“Shit!” Kamaitachi yelled as he pulled a gun from beneath his jacket. He scanned the area but could not see where the shot had come from. Why had they targeted Dipak? He’d thought it was the boy they’d want dead. He looked back and saw that Gytha was hauling Dipak into the house. Heather was in the kitchen directing her son to clear the table as she dug pots and jars from the shelves. It looked as though she was no stranger to injured men.

Dipak grunted when Gytha thumped him up on the table, but he didn’t regain consciousness. Gytha gave him no further attention. Her talents were not for healing. Either this woman had those gifts or she didn’t. If she did, then Dipak may live. If she did not then he would die. For Gytha, it was that simple. Each time that Dipak died, she found him and gave him back his name. She would do it again if she had to. But right now, she planned on tearing out the throat of the person that had pulled the trigger. Her claws flashed only a moment before she slipped into the haze. Angerona clutched to Gytha’s back and clicked in her ear, but Gytha gave the spider no attention. It was time for the dealing of death.

Amaterasu was standing on the porch, looking out at the tree line. Her pale skin glowed softly, bringing her robes to shimmering life. Her eyes were huge, seeming to suck in all the light. Kamaitachi was being more active. With his gun held up, he was searching the yard. He moved quickly. Looking behind a bin and then moving to check behind a small shed. He was systematic and careful. Gytha moved past Amaterasu.

"Chasing them will only attract more attention," Amaterasu stated.

Gytha snarled and whirled away. The bloated bitch was wrong. The shooter was out there and she was going to find him. She would have answers and then she would dine on his fucking corpse. Then there would be nothing more to it. Dead men are never a problem. Lunging herself onto the ground, she began running on all fours. Claws tore at the soil and flung sod up behind her. Her body scrunched up and then stretched out; as agile as a leopard. Angerona gripped on so tight that she drew small pin pricks of blood, but Gytha didn’t notice.

The forest was still. Not even the wind dared to stir the leaves as Gytha moved through the shadows, her bare feet making no sound on the damp earth. Every muscle in her body was coiled with purpose, her claws gleaming in the pale light that filtered through the canopy. The scent of her prey lingered in the air, sharp and metallic, tainted with fear. Gytha could taste it, feel it vibrating in her chest like the low growl that rumbled just beneath her breath.

Dipak’s blood had spilled. The thought sent a cold rage surging through her, but she remained steady, controlled. Emotions were for later. Now, there was only the hunt.

Her black eyes, cold and unblinking, scanned the undergrowth. She didn’t need to see him to know he was close. The human who dared harm the Life Spark was running, scrambling like a frightened animal. She could feel the terror rolling off him in waves, hear the frantic beat of his heart pounding against the trees. He thought he could hide, but Gytha was patient. She was a predator, and the forest was her domain.

She dropped low, blending with the thick shadows, her body eerily still, like a coiled serpent ready to strike. Her claws dug into the earth, sensing the tremors of his movements through the ground. The soft rustle of fabric caught her ear, distant but close enough. He was up ahead, fumbling through the brush. Gytha's lips curled into a feral smile.

Her body was a weapon, trained for stealth and death. She moved with unnatural silence, her icy aura creeping ahead of her like a warning that came too late. She allowed herself to enjoy the chase for a moment, to savor the anticipation of the kill. The human was panicking now, stumbling over roots, his breathing ragged. He was close. Too close to escape.

She watched him fall, his hands clawing at the dirt as he gasped for air. The thick scent of sweat and blood filled the air. He had no idea how close she was. Gytha crouched, mere feet away, her body rigid and unmoving, waiting for the perfect moment.

Then, like a sudden storm, she was on him.

A sharp, pained cry split the night as Gytha’s claws sank into his flesh. She dragged him back into the shadows before he could even think to scream again. His blood, hot against her cold hands, pulsed through his veins in a panic, but he was too weak to struggle. His body trembled beneath her grip, his breath shallow and rapid as he realized the truth. He was prey.

“You shot him,” she whispered, her voice as cold and hard as the icy touch of her claws. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of fact. The human whimpered, tears streaming down his face, but Gytha had no mercy to offer.

“You will never touch him again.”

Her claws slipped through his skin like water, cutting deep and swift. His breath hitched, and then he was silent, his body limp in her grasp. Gytha held him there for a moment longer, her eyes cold, her expression unreadable. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she released him, letting his body crumple to the ground like a discarded rag.

The forest was silent again, but this time, it was her silence, the quiet of a predator after the kill.

