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loloteheI ran with my kindred: fleet-footed, fleet-footed
The moon trembled overhead
See my teeth now, so dull and unused
How much sharper was the past!
--“Love Defanged” by Swann and Leon.
Octavia was able to sleep through the first of the explosions. Once they came within three kilometers of the house, she woke up.
Jorando was sleeping soundly and it took quite a few shakes to rouse him. As he dressed, Octavia slipped into the boy's room and woke them.
“Get dressed. We're going outside for a bit.”
Euterpe was already awake and packing a quick-bag when Octavia came into her room.
“Do you think the Toshdohai will remember their promise?” she asked her mother.
“I think the Toshdohai will remember what they want to,” Octavia told her.
The ground was still warm when the family slunk out of the house and into the dark. Jorando held the two boys close to him as they wove through the orchard towards the river. It was only a few hundred meters left to go.
There were men waiting by the boat. They drank from bottles—throwing the empties into the rushing water—and laughing.
All of them had guns.
Octavia wasn't worried about herself. She knew that if it came to that, she could dodge out of the way easily enough. She worried about Jorando.
She worried about the children.
Unfortunately, there were more men than those by the boat. The family was circled and in the dark, it was hard to tell how many there really were.
One of the boys suddenly jumped to the right.
The other jumped to the left.
Octavia felt the old instinct take over. The balls of her feet were on fire and she was leaping, jumping, dodging from side to side, close to the men with the guns, ready to disarm.
She had a gun in her hands and threw it into the river. There were still three more guns to capture.
A splash and she knew another gun had been picked away and tossed into the murky dark. Two more, now.
She could not see Euterpe, but heard an ompf and a splash and knew that there was only one gun left to remove from the party. She had to find it, and quickly. She could not see the boys or Euterpe, but knew it was only a matter of time.
And she missed it.
Octavia missed moving that quickly. It was a sudden rush of her youth, balancing on the balls of her feet and the rush as her muscles sprang from one position to the other. As dangerous as it was, she reveled in the quick action and the befuddled, half-lit looks of the men by the boat.
It was was she was meant to do.
The final gun was pointed at Jorando's head. The father had not been quick enough to get out of the way.
“Come out, little lightning bugs,” the man said.
Octacvia, Euterpe, and the two boys were suddenly still. Harsh hands grasped them and shoved them into kneeling positions.
“Used to catch them in jars,” someone said. “They always died.”
“Loyalists,” someone else spat. “Let them die.”
The safety on the gun was unlatched.
Octavia contorted her face into a firm grimace: her jaws tight and lips stretched. She shut her eyes.
Euterpe looked at her mother a moment and made the same face.
The boys, excited at first, but now terrified, made the same face their mother and sister did.
Jorando saw the pained faces of his family and wept. This was the end. His entire family was about to be massacred in the mud, meters from escape.
He could not hear the sound they were making.
But the Toshdohai could.
It felt like a strong wind, carrying debris, as it rushed past them. Jorando hugged his sons close, covering their eyes and ears. The strongest wind he had ever felt, and his sons, pressed into his chest, to protect them from whatever horrible thing would happen.
Euterpe took her mother's hand and looked to where the mighty wind had blown.
At night, in the dark, it's very hard to see something like this. Imagine a tornado at night, as it rips away the lights and any signs of civilization. Maybe you see a small bit as a light is torn away from its source. What you see, however, is nothing compared to what you hear.
It's a rush. The air is heavy with a loud buzz; and then, there's a high-pitched scream when the air tears past you. It's like a train with a siren and you never, but never, forget that sound. It makes you cry when you hear it because it's so terrifying. It's everywhere at once and you can't escape it. It throbs against your ears and you feel it in your bones. It's not a sound you hear as much as you feel it. Put your hands against your ears and then, rapidly, move them away and back. You feel that? A whump whump whump against your brain.
A sound Euterpe would never forget. An actual Toshdohai attack. The thing every inhabitant of Leonis-87 feared.
There was a cloud of Tosdohai. They were hard to see in the dark, but their effect was unforgettable.
The man with the gun slowly turned into a cloud.
Maybe the throb of the swarm was the only thing Euterpe wanted to remember. It was easier to remember than the screams that increased in pitch until they were nothing more than gurgles. Somehow, the sound of the swarm made more sense.
Don't ever ask someone to remember a sound that makes no sense.
Jorando was holding the boys tight to his chest, his own eyes shut tight against the...reduction... he was witnessing. Octavia grasped Euterpe's arm tight and tried to pull her daughter away from the increasingly misty sight before her.
Less than a minute later, there were no other men. There was only a wet patch of grass and the boat, unharmed, in the water.
The sound of the Toshdohai swarm lifted and the family made its way, warily, to the boat in the river. The oars had been left intact.
