She crouched low, into the leaves, shadows playing over her form. She stayed still, eyes watching the movement of the bushes only a few feet in front of her. Her shoulders arched, creating a valley in her back, hands pressed flat against the ground, chest barely above it. She turned her body gracefully and quietly, following the movement of the brush as it travelled to her left. Wide eyes watched the movement, following it with her head. Her hand curled around the metal spear beneath it. She froze when the movement stopped, then moved when it did.
Her throat tightened; she made a hoarse grunting noise through her nose. The movement stopped, then shifted and turned. She moved her spear, holding it out in front of her, waiting, listening as the sound grew closer. She could see now, the long grasses parting before her as it came closer. Then, the moment came. She put the spear up, striking flesh and extending it.
A horrible cry rang through the forest and around her the bushes all came to life. Her hand gripped tightly the shaft of her ba as her prey thrashed about. All around her small forms charged in the same direction, abandoning their wounded companion. Heavy beats flattening the soil in retreat.
She stood, gaining leverage against the animal she had struck, putting her foot on it to keep it still in its death throes. Then, finally, it went still and she retracted the spear. She moved her foot away from the boar, looking at his beautiful pelt of red, white and black. She knelt down beside it, running her hand along the coarse hair, rubbing a thumb along the smooth hooves. She took the knife from the belt and started to clean her kill. The river hogs of the area were not the biggest that she could find, but it would do for an evening meal for a single person, and then some.
Once she had the head removed she used some of the cord she had taken from Mbia and raised it up so that it hung. She skinned it and set the pelt aside, then began to remove the muscle from the bone, setting the pieces of meat on the inside of the pelt. She would need to make a temporary camp to treat the skin and cook the meat. The kill was already starting to attract flies, and she knew that more dangerous things would soon come, drawn by the scent of blood.
She was done quickly, an expert at this since she was a child. She began wrapping the meat up and turned her attention to the carcass. She lowered it from the tree and it hit the ground with a heavy sound. She untied the cord from its ankles and used the cord to tie up the pelt. She would have liked to keep all of it, but she was too far from the village.
She heard a sound and she froze, looking around and crouching instinctively, until her eyes caught the spotted pelt of the leopard. Seemed she was sharing territory with this one rather than it simply passing through. It was crouched low, pale yellow eyes wide, still as stone at having been spotted. Diwizama moved cautiously, lifting her makeshift bag from the ground. The leopard's ears went back, watching her, nose twitching. She reached down, grabbing one of the short legs of the boar skeleton and lifting it with some difficult. She then tossed it at the leopard, who jumped and growled a warning. Likely it would have attacked if it didn't smell that what she had thrown at it was food. But it would not eat with her watching.
The feline didn't even blink as it watched her back away into the forest, but once she was a good distance away, it turned on the carcass and began to eat at what was left.
Diwizama took a few more steps back, before turning and making her way through the forest. She had a place for a camp in mind, hopefully it was unclaimed. She shared this jungle with many predators; leopards and crocodiles among them, and they all had parts of her lands to share. Usually the Payas would collect many skulls of the dangerous animals even before her clan would arrive for the Kure Tua. Not these two. Mbia hadn't had a single skull on his trophy belt, and she hadn't seen any on the cloaked form of the younger Paya, but that didn't mean there wasn't any.
Pondering over the curiosity of why there were two of them here, Diwizama dropped out of a tree, holding onto the limb with one hand, feet planted against the trunk. She surveyed the small sanctuary, looking for life before touching down. Fresh water pooled in this area; a small pond nestled between some rocks, fed by a small stream. It was a very rocky area, but it was cool. Moss grew on the stones and ground, making it soft, and lichens gave wonderful color to the space.
She set her bag down and moved to the small pond, bending over the stones to reach in and scoop out water. She began cleaning herself of blood. She checked to look at the wounds on her chest, peeling off the scabs to cause irritation. She wanted them to be clear and visible when they healed.
Poking the puckering flesh, she went back into the trees to collect what dry wood she could find. She only needed a small fire to cook the meat. It was far too warm to need a larger fire for heat.
She opened up the pelt and laid it out, looking at the meat and selecting just two pieces. With the knife, she skinned and sharpened one of the long thin sticks and pierced the two pieces on it. Starting a fire was easy thanks to Mbia's knife, and she set the meat over the small circle of stones she had made to keep the blaze contained.
The pelt she tied back up, this time, though, using a strip of the pelt itself, tying the cord back around her waist. The jungle around her adjusted to her presence and had come to life again. She sat by her fire and looked up at some birds that were flittering overhead. The buzz of insects grew close by as they tried to find ways into the pelt, to get to the meat that they could smell within.
