She reads it over and over again, her head spinning in different moments of time. The dreams were forgotten, the world plummets to the black. The last nine percent of the world knew, they aren't getting their world back. The land flooded in tears, each heart aflame and heated. Today, the world feels happiness.

It's all too identical for her. Her life always rotated around the grassland. To play in spring, to laugh in summer, to play and explore again during the autumn, and to migrate off to the mountainside during winter. Yearning for more was all she ever wanted. Even when it sounded too far-fetched. 

Today, the world feels happiness.

One time she felt happiness was when she went to walk around the swamp with Ying. It was a crystal clear memory. The chatter was no more than twenty-five seasons prior. They talked of their legends, their folklores, like youngsters skipping merrily through the woods.

She remembers. "I can't believe you still like that book, though," Ying once told her. "Do you even know how many times Otoi mentions 'world' in one page? See, the redundancy, the utter vagueness of it all, and really, what panther drinks milk?"

Ying once said those all.

Yaya once replied. "I like Otoi's writing. I like his imagination. I like his wits. He's like my dad."

Bold of her to say that. She knew very little of her dad.

Strange it was for her. Being the only one remaining to care for her mom, the only thing that appears to be her only escape from such misery were the remaining remnants from her brother. A remnant that was never exactly so fine with words, still, it had always been good enough for her.

There was little mystery in her life. If there ever was that exciting sense, it would've been her lifelong questions. Her life has always circulated around the thought of her brother's beloved folklore. It was a realm meant to be explained, but left to be one she is now tempted to unfold for herself.

If one question ringed in her head, every time, it would be, is it all just a myth?

The last nine percent of the world knew...

Are there really more people like her out there? Were they never really alone? Was Ying rubbing the wrong facts in front of her face all this time?

The daydreams bring her into her mother's tent. Yaya sits on the old quilts Aunty Yang sleeps in, folded and ready to be carried away for migration. They're worn out, torn up by time. Though Aunty Yah doesn't seem to have any problem with it all.

She lays quietly on the floor, her breathing ragged and brought slower by her age. Her garments have barely changed, mostly because she's been offering all her found clothes to her lovely girls.

Ying and Yaya were like daughters to her. But growing old, she was. Perhaps it would be Aunty Yang's turn to be fully in-charge in a few years time.

After all, she is sixty-two years of age. But they knew that not.

Yaya can't help but return favors, tucking in her exhausted mother under some thick blankets. Cold fumes float from Aunty Yah's breath. It's migration time in a few days, an inevitable time of year for the four to head somewhere without the violent snowfall and blizzards.

"Mom," Yaya breathes amid her busy mind. "I'll be fixing our things soon. I'll just go outside to wait for Aunty Yang, okay? I'll be taking a breather too."

Yaya forces a smile while her mom can only moan, nod, and whisper. "It's okay, darling. Take your time, okay?" she faintly murmurs.

"I will, Mom. Goodnight" is all Yaya can manage to say.

It's the unsteady pace of rambling thoughts that keep her awake to stay outside the tent in the depth of night. Crickets drown the silence of the darkness, so Yaya has no need to wake her sleeping best friend by their own tent. The embers of the bonfire slowly die out, though it wasn't much of Yaya's concern.

She looks around, gazing at the grass bathing in frosty white flakes. Ice chills the breeze, however, her mind runs elsewhere.

Her brain hovers over memories. "To the stars, to the stars, make me a man," her dreams sing. It's obvious Yaya and Ying have been playing the game for so many years now. After so many seasons, she was always the same, even when many things came and went.

Every time, she wished for an actual man. Every time, Ying wrote her off as a hopeless lover for her far-fetched hopes.

Then her brain, if not for a little while, turns to the thought of her mother. Will she be strong enough to walk to the migration site? Can she even walk for hours on end? Guess she'll know the hard way.

From her mother, she thinks of her brother too. The row of thirty-seven sticks from their makeshift calendar. The thought of Otoi as a whole.

Otoi should be thirty-seven now.

It's cliché, but Yaya looks up the stars, breathing in the biting, icy air. She's always missed him. Never really had there been a day she never thought of him, or his ballad.

That doggone ballad.

She still has the words engraved on her heart, missing not one word. She remembers it all. The poisonous sap, the murderous, morphing panther with black fur, a white scar, and a missing toe.

Haunting details they were indeed, but it gives the thrill Yaya's always wanted.

Her very best detail was one, however.

The missing page one hundred thirteen.

Her brain runs like a high-speed train, zooming about, turning to different guesses and theories. Yaya likes questioning herself like this, so she never expects an answer.

There's only the whistling wind, rustling leaves, probably even some croaking night frogs, some crickets, and an owl.

Plus one weak whistle.

The whistle is sharp, but frail. A short whistle, yet enough to catch the lone girl's attention. Her eyes dash from one side to another in sheer curiosity, from the chilly weeds, to the shadowy shrubs on the end of the camp. She doesn't think of it much, until she learns it might've not been a bird.

Birds have a melodious song to their chirping. This one had none. Like it was only meant for calling. They were minute, soft, but strangely alluring. Like breeze shrieking through a tin tube. As if called to her, she stands. The only thing holding her back now is the mere weight of her own body. Still, she carries it effortlessly, stepping closer to the gloomy evening, and closer to the chirping.

※

Everything is dim at this hour, and she can't help but get dragged by the sound. From this far, the tents appear the size of ants, the bonfire now no more than the size of a firefly. The horizon fades to different hues from that high. The grassland is nothing but a footprint-looking excavation amidst the thick forest.

