"Don't be fooled," Mourning Crow bounced at my side. "It is mortal. We can kill it."

Wet sheets of black slime slid off the strange figure, leaving behind a glossy white bipedal form glistening like a freshly emerged pupa before its carapace hardened. It resembled a defenseless human male, but every inch of the creature secreted danger.

I straightened my rip-claw daggers and clashed blades with a growl of confirmation. Then I sprinted left, letting Mourning Crow flank from the right.

The faceless Graven extended its arms, arching them over its head into a sacred point. Six additional arms split from its torso and cascaded into an eerily pious formation. Then the creature spun and contorted its limbs while simultaneously compelling the ravaged terrain to submit to its dominion.

The Graven levitated in the air, pulling shards of stone from the earth as the ground crumbled apart and geysers sprang up everywhere. Suddenly, the creature and the entire glade came unhinged from gravity.

None of this insanity phased Mourning Crow. She bounded up the floating rubble with zero hesitation.

How is she fairing without a helmet?

The noxious miasma spewing from the geysers saturated the air, yet Mourning Crow's movements displayed no hint of discomfort.

Maybe she was accustomed to combat in extremely toxic environments, or perhaps this was just another oddity specific to her species?

The aerial battlefield was in a state of constant flux.

Debris tumbled and torpedoed in every direction, with the Graven acting as the celestial dancing nucleus. Its series of stances was reminiscent of the ancient carvings depicting old Zhaguai gods that some of the other clans continue to honor. But unlike the revered Zhaguai gods, this Graven had no intention of fighting ethically.

Mourning Crow made no objection to my presence during her hunt and even embraced my arsenal into her tactics.

Suddenly, a faint surge of ire flared in my chest as a drop of warm blood trickled down my shoulder.

Severing a Zhagaui's quill was a serious violation, especially from behind and at a distance.

Our quills were prehensile flesh and blood appendages. Few of my kin would have been so quick to see beyond her insult. But as many of my rivals have made it their mission to point out, I am abnormal.

Why strain yourself when you can wield the weight and power of bigger opponents against one another?

Mourning Crow's strategy was one I was very familiar with and had served me well throughout my training as a tail-wagging pup. For cycles, I may have been small for my age, but I trained five times harder and I always emerged the winner.

Nevertheless, that voice of hers could have gotten my attention with a tad less bloodshed. The beetles weren't particularly intelligent, but there was a fair argument for not spelling out the plan within earshot of our enemies.

As if attuned to my thoughts, Mourning Crow's manic laughter pulled my attention up. She had her chain sickle out and was gaining momentum while maneuvering through an actively hostile obstacle course.

She's unstoppable!

Stones drifted and spun just enough to provide unstable footing while the Graven continued dancing and circulating its unnatural barrier.

No matter how close Mourning Crow would get, there was always some impediment swooping in and deflecting her attacks.

Yet her assaults persisted. Again and again, the mad rabbit was relentless!

Her tenacity was breathtaking. The two of us were over a hundred feet in the air fighting a powerful telekinetic being that more primitive Zhaguai might have mistaken as godly.

To be honest, I couldn't help feeling a twinge of blasphemy. Had I discovered this creature alone, I wasn't certain that I would have possessed Mourning Crow's clarity.

The Graven would be her kill!

From the beginning, I had every intention of respecting her battle. My interests were primary reconnaissance and observation.

Though, I may have been a little overzealous in the wake of the goat culling.

I knew the battle with the Graven was far from over, but it was the perfect opportunity to verify Mourning Crow's resilience personally, in case she perished before the end of this long battle.

Experiencing that kick was a reward all on its own. Up and over my dagger, while still packing the power to throw me down!

Regardless of the Graven, which was still a very real hazard to my people, fighting alongside Mourning Crow was an honor I would savor more than any victory.

According to the law, simply brawling with her was no longer an option.

She had proven her prowess as a warrior and was worthy of my respect. In this fight, I would be her ally and do everything in my power to assure her a fair battleground. Only after resting and being fully prepared, could I defeat her in an honorable duel.

