Week 16

  By midday the next day, Calanthe, Briar, and Ember had reached the final shoulder of the climb.

  The path to White Plateau Watch zigzagged up the bare slopes, switchback after switchback, then emerged onto a tundra of wind-bent grass.

  Callie trailed behind, forced to stop every ten paces just to let her lungs catch up. Briar walked ahead, her pace unflagging. She paused only to toss comments over her shoulder. “Look at you, city mouse, struggling already.”

  Callie grumbled, “Last week you couldn’t climb a ladder without getting winded.”

  Briar didn’t turn, but her voice was easy, cocky. “It’s the company I keep. Some of us level up.”

  Ember padded alongside, the black wolf’s stride effortless. The beast had acclimated instantly, as if every step took him closer to his natural element.

  It was the first time in months that it had been just the three of them. The absence of Tanith and Zhao Tong was a silent, uneasy thing; like a missing tooth Callie couldn’t stop probing with her tongue.

  The wind rose, whistling over the shoulder of the pass, and Briar stopped to let Callie catch up.

  As soon as Callie drew level, Briar turned to face her. “You’re thinking about Tanith and the rest, aren’t you?”

  Callie considered lying, then shrugged. “I keep waiting for Ember to charge off after Zhao Tong. He always hated when the party split up.”

  They moved on.

  Callie noticed that Briar had started walking with a new posture; a gathering of the shoulders, a certain spring in her step. It wasn’t just the level-up. It was something else, too.

  “Out with it,” Callie said, as they rounded another bend and the plateau opened before them.

  “What?”

  “You’ve been holding onto something since dawn. Spit it out or I’ll ask Ember to drag it out of you.”

  Briar stuck out her tongue at the threat, then shrugged. “Fine. I was thinking about my parents. About how they never wanted me to leave the valley. You know what my mother said when I told her I’d signed on to travel with ‘the Monster Healer’?”

  Callie cocked an eyebrow. “Monster Healer? I treat a single warg and they call me a Monster Healer?”

  “It’s what they call you, you know. Not that I mind. Makes me sound like a proper sidekick.” Briar’s expression grew sly. She pitched her voice higher, mimicking her mother’s warning: “You’re aiming too high for your station, girl. Getting too big for your britches, running around with city folk. Don’t come home when you’re in pieces, because we’ll just bury whatever’s left.”

  “That’s… surprisingly specific.”

  Briar laughed, then grew suddenly quiet. “Anyway. I thought about it all the way up this damn hill. What would she say if she could see us now? I’m not sure if she’d be proud or just disappointed I didn’t trip and die at the first scree field.”

  Ember, hearing the shift in Briar’s tone, nudged her hand with his nose. Briar scratched his ears absently. “He’s the only one who listens without judging,” she said.

  “Not true,” Callie said. “He’s judging you right now for taking the inside line on the switchbacks. Level 36 my foot!”

  Briar grinned, but the tension in her shoulders remained. They walked on in silence for a while. The wind changed, carrying with it the faintest hint of animal musk.

  Callie squinted into the distance, then pointed. “There. Is that…?”

  Briar shaded her eyes and followed Callie’s finger. On the far side of the plateau, half-shrouded in mist, something enormous moved through the grass.

  At first, Callie thought it was a trick of the light. But as the clouds parted, she saw them clearly: a herd of cloud yaks, each one nearly the size of a small elephant, their bodies outlined in silvery mist, their shaggy hides shot through with an unnatural, spectral glow.

  Briar let out a low whistle. “Never seen one up close before,” she said. “They say their pelts can change the weather. My uncle used to claim they farted out the mountain storms, but I’m pretty sure he made that up.”

  They watched for a long moment, letting the vision sink in. Even Ember seemed momentarily spellbound, his ears perked and his tongue lolling in canine awe.

  Then Briar frowned. “Wait.”

  She started forward, her stride suddenly urgent. Ember followed, and Callie hurried after, legs burning.

