from the Republic to the east. Each of the Niffle mountain ranges' high peaks represented the home of a powerful beast or monster, each one the monarch of their domain. Four major strata dominated any such given territory, beginning first in the valleys and trails most wayfinders would traverse. Travelers were practically nonexistent in some of these areas, save for those looking for rare ores, plants, and in some cases essence enriched locations. Adventurers were apt to occasionally launch their own endeavors here in the hopes of finding something to give them an edge over the competition, or to overturn a mundane fate. For all others, though, the mountains were not a destination themselves, but an obstacle.
For most, the greatest dangers came from beneath, in the vast underground that spanned the Niffel mountain range. Violent and dangerous creatures made their homes in these places where the light didn’t touch, beaten back only by the holdouts of individuals and creatures with pacts and alliances in place from ages old. An unwary traveler in the waypaths and winding valleys could find themselves the prey of any of these creatures, or worse still, the organized and malcontent monster tribes that have plagued the lands for generations. For most, the valleys and the underground were the only two strata that ever mattered.
However, the massive steppes and towering peaks, also called ‘Crowns’ were where the real power of the ranges resided. No individual mountain retained a permanent name, often inheriting the name of its ruler, a beast of a high tier of power, who fought any who would lay claim to their domain. The Crowns were the richest in essence, and no monarch would suffer a competitor in their own hold. For the most part, skirmishes and battles between mountains was not uncommon, but a total war was an unheard of concept. Raiding, grudge-feuds, and more, but never a grueling battle that stretched on for decades and demanded the attention and action of their entire society.
It was something that those of the Riizen mountain were coming to learn through first hand experience.
Sasha carried herself with an apparent air of certainty and confidence that she didn’t feel within her body. Her cat's paws flowed smoothly over stone and ledges with an easy grace as she ascended the steppes, the fourth of five for the Riizen Mountain. Where the steppe prior was a warm, almost tropical environment, this one was a cold tundra filled with rough fir trees and beautiful arcing ice that formed complex pseudo structures. The Frost Ursun claimed primary dominion over this steppe, and had done so for tens of generations. As far as the clans of Riizen went, they were perhaps the oldest, and stayed out of the bulk of clan politics. They were builders, and were also one of the last lines of defense for the mountain proper. Only the fifth steppe, home to the innermost and most prominent of families remained after them, and while Sasha and her Blue-Claw Clan resided there, she regarded the vast majority of them with derision.
Here on the fourth, honor and combat readiness was still upheld and practiced in due diligence. Sasha found herself at home here more than she did on the steppe above. It certainly helped that her best friend lived here.
“Sasha,” a voice greeted her from somewhere that she couldn’t pin down at first, but she wasn’t alarmed.
She inclined her head fractionally, “Gorm, greetings. Have you seen Thokk around?”
A figure rose from the feather light snow a respectful distance in front and to the right of her. As though ice was given form and fur, looming three and a half meters tall at the shoulders while on all fours. He was a massive beast, but no more or less than most of his other Frost Ursun brethren. What made him truly impressive was the taste of the essence he freely allowed to drift around him, freezing the air with its touch and sending a gently drifting snow falling across the land. Flecks touched Sasha’s nose, but instead of cold, she felt a kind of calm serenity.
Being tier five, the beast was an equal–or greater, Sasha imagined–match to any of the Clan heads.
Gorm shook his head, the bear's shaggy, long white mane sending a glittering cascade of ice from his head as he did so, “I have not. The youngling has returned from the frontlines, hours ago, so he may be resting currently. Would you like me to find him?”
Briefly off put, Sasha took a moment to consider if she would. Ultimately, though, she knew that her desire for his company wasn’t as important as him getting some rest. Given that he was fighting the White Death, Sasha felt guilty that she wanted to take his time in the first place, but she sought advice on how to handle her brother. Her family was hardly an acceptable source of real help, after all.
Realizing she was going on a mental tangent, Sasha shook her head, “No, that is fine. I’ll find him after I return from the Council.”
“Ah, they are in session,” Gorm nodded understandingly, “Then, I’ll not hold you further. Do send my greetings along to the Alabaster Clanhead when you arrive, will you?”
Sasha smiled at him, the sabretooth’s countenance looking fierce at the display were it not for the emotion that reached her eyes, “Of course, Gorm. Good day.”
The bear sank back into the ice and snow before her eyes, leaving no trace that he’d ever been there in the first place. As Sasha continued on, she imagined what she herself would be capable of at tier five, if she ever reached it. Gorm was decades old already, and had fought against creatures that Sasha could scarcely even begin to imagine. She was near tier three in power herself, but was already fifteen years old. She, like many of her generation, had grown complacent in their supposed power.
