Several months passed in the forest. Ink spent his time pacified with herbalism. Mondir showed him the qualities and properties of each and every plant in the forest. He also made clothes out of hide, whittled wood, and collected water.
Amos' time in the forest was more rigorous. Mondir had him up early every morning, practicing moving with stealth, training his observational skills, and teaching him the location of all his traps. Wherever they went, Bin followed, always keeping a close eye on Amos.
Over time, his mana naturally regenerated and he practiced with both his Drai abilities in smaller bursts so he wouldn't run out of mana in case he needed it. He never heard the whispers.
Every so often, Mondir would take Amos out on hunts and they would come across a Mutabeast. They were never large enough (by Mondir's estimation) to contain a Mutagem, and so they snuck away, leaving them be.
Amos learned to shoot a bow. He wasn't an expert, but his aim was serviceable. He learned how to skin animals, which parts were good to eat, and how to save them for later. He learned how to use knives. He ran everyday and his build became leaner than it ever was on the farm.
Mondir helped him to learn some words in Maurish from his Mutabestiary, but it was only sight reading. Memorisation of shapes, not truly understanding what sounds they made and how to put them together. That would come with time.
...
The forest was teeming with life. When Amos first met Mondir, he had thought this place quiet, but it never really was. There, the warbling of Leafshears and Mountaingems in the canopy. There, the rustling of rodents in the distant undergrowth. There, the gentle yet ever present whistling of the wind twisting between gnarled trunks and playing its silent games.
Mondir was letting Amos take the lead. They were tracking something big - Mondir wouldn't tell him what (or didn't know, but that was unlikely) - which meant its heart had likely become a valuable Mutagem.
Amos had found a pile of dung earlier, but it wasn't fresh. They were circling methodically from that point, looking for other signs so Amos would be able to discern which Mutabeast was their quarry today. There wasn't enough information to make an informed decision on whether they should hunt it or leave it be, yet.
Ink came with them. Mondir insisted it would be good for him to practice being quiet - the Wildman called him an "earthquake on stilts". Ink didn't know what an earthquake was but he laughed every time. Mondir made him point to each and every useful herb, weed, and root they passed, explaining its use.
"Vakalla: Boil to extract properties of temporarily increased vision. Silk Moss: Chew to numb pain. Abyss Tree: Poison sap, bark is harmless and sweet when powdered," Ink rambled as he stomped in contrast to Mondir and Amos' careful steps. Every time he got a name and property of a plant correct, Bin would give him a lick on the back of his hand. If he was wrong, Bin would exhale haughtily.
It's good for Ink to feel useful.
We've spent a long time in the woods, now. The Trenmir presence in all the towns will have died down.
I hope.
Amos noticed a deep rut in the ground. Mondir watched with crossed arms as he knelt to inspect it.
"Deep rut, only one. Claw mark? What Mutabeast has one claw?" Amos asked.
Mondir shrugged noncommittally.
"Come on," Amos whined. "Just tell me!"
"You've memorised my Mutabestiary. If we die here it'll be your fault for not remembering."
Amos grunted and chewed his lip.
"Speaking of death," Ink said, "how do you want it to happen?"
"Me?" Mondir asked. "I guess... quickly. Surrounded by my clan. Fastheart forever."
"That's sweet," Ink said. "I think I want to blow up."
"What?"
"Like..." Amos widened his eyes, blew up his cheeks and splayed his fingers, "boom!"
Mondir chuckled and shook his head.
"I don't want to think about dying today," Amos said. "Large Mutabeast with one claw... it's got to be a Dreadclaw!"
Mondir nodded. "I don't want to let it get away. What do you remember about Dreadclaws?"
"Um... they're fast. Territorial, so there'll only be one. Huge front legs with razor sharp claws. Poor eyesight, but good hearing."
"What else?"
"Uhh... Caves? They drag their prey to caves to eat alone."
"Good. They don't have tough hide so as long as we're quiet we won't need anything except for my bow."
Ink had wandered off while Mondir and Amos were discussing their quarry. He shouted from a distance away and they sprinted towards his voice.
"Look," Ink said. Mondir and Amos were out of breath. "Blood on the leaves here."
"Very good, Ink," Mondir said. "Maybe you can be a Wildman one day."
