It is incredibly hard not to turn and look for our tail. Even harder to not let the silence get to me. Now and then, I notice the flicking of Grímr’s ear. I’ve come to realise it’s an unconscious reaction he makes whenever he hears something from whatever is following us.
I strain my hearing, but I can’t pick out anything from the constant groaning and cracking of the ice underfoot. As far as I can tell, the entire glacier is empty. There are no creatures in any direction. I don’t know if that’s normal or not here, but it is definitely different from the high number we’ve come to expect in the Stepps.
Is the thing following us some beast stalking its prey, or is it something intelligent? Could it be someone from the races I’ve already met following us? If so, what reason could they have for it?
My wild guesses are baseless, but with no information other than Grímr hearing sounds behind us, all I’m able to do is speculate as my team and I walk in silence.
How good must Grímr’s hearing be if he can not only make out a sound from over a hundred metres away, but can distinguish it from the background noise and determine that it’s caused by something following us?
We travel for hours with barely any change until Grímr finally informs of our pursuer’s actions.
“It’s closing the distance now. It’ll be maybe ten minutes until contact.”
“Alright, in a minute, I’ll send Jav out. We’ll continue on as we have, but the moment it breaches to the surface, Jav will call the attack.”
When Remus flings the small volan through the air, I notice he doesn’t go directly up as usual. Jav flies far ahead of us before curving around behind us. He stays within a hundred metres of the ice, taking long sweeping circles in the air to retain his speed.
I wonder why he doesn’t rise any higher.
“Fuck.” Grímr’s sudden curse pulls our attention. Under our curious gazes, he is forced to explain. “I heard it. It’s a mountain panther,” he says with hesitance.
“Oh.” I catch Remus’ eyes flicker to me, before laughing. “Well, I guess you’ll be talking earlier than you expected.”
Grímr grumbles in response. Is this about that secret of his race? It’s definitely that. What does it have to do with the creature following us?
“It’s only fair. She was willing to share her fears; about time you reciprocate,” Bunny says with hardly a glance our way.
“Oh? And you’ll offer your own fears?” Grímr snaps.
“I fear nothing.” She flicks her head around to glare and he returns in kind.
I don’t have time to ponder what the secret might be. A whistle cuts through the air behind us and we all turn at once.
A large panther — identical to Grímr — is crouched not twenty metres from us. A Portian? Why was one of Grímr’s race creeping up on us?
Jav drops from above, cutting a deep gash in the side of its neck. He curves in the air, ready to strike at the other side. The panther is quick to react now that it’s aware of the volan, moving its head out of the way and swinging a clawed paw at him. It strikes nothing but air.
The three with me are quick to dash toward the Portian, ready to engage it while it’s distracted.
Remus arrives first and whips a gauntlet-wielding tentacles forward. The panther notices the new threats just in time, leaping away as the metal encased limb tears through the air hardly a whisker away.
It’s a thinking person. Why are we attacking without even trying to talk first?
The panther backs up, eyeing each of my team as they surround it. It scrunches up its muzzle as if it smells something horrible and snaps its head to Grímr. The portian growls, losing sight of anything around it beside Grímr. Its eyes hold a murderous tinge.
Not caring for the other threats, the panther dashes forward before crashing into Grímr. I’m sent flying off his back, but my suit is enough to keep the thin layer of snow from touching me as my back slams into the ground.
Both panthers tumble down the slope of ice, rolling over each other as they try to bite and claw at each other. Tetsu and Remus follow close behind the interlocked pair, striking whenever they find an opportunity.
Grímr lets out a guttural roar as the long sabre-teeth of the panther dig deep into his neck. The other portian doesn’t get away with any less damage; Grímr’s claws tear through much of its chest while gauntlets and sword damage its flanks.
They roll to a stop with Grímr pinned underneath. The panther continues to receive more damage from the two attacking its sides but ignores them. Its entire attention is on tearing Grímr apart.
I don’t get it. Why does it have such a one-minded aggressiveness to one of its own kind?
With a jerk of its head, the panther tears a chunk of flesh out of Grímr’s neck. He hisses in pain as Remus’ tentacle slams into the being’s face, sending it flying down the glacier slope.