But, as she’d realized, one's family being powerful did not mean you were powerful. That fact, and more, had been forcibly realized when she lost against mere humans and nearly lost her brother. Even beyond the taint on her honor, Sasha had never been so terrified in her life. Death was an eventuality, but nearly losing Tiku had opened her eyes to how very childish and lazily she had taken her advancement. Certainly, she was far from the worst… But, now she could see why her father had looked upon the Clan with such eyes. Like seeing raw ore that could be forged into mithril, and knowing that, due to their laziness, much of them would be no more useful than a doorstop, instead.
It shamed her to know that expression, as loving as he was of her, had also fallen upon her from time to time.
He was the undisputed monarch of the Riizen mountain, a tier six creature, a peak of power that few creatures in the known world could ever claim. As such was the case, of course, the Blue-Claw Clan was proud. Of course they were strong, of course they could afford to bask in their perceived accomplishments, and in general, on their steppes.
Sasha wondered if the rest of her family even considered the possibility that the monarch would not help them against the threat down the mountain. If he had to move to deal with this threat… then what good were the rest of the denizens of his domain? Sasha didn’t know what might happen, but she did know that if her father decided that his current clans were insufficient, they would be no more.
Putting those thoughts out of her mind, Sasha began to run through the snow lands. Icicles that glinted marvelously in the light refracted a hundred thousand times through the forest, casting it in a kaleidoscope of color. She still winced at the light, but after having traversed this path hundreds of times, she had grown much more accustomed to seeing through the glint than most. A whorl of essence surged over her eyes and after a moment, a thin, shaded barrier remained, allowing her easy sight in spite of the light. She didn’t intend on being here long enough to allow her eyes to acclimate fully, so the shade would do to ensure none were intending to ambush her.
While such attacks were officially forbidden during this time of turmoil, there were regrettably plenty of beasts that might ignore such commands and pursue their own petty vendettas. Perhaps moreso, with so much of their guardianship devoted to fighting off the insects that assaulted the mountain.
Still, she spared some time to relish in the cold that pervaded her lungs with every breath, and she appreciated the silent beauty that the forest cast across the land. In this perpetual land of frost, she didn’t have to worry about her clan’s antics, nor bother with any annoying suitors vying for her attention and affection, simply due to her lineage. Their society was far less rigid than a humans, but that didn’t mean that stratification of hierarchies didn’t happen. Certainly. If she approached a lesser clan and demanded something of them, they would be in no position to refuse.
Now, more than ever, she knew the follies of greed. The human poachers had demonstrated that aptly. If it hadn’t been for that aberrant Phorus, Tiku might never have returned home.
Briefly, she thought about that bird, how she’d had her hackles up at the sight of him, a mere tier one. A basic instinct had warned her that he was dangerous, but he’d proven not only to be perfectly reasonable, but adroitly capable of fulfilling his promises. If possible, she wanted to seek him as a retainer, perhaps as a companion to hunt and grow more powerful.
Regrettably, he seemed to have selected humanoids to travel with, though she couldn’t quite put a paw on what exactly they were to him at the time. She distrusted humanoids in the first place, and upon seeing him in that situation, she was vaguely worried that he might be naively taken advantage of.
‘It is not my place to bother,’ She reminded herself, ‘I refuse to put my snout in everyone else’s business.’ Nodding, she then paused and amended, ‘Except Tiku. He’s hopeless without some kind of oversight.’
At her speed, it still took her nearly an hour to traverse the snow covered forest. It would have taken her even longer if she hadn’t felt the Ursun helping her pass through the woodlands, hardening ordinarily soft snow for easier passage, as well as dissuading Frost Spirits from hindering her way. Ordinally she refused such aide, but times of war and need drove her refusal to stay on her tongue.
She climbed the steppeland barrier to the next area, this one resembling a geometric, scintillating configuration of deep blue ice. The path upwards itself was carved through granite by the might of glaciers. Only the greatest of the Frost Ursun could move such titanic constructions, but nature did much of the work on its own. They merely shaped the steps, making the passage upward much easier than the passages from the lowest steppes. Still, that was only true while they still willed it so, both entry into these steppes and ascendance to a higher one was heavily controlled by the Albedo Clan. If they were not the steadfast loyalists they were, Sasha would have been nervous that so much possible control lay in their paws.
The fifth and final steppe before the peak was a crystalline jungle, laden with structures of condensed essence that fed and fueled the ecosystem here. Sasha felt her body drink what little of the higher tier essence she could, but knew that it was much too potent for her to truly digest. It was only the fact that she was tier two that she could even roam about freely outside of the habitats the clans had created for their young. Even then, if she did not practice her own essence control, she would find herself soon sickened by the tier five essence that drifted in the air.