She stood over the body, her breath calm, controlled, and turned away, leaving nothing but a faint chill in the air. She would return to Dipak now. The hunt was over.

Back at the forest's edge, Kamaitachi tucked his gun away. There wasn’t anything in the yard and if there was something to find in the woods, Gytha was more likely to find it than he was. He shifted his gaze from the shadowy tree line towards a movement he’d caught from the corner of his eye. He’d drawn his gun back out as he’d moved, swinging quickly, but there was nothing there. Sweeping the weapon back and forth, he scanned the area. Nothing. The stress was making him jumpy. He turned, letting the gun drop to his side and walked back to the house. Once upon the porch he again put it away.

Amaterasu was sitting on the couch in the living room. Her eyes were large and unfocused. He knew that she was searching in her own way. Shrugging, he moved into the kitchen. He didn’t want to sit in there with her. Those eyes got too empty. In the kitchen, Heather was giving calm instructions to her son who was following them with confident and sure hands. Who were these people that they could drag a shot man into their home and remain so calm?

“Can I help?” Kamaitachi asked.

“I assume you’re being here means that there won’t be any more shots fired,” Heather said without looking up from her work.

“There is no one in the immediate area. The others are doing longer ranged scouting,” Kamaitachi answered.

Heather nodded. She reached down and Jacob put a pair of thin scissors into her bloody hand. Jacob took no notice of the red smeared on his fingers as he moved onto his next task. From one thing to the next, he did what his mother asked. He handed her tools and washed items. All Heather had asked Kamaitachi to do was to sit in the chair next to the fire and to stay out of the way. At first, he had considered protesting. But now that he’d watched them he knew that she had been right. He would have only hindered their smooth and near perfect rhythm. Most of the time when Heather asked for something, Jacob was passing it to her before the request was made. These were two who had spent long hours together in such work.

Heather sighed.

“Wash up, Jacob,” she said.

He quickly gathered things into a basin and hefted them towards the sink. Heather wiped her hands onto a damp towel and sat beside the fire across from Kamaitachi. She pulled a pipe and a small pouch of tobacco from a basket that was beneath the chair. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“If you want some, there’s more in the basket under your chair,” she said while waving the pipe in his general direction.

Kyoka poked her head out from his hair and gave a small squeak of protest. He laughed and rubbed between her ears. He’d never smoked, why’d she think he would now?

“Your loss,” Heather said as she lit the pipe.

Dipak laid on the table. His eyes were closed. Sallow skin and shallow breath confessed his sickness. Two thin plastic tubes hung out of his chest, telling of his trauma. Blood dripped from the tubes. Nothing looked healthy. But he wasn’t dead and that was more than could have been expected.

“Will he live?” Kamaitachi asked.

Heather shrugged and took a couple puffs off her pipe.

“It really depends on if the infection gets in.”

She gestured about the room in a vague way with the end of the pipe.

“It’s not sterile here,” she said.

Jacob came between them and sat a large steaming mug on the small table next to the chair that Kamaitachi was sitting in. Then he put his small hand on Kamaitachi’s arm.

“Don’t worry, Kam. Horse will be alright. He’s strong. But even if he dies, he’s always reborn.”

The boy smiled up at him. His certainty was a radiance that spoke of the faith of children. But then he turned and was hurrying about the stove again.

“Kam. I like that!” Kyoka declared.

Kam sighed. He knew there was no undoing this. He fucking hated it, but there was no point in fighting about it.

“Kam is easier to say,” Heather pointed out.

Humans are so lazy. But he said nothing. She smiled and softly laughed.

“Where did you learn medicine?” Kam asked.

“Did you think that my husband kept his war from home?” she asked.

It surprised him, because he had actually thought just that. Did the Faithful of the Eternal really risk themselves and their families by bringing their rebellion to their homes?

“Where else did you think that farmers and villagers fought from? Did you think that we had secret hideouts that we snuck to at night?”

Her laugh was a bark and ended in a cough. Puffing on her pipe seemed her solution for soothing the coughing fit. It didn’t seem the best treatment option to Kam, but he didn’t think that saying anything would be helpful or advisable.

Jacob returned again with another large steaming mug. This one was for his mother. Recalling his own mug, Kam picked it up and took a careful sip. It was good. Figured he’d call it tea since it was some kind of mix of herbs. Kyoka stuck her nose down and also had a drink. Draping herself over his hands; she appreciated the warmth more than the flavor.

“Thank you, it’s good,” Kam said.

