Malyn was silent for a moment, listening to the wind sigh through the leaves. “Are you planning to leave after you figure things out?”

“Well, I suppose that would depend on what I figure out.”

“I guess. Do your parents live in Nuuvatu?”

“Ah… well, that’s another thing we do a little differently. We’re not raised by our parents.”

“Who did raise you, then?”

“Children are raised in groups by specialised carers.”

Malyn didn’t want to be too quick to judge, but he found himself frowning. “Like group homes or something?”

“I’m not sure what that is. We live in groups of about six similarly aged children with two carers who look after us and educate us. I can see why it might sound bad, but it ensures that every child truly has an equal, and positive, start in life. Every carer is thoroughly trained and vetted. No child is mistreated or neglected.”

“That hasn’t been my experience with institutions raising kids, but I’ll take your word for it,” Malyn said. “So do you have biological siblings, or is it just like the kids you were raised with are your siblings?”

“The latter. I’m still very close with those who ended up in this world. Did you have siblings?”

“I did. I know my mum lost a couple of babies either when I was too young to remember or before I was born. My parents didn’t talk about it much, so that’s about all I know about that. And I had a younger brother.”

“Oh. By ‘had,’ do you mean…?”

“He died.”

“Oh,” Tyla was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Some respiratory disease. He was eight. I was ten. We both caught it. I got better and he didn’t. I still have scarring in my lungs, though. Get out of breath quicker than I should and I’m always getting chest infections.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Yeah,” Malyn admitted, the word catching in his throat. “It’s weird. Where I was from, death felt like something you had to be a little bit okay with. You had to carry on even when people died much, much too young, because it happened constantly. But then I came here, and things were different, and it took me so long to realise that I was actually a little fucked up by the whole thing and that was why I got so anxious whenever anyone got so much as a cold even once I knew that young, healthy people here don’t usually drop dead from whatever bug winter brought their way.”

“I can’t imagine. Truly, I can’t. We don’t get sick, at least not from communicable diseases. It must be terrifying to be a child and know that’s a battle your little body will have to face, and that it might not win. That a younger sibling will be fighting the same fight and you can’t help.”

Malyn nodded. His throat felt tight. “I like to think that if he had survived and we’d ended up here together, we’d have stayed close. I don’t really know, though. We were kids, and we tend to like to remember the good parts of people after they die.”

Tyla reached out, placed his hand on Malyn’s arm, and just held on.

“Thank you,” Malyn whispered.

Tyla rubbed Malyn’s arm and then squeezed it again before letting go. “I’m sorry if I don’t always know the right thing to say or do. I feel like all of you have been through so much more than I have, and so young. Well, you and Finch, anyway. I’m not sure what Adin’s story is.”

“You know, I’ve lived with the man for two years and I knew him casually for years before that, and neither do I. I think Finch knows. Well, he knows more than I do, anyway.”

“I know nothing at all, but I’ve always felt strange about him being the person who makes me late night peanut butter sandwiches. I’m not sure why, but it feels… unfitting.”

“I agree, but at the same time, who’s to really say where we fit? I’m glad he’s a part of our family and he seems happy with us.”

“Oh, absolutely. I never intended to suggest otherwise. It’s just… I don’t know. Incongruous? Though, again, that’s purely speculation when I know so little.”

“Well, as long as he doesn’t stop feeding me, he can be as incongruous as he likes.” A flicker of movement in the deep shadows below, a disruption of the patterns of leaf and branch, caught Malyn’s eye. He went still, every muscle tensing. “Hey, don’t react, but I just saw something move over there.”

“Ah. Do you think it’s our dog?”

“Hopefully. Most animals don’t move towards the sound of humans.” Malyn held his breath, straining his ears against the rustle of the wind. A twig snapped. “I think it’s circling around.”

“What’s our strategy?”

“I don’t think it’ll attack while we’re up here. Too high. I’m guessing it’s planning to wait for us to come down, so I’m going to have to just get it over with. Fortunately, I know how to jump from this height without breaking my ankles.”

“I can make you an arrow, but if it’s waiting to attack, you’ll likely only get one shot.”

Malyn scoffed. “When have I ever needed more?”

“Occasionally. You’re not perfect.”

“Oof, harsh words.” Malyn shot him a grin. “I’ll be fine.”

Tyla twiddled his fingers and swirling purple smoke coalesced into the solid shape of an arrow. Malyn took it, the surface humming against his skin with contained energy. Clenching it in his hand was an odd sensation, more like trying to force the poles of two powerful magnets together than holding a physical object.

