Chapter Text
9 years old…
Quiet now. Quiet, quiet…
Ikrie bit her lip hard to stop herself from laughing. Two rabbits hung from her belt already; she just needed one more in order to win the bet. She had to keep her giggling under control if she wanted to shoot straight.
But Mailen’s shocked expression kept popping into her head. Ikrie snickered softly, then pressed her lips together. Ikrie’s helmet was still askew from when Mailen had pounced on her in retaliation, but it was worth it to hear Mailen’s squeal of indignation when Ikrie had shoved that snowball down her trousers.
A very subtle movement to Ikrie’s left drew her attention, and all amusement slipped away as she spotted her prey: a white rabbit, almost completely hidden by the snow.
But no rabbit could stay hidden forever from Ikrie’s sharp eyes.
She silently drew an arrow and nocked it, then took aim… and the rabbit’s ears twitched in her direction. The rabbit suddenly leapt away, but Ikrie wasn’t discouraged: she adjusted her aim and shot, and the rabbit’s snow-white fur was marked with a triumphant spot of red as the arrow hit home.
Ikrie stood up and grinned. “Mailen!” she bellowed. “I’m done!” She trotted over to the rabbit and pulled the arrow out, then wiped it in the grass before returning it to her quiver.
“You’re lying!” Mailen’s reply echoed over to her, and Ikrie laughed loudly, then held up her last rabbit. “I never lie. And I never lose.”
Mailen finally appeared with two rabbits hanging from her waist. She groaned in dismay as she inspected Ikrie’s three rabbits. “How do you always win? It’s so unfair.”
Ikrie stretched her arms leisurely and grinned at her friend. “It’s not unfair. I’m just the best huntress in all the land.”
Mailen shot her a cynical look and shoved her. “Not to mention humble and quiet,” Mailen retorted, but her lips were pulled up in a smile. Then she sighed in resignation. “All right, I guess I’m roasting your meat tonight.”
Ikrie raised her eyebrows. “Tonight? Nice try. Our bet was for a week!”
Mailen’s jaw dropped. “A week? Was not!”
Ikrie laughed. “Now who’s the liar? You’re cooking my food for a week. You said it yourself.”
Mailen shoved her again. “There’s no way I’d agree to that!”
“You did too!” Ikrie picked up a handful of snow and whipped it at Mailen’s face, and Mailen immediately retaliated by flinging an armful of snow at Ikrie. Moments later, they were grappling in the snowdrifts as Mailen pulled off Ikrie’s helmet and tried to force a handful of frozen white powder into Ikrie’s hood.
“Stop! Stop! Okay, I’m lying!” Ikrie yelled, wiggling fitfully as Mailen seated herself firmly on Ikrie’s back and hauled her hood back. “The bet was for a day! You’re right!” She shrieked with laughter as Mailen finally succeeded in shoving a snowball against her neck.
“Ikrie! Mailen!”
Immediately Mailen’s weight left Ikrie’s back as she stood up. Ikrie rose more slowly, scraping futilely at the inside her hood before facing Mailen’s father, Tiluk.
He glared down at the two girls. “You’re meant to be hunting, not playing.”
“We are,” Ikrie replied pertly. She pointed to the rabbits she and Mailen had captured and abandoned in the snow, but Mailen elbowed her sharply, and she closed her mouth.
Tiluk continued to frown at them in silence until Ikrie dropped her eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet but hard. “Banuk hunters do not make noise. They do not play. Survival is not a game. Do you understand?”
Mailen nodded silently, but Tiluk’s eyes were on Ikrie. He stared at her until she finally nodded as well, then picked up the rabbits and took Mailen’s arm. He berated Mailen quietly as he pulled her back towards the camp. “You two are the last children to return. If this was a true hunt and not an exercise, your werak would leave you behind.”
Ikrie picked up her helmet, then trailed after Tiluk and Mailen with a sigh. Once they’d reached the camp, Tiluk released Mailen’s arm and jerked his chin towards the practice target. “Now practice. Both of you.” He shot Ikrie a forbidding glance, then walked away to supervise the other children.