My weapons and armor were resistant to all corrosives and, according to my scans, the geysers' acid was well within tolerable margins. I doubted the same was true for Mourning Crow's light leather attire.

Her jacket appeared waterproof, but I was in a far superior position to remedy the unstable landscape.

I launched a small grappling tether to a large boulder and pulled myself into the center while keeping watch on the gyrating Graven. I waited for its posture to shift, then spotted a distant geyser rumbling toward Mourning Crow.

There!

I tossed my final grenade behind my shoulder and pushed off with the explosion. The boulder rolled under Mourning Crow and clacked into a cluster of rubble, blocking the newly sprouted geyser and releasing a wave of rocks to clear her path.

Mourning Crow darted in on the Graven's right, her ears up, forward facing, and razor sharp. I sent in my seeker drone and had it slice off one of the Graven's lower arms.

The abomination spasmed and spun to me, contorting its remaining limbs into the formation of a blooming lotus.

That's when Mourning Crow's sickle whistled in, chomping deep into the Graven's spine and pulling the monster closer. I leapt and targeted my Stone-maker glove.

The monstrosity would evade her blade no longer!

The mad rabbit crouched on the Graven's pale shoulders, dragging her hooked sickle up through what should have been ribs.

The thing convulsed and screeched from no visible orifice. She broke its thrashing limbs one by one and coiled her chain three times around the Graven's neck.

Delighted by her proficiency, I stayed on task, punching and kicking off any incoming asteroids. But the Graven had more tricks.

The dust leftover from my smashing swirled into a swarm. A flamethrower or heavy plasma blazer might have worked, but those were strictly military armaments.

I fired grappling tether and snared a nearby chunk, then heaved it at the dust. But the tiny fragments split up and swerved around it.

"Move!" I shouted.

Mourning Crow's response was instantaneous.

She sprang from the translucent-skinned beast and serpentined out of danger. But the Graven was ready. Another geyser broke loose and blocked her path. I tried hurling in another stone, but three more large rocks were already closing in around her.

She was pinned!

The Graven had righted itself and was in the process of regenerating its limbs.

"Not for you!" I roared, smashing through boulders as I lobbed all five hundred pounds of myself directly onto the Graven.

I drove my rip-claw daggers deep into its sides, slicing wildly through viscera. IT didn't have a spine or skeleton, but the innards were squishy and that was plenty to compel my stabbing.

But this wasn't blind rage. I knew better. This was a misdirection and a facet of my methodology my rivals loathed most about me.

Humiliation is temporary. Victory is eternal!

I gave the Graven my hate.

Why not? It's always there, patient and simmering.

It heard me roar and felt my claws, but it didn't see me hook my grappling tether between my scorch-pike and the pre-programmed seeker drone before tossing them back behind me.

The Graven hissed and clawed at my face and shoulders, unable to claim a firm grip on me.

I whittled down its limbs and rammed my helm into its white gossamer face, crumpling into a wide pasty dent. It didn't matter, all of my attacks were trivial. The creature's face buckled back into place each time my head pulled away.

I chittered my fangs with laughter, as a long-dormant, but never forgotten memory bubbled in my mind.

Two of my dormitory brothers, much larger than me when we were all tail-wriggling pups, pinned me between their bellies and made a game out of plucking out my cranial quills because they deemed them too wispy.

I was still small and not strong enough at the time to correct their dishonor, but I gained a valuable lesson about the weakness of overconfidence.

Falling to one's knees is always an option and back then, my brothers were all too happy to laugh and kick me repeatedly.

But pride made them oblivious, just like this Graven.

It controlled every dead thing floating around in its orbit, but not our choices. My brothers never saw my teeth coming when I ripped out their Achilles tendons. Just as the Graven was unaware of the monitor in my helmet, confirming that my seeker drone had successfully pried Mourning Crow free with my tethered scorch-pike.

Clink

I leaped up, making way for Mourning Crow's chain sickle.

It hooked around behind the Graven's throat and with a curt snap of her wrist; the weapon snapped shut, decapitating the beast with a quick sharp tug.