  As they drew nearer, the source of Briar’s worry became clear. There were dark shapes dotting the grass, not yaks but something smaller, hunched. The wind shifted, bringing a sharp tang of blood.

  Briar broke into a run.

  The first carcass was a mess of fur and bone, the hide flayed away with brutal efficiency, large chunks of meat hewn off the bone. The exposed flesh was still steaming in the cold. All around, the trampled earth told a story of violence and panic.

  Briar knelt beside the ruined beast, her hands hovering over the wounds. “It wasn’t a predator,” she said quietly. “Look at the cuts. Too clean.”

  Callie examined the body. She saw what Briar meant: the skinning had been done by someone with skill, maybe even reverence, but in a hurry. “Poachers?”

  “Or desperate herders,” Briar said. “This is black market stuff. One pelt could feed a family for a year, but the city outlaws all trade in it.”

  Ember circled the scene, then snapped at something unseen in the grass.

  They moved to the next body. It was still alive, barely. It raised its great, misty head as they approached, eyes clouded with pain.

  “We probably spooked them before they could complete the job.” Briar drew her knife, voice shaking. “We can’t just leave it.”

  Callie knelt, felt the wound. There was nothing to heal; just enough life left for a mercy kill.

  “Do it,” Callie said softly.

  Briar didn’t hesitate; she drove the blade home, as quick and clean as any vet in the world.

  The yak exhaled, a long, low groan that faded into silence.

  They stood over the bodies, the wind ruffling their hair. No one spoke.

  At last, Briar said, “If this is happening on the plateau, there’ll be a camp nearby. Maybe half four more pelts before they’re done.”

  “We need to find them.”

  Ember looked up, as if already tracking the scent, and set off toward the far ridge.

  ***

  It took less than an hour for Briar to find their trail.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  She moved with a kind of hungry joy, crouching low to examine the scuffed grass, then bounding ahead, confident even when the signs were subtle.

  “Six men, maybe seven,” she said. “They’re camped just over the next rise. I can smell their fire.”

  Callie felt a brief, irrational envy.

  Once, she’d been the expert, the one who diagnosed and deduced, but out here her skill set seemed suddenly blunt. She watched Briar for a moment; how her friend moved, how her eyes scanned the horizon like a hawk’s; and wondered if this was how parents felt when their children learned to outrun them.

  They crested a low ridge and ducked behind a patch of wind-stunted scrub. From here, they could see the poachers’ camp: a recently stifled fire and three cloud yak pelts salted and laid out to air dry. They were making a meal of yak liver they had just harvested.

  Briar dropped to her stomach and scanned the scene. “Six,” she confirmed. “All men. Look how skinny they are.”

  Callie squinted. She saw what Briar meant: these were not bandits or thugs, but desperate, hollow-eyed herders.

  Briar reached for her bow, checking the string with a professional quickness. She nocked an arrow, then glanced at Callie, mischief in her eyes.

  “You’re not actually going to…”

  But Briar was already moving, melting through the grass like a hunting cat. Ember followed, silent and black as a shadow.

  Callie muttered a curse and tried to keep up, but by the time she reached the edge of the camp, Briar was already there, arrow drawn and aimed at the biggest of the men.

  “Don’t move,” Briar called, her voice sharp and clear. “If you do, my friend here will burn your head off.”

  Ember, as if on cue, let out a deep, rolling growl. He bared his teeth, smoke curling from the edges of his lips.

  The men froze. One dropped the knife he’d been using to scrape fat from a hide.

  “Put down the weapons,” Briar commanded.

  The leader, a bald man, raised his arms, eyes locked on the wolf. “We don’t want trouble,” he said. His accent was pure plateau. “We were only taking what’s needed.”

  Briar didn’t lower her bow. “You slaughtered half the herd. That’s not need, that’s greed.”

