MW in hand, she scuttled up the crest. Upon reaching the peak, she saw her heater’s glow illuminating the megabulb tops, also spotting the stretched shadow of a soon-to-be-crapping-itself riverbear. Down the slope she ran, dodging around a young bulb, and into the grove. She slowed a little as she neared, noting that they weren’t exactly rifling through her things, just sort of hanging around. Maybe they just liked the heater. Cold wanderers happening upon an abandoned smoldering campfire.
‘Happen upon.’ Keep telling yourself that, idiot.
The heater’s glow was visible from every part of her little valley, and from every surrounding ridge. It’d been stupid to leave it on.
With only a few bulbs between her and her camp, Minnie raised the MW before her, inflated her lungs, opened her visor wide, and burst on the scene with her fearsome, anti-riverbear shriek. “Haauuurrrgh!!”
She skated to a stop at the edge of her camp clearing. Her mouth clamped shut, a small residual howl croaking in her throat. Her eyes darted around the site, a thumping bass drum in her ears.
Two of the three immediately rose from their huddled positions. The third lay slumped on its side, close to the heater, slack-jawed and panting, with semi-conscious eyes.
Not riverbears.
The two standing Hynka stared at Minnie as she stared back. Both appeared to be calculating as Minnie calculated. Her little thumb was always just out of reach of the MW’s lethal toggle. She’d have to run backward, reach up quickly with her other hand, or slowly shift her grip until her thumb reached. It’s how she usually toggled it, but her hand didn’t feel all that keen on loosening.
The one standing to her left—fingers twitching as it stink-eyed her—was less than a Hynka stride away. If it moved now, before she could switch to lethal, she wouldn’t have a chance. The other, a pace and a half. She couldn’t wait for them to make the first move.
“Ayk-yra,” the farther muttered.
The closer shot a glance at the farther, then back at Minnie. “Arp tprik khoh.”
Minnie recognized the word. Khoh. Stop. They were discussing the situation, assessing, probably wondering if she was a threat. She’d come screaming before them like a looner and had yet to run away.
Remaining still, she fumbled through her fone to activate Livetrans.
And then the one on the ground spoke, faint and gargling, as if it was dying. “Ha-aykh… uh-possyr.”
The other two looked at the third, startled, as the translation popped up in Minnie’s app.
LIVETRANS: No kill. It [unknown].
No kill sounded good. Minnie allowed herself to breathe and took the opportunity to slowly shift her grip, sliding her thumb over the toggle. The little indicator light changed from orange to red. Now she could most likely take out both primary threats.
She studied the visitors. All three wore multiple riverbear furs over their heads and shoulders. Though not visibly connected to each other, the furs overlapped and made up a sort of hooded cloak. Hynka had never been observed with any type of clothing. Then again, as she’d erroneously consoled herself earlier, they’d also never been observed anywhere close to this far north. Yes, Hynka stretched their boundaries in search of food, but these three would’ve found food aplenty—and certainly better weather—2,000K south of this place.
Whatever the motivation, once they’d reached this latitude, it certainly made sense to stick around. Those bulbs didn’t grow anywhere else in the world, and nothing else grew in this region for hundreds of kilometers in every direction.
Bulbs drew the snake things to their root system.
Snake things drew riverbears.
Hynka apparently enjoyed riverbears. And warmth.
The closer Hynka studied Minnie once more before turning to the farther.
LIVETRANS: It home. Not we.
Farther replied, angry—sounding much more like a typical representative of its people—gesturing at the one on the ground.
LIVETRANS: [unknown] with! Hot [unknown] [unknown]!
These guys clearly had their own regional dialect. Minnie wondered if they’d even understand words from Ish’s DB. Fascinated by the relatively composed discourse before her, she elected to attempt communication over all of the other sketchy options she’d thrown around. She linked Livetrans to her suit PA and prepared for an unexpected response. Hell, Livetrans might speak to them in the accent of their mortal enemies’ clan. There was no way to predict their reaction.
She composed a greeting and watched Livetrans simplify it, paring down 33 words to the 10 that conveyed the basic sentiment.
She waited for their current exchange of countless unknowns to end, then sent the message through her PA.
“No kill. Hot stay. Home mine. Home we. Down we.”
Their gawking stares sent chills down her legs. Even the sick one’s eyes widened and found Minnie’s face as all stood in awestruck silence.
The one on the ground lurched and began breathing heavily once more, then murmured.
LIVETRANS: [unknown] speaks.
Without a single step taken toward her over the past two inexplicable minutes, Minnie dared a weakening of her position. She slowly lowered the MW (that they wouldn’t know to be threatened by, anyway), and began a gradual squat, repeating the end of her message.
“Down we.”
The one closest to her began bending its legs, then shot a look at the other standing Hynka, and growled the same words.
LIVETRANS: Down we!
The other complied and Minnie’s head buzzed with delight as all three standing individuals eased into seated positions around the heater. The Hynka still towered over her, losing a mere quarter of their height while Minnie reduced to half. She felt like a mouse sitting with cats.
Minnie had rehearsed this moment since she was 14 years old. She readied Livetrans and stretched an arm out sideways, bringing her palm back to her chest.
“Call Minnie.”
The one closest to her worked its long mouth around, trying the sounds, then said carefully, “Nn-neee.”
Right, no M without lips. Ninnee will do just fine.
Minnie heard the sick one faintly say it as well, before resuming its labored breathing. The farther, largest Hynka scooted closer to its ill comrade and pressed a hand on its back.
The Hynka beside Minnie shared its own name.
“Call Fitchsher.”
Trying her best to remain present in the moment, head above the surreal, Minnie felt her chest quaking as she attempted it on her own. “Fitch-sher.”
Fitchsher’s head rolled around, fingernail tips poking the frost excitedly. Fitchsher pointed to the groaning Hynka on his other side.
“Baby in. Call Leeg.” Not sick. She was in labor. Fitchsher pointed to the last of the three. “Leeg… Onjr.”
Minnie looked at the female and said, “Leeg.” She turned to the male she guessed was the baby’s father. “Onjr.”
Leeg began howling from deep inside, like wind from the far end of a tunnel. Onjr continued playing the supportive birthing room husband, tapping Leeg’s back and pulling her arm up, then dropping it to her side… helpfully?
Fitchsher placed his fists on the ground, rotating on his backside to face Minnie. Somehow, despite this killing machine’s size and weapon array, in that instant he appeared as a kindergartner.