My palms are shaking. My breaths are short and harsh, and I can't feel my fingers.

The lapwing screams again, its echoes bouncing everywhere around me, making me realize that I can't tell how close the lapwing really is right now by sound alone. Then there's another series of scratches, followed by a bustling rumble—I think the lapwing has launched itself at me.

Kawk!

No time. I let Kotengu's emotions take over again, letting my hand move by itself, and, like before, in it lands another of the same fruit.

The first fruit had fallen off from my sling at some point, so I load the new fruit immediately.

"Thanks! Find me another one!"

Kawk!

I start swinging my sling again. Round, and around, and around, and around until I can no longer see its shape.

The lapwing comes within sight.

Not yet.

Round, and around, and around.

Closer.

Not yet.

Round, and around....

Closer....

Not yet....

Round—

Now.

I let one of my fingers on the vine loose, and the thing makes its proper first sling.

The fruit flies seriously fast. So fast, even, that my eyes couldn't catch up.

And it makes a very loud thwack on a nearby tree as it splatters into pieces.

The lapwing just blasts past that tree.

"Kotengu!"

Kawk!

Just in time.

I receive the fruit from the sky and take a dive sideways as huge, predatory beaks strike where my head was just a split-second ago.

The scream. The lapwing turns as quickly as it always does, but as I make another desperate dive forward, Kotengu dives from up above and lands squarely on its eyes. The lapwing screams again, this time stopping on its tracks as it stumbles and tries to shoo away my raven.

The bird himself has gone to find me another round of fruit.

Chance!

I run, as fast as I can, until I'm beyond the lapwing's pouncing distance. The creature seems to hear my footsteps, but with the hard echoing around here—and with its eyes out of the equation—it seems to have a harder time focusing on me. Normally, most predators would just give up here; sometimes, adapting to sudden changes like the loss of their eyesight gives them better chance at surviving. At least that's what I've seen so far on wild animals that occasionally come around and fight near the village.

But then I learn just how aggressive the great lapwing really is.

It finds footing with its venomous spur, and once its screaming stops, it tries again to find where my noises come from. Its head bobs right and left, tilting and twisting around as if testing the distances of where my noises came from. Out of breath, I hurriedly load the fruit Kotengu gave me.

Please work this time.

I barely manage a mutter as I start swinging my sling, repeating the sentence like forcing the Tree to hear my prayer, asking the sun to light me the way, begging the wind to make it happen.

Round, and around, and around.

Last time I released, the swing felt like it was facing forward ... maybe I'll time it differently. I'll have to gauge the distance between me and the lapwing, feel the weight of the fruit as it swings, maintain the spin....

Round, and around....

I've got nothing left but hope for the best. I know Kotengu will return with another fruit, but I don't know when. The moment I sling my fruit, I'll be entirely without weapon.

Round....

Here goes nothing.

I relax one finger.

The tripvine slips, and the fruit slings away.

SPLAT.

Unlike my first slinging, this one hits a lot harder.

Unlike my first slinging, this one hits.

The fruit disappears from view, and promptly reappears in pieces—on the shoulder joint of the bird's left wing.

The lapwing stumbles forth. It seems to connect too late with the fact that its left wing is broken, screeching as it fails to put one step next to the other, grunting as its hindlegs catch up with its front, and finally makes a spectacular roll as its run entirely fails.

Its speed betrays its own body, because I can hear its beak crack as its head drags on the ground.

The bird tumbles, and stumbles, and rolls with its broken bones and beaks and finally comes to an embarrassing stop a few forearms away from me.

I stand there frozen for a good second. Maybe two. Maybe three, I don't know. I still can't believe my eyes as the creature twitches, growling in a much lower, guttural tone. That ... that thing is still very much alive, but its left wing is undeniably unmovable. Not with a joint that looks like that. Not with its upper arm bending and twisting in the wrong directions.

Even with its head on the ground, the bird's eyes lock on me. It grunts and growls again, panting hard, as if trying to tell me that its hunt for me isn't over.

Kawk!

Another fruit drops in my hand.

It's my chance. If I want to end this bird once and for all, this is it. At this distance, there's no way I can miss. I still remember how my sling felt like when I relaxed the tripvine string—the moments everything fell into slow motion, everything became clear as the skies to me. I still remember how I need to swing, how fast I need to spin. I still remember when to release where I aim. The next time I make my shot, I won't miss—not even if the fruit is a little lighter or heavier. My fingers vividly know how to use the sling.

