I stopped by the Glen on the way to the blynxes’ den to make sure I still had Ikfael’s permission to bring them home. She’d been skeptical when I’d first proposed my plan to tame them, but once I’d explained the benefits, she had agreed to let them stay. It would only cost an additional fish a week. What a bargain.
Ikfael gave me the okay sign, and I was immediately on my way again. My heart wouldn’t rest until I saw that the blynxes were all right.
There were more wolf prints along the way—and stranger yet, signs of elk, moose, and musk oxen passing through as well. It was a mess, actually; the mental map of their territories I’d learned was thrown into confusion.
The blynxes ended up being fine, but I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the mother was missing. It was just the two kittens hiding in the fallen log until—heart attack number two—the mother appeared out of nowhere. She brought an eviscerated hare with her.
The mother blynx eyed me as if I had designs on her kill, so I stepped away from the log. Only then did she yowl, and the kittens came tumbling out of the log. She stood proudly as she watched them eat.
One tore away a couple of bites, but then ambled over to his mother for a drink. She batted him away, toward the hare. Both of the kittens were male, and this was the smaller of the two, his fur colored a little lighter than the other. In my head, I called him Felix.
His brother was slightly bigger and darker. He also tended to be clumsier and more rambunctious. I called him Oscar.
Only when Felix had eaten another few bites did his mother give in and let him have milk. Oscar, seeing his brother get permission, rushed over to join him. The three of them looked so wholesome.
The hare probably wouldn’t have thought things were so good, but that was life, eh?
I unfurled the Grace spell to build on the feeling of wellbeing, and Yuki came out into the open for the first time. The portion of them that had been hiding in Bihei’s longhouse—the one originally in Borba—had returned to join the main body during my last visit to Voorhei.
Now, they separated again and moved around the area, exploring, before rejoining my body. This repeated several times; hopefully it got the blynxes used to the idea of Yuki entering and exiting a body, causing no harm in the process.
The mother watched. Her expression reminded me of a cat at the window looking at the people passing by: curious, but unconcerned. The real worry was the kittens—they wanted to pounce on Yuki. Not that it’d do them any good. Yuki had Dog’s Agility well in hand by now. And failing that, Camouflage and Scentless Hunter. And failing all that, they could transform into qi and dive back into my body.
I laughed when Oscar, giving heedless chase, bumped into my leg. Felix followed him right after.
They played, sometimes under the effects of Grace and sometimes not, and every time the spell was in effect, I moved a little closer to the mother. Bit by bit I approached until I sat next to her. She was still possessive of the hare’s remains, so I kept her between it and me. That seemed to mollify her.
Time passed, and the kittens finally tuckered themselves out. They stumbled into the log and were soon asleep in a pile. I noticed the mother’s eyes starting to droop as well. That’s when Yuki came out one last time, and I offered them to her.
The blynx sniffed at Yuki, curious about the thing that had had her kittens so excited. Grace spread between us, and she felt my and Yuki’s intentions. With a yawn, she turned on her side and let them in.
I kept watch while Yuki focused on the portion of themselves inside the blynx. The area around her den was quiet now that the kittens were asleep. Dusk was only a couple hours away, and she’d probably go hunting again then. Lynxes, as I knew them, were nocturnal hunters. Blynxes, however, didn’t seem to care much about time of day, so that was just a guess on my part.
I yawned, the sight of the drowsing blynx contagious. I felt my eyes grow heavy within the comfort of Grace. When the spell ended, nothing changed except that the black tufts at the ends of her ears swiveled as she became more alert. The white fur on her belly looked so soft, I wanted to pet it, but yeah, no—that wouldn’t be smart. One day though.
The rest of her fur was a blend of grays and browns. Thick too, although it’d likely get much thicker when winter came. Her paws were enormous—at least five inches across—which would also help in the snow. Interestingly, her hind legs were longer than her fore legs, so she leaned forward when she walked.
How’s it going in there? I asked Yuki.
