The path of humans is easy to follow, always easy to follow. Trails run through the jungles cut through with machete and the ground so walked on, that nothing grew. There were many of these, and to Diwizama, it was the mark of trespassers. But she ignored them. Something far more important was occurring now than a few disrespectful humans. It was one of these trails that the elder Paya had said he would be near, where he was going to scout, and look for tracks. Her tracks.
She wasn't going to traverse the ground any more than they were. She had been raised in these trees, she could move for hours without once touching the soil unless she wanted to.
Leaping across one of the human trails, she landed on the branch of a very old tree. A hole had been carved into it for a nest long ago by animals, and the years simply saw to it that the hole be widened and stretched open until it was a gaping maw in the still-living tree. She reached her hand into it, feeling the pool of water inside with the palm of her hand. She cupped her hand and smelled it. The water was fresh, and she drank a few handfuls before lifting up and sliding into the hole, feet first. The water was cool, and went to the middle of her calves.
She crouched down in the hole until she was completely obscured and let out a breath. This was the tree the elder Paya had used as a landmark for where he would go. She just needed to wait. She crossed her arms around herself, feeling the cool metal of her spear against the side of her arm. The sounds of the forest were accentuated within the hollow, making listening for the Paya easier.
Several minutes passed by, then more. It turned into a half hour of watching the shadows change and wondering; why were there two? They had come in larger groups before, hunting parties for when the clan was large and strong, but surely they had to know she couldn't breed and raise that many hunters in the time between hunts. It made no sense to her. What she did know, was that her chances of victory were made very slim. She would have to work doubly hard to earn another century of life.
The birds continued to sing after an hour had passed by. She was lulled again, the wood made the sounds engulf her, embrace her, and she began to doze. She forced herself to stay awake, though it was all very wearing on her. She was ashamed. Her mother had run for hours and hours without rest when she participated in the Kure Tua, after a day of toil and taking care of a child. She would do her proud and bring honor to her memory. So she stayed awake, listening, fighting her heavy eyelids until she yielded. They burned; it would be alright to close them, just for a while.
She jerked awake suddenly, causing a splash around her. The light outside the hole had changed, and the flesh of her fingers was wrinkled. Despite everything she had fallen asleep. Cursing herself she searched the water for her ba, fishing it out from near her ankle. Her body was stiff from sleeping in that curled position, and her knees were aching to be unbent.
Keeping her displeasure in her throat, she began to move for the hole when she heard something, or more accurately, nothing. The birds had stopped singing, and the insects were still. She held her breath and eased up slightly out of the water, just so that her eyes were over the rounded edge. Even knowing what she should be looking for, she saw nothing. That didn't mean that it was safe.
Still, if the Paya knew that she was here, staying in the hole was going to be far more dangerous than if she left. But she had to plan. She was certain that he was nearby, but was unsure of where. She pondered for a bit, ignoring the discomfort of her body. Finally, with a plan in mind, she eased back up, this time standing up out of the hole and slowly crawled down.
Her toes dug into the soft soil as she hit the path and stretched out all the aches. She looked down and flexed them against the earth, the same color as her skin. She then moved quickly, following the trail west. She moved past over-hanging foliage without thinking about it, keeping her feet planted firmly on the earth, hurrying, but not running. Heavy breathing would be easy for him to hear.
Despite being several yards away from the tree, the forest around her was dead silent. She could feel it, but she needed to get to an open area and make ready if she was going to have a chance. She would not set any traps. No, traps were discouraged by the Paya, and while it robbed the clan of that much of a chance at victory, it was agreed that it was not a practice they would indulge in.
The trail finally opened up. Not very much, just a couple yards across or so all around, but it would be enough. She stepped forward, having hopefully left a good enough trail to be followed and looked around slowly. She lifted a hand and wiped her cheek, smearing some of the white off her skin. She had already sweated off much of the white markings on her face. The old Kure Iradandaanya used to wear masks like the Payas, but the masks restricted the vision so much that they opted to use masks in ceremony only, and to paint on masks for the Kure Tua. No mask ever lasted as long as the hunt.