Grímr rolls back to his feet and coughs up blood. More gushes out the huge gash in the side of his neck. A choking sound of gurgling escapes his throat as he tries to breathe through the blood. He doesn’t look alright at all, but he turns to the panther rising to its feet again ten metres away.
One of its hind-legs is limp, bent the wrong way, while deep wounds cut up much of the other flank. Despite the damage taken, it still pays no attention to the two at the sides of Grímr.
Another deep growl rumbles from its chest as it begins its desperate offence. With one leg completely useless, it struggles, but still dashes toward us with speed far greater than it should be capable of.
Jav drops in from behind it and cuts through the tendon in the back of the panther’s leg just as it tries to push off, sending it back to the ground.
It howls with its murderous gaze continuing to burn into Grímr. Despite the loss of the use of both rear legs, it continues to crawl forward.
Bunny’s sword swings down and cuts halfway through its neck. The panther stops for a moment, but even as the focus in its eyes fades, it resumes its desperate crawl.
The sword is jerked out only to come down once more, decapitating the beast.
There was no intelligence in that creature. Nothing but a murderous desperation I hadn’t seen since the chthonic. What exactly caused the portian to act as it had?
Maybe that’s the wrong question. My team had been unhesitating as they engaged the creature. So what is it that makes Grímr different?
I turn back to the portian, but my thoughts are put on hold as I’m reminded of his injury. Grímr’s laying down and pressing his paws into the wound as a river of blood continues to gush from the wound where a chunk of his neck is missing.
I hurry to his side. “Should I cauterise?” I ask, as I avoid the blood pooling on the ice.
He chokes out a gurgle, but upon hearing himself, settles to nod.
I push my flames into his wound, quickly burning closed the tubes of blood. After that, I take more care to only lightly burn the areas that feel like blood is gushing from.
With how open his wound is, it’s far easier to stop the bleeding than it had been for Ash’s leg, despite the far greater area of damage.
“Doing alright over there, Grímr?” Remus asks jovially.
I turn to see him calmly walking past the headless corpse. Isn’t he being far too casual when his friend has such a grievous wound?
Grímr nods to Remus, equally carefree. As if he isn’t missing a third of his neck. He’s acting like it doesn’t even hurt.
“What?” I blink at my teammates.
For now, I’m going to ignore the wound that Grímr seems to have almost forgotten about, if the way he stares at me is any sign. He seems far more interested in watching me with concern than his own mortal wound. Or at least what would normally be.
If he doesn’t care about it, then why should I? I try to tell myself, but really I just need a distraction from the deadly looking wound.
“Why did a portian attack so mindlessly?” I ask, but everyone looks toward Grímr.
I turn on the injured panther. “What is it that everyone knows about you that I don’t?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but coughs and blood trickles down the side of his maw. My anger subsides slightly at the sight, but he hardly reacts to what must be incredibly painful.
After coughing and spitting out a globule of congealing blood, he finally clears his throat enough to speak.
“Um… Would you believe if I said that was my ex?” he says with a nervous grin.
He gets a round of snorts from the others, but I just glare at him.
“Okay, sorry.” He points to the dead portian. “That is a mountain panther, not a portian. In some very specific and difficult to achieve circumstances, us portian can, uh, repurpose the bodies of beasts.”
He ducks his head as if expecting me to lash out.
Repurpose bodies? Doesn’t everyone do that? He specified the panther wasn’t a portian, so does that mean he, what… took their bodies?
Bunny sighs. “He’s skirting the topic. Portians are parasites that live by taking the bodies of other creatures.”
Grímr jerks at her sudden revelation. “But we never take sapients.” He turns to me. “And I’m sure áed are immune, anyway; I know áinfean are.”
That’s it? That’s the big secret? I don’t see why he would care about hiding it. It doesn’t seem much different from how I would burn a corpse or we enact the ritual or even simply using a corpse for parts. What was he so worried about?
There are a thousand things in the world more terrifying than someone that can wear another being like armour. Although, it is a bit gross.
“That’s it?” I can’t help but say.
Grímr stares at me uncomprehendingly.