Her qi is cool, but her dantians are warm, which causes an interesting confluence when they meet. The effect is unfamiliar and fascinating.
Focus, Yuki. You’re supposed to be getting her permission to stay inside, remember?
Already done. Communicating with her is very similar to the old days when all we could do was bundle thoughts, emotions, and instincts together. Her… vocabulary is different, but not complex. No, it is complex in its own way, just not hard to understand. Not after all the effort we’ve put into understanding Ollie/Eight.
“I’d really love to know what rank your Communication skill is,” I muttered.
Yuki, my cheeky friend, responded, Higher than yours, we’re sure.
I was going to retort… but realized they were probably right. I mean, I’d been learning Diaksh at an accelerated rate, but I had the benefit of knowing multiple languages prior. Yuki had gone from being pre-verbal to fluent in both English and Diaksh over the course of—what—a couple of months? It was incredible, really. Inconceivable.
We don’t think that word means what you think it means.
I snorted, the reference catching me by surprise. Yuki’s sense of humor was also rapidly developing, and my estimation for their Intelligence attribute went up again.
“When did you read The Princess Bride?”
We watched the movie. You were asleep, and we found the memory next to a conversation with Helen about Mel Brooks.
“The connection being the actor Cary Elwes.”
Yes, that’s right. We liked him in The Princess Bride, but didn’t think Robin Hood Men in Tights was Brooks’ best work.
“That would be Blazing Saddles.”
Please. It was Young Frankenstein.
“Well, that’s a classic, I won’t deny it, but… wait, hold on, should we really be talking about movies at a time like this?”
Yuki sent the emotional equivalent of a shrug. We’re mapping her meridians and looking for the best places to observe her abilities in action. Talking is a free action.
And there was a Dungeons & Dragons reference. Ah, I wonder if we can play. I could carve the dice, and Ikfael draw the scenes, and… focus, Ollie.
I sighed. The problem was that the setting was just too damn idyllic. The air was warm, and the late-afternoon sun peeked through the trees to dapple the ground with light. In the distance, crickets chirruped and birds sang. The wind rustled the branches of the trees above. The mother blynx’s eyes were closed, although her ears continued to twitch.
There were some dark clouds on the horizon, but from the way the wind was blowing, they’d probably pass us by.
Yuki snorted. Seriously, just go into the den and take a nap. We’ll stay alert for danger. But cast Grace first. We’re about to try something tricky.
“Tricky? What?”
To connect with her nervous system. Not permanently, though. We’ve learned our lesson on that.
The whole point of us not merging our consciousnesses was for me to keep watch while Yuki worked, but I was so tired. Not only physically, but also emotionally and mentally. A nap sure did sound nice.
I cast Grace and crawled into the fallen log. The blynx perked up, but settled down when she saw me getting comfy.
“Be careful,” I said, and a beat later I was asleep.
I woke up with a face full of sleeping kittens, and carefully pried them loose. Their mother sat outside, awake now. Dusk was settling onto the land, and the breeze gusting into the den was chillier than before. The air smelled damp too—the wind must’ve shifted and brought the dark clouds our way after all.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I asked Yuki, How goes it?
Her anatomy is extraordinary. We found the qi and mana channels by pulsing the energies through her, but the source of body power eludes us. We don’t know which parts of her anatomy are relevant or involved. But we’ll talk about that later. Yuki paused to confirm something within the blynx, then said, There’s a storm coming, and we were just about to wake you. Here, it’ll be easier to show you. Yuki’s attention shifted to the main body inside me, and we merged.
We felt gratified at the refreshed state of our combined consciousness. Yuki’s encouragement of Ollie/Eight to take a nap had indeed been the right choice. The human body and mind needed regular rest to operate at peak efficiency.
Observation confirmed, we shifted our attention back to the portion of ourselves inside the mother blynx. Her attention was on the bushes and trees shaken by the wind. Her ears swiveled, listening intently as anxiety grew within her. She sniffed at the air, and the scent association made her uneasy.
