Aldrich's eyes cracked open, the world swimming into focus. Rough bark scraped his back as he propped himself up, the jungle's humid breath clinging to his skin. His gaze landed on the Sylvarith, crouched over a Skitterling's carapace, her form carved with an eerie perfection. Her skirt, woven from tough, broad leaves, parted to reveal pale thighs, veins faintly threading beneath skin so human it almost fooled him. But those pointed ears betrayed her.
"You wake," she said, her gaze locking with his, sharp and steady. "Sleep long. Three hours." She hoisted a sack bulging with cracked carapaces over her shoulder, the red King's shell glinting among them.
"Those useful?" Aldrich asked, voice hoarse, nodding at the sack as he pushed to his feet, sickle-arm still in his grip.
She snorted, tossing him a jagged piece of the King's red carapace. "Kanka. Not useless." Her Manora was rough.
Aldrich turned the shard over, its edge sharp enough to cut his skin easily. "What's it good for?"
"Blades, armor, arrows," she said with a shrug, like it was obvious. "Strong and light."
"Where do I find a forger?" he asked. Forgers were rare back home, as they were usually snatched up by the highlands.
.
"Forger?" She tilted her head, long brown hair spilling like a waterfall.
"Weapon maker," he clarified, keeping it simple.
"Ah!" Her face lit up, a spark of excitement breaking her cool facade. "We have at settlement. You follow, they make." She gestured into the jungle's depths, her bow swaying on her shoulder.
Aldrich's eyes lingered on the Sylvarith, wariness coiling in his gut. He had just met her, could he trust her? Moreover, she was supposed to be an enemy, a prey to be specific.
She glanced back, amber eyes glinting. "Your choice," she said, then turned, her leaf-woven skirt swaying as she strode into the jungle's shadows.
He exhaled sharply, glancing at the Skitterling corpses littering the clearing, now skinned off their carpaces. Alone, he was vulnerable. She was a powerful partner, and definitely knew about the area better. It was a risk worth taking.
"Hold up," he called, breaking into a jog to catch her, the sickle-arm still heavy in his grip "I don't even know your name."
She paused, turning with a proud tilt of her chin. "Aldana masa kuta, daughter of Jenoka masa kuta," she said, chest puffing, her long hair catching the canopy's dappled light.
"Yours?"
"Aldrich. Aldrich Alderman," he replied, voice plain, studying her.
"How do you speak Manora?" he asked, falling into step beside her.
"I learn," she said curtly. "You not first of your kind here."
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Aldana stopped, facing him, her face animated, almost childlike. "Father say, before I born, space warriors, your people, come. Big flying metals." Her hands swept wide, mimicking a ship's bulk. "Father say your kind strong. Very strong. He saw man call lightning from sky, and it obey." Her eyes gleamed, wide with wonder.
Aldrich's jaw tightened. Not at the powers, he knew higher cores granted godlike powers, But at the thought of Highlanders invading Mako long ago, yet leaving it untouched. No colonies, no technological renovation, just trees and nature. Why send candidates to slaughter its inhabitants if not to claim it? This was strange. It was against the very colonial nature of the Akagi empire. Something was not right.
"You call lightning?" Aldana asked, head tilting.
"Not yet," he said, coughing, a half-smile breaking through.
"Shame," she said, turning forward, her stride confident. "But you fight good."
He rubbed his chin with his wrist, smooth from youth and battle sweat. "So, your father taught you Manora?"
"Yes," she nodded. "He learn from your kind, back then. I learn from him." Her voice softened, a flicker of pride in her father's shadow.
Dusk bled into the jungle, the pale blue sky dimming as shadows clawed longer across the massive trees. Aldrich and Aldana pressed through the undergrowth.
"How much farther?" he asked, pausing to lean against a gnarled trunk, sweat beading on his brow.
"Just past Lazo river," Aldana said, easing her trim frame against a tree, her bow resting beside her. Her leaf-woven skirt rustled, catching the fading light.
"What river?" Aldrich asked, brow furrowing.
"Keep north, we hit it soon," she replied. She fished a thin, leathery strip from a pouch at her waist, snapping it in two. One piece disappeared into her mouth, her jaw working with a faint crunch. "Want some?" she offered, holding out the other half, her eyes glinting.
Aldrich eyed the strip. It was red and looked like nothing he had seen. His stomach churned, but he schooled his face, hiding his unease. "What is it?"
"Dried Olgoron bull," she said, nudging it closer, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Good meat."
"I'll pass," he said, gently pushing her hand back, his voice dry. It was one of the creatures in the archives. It was a bull like creature with claws for hooves.
"Suit yourself." She shrugged, tossing the rest into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated gusto, the sound loud in the still air.
"We go," Aldana said, swallowing the last of her Olgoron bull strip, her jaw still working as she rose. She slung the heavy sack of Skitterling carapaces over her shoulder, its weight barely slowing her, and nodded toward the darkening jungle.
"Forest turns deadly after dusk."
Aldrich stood, brushing dirt from his hands, the sickle-arm catching the last slivers of fading light. "It's getting dark. How do we move without a torch?" he asked, eyeing the shadows swallowing the trees.
Aldana turned, her amber eyes narrowing, puzzled. "Torch?"
He frowned, gesturing vaguely. "Something to light the way. How do you see in the dark?"
"With eyes," she said, her voice flat, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You don't need light?" he pressed, incredulous.
"To see? No." She tilted her head, long hair shifting like a cascade of shadow. "We hunt from birth. Night is clear to us."
Aldrich blinked. "I'm not like you. I need light to see in the dark if we're pushing on." He stood, brushing dirt from his hands, and scanned the ground. Grabbing a sturdy stick, he tore a strip from his tattered pants, wrapping it tightly around the tip. He scavenged two jagged stones, striking them together, sparks flickering briefly in the gathering dusk. However, it would not burn.
Aldana watched, head tilted, her amber eyes catching the last glimmers of light. "What you doing?" she asked as he tried again, the seventh attempt failing.
"Making a torch," Aldrich grunted, frustration sharpening his words, the stick still cold and lifeless in his grip.
"Oh?" She dropped cross-legged to the ground, her leaf skirt rustling, watching him like a kid studying a new game.
Minutes dragged, each strike of stone yielding nothing but faint sparks and growing irritation. With a curse, Aldrich hurled the stones into the dirt, his patience spent. He'd seen Master Veltroch do this once, many years ago.
"If I had some fuel," he muttered, slumping onto a thick root, his black shirt fading into the encroaching night.
"Fooel?" Aldana asked, mangling the word, her brow furrowing like a puzzled child's.
Aldrich's head throbbed, her innocence grating yet oddly disarming. If he hadn't seen her carve through Skitterlings hours ago, he'd swear she was some overgrown toddler. "Fuel's a… substance," he started, then caught himself..too complex. "It makes fire."
Aldana's eyes lit up, a glint of mischief in their amber glow. She rummaged in her sack, pulling out a green Skitterling carapace, black blood still oozing from its cracks.
"Try," she said, thrusting it toward Aldrich, her voice bright with certainty.
He stared at the dripping shell, eyes widening as realization sparked. Taking it carefully, he tilted it over the cloth-wrapped stick, letting the thick, tar-like ichor soak the fabric until it gleamed wetly. He snatched the stones again, striking them with a sharp clack. A spark leapt, and the cloth erupted in flame, the torch flaring to life, casting jagged shadows across the jungle floor.
"I'll be damned," Aldrich laughed, a rough, relieved sound breaking through his earlier frustration. The fire's warmth kissed his face.