Lessons

"Fyn- you have to listen to me-"

"Mother, hold on!"

"I don't know if I can. The pull's too strong… listen. Take care of your little sister, Fyn. Do you understand? Keep her out of harm's way for me! If your father's out there-"

"I will mother. I will. Just please hold on!"

"I'm trying, Fyn, but-"

"Mother!"

The orange, still-moving shape of a longneck thrashing amongst the waves faded ever farther into darkness as the sound of angry water lashing itself mercilessly at the land grew to a deafening roar. Then the last flicker of orange disappeared.

And silence reigned supreme again.

…

`Fyn gasped sharply, his head snapping up from the ground and into a tree branch. The impact startled him further, but he barely noticed the pain. Chest heaving and eyes wide, he lay frozen, almost paralyzed, staring into space.

"Night terror?'

As his breathing slowed, Fyn cautiously turned his head around. Zaura, his sister, stood behind him, a look of concern on her face.

"Yeah, about Mom," he groaned, pushing himself to his feet and feeling the pent-up tension from sleep leave his muscles as he stretched- probably his favorite part of the morning's routine.

"Ah, I see," Zaura mumbled thoughtfully, deciding not to press the subject. Her older brother's dream about their mother was recurring, and one that thankfully she hadn't experienced herself- likely because she'd been too young to remember anything concrete about the circumstances surrounding their mother's death. Fyn apparently did still remember, and lately, for whatever reason, it was eating at him, at least on a subconscious level. It was hard to see him, ragged and tired like this, but Zaura knew there was only so much she could do to help her brother. His past was his past. Dealing with it, in the end, would come down to his own efforts.

Squinting through the thick tree canopy, Fyn took note of the Bright Circle's position. It was almost midday, and suddenly he realized that something was off…

"Wait a minute- Zaura, aren't you supposed to be meeting with prospective mates today?"

Zaura visibly shuddered at the question. As adopted daughter of the herd's leader, Garas, she was under a lot of pressure to choose a mate from the herd's best males, especially as she grew ever closer to the verge of adulthood. Frankly the thought terrified her, but she rarely ever let the males see that. To them, she was simply a very stubborn, yet very desirable female Sailneck. And an influential one at that.

"Noooo" she muttered slyly, "that wasn't today. And if you know what's good for you, I think you'll agree."

Rolling his eyes, Fyn closed his mouth around a tree branch, dragging it back and reaping a few leaves into his gullet. This was hardly uncharacteristic of Zaura- rebelling against their adopted father, herd leader Garas, was something of a game with her. Maybe it was her age, or maybe she just didn't trust him. Either way, Garas didn't like it much, and while Fyn liked his sister, it was often up to him to warn her when enough was enough.

"Anyway," Zaura said as she lifter her head up alongside Fyn's to grab some leaves of her own," I'd really rather get out and cool off at the waterfall. Looks like it's going to be a hot day."

"Zaura, you will do no such thing."

The sound of crashing vegetation and thundering footsteps marked the entrance of Garas as he tromped through the underbrush, beating down the well worn path to the clearing he and the two younger Sailnecks called home. He stopped, fixing his sharp gaze on Zaura, and the sharp spines on his neck and back only served to make him even more intimidating.

"Garas please," Zaura insisted, "I don't want to-"

"There are no less than fourteen strapping young Sailnecks in the gathering place wondering where the esteemed Zaura is," Garas snapped, "I thought you told me you wouldn't run away anymore."

"But I'm not ready!" Zaura pleaded, "and besides- I don't like any of them!"

"Do you think I-" Garas' voice began to rise, but he stopped himself, sighing.

"Zaura, please. Do this for me. You don't have to choose today, just at least humor me by giving them a chance. Will you do that for me?"

Zaura stared her superior down, head bent to the ground, nostrils flared, and brow furrowed, and for a moment, Fyn thought she would charge the larger Sailneck. Instead, she pulled her head away and closed her eyes, slowing her breathing down.

"Fine," she whispered. "I'll go."

"We'll speak later," Garas said as Zaura disappeared into the foliage. The female Sailneck said nothing; she didn't even turn her head back to acknowledge that he'd spoken. Garas shook his head as the sound of her footsteps faded away.

"She's her father, in female form," he chuckled to Fyn as the young Longneck finished his meal, "stubborn, proud, independent. That was your dad, too."

Fyn nodded, gulping down his last mouthful of leaves. The bittersweet juices tickled the back of his throat, and he shuddered pleasantly.

"She'll grow up soon enough though," Garas added, "we all do. In fact, Fyn, I'm thinking today might be the right time to set you on your own path to adulthood."