“What did I tell you? Nothing to worry about with the áed.” Remus claps two of his tentacles together before rubbing them. “Now that all the drama is over with, we have a panther to sacrifice. Solvei, start up the ritual. Do you want the head, or a leg?”
I follow Remus and proceed with the ritual as I burn through the head for myself.
I wonder how Grímr takes over a creature? Is there a limit? Could he take over a Titan? I doubt it, but how big of a creature can he control? Do they have to be alive? Or dead?
So many thoughts run through my head about the possibilities. As they do, I realise why he’d been so concerned about my reaction. If he could take over a beast, then what might stop him from taking over the body of a sapient? I’m sure the very thought causes a lot of tension between the portian and the other races.
Strangely, I find myself not even worried about the possibility of it happening to me. I don’t even know how the portian might control the bodies, but I somehow, almost instinctively, know that the control of my own flames can never be taken from me.
After I’ve finished running the ritual for the team, I turn to Grímr, only to see that the entire gash in his neck has recovered. Replaced with a furless patch of unblemished hide.
I’d seen it after the first centipede fight, but at the time I’d just thought the wounds weren’t as deep as they looked. Grímr regenerates incredibly fast. No wonder he didn’t consider it an issue to take the damage he had.
As I inspect his newly grown neck, I catch him glance my way before turning his head and pretended we hadn’t locked eyes.
I guess he’s still worried about what I think. As much as I wish they hadn’t left me in the dark, I can’t say this new information has changed my opinion on him. The fact that he likes to bury people is still far more shocking.
I jump on his back, ready to continue moving, but Grímr jerks under my touch.
I raise an eyebrow as I look down at him. “You’re fine if I keep borrowing your back, yeah?”
“Of course.” He hesitates. “You’re not afraid?”
I laugh. It’s such a strange sight; a massive predator of a beast being so concerned over how he is seen by others.
“No,” I say. “Should I be?”
He shakes his head as he trots along the ice. I swear I heard him purr for an instant. If he did, he clamped down on it immediately.
Well, at least he’s happy.
It is incredibly hard not to turn and look for our tail. Even harder to not let the silence get to me. Now and then, I notice the flicking of Grímr’s ear. I’ve come to realise it’s an unconscious reaction he makes whenever he hears something from whatever is following us.
I strain my hearing, but I can’t pick out anything from the constant groaning and cracking of the ice underfoot. As far as I can tell, the entire glacier is empty. There are no creatures in any direction. I don’t know if that’s normal or not here, but it is definitely different from the high number we’ve come to expect in the Stepps.
Is the thing following us some beast stalking its prey, or is it something intelligent? Could it be someone from the races I’ve already met following us? If so, what reason could they have for it?
My wild guesses are baseless, but with no information other than Grímr hearing sounds behind us, all I’m able to do is speculate as my team and I walk in silence.
How good must Grímr’s hearing be if he can not only make out a sound from over a hundred metres away, but can distinguish it from the background noise and determine that it’s caused by something following us?
We travel for hours with barely any change until Grímr finally informs of our pursuer’s actions.
“It’s closing the distance now. It’ll be maybe ten minutes until contact.”
“Alright, in a minute, I’ll send Jav out. We’ll continue on as we have, but the moment it breaches to the surface, Jav will call the attack.”
When Remus flings the small volan through the air, I notice he doesn’t go directly up as usual. Jav flies far ahead of us before curving around behind us. He stays within a hundred metres of the ice, taking long sweeping circles in the air to retain his speed.
I wonder why he doesn’t rise any higher.
“Fuck.” Grímr’s sudden curse pulls our attention. Under our curious gazes, he is forced to explain. “I heard it. It’s a mountain panther,” he says with hesitance.
“Oh.” I catch Remus’ eyes flicker to me, before laughing. “Well, I guess you’ll be talking earlier than you expected.”
Grímr grumbles in response. Is this about that secret of his race? It’s definitely that. What does it have to do with the creature following us?
“It’s only fair. She was willing to share her fears; about time you reciprocate,” Bunny says with hardly a glance our way.
“Oh? And you’ll offer your own fears?” Grímr snaps.
