---Raala’s perspective---

  The tall man travels a few paces ahead of me as we walk along the edge of the ice at the bottom of a gigantic trench in the earth, a fierce blizzard wind whipping snow into our faces.

  Ksem holds his right hand between his eyes and the oncoming gale to act as a break.

  I’m able to walk while keeping my face angled far enough downward that the wind hits my brow and deflects over the top of my head without getting to my eyes.

  It is giving me a gradually worsening brainfreeze though! Like that sensation of drinking cold water too quickly, only a slow creep instead of a sharp sear!

  I’m tired…

  Pulling a sledge laden with venison was already more difficult than usual but the loose, powdery snow I’m having to drag it through is absolutely sapping my energy!

  I’ve got my hands tucked beneath the rope harness at my shoulders to keep it from cutting into my flesh. I hate the sensation of my cloak repeatedly flapping into the taut ropes behind me and sending those vibrations into my hands though!

  “THIS IT!?” I shout to be heard against the roaring wind.

  “This is the Thundering Rift, yes. Even in this visibility, I can tell that much!” Ksem answers, gesturing up at the shadows looming above us through the thickly lashing snow beneath the dark grey sky.

  He doesn’t need to shout quite as loud as me since I’m down wind of him.

  “BACK IN THE BASIN THEN?”

  “Will be soon!”

  “THERE A PLACE TO SHELTER!?”

  “Don’t know! Travelled up there last time!” he shouts back, gesturing with his bow to the top of the slopes on our left “Too exposed there now… Don’t remember seeing anywhere that looked good until the other side but… was just looking for places that hundreds could camp… Might not remember seeing a place for just one tent!… You’re right! Need to get out of this storm! Look out for pitchsites!”

  ---Ksem’s perspective---

  The moonlight illuminates the fresh snow covering the ground of the still forest in this sheltered valley coming off from the Rift.

  A few hundred paces on my right is the messily pitched tent that we set up in a hurry this afternoon, during the snowstorm.

  Raala’s resting inside.

  Uncharacteristically, she offered to help me gather the wood but I declined.

  This journey’s been much tougher on her than me, what with the broken toe, the fever and whatever’s been going on with her since we left Speartooth. She needs the rest!

  She still insists on being the one to pull the sledge though!

  I don’t know exactly what she thinks she has to prove to me?

  I already know she’s stronger than me… but pulling a sledge seems like it’s equal parts strength and endurance! Wouldn’t it both make more sense and be fairer to alternate who pulls it?

  In my periphery, I see the flash of a pale skinned face briefly peeking out from the tent door before disappearing back inside.

  She’s been checking on me every few hundred heartbeats.

  I don’t know exactly what she thinks I might be doing out here besides collecting wood?

  I chuckle as I indulge myself with the thought that she might be worried for my safety(!)

  No…

  No matter how much she seems to have softened on me recently, I can’t fool myself into thinking she actually cares for me!

  I may have graduated from ‘waste of space’ but she’s made it very clear that, no matter how I might feel about her, I’ll never be anything besides an annoyance in her eyes! Someone she tolerates because she has to!

  At this point, I spot a promising looking piece protruding from the snow.

  Sensing that retrieving it might be a two handed job, I dump the armful of sticks down, giving an internal sigh at the way they sink into the powder.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  I make a mental note to put them down more carefully next time, to lessen the work of picking them up again.

  Turning my attention back to the new piece, I step over to it.

  I bring my fingers down to brush aside the top layer of light, loose dust, crack through the refrozen crust below and scoop out handfuls of the much more densely packed snow beneath.

  Once a portion of it has become visible, I begin assessing it.

  “Ah… No good!” I complain, aloud.

  It was clearly completely rotten and waterlogged before it froze!

  With infinite time, it might be worth drying out to use later but, given that I don’t think Raala’ll have the patience to be delayed much more than a day or two for a charcoal top off, it’s not worth it.

  I’m just about to return to the pile of sticks I dumped into the snow, when every hair on my body stands on end.

  I shoot to my feet and turn to face a patch of shadows that my instincts just alerted me conceals a threat.

  A shape emerges into the moonlight.

  It stands waist height but around as long as I am tall.

  Its limbs are powerfully thick and it looks like it might be twice my weight!

  Its fur is a tawny reddish orange and its lower jaw is flanked by two long, canine daggers, meant for slicing out throats rather than crushing windpipes.

  There is a fraction of a heartbeat where useless panic begins welling up inside me, directing me to run, to scream, to do things I objectively know will get me killed! Then, doing the equivalent of pressing his finger into panic’s lips and telling him to sit down and shut up, pragmatism takes over.