If I make that bone-breaking throw again, at this distance, to its head, I can end its misery right now.

I stare again into those eyes. No change there. It still stubbornly believes the hunt is on.

The moment my wing works again, I'll come after you!

I should know. I've seen those eyes before.

Akashi had that exact look on her face for the past six years. Whenever I made it my race to get to the articularium after school before she could get to me, whenever she thought she could let me get a head start for my run because she knew her wings would always let her fly faster than my legs could ever take me.

Oboro had that exact look on his face for the past five years. He was the first to find what Akashi did to be entertaining, and the first to lend her a hand. He had always been close with Akashi and Gekka, but he probably decided one day Akashi was onto something when she found the brilliant idea to play hunt with me.

Benimaru had that exact look on his face for the past five years. His silence meant nothing when he was always at Akashi's beck and call, and apparently Gekka accidentally knocking me back with the winds from her wing flap was more than enough reason for him to one day decide to participate in hunting me. He would not stop since.

Gekka never had those eyes, but that knockback apparently locked her position since long ago—a position she was clearly intent on never giving up.

The moment my wing works again, I'll come after you!

Gekka.

Oboro.

Benimaru.

Akashi.

I load the last fruit and start swinging my sling. Round, and around, and around, because this time, I won't let this bird look at me with those eyes ever again.

*

The sun had begun setting when the cold winds started blowing in, and I realized that this night would not be as kind as the last.

I've asked Kotengu to collect some more fruits for me. I don't have anything to keep them with me, but if I keep one between my fingers as I run, I'd be able to bring four at a time (since I need the other hand to bring the sling). I need as many as I can bring. The lapwing allowed me to prove that the sling works as a weapon, but I still don't know how far I can shoot while still dealing enough hurt. I also need time to prepare it: I must load the fruit onto the sheet, spin the thing a few times with enough speed while aiming for one spot, and swing while releasing one vine on time before the sling can change 'fruit' to 'broken bones'.

It's definitely not something as fast as a simple fist, for example. With a fist, I just need to take a stance—basically any position that keeps my body in good balance—and throw my entire body weight. With the sling, not only do I need more steps to prepare, I also need something to sling. I need the fruits. I will depend entirely on Kotengu for this, especially if I fight bigger or faster dangers, since I'll need to dodge a lot and make sure I don't die before I get to use the sling.

Maybe if I had something I can use in close quarters....

The Karura use spears, sharpened sticks. They are mass-produced on the pluck of Kunoi Village, where the Karura headquarters are stationed, according to the juhi tablet I read. I'd love to have sharpened sticks like that.

But the tablets didn't mention anything about how the spears were made. And even if they did, the spears are said to be exceptionally sharp because their heads were made of a special material that were specially sharpened; I don't have anything at hand to help with either of those.

So now, not only am I stuck with a weapon with a lot of drawbacks, I'm also struggling with cover for the first time because the groove in the tree trunk isn't enough to help cover me from the cold wind. Even with the sun disappearing into the Cloud Blanket out in the horizon, there's still no sign of a moon appearing on the sky. The night before this was a moonless night, and before that was a blue-yellow night ... with this biting cold, I'd guess that tonight should be a red moon's night, and she shouldn't be at her brightest.

A red moon's night is somewhat more annoying than an entirely moonless night. Most animals are afraid of the moonless night, even nightcrawlers. Only a few animals really see in the pure dark—without this ability, one wrong step can cause you to fall from the Tree. There's no ground beneath the Tree for all we know. It's not a fall you simply recover from. With this in mind, the majority of even nightcrawlers of the darkest places would much prefer not to try and find prey in the darkness, no matter how hungry they were that night—their odds would be much better near the following morning. The juhi told that old villages used to light torches every night in the early days we learned to use fire, but decided to stop doing that because it attracted hungry beasts.

Unlike moonless nights, the red moon gives just enough visibility—the winged people don't particularly like it, but several dangerous night creatures do. The great lapwing loves red moon's nights. The cyocalus likes red moon's nights, even though they mostly wake during the day. The red moon is as dark as a lit-up night gets, meaning nightcrawlers who are comfortable with the dark can roam about, while those less inclined for it, even fellow nightcrawlers, are in danger.

On one hand, these creatures are usually the smaller predators—operating in the darkness gives them a freedom of movement they couldn't have enjoyed with bigger predators hunting them from above. On the other hand, some particularly aggressive predators, like the great lapwing, simply didn't care about how dark it gets, because blood is blood and flesh is flesh just the same.