The moon trembled overhead
See my teeth now, so dull and unused
How much sharper was the past!
--“Love Defanged” by Swann and Leon.
Octavia was able to sleep through the first of the explosions. Once they came within three kilometers of the house, she woke up.
Jorando was sleeping soundly and it took quite a few shakes to rouse him. As he dressed, Octavia slipped into the boy's room and woke them.
“Get dressed. We're going outside for a bit.”
Euterpe was already awake and packing a quick-bag when Octavia came into her room.
“Do you think the Toshdohai will remember their promise?” she asked her mother.
“I think the Toshdohai will remember what they want to,” Octavia told her.
The ground was still warm when the family slunk out of the house and into the dark. Jorando held the two boys close to him as they wove through the orchard towards the river. It was only a few hundred meters left to go.
There were men waiting by the boat. They drank from bottles—throwing the empties into the rushing water—and laughing.
All of them had guns.
Octavia wasn't worried about herself. She knew that if it came to that, she could dodge out of the way easily enough. She worried about Jorando.
She worried about the children.
Unfortunately, there were more men than those by the boat. The family was circled and in the dark, it was hard to tell how many there really were.
One of the boys suddenly jumped to the right.
The other jumped to the left.
Octavia felt the old instinct take over. The balls of her feet were on fire and she was leaping, jumping, dodging from side to side, close to the men with the guns, ready to disarm.
She had a gun in her hands and threw it into the river. There were still three more guns to capture.
A splash and she knew another gun had been picked away and tossed into the murky dark. Two more, now.
She could not see Euterpe, but heard an ompf and a splash and knew that there was only one gun left to remove from the party. She had to find it, and quickly. She could not see the boys or Euterpe, but knew it was only a matter of time.
And she missed it.
Octavia missed moving that quickly. It was a sudden rush of her youth, balancing on the balls of her feet and the rush as her muscles sprang from one position to the other. As dangerous as it was, she reveled in the quick action and the befuddled, half-lit looks of the men by the boat.
It was was she was meant to do.
The final gun was pointed at Jorando's head. The father had not been quick enough to get out of the way.
“Come out, little lightning bugs,” the man said.
Octacvia, Euterpe, and the two boys were suddenly still. Harsh hands grasped them and shoved them into kneeling positions.
“Used to catch them in jars,” someone said. “They always died.”
“Loyalists,” someone else spat. “Let them die.”
The safety on the gun was unlatched.
Octavia contorted her face into a firm grimace: her jaws tight and lips stretched. She shut her eyes.
Euterpe looked at her mother a moment and made the same face.
The boys, excited at first, but now terrified, made the same face their mother and sister did.
Jorando saw the pained faces of his family and wept. This was the end. His entire family was about to be massacred in the mud, meters from escape.
He could not hear the sound they were making.
But the Toshdohai could.
It felt like a strong wind, carrying debris, as it rushed past them. Jorando hugged his sons close, covering their eyes and ears. The strongest wind he had ever felt, and his sons, pressed into his chest, to protect them from whatever horrible thing would happen.
Euterpe took her mother's hand and looked to where the mighty wind had blown.
At night, in the dark, it's very hard to see something like this. Imagine a tornado at night, as it rips away the lights and any signs of civilization. Maybe you see a small bit as a light is torn away from its source. What you see, however, is nothing compared to what you hear.
It's a rush. The air is heavy with a loud buzz; and then, there's a high-pitched scream when the air tears past you. It's like a train with a siren and you never, but never, forget that sound. It makes you cry when you hear it because it's so terrifying. It's everywhere at once and you can't escape it. It throbs against your ears and you feel it in your bones. It's not a sound you hear as much as you feel it. Put your hands against your ears and then, rapidly, move them away and back. You feel that? A whump whump whump against your brain.
A sound Euterpe would never forget. An actual Toshdohai attack. The thing every inhabitant of Leonis-87 feared.
There was a cloud of Tosdohai. They were hard to see in the dark, but their effect was unforgettable.
The man with the gun slowly turned into a cloud.
Maybe the throb of the swarm was the only thing Euterpe wanted to remember. It was easier to remember than the screams that increased in pitch until they were nothing more than gurgles. Somehow, the sound of the swarm made more sense.
Don't ever ask someone to remember a sound that makes no sense.
Jorando was holding the boys tight to his chest, his own eyes shut tight against the...reduction... he was witnessing. Octavia grasped Euterpe's arm tight and tried to pull her daughter away from the increasingly misty sight before her.
Less than a minute later, there were no other men. There was only a wet patch of grass and the boat, unharmed, in the water.
The sound of the Toshdohai swarm lifted and the family made its way, warily, to the boat in the river. The oars had been left intact.