“I fear nothing.” She flicks her head around to glare and he returns in kind.
I don’t have time to ponder what the secret might be. A whistle cuts through the air behind us and we all turn at once.
A large panther — identical to Grímr — is crouched not twenty metres from us. A Portian? Why was one of Grímr’s race creeping up on us?
Jav drops from above, cutting a deep gash in the side of its neck. He curves in the air, ready to strike at the other side. The panther is quick to react now that it’s aware of the volan, moving its head out of the way and swinging a clawed paw at him. It strikes nothing but air.
The three with me are quick to dash toward the Portian, ready to engage it while it’s distracted.
Remus arrives first and whips a gauntlet-wielding tentacles forward. The panther notices the new threats just in time, leaping away as the metal encased limb tears through the air hardly a whisker away.
It’s a thinking person. Why are we attacking without even trying to talk first?
The panther backs up, eyeing each of my team as they surround it. It scrunches up its muzzle as if it smells something horrible and snaps its head to Grímr. The portian growls, losing sight of anything around it beside Grímr. Its eyes hold a murderous tinge.
Not caring for the other threats, the panther dashes forward before crashing into Grímr. I’m sent flying off his back, but my suit is enough to keep the thin layer of snow from touching me as my back slams into the ground.
Both panthers tumble down the slope of ice, rolling over each other as they try to bite and claw at each other. Tetsu and Remus follow close behind the interlocked pair, striking whenever they find an opportunity.
Grímr lets out a guttural roar as the long sabre-teeth of the panther dig deep into his neck. The other portian doesn’t get away with any less damage; Grímr’s claws tear through much of its chest while gauntlets and sword damage its flanks.
They roll to a stop with Grímr pinned underneath. The panther continues to receive more damage from the two attacking its sides but ignores them. Its entire attention is on tearing Grímr apart.
I don’t get it. Why does it have such a one-minded aggressiveness to one of its own kind?
With a jerk of its head, the panther tears a chunk of flesh out of Grímr’s neck. He hisses in pain as Remus’ tentacle slams into the being’s face, sending it flying down the glacier slope.
Grímr rolls back to his feet and coughs up blood. More gushes out the huge gash in the side of his neck. A choking sound of gurgling escapes his throat as he tries to breathe through the blood. He doesn’t look alright at all, but he turns to the panther rising to its feet again ten metres away.
One of its hind-legs is limp, bent the wrong way, while deep wounds cut up much of the other flank. Despite the damage taken, it still pays no attention to the two at the sides of Grímr.
Another deep growl rumbles from its chest as it begins its desperate offence. With one leg completely useless, it struggles, but still dashes toward us with speed far greater than it should be capable of.
Jav drops in from behind it and cuts through the tendon in the back of the panther’s leg just as it tries to push off, sending it back to the ground.
It howls with its murderous gaze continuing to burn into Grímr. Despite the loss of the use of both rear legs, it continues to crawl forward.
Bunny’s sword swings down and cuts halfway through its neck. The panther stops for a moment, but even as the focus in its eyes fades, it resumes its desperate crawl.
The sword is jerked out only to come down once more, decapitating the beast.
There was no intelligence in that creature. Nothing but a murderous desperation I hadn’t seen since the chthonic. What exactly caused the portian to act as it had?
Maybe that’s the wrong question. My team had been unhesitating as they engaged the creature. So what is it that makes Grímr different?
I turn back to the portian, but my thoughts are put on hold as I’m reminded of his injury. Grímr’s laying down and pressing his paws into the wound as a river of blood continues to gush from the wound where a chunk of his neck is missing.
I hurry to his side. “Should I cauterise?” I ask, as I avoid the blood pooling on the ice.
He chokes out a gurgle, but upon hearing himself, settles to nod.
I push my flames into his wound, quickly burning closed the tubes of blood. After that, I take more care to only lightly burn the areas that feel like blood is gushing from.
With how open his wound is, it’s far easier to stop the bleeding than it had been for Ash’s leg, despite the far greater area of damage.
“Doing alright over there, Grímr?” Remus asks jovially.
