Instinct

Featuring Amadán and Ceart (NPC)

Spring, Year 757 of the New Age

Oakfern, Overground

    They were outside. So many smells, so many sounds, so many sights -- sights! Not just shapes in the mundane, endless cavern darkness, or  glowing outlines of their herdmates. Plantlife… Grass, shrubs, trees…  How tall the trees were!... And little critters of the night, strange  birds and rodents and insects Amadán had never seen… And --

     “Gealach!”

      Amadán’s wonder was unpleasantly interrupted by the joyful squeal of  his brother. He glared at little Ceart over his shoulder, his eyes wide  and mouth gaping as he stared at the massive full moon above.

    “Shhh!” Amadán hissed.

    Ceart quickly shut his mouth and looked at Amadán attentively.

    “Do you want somebody to h-hear us?” Amadán continued. “Mom would be f-f-furious! And if a guard found us… Let’s just say…”

    The buck circled back to whisper right in Ceart’s ear.

    “You’ll be the s-star of the next sacrifice!”

    Ceart shuddered and shoved his brother away. 

    “Nuh-uh!”  Ceart shook his head and straightened up, steeling his bravest face.  “Only Oathbreaker fawns are sacrificed, like the outsiders, or--”

    “Rule-breaking insiders,” Amadán said smugly. It was only a half-truth, but it was fun messing with his kid brother; he didn’t really believe that they’d be killed for sneaking out.

    Little Ceart just huffed impatiently.

    “Then let’s go while we still have time!”

    Looming  above them was the only reason the pair had the chance to slip away at  all: the regular fawn sacrifice under the full moon. Amadán had never  seen the moon so clearly. His mother didn’t permit them to attend; she  felt it too graphic for their young eyes. Amadán had often protested  that he was old enough, now, to see his herd’s sacred ritual, but in  truth, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

    Amadán led the way, of course, being the older brother.

    “Oakferns didn’t used to live underg-g-ground,” he said smartly, narrating as they wandered.  “They once r-roamed the surface without fear, like it belonged to them…”  Amadán jumped up on a moss-covered stump. “...because it did!”

    Ceart rolled his eyes.

    “I know,” he drawled. “And then the Oathbreakers chased them underground, blah blah blah…”

 “You’re m-missing the point!”

    Amadán jumped down to land right in front of him. Ceart flinched but quickly recovered to give him a reproachful look.

    “We  have to walk f-f-fearlessly!” Amadán announced. “The jungle knows your  fear! If you act like you own it, e-e-every creature will b-bow to you.”

    They  pushed onward. Ceart rolled the idea around in his head, and watched  his brother up ahead. Amadán practically marched; his head was high, his  ears were forward, and his knees were elevated with each step. Silently  Ceart attempted to mimic him, though every now and then he slipped, not  used to the gnarled fauna in their path.

    “Brave  explorers head into the world with p-purpose!” Amadán said. “They are  kings, strolling th-through their own kingdom! They have c-c-courage in  their hearts, and in their whole body, they have… have…”

    He couldn't seem to find the right word.
     "Dignity," his brother offered smartly. Amadán gave him a cross look.
    "That's what I was going to say," he insisted. "My stutter just held it back."
     "Sure," Ceart said, a smug smile sneaking over his face.

    There  was a sound, then. The snap of a twig, maybe. A simple thing, in a  forest full of diverse creatures all pushing to make their songs and  shufflings in the night. But it somehow rose above the din, and in that  moment permanently burned itself in Amadán’s mind.
     It all happened in one split second.

    The  beast erupted from the shadow, as if it were apart of it. It slammed  Ceart into the ground as if he were nothing but a soft mushroom of flesh  and bone; his body stood no chance to do anything but collapse around  the jaguar’s massive paws. He was but an insect under its toes.
     And Amadán. He acted all in one split second, too.
      He didn't push Ceart out of the way, or try to fight off the beast,  or any other helpless, hopeless act of courage; instead, Amadán turned  on his heels and hurled himself in the opposite direction as hard as he  could.
 Amadán didn't know he was heading back towards the caves, just that he was heading in the right direction: away from danger. His legs, usually so uncoordinated,  unpredictable, and untrustworthy, were moving over the dense jungle  ground with newfound agility. Every movement was made with purpose.  Every step was driven by an intense urgency boiling through his veins.  It was out of his control; every sense was overpowered by desperation,  some distant part of his brain he’d never met, slamming him into  overdrive.
      He didn’t think. He couldn’t. All he could interpret was flying  through the jungle with the single need to keep going, faster, faster,  far away -- and the shrill sounds, as if he were underwater, muffled by  terror, of Ceart screaming his name.

    Until it was silent.