She stepped forward again, still listening for where the life was in the jungle, and heard a rustling in the trees above her. She didn't look up, one of them was above her. She didn't know which one. She breathed easily, taking another step forward, slowly crouching in the foliage for some cover, still moving forward. She turned the ba in her hand and stopped. She froze, muscles bunched, ready, waiting, holding her breath. Nothing happened, nothing moved. She looked around again, and then took a step forward.
The sound of rustling leaves when she had brushed against none was her only warning. With a jerk the ba in her hand extended to a full-length spear, one end stabbing deep into the earth as an anchor and the other shot up above her shoulder. She felt the heat before she heard the roar, a hot liquid poured over her shoulder as she rolled out from beneath a heavy shadow and she turned. The glowing green blood of the Paya was spread out against the leaves and along the ground, and pooling around where the ba was protruding from his transparent chest.
But he was still standing. Roaring again the shimmer grabbed the spear and wrenched it from his chest, throwing it at her in the same fluid motion. She dropped to the ground and hopped forward, the ba sailing over her and hitting a tree with a heavy sound. A heavy rattle came from the Paya and she heard the sharp sound of his wristblades extending. But what more, a crackle, and like rippling water under rain he became visible to her. This one had found her worthy of that much.
It was the elder Paya, his crest large and spiked, long dreads grey at the ends. He was green in color, darker and speckled on the outer parts of his flesh, but lighter on his belly, reminding her of a crocodile.
She did not have much time to observe as the Paya came for her. She was without a weapon. With the strength he had thrown her ba it would take more than just a second with her power to remove it from the wood. So she moved out of the way, bounding to the side and hearing his blades slice cleanly through the air above her. The moment she touched the ground she stood, looking for an exit before throwing her shoulder back, feeling his blades cut down across her collarbone. She rolled her body away from his blades, taking quick steps back for distance as he made to grab her with his other hand.
His claws grabbed onto her bone necklace and he tried to wrench her forward with it, but the chord was too weak for his strength and snapped easily, allowing her to duck and roll. Somersaulting past his leg, her hand flashed out, contacting his rough skin, drawing her own claws against it, though it did little. Once behind him, she stood, crouched, his dagger in her hand. He whipped around, long dreads flaring out and smacking against his back. He moved forward with his blades, and she moved the knife to counter. The knife was knocked away with enough force to make her arm numb, but she held on to it, ready to parry his blows. After the second strike her arm tingled, trying to keep the feeling in it. The third strike he attempted she ducked under and pushed off the balls of her feet, shooting past him, the blade in her hand held to the side, digging into his flesh.
Roaring again at the new wound, he turned to face her, disoriented for a second when she was not immediately visible, looking around and then up, but soon finding her as she leapt from the foliage from right underneath him. She had used his own body heat to disguise hers. She dug the blade straight up his abdomen, then put distance between them again and whirled to face him, but stopped. He wasn't moving, one hand was wrapped around his stomach, the other was moving away from his neck. She had unintentionally cut his throat open vertically with her last strike, when her intent had only been to maybe gut him. It was a lucky strike.
The elder Paya released his stomach, showing that her original plan hadn't worked anyway, as the cut along his stomach was shallow, but he was bleeding profusely from his throat. The blood was cascading down his front, staining his own skull necklace, his armor and his skin in bright green glow. His stained hand moved to his wrist, and his fingers curled, allowing for one claw to touch the metal pad there. Ice went through Diwizama's veins and she reacted, jerking her hand and throwing the blade, cutting into the device. The bright red symbols vanished.
The elder let out a gurgling roar, looking at her and charging, despite his mortal wound. She moved to dodge but was grabbed. She flew through the air, hitting the ground hard. Before she could react her ankle was grabbed and she was tossed again as easily as a small stone. Her shoulder hit the ground and she pushed herself up, her hand grabbing a stone and wrenching it from the earth, turning to face him. She hesitated, then relaxed. He was on his knees, one hand around his neck, the other digging into the earth. His breathing was wet; she could hear bubbles forcing their way up his throat to allow air out, and then the choking noises trying to draw breath in. Blood was dripping from behind his mask. The Paya cocked his head, looking up at her through the grey coverings over his eyes, trying in vain to stem the flow of his blood. She knelt down to one knee and he tried to grab for her, but she was out of reach, one hand balled into a fist across her chest.