“Welcome,” Jacob said before scurrying away.

“He’s responsible for his age,” Kam said.

“Odd you mean,” she corrected, looking directly at him.

There was an oddness about her as well. He had known the boy’s father and he had been a powerful mage, but he had been a simple, straight forward man.

It was the mother that was complex. Her appearance was plain at first glance, but the longer he stared at her, the more he realized that she wasn’t plain at all. The hair he had first thought was brown was in fact a burnished bronze that was secured up behind a grey veil to help hold it in the braid. Her tan skin was dulled by the dirt (and now the blood) that she allowed to indurate through her pores. But there was nothing to tame the flashing of her eyes. They were a vibrant blue that cut to your core; challenging you and denying you. Yes, defiance was the word that best described her.

“Is being responsible that unusual in young human males?” Kam asked. He really didn’t know.

Tipping her head slightly to one side she paused, then shrugged before returning to her pipe.

Jacob returned with a small shallow bowl of milk and a little pillow. Both of which he put on the floor next to the fire. He offered his hands to Kyoka and she took the ride down to her own refreshment which she enjoyed more than the tea.

When he came in the room the next time Kam expected him to have something for himself, but instead he stood at the doorway with a vague look of anxiety.

“What’s the matter?” Heather asked, extending one arm out to him.

He went to her and leaned his body against her. She folded her arm around him and tucked his head under her chin.

“I don’t know what leaves eat,” he said.

“Leaves?” She laughed as she lifted his chin so that she could see his face.

Kam smiled. Stretching out his arm and uncoiling his fingers, he silently asked the little spirits to come from hiding. Heather’s eyes went wide as the leaves drifted about him. Gold, red and yellow; the colors of Autumn flitted about him. It made her think of her son, sitting in the yard earlier in the week.

“I’ve never known them to eat anything,” Kam said.

Jacob reached a hand out to them and they shyly danced away.

“They don’t eat?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.”

It was then that Amaterasu came lumbering into the room. Kam couldn’t help thinking of a blind slug that had been fished up from beneath a rock. Jacob returned to the stove while Heather rose with the pipe clenched in her teeth to drag another chair to the fire. Apparently there wasn’t another table to be had because she pulled over a box instead. While she was up, she threw a few more logs into the fireplace. About the same time that Heather sat, Jacob was putting a mug in Amaterasu’s hands and a small saucer on the box serving as her table.

“Did you see anything, Ama?” the boy asked.

She shook her head.

Kam sighed.

Gytha spent the day, always widening her circle. There was no sign that anyone else had been in the forest. Hanging from a branch and swinging gently she tried to consider the implications of this; but she could still smell Dipak’s blood on her hands and it was distracting.

Angerona chittered. Gytha lifted her hand so that the flat of her palm was up in front of Angerona’s face. The spider bit her, injecting her sedating venom. Gytha’s body was long accustomed to its exposure and it no longer put her to sleep. But it quickly slowed her heart rate and the fog of adrenaline lifted from her vision.

“They were never any others in the forest,” Gytha whispered. "But the Guntai work in a unit."

She lifted herself up onto the branch and slowly moved her way back to the farm house.

Abiding by Dipak’s request that she respect human custom, she stood on the porch, let her haze drop and knocked on the door. When the door opened, the smell of sickness hit her in the face. She paid no attention to whatever it was the woman had said, it didn’t matter. Looking down at the woman standing in the door, Gytha breathed deeply. Yes, it was her. She leaned down and caught the woman by the arm when she attempted to back away. She cried out and pushed at her. Gytha used her other hand to pull the woman’s head back by her hair. Pressing her face against the woman’s neck she smelled her where the blood was close to the surface and fresh from the heart.

“Gytha!” Kam yelled. “Let her go.”

Gytha released the woman and she stumbled back.

“She has Taipan venom in her blood,” Gytha hissed.

Kam helped Heather keep her feet. They both now looked at Gytha. Heather pushed from Kam, scooped her pipe up from the floor and waved her hand at Gytha dismissively.

“I don’t know who you are, but there hasn’t been any snakes here to bite me,” Heather said as she sat back in her chair.

“Are you sure?” Kam asked.

Gytha snorted.

“Heather, do you have anything to treat Taipan venom?” Kam asked.

She stuffed tobacco into her pipe and looked up at them.

“You’re serious?” she asked.

Kam nodded.

“If there is Taipan venom in my blood then I’m going to have a bad night,” she stated.