Mailen obediently pulled out her bow and aimed at the target, but Ikrie groaned. “This is so boring,” she complained. “How are we gonna get better if we don’t practice on moving targets? We need to go out with the real hunters.”
“We can’t, remember? Thanks to you.” Mailen’s voice was stern, but Ikrie could see the little smirk at the corner of her lips as she shot the target perfectly.
“Come on, that was an accident!” Ikrie protested. “And it showed that my traps work! And that hunter was only attacked by a Watcher! And he was fine. I could have taken it on myself.” She kicked a stray pebble resentfully. “They’re just punishing me to be mean.”
Mailen lowered her bow in exasperation. “A Watcher is three times bigger than you. Don’t be stupid.”
“Okay, fine, not me alone,” Ikrie conceded. “But you and me together…?” Ikrie waggled her eyebrows and elbowed her best friend.
Mailen finally smiled, but rolled her eyes. “We’re not strong enough yet. We need to keep training.”
“Yeah yeah,” Ikrie said dismissively. What she didn’t tell Mailen was that she often snuck out of their tent at night to go hunting on her own while Mailen was asleep. A few nights ago, she actually had taken down a Watcher all by herself with a combination of traps, freeze bombs and arrows. She’d been exhausted the next day and had needed to pretend she’d had nightmares to explain why she looked so tired, but how else was she going to truly learn to hunt unless it was with real targets and real danger?
She looked at Mailen confidently. “We’ll be the best hunters when we’re grown up. We can do anything, Mailen. The White Teeth will beg us to join them someday, you’ll see.”
Mailen’s eyebrows lifted with longing. The White Teeth were her heroes. She sighed, then turned determinedly back to the practice target. “Only if I get better,” she said. She threw Ikrie a slightly envious look as she shot another arrow. “I wish I was as good as you. You’re so lucky.”
Ikrie shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess the Blue Light gave me a gift,” she quipped, then grinned as Mailen stuck her tongue out. Ikrie felt bad sometimes for not telling Mailen about her nighttime hunts, but she didn’t want to get Mailen in trouble. Ikrie didn’t care what Mailen’s parents thought of her; they were already annoyed at having to raise a second child after Ikrie’s own parents had left her when she was a baby. But Mailen wanted to make her parents happy. If Ikrie was going to break the rules, she didn’t want to drag Mailen down with her.
She idly watched Mailen shooting arrows for a while, then pointed at Mailen’s foot. “Your foot’s crooked.”
Mailen lowered her bow, then smacked Ikrie’s lopsided helmet. “Your head’s crooked.”
Ikrie kicked Mailen’s foot, then snickered as Mailen tried to pinch her arm.
“Ikrie.”
A sudden dull pain sliced across the backs of Ikrie’s thighs as Tiluk smacked her legs with his spear. He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from Mailen. “I lose more patience every day with your foolishness,” he snapped. He positioned her in front of a practice target about twenty paces away from Mailen, then crouched in front of her and looked her in the eye.
“You’re a strong hunter for a child. But you are selfish,” he told her firmly. “Mailen is weaker than you. Her instincts are duller. She will not become the hunter she needs to be if you continue this behaviour.”
Ikrie swallowed hard and dropped her eyes as Tiluk continued to speak. “Mailen needs to get stronger on her own. Your friendship will only distract her. Leaving a person alone can be the best way to encourage their survival. That’s what your parents did by leaving you with us.”
Ikrie scowled and roughly wiped away the tear that rolled down her face, but the lump in her throat stopped her from speaking. Tiluk gazed sternly at her for another moment, then stood and jerked his chin at the target. “Now practice. Quietly.” Then he walked away.
Ikrie bit her lip and kept her eyes on the ground until Tiluk was out of earshot. Then she pulled her bow from her back and began to shoot arrows at the target, pretending it was Tiluk’s big, stupid face that she was shooting.
A few arrows later, she glanced at Mailen to find Mailen watching her worriedly. Mailen raised her eyebrows questioningly.