Fyn looked confused, and Garas could hardly blame him for it. Poor kid, really. Lost his mother shortly after his father had… His father. Thank goodness he'd been able to keep Fyn cautious and sensible for this long. There was barely a trace of the young Sailneck's father in his blood anymore. Zaura on the other hand… perhaps finding her a mate was all it would take. He grimaced briefly as he remembered the Sailneck, how he'd almost brought down the entire herd with his foolish ideals. No, Fyn would grow to be a sensible leader. A feared leader perhaps, if he was lucky, but one in control of his herd. Today that training would begin.

"I know you never thought your destiny would follow mine, Fyn, but you know I have no other sons," Garas said, pacing, "and it's almost time for me to begin training a new leader. You know how a leader is selected, correct? I know I've taught you this before."

"Well yeah," Fyn said, crossing his front legs together anxiously, "the leader selects the first of his sons and begins to train him when he… comes of age." At the conclusion of his words, Fyn slowly looked up at Garas in sudden realization.

"Wait…" he said, stammering as Garas looked on in amusement, "wait a moment, you can't really mean- but I'm not your son!"

"No, not in blood, true," Garas nodded thoughtfully, "but I have no true blood son, and I've been your guardian since you were young. Therefore, I consider you a worthy candidate. So what do you say, Fyn? Will you take me as your mentor, too?"

Fyn bit the inside of his mouth, trying to find the right words. This entire offer had come completely out of the blue. Herd leader was a role he'd never expected to take on before. Could he do it? He thought back over the years, how often he'd jumped at his own shadows, how terrified he'd been of pain, and his decidedly awkward social presence. But before he could open his mouth to refuse, he thought about the last words of his mother, just before the currents of the Big Water swallowed her whole.

Take care of your little sister, Fyn.

Care. Isn't that what being a leader was all about? If Zaura could take a leap forward and accept a mate in her life, there was no reason he couldn't be a herd leader. Fyn squared his jaw, looked Garas straight in the eye, and for the first time in his life, felt not a shred of apprehension.

"I'll do it."

"Good," Garas said, turning around and heading in the direction that Zaura had left, "then meet me at the Field of Jumping Water. Your training begins there."

…

Zaura frowned as she neared the clearing, which was by now densely packed with nervous, chattering males and a few females in assorted states of either intimidation or boredom. She was pretty sure that by now, the hormones in the air were so thick she could've cut them with one sweep of her tail. But that was an experiment best left aside.

Upon her entering the clearing, the males immediately stopped what they were doing and fell silent. It was no secret to her as to why. She was the grand prize, as it were. Winning her attention would immediately grant the victor status in the herd as part of the leader's family.

Unfortunately for them, I'm not interested, Zaura thought, positioning herself opposite the others and standing still, turning her head away in an expression of disinterest. Not this time anyway.

Slowly, cautiously, several males began to approach. Some even left several females behind, who retreated to the edge of the clearing, scowling at Zaura. She couldn't help but feel sorry for them, but she had a job to do, and as easy as it was to say she could defy her adopted father, actually doing it was much more difficult.

"Good… good morning, Zaura," the first male to approach said. He was tall, vibrant, probably a good choice for a mate in all honesty. Timid, perhaps, but a good choice.

"Hi" she replied, flatly. The male gulped and stepped back a bit. Seeing his discomfort, Zaura took her chance.

"Kindly remove your face from my proximity. If you think I'm interested, you're sorely mistaken."

"Ah, yes ma'am," the male said, beating a hasty retreat. Noting this rejection, the rest of the males hung back, wary. Putting on an aloof demeanor, Zaura trotted over towards the rest of the females.

"They're all yours," she said with a wink. The females were not amused, and their icy stares made Zaura realize just how patronizing her words had been. She frowned as they left her side, mingling once more with the males.

She really should've been in there with them, she knew, after all the Day of Mates was a tremendous celebration, and an important step in a young adult's life. She'd skipped it altogether last year, and was pretty much obligated to show up this time around. It's not that the prospective of bonding with another Sailneck for life scared her- it was just that without any family other than Fyn, she felt kind of responsible for him. If she took a mate, they'd be separated, and she just wasn't sure she was ready.

With a shake of her head, Zaura dismissed a younger male who was cracking his tail, shaking his body from side to side. The eager Sailneck was attempting a mating dance, and had clearly not gotten the hint that she wasn't interested. Disappointed, he hung his head and went back to the crowd.
"Maybe next year, bud," she said under her breath, relaxing her legs and laying down on the soft grass. As she was about to close her eyes and begin basking in the mid-day sun, she caught someone else across the clearing doing the same- another male. Only he didn't seem bored so much as dejected. Looking around, Zaura made sure the coast was clear before doing anything- she had a reputation to keep after all. Positive that no one was watching, she made her way to the Sailneck and laid down next to him.