  The man’s eyes flicked to Callie, then back to Briar. “Easy for you to say. You sleep with a belly full. The city takes our land, the sky takes our rain. Our children don’t have shoes.”

  The others nodded, their faces carved by hunger and cold.

  Briar hesitated, arrow trembling. Callie could see the conflict: for all her bravado, Briar had never used real violence against people before.

  The leader saw the opening and lunged, reaching for the dropped knife.

  Briar reacted on instinct, but at the last second, she flinched away; her body’s ancient memory refusing to strike a fellow human. The man’s knife slashed a red line across her stomach, just above the belt. Not deep, but it bled immediately.

  The pain broke her trance.

  Ember exploded into motion, a black streak that slammed the man to the ground. The wolf’s jaws snapped just shy of the man’s throat, as if threatening the rest of the poachers.

  Callie rushed forward. “Briar…”

  Briar dropped the bow, clutching her abdomen. “Shit. Shit. That’s a lot of blood.”

  Callie pressed a hand to the wound, applying pressure. She ran through the checklist: location, depth, direction. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it would be a risk if left untreated.

  She cleaned the area with purified water and a herbal antiseptic, then used [Mend Flesh], feeling the familiar green glow pulse from her palm.

  The wound closed in an instant, leaving only a smear of blood and a pink line which would fade away within days. Briar exhaled shakily, the pain and adrenaline draining from her face.

  “Thanks,” she managed, then slumped to the ground.

  Meanwhile, Ember still held the leader down, but the man’s fight had gone out of him. He looked up at Callie, then at Briar, and something shifted in his expression; a recognition, maybe, that the balance of power had changed.

  Callie stood and addressed the camp. “We’re not here to kill you,” she said, “but we can’t let you keep doing this. You know what happens to the plateau if the yaks die out. The winds will change and the drought might get even worse.”

  The leader spat. “City folk always care more about the wind than the people.”

  Callie ignored the barb. “If you’re starving, come with us. There are resources. Food drops, maybe even work, if you talk to the right people.”

  The men looked at one another, uncertain.

  Briar sat up, wiping blood from her fingers. She shot Callie a look, one that said, I could have handled them.

  Callie gave her a look right back: Like hell you could.

  After a long silence, the leader gestured to the others. They lowered their weapons and backed away from the fire. The poachers packed up what little they had and started down the slope, moving like ghosts.

  Ember released the leader and returned to Briar’s side. The big wolf nosed her gently, as if apologizing for not getting there sooner.

  They watched the men go, and for a while, neither of them spoke.

  They sat in the cold, the sky vast and empty above them, and let the silence close in.

  ***

  They made camp nearby in a stunted grove, sheltered by a ring of twisted mountain pine.

  Ember curled himself around Briar, his warmth radiating even through the girl’s patched jacket. Callie kept the fire small, feeding it only as much as needed to keep the worst of the chill at bay. She set about cleaning and bandaging the wound, though her magic had already closed most of the damage.

  Briar watched her work in silence, biting her lip.

  At last, Briar said, “You don’t have to treat me like a patient. I’m fine.”

  Callie didn’t look up. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have taken a knife to the gut.”

  “I’m Level 36,” Briar said, voice rising. “You saw the log. That cut barely touched me. If you hadn’t jumped in, I could’ve… ”

  Callie slammed the lid on her first aid kit. “What? Killed a starving man? Let him bleed out so you could notch your bow?”

  Briar recoiled, then bristled. “Don’t put it like that. You think I wanted any of this?”

  Callie sat back, arms crossed, fixing Briar with a look she’d reserved, in her previous life, for residents who tried to fudge post-op reports. “You ran in without a plan. You didn’t even try to talk to me about it.”

  “Because you would have told me to hold back. To wait, to think. That’s not how things work out here!” Briar’s voice quavered, but she didn’t look away. “I’m not some apprentice anymore, Callie. You can’t keep treating me like I’m going to break.”

