Against the Wind

2.1 || Raya

No-one could conclusively decide on a term for the humanoid monsters that lived in the outlawed patches of the desert, far outside the city's haven. Feralite was the word most commonly hissed, clicked out in harsh whispers and coupled with the murky swirl of fear and hatred. Hybrid was perhaps the most accurate term; their features were an unpredictable concoction of ordinary and strange, human and beast, though no exact pattern could be drawn from the few sightings Raya's people had recorded of them. Beastfolk was the word she herself chose. It felt tamer than Feralite, heavier than hybrid. It conjured the image of someone almost a person but not quite.

It didn't matter what they were called, in the end. The thought of them oozed with danger. Very few escaped an encounter with one of the beastfolk and lived, not without an organised hunting party and honed, magical skill.

Raya had neither of those. She should run, yet her feet fastened themselves to the hard sand, her legs quivering yet stuck.

The boy laid before her didn't look dangerous.

He was, without doubt, not human. His skin was fair in a way that only existed in lands far from Tehazibith, places only drawn from myth, though more lightly browned than the milky white she'd seen was possible in those old legends. His hair was whiter. It fell in long, drooping bangs that stuck to his cheeks in a matted mix of sweat and blood, coloured a starchy, bleached yellow in the places blood didn't stain it. But the most startling feature was the jagged pair of antlers that sprouted from within that mess of hair, stuck out at jagged angles and sharp at their tips.

The single, long sheet of cloth thrown over his body was red, making it difficult to tell just how many wounds he bled from. It seemed as if the crimson was everywhere, pooling in the sand, rivulets trickling lazily towards her. She watched them soak in, her stomach giving a sour squeeze like a sponge wringing out.

"Hello?" she whispered.

Her voice emerged as hardly a breath, but it still made her cringe. She felt stupid. The quiet always made her voice sound stupid, but softly greeting a supposed creature of doom and destruction couldn't have been anyone's idea of wise.

It didn't particularly matter regardless. The guard was too far away and preoccupied to hear her, and the beastfolk boy didn't stir. The only sign of life left in him at all was the irregular drag of air rasping in and out of his lungs. His blood gleamed bright in the sun, a claggy mirage settling atop it that vaguely reflected a burning ball of yellow.

Raya was sure she was moving in a dream. She edged around the spreading pool, then sunk into a crouch beside his head. He didn't so much as twitch. His face was angular, but youthful, visible in the smoothness of his skin. Eighteen, maybe seventeen. A couple years younger than she was. If that was how hybrid ageing worked.

The silence felt predatory.

She cast a nervous glance around, hands caught in constant motion as they tapped at her thigh, her knee, the waiting air itself. Those clawed hands she'd seen flickered in the back of her mind, and fear sank rows of little teeth into the back of her neck. Did the beastfolk fight one another? Were they truly that uncivilised, that devoid of self-control and blind with aggression? But if so, why come so close to the city's borders to do so, and why leave one of their own behind?

Unless a mage had done this. But a mage would have finished the job.

Which was exactly what Raya should be doing, right now.

There shouldn't even be much to think about. Breathing shallowly, she reached for her pouch, her fingers jittering so much she could hardly flick it open. The dust shied away from her touch, sensing her fear, her hesitance, the swirling storm of doubt that swept through her in shivering cascades.