Chương 32: Chapter 31

Fan Yu believed in one thing, and one thing only. The hunt's pride. There was no despair when the Horde was crushed. The Cubs may raise laments to the night sky, and the Tempered drink, full of yearning, to the dry expanses and grasslands of their homeland. But theirs was a wish mated with acceptance. The Horde survived. As long as there was shade to nest, worthy prey to hunt and companions to share them with, the Hunt continued. Nor did they loathe the new master. Why should they?

The Horde mounted its assault over an Immortal's demesne and was defeated in savage, honorable combat. There was no better way to decide a worthy Apex to follow. Immortal Lion-Devours-The-Sky, their own Ancestor, the entity whom they owed everything they were, had declared so himself: the strong ruled, the weak obeyed. The Horde was proven weak, and so they were rightfully subdued and would rightfully serve. They may rail at the leash and cling to their ways, but only fools reject strength's influence.

No, Fan Yu wasn't scared. She hadn't been scared when Father poured the ritual lymph on her head and blessed her, gifting her luck for the road she was bade to take, a road that would take her far from campfires under the moon, when the wine was sweet and the warm air echoed with chants. She wasn't scared now, as she prowled after the Apex, breathing in the cold scent of night so deep that even a predator's glowing gaze couldn't pierce it.

It would be her mission, she had decided: the weaklings of the soft regions may call the Horde's hunters savages, but theirs was no unthinking way. The totem of Lion-Devours-The-Sky hadn't been toppled, nor replaced with one resembling All-Encompassing-Shadow, as the Apex was called among the tribes. Strength was much, strength was the pack leader's right and duty. Yet, it wasn't all.

A character that knew of honor and respect; of the bonds of the pack, the honor to give spilled blood and the ruthlessness owed a bitter enemy; a soul who recognized will and the many shapes strength could take. A runt may be weak and so given a seat far from the fire, and yet his nose may still be keener than anybody else in the pack. A mother may lie, hobbled by a distant scar, and yet still suffer the birth-pangs with the same strength of an accomplished hunter.

The Horde may follow strength, but they would rail at the leash imposed by one who rejected the proper Ways. They would scatter, bolting for the shadows. And they would die. Fan Yu was certain of it. She saw it in the walls that had risen when they first tried to leave that land, in the overwhelming power of the voice that had called them back. And yet, that wouldn't stop the Hunters. In their minds, the Godless Night was soft, corrupting, greedy and dark.

Many still remembered the time when the Dark Ones fell in droves over the grasslands, slaughtering and kidnapping. After reuniting with Father, many declared that death was better than servitude to such a thing. Were they to throw mud over Lion-Devours-The-Sky's memory by clinging to unworthy life, while seeing all their traditions abolished and corrupted?

Wouldn't it be better to just fight one last time and leave this world in a blaze of glory, each of them carrying ten skulls of Dark Ones to his belt, for the ancestors to see and honor? Father had stalled, argued, beat down challengers, but it couldn't last forever. That was why, when the Apex had demanded a tribute of arms, she had urged him to choose her instead of any other sister. She may be his firstborn, but that only meant the greater responsibility. She wouldn't shy from it.

By staying close to the Apex, she could assess her character, see if the corruption affecting that foul Sect originated from her, or if she was free from it. It had worked. The hunters agreed to wait in the grass and watch the river, even the ones whose blood burned the hottest. Fan Yu bore the tribe-name of Keen-Eye-Pierce: she was certain she could unveil deeper shadows among the shadows, and would do so, no matter the cost.

She intended to unveil the character of the one who claimed the title of Immortal, and, if she was unworthy, would be the first to strike down and die. It was her mission, and she embraced it wholeheartedly. Because of that, she had no fear. She was a hunter on the prowl. Thinking that, she followed after the Ancestor, keeping an eye on her back and trying her best not to grit her teeth. Not out of any pressure: the Founder's aura matched that of a barely bloodied Cub.

Fan Yu knew better than to trust the image, but it was still difficult to reconcile this… unobtrusive shadow with the image of destruction burned in her memory.

"Have your accommodations been to your liking?" The Ancestor asked suddenly, breaking her reverie. Fan Yu frowned, searching for hidden meanings. It sounded like a normal question, the kind a chief would ask of the guests he lodged in his house.