Ink made a face.
"Bin, stay," Mondir said to his Mutabeast pet, then turned to Ink. "You too. Can't have you stumbling around while we're hunting."
Ink gave two thumbs up and a grin by way of response. The Wildman and his protegee set off in the direction of the nearest cave, silent as mice.
"Mondir," Amos hissed, "You never cared that I was Drai. Why?"
Mondir held a finger to his lips, but shrugged. He stopped for a moment, looking around and listening. When he decided the coast was clear, he turned to Amos.
"Do you know anything about the world outside Mauria?" he asked.
"No."
"The Drai are revered there. The Gods are worshipped and the Drai are there priests, sent to do their bidding. Here, the Gods are seen as minions of dark, unknowable powers."
"And what do you think of me?"
"You don't seem like a minion. You were unlucky. Or lucky, depending on who you ask. The hatred of the Drai was manufactured by the Maurish Empire, the love of them was manufactured by other societies."
It seems I was unlucky to be reborn into Mauria.
"There is no answer, no one truth. Drai are people, simple as that. People are not good or bad. A Wildman knows that they are similar to Mutabeasts in this way. Most Mutabeasts follow their desires, others hunt and kill to survive. Also, we do not trust the Trenmir."
"So the Wildmen don't have to kill every Mutabeast?"
Mondir nodded this time.
"Bin?"
"She's a good girl. Wildmen must know which beasts to kill and which to spare. Some clans are more ruthless than others in this matter."
"So... should we kill this Dreadclaw?"
"Let us see."
Mondir found the cave presently. The Wildman and his magical student tip-toed into the dark maw where the sun couldn't penetrate beneath the earth. They moved slowly, with purpose.
Mondir handed Amos a vial of some foul-smelling brew. Ink could've told him what it was - probably had before - but Amos drank it unquestioningly. His pupils were forced to dilate almost immediately, improving his ability to see in the dark somewhat. Mondir took a swig of his own vial and put them away gently.
They crept forward. Slowly, so slowly. Water dripped from stalactites into puddles that would deepen or stony mounds that would grow over aeons. Mondir unslung the bow from his shoulder. The wood groaned softly as he pulled the string back in increments. He held it there, the muscles on his back tensed for minutes on end.
They came to a wide, empty cavern. From the centre came the stench of blood and the sound of heavy breathing. Amos picked out the shape of a Mutabeast - he had guessed correctly.
It was like a bear, stretched to grotesque proportions. Its spine was too long, rising and falling in mountainous ridges. Its front legs were corded with muscle, all power ending in a long, sharp claw. It was so sharp that it caused furrows in the stone whenever it shifted. It had a single eye, milky like an old man's with cataracts, but its ears were perked and swivelling, filled with folds of skin.
It had no prey, but was covered in blood. A deep gash leaked scarlet onto the stone, filling the ruts it created with its claw. Scores of blackened flesh were surrounded by singed hairs. Mixed in with the blood was a yellow liquid, leaking from festering pustules that looked similar to those arising from flash burns. The Dreadclaw shuddered violently in an attempt to raise itself but fell quickly.
Mondir loosed the arrow. It was a clean shot.
The Dreadclaw, already weakened, didn't have to time to scream as it keeled over, dead.
"I thought you said we were supposed to be discerning! That Dreadclaw was half dead, it wasn't dangerous!" Amos said, running to the side of the Mutabeast to see if it could still live.
"Exactly," Mondir said. He inspected his handiwork - the arrow was lodged solidly in the skull of the Dreadclaw, killing it instantly. "It was suffering. It was injured. There is something larger than it hunting in these woods."
Amos shivered at the idea of something more dangerous than the Dreadclaw. Mondir hated to waste a life, and so he showed Amos how to skin the Dreadclaw, how to remove the claw and eventually fashion it into a weapon, how to take a cut of meat. They spoke only about the task at hand while doing this.
Mondir loaded Amos with the fur but held onto the meat himself. He let Amos remove the claw. It was sharper than any knife Amos had seen before. In handling it, Mondir stood several paces away, watching. Amos accidentally brushed the tip of the claw with the back of his hand and the skin split keenly, making way for the natural blade. Blood welled to the surface and Mondir only tutted his disappointment at a job poorly done.
