Chapter 8: A Miracle Called Fire

Watching the backs of the five departing elders, Seraya raised a hand and flipped them off without the slightest hesitation. Her mouth twisted into an irritated scowl, a venomous mutter slipping through clenched teeth:

"Go to hell, old hags. Looking down your noses like that will come back to bite you."

Standing nearby, Niva's mother glanced craftily after the elders before resting a hand on Seraya's shoulder. She looked genuinely worried, as if fearing the foreign warrior might chase after the seniors and settle the argument with her fists.

"Warrior, please, do not be so angry with them. They have their reasons for acting this way."

Seraya turned her head toward her in disbelief.

"Reasons? What damn reasons?!" She spread her hands in exasperation. "Did all five sync up their periods or something? I didn't even know them! I show up, and they immediately feed me to the fucking cats!"

The woman sighed heavily and lowered her voice.

"In their youth, they were the strongest warriors of our tribe. For years, they defended the valley and hunted our food. The people still respect them and obey their word. And then you appeared... an outsider who slays giant serpents and calms wild beasts."

Seraya frowned, still not seeing where she was going with this.

Niva's mother glanced toward the caves, where the silhouettes of the elders were fading into the shadows.

"Think of an aging alpha of a wolf pack. Would she look calmly upon a young she-wolf when all the others suddenly turn their eyes to her?"

Seraya paused, struck dumb for a moment.

So that was it?

Those old hags really thought she came here to usurp their power?!

"I didn't even think of anything like that!" she blurted out. "I just want a safe patch of ground so the cannibals from the Obsidian Maw don't make dinner out of me! I couldn't care less about their thrones or their damn council!"

Niva stepped closer and took her hand. Her white rabbit ears twitched, a gentle, steady resolve settling over her features.

"Warrior, think no more of it. You saved me. My mothers and I will help you stay here."

Without waiting for an answer, she led Seraya toward one of the caves. Her bushy snow-fox tail swayed with every stride, brushing against her leather loincloth.

Seraya allowed herself to be guided along, casting one last irritated glance after the elders. Then she blew out a breath through her nose and shook her head.

Whatever. To hell with them.

She was on her own, without a home, property, or a family she had to drag behind her. If those old hags really started making her life miserable, she would just dust herself off and move on.

The world didn't end at this one valley, after all!

The Obsidian Maw couldn't be everywhere either.

They were just a pack of cannibals, not omniscient goddesses!

Running those reassuring thoughts through her head, Seraya felt her mood lift slightly. At least for tonight, she had a place to rest her head.

The moment she crossed the mouth of the cave, however, every drop of relief lodged in her throat.

A heavy, suffocating stench hit her nostrils.

Damp hides, rotting grass, sweat, and something else - sour and musty, reminiscent of an untended barn.

Seraya wrinkled her nose on reflex, her stomach lurching.

Holy shit... Do they really sleep in here?

The interior drowned in near-total darkness. The lingering evening light reached only a few paces past the entrance; beyond that, everything blurred into murky black shapes.

Only after a moment did Seraya spot a natural cleft high in the ceiling, through which a pale beam of moonlight filtered down.

It was just enough to keep from breaking her nose on the nearest rocky outcrop.

Still, the cave itself was surprisingly spacious. The seventeen dwellers belonged to four families, each claiming their own section along the wall.

Irregular paths ran between the bedrolls, cluttered here and there with bones, hides, and bundles of dried plants.

Niva led her deeper, toward an alcove along the southeastern wall. Three beds of dried grass and pelts lay on the ground - two larger ones, and a distinctly smaller bedroll neatly tucked to the side.

Seraya glanced at the petite girl, then at the smallest bed.

"Sister, is that little one yours?"

Niva stopped in her tracks.

The cheer drained from her face so fast that Seraya felt an immediate pang of guilt beneath her ribs. The girl's white ears drooped, her fingers tightening around the bundle of meat.

"That was my younger sister's bed," she said quietly. "A month ago, the Obsidian Maw warriors took her. They fed her to the serpent..."

The fox girl trailed off, bowing her head.

One of her mothers approached from behind, resting a hand on her shoulder. For a moment, both stood in silence, looking at the small, empty bed.

Seraya felt all her earlier irritation vanish.

Great. I just had to open my big mouth.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know."

Niva shook her head to signal it was all right. After a moment, she looked up and managed a faint smile.

"Sit here, warrior."

She guided Seraya toward one of the larger beds. Seraya sank onto the dry grass with a heavy sigh, relieved that her aching legs no longer had to carry her weight.

Sitting down so fast twisted her collar, so she pulled it straight on reflex before carefully stretching out her knees.

Only now, with the running and fighting behind her, did everything begin to ache.