"The bed is too soft," she grumbled.

"And I got barely fed." There. She told about her gripes directly, not like those city-folks who liked to beat around the bush and only managed to be insulting, and kept most of her complaints to herself. Flawless. The flower-girl didn't seem to agree: the stupid thing was looking at her like she just told the Founder to jump on an iron fence.

"Is that so?" The Ancestor sounded mildly amused.

"Well, we'll take care of it, then." Fan Yu nodded, satisfied. There. Was that so hard? The flower-girl said nothing. She just covered her face with one of those ridiculously large sleeves, whatever skin she could see tinted to a soft pink. Fan Yu sneered, satisfaction draining away. Disgust swelled in her chest like a badly digested meal. The pale skin that had never seen the sun. The soft, tiny hands that couldn't hold a weapon.

Those flowery, delicate satins, all quilted with cute drawings and whatever it was that weaklings liked to put on their shirts. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. She hated it. She hated it with a visceral passion that matched little else in her life. The flower-girl – Fan Yu refused to remember her name – embodied everything she and the Devouring Horde despised. Weakness, cowardice, greed, softness of heart and character.

The flower-girls didn't chase prey, didn't purge themselves of weakness in the exultation of the hunt, didn't temper themselves in blood and hunger. They were flytraps. They stood still, mouldering in their staleness, attracting bugs with their colors; and then they would kill you when you were asleep, feeding on your soul to fuel their loathsome spells. Love was meant to be pure, a conjunction of hearts amidst the rush of life well-lived. They discredited it by turning it into fuel for weakness.

In the Horde's judgement, there was little more loathsome. If they met on any other occasion, Fan Yu wouldn't have hesitated to rip her apart. She was lucky, very, very lucky it wasn't so. She sniffed, turning away. Whatever. She had a mission. She would observe the Apex, make her judgment, and then bring back what she learned to the Horde and to Father. It was important, far more than a loathsome flower-girl with her loathsome spells and tricks. As long as she stayed out of her way, Fan Yu would ignore her.

She did so just then, jogging to keep up with the Ancestor.

"You should have told my servants about your dietary restrictions," the tall woman rebuked as they passed halls freshly opened. The planks and seals that had been used to limit access formed orderly mounds on the floor. Servants fussed over them, dividing what was usable from what was not. They stopped as their benefactor passed, bending like reeds and remaining like that even as the object of their respect was far. Without thinking, Fan Yu puffed up her chest.

She picked over the Ancestor's words for a moment, looking for heat, but found none.

"I won't apologize," she said.

"Your Sect should have known. They fought us for millennia." There. She conceded on the strength of the Godless Night while upholding the pride of the Horde. Father couldn't have spoken better. Someone who may have been a mouse squeaked behind her. Fan Yu scowled, talking herself out of turning with a swing. What was wrong with that damn flower-girl? Was she trying to steal her thunder, maybe?

It would be just like that loathsome Sect, to play with words and double-meanings when you could just come out and say what you thought. The Ancestor got it. Her laughter – low, like a brook at night – floated in the air.

"That we have," she said.

"What would be able to feed you then?" Fan Yu thought about it, trying to keep the grin from her face and her heartbeat from spiking up. Food. Real food.

"Would be an Elder for the Horde. For your Sect…" She licked her teeth. Her stomach growled. She had barely scraped the surface with that morsel from the flower-girl.

"Rank 5!" She said, excitedly. The Ancestor stopped. It happened so suddenly that Fan Yu almost ran into her back.

"One Rank above your Realm?" The woman asked, turning an arched eyebrow toward her.

"I am told that beasts of that rank don't reach the two shi in weight only rarely." Fan Yu grinned, nodding eagerly and stomping her feet. Only the idea of food, real, abundant, rich food, made her forget about everything else.

"Well, a growing girl then." The Ancestor sounded amused. Fan Yu could have picked that through any other time, but her stomach was doing the thinking at the moment.

"We'll fix you up." Fan Yu could have hugged her. Of course, she didn't. That was a bit too much, even for the Horde's very loose protocols. But she did straighten up, showing her throat and snapping her jaws in the traditional expression of deep gratitude. The Ancestor watched her for a moment, expression amused, before turning to her side, and down.