We knew the scent well: the mixture of ozone and nitrogen dioxide left in the aftermath of lightning. The wind was blowing it ahead of the oncoming storm. The blynx also picked up the sound of distant thunder.
Excitement spiked through us. It was tempered, though, by the understanding that no matter how much Ollie/Eight loved lightning, the King of the Forest loved it more. Every time there’d been a serious thunderstorm above these woods, the bear had run rampant and driven all the other creatures from their territories. The unideer and the bishkawi had both invaded the Glen in the aftermath of thunderstorms.
The blynx also associated lightning with the King’s rampages, and instinct drove her to pick up the kittens one by one and take them deeper into the den to hide. They mewled at being woken abruptly, but their mother licked them to settle them down.
We returned to our body and made preparations to go back to the Glen in case it needed defending. It should be safe to leave the mother and kittens for now—the chances that the King or some other creature would come across the den were reasonably low. Yet we hesitated to leave them. Low was not nil.
The mother’s eyes glowed in the dim light of the den. She paused her care of the kittens to watch us watching her. Then she stood and came to the entrance, batted our arm down so that we were within reach, and bit the side of our jacket’s collar to drag us into the den. She was trying to protect us.
We knew then that we couldn’t leave the blynxes behind to face the uncertainty of the future alone. That was not something Ollie/Yuki/Eight would do, so we shifted our attention into her body and projected a series of thought-emotion-sense bundles: a cozy den with much prey nearby, a warm fire on cold nights, and the protection of a friendly spirit who watched over it all.
The blynx purred as the sense bundles washed over her consciousness. Her instinct was to stick to the den she knew—that was where safety lay for her and her kittens—but the promise of sheltering with Ikfael drew her like iron to a lodestone. She possessed an innate understanding of the power of spirits of the land.
Resolution spiraled out from this deeper instinct, and we felt her intent to move. She urged us to pick up Felix, while she grabbed Oscar by the nape. And just like that we were out in the gusting wind—kitten in one hand, spear in the other, and the mother blynx chasing behind.
The treetops shook, and the sky darkened. Dusk approached, and the clouds sweeping in from the east hastened the light’s departure. We enchanted our eyes with qi and nature mana, which helped, but once night fell we’d be hard pressed to continue moving quickly.
Bushes and branches whipped against us. The scent of lightning grew, and our heart, which was already beating fast, beat faster. A wild joy threatened to overwhelm our good sense.
We suppressed the urge to throw ourselves into the storm and redirected the joy into running—transforming it into a wild dash home, with a promise at the end to dance in the rain and revel in the thunder and lightning.
The rain had begun to fall just as we arrived. Ikfael was waiting for us by the pool’s edge, and we separated consciousnesses to allow her to talk to Ollie/Eight.
“There are three,” Ikfael signed. “We agreed on one.”
Without Yuki’s steadying influence, I felt restless, like there were ants under my skin. Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the horizon.
“There were kittens.” I said and held out Felix. “We couldn’t leave them behind.”
“No, I suppose not,” Ikfael signed. “All right, they can stay. Just make sure they behave.”
I could already tell that was going to be a challenge. Felix squirmed to escape from my arms to follow after Oscar, who’d gotten loose to explore the pool’s edge.
Their mother was much more careful—she approached Ikfael in a crouch with downcast eyes. “Yeorwl.”
Translation, Yuki?
Question-stay-protect.
Ikfael stared at her before sighing. “Whatever. You can stay. Given the way things have been going, another set of claws will be useful. Just… just… never mind…you’ll figure it out.” The otter dove into the pool and disappeared.
For a moment before she left, I felt the tickle of spirit magic from her, but then it was gone as quickly as she.
The mother blynx stood to her full height and looked around the Glen. She moved off to explore too, with more intention than her kittens. But before she could wander away to start marking her new territory, I asked Yuki to bring her to me, and I showed her how to get to the cave behind the waterfall.
