He frowned as he approached the cave where he had left the lizards. He had hidden them well, but something else had drawn the attention of some raptors. Dozens of the lean, leathery birds had focused their attention on a different cave, and were darting in and out of the entrance. They shrieked at each other in the way they only did when they had some prey to torment.
Taimin knew he had to be careful. If he couldn’t clear the raptors, he wouldn’t be able to fetch the lizards; the raptors would smell the meat and undoubtedly attack him.
Raptors didn’t like darkness and they took turns plunging into the cave. They were small compared to wyverns, but they could still be deadly as a group. Their crimson eyes glared and leather gullets twitched as they shrieked. Blood stained their hooked beaks.
Taimin reached for an arrow from the bundle strapped against the side of his pack. He kept a wary eye on the raptors and when a bird came screeching toward him he let an arrow fly. The raptor spun several times in the air as his shot took it clean through the wing.
He retrieved his arrow and continued to watch the raptors dart in and out of the dark opening. More of them had blood on their beaks or talons. Whatever they had found, he soon wouldn’t be able to scare them away before hunger drove them mad.
He shot at another raptor and cursed when his arrow lodged in its body and the bird fled, wounded yet taking his arrow with it. He decided to forgo the bow for his sword and crouched to make the exchange. With the wooden grip in his hands, he neared the mouth of the cave. If he could find out what was attracting the raptors, he might be able to drive them off.
He batted away several of the birds. They became wary of his sword and regrouped to hover in the air, wings flapping as they cawed in frustration. He stood just inside the cave’s entrance, knowing he would be outlined in Dex’s bright light but risking exposure to give his eyes time to adjust. He heard the flutter of wings just behind his head and cut at the air to strike a screeching bird and cause the rest to scatter. Still unable to see what was inside the cave, he entered.
There were hundreds of caves set into the cliffs and this one had the jagged walls and graveled floor he had seen before. He walked forward cautiously but shot a glance over his shoulder when he heard shrieking. At the mouth of the cave the raptors were screeching, trying to summon the courage to enter and attack.
Then Taimin heard a different sound, somewhere between a growl and a whimper. It was accompanied by a scuffle.
He moved deeper into the cave, sword held out in front of him. Hidden by shadows, a large shape twisted and growled at his approach, causing him to raise his sword, but then the shape gave a sorrowful whine. Taimin moved to allow light to pass his body. His eyes widened.
He was looking at a wherry—a male—with the typical strong legs, soft, wrinkled skin, and floppy ears. The raptors must have hounded him, forcing him into the cave, where he had obviously been penned for a long time. Taimin’s heart went out to him; the wherry was young and would have been frightened as more raptors joined in and braved the darkness to peck at his soft spots.
The animal was in a bad state. Blood ran in rivulets down his leathery hide, contrasting with his sandy color, and as Taimin came closer the wherry looked up at him with pitiful eyes framed by long eyelashes.
If the wherry ever underwent metamorphosis and became a wyvern, his floppy ears would straighten. The jutting ridges at his shoulders would erupt into wings, and his legs would become smaller. But given his size, Taimin wondered if he was a runt, one of those that never changed, spending their entire lives in wherry form.
Taimin glanced back at the mouth of the cave. It was late in the day and he knew he shouldn’t stay out much longer. He wanted to help, but he also knew that the wherry was a dangerous creature. The animal was obviously exhausted and starved. But he weighed perhaps five times what Taimin did, and his teeth and claws were sharp.
“Shh.” Taimin made soft sounds as he approached, but he wasn’t taking any chances and still held on to his sword. The wherry tried to snarl but it finished in a whimper. Taimin saw peck marks on his belly, neck, and beside one of his drooping ears. The blood attracted flies, and Taimin waved them off, relieved when the motion didn’t enrage the animal.
Deciding to take a risk, Taimin leaned down and laid a palm on the wherry’s neck; the creature stirred but didn’t have the strength to fight. Making low tones of encouragement, Taimin held his breath as he put down his sword and continued to hold a soothing hand against the animal’s skin. The wherry lowered his head to the ground, and Taimin became more confident.
Taimin watched the wherry’s sad eyes as he slipped his pack off his shoulder. He froze as he saw a hind leg twitch, but it was just the creature stretching. He grabbed his water flask and poured some water into his cupped hands. Trying not to show his fear, he brought his hands close to the wherry’s strong jaws. A moment later the wherry was lapping from his hands, his tongue gliding over Taimin’s palms to get to every last drop.
Taimin glanced at the cave’s mouth and breathed a sigh of relief. The raptors had given up. The wherry gave another whimper.
“Wait here,” Taimin murmured. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
As Taimin left the cave, he saw the exhausted wherry follow him with his eyes. He already felt responsible for the animal’s fate. He wanted the wherry to heal and be well. Some food would lift his spirits.
Taimin smiled.
“We’re going hunting,” Taimin called to his aunt.
Taimin held the reins as Griff trotted beside him and grinned with pent-up excitement. Abi grunted in reply, completely focused while she checked the boundary fence.
Taimin didn’t know why he had chosen the name, it just seemed to suit. Griff was too big to sleep in the house, so Taimin had built him a stable alongside the shack. Even so, Griff preferred to sleep on the threshold, much to Abi’s annoyance as she kicked him out of the doorway each morning.
“That wherry runt,” Abi called him, which was true; Griff was much smaller than the wherries that belonged to the rovers. He tired quickly with Taimin on his back and cast reproachful looks over his shoulder every time Taimin climbed up. Nonetheless, when the mood took him he could bound along with speed.
Taimin patted Griff’s flank as he and the wherry left the homestead behind. He glanced back one last time at his aunt, and with a start realized that her once-red hair was now entirely gray. When had that happened? While he had grown, Abi had seemed to shrink. She hadn’t, of course; he had just become bigger. Taimin could now best her with a blade, although she was still his superior at tracking and archery. Their relationship had changed. Abi now spent more time with her plants, while Taimin roamed the plains, hunting with Griff.
The wherry had a sixth sense for finding game, and even Taimin was surprised by how much extra meat they were able to bring home at the end of a day. Taimin still worked to keep the homestead safe and carry water from the spring, and was always exhausted by the time he went to sleep. But with a surplus of meat, and Abi bringing more vegetables to the table, he was now a few inches taller than his father had been. Abi’s constant lessons and his own exertions had given him broad shoulders and strong limbs. Dark stubble covered his cheeks.
He followed the escarpment for a time and made absent sounds of encouragement to Griff as he walked. Reaching the steep trail that led to the plain below, he began his careful descent, and with Griff far more surefooted Taimin held on to the saddle for support. The cliff cast a long shadow on the plain, but slowly the darkened swathe shrank as the golden sun climbed higher. A warm, dry wind blew against Taimin’s face and rustled his dark hair. Distant specks dotted across the terrain became cactuses and rust-colored boulders. Raptors and smaller scavenger birds hopped around on the branches of withered trees.