The Hunter's Song

6: Lifeless (Eh'kt)

This wasn't how I wanted her body.

I was supposed to gut her and wade my claws in her blood. The Dread rarely went as planned and this one had surpassed all my inclinations. My prize was finally in my possession, but according to the law and my blood oath, I couldn't claim it as my own.

It was a long walk back to my ship and I was eager to review the recording of our battle. Naturally, I intended to evaluate every detail in large-scale, but there were multitudes of input to analyze.

I had to readjust Mourning Crow's lifeless body slung over my shoulder while trying to access the keypad on my recently retrieved left wristcomm. Actually, I needed to rearrange all of my cargo. Her body, redressed, of course, my wristcomm, her guitar, my scorch-pike that was now permanently bent and wouldn't compress, all balanced together with only one functional hand.

I clipped Mourning Crow's tiny skull helmet onto my belt. It was an odd little armament. It was an old, non-electronic faceplate, deliberately designed to force the wearer to shut their eyes. Also, the internal configuration was faveolate in structure, as if to amplify three elongated sections running along her forehead. This crucial discovery offered a new perspective into Mourning Crow's final showdown with the Graven.

I gave into a gruff chuckle. "The little psycho killed that fucker with her eyes closed."

A half-size recording materialized within my helm's monitor. I fast-forwarded with my short touch-quills to when the first pink goat appeared and zeroed in on Mourning Crow. I should have recognized sooner why she was so at ease with fighting the Graven.

No uncontaminated person could be so righteous.

I growled and shook my head. The memory of her deliberately opening up her veins made my chest sink. I was all too familiar with circumstances necessitating suicide. My own sire preserved his honor with such a maneuver. I may very well have seized control similarly had I been the one infected.

Regardless of my interrupted Dread Trial and the Graven cadaver that disintegrated immediately after death, there remained numerous momentos to officiate. I couldn't claim her bones but I would cryo-store Mourning Crow's body and transport it to Sahei. The Institute would demand detailed records of this encounter and then perform detailed scans of her anatomy.

Nothing would be wasted.

An elusive melody wriggled in the back of my mind. The song she sang this morning, it... I froze solid and then scrambled to rewind my personal archive further. This morning I wasn't listening. I was irritable and impatient. But there it was, clear as the sky above the forest canopy recorded in the video. Mourning Crow was singing her plan to me.

Back then, I turned my back halfway through, but that didn't stop me from raising the volume now.

It was an upbeat ballad about the end of an endless contest and a lake she couldn't swim through. Many of the lyrics were colorful, self-deprecating quips, but each section contained explicit details.

If only I had been in tune with Mourning Crow sooner.

I paused the image of her smirking while teasing me about a dance floor. Zhaguai had little interest in frivolity or dancing, but perhaps it was an activity we should yield a bit more credence.

I skipped the archive forward to my favorite section, the part where she killed the Graven, and slowed the replay down to more closely dissect her footwork. Midway, I glanced over at her long legs hanging over my shoulder, then nudged the slender appendages with my stumped left arm.

Flawless.

She was surprisingly light, considering the heft packed behind her punches. My mind flashed to her crouched over the Graven, ramming her fist through that monster's chest. I may have missed my opportunity to uproot her heart, but that kill... Her kill, was an experience that would satiate me for a lifetime.