Then I started a fire inside the cave and brought in some greenery that’d serve as a sleeping place for her and her kittens, which she promptly ignored to instead express interest in my bed.
Yuki, the traitor, agreed with her. Warm, cozy, and safe. What could be better?
“I could do without the fleas,” I said.
They’re all gone, Yuki said. Ikfael’s Blessing took care of them.
Really? I hadn’t forgotten that her blessing protected against small insects and vermin while within the Glen. I just hadn’t thought she’d share it with the blynxes so quickly. Was our Ikfael warming up?
I grinned, thinking that might be the case, danced a little jig, and made for the top of the cliff to watch the storm roll in—and to keep an eye out for invading creatures, of course. But mostly the storm.
It was a humdinger. The wind and rain lashed the woods with a ferocity I hadn’t seen yet in this world. The spirits of the trees raged right back at the sky. It was impossible to tell who was angrier.
Lightning fell in waves. There were long minutes when the night sky was constantly lit with its fire. The qi sparked in the air, and I spun Dog’s Agility through me to slow the world down and watch the lightning’s dance.
Gods, but it was glorious.
I drank deep from the storm, and the qi roiled through my meridians, spilling over into my muscles, bones, and bloodstream. I felt like I could cast a hundred Spiral Pierce spells in a row. That I could climb a thousand mountains, then jump into the sky to where the lightning lived.
Yuki flew higher. They sucked in the qi faster than me, and their tank went much deeper than mine. A glimpse was all it took to tell that even their prodigious reserves were overfull.
So much energy! There had to be something I could do with it other than enjoy the way it buzzed through me.
Yuki was of the same mind, and they ran through experiment after experiment, attempting to use the lightning qi to propel the next refinement of my own qi. We joined our consciousnesses to better harness all the resources at our disposal.
We applied esoteric qigong practices, drew symbols that only our grandmother would recognize, extrapolated on our understanding of the Hunter’s Lodge’s practices… and maybe even attempted to Kamehameha. The lightning qi was slippery though, bending to our will but resisting at the same time. The experience was frustrating, infuriating, and we loved every second of it.
Ultimately, we were unsuccessful. Although we became more practiced at working with the lightning qi, our efforts to refine our own qi faltered.
Two hours before dawn, the storm finally broke. A smattering of rain still fell, carried by a laggard wind, but the lightning’s fury was spent.
Yuki and I separated, and I lay on the ground exhausted, as if I’d trained the whole day at the lodge. My skin, my hair, and my clothes were all soaked through, but I wasn’t cold. Not just because of Ikfael’s Blessing either. The lightning qi still buzzed through me.
A quick check with Yuki told me that the blynxes were well and safe. Unlike me, they’d spent a cozy night in the dry cave.
Gods, but my whole body felt like it’d been hammered. I did some slow stretches to ease the kinks and sore spots, and that turned into an early-morning yoga session at the top of the cliff. I needed to put the lightning qi to use or it wouldn’t let me rest, no matter how worn I was.
Moving in an eight-year-old body felt so good, a true luxury even with all I regularly put it through. So much better than the constant aches and pains that came with old age. It was a real joy to focus on the yoga’s movements and breathing. Where it made sense, I included some of the lodge’s stretching and strength-building poses.
Inside, Yuki watched the qi flow and looked for inspiration for more experiments.
Life, for the moment, was good.
Alas, it didn’t last. I was just about to enter savasana, the resting pose meant to nourish the body at the end of a yoga session, when I heard Ikfael scrambling up the slope.
The sun wasn’t up yet, and clouds covered the moon and stars, so I had to enchant my eyes to see her. Even then, all I got was the barest outlines. I switched to my spirit eyes, and that was better. At least I could see well enough to read her paws when she signed.
She pulled my weapons from her pocket and dumped them at my feet. “Something’s crossed the Glen’s boundary. Get ready.”