Niva took the leaf-wrapped heart and set it beside the rest of the meat. Seraya wrinkled her nose, trying to adjust to the stifling odor.

She wasn't having much luck.

"Sister..." she began cautiously. "Doesn't the smell bother you? Wouldn't it help to clean up a bit in here?"

Niva looked around their corner of the cave, surprised by the question.

"Is it that bad?" she asked hesitantly. "We've always lived like this. Only the caves of the elders, the shaman, and the chieftain get cleaned every day."

Seraya raised an eyebrow.

Of course.

The old hags got clean quarters while the rest rotted on stale grass.

"Right, I meant to ask. What do they actually do all day? Do they hunt with you?" She glanced toward the entrance, then added: "And who are this shaman and chieftain? So far I've only seen those five shouting biddies."

Niva sat beside her, tucking her legs beneath her.

"Our chieftain is Maerra. She is old and rarely comes out these days, so the elders handle most affairs. Each has her own cave. They no longer have to hunt."

Seraya rested her hands on her thighs, listening with dark interest.

"And the shaman?"

"Vaelira. She tends to us when we fall sick or return wounded. She knows the plants and how to restore one's strength."

The girl spoke of her with clear reverence. After a moment, she pointed to the meat lying nearby and continued:

"When we bring in a kill, the heart goes to the hunter. Then the best cuts are set aside for Maerra, Vaelira, and the five elders. Only the rest is shared among the others in the tribe."

Seraya immediately recalled the seven equal portions.

"So those two extra portions were for the chieftain and the shaman?"

Niva nodded.

"Yes."

"Nice... Seven people living comfortable off everyone else's back," Seraya muttered, twisting her mouth. "Hell of a racket."

Niva shook her head at once.

"You shouldn't say that. Maerra is our chieftain. Vaelira heals us. And the elders fought for the tribe for years. They earned respect."

Seraya scoffed under her breath, but had no desire to start another argument. She leaned back, bracing her hands on the bedding.

"Fine, but what does your shaman actually do? Pray over you, wave her hands around, give out magic buffs, or - "

Her hand hit something hard.

Thick.

And definitely nothing like a rolled hide.

Seraya turned her head. In the pale moonlight, she made out a thick, yellowed femur resting partly under the grass, right beside her hip.

"Holy shit! What is that?!"

She jumped up so fast the bedding rustled beneath her. Her shirt rode up on her belly as she grabbed the bone and hurled it across the floor on instinct. It struck the stones with a dry, hollow clatter.

Niva scrambled up at once.

"My weapon!"

She rushed to the bone, picked it up, and examined it with distress, as if Seraya had just tossed away a family heirloom.

"Warrior, I use that to hunt," she said with quiet reproach. "I don't have another."

Seraya froze mid-motion.

She looked at the bone, then at the girl.

"You hunt with that? I saw wooden spears out there!"

"One family is allowed one spear," Niva explained, clutching her peculiar weapon to her side. "My mother carries ours."

Seraya slowly pressed a palm to her forehead.

One...Fucking...Spear…

...Per family!

For a moment, she couldn't even find a curse strong enough.

Emberfrost was far more primitive than she had imagined. She didn't know yet whether they lacked good timber, tools, or if someone had just invented an idiotic rule that everyone followed for generations.

What she did know was that sending Niva out among beasts armed with nothing but a bone seemed like sheer madness.

She sank back onto the bedding, this time sweeping the grass with her hand first to make sure no other damn bones were lurking there.

The girl's words lingered in her mind.

The heart for the hunter. The choice cuts for the leaders, and scraps for the rest.

The more she thought about it, the shadier the setup felt. The top prize went to the hunter to keep everyone competing, while seven privileged women took their fill before anyone else got a bite.

Damn... If that was intentional, those old vixens knew what they were doing.

"Rest a moment, warrior. I will prepare your food," Niva said.

Seraya grunted in reply, still lost in thought.

The girl walked over to her mothers sorting the family share. They spoke in low whispers for a moment, arranging cuts on broad leaves. Then Niva returned and knelt before Seraya once more.

In her hands she held the Homotherium's heart and a generous cut of fresh meat.

"Here. Eat."

Seraya looked at the offered meal.

Then at Niva's face.

Then back at the food.

Dark fluid pooled on the leaf. The meat was raw, heavy, and nothing like the dinner she had fantasized about on the trek down to the valley.

"Am I... supposed to eat this?"

Niva nodded with complete seriousness. Her eyes darted briefly to the meat, and she swallowed hard.

"It's very good."

Seraya caught the glance and looked around more carefully.

The portions held by the other women were much smaller. Some in the cave had only a few bites, chewing slowly as if trying to trick their stomachs. Others ate fruit, glancing continually at the meat in their neighbors' hands.

Niva had given her nearly her entire share.