This one I knew not from the juhi, but because back in Takamatsu Village, the winged men usually don't sleep during red moon's nights. They would band together and patrol the village until the sky starts turning violet. Those particularly aggressive predators? They don't make winged children an exception. Blood is blood, and flesh is flesh just the same.

Apart from the dangerous predators, red moon's nights are also usually very cold. The Tree is a windy place—it's how many of the winged beasts take their flight since young, and it's how fire keeps burning on woods we pick apart from the Tree—but winds on red moon's nights are especially cold. Often colder than moonless nights, even. I don't know why. The school only told me as much, and the juhi didn't explain beyond that, either.

So I need a way to keep myself warm that does not involve starting fires. Something to fight the winds, something that isn't bright, but something that keeps me safe.

... I can still find some tripvines, I think. I can tie up some larger leaves with them. I can make something big enough to cover my whole body when I sleep, something to help give me the scent of the trees around here, something that's heavy enough it doesn't easily get blown away by the night winds. This calls for Kotengu's help.

Meaning Kotengu will have to risk himself in the dark....

Ugh. I don't like this. Like the winged people, I don't see particularly well in red moon's nights, but it's not like I'm entirely without sight, I suppose? Not to mention that certain leaves are very reflective of all moonlight. As long as I follow those, maybe I can at least see what's around me. Just enough to navigate.

The sun is disappearing. We have to act fast.

"Kotengu," I call. The raven perches nearby and caws. "Let's grab some tripvines. And some big leaves. I'll try and help you."

If we make it through this night, we can collect more fruits for my sling. That shouldn't be too hard. For now, I'll use these to help protect Kotengu should anything happen.

I look behind me. Nothing new there.

With the last hints of violet light, we dive deeper into the Tree.

Kotengu flies fast, as if he feels my urgency. Maybe he does. He likely does. The red moon should rise in a few more hours, after the sun is entirely gone, so there will be a period of pitch-black darkness that should stupefy all creatures. We need to get what we need to get before that happens.

That said, catching up to him proves to be more of a challenge than I thought in the darker sky. I can barely see my own footing, and the sky keeps getting darker by the second.

There. The tree with the tripvines. I decided yesterday that I shouldn't need to take too much, but maybe I was wrong.

"I'm sorry," I whisper as I drag the vines by their roots.

The stars are appearing. The light over horizon is on its death throes, and as I and Kotengu hurry over to find the leaves I need to weave, darkness has crept over the depths of the Tree. There's still a place with somewhat more visible light—the outer rings of the Tree—but I don't know how long this will last.

I pick one large leaf. Then another. Then another—ugh, tree sap. Is this poisonous? I don't have time to worry about that, so I just throw that leaf away and snap another.

Then we hurry back to the groove where I make camp, and I start working. I poke holes on the edges of the leaves with my finger, then I slip one end of the tripvine, twisting it around the hole, then doing the same over another leaf. And again. And again. And—

Finally, darkness envelops the Tree.

I clutch my half-finished leaf blanket. I know that the leaves won't hurt my skin, at least, and I know that I tied up enough of the leaves with the tripvines that I can maybe cover my legs, but that's as far as I managed to get.

All I know now is that I truly can't see anything. Not even the hands in front of my own face, not even the legs I cover with the half-finished blanket I just made, and most especially not Kotengu, who just blended into the pitch blackness of the night.

My legs. I hug myself again as another gust of wind blows by, but as I expected, the blanket is heavy enough. My shoulders would be freezing cold after this, and I'll probably have a whole coughing fit when I wake up tomorrow, but at least my legs will stay warm. It should be good enough for just one night.

So, with the leaf blanket covering my legs, I lean onto the groove and shut my eyes, hoping the faces that visit at night would be slightly kinder than the usual.

Just this night. Please.

*

I am awakened by an unmistakable sound of rustling.

Rhythmic, consistent rustling.

Had it been the normal whistling of the wind, not even the trees would make this kind of noise. That, and my sleep hasn't exactly been the soundest tonight. I just can't help but wake up.

I stretch a little, making sure that my body is good to move, and try to get up as soundlessly as I can. "Kotengu," I whisper. I hear a softer sound of wing flaps from above—the bird's up there. Good.

Carefully, I take a step outside the groove. The bulbous red moon is hanging up there in the sky, shining a very faint glow. Faint, but at least enough to help me look at where I can step. I need to get my eyes used to the darkness more quickly.