She felt her throat tighten as she swallowed, "Yin'tekai," she said, having to think on her words. The Paya's labored breaths were becoming shallow, he hand back to his throat, "honor-able," she tried again, "death. Master, thank you. Rest."
The elder stared at her for a few more moments wheezing, his shoulders heaving with his labor, as if he would stand, and fight with his dying breath. She believed he would, if the very act of breathing was not a battle in of itself for him. Then, in an instant, he rattled a final breath, his muscles loosened, and he fell forward into his own blood.
Diwizama lowered her hand from her chest, standing up and moving to the elder. She bent touching his shoulder gently, feeling the texture of his skin before she pushed, rolling him over onto his back. She looked down at the magnificent body of the Paya. Aged as he was, not a bit of him could be considered weak or feeble. He was decorated with many scars, which she traced with reverence, wondering at the long story his body alone could tell. His mask was beautiful, the face of it square where the mouth was, but polished smooth for the crest, forking at the top and curving slightly back. A symbol was burned into the polished surface.
"Honored fallen," she said, kneeling by him and moving his claws to rest at his sides, "in life I knew not your name, but allow me to call you Mbia so that I may honor you in prayer," Mbia, the mountain. She ran her hand tenderly along his mask, from his crest to his chin, but did not remove it. She had not earned that honor. She would leave it on until she needed to remove it to clean his skull. She did, however, bend down to his chest and put her lips to the pool of blood in his throat.
She had earned another century of life, if she could survive the other Paya.
It was a shame she did not have the time to honor him properly. It would all have to wait until the Kure Tua was finished. For now, she followed the customs and began to disarm him. He had on him two of the throwing disks, small balls made of a clay-like material that she knew caused electric shock upon impact, and the weapons she had previously observed. These loose items she took with her, removing his belt and retying it onto her, leaving the trophy belt alone.
The wristblades she also left. They were too big for her to wear and the kit on his back had to be abandoned. She didn't have the time or energy to move him to remove it. She took the rock she had and made sure that the bomb was destroyed for certain. Dropping the stone once the task was done she found and retrieved the knife, and struggled with the spear in the tree. Of all the things, she was hesitant to leave this behind. The longer it took to remove, the more anxious she got. She expected at any moment for the other Paya to appear through the trees, and she was not ready to face him yet.
A gasp escaped her when the ba came out unexpectedly, but she retracted it back to its shorter size and then moved into the trees. She heard a crash behind her and instantly slid up behind a tree, making herself narrow against the trunk, feeling her heart leaping into her throat. She heard clicking behind her, first quick and wary, then slow and deep.
She saw a red light appear, passing through the trees, back, and then forth again, up and down. She held her breath, trying to plot out the best way of escape and seeing that the only routes would expose her to the open. Her only true option was to climb the tree and get to high ground, but the noise that would be made from that might alert him to her position.
Then, the beam turned off, and behind her she heard more clicking and movement. There was heavy sound, then the sound of metal against metal. The sound of foliage being walked through faded away from her. Her lungs screamed at her to breathe, but she dared not, not while the younger Paya was so close. Only when she guessed he was far away from the sounds he was making, did she let out a breath. She looked past the tree and found that the Paya had left with Mbia's body, leaving only blood on the ground. Its glow slowly fading.
She reached up and rubbed the side of her hand against her lips. She looked down at where her own dark blood mixed with the beautiful green of Mbia's. She took a moment to look at the wound on her chest that dissected some of her previous scars before she began to move through the forest. She began to look around, specifically at the trees she was passing by until she found what she needed.
A wounded tree, already bleeding. She collected the sap on her fingers and began to rub it into the wounds. It stopped the bleeding, but that was not the intent. The sap would ensure that the scar would not only be permanent, but pronounced, raised up above her skin. Normally she would have done this with ash, as ash was cleaner and less prone to infection. But she didn't have the time to go back to her village, and this was worth the risk. There was one other Paya out there, and the sun was getting low.