She noted the guardians in the area, but they did not approach, nor did she seek them out. They were a taciturn bunch by intent, and Sasha begrudged them not for their duties. Without delay, she made her way down the risen lip of the steppe, down a path that took her around a massive, crystal clear lake with a rise of minerals that cupped the edge and spiraled upwards in the middle, as large as a four story tall building. It wasn’t the only lake, either, and Sasha passed several silver barked trees with dense, purple and violet leaves that enveloped the canopy, while the roots knitted together like tangled lovers along the ground. Darkness overwhelmed the land under the canopy, and Sasha pushed her awareness to the extremes. Many beasts made their homes here, and in this steppe, she was a competitor, not a guest.
Still, she found herself unharried as she passed through blooming vegetation that gave off subtle light. Flowers of pale yellow, ranging from dull and demure, to brilliant and almost jovial spread through the woods. Sasha let the sights roll past her, ignoring other multicolor flowers, the occasional beast that made no attempt to conceal themself, and the many fruits and other edible vegetation like heavy, fleshy emerald green vines that hung plentifully from certain trees. She’d seen it all before, and while it was still beautiful in a way, she found that she appreciated it less and less the more she visited the snow lands.
Eventually she came across a titanic clearing in the tree trunks, an ascending series of elaborately carved immense stone platforms, upheld by vines, stretched out for hundreds of meters in all directions. The stone was dense with essence, lighter by far than it should have been, but no less durable. All around, strands of vines like a titan’s arteries tangled into the equally immense trees around. Through the middle of the main two platforms rose a tangle of a dozen ironwood trees that served as the central anchor to Riizen City, dominating the huge cityscape in profile. It reminded her vaguely of the human city, Greenleaf, only perhaps slightly smaller in the footprint of the city's size in width. With how the entire structure was many stories above the ground, though, Sasha knew that it was physically larger by far. She privately believed that it was wholly unnecessary to have so many floors, but her father was so proud of the tribelands that she couldn’t bring herself to ever mention it.
It had two main levels near the base, with dozens of city blocks and larger sized platforms strung off of and between the two levels. The bottom level housed the uninitiated and lesser clans, whereas the second floor proudly held the major clans. Sasha knew of at least fifteen clans for certain, there were so many related and newly risen clans that came and went that she couldn’t be bothered to track them all the time. She kept apprised when necessary, to be certain, but Sasha was never and would never be expected to take on the bulk of any mundane inter-clan relations.
As she ran to one of the vine-ways that were ringed with thick ropes and bone totems hung all along the length of the vine on the sides. The iconography of a blue claw was carved and painted into the totems and denoted the Clan that laid claim to this strand as their own, the Blue-Claw Clan a fairly easy to recognize symbol. As she rose, she paused at the sensation of the vegetation flexing around her.
From deep within a thicket of razor sharp brambles as hard and sharp as iron daggers, a starlit coat of obsidian fur and moss covered antlers stepped out. The Grove Deer inclined its head to her, and Sasha reverently returned the gesture.
“Young Master of the Blue-Claw Clan,” the honored custodian rose to its full height of two meters, and Sasha felt small indeed next to the creature. The knowledge that this creature was nearly immortal was well known in these lands, but it was their wisdom that they shared from the Great Mother that had truly earned them their status.
“Antlered One,” Sasha used a general term for them, but no less respectfully. They preferred to be addressed as such, and she didn’t miss the slight relaxation in the buck’s posture at the casual term. “Does the Great Mother have wisdom she wishes shared?”
It shook its head fractionally, though with its wide rack of horns, the motion was greatly exaggerated. “None for you, personally. However, the Council will hear of her wisdom this day.”
Sasha felt her heartbeat speed up at that, but she controlled her expression with as much dignity as she could muster, “That is news, certainly enough. If I may impose, why the delay?”
The buck smiled, its glowing, deep green eyes twinkling with the gesture, “The timing was incorrect. However, now that you’re here, we may go before the Council.”
Sasha failed utterly at containing her shock at that, “I–Excuse me,” she almost blurted out something decidedly less controlled, “I would not be presumptuous, but were you awaiting my arrival?”
Deep joviality radiated from the buck, along with what Sasha guessed was amusement. “Indeed.”
“And… may I ask why you were waiting for me?” Sasha felt her curiosity and anxiety rise paw in paw.
“Not at all.” The buck informed her before striding past her, towards the city and up the vine, “Shall we walk together, then?”
Sasha internally griped that he wasn’t really asking, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she took a few long loping steps to catch up and kept pace with the buck. Any hopes that she could simply attend the meeting and catch up with her friend might very well be dashed. But, with any luck, perhaps she could use this to convince her Clan mates that the danger they faced was very real and imminent, instead of being, once more, called a ‘sensational alarmist’ by her peers…