"Sup," she said, evenly.

"Uh, hi," the Sailneck said, timidly. "are… are you here to…"

Zaura let out a loud "ha!" then closed her mouth quickly as the male's head sank down.

"Er, no. Sorry. But that's not because of you!" she quickly added, "I'm just not interested in picking up a mate this year. I'm actually kinda wondering why you aren't out there with everyone else."

The male let his head down on the grass with a long sigh. "Well, I simply don't see the point. I highly doubt anyone's going to notice me. What do I have to offer to a prospective mate?"

Sounds a lot like Fyn, Zaura thought, guiltily, he and my brother would probably get along well. Timid and self-conscious were hardly good traits to have when looking for a mate, and just sitting here wasn't going to get him far.

She looked him over briefly, with a discerning eye, as if considering him for a prospective mate. Everything checked out- he looked healthy, with good coloration in his sail and spines, and he was built solidly enough. He was hardly alpha material, but he wasn't bad by any stretch.

"I don't see why you're worried," she said, "I'd probably give you a chance."

The male's head snapped up quickly, surprised.

"If I was looking for one," Zaura added quickly. No need to give him any ideas right now.

The male shook his head, "naw, you're just trying to cheer me up, aren't you?"

Zaura's heart beat a bit faster, and her eye twitched. Self-pity was one pet peeve of hers, but this was starting to border on ridiculous. Slowly she turned her head until she was eye to eye with him.

"A piece of advice from me to you then. Don't wait. I'm not trying to cheer you up; I'm trying to lift you out of this fog you're in. Get out there and introduce yourself, or so help me I will thrash you into the next cycle, alright?"

The young male looked up into Zaura's smoldering eyes and trembled. There was no mercy to be found there, and suddenly talking to another female seemed like a relatively bearable outcome compared to what awaited him with Zaura.

"Uh, er, right. I'll just go now," he said, quickly getting up onto his feet. "G- goodbye, and thanks." He started away at a brisk pace, but turned around hesitantly. "I'm Camar, by the way. it was a pleasure meeting you."

Zaura winked at him; he was finally getting it. "Go get 'em, Sharptooth," she said, relaxing herself as the male walked away, timidly towards a group of females, his confidence seeming to build with every step.

"Well, there's one good deed for the day," she mumbled as she ducked her head back down onto the grass, "guess coming here wasn't a huge waste after all."

…

The Field of Jumping Water marked the boundary of the Sailnecks' domain, bordering a vast desert. Regularly, jets of steaming hot water leapt from holes in the ground, hence the name. These were very effective for keeping Sharpteeth away, and the Sailnecks treated the place with respect. No one knew if the holes' timing held any regular pattern, and no one cared to find out. In essence, it was an effective two-way gate. No one crossed it in either direction. Here, at the edge of the treeline, Garas waited patiently as Fyn crossed over into the dry beyond.

"Sorry I was so cryptic this morning," Garas said, "I've honestly never done this before. I suppose it's best to ask again- are you truly committed to this role, Fyn? When I'm gone, will you lead the herd as I have?"

"Of course," Fyn said, nodding. Garas smiled, and Fyn was caught off guard as his tail sailed through the air, cracking against the side of his face. Surprised, he stepped back a bit, and Garas grinned.

"We'll work on that. First and foremost, Fyn, you must be prepared to fight for your herd- fight not just to buy them time, if need be, but fight to win. You will be challenged as a leader, and your reflexes must be like lightning. But we have time. Follow me."

The side of his face still burning, Fyn followed Garas as he turned, heading for a rocky, elevated outcropping ahead.

"Of course it's not just fighting, you know," Garas added, making good time over the cracked, dusty ground, "your primary role is the protection of the herd, even when there's no obvious threat."

Fyn was confused- this made no sense. He mulled over what Garas had said as they ascended the outcropping. Was Garas talking about preparing for future encounters? If so, it made sense. Preparation was the surest way to come out ahead in any event. Fyn's thoughts were interrupted as a few rocks crumbled away underfoot. His heart leapt as his small path up the rocks became a bit smaller. From here, he'd survive the fall of course, but landing would hardly be painless.

"Not much farther," Garas said up ahead, working his way up to the very top of the formation. Fyn pushed himself up the steep incline, making his way to the top despite his breathing growing ever more rapid. Finally he took his place at Garas' side, chest heaving. Garas, in contrast, seemed quite comfortable.