Ikrie forced herself to smile, then stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes. Mailen grinned, and Ikrie’s face relaxed into a genuine smile as both girls obediently returned to their target practice.
Tiluk thought he was so smart just because he was a grown-up. But Ikrie didn’t care what he said. Mailen was her best friend - her only friend in the whole world. And nothing was going to pull them apart.
*************************
14 years old…
Ikrie glanced worriedly at Mailen as they kneeled in front of the pyre. Mailen’s face was pale and drawn, but her expression was blank; her grief was evident only in the bags under her eyes and the slight uptilt of her eyebrows.
The funeral rites had ended an hour ago. Everyone else had already drifted back to their regular activities; death was common among their people, and drawn-out grieving discouraged as it interfered with survival. But Mailen remained, and Ikrie would stay as long as Mailen was here.
Some time later, Ikrie tentatively reached out and took Mailen’s hand. She was relieved when Mailen squeezed her fingers in return. Mailen had been so quiet since the hunting incident yesterday; her stillness had been so brittle and icy, like a half-thawed pond, and Ikrie was uncertain how best to help her.
Ikrie laced her fingers into Mailen’s and leaned into her shoulder. “How are you feeling?” she whispered.
She watched as Mailen’s throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing. Then Mailen shook her head slightly, her eyes still fixed on the flaming pyre.
Ikrie watched her worriedly for a moment longer, then tugged gently at her hand. “Come on. Let’s go for a hike. We’ll go to your favourite spot near the Frostfangs.”
Mailen squeezed her fingers more firmly, then finally spoke. “No. I need to hunt.”
Ikrie tilted her head sadly. Mailen was the most determined and hard-working young hunter in the settlement. She rarely ever took a break from the hunt, and when Ikrie did manage to cajole her into going hiking or snowshoeing or swimming in the rainbow pools, she could tell how guilty Mailen felt for not working on her hunting skills.
Ikrie slid her arm around Mailen’s shoulders. “Mailen… everything doesn’t have to be about the hunt. Being the best hunter isn’t the most important thing-”
Mailen suddenly knocked Ikrie’s arm away, and Ikrie recoiled in surprise at the sudden anger in Mailen’s blazing eyes. “You’re wrong,” she snapped. “It is about the hunt. That’s what really matters. If my parents had been better hunters, if they hadn’t been so focused on trying to make me be better, then that Scorcher, it…” She took a deep, shaky breath.
“Hey,” Ikrie crooned. She stroked Mailen’s arm gently, then almost lost her balance as Mailen suddenly buried her face against Ikrie’s neck. Ikrie instantly wrapped her arms around Mailen’s shaking body and pressed her cheek against Mailen’s ear. She ignored the dampness of Mailen’s tears and ran her hand soothingly along her back.
“They were proud of you. I know they were,” Ikrie whispered. Mailen gave a bitter little laugh against her neck, and Ikrie squeezed her more tightly. “Besides, I’m proud of you,” Ikrie added. “You’re a great hunter. You’ll join the White Teeth someday. I know it. You and me together, we can do anything.”
Mailen’s arms tightened around Ikrie’s waist. “But Father, he… He always said the law of survival…”
“I don’t care about that,” Ikrie interrupted. “I really don’t. We have each other. That’s what we need to survive.”
Mailen was silent for a long time, her breath warm against Ikrie’s neck. When the tension of Mailen’s body finally began to dissolve, Ikrie pressed a gentle kiss to Mailen’s cheek. “Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s go on that hike. Okay?”
Mailen shook her head, then lifted her face from Ikrie’s neck and wiped her face briskly. “No,” she said again. “I need to hunt. Really. It’s the only way…” She sighed, then stared frankly at Ikrie. “I have to do this. I have to be better.”
Ikrie gazed back at her hopelessly, but didn’t try to contradict her. Mailen was incredibly stubborn, and Ikrie could tell from the look on Mailen’s face that she wouldn’t be budging this time.
Mailen rose to her feet, and Ikrie rose as well. “I’m coming with you,” Ikrie said.