  My mind goes utterly silent of all the noise I only ever notice when it’s gone while pragmatism uses the handful of heartbeats left to do so to work out what action to take.

  Running is immediately ruled out!

  Other than crocodiles (who don’t chase on land), you never run from predators! Running signals that you know you’re made of food and you will never outrun anything made to chase in sprint!

  I consider darting for a stick to defend myself with but calculate that it will be on top of me long before I’m in any position to oppose it.

  I could call for Raala but with the distance she has to travel to get here, I’ll already be half eaten!

  Pragmatism finally settles on a plan after what felt like hundreds of heartbeats but probably all took place inside of two!

  I stand, stock still, facing the speartooth male and fixing its yellow eyes with my browns.

  It slows its approach, giving itself more time to assess me.

  The first part of my plan is working. It’s unnerved by the fact that I’m not acting like food.

  It comes to a complete stop.

  Unless it’s either come here from the Plateau or happened to see my people as we passed by, I’m almost certainly the first of my kind this animal’s ever seen.

  I’m hoping that makes a difference!

  I’m hoping it can tell that I’m not of Raala’s people and I hope it understands the idea that that means it can’t be certain of what to expect of me.

  Raala’s people would either be running towards it for a fight or running away (faster than I ever could) at this point. The fact that I’m not doing either should hopefully be giving it anxiety about me!

  ‘The thing you have to understand, boy, is that predators don’t attack us because they hate us any more than we hate prey!’ my father’s voice echoes in my mind ‘In that regard, they are preferable to people(!)… A person may attack you because they hate you! They don’t wish to eat you, they don’t wish to rob you! What they want is for you to not exist anymore!… In order to deter such an attacker, you would need to make them believe that you have the capacity to win a fight against them, that you will not be the one sent back through the Cycle… and even then, if they hate you enough, even that might not be sufficient! When a lion is deciding whether to attack you or not, you don’t need to make it believe you could actually defeat it! All you need is to cause it to believe you’d be more trouble than you’re worth to it! Humans are small and lean… We don’t make for good eating(!) We certainly aren’t worth risking losing an eye for, for instance! If you signal that you’re ready to meet a challenge, they’ll usually decide you aren’t worth the risk! They could eat better for less danger by sticking to gazelles and impala!’

  Cycle, Father! I hope your advice applies as well in the North as it did in the South! I hope the starvation of these freezing Winters doesn’t alter this animal’s willingness to accept risk!

  The speartooth lurches forward from where it was appraising me with heartstopping speed!

  My right arm flies out, fingers splayed, towards the animal’s thick snout.

  It stops dead, just outside of my reach.

  I extend my left arm to my side, making the same splayed gesture with the fingers and staring down at the panting animal.

  It’s visibly distressed by my refusal to behave in a way it can clearly categorise as ‘food’ or ‘not food’.

  It retreats a few paces but seems unwilling to turn its back on me.

  Should I back away from it or is that a bad idea?

  Should I start walking toward it and trust that its alarm will make it flee instead of attacking me?

  Then, from the distance on my left, I hear a panicked shriek of “KSEM!!!”

  The speartooth allows its attention to briefly flick in Raala’s direction in a way that I do not allow mine to!

  I hear the rapid footfalls of my companion approaching and the speartooth seems to decide that it now prefers to run, turning to my right and bounding into the forest.

  I watch it go, not yet allowing myself to feel relief!

  As soon as I’m sure it’s not coming back, my pragmatism releases me, allowing me to feel all the fear I didn’t through the entire encounter at once!

  My ears ring.

  My legs give out and I collapse into a kneeling position in the snow.

  My hands are trembling and my whole body is wracked with shudders.

  My breaths come deep and fast.

  I feel weak and nauseated!

  Raala appears beside me, a spear in her left hand and a look of furious terror on her face.

  She extends her right down to me and I allow her to pull me back to my feet.

  “Why didn’t you shout for me?!” she roars at me, furiously.

  “Thought…*huh*… about it.” I pant in answer, looking down at her “Would’ve taken…*huh*… too long for…*huh*… you to reach…*huh*… and it might’ve…*huh*… attacked if I…*huh*…shouted!”

  She looks up at me, her beautiful features twisting in incredulity as she listens to my reasoning.

  Then, she answers “You idiot!” tossing down her spear, reaching up to hook her hands under the armholes of my jacket and irresistibly yanking my upperbody downwards.

  There’s a brief moment where I think that she’s about to headbutt me but… no…

  What happens is a hundred and forty four times as shocking!

  Her lips meet mine in a passionate gesture it takes me several long moments of mental floundering to recognise as a kiss!

  What?!?!?!

  Blizzard | | |