Another rustling.

I take a deep breath, and pick up my sling along with the fruits. I don't know what comes, but I feel safer having something to defend myself with. Just a little.

My heart beats out of my chest. I wait for a little, but no other noise pops.

One more careful step. Still nothing.

The soft red hue on the surface of everything grows slightly brighter, which should mean that my eyes are getting more used to the darkness. I can start recognizing places where the blackness feels much deeper, places that are probably deep holes that I shouldn't step into.

Kotengu makes a very loud flap, and his noise disappears into the depths of the dark—probably scouting for danger. He must've caught on to my anxiety from the rustling.

I wince at the thought of Kotengu putting himself in danger again, but frankly, he sees through the dark better than I do. If anything, I'd be able to feel his emotions if he does come across something dangerous. I hate to admit it, but this isn't a fight I can handle—I need Kotengu to do what he does best. Hopefully nothing goes wrong.

And another rustling.

I can almost feel my ears perking up. I rarely ever looked at the amber mirror in my house, but I know that my ears are short and rounded, unlike the winged people's longer, sharper ears. That said, we tend to react to similar sounds, so I don't think we hear things that differently.

I quickly load one fruit to the sling, and wait.

That last rustle sounded much closer than the first two, but with the wind blowing everywhere at all times, it's hard to tell where the rustling really came from—or if it really came from an animal at all. In fact, apart from the louder-than-most rustling, there's really no sign of anything else around me. The pitch-red darkness does not help.

Then, out of nowhere, fear.

I did not even get the chance to process the emotion flooding my mind. The red around me suddenly brightens, as if the sun had risen with the same shade as the bulbous moon, as if the horizon dyed everything in the same shade of color. The crimson blasts into my eyes like a bird of prey snatching with her claws, breaking into my mind with the tenacity of a diving kite. It was an evil scarlet that forces my heart to thump beyond control, my breathing to quicken and my muscles to stiffen, a splatter of bloodied frenzy that makes everything seem like a blur. The cold bites me in my arms, but I can feel beads of sweat on my skin, ignoring the temperature of the night, making me shiver, making me shake, thrusting me deeper and deeper into the freezing gusts of unstopping winds that blow each and every leaf on every tree in my surroundings so that I couldn't tell apart what sound comes from where—

And another rustling.

I look back.

In front of me, bathed in such sinister red, is a face of the most monstrous form.

I scream. I cannot seem to see where its beady eyes stare, but I can feel it looking at me, perversely watching my actions. I cannot tell where its nose begins and where the nostrils end—any hint of shape on the nose all blur into unholy folds of flesh, nakedly on display, as if it forgets how a face should look like. It has fangs, many of them, but I could never seem to count the sharp edges that seem to burrow and break into one another, and as if to confuse its shape even further, its two large ears flap around as if they are wings, trying to make itself fly.

No. I was wrong. Those are clearly its ears, because behind it, folded but visible, are wings made of unembellished skin—each one longer than I am tall.

I fail to remember anything I had on me—not my blanket, not my sling, and not the fruits that I seem to squeeze into nothingness as I drain my lungs with an unending screech.

What I registered from Kotengu was not fear. It was panic, plain and simple, and my body finally reacts to it right now.

I run.

Not another word. Not another intake of breath. With whatever remains that my body can pump out, my entire body goes out of my control. I run.

My entire body shakes as if I were on my dying throes. My lungs are begging to be refilled. My head forgets to make sense of things, and my eyes forget to see. I run.

My legs stumble. I pick myself up. I run.

The wind blows harder onto me. I run.

I can hear the vague flapping of wings somewhere above me.

I run.

I run, I run, and I run, leaving nothing to chance. I run, because for all I care, my life depends on it. I run because my body knows that only one thing can save my life—and that's if I run.

So I run.

I run, I run, and I run.

It's only when I start seeing stars again that I realize that I've only been screaming as I run away, not even drawing a single breath. Not even a look back. Not even when my chest feels like it's fighting the crushing embrace of a cyocalus. So I take a breath. And I look back, making sure the monster with the horrible face doesn't follow me.

And I don't stop running. That's why I fail to notice the notable lack of light right in front of me.

I take a step straight into it, and I trip.

What I thought was a small crack turns out to be a deep, dark crevice that leads further down the Tree.

When did I even get here?

I notice too late that I've lost my footing when, in the middle of the crimson night, I Fall under for the second time in my life.

*