Mailen hesitated, and Ikrie reached out and took her hand. “I know you think you need to practice alone. I know,” she said. “But…”
I want to be here for you. The words sat at the tip of Ikrie’s tongue, but she forced herself to hold them back. Mailen was self-conscious about being a burden, and it made Ikrie’s heart hurt; Mailen was a strong and capable hunter, and she didn’t seem to see it. But the support that Ikrie was offering now had nothing to do with hunting prowess. She gazed steadily at Mailen, hoping that Mailen would see the promise in her eyes.
Finally Mailen nodded and offered Ikrie a small smile. Ikrie smiled back with no small amount of relief and followed Mailen back to their tent to grab their hunting gear.
Mailen might think she wasn’t strong, but Ikrie knew different. And she’d always be there to remind Mailen of her worth.
*********************
19 years old…
“No. No! I’ll do it myself!”
Ikrie flinched away from Mailen’s wildly swinging arm and tried to slide a metal strut under her broken leg. “You can’t,” Ikrie snapped. “You need to sit still. Let me just-”
“No!” Mailen yelled, and Ikrie looked around worriedly. Mailen’s shouting was going to attract machine attention, and Ikrie wasn’t sure if she’d be able to defend Mailen against a group of machines on her own. More importantly, if Mailen kept thrashing around, she was going worsen her injury.
Mailen shoved at her, and finally Ikrie held her hands up in defeat and sat back on her heels. “Fine, fine,” she said soothingly. “You try.”
Mailen breathed heavily as she leaned forward and reached for the the metal strut. Her cheeks were flushed and sickly, and Ikrie inhaled slowly through her nose to quell her rising panic. I should have gotten her back down the mountain right after this happened, she thought for the hundredth time. If only she’d talked Mailen around instead of going along with what Mailen wanted to do! But Mailen had been so damn insistent on finishing this damned ordeal for the damned White Teeth. It was either do as Mailen wanted or leave her to finish the ordeal alone, and the latter choice was never an option that Ikrie would choose.
But Mailen was feverish now. The delirium had set in yesterday morning, and was only getting worse. Mailen wouldn’t let Ikrie examine her broken leg, but Ikrie was certain the leg was infected or bleeding on the inside. Or both.
Mailen’s hands trembled as she reached for the cords that would tie the strut to her leg. She tried to grasp one cord, but her vision seemed clouded: she missed the cord, grabbing instead at thin air, then hissed in frustration before leaning back against the wall of the small ice cave where Ikrie had dragged her three days ago.
Ikrie sat silently, watching Mailen’s chest rise and fall with laborious breaths. Then Ikrie spoke very quietly. “May I tie the splint?”
Mailen took a deep breath, and Ikrie braced herself for the onslaught. Sure enough, Mailen yelled, “No. The law of survival says I have to do this alone. You shouldn’t even be here. I shouldn’t have let you come.”
Ikrie bit her tongue until she tasted blood. Slowly she shuffled over to sit beside Mailen and leaned back against the wall of the cave.
The two women were silent for a long time. The sound of Mailen’s laboured breathing was largely disguised by the howling wind, but Ikrie’s anxious ears picked up every inhalation. Finally Mailen broke the silence. “You shouldn’t be here. You could die.”
“So could you,” Ikrie retorted quietly, and Mailen swelled with fresh indignation. “I need to do this!” she snapped furiously. “I’ll survive this, and then I’ll be a runner with the White Teeth, and then everyone will see-” She broke off with a gasp of pain and grabbed convulsively at her thigh.
Ikrie couldn’t help herself. Mailen’s agony was setting her teeth on edge. “Mailen, just let me-”
“I told you, no!” Mailen yelled hoarsely. “I don’t need you to do everything for me. I don’t need you. My father was right. You’re just getting in my way.”
Ikrie sat back again and closed her eyes to force back the tears that were threatening to spill over. There was a cold ball of pain in her chest that had been growing for years, formed around the seed of Mailen’s zealous obsession with the White Teeth and that damn cursed law of survival. With every year that had gone by, Mailen had pushed Ikrie away a little more, distancing herself from Ikrie in favour of the hunt and preferring tales of the White Teeth’s deeds over Ikrie’s jokes. With every cold moment of scorn and every refusal to spend time together, another suffocating layer was added to the chill in Ikrie’s chest until it felt like there was a hideous lump of ice there instead of a heart.
