You can Go on Living; Humans are to Blame

The midday sun glared, bouncing off the layers of winter snow-coated ground surrounding the walled city. It stood immense in scale, with its towering stone wall surrounding the entire settlement. Amazingly, Moonlight Guardian could see structures beyond that stood even taller.

She was unused to human settlements; never before had she seen one. She had spent nearly all of her life in the Two Trees; the exception being her sojourn with the Plains tribe. Wanderlust rarely afflicts the yutsuukitsuu and Moonlight Guardian wasn’t exempt. Never had she desired to travel or adventure.

As such, the sprawling construct instilled a sense of awe. She chided herself for thinking so. Surely, this was just another human overreach. She had passed through the surrounding farmland, now mostly inactive during the winter seasons, with the human dwellings scattered about. It reminded her of the agriculture of the Plains tribe, a complete novelty at the time. To her eye, this was on a much larger scale and clearly unnatural. The Plains tribe took advantage of the naturally unoccupied land. Here, the humans had unmistakably cleared the foliage, if the distinct tree line was any indicator.

Moonlight Guardian steadied her nerves as she prepared to approach the arching stone gate. On her person she carried what few possessions she had, her sword, lute, cloak, and also some drawing supplies comprising charcoal and thin bark. Most everything else had been destroyed in the attack on the Two Trees.

It had torn her apart when she saw the ruins, spending the better part of a day wallowing in despair. But Moonlight Guardian had a strong sense of duty and, being the only remaining tribesman, it fell on her to handle the last rites of her fallen kin. Normally, the Priest would handle this, but he too was dead.

The cremations happened quickly. She created separate pyres for each member but performed them all concurrently. At some point, she had spoken to the Forest Guardian, a creature charged with protecting the forest but not necessarily the village and learned the humans had only recently departed; time was of the essence. She carried the ashes to the shrine of the God of Clear Skies, where the winds would carry them off. As for the masks, what could she do? Normally, they were delivered to the closest family member. But they were all dead. Technically, that made her the closest living family member, but that was lost on her. She was in no position to carry all the masks, anyway. Ultimately, she opted to hang them over the doors where their owners had resided. Sadly, this clarified many of the masks had gone missing, stolen most likely.

When her siblings had died, she had spent many moons wrestling with her grief and guilt, but if what the Forest Guardian said was true—she had no reason to doubt—she didn’t have that luxury this time. He had confirmed that several of the children had indeed been taken.

“What of Indigo?” She couldn’t keep from asking.

“He fought.”

“And??”

“I know nothing more.”

She had, in fact, been unable to part with Indigo’s mask, the only one she kept. Though she was unfamiliar with human psychological theory, she was stuck in the first of the five stages of grief. But technically, she hadn’t found a body. She still hoped he might have survived.

Before she left, she stopped by her den. Like many others, it was burnt out, but not completely. Much had survived in these dens; the humans hadn’t been thorough in that respect. She had little of value, at least not sentimental value; she had brought her lute along with her on her sojourn. This visit wasn’t sentimental. She was looking for something specific. Luckily, she always kept it buried and a quick search uncovered what she was looking for, charcoal and drawing bark.

She wouldn’t know the saying “a picture is worth a thousand words”, but something analogous came to mind. If she couldn’t exchange thoughts with these humans, perhaps a picture would suffice.

After reflecting on what she needed to do, she approached the gate. Why had the humans put such effort into shaping every stone into a square shape? Seemed like a waste to her. The guard occupied a short passageway with pointy grates hanging on either side, but no barrier to Moonlight Guardian’s surprise. Humans. She had never interacted with humans—at least not diplomatically—but she would keep things civil if possible. Not that she opposed carving a swath through them if she thought it would get the children back, but Moonlight Guardian wasn’t quite that foolish. If it was a smaller settlement, she may have considered it.

Well, that had, in fact, been a part of her initial plan. Just stroll in, take the children, and cut down anyone who opposed. But with such a huge establishment, that would be impossible. She looked past the guard into the settlement proper at the endless sea of stone and wooden buildings, with roofs ranging from straw to what looked like flat rocks, as well as more people than she ever wished to encounter in a lifetime. Even if nobody stopped her, finding them would be difficult, and she doubted the humans would just let her rummage through their city. However, she had prepared.

She stopped short of the gate, enough to see a human in leather armor with a shiny breastplate slouched over in a chair, spear balance precariously on his shoulder. He appeared asleep, but he couldn’t be. That would be irresponsible, even for a human. At any rate, she needed to interact with him.

It was time to bring out those drawing supplies. Moonlight Guardian wasn’t what you would call an artist but felt she could draw well enough to convey an idea. Of course, it would take more than just an unannotated sketch to get her to her goal. Fortunately, this situation was not without precedence.

The yutsuukitsuu are not a literate race. Such things correlate with spoken language. As such, they rely on stories and “oral” tradition to convey their histories. One such story tells of a Crimson Serpent and how he would abduct children to devour. The story enumerates its eventual defeat and rescue of the children.

In particular, Moonlight Guardian was interested in the interaction between the Guardian yutsuukitsuu and the serpent. The creature could understand their telepath to a degree, but not being telepathic itself could not articulate a response. Through a series of drawings and gestures, both parties eventually came to an agreement.

