Reality

I leapt into the camp. I didn't have the time or patience for subtlety right now, and I broke the flimsy cages with slashes here and there. The same applied to any apes that got in my way. Pity stung my chest when I saw a mother manweersmall with a couple children hiding behind her and a baby in both arms. She was the last, and she started forward, limping.

I skidded to a halt in front of her, kneeling. "Get them on." She didn't seem to understand at first, muttering something in another language with fearful eyes.

I pointed at the younger children hiding behind her, and then at my back.

Comprehension dawned on her face and she gave me a look of pure gratitude before coaxing the two older children onto my back. I didn't understand her words, but she had a certain determination to protect that reminded me of Mom, and even Kaboa a bit. An older female clung tightly to my neck, and a smaller male clung on to her from behind. The mother handed the babies to the older girl; luckily they were small enough for her to hold in between her torso and my neck.

I jumped and looked around. One of the larger apes stood behind us, bloodlust sparking in his eyes. I couldn't fight or get away in time with them on my back; I'd end up throwing them. But I refused to leave without them.

The mother looked at me. "Goh!" she said choppily in our language. "Goh!" She pushed something hard and small into my forepaw and picked up a metal splinter from the blistering earth, facing the great ape. "No yoo look back, just goh."

I looked at her, at her determination, at her belly that was plump with another baby, at her swollen ankle, and at a deadly fierceness that shone in her beady eyes.

I nodded and ran, grabbing the item she had given me in my mouth.

She told me not to look back. I didn't listen.

She didn't scream; she just crumpled, blood splattering the black obsidian around her. The ape let out a guttural cry of victory before he was blasted into smithereens. I turned to see Exhumor, hand back at his belt to pick up another stick of dynamite.

Her body was gone too, reduced to ashes.

I was crying, tears streaming down my face. More manweersmalls came, took the children from me – to lead them somewhere safe.

If she hadn't done that, her children would be dead, and so would I.

Before he left, I showed the object to Exhumor. "What is this?" It was small and delicate-looking, but somehow I could tell it was as indestructible as diamond, maybe more so. It looked like a metal flower, threaded onto a thin chain, petals open.

"It's the cave-lily," he explained, taking my paw and gently closing my claws around it, "the manweersmall symbol of hope. It only grows in the deepest places underground, glowing like silver fire. To us, it's proof that however hard and long the trail, and however it ends for you, there will be someone to guide your soul home. Sometimes we call it the hopelily or the dawn-star."

I looked back at the metal lily; long streamer-like petals sprang from its throat, and two long tendrils spiralled from inside of it, twirling in small eccentric loops. It seemed slightly plain, but something deep within told me there was much more to this simple plant than met the eye.

"I'll keep it safe," I said, pressing it to my heart. "Hope won't die for me."

I passed the ashes as I went on, and I was careful not to let a single tear fall on them. Awe overwhelmed me, and with admiration I flapped my wings, sending the ashes flying – flying into the wind, scattering, free.

"Your hope lives with them now," I realized, looking back at where the children had disappeared. "Watch over them for me."