She’s just delirious, Ikrie told herself. She doesn’t mean it. But Ikrie was losing conviction in her own words. At this moment, in this cave with Mailen’s contemptuous dismissal ringing in her ears, the ball of ice in her chest felt ready to burst.
Finally Ikrie rose to her feet. “I’m hungry,” she lied. “I’m going to hunt. I’ll be back.”
Mailen grunted a confirmation, and Ikrie left the cave without another word.
Quietly but swiftly she climbed out of the shallow valley, then made her way along the path down the Icefather. She had no real destination in mind; she didn’t want to stray too far from Mailen, but being in that cave surrounded by the ugly cloud of Mailen’s rejection was more than Ikrie could bear.
Soon she came upon a pack of Lancehorns. Swiftly she crept into the long grass and eyed the machines’ horns covetously. The feeble metal strut under Mailen’s leg was the only piece of metal Mailen had been able to grab, but if Ikrie brought her a good, strong Lancehorn’s horn, then maybe…
Maybe she’ll hate me even more, Ikrie thought bitterly. A pang of bitterness squeezed her throat. Maybe I really shouldn’t have come on this trial with her. I don’t even care about the stupid White Teeth. But Ikrie couldn’t let Mailen do this alone. Ever since they’d been small, Ikrie had promised Mailen she’d be by her side every step of the way.
But now, crouched alone in the grass staring at a pack of Lancehorns, Ikrie prodded ruthlessly at a truth that she’d been pushing away for years. Things aren’t like they used to be. She doesn’t want me by her side every step of the way. And yet Ikrie continued to follow Mailen across Ban-Ur and into the Cut, waiting passively for a shard of Mailen’s attention…
She bit her lip hard, wishing the sting pain in her lip could erase the ache behind her sternum. In some small part of her mind, she’d known what this ordeal would mean. She’d known that when - not if, but when - Mailen joined the White Teeth, she would sunder herself from Ikrie for good. But Ikrie hadn’t been able to stop herself from following the only person she’d ever loved, even if it meant Mailen would leave her behind.
Now Mailen was injured, and pushing Ikrie away more vociferously than she ever had before. And Ikrie felt powerless to help.
Curse the White Teeth. Curse the stupid law of survival, and all of Ban-Ur and all their stupid, backwards ways. If it wasn’t for them, Mailen would be fine, Ikrie thought furiously. Fury was good. Fury would propel her into action. Sadness could come later, when Mailen was safe.
Ikrie unhooked her sling from her waist, then aimed an icebomb at the herd. She waited until the machines were clustered close together, then hit them with a swift barrage of icebombs. She bolted from the grass and began slamming her spear into the machines’ eyes one by one.
An arrow suddenly sprouted from the eyes of the nearest Lancehorn, destroying the machine in a shower of sparks and glass, and Ikrie looked up in alarm.
A small figure leapt down into the valley: a woman about Ikrie’s age, with shockingly red hair and a Banuk bow in hand. She wore strange armour that glittered and rippled with light, and Ikrie stared in wonder; she’d never seen anything like it before.
The strange outlander shoved her hair back impatiently, revealing a stern expression and sharp hazel eyes. She approached Ikrie without hesitation, her gaze darting over Ikrie’s body as though she was scanning for injuries.
Finally the outlander met Ikrie’s eyes and tilted her head quizzically. “Are you all right?” she asked.
Am I all right? It was freezing cold, and Ikrie’s boots weren’t keeping her feet warm anymore. Ikrie and Mailen had been in these mountains for three days, and Mailen had been screaming vitriol at her for two of them. Before this, she’d spent years trailing in Mailen’s wake, waiting in vain for her rare flashes of affection, clutching those moments close like flames in the night.
Ikrie took a deep breath and stared back at the outlander. The outlander’s face was serious, but her eyes were deep and warm with compassion.
For the first time in days, Ikrie smiled.