Diwizama drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, looking around and listening.
"The jungle will let you know when a Paya is near," she remembered her mother saying, "it knows who you are, and accepts you quickly. It does not know the Payas, and it is scared of them. It will always be silent where a Paya is."
Diwizama ran her fingers against the decorative scars on her abdomen, checking on the meat and looking around again. The gold light had turned a shade of blue through the trees. She could feel the temperature change just a little. By the time it was growing dark, she was eating the meat, tearing pieces off with her teeth, right off the stick. She looked up every so often to watch and listen, then went back to eating.
Once dinner was over, she snuffed her fire and began cleaning the skull with the last bit of light. She set it to the side after washing it, admiring it as her eyes adjusted. She touched the smooth bone before standing up and grabbing her bag. The flies had since gone to sleep, so she didn't need to shoo any away, or worry about their noise attracting attention. She moved quietly, but on the ground. She was constantly stopping and listening, looking around, then moving forward again.
She paused when she saw a light. It was orange; a fire.
She stood still for a moment, feeling the stiffness and soreness of her muscles from her fight with Mbia. She couldn't afford to get into another one, not without rest. She stared a little longer, watching the light move against the trees gently. She stepped towards it, extra slow, paying careful attention not to make any noise.
She only got close enough that she could see who was camping, there were only two possibilities. Her eyes searched through the trees, keeping low to the ground, hidden by the leaves. Then she saw movement and her muscles tightened painfully. It was him, the other Paya, moving around with deadly quiet for how large he was. She shouldn't have seen him, hadn't earned the honor, but it was too late now. She was mesmerized. He was pale, like a phantom, with stripes across his body the color of drying blood.
His mask was still on, as was his armor. He was not going to let his guard down. Around his camp, there were no other skulls, no carcasses. She had been right in that he had not yet hunted anything else on the Kure Tua. That also meant he had no meat. She slowly eased the bag off her shoulder, lowering it to the ground. She kept her eyes on him. It seemed he was going through, checking his weapons, laying them carefully in a row after each thorough inspection.
She had once asked her mother why the Payas needed fire. It was because they were cold. It seemed that no matter how hot the summer ever got during a Kure Tua it was still cold for the Payas. The myths said it was because they lived in the stars. Ever star was the dwelling of a Paya, where he kept his family and his trophies and his gear, only coming out of his star for the Kure Tua, after commanding it to fall to Earth.
Diwizama knew better than that now, but the possibility that the Paya was cold was still valid. Who knew where they came from, and what it was like there. She did not allow her the distraction of fantastic visions and dreams of the Payas' home world. She instead backed away from the bag, moving her way into the trees and far from the trail she left. She circled to her right, still within sight of the bag. She felt her throat tighten as she readied herself. She imitated the rattling clicks she had heard from Mbia.
She did it once more, then pressed herself close to the tree and listened. She made her breathing quiet, and focused on what she heard. This way she could track where he would move, for surely he had cloaked himself again. She heard him move to the trees, and followed the sound in her mind's eye. She saw the red beam flicker through the trees then disappear, the sound of his gun moving around on his shoulder.
He dropped down in the area she left the bag and was silent. Then he began clicking. It was a silent sort of language, the clicking that the Payas used. They had basic meanings, meant to convey positions and orders, like the silent hand gestures of the military. These her clan had learned entirely, but could replicate very little as they did not have the parts meant to produce the sound. They could only get close to it, mimic it, and hope it sounded right.
This clicking, though, it was the same exact command she had used to get him into that position. He was telling her to come. He was searching for her, she was sure, but the thick trunk of the tree would hide her unless he moved around it. She heard the soft pelt being worked, and a rattle of curiosity. Then he was off again, into the trees and moving away. She waited longer, and blinked when the orange light was suddenly gone.
Of course he was going to move his camp now that she had discovered it. She was far enough away that her eyes only had to adjust a little in the new darkness. Then she heard no sounds, but still she waited. When she heard the usual noises of life stirring once more, she looked around the tree. The bag was still there. She moved over to it, and looked it over. She broke off a branch and dropped it near the bag, in case this Paya was the sort to lay traps. It was discouraged, not forbidden. Nothing was set off and she eased down to the ground and where the bag lay. The meat was still inside, her offering was not accepted.
She didn't fret though, just as a lion may be wary of bait if it were to be a trap or to be drugged, so too the Paya had left it alone. He had also moved on. It was getting too late to try again, and to properly convey the intent. So she tied the bag up and carried it back to her camp. She tied it up into a tree several yards away from the small clearing. If something would be brave enough to enter her space for it, she would rather it take the meat from far away, and not be tempted to snack on her as well.