"What about you?" She asked.

"Do you have any preferences?" Fan Yu blinked. Was there a mouse there? The little squeak she had just heard felt like it belonged to a mouse. No mouse. It would have made for a tasty morsel at least. It was only the flower-girl, trembling and hiding behind her stupid sleeves. Fan Yu rolled her eyes. But it was a good chance to start her observation. Lion-Devours-The-Sky would have sent that pathetic excuse for a living being crying to her mommy. How would All-Encompassing-Shadow act instead?

As it turned out, not in the way she hoped. Instead of pressing, pulling the bravery or the fear from her bones, the Apex lowered her voice and put up a calm, welcoming mien. The flower-girl reacted immediately, one pale eye peeking from behind the sleeves, followed by a tentative smile and a small, trembling nod. Could she retch, or did they offend that too here? The thought of food and her half-empty stomach was getting to her. Focus, ili-dangan, focus! She fumed. Of course.

An Immortal may be an Immortal, but she was no Horde Immortal. She had her ways, and those countenanced weakness. Disgraceful, and yet… as Father forced her to swallow, the Godless Night had the power. It was that Sect who built great marvels and covered the land with its darkness. It was they who reached for the sky and devoured the greatest beasts. For all the purity of the Horde's ways, there was certainly something worthy to learn among them.

That was her second mission, the one Father gave upon her: to watch and learn. As long as she didn't allow herself to be contaminated by their softness, the Horde could grow from those lessons. Repressing the hunger pangs, she listened.

"I… I couldn't intrude on the Ancestor's grace…"

"I am telling you to. You'll be called to effort. For that to be at its best, everything you may need must be laid bare." The girl lowered her head, mumbling and stuttering. Fan Yu bared her teeth. Get on with it already!

"Go on… this is nothing to lose sleep over."

"Y-yes, well, I… I'd like for a… a bit more light in my quarters." Fan Yu was taken aback. More… light? Her own quarters, ample, all soft paper and deep gloom, flitted before her. She wouldn't mind some more light there. Hell, that damn Sect was so obsessed with walking in darkness that even her eyes had trouble adjusting sometimes. She should have thought of it. The Ancestor nodded and smiled, as though what the flower-girl had said was just the right thing.

"It shall be done." Fan Yu felt an itch in the back of her head. It was her instinct, she knew, trying to tell her something. She looked at the almost painful relief in the flower-girl's expression, then at the soft smile on the Ancestor's. Is she… manipulating the flower-girl? It… felt just right. One little smile, a few words and a gift, and the flower-girl ate from the palm of her hand. Sneaky. Even treacherous. The Horde Elders would scoff at it. Yet, it was undeniably effective.

The small amount of confidence that returned in the flower-girl's face, the gleam in her eyes as she watched at the Ancestor with that little bit of trust extra told her so. The Apex was watching her. Fan Yu almost missed it. She was so taken by her thoughts, and the glance was so fast before the Ancestor resumed her walk, that it almost slipped her by. But it was there, piercing like a fang through the neck. She sees me. She sees me watch. Fan Yu licked her lips, a mix of dread and excitement stalking through her.

Undeniably effective, yes. But it spoke of a hunter's mind. She… she had to continue watching. She had to know. Beside her, the flower-girl rested her forehead against a sleeved hand with a sigh. She looked as exhausted as a hunter who spent all night chasing after a horned yakku. Fan Yu's grunt made her jump. She grinned at those pale, stunned eyes, and marched after the Ancestor, feeling distinctly satisfied. Her eyes were set on the Founder's large back.

She was a bit scared now, but she was used to fear, and held it at bay easily. Her path was set. She would watch and learn. She would wrestle that Sect's secrets from it and use it to strengthen the Horde. More than anything, she would learn of this new Apex, if she was a worthy Immortal to follow, or if the Horde was to make the final choice. And she wouldn't let herself be contaminated by the weakness hidden in this new, unknown place.

Listening to the pitter-patter of the flower-girl, and the shivers it spread over her skin, she swore she would make sure of it.