I bounded around the still-drifting body and roared in triumph as the severed head tumbled down.

Mourning Crow closed in on the creature's lifeless body to perform a due-diligence bisection, causing the pale carcass to lose buoyancy.

My blood surged with ecstasy as the Graven's detached head fell through the air. Bones or no bones, we were victorious!

Then, in a strange slow-motion moment, a peculiar clear tube extended from the Graven's open neck cavity. Something like an elongated proboscis shot out at my left finger. It touched me for only a fraction of a second before I chopped it away with my dagger on instinct.

A heavy, caustic sensation pulsed in my stomach when I spotted a droplet of my blue blood glisten from within the other side of the severed tube.

There was a tiny cylindrical nub of tubing still stuck to my hand. After flicking it off, I was struck by an intense, tight burning sensation. It was more painful and spread quicker than U'la'ke venom.

Mourning Crow's warning about the Graven's contagion roiled through my thoughts.

...break you down and steal all that you love.

No. I surveyed my finger and double-checked my snipped quill. None of the Graven's blood had entered my body.

It was the Graven who had stolen mine!

But where a mosquito would have the courtesy to numb its victim's bite, the Graven's saliva was highly corrosive and simply fizzed and swelled into a frothy white foam that possessed the chemical composition to eradicate all traces of its intended meal.

The acid set in quickly and my bones felt mushy. There wasn't time to jump to safer ground.

I had to unlock my gauntlet, let it drop, and cut off my left forearm at the elbow. My long quills coiled tight as I let out a measured growl. The pain decreased but hadn't departed. Fortunately, my flesh was no longer bubbling.

Still, I was dizzy and my pulse raced.

Losing a limb shouldn't do this.

I fumbled for my medkit but lost my footing on a still-floating boulder.

Shit. If the Graven is dead, shouldn't everything be falling?

Mourning Crow swooped in under my right arm a second later, stopping my descent while propping me and my dignity upright. Her demeanor shifted into tender.

She hauled me to the outer rim of the glade, right back to the original stone outcropped we had first arrived on. Then she followed my shaky pointing to my medkit and a bright orange syringe, handed it to me, and I plunged it in. Yet the compound did nothing!

"Here," Mourning Crow produced a small vial containing a pale pink ooze and spilled the contents over my wound.

The pain subsided, like a chemical burn being neutralized.

"What was that?" My voice was more growl than words.

Mourning Crow didn't respond. Instead, she removed her spotted seal skin jacket and draped it tenderly over my amputated arm, careful not to touch the exposed opening with her skin. Then she pushed my head down to make me stretch out flat while she knotted the sleeves of her coat into a waterproof bandage.

I couldn't pinpoint why, but the low, wide, open-forward curve of her ears was unsettling.

What the fuck was happening?

One second she's laughing like a psychopath and the next she's swaddling me like a newborn.

Her attire under the hooded jacket was unexpected.

Her shoulders were wrapped in an austere grey leather harness. There was nothing on her naked chest and midriff. Only iridescent white scaled-skin, small nippleless breasts, and a ripple of sleek abdominal muscles. The pants remained, but I could glimpse a matching pair of grey under-straps poking out from below her speckled leather waistline.

It made sense. Humans colonized this planet. That weird spotted outfit was her human costume.

There was a little curved chunk of insect carapace cupped over her shoulder.

A hidden snack?

Mourning Crow plucked off the slick white carapace and placed it over her forehead. The ivory dome made a soft compression hiss, then expanded over her eyes and extended a series of interlocking exoskeleton segments up over the top of her ears.

It was armor, specifically a helmet custom-built for her species.

Why didn't she use it earlier?

The Graven shrieked from the center of the glade. Its revolting insect body had finished regenerating.

Mourning Crow stood up, cocking her ears up, back, tight, and sharp. She unbuckled her pants and slid them off along with her shoes, exposing four little white-clawed toes, a pair of skin-tight leather shorts, and a lightweight utility pack strapped to her upper back. She dropped her machete and unbuckled the tiny back harness.

