GALACTABEAST HIME

From beneath the vast branches of ancient trees the stars looked so pale and weak. A soft wind gathered the autumn leaves off of the ground and scattered them about her worn and comfortable boots. It had been a summer of dispassionate heat, a summer that had wilted numerous species of flower and caused the many animals of the forest to come closer to the settlements than usual, their tongues lolling out of their mouths as they contravened every instinct and sought water from the human tribes.

She had been as firm as she could, knowing that to be too kind would be to risk domestication but alas being unable to stand by without helping at least a few of the weary beasts. In the end the cull of beasts had occurred none the less, despite her attempts to interfere with nature. Some of the animals had died from exhaustion; some had died in squabbles over water whilst others she had been forced to kill with her own dagger, if only to prevent further suffering.

She did not relish the death of any animal and yet, as she stood amongst the great trees of the forest, their barks blistered and scarred, her hunting armour of iron and fur over the functional yellow robes of her tribe, she felt that the coming of autumn would finally make amends for such brutal heat.

Of the 12 tribes of the Mirinoi hers were amongst the most scholarly having dedicated several centuries to the study and protection of the planet's most sacred relics, a fact that caused her no end of frustration. During her time living in the hut of her mother and father they had both commented upon how she had been born into the wrong tribe and perhaps would have faired better amongst the warlike Malake Habbalah who lived far from her own settlement in the deep deserts of Charbah. It was a common accusation made beneath the veil of humour and one that dug deep at the most common criticism of her nature. At her birth she had been given the name of Maya; by her 10th birthday they had awarded her the title Maya no Eilo-Abeko after the most ferocious and destructive goddess of Mirinoian folklore.

A frown crossed her face, her curls of long brown hair twisting in the wind. It had been many years since tribal disapproval had branded her a warrior, but still she wore the mark of the insult. The summer coupling rituals that bound young lovers into their own family units recognised by the village authorities were unknown to her. She had never been invited to form an alliance with another nor had she been expected at the ceremony. With the passing of summer and celebration so had passed her 18th birthday and still she remained alone, unable to reach out and make any real kind of connection with those around her.

Even her parents had become distant, as if struggling to maintain an awkward respect of her own perceived adulthood out of fear of her raw aggression. The frown deepened, lines worn into her face by practice and unspoken hurt, and she spat in contempt at the dead leaves that gathered around her. Reaching up into the thick curls of her hair and tying it back in a loose ponytail with a single white ribbon stained by blood and loam she suddenly became aware of another presence.

Slowly she allowed her hands to fall to her sides and began turning, already calculating the chances of a rogue gingarilla having travelled this far from the inland jungle regions. Over the summer they had seen numerous galactabeasts growing constantly more daring in their desperation for water. Only a month ago the village had found itself unwelcome host to a pride of gingats, their pink fur bristling and dry throats emitting pitiful mewling sounds.

Yet, as she turned to face the unknown presence it was not truly without a source of guilty pleasure. To think that there might even be the slightest chance of danger and violence, stirred the emotions of her mind like the presence of no lover ever could. Only when she finally faced the creature that had chosen her as its opponent did she fully feel the cold chill of discontent and subtle fear.

Standing in the clearing between her and the winding path that led back to the village was a colossal gingaverick, its back arched and its teeth barred. Gleaming red eyes buried in thick, matted yellow fur, stared at her and instantly she knew this creature were no ordinary beast. It was easily the size of two huts, dwarfing her completely. Without thinking she reached to her right hip and drew her battered blade from its scabbard.

The red eyes of the gingaverick watched the slow, deliberate motion and opened its tremendous maw, howling into the heavy night at such a volume that she was sure it would awaken the villagers in the valley below. As she stood in the animal's shadow, knife at the ready, she reflected that she didn't have to kill it - all she had to do was wait there for enough of her tribesmen to arrive so they could subdue it by numbers alone.

