RAINER
Mama said there’s no such thing as hope. Only the next threat to navigate in the endless trial of survival that is life in this hellish landscape. If you give in to the notion of hope, you die because hope makes you blind.
My feet slide on the damp grass as I try to round the tombstone quickly. It leaves me scrambling for purchase as I slam my back against it. The screech of the beast shakes my bones, and I press my back harder against the stone, trying to make myself as small as possible.
Another roar covers the cracking of stone. It lands just beyond my feet, and I pull them in closer. Fuck.
There are two safe places in the world, places where the murderous beasts don’t go—libraries and cemeteries. Apparently, this beast didn’t get the memo because it’s chasing me through the massive graveyard.
This one has been terrorizing human colonies for ages. Maybe not this specific one, but one just like him. It’s as big as asmall house, and while a house of only a few hundred square feet might feel small, that makes amassivebeast with deadly claws and teeth the size of my hand.
I nearly scream when something slams through the tombstone I’m sitting against, barely an inch from impaling my shoulder. Did I mention the poisonous quills it shoots from its tail at speeds you’ll never see coming? Yeah, there are those too.
Kaida’s guttural purr-click-growl filters through the air from a distance. The beast stops moving to listen. It can probably hear my heart racing.
A low snarl makes me shiver as the beast turns its attention to Kaida.
Please be okay,I silently send into the universe.
I like to pretend that I adopted Kaida, but in reality, she adopted me. Shortly after my parents were killed by monsters, Kaida showed up. She’s this strange mix of dog, deer, and… bird? I want to say reptile because I swear I’ve seen scales and her tongue is strangely long, but she has feathers, too.
Kaida is a beast all her own, but she’s not as big as a house. She’s friendly, protective, and interestingly intelligent. Even though she can’t speak, I’m confident she understands exactly what I say.
As the quilled assassin beast follows Kaida’s sounds, I catch my breath and watch for it. Only a minute passes before I begin to see its large, lumbering shape making its way almost soundlessly through the maze of graves.
Something that big shouldn’t be graceful. When you look at it, you think big and stupid. Slow. Cumbersome.
Thinking any of those things can lead to your death. These beasts are fucking smart. Quick and agile and as light as a damn house cat. Even that long, thick tail skillfully avoids touching the graves it passes.
Kaida’s quiet clicking growl continues to lead it away. If I could count the number of times Kaida has saved my life, it’s more than the years I am old.
Able to breathe again, I poise myself to take off as the quill beast moves away. Where am I going to go, though? If it came into the cemetery, is the nearby library still a safe space? Will it breach those walls?
I don’t have a choice. I need to move. I can’t stay here and wait for it to come back this way when it doesn’t find Kaida. Right now, the library is the only place I can think of that promises some semblance of safety. Whether the quill beast gets the memo or not is another story.
As silently as I can, I sprint in the direction of the library, keeping to the grass as much as possible to keep my footfalls silent. I’m moving in the opposite direction as the beast, hoping that will keep me from its peripheral vision.
It works for a short time. I’m alternating between sprinting when I think the ground can absorb the sounds of my feet slamming into it and slowing down over what appears to be a louder surface. The intermittent pace allows me to catch my breath a little as I nurse the ache growing in my side.
I hate running. I’m convinced that whoever enjoys it is a masochist.
There’s no vocal indication that the beast has realized I’m heading in the opposite direction. No growl or roar or charging. It comes by way of a quill embedding itself in my ankle followed by a hunk of tombstone flying through the air and slamming into a tall stone pillar where it explodes. Shrapnel rains around me, ranging in size from that of my fist to the size of my fingernail.
That stone would have hit me if the quill in my ankle hadn’t made me careen over. The pain from it is instant and intense. A sick feeling overtakes me, and I break out into a sweat as bile rises in my throat and coats my mouth.
Fuck. Of course the quills are poisonous. Why wouldn’t they be? What other advantages does this fucking beast need to survive in the world?
I hear it coming toward me, though it’s not moving quickly. The predator knows it has me. It knows that I’m dead if it lands a hit.
I shuffle behind a tall grave and look at where this damn thing is sticking out of my ankle. It’s far bigger than a quill has any business being, but then again, this isn’t from a porcupine. This is from a monster, so proportionately, this makes sense. It’s the size of my damn forearm. The end that impaled my ankle comes to a sharp point, but the other side is as thick as my wrist.
Do I pull it out? Will that make the poison rush through me quicker?
Doesn’t matter. While I doubt I’m going to live more than the day with this poison inside me, I sure as fuck won’t be sitting here and letting that thing eat me. Not today.
Bracing myself with my back pressed harshly against the stone behind me, I grip the quill with both hands. My chest heaves as I prepare for fucking pain. One. Two. Three.
I yank it up, and… That was anticlimactic. I suppose when it feels like your nerve endings are on fire and your muscles are being eaten in real time, a little added pain from the removal of a projectile is nothing more than a splinter.