The humans were less vile and perhaps of comparable intelligence to the Crimson Serpent, so Moonlight Guardian assumed they should be able to come to an understanding. Their reason for taking the children would have been helpful. Their reason for attacking the village in the first place would have been helpful, too. But she would have to initiate this negotiation without such foreknowledge.

She stepped up to the guard, who sat wide legged and slouching with the brim of his helmet sagging over his eyes. When the man didn’t respond, she tried a telepathic call for his attention. This only elicited an abrupt snore, however. Moonlight Guardian scoffed to herself before smacking his metallic breastplate.

The guard sprang to his feet, head darting while uttering some kind of grunts. When he didn’t see a source for the disturbance, his mouth drooped into a lopsided frown, and he scratched under his helm.

More strange sounds came from his moving lips. Moonlight Guardian understood this was how they communicated, but didn’t have the slightest notion of what it could mean. It was clear, however, this man was about as sharp as a spoon. She tried another telepathic call, and this time the soldier’s eyes flashed and he looked down, finally seeing the creature before him—Moonlight Guardian was close to a foot and half shorter than him.

Upon seeing her, he staggered back and stumbled over his chair; a louder series of shape sounds accompanied this display. This had been her first interaction with humans, and she was already losing her patience; these sounds were especially irritating. How did the Elder put up with it?

Regardless, the skittish guard regained his composer and stepped up to Moonlight Guardian with his hand on his hips in a feeble attempt to project authority as if the previous display had never happened. In a lower register, he issued another series of undulating noises, after which he pursed his lips, extenuating the upward tilt of his mustache.

…Was he expecting a response? She tried sending more of those telepathic communications, but this did not elicit any sensible reaction. Instead, he shifted his face into a series of unreadable facial expression. In the story of the Crimson Serpent, the creature understood their telepathy, but Moonlight Guardian now suspected this guy did not.

After glaring through narrowed eyes failed to elicit a response, he lifted his helm and massage his forehead with an aggrieved sigh. Was he getting angry? If anyone should grow angry, it should be her!

She scratched her head and found her hood was still up. It was winter and the open fields had been breezy, so of course her hood was up. It made sense now. This dim-witted guy thought he was dealing with a human. Sure, a hood and mask hid her head and face, but he should still know better.

He lurched away when she pulled back her hood, raising a protective arm across his chest. That sour lip curl was now replaced with bulging eyes. How undignified, she thought. He turned his head and let out a sound like a grelmhiem war cry.

It was her turn to take a step back, and she reached for her sword. However, once the guard turned back to her with clasped hands and an uneasy smile, she relaxed. Again he let out a string of dissonant sounds like clumsy plucking on a mis-tuned lute. After another confused tilt of her ears did, it finally dawn on the dullard that she couldn’t understand his bizarre communications. He looked away, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

After a moment of awkward silence—for him, anyway—another man stomped over. He was a big man with a barrel chest, also wearing armor and conspicuously demonstrating his frown. But that changed once he glanced at the yutsuukitsuu standing at the gate, and his posture straightened.

Despite the cold, a glaze of sweet seeped in around his brows. He and the other guy hissed a few sounds while making inordinately large gesticulations, often pointing in her direction. The trepid gate guard shrank back as the larger man hissed him into submission and Moonlight Guardian decided the larger guy was probably the leader—the Elder had once mentioned that humans like their leaders. After the exchange, the leader let out a sigh and approached her.

He squatted down to her level, his wide breastplate blocking out the other human, and blowing out his bushy mustache. To her great relief, he did not start grunting at her. Instead, he pointed at her and then at the city. Afterwards, he put an exaggerated expression on his face. Confusion? What did he mean by that look?

She understood pointing, but confusion? Was he asking her a question? That had to be it! He wanted to know why she had come! This was perfect. She could finally get straight to business. She took out the drawing of the children she had drawn only moments before and pointed, tapping her finger to the soft bark.

He pushed his lips out, so they nearly touched his nose. This was a strange response, so she clarified with telepathy, and to her elation, it seemed to click for this man. But then he averted his gaze. Standing back to full height, he removed his metallic cap and began pacing while running his fingers through his cropped hair.

And he kept pacing, even to the apparent confusion of the negligent gate guard. Who knows how long this would have continued if not for the interruption of yet another human, this one in ridiculous attire, complete with garish pointed footwear threatening to curl back and poke him in the shin and headwear broad enough for the wind to carry him off.

He intoned more sounds through protruding lips while tugging at his pointed mustache. The big guy responded by gesturing to her. The flamboyant man glanced and when he saw the white fox, what started out as a casual head turn became a full-blown fit of hysteria. Holding tight to his oversized headwear, he began screeching like a wounded animal. Within moments, numerous soldiers, clad in the same leather armor and metallic breast plate, appeared wielding spears.

The situation had turned. Unlike the first two she had encountered, these warriors were certainly hostile. Moonlight Guardian felt her blood fire. She was ready to go. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword.

But was this wise? She was the children’s only hope and there was no telling the skill of her opponents. Furthermore, killing these soldiers would not bring her any closer to her goal. It was a gainless risk.

Though she wasn’t the kind to be ashamed of retreating, forcing down her anger was difficult, and she was keenly aware of the freezing sweat on the soles of her feet as she stormed away.