"Look up," he said simply. Reluctantly, Fyn lifted his head, squinting through the light of the Bright Circle. Down below him, filling his field of view, was the grove he called home, bordered on one side by the Field of Jumping Water and the vast expanse of dust they called the Drylands. On the other side was the equally impressive Big Water, which stretched as far as the horizon. From here, the grove seemed so… fragile. Like a flower growing alone in a stony field. Evidently Garas thought the same.

"This is our world, Fyn," Garas whispered, gesturing towards the trees below. "What strikes you about it from up here?"

"It's so small," Fyn said in awe, "the trees make it feel so much bigger than it actually is inside."

Garas nodded. "Exactly. This small slice of paradise is all that separates us from the wasteland beyond."

Fyn's blood ran cold. According to Garas, it was into this very beyond that his father disappeared long ago. The tales of what lurked out there- Sharpteeth taller than two Sailnecks on top of one another, sands that swallowed up those unfortunate enough to cross them, and mountains that roared and spat fire- had led him to one conclusion long ago. His father was never coming back. How could he, with everything that lurked beyond the grove's borders?

"My father…" Fyn said, and Garas winced, "why did he go out there? No one ever told me."

This was the question Garas had been dreading since he'd taken Fyn into his care long ago. The answer held dangerous potential, something he didn't want unleashed. But as he looked Fyn over, the Sailneck he'd raised as his own since he was just older than a hatchling, he swallowed his doubts, and decided to tell the truth.

"Your father," he began slowly, "was lured into the Drylands, with the promise of a mythical land called the Great Valley."

"Great Valley?" Fyn muttered, perplexed, "what's that?"

"An empty promise," Garas answered, "a call from the Drylands, beckoning the unwary away. Those who seek this Valley never return." He turned back to the trees, "and this is what I'm referring to when I say you must protect your herd against less obvious threats. Temptation, Fyn, is a threat. Ideas are threats. Like poison they spread through our herd, luring the weak away and thinning our numbers until eventually, none remain. You must protect us from these things, Fyn, as I have for years."

Fyn nodded, understanding. If the Drylands were as dangerous as he'd heard, there was absolutely no reason that the herd should chance them. He only wished that his father had felt this way; if he had, he might still be here to this day.

"These are the truths you must come to accept before you become a leader yourself, Fyn. Can you protect our herd from the threats whispered in idle conversation, too?"

"I can, and I will," Fyn said, excited. There was so much ahead of him now- a great deal of responsibility too, of course, but the call of leadership was strong.

"Then my lesson today is complete," Garas said, smiling. Fyn's confusion made him chuckle a bit, and he turned back to the grove. "I know you're probably a bit confused, but this was the most important lesson I could teach you today. From here on out, you'll follow me, watching what I do and learning from me. I'll train you to fight, of course, too," he added, winking. "Most male Sailnecks your age learn around now. And so will you."

The words Garas spoke slowly fell into a fuzz, however, as Fyn gazed back out over the Drylands. Something had caught his eye- a shadow on the horizon. It wasn't a mirage- it was just too… concrete. And with each passing moment it seemed to grow in size. Was this one of the fabled beasts of the Drylands, passing by to gaze with hungry eyes upon the home of the Sailnecks? Garas followed Fyn's transfixed gaze, and when his eyes met the same anomaly, his brow furrowed.

"What is it?" Fyn asked, gaping.

"Farwalkers," Garas said solemnly, as he moved to the other side of the outcropping to get a better view. "Those who spread the lies and deceit of the Drylands."

"How do they survive out there?"

Garas closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. "No one knows, Fyn. Some say they can find pockets of green food out in the Drylands, while others say they… do the unthinkable."

He didn't elaborate, and immediately Fyn's mind raced. The unthinkable? What could he have possibly meant? Surely he couldn't have meant they preyed upon each other… couldn't he?

"I'll turn them away," Garas sighed, heading down the rocks, "I'll be back soon, just-"

He stopped, turning to Fyn. With a smile, he nodded towards the herd.

"On second thought, come on Fyn. As an apprentice herd leader, I'd like you to see firsthand what we strive to protect against. Come along- I promise no harm will come to you."

Gulping, Fyn took another, long look at the approaching mass of bodies and dust. He'd never seen Outsiders up close before- until now, he'd only heard of them in stories. Did they really eat each other? What would they be like? Yet even with his heart beating rapidly, and thoughts of the horrors that awaited him out there running rampant through his mind, one thought kept his resolve steady.

You want to be a herd leader? Then it's time to stop being a kid and grow up.

"Alright," he said cautiously, "I'm coming with you."