Yaya doesn't look back. The more she steps into the shadows, the further she gets from home.

She looks at the black, meeting with a pair of rich, yellow eyes.

They peer through the ferns, golden beads piercing through the gloomy woodlands. At a viewpoint, one may mistake them for glowing globes, a pair of fireflies dancing about some bushes. The eyes move at a steady, deadly pace.

They aren't eyes. No, wait. They blink.

When Yaya glares at them, she doesn't walk away, simply staring deep into the amber pools of color. She can't move, still at her spot. Her arms are frozen mid-air, her back arched and immobile. There, she stands motionless. But her heart violently clobbers in her chest.

If only she could cry, if only she could scream, if only Ying was within proximity. If only she was close enough to run to her as she runs in fear. The growls grow louder, bellowing amongst the darkness.

There's no noise. No other noise. Only the deep roars and Yaya's own hitching breath. She tries to gasp for air, but even that is louder than the crunch of her feet on leaves. She presses her lips in an attempt to mute her shuddering teeth.

One noise, it may pounce. One movement, it may leap. One scream...would be enough for vicious fangs to meet flesh.

Her hair cloaks her vision, even though it was more than enough for her to peer through and see its curling tail. At one second, she thinks a snake.

No. It's growling. Like bubbling metal in a deep canyon, like an echo bursting up one's spine.

To hear it is one nightmare. In earshot, it was like hearing gargling aluminum, if that ever made sense. The huffs and the vibrating roars alternate to make deathly tunes. They reverberate through the poor girl, making her feel like she's sunken to the dirt.

There are the fangs, the whiskers, the tail.

It's pitch black.

Just when nothing else should matter, just when her biggest concern should've been making it out alive and wishing to destiny she wouldn't be eaten that night, her eyes float off. The panther prowls at her direction, its paws gently meeting with the firm loam underneath.

Eye meets eye, yet Yaya still maintains composure even in the brink of death. Tears threaten to escape, if it weren't for the panther's face to be inches away from her cheek.

Its breath smells of meat, fish, and everything putrid in between. Her nose wants to twitch, but she keeps it static. She wants to look, it's a miracle she still has a second to.

It looks devilish, cunning, guileful. Its eyes are clear, without a single hue out of place. Its oblivious. Without a scar.

She looks down at the beast. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...

Eight doesn't tick off. Not an eighth toe.

A paw with a missing toe stands beside her foot.

There's that unfathomable sigh of relief even while the panther makes rounds around her. The panther's tail brushes by her wrist, as if trying to pull it down.

A couple more sniffs, then a hiss, a growl, then a slow crawl away.

It's leaving.

She needs to breathe. Still, she can't for it looks back before leaving her permanently. No scar, but there is a missing toe.

Is it really?

There's silent purring fetched by the night's blowing air. A queer voice. A voice never there. Eye meets eye. Come. Help.

※

Yaya stumbles through the steep rocks before she fully hobbles her way to Ying sleeping in her tent. "Ying, Ying! Oh my gosh, you won't believe it!" She's tempted to yell, shout in joy and relief and luck. Instead, she muffles her screams in her own throat. "Ying, please, get up, holy moly!"

She tosses her hands on Ying's arms to wake her.

"What...?" Ying mutters, half-asleep.

"Ying! It's real! I can't believe it's real!"

"Whu- wai- huh...?"

"I'm not the d-word you call me!"

"The d-word...?!"

Yaya gives it some thought before bouncing on her knees again. "Delusional! I'm not delusional!"

This is when Ying's forced to arouse. "What do you mean, Yaya? It's the dead of night?!" she scolds her quietly.

"Ying, okay, I know you'll be mad, but hear me out."

Yaya takes Ying's two hands, probably to keep her from slapping whatever part of her.

Even so, she speeds up the story. "Earlier I heard a chirping noise so I followed it and there's this panther it was so cool-looking  and I guess it was hungry but it didn't eat me thank goodness-"

"Are you a soul, or a spirit? Are you dead-?!" She grabs Yaya's shoulders.

"You didn't let me finish, you babbling baboon!" Yaya puts a hand on Ying's lips. "Look, it didn't kill me, as you can see. I'm fine, I'm okay, and the panther had a missing toe!"

She sounds like a fangirling teenage girl.

"No, Yaya, please, stop-"

Yaya stands up, as if inviting her to stand too. "Ying, what if I was called tonight?!"

"Yaya, please don't start with this again-"

"Ying, nothing else makes sense because this hasn't happened before! Imagine if I followed it, got to all of our answers, and everything will start to be better for us like what the ballad said!"

Ying stands. "But the ballad never mentioned a happy ending!"

"The ballad has a missing page, remember? What if it was that?!" she says, stomping out of the tent.

Ying can only manage to follow.

"Yaya, I don't want to argue with you again, I beg of you, I can't even believe you, I'm so sorry!"

They continue to squabble even outside where Aunty Yah can't hear them. Yaya tries to intimidate Ying, planting her feet by the rocks, climbing out of the deep grassland.

"I'm going to look for it, I don't care what happens. This is a chance, Ying! A chance!" She doesn't notice her rising voice.

"A chance of life or death, sure! Take your pick, best friend! Just don't regret it!"

Ying takes her arm. Yaya nudges it off.

"If they're hiding something, I want to be the first to know!"

Ying keeps silent, trying to control her temper.

"Maybe I'll find Dad and Otoi too, if I'm lucky! We'll find each other, accomplish our mission together, find what we're looking for together!" A smile plasters on Yaya's face. "We'll come back together, live together, and we'll have one big family-!"

"Or you'll end up like them and go missing too for years!"