  Callie took a long breath, feeling her own irritation flare. “I’m not worried you’ll break, Briar. I’m worried you’ll get yourself killed trying to prove something.”

  Briar glared at her. “Why shouldn’t I? You saved me. Gave me a second chance. Don’t you get it? If I just go back to the same old gatherer who gets eaten by the first big beast she meets, what was the point of all of it?”

  Callie stared at her, the anger draining as she realized what she was seeing. Not defiance, not even pride; but fear.

  Briar kept going. “I know I’m lucky to be here. I know I wouldn’t have made it without you. But I don’t want to be the weak link forever. I want to earn it. My place. With you.”

  There was a long silence. Only the wind through the pine needles and Ember’s slow breathing.

  “You already have,” Callie said reaching for Briar’s hand. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to see my best friend become… strong, stubborn, alive. It makes coming here feel…” She stopped, not sure how to finish.

  Briar looked down. “I still feel like I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. Absolutely nothing. You’ve already given me more than you could ever know.”

  Ember raised his head, sensing the tension dissolve, and whined softly in approval.

  They let their hands rest, together, on the old blanket between them.

  After a while, Briar said, “Do you think the poachers will make it back to the city?”

  Callie shrugged. “Not if they’re as bad at foraging as they are at knife fighting. You have a plan?”

  “Not yet. But I have an idea.”

  They watched the fire die down, and for a long time said nothing at all.

  ***

  They found the poachers where Briar said they would be: holed up in a shallow ravine, hiding from the wind. There were fewer now. Two had left, maybe to scout, maybe to run; but the leader was still there, tending the world’s most pitiful fire.

  Briar approached alone, her hands open.

  The leader eyed her warily. “You come to finish the job?”

  “No,” Briar said. “I came to make a deal.”

  He laughed. “You got nothing I want. And I don’t need lessons on how the world works from someone like you.”

  “Maybe not,” Briar said, “but you might not get so lucky with the next ranger they send your way. But if you had a license; if the city let you harvest only the shed pelts during molting season, and maybe hired you to keep the real poachers out…” She trailed off, watching the idea work its way through the man’s brain.

  “A Sky Warden?” he said, incredulous. “That’s a joke. The city would never allow that.”

  Briar shrugged. “If the migration fails, the weather dies along with it. We might be able to persuade them; at least give the idea a chance.”

  The leader’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in it for you?”

  “Nothing,” Briar said. “I just want to go home without hating myself.”

  Callie watched the leader for a long moment, and saw something break in the man’s expression.

  He spat into the snow, then nodded. “You get us the license, we stop the killing. You bring us the Duke’s seal, and we’re Sky Wardens from now on.”

  Briar stuck out her hand. The man hesitated, then took it, his palm rough and cold as tree bark.

  ***

  They climbed down the mountain as the day faded, Ember loping ahead to clear the way.

  At the first switchback, Callie noticed a flicker of text at the corner of her vision:

  [XP +600 | Conflict Resolution: Ethical Equilibrium]

  The number was less than she’d expected, but she ignored it. There was something more pressing at hand.

  She glanced at the party status in her interface, and her heart squeezed: the XP had been split three ways, not four. Tanith had left the group. She decided to refrain from telling Briar until her suspicions could be confirmed.

  ***

  They reached the base of the mountain the next afternoon. Briar led the way, her new confidence plain in every stride.

  The path leveled out and the world grew green again. At the tree line, a cluster of shadows waited, silent and perfectly still.

  Ember caught their scent first. He stiffened, then stepped in front of Callie and Briar.

  The shapes resolved: four Emberlings, squat minions, flickering in and out of sight; four Shadeclaws, hunched and hungry-looking; and two hulking Gorekins.

  The lead demon stepped forward. It was a Shadeclaw, taller than the rest with limbs ending in long, white talons.

  It pointed at Briar with a bony finger. “You didn’t submit the Hell audit,” it said, its voice like a wind scraping across dry bones.

  “We have come to ensure compliance.”