Eventually, Amos was successful in removing the claw. He had to shave a sharp bit off the bottom for a makeshift handle so it didn't cut his hand off when he held it, but they were ready to go.
"Forgetting something?" Mondir asked.
Amos paused. "The Mutagem!"
Mondir pointed at the claw in Amos' hand. "Use that, cut here. Not too deep."
Amos followed Mondir's instructions carefully. He carved flesh and dodged stony organs with a dextrous flick of his wrist. The practice with hunting knives was paying off.
There, like a pearl in a clam, lay the heart of the Dreadclaw. It was glowing faintly, with an inviting warmth. Amos tried wiping the blood on his clothes but he couldn't get his hands clean. He grunted in frustration and dug out the Mutagem regardless. The beasts heart was smeared with its own blood.
The Mutagem itself was thrumming. Amos felt himself being pulled into it. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt the power inside, the mana it contained.
"Using that mana will destroy it," Mondir said. "Eventually it will dissipate and become a regular gemstone."
"It's beautiful..." Amos said wistfully. He ran the tip of his finger over its surface. It was his. He marked it with his fingerprint, he was the first to touch it. He felt his heart thump for the gem, followed by a thump on the back by Mondir.
"Let's go," he said. "And give me the gem before you eat it."
"Eat it?"
"Sorry, stereotype." Mondir shrugged, "but you were going to, weren't you?"
Amos tore his gaze away from the Mutagem and looked at Mondir. There was a sad knowledge in his eyes. Amos mustn't be the first Drai he had met. With a Herculean effort, he held his hand out stiffly and dropped the gem into Mondir's hand.
The Wildman inspected it. It was a silvery thing that reflected the light in rainbows. "Moonstone," he grunted. "Could be good for you."
They left the cave together. Amos was in two minds: He was at once drunk with the thrill of a kill and the promise of riches, but saturnine in the face of what he might have done to keep that Mutagem.
I haven't even really used my powers and I'm already going insane. Maybe I really am Starcursed. Maybe Leila was right to fear me.
The forest was silent.
Nothing in the canopy. Nothing in the distant undergrowth.
Ink and Bin weren't were they left them.
Amos and Mondir shared a glance, understanding passed between them in a fraction of a second.
Something's wrong.
There's something bigger than a Dreadclaw out here...
Mondir indicated with hand signals that they should look for them together by taking the high ground. Amos climbed a nearby tree while Mondir kept guard with his bow down below. The sun was blinding, so Amos shielded his eyes with a hand and leaned around the trunk. He noticed an abnormality not far off - smoke rising from the trees.
There.
Amos slid down the tree expertly and jumped the short distance left. He met Mondir's questioning eyes and simply pointed in the direction of the smoke.
They ran.
Amos prepared himself for a fight. He checked his mana reserves - full. He gripped the Dreadclaw's, well, claw with white knuckles.
Trees, fronds, and rocks danced in Amos' peripheral vision. Adrenaline filled his muscles, but he still couldn't overtake Mondir. Then, all of a sudden, Mondir stopped. He held up a hand and Amos skidded to a halt next to him.
"Wh-" Amos began.
"Shh!" Mondir said.
They listened. Just beyond those thick trees ahead of them came the a grunting, shuffling sound.
Mondir knocked an arrow. Amos held his empty hand ready to throw fire or golden energy, Dreadclaw knife at the ready.
Then, through the undergrowth, emerged Bin dragging the lifeless, bloodied form of Ink.
"Ink!" Amos shouted and ran forth, all apprehensions forgotten. He fell to his knees and Ink's eyes fluttered open weakly. Bin growled, her mouth full of Ink's blackened and smoking shirt.
"Run..." Ink gasped, "it's..."
There was an ear-splitting roar. The kind that fills your belly with heavy dread. That informs you loudly and truthfully that you are going to die. Two giant, scaled paws adorned with claws the size of a man pushed down those heavy, hundred-year-old trees from which Bin dragged Ink to reveal the face of a terrifying Mutabeast.
Eight eyes. Tusks. Too many teeth, both yellowed with age and red with blood, showed when it roared. The back of its gullet lit a firey orange and it spewed forth a warning: A stream of flame into the sky, that fell back to the earth as a liquid.
A Terradrake!