This was Mourning Crow unfettered and raw.

I would have preferred experiencing this state with her facing me to the death, but it was an honor to bear witness to the comportment at all.

Mourning Crow sprinted off to the Graven standing in the middle of the glade. The monster stopped floating and instead perched on top of the crooked church.

Mourning Crow moved differently, no longer and agile little rabbit. She was a razor-sharp predator, streamlined, methodical, and closing in hot on her target.

The Graven lunged with its multiple arms, making a pathetic attempt to engage with Mourning Crow in hand-to-hand combat. It tried summoning stones down at her from overhead, but the woman kept her body tucked in tightly next to the Graven.

She moved with the speed and serenity of an Ancient Warguard, attacking with the effortless calm that only comes from centuries of combat.

The Graven may have masqueraded as godly, but it was Mourning Crow who was the true embodiment of tangible power.

Mourning Crow sidestepped and turned her back on the Graven. With those ears, it was irrelevant which direction she was facing. Her chain sickle deferred to her flow, soaring behind the creature and clamped firmly around its waist as though it were a prehensile tail.

Mourning Crow continued spinning and cleaved the Graven in two. Then she came around to face the beast before gravity gained the opportunity to pull the upper half of its torso down. Her fist dove up into the cavity and ripped out a black fizzy beating heart.

The sheer display of dominance pulsed a chill through my scales and made my short quills tingle.

With the organ still gripped tightly in her hand, Mourning Crow slammed her fist repeatedly into the Graven's sternum. Punching over and over, pummeling fist, organ, and torso directly into the ground.

The Graven's nasty black blood sprayed up all over Mourning Crow's face and exposed teeth.

"Of course..." I zoomed in with my helmet's camera on the splatters seeping beyond her lips.

Mourning Crow lurched her body upright just as the rocks floating overhead began to fall and shatter on the ground. She didn't roar and stood over her kill in silence.

The Graven's black blood began to wiggle and squirm as it abandoned the dead body for Mourning Crow's live one. Its angry black slime stretched and sloshed its sticky mass up Mourning Crow's legs and chest, forcing its way into every orifice.

I growled that she didn't resist, but I knew the reason.

She was already infected.

This wasn't a hunt, it was deliverance.

She invited me along to witness and heed the dangers of the Graven.

Once the Graven blood finished settling into its new residence, Mourning Crow pulled her sickle to her palm. In one quick flick, she gouged the hooked blade deep into her forearms to open a wide gash and let all the blood drain out.

"No," I growled and tried to sit up, but I was woozy from whatever toxicity had invaded my body.

Black and pale pink ooze spilled out across the church top, with the black muck flailing to find sanctuary and her pale pink blood slipping off and away. A moment later, Mourning Crow collapsed to her knees, tumbled over, and laid down cold and lifeless.

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Translations:

Terms & Translations:

U'la'ke = alien cat species that are mortal enemies of the Zhaguai that have stinger tails with paralytic venom. Known as "The Felija" to humans. They live in large Prides. Lieges are the biggest, both sexes, have large manes, and thirteen tails

The Dread - An annual solo combat rite - first Dread involves a zhaguai cutting off its tail after presenting their kill. Marks adulthood and clan marking is permanently inlaid in metal onto their face.

Touch-quills = Zhaguai short quills on sides of face. Three on each side. (6 total)

Long quills = Zhaguai basic head quills, can be long or short, thin or thick

Short quill = Zhaguai nubby body quills

Stone-maker Glove - non-lethal weapon that petrifies organic matter

Zhaguai = Reptilian warrior species with horns and long wriggling quills instead of hair

Razkur = A pale, formally subterranean species with long ears, and pale pupiless eyes.

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Author's Note:

First thing, this is not the end! The story is far from over. There's more, I promise.

Thank you for reading. If you're enjoying please remember to click the ⭐star⭐to vote and help others discover this book. Wattpad counts votes for each chapter. And as always, comments are most appreciated.

~A. E. Shelly (a.k.a. Oloo)