Seraya felt a prick of guilt. Just moments ago she was complaining about the smell, the bedding, and tribal customs, yet this girl had brought her own dinner over.

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'll eat fruit," Niva answered quickly. "You fought the beast. You need to regain your strength."

As she spoke, she swallowed again, her gaze lingering on the edge of the leaf.

Seraya sighed.

What a stubborn, sweet kid...

Still, Seraya had no clue how to actually eat this.

"Sister, how am I supposed to eat this? Just like that? Raw?"

Niva blinked in genuine surprise.

"How else?"

Seraya craned her neck, looking toward the other families. In the gloom sat women and futa of various ages, and every one who had received meat was tearing into it without hesitation. No one was cooking anything. Nowhere was there a fire pit, a pot, or even a charred spit.

Quiet chatter and the wet sounds of chewing drifted through the cave.

Seraya felt her hunger clash head-on with a rebellious stomach.

I ran from predators all day just to force myself to chew on raw cat meat tonight?

No. Damn it all, a line had to be drawn somewhere.

"Do you always eat like this?" she asked, gently checking Niva's hands to stop her from thrusting the leaf forward.

"Meat?"

"Raw meat. Do you never roast it?"

Dawn broke across the girl's face.

"Roasted meat is eaten by the elders, Vaelira, and Maerra."

Seraya froze.

"What?"

"They eat it roasted."

"Then why don't you?!"

Niva lowered her head, her voice dropping to a near-reverent whisper.

"Only the shaman can call upon fire. When she performs the ritual, no one is allowed to watch. Looking can bring severe punishment. And once the flame appears, she allows the elders to tend it and roast their meat..."

Seraya sat motionless for a moment.

Then a snort broke from her throat.

She tried to stifle it, but it was too late. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she doubled over in raspy, incredulous laughter. Her aching shoulders shook, and she had to gasp for breath as the laughter squeezed her tired stomach.

"Making fire... a miracle?!" she wheezed. "Since when, holy fuck?!"

Niva went pale instantly.

Darting an anxious glance toward the others in the cave, she grabbed Seraya's arm.

"Quiet, warrior! Please!"

Seraya was still trying to stifle her chuckles.

"No, look, sorry, but - "

"Insulting the shaman can cost you your life!" Niva whispered with such terror that Seraya finally cut off.

The girl was dead serious.

Her fingers gripped Seraya's wrist tight, white ears pressed flat against her skull. She kept glancing at the entrance as though expecting someone with a sharpened stick to march in.

Seraya wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and blew out a breath through her nose.

"All right. Fine. I'll keep it down."

She leaned in closer, dropping her voice.

"Tell me this, though, sister... If I can make fire too, what then? Do I become a shaman?"

Niva stared at her for a moment, then sighed in resignation.

"Warrior, please don't joke about such things. Let us just eat."

Seraya pursed her lips.

Apparently, she could tame a prehistoric predator before the entire valley, but rubbing a few sticks together was beyond belief.

"Fine, I won't tease you," she muttered. "Let me ask this instead. Would you like to try roasted meat?"

The answer showed on Niva's face before she could even part her lips.

Her eyes lit up, her gaze drifting toward the mouth of the cave as she slowly nodded.

"Yes. I've never had it, but sometimes you can smell it... It's completely different from raw meat. It's..."

She trailed off, searching for the right word, and swallowed.

Seraya watched her in silence.

The girl could hunt with a bone in her hands, butcher a carcass, and survive a forest full of beasts, yet she had never in her life tasted cooked meat.

And a few dozen paces away, five old hags were likely settling their portions comfortably over the flames.

One of Niva's mothers overheard the last words and walked over, worry on her face. The other stopped just behind her.

"Do not speak of such things," she warned quietly. "Fire is a gift from the heavens to our tribe. Only Vaelira can summon it. Common folk should not reach for such power."

Niva nodded at once, as though her mother had just stated the obvious.

Seraya stared at them in growing disbelief.

"Power, my ass..." she muttered under her breath. "All it takes is - "

Before she could finish, Seraya trailed off, catching a faint scent.

She sniffed the air again.

Cutting through the heavy reek of damp hides and stale grass came something new: a thin wisp of smoke, followed by the warm aroma of roasting meat.

Seraya's stomach clamped so hard it nearly growled out loud.

She turned her head toward the entrance.

"Wait... Do you smell that? Roasted meat?"

Niva looked the same way.

"The elders are roasting for Vaelira again," she answered softly.

Conversation died down across the cave.

All seventeen dwellers turned their heads toward the drifting scent. Women stopped chewing fruit, hands holding raw meat paused halfway to their mouths, and the sound of swallowed saliva broke the darkness again and again.

Niva still knelt before Seraya with the leaf in her hands.

She stared toward the mouth of the cave with such open longing that no words were needed to describe it.