She put the pipe into her mouth and sucked on it in short bursts to get it going again.

“There is no antivenom available for it here. Most die from it. About a quarter pull through on their own, but there is nothing my medicine can do. I'll either handle it or not.”

Taking another long draw on her pipe she met Kam’s eyes and then she flicked her gaze to Jacob for only a moment before returning to Kam. He nodded.

“But there have been no snakes around here,” she said.

Gytha started to say something, but Kam cut her off with “No, I suppose not. This isn’t their territory.”

Heather helped Jacob finish cleaning the kitchen. They went about this chore like it was any other day. The dishes were washed and put away. The abandoned meal scraped into a bucket for the pigs. The blood was mopped from the floor. The laundry was piled up and left for the morning. Apparently the laundry was always washed in the morning so that it had the full day to hang in the sun.

Kam noticed the changes while she worked. Giving instructions to her son as usual, her words slurred. She seemed tired and her eye lids hung heavy. When bringing up a basket of laundry, her stride was more an awkward shuffle. Despite all these obvious symptoms, she kept working along side her son.

Kam wondered what she hoped to accomplish.

“Alright, off to bed,” Heather said after giving the boy a hug and kiss.

Jacob ran into the other room and up the stairs. Heather made more tea.

Ama went into the living room, her light had faded with the setting of the sun. She looked weak and tired. She slumped down onto the couch and was quickly asleep.

Gytha paced in front of the windows occasionally breaking the pattern to stand briefly at Dipak’s side. She would touch his cheek, arm or hand and then turn to resume her pacing. The claws of her feet clicked on the floor and left small scratches in the wood. Angerona clung to her back and bobbed her body with the rhythm of Gytha’s movements.

Heather had watched them for only a moment before shuddering and returning to making the tea.

“Gytha, do you like tea?” Heather asked.

“No.”

Heather poured out two mugs and carried them to the small tables at the fire. She forgot the little companion until it rose up on its hind legs with a hopeful lift of its head. Heather laughed and then brought it some milk.

“I never thought I would be having a ferret for company at my fire,” Heather said.

“I’m a weasel,” Kyoka corrected.

“Pardon,” Heather said and sat down. She rubbed her head and fished a small plastic bag from a pocket of her apron.

“There was a bullet in his wound,” she stated.

She lifted the bag up. In it there was a small round object that had a green cast to it.

“What is that?” Kam asked as he rose and took the bag from her. He looked at it as best he could in the unreliable fire light.

“What's left of a bullet,” she said.

Kam didn’t know what to make of it.

Gytha plucked it from his hands. She opened the bag and pulled it out.

“Don’t, it’s poisoned!” Heather reached out her hand.

“I know,” Gytha said.

Her long tongue wrapped around it and drew it into her mouth. Rolling it around she tasted it the way a rich man would taste a piece of expensive cheese.

“There isn’t much of the Taipan here, but there is something else,” she said.

She pulled it out of her mouth. Thick strings of saliva clung to it and stretched from her mouth. She stuffed it back into the bag, letting the saliva coat the outside in a thick sheet. She handed it back to Kam who was careful to take it by the corner that was not coated. A trail still connected itself to Gytha’s mouth as she started to speak.

“I’m not familiar with the other flavor and it doesn’t have a scent,” Gytha said.

Kam was glad when the string of spit finally broke, but wasn’t happy that it was now swinging from the bag in front of him. Heather watched the end of it moving along its arch. Suddenly, she stood up, got a bowl from the kitchen and scooped the whole mess up. Kam mouthed a thank you to her.

“You know that’s really fucking gross?” Heather asked as she turned towards the kitchen.

Gytha said nothing.

Kam pointed to Gytha’s face and whispered “You still have some-“

Gytha twitched her head to one side and made an odd clicking noise. Angerona reached from behind with a fluff of silk and wiped Gytha’s face. Angerona clicked and chittered rapidly. Gytha responded in the same manner. Gytha gestured her claws towards Heather and then to Kam, making guttural noises and a grunt. More clicking from Angerona.

Gytha looked at Heather a moment and then said “I’m sorry my spit is fucking gross.”

Angerona clicked rapidly and then stroked her leg across Gytha’s cheek.

Heather covered her smile with her hand, but Gytha saw it.

“What?”

“I just… Well, having a giant spider as a life coach is kind of funny,” Heather said.

“Life coach?” Gytha asked.

Heather opened her mouth to explain, waved it in front of her mouth and then said, “Never mind.”

Kam said “And don’t worry about the spit. We appreciate the help.”