Just as she entered into her clearing again the ground around her began to lighten with white light. She looked up as the moon crept into view. She watched it for a second, lifting her hand in greeting. She watched it move between her fingers and rest for a split second on the tip of one before lightly lifting off and calmly flying away.
Diwizama lowered her hand, looking upon the moon for a moment longer. She bent to get ready to lie down and rest, when around her the forest went quiet. She bolted, hopping onto the small stone circle and slowly slipped her feet into the pond, making as little noise as possible.
The water was cool, and it caused goose bumps to crawl along her flesh as she sank in until the water covered her head with lungs full of air. It was only a shallow pond; her feet were flat against the bottom, and her knees were bent. Her eyes looked up through the rippling water. She saw nothing. Nearly a minute passed by, her lungs were burning. Slowly, she straightened her legs. She was just going to put her lips to the surface and take a breath. The he appeared. His distorted image towering over the surface of the water. He wasn't cloaked. She needed to breathe, but she couldn't risk it. Hopefully he would assume she climbed the rocks and up into the trees.
She watched his distorted mask look from side to side, and then up. This could be her chance. She moved her hand to her belt, gripping the knife. Then he looked down, tilting his head at the water. She pulled her knife from the belt slowly, holding it with the blade down. She would take him down the same way she had Mbia. She was ready, all her muscles bunched to spring. She stopped. The pale hand touched the surface of the water. It bent around his flesh, catching the moonlight. Very gently, he moved his hand along the surface.
Diwizama's lips parted as she looked at the hand of the Paya, the hand of her god, so close. The moonlight filtered through the water around him, dancing around her, and through his fingers, playing shadows across her face. Her hand moved slowly, reaching up. She couldn't feel the pain in her lungs anymore, crystal bubbles made their way to the surface as her hand rose up.
His hand moved into the water up to his wrist, fingers relaxed. She moved her hand to touch them, slide her hand into his.
She missed her chance.
His fist clenched. Moonlight flashed against the silver of his blades as they shot out next to her. She inhaled water in surprise and leapt out. She swung her blade as she heard the water roar beneath her. She stumbled, slipping off the wet rocks as she heard a roar of pain behind her. She coughed out the water in her lungs, scrambling to her feet, stumbling.
Her shoulder hit a tree hard and caused her to fall. She saw just a blur, and reacted, turning her body away and hearing the wristblades slide into the dirt behind her. Drops of blood illuminated the ground around her as her blade made contact with his leg, which then kicked her hard in the ribs. It sent her flying, but when she landed, she rolled to her feet and took off running.
He did not shoot at her, but she heard singing through the air and threw herself forward, shoulder first. Dark lines appeared in the trees around her as the bladed disk sailed through them as easily as it did the air, going forward and then back to its master.
She shouldn't be running. She should be facing him. But in her present condition, she wouldn't be able to give him her best, it wouldn't be right.
She wove through the trees, back and forth. He did not try to throw the disk again, but she could hear him following, and closing in. She needed to vanish. Continuing to weave, she came to a sudden stop behind a tree. It confused him long enough for her to move a few trees away and scamper up into the branches.
She watched him move around, looking from side to side, his dreads sliding along his skin. He even looked up, but the leaves were thick where she was hidden. After a moment, he was calm, his scanning of the forest was slow and deliberate. Finally, he turned and walked away into the jungle, disappearing from view again.
She needed to move. He would return to where he lost the trail to keep looking for her. She moved north, diagonally from the direction he left in, not the complete opposite. The night was old by the time she chose a tree and made a nest of the leaves in the same fashion as the gorilla. Her clan had learned as much from nature as they had the Payas.
She laid down in the nest and let out a heavy breath. She could now feel a wound that adrenaline had hidden from her previously; she would have to properly dress it in the morning. All her body ached, her chest felt like fire, and her eyelids refused to remain open. As she began to drift off, she recalled the Paya's hand reaching for her.
Torodondodondo, she thought as the world around that striped, white hand went dark, Torodondodondo.
The striped ghost.
When she awoke, the sky was light, but the sun had not risen. Around her the forest was alive, so she was relatively safe. Giving a study of her surroundings, she left her nest and moved through the branches back to the clearing. The pelt of meat had been dragged away and torn open at the base of a tree, and lounging on the branch, licking its paws, was the leopard.
"That was not for you," she said, pursing her lips in disappointment. When the leopard paused to look at her, she left. A new day of the Kure Tua had begun.