I turn to see him calmly walking past the headless corpse. Isn’t he being far too casual when his friend has such a grievous wound?
Grímr nods to Remus, equally carefree. As if he isn’t missing a third of his neck. He’s acting like it doesn’t even hurt.
“What?” I blink at my teammates.
For now, I’m going to ignore the wound that Grímr seems to have almost forgotten about, if the way he stares at me is any sign. He seems far more interested in watching me with concern than his own mortal wound. Or at least what would normally be.
If he doesn’t care about it, then why should I? I try to tell myself, but really I just need a distraction from the deadly looking wound.
“Why did a portian attack so mindlessly?” I ask, but everyone looks toward Grímr.
I turn on the injured panther. “What is it that everyone knows about you that I don’t?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but coughs and blood trickles down the side of his maw. My anger subsides slightly at the sight, but he hardly reacts to what must be incredibly painful.
After coughing and spitting out a globule of congealing blood, he finally clears his throat enough to speak.
“Um… Would you believe if I said that was my ex?” he says with a nervous grin.
He gets a round of snorts from the others, but I just glare at him.
“Okay, sorry.” He points to the dead portian. “That is a mountain panther, not a portian. In some very specific and difficult to achieve circumstances, us portian can, uh, repurpose the bodies of beasts.”
He ducks his head as if expecting me to lash out.
Repurpose bodies? Doesn’t everyone do that? He specified the panther wasn’t a portian, so does that mean he, what… took their bodies?
Bunny sighs. “He’s skirting the topic. Portians are parasites that live by taking the bodies of other creatures.”
Grímr jerks at her sudden revelation. “But we never take sapients.” He turns to me. “And I’m sure áed are immune, anyway; I know áinfean are.”
That’s it? That’s the big secret? I don’t see why he would care about hiding it. It doesn’t seem much different from how I would burn a corpse or we enact the ritual or even simply using a corpse for parts. What was he so worried about?
There are a thousand things in the world more terrifying than someone that can wear another being like armour. Although, it is a bit gross.
“That’s it?” I can’t help but say.
Grímr stares at me uncomprehendingly.
“What did I tell you? Nothing to worry about with the áed.” Remus claps two of his tentacles together before rubbing them. “Now that all the drama is over with, we have a panther to sacrifice. Solvei, start up the ritual. Do you want the head, or a leg?”
I follow Remus and proceed with the ritual as I burn through the head for myself.
I wonder how Grímr takes over a creature? Is there a limit? Could he take over a Titan? I doubt it, but how big of a creature can he control? Do they have to be alive? Or dead?
So many thoughts run through my head about the possibilities. As they do, I realise why he’d been so concerned about my reaction. If he could take over a beast, then what might stop him from taking over the body of a sapient? I’m sure the very thought causes a lot of tension between the portian and the other races.
Strangely, I find myself not even worried about the possibility of it happening to me. I don’t even know how the portian might control the bodies, but I somehow, almost instinctively, know that the control of my own flames can never be taken from me.
After I’ve finished running the ritual for the team, I turn to Grímr, only to see that the entire gash in his neck has recovered. Replaced with a furless patch of unblemished hide.
I’d seen it after the first centipede fight, but at the time I’d just thought the wounds weren’t as deep as they looked. Grímr regenerates incredibly fast. No wonder he didn’t consider it an issue to take the damage he had.
As I inspect his newly grown neck, I catch him glance my way before turning his head and pretended we hadn’t locked eyes.
I guess he’s still worried about what I think. As much as I wish they hadn’t left me in the dark, I can’t say this new information has changed my opinion on him. The fact that he likes to bury people is still far more shocking.
I jump on his back, ready to continue moving, but Grímr jerks under my touch.
I raise an eyebrow as I look down at him. “You’re fine if I keep borrowing your back, yeah?”
“Of course.” He hesitates. “You’re not afraid?”
I laugh. It’s such a strange sight; a massive predator of a beast being so concerned over how he is seen by others.
“No,” I say. “Should I be?”
He shakes his head as he trots along the ice. I swear I heard him purr for an instant. If he did, he clamped down on it immediately.
Well, at least he’s happy.