Gytha nodded.

After a pause, Gytha snatched Heather’s hand and lifted it up to the light, revealing the green that stained her finger tips.

“Why wait until now to tell us about the poison?” Gytha asked.

“I wanted my boy in bed,” Heather said.

Gytha ran her claws along her hip line but said nothing. She growled softly, unsure what the boy being in bed had to do with the matter.

“Was I supposed to tell my boy that his mother and his friend are likely to die tonight?” She stood and took a step forward so that she was standing close to Gytha. She stared up at her with tears clinging to the corners of her eyes.

“Was I supposed to bring him nightmares and fear when there is nothing to be done but to wait?” she asked quietly.

Gytha watched the tears fall down the sides of Heather’s face, the trembling of her shoulders and the clutching of her fists. What would it be like to feel that? She raised her hand and with the blunt side of her claw, she carefully wiped the tears away.

“No mother,” Gytha whispered.

Heather crumpled against Gytha’s strength and sobbed. Gytha pulled her into her arms and cradled her like a child. Humming and rocking, she offered the only comfort that she could. Dipak once told her that when he was suffering it was nice to have the presence of a friend. Was the presence of a stranger better than being alone?

It was not long into the night before Dipak also started showing the signs of the poison. He had vomiting and was bleeding freely from his wound.

“Should we move him from the table?” Kam asked.

“He might be more comfortable on the couch,” Heather offered.

Gytha went into the living room and moved the dark, shriveled Ama into a chair. She then carefully carried Dipak to the couch. She sat on the floor next to him. When Heather brought in a bowl of cold water and a cloth it was Gytha who stroked his forehead with it.

Heather watched the way that Gytha tended to him. Her movements were mechanical, but careful. Was there love behind her efforts?

“What do we do now?” Kam asked.

“We wait,” Heather said.

His lips, eyelids and finger tips had taken on a green cast. Thick saliva drooled from his mouth. Muttering, he tossed his head. His eyes flicked open and his voice was suddenly clear.

“I will die a thousand times and I will know you,” Dipak declared quietly.

Heather shuttered.

“What does he mean?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Kam said.

“It’s the promise he made to Raven,” Gytha whispered after a pause.

Heather put her hand over her mouth.

“How long has he known my son?”

“They have lived many lives together,” Gytha said, looking up at Heather. “He loves your son deeply. Even if he dies this day, he will be reborn and he will seek your son out in his next life.”

“Amser is dying. I need help getting him onto Miyu. He needs to go back to Enaid,” Dipak whispered.

Heather looked over to Kam and then to Gytha.

“He is living another time,” Gytha said.

“You have known him a long time then,” Heather said.

“Yes.” Gytha brushed the damp hair out of Dipak’s face.

“So, you’re reborn with him and my son?” she asked.

“No, I have just lived a very long time,” she said.

“I’ll remember this aid,” Dipak said as he reached out and took Gytha’s hand. He clutched at her tightly.

“That debt has been repaid,” she whispered it close to his ear.

Then the convulsions began. His back arched up and his jaw clenched. Blood frothed out from the corners of his mouth. His arms came up as his knees folded, then for a moment they relaxed back down only to jerk back up again. This lasted a few moments before his body went limp. His hands wandered aimlessly; picking at the blanket and grasping at the air. Gytha looked into his mouth.

“He bit his tongue,” she reported.

Using the cool cloth, she washed away the blood and continued to run it over his flushed face.

The convulsions came and went. Between them his hands wandered and he muttered. He made weak efforts to rise but Gytha easily kept him on the couch. During this time he started to have episodes of when his breathing wheezed. He would often vomit which Gytha cleaned up as if to wash away the evidence of his sickness. Heather carried away the dirty water and brought back clean. Gytha never left his side. She clicked, hummed and whispered to him.

Then Heather began to vomit. She knew it was her turn to face the full brunt of the poison’s torment. Pulling the cushions from the empty chair, she laid herself down. There was nothing else to do. Kam knelt beside her and she took the hand that he offered her.

“If I die, take Jacob to Enaid,” she said.

He nodded. She was glad that he made no protest and had offered to bullshit about how it wasn’t possible that she would die this night. There was no way for them to know that. But she did. She had hugged her son for the last time.

Their night was the same. Fever flushed their skin. Green hue crept over their bodies. Convulsions came in waves. Between the seizures they spoke of past times and reached out their hands grasping for nothing. They vomited until their stomachs were empty and then kept trying anyway.