Torches

Noks flung herself from the deadly blast of light and scampered up a large fir tree.  The brave blood-born screamed and ran back to her people.    

She is out of control. You must destroy her.  Her mentor advised.  He was the oldest in the group and like the rest he was bound to one of the noisy parasites marching through the snow below.   Nosk felt a stab of pity.  The woman did not seem as bad as the rest.  She was curious and did not take more than she needed.

What was more, she had done something Noks had not seen in a millennia. 

She could hear me.  Noks said. Her mentor frowned and shook his head.

No, she heard the wind.

She might be like the blood-born of old.  Noks squinted and tried to find her charge amid the glare of the torches.  The ones who walked on both sides of the night. 

Those days are long over, Her mentor’s shoulders shook with laughter as they drifted forward, pulled by their bond with the blood-born. 

Kill her and be done with it.  Her mentor looked at the blood-born in disgust.  More will appear in the spring.  There are always more.  They out strip their food supplies, foul the water, and twist the weather to suit their needs. 

Noks could not deny the toll the blood-born took upon the land.  Even now this party marched into one of the incubators of their kind with the express purpose of ending the snowy weather.  She watched as they gathered around the slab where the first blood-born came forth.

 

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