Even as these thoughts crossed her mind she felt her heart sink. There was none in her village whom she would consider her equal as a hunter. They had all spent so long amongst their books and relics that their muscles and instincts had atrophied beyond repair. The beast tossed its head from side to side, roaring once more as she studied the sand coloured fur and the sharp bones that rose in lethal points from its shoulders and hips. She had fought and killed many a gingaverick before, even one that had been poaching livestock from the village outskirts for several generations and had grown so fat and powerful that it could crush a hut simply by charging into it, but nothing could compare with this creature. It was far larger, far more feral even, than any gingaverick before it and the look in its blood eyes was one that Maya no Eilo-Abeko instantly recognised.

This animal was a killer.

With a sudden and ungodly howl that caused all previous noise it had emitted to pale in comparison, the galactabeast leapt forwards. She darted sideways, narrowly avoiding most of the beast but not before its left paw had brushed against her hip, tearing through the exposed yellow fabric of her robe and into the flesh. She staggered and fell forwards, moaning loudly as she clutched at her side.

The animal landed and turned round, padding slowly towards her, its heavy bulk swaying with each step. In her ears she could hear the sound of her heart thundering in panic. She pulled her hand away from the wound and found it stained with blood. In horror she glanced down to see the dark crimson spreading out beneath the area that remained unprotected by her armour. The creature's nostrils flared, presumably at the scent of the blood and its pace quickened.

She looked up, sudden horror intermingling with the coppery taste at the back of her mouth. The beast lowered its head and charged forwards. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself for the impact, snatching hold of its bowed head as they collided and grabbing handfuls of its filthy fur in order to hang on. The creature howled once more and she swung herself upwards, her lungs desperately trying to draw breath as pain screeched through her nerve endings from the torn wound in her side. She landed awkwardly atop its great skull and shuddered in pain. Her vision blurred as it took every ounce of strength she possessed to hold on whilst the gingaverick bellowed and tried to shake her free.

With a trembling heart she released her grip on the right side of its head and gently slid her hand, dagger still clenched tightly between bruised fingers, beneath the creature's open mouth and tore the jagged blade across the soft flesh of its throat.

The gingaverick went wild, rearing up and throwing her backwards into the dirt and leaves as blood spouted from the wound. With a curious emotional detachment she watched as the great creature staggered and shivered before collapsing to the ground with a whimper, a pool of dark blood spreading about its shuddering body.

Panting, she stood slowly, clutching at her damaged hip and wiping sweat away as well as loose strands of hair that had fallen from her ponytail in the struggle. A hollow sense of calm engulfed as she witnessed the final moments of the colossal galactabeast. Such creatures were common on Mirinoi, especially in the darker regions where none of the tribes dare venture and yet all the same, the size of the animal terrified and intrigued her. There were stories and fables - and oh, how the spineless book readers of her tribe delighted in the telling of such stories - that detailed such gigantic galactabeasts and spoke of the transmutation of flesh into metal but she dismissed them as being another example of overactive folklore. Jera, the eldest of the philosopher-scholars of her people was keen on espousing possible connections between these mythic galactabeasts and the time worn sabres that had remained trapped in the central rock memorial of the village for centuries before Maya's birth.

Cautiously she crossed the distance between her and the fallen gingaverick, pausing to look down at its fallen body and the blood beneath that stained the leaves. Perhaps any other member of her tribe would have tried to find a way to prevent harm from coming to such a mighty specimen of a creature although she sincerely doubted that any other member of her tribe could have reacted swiftly enough to avoid becoming fodder for the creature's appetite. This was not arrogance on her part but simply understanding of the facts as they presented themselves to her.

She sighed heavily. More so now than ever she felt the distance between her and the world in which she lived. With the ache in her side echoing dramatically within her heart, Maya no Eilo-Abeko turned away from the place of the dead gingaverick and the forest's expansive clearing and headed down towards the path back to her village.

High up above her the stars in the sky shimmered irrespective of her emotions and far beyond them countless galaxies blossomed and faded without even knowing of her name.