“Arashitora,” whispered the elder, slack-jawed, wide-eyed.
“This is my friend, Buruu.” Yukiko crossed her arms, stood a little taller. “I will have the honor of your names now, please.”
“Isao,” muttered the young man.
“Kaiji,” said the other, eyes still glued to the beast. He pinched himself on the arm and shook his head, as if to reassure himself that he was still awake.
“What are you doing up here?” Yukiko looked back and forth between them. “Why have you set these snares?”
“We hunt game, young mistress,” said Kaiji, blinking rapidly. “To feed the village.”
“What village?”
“We live nearby,” said Isao. “We are simple folk.”
LIARS. BE WARY.
Yukiko glanced at the katana on the old man’s back.
I know, but . . .
She stopped, frowned at the arashitora.
Wait—you can understand what they’re saying?
. . . NOT WORDS. IMAGES. PATTERNS.
How can that be?
DO NOT KNOW. BUT I BEGIN TO SEE THE SOUNDS.
Buruu blinked in the darkness, pupils as wide and deep as the night sky.
THROUGH YOU.
Kaiji watched the pair stare at each other, cleared his throat to break what seemed an uncomfortable silence.
“The village is not far, young mistress. There is shelter there. Food also.”
The mention of shelter hushed all questions about Buruu’s revelation, pulled her back into the gloom and forest’s chill. She shivered in the rain, remembering Kin lying alone and burned on the floor of the cave.
“Do you have healers in your village? Medicine?”
“Are you injured?” The old man looked her up and down.
“No, but my friend is.” Yukiko nodded toward the rock pool. “We were in the sky-ship that crashed not far from here. He was burned.”
“We saw the ship go down.” Isao nodded.
“Did you see the life raft?” Yukiko took a step forward, anxiety etched plainly on her face. “What happened to it?”
“It got away safely.” The boy pointed. “Over the southern range.”
Yukiko felt dizzy with relief. “Thank the gods.”
“We can help you.” Kaiji was watching Buruu warily. “You and your friends.”
“Please don’t lie to me, old man.” Yukiko shook her head in warning. Buruu growled and moved forward, feathered hackles rising down his spine. She could feel the menace vibrating in her chest.
“I swear on the souls of my ancestors.” Kaiji thumped his kusarigama across his heart. “If you are friend to the yōkai, young mistress, you are friend to us.”
THEIR FEET ARE SURE ON UNEVEN GROUND. THE GRIP ON THEIR WEAPONS IS STRONG. THESE ARE WARRIORS, NOT PEASANTS.
I know. But what choice do we have?
KILL THEM. LEAVE THEM IN THEIR PIT.
A mental shrug, as if he were stating the obvious.
Without medicine, Kin will die in that cave.
GOOD.
I can’t let that happen, Buruu. I couldn’t forgive myself. Will you come with me?
The voice of the wind was mournful, lonely as a lost child. The arashitora stared for a long moment, the girl reflected in the liquid amber of his eyes.
Please?
A slow, heavy nod.
. . . I WILL COME WITH YOU.
She smiled into his mind again, gratitude and affection in equal measure.
“All right, Kaiji-san,” Yukiko nodded to the older man. “Follow me.”
She moved off into the darkness. The men followed her silently, glancing over their shoulders at the arashitora. With a faint growl bubbling in his throat, Buruu scowled and stalked after them into the black.
“There it is,” said Kaiji, pointing down into the valley.
Yukiko squinted, seeing only the green of the forest canopy, rippling in the wind.
“Where?” she asked.
They had built a makeshift stretcher for Kin, Isao lashing it to his waist and dragging it behind him. The young man had struggled with Kin’s weight and the deer carcasses, but didn’t whisper a word of protest. Yukiko walked behind them, Buruu beside her, watching Kin with concern. His fever was getting worse, and he seemed to be delirious, muttering nonsense in his sleep. She had tried to wake him several times, but he had barely opened his eyes before sinking back down into unconsciousness.
There were no paths to follow, and burdened as they were, the trek seemed to take hours. The mud was slippery beneath her feet, caked on her ruined sandals. They finally stopped on a small ridge overlooking a crescent-shaped valley, nestled between two spines of jagged, black stone. The rain had sputtered and finally stopped, a blessed, merciful silence descending to kiss each of her numb ears and echo inside her head. Heavy black cloud still covered the sky, but a stubborn shaft of feeble moonlight was stabbing through the thick curtain, illuminating the valley below. Yukiko scanned the greenery but could find no trace of a village.
“I don’t see it,” she whispered.