Malyn swung his legs over the edge of the platform and dropped, landing on the balls of his feet and letting his body fall into a squat to absorb the impact. He barely had time to straighten up before the dog burst from the trees, a blur of dark fur and snarling teeth. Malyn brought his bow up, the magical arrow finding the string as if by instinct, and let it fly. The creature dropped instantly, the arrow punching through its skull with a loud, wet crack, its magical force far greater than any normal projectile.

Malyn let out the breath he’d been holding in a shaky gust, shot Tyla a triumphant smile, and went to examine the body.

According to Adin, they weren’t technically dogs, but some kind of giant mustelid. When Malyn had just looked at him blankly, Adin had explained that mustelids were things like ferrets, wolverines, and badgers. Those all seemed like very different animals to Malyn, but looking at it now, he could see it. The tiny ears, the short, powerful legs, the distinctly un-doglike paws with their long claws.

He glanced back as Tyla started down the ladder. As Tyla’s feet hit the ground, his gaze snapped past Malyn, his eyes widening in horror, mouth opening to shout a warning. Malyn spun, reaching for a normal arrow from his quiver, but just as his fingers brushed the fletching, his arm was wrenched away.

Teeth. Crushing, searing pressure around his forearm, and his first panicked thought was that he'd screwed up somehow—that the thing wasn't dead, that the arrow through its skull hadn't been enough. It jerked its head, trying to break bone, but he moved with the motion, minimising how deeply the teeth tore into his flesh. There was a bright flash of light and a deafening crack of displaced air. Malyn felt the dog’s jaw release his arm as he squeezed his eyes shut against the glare.

When he opened them again, the world slowly swimming back into focus, the dog was lying on the ground, half its body simply gone. Right next to another dog with a familiar hole through its head. Ah. There had been two of them.

“So…” Malyn said, his voice a little shaky. “Think they’ll pay us double for this?”

Tyla was pale and sweaty, his chest heaving. “Are you okay?”

Malyn glanced at his arm. There were clearly defined bite marks in his forearm, but they weren't bleeding. The flesh around each puncture was pale and eaten-looking, the skin sloughing at the edges where the acid was still working. "I'm fine, but we should probably wash out this acid before it gets any worse. We can come back for the bodies afterwards."

Tyla gave a shaky nod.

“Hey, I’m okay. It’s over.” Malyn reached out with his good hand and squeezed Tyla’s shoulder. “We know how many dogs originally came through that breach because they were caught on a security camera. The second one out here was a surprise, but we know there can’t be any more. There were only two left unaccounted for.”

“I know, I just…” Tyla gestured vaguely at the obliterated creature, still struggling to catch his breath. “It surprised me. And I used too much energy.”

“Oh!” Malyn looked at the dog again. Not only was it blasted in half, but a wide circle of the forest floor around it was scorched black, the leaves turned to ash. “Yeah, you went a little overboard. Can you walk?”

Tyla nodded. “Let’s go. We need to take care of your arm.”

Malyn’s arm hadn’t really hurt at all at first, shock and adrenaline doing their job, but on the walk back it started with a deep, hot throb that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Honestly, Malyn was fine with that. An injury this gnarly should hurt. 

Tyla still looked frail when they reached the bike, but he insisted on digging out the bottle of water from the saddlebags himself. Malyn held out his arm, biting the inside of his cheek as Tyla carefully poured a slow, steady stream over the bite.

“Sorry,” Tyla murmured as he used a cloth to press around the edges of the wound, but Malyn just shook his head, gritting his teeth. They had to clean it properly or the acid would burn deeper.

“I think it’s okay now,” Malyn said after a few more minutes of careful rinsing. “It doesn’t feel burny in the same way it did before.”

Tyla nodded. He patted Malyn's arm dry with a tissue, his touch feather-light, then dabbed antiseptic cream over the area before covering it in gauze and wrapping it securely in a bandage.

Malyn examined Tyla’s handywork, nodded, and retrieved a roll of large, heavy duty garbage bags and some duct tape from his saddlebags. “Let’s go get those bodies.”

Tyl hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want to call Finch and have him come and drive you back? You probably shouldn’t be using your arm, and I don’t think I’ll be much help. Normally I’d use a spell to lighten the weight of the bodies, but I just wasted all that energy. I could try helping you carry them, but I’m not very strong…”

“Tyla, it’s okay,” Malyn said. “I’m fine. I’ll just wrap them up and carry them back one at a time over my shoulder.”

“Okay…” Tyla said, but he still sounded fretty. “Can you drive with your arm hurt?”

“Hold these.” Malyn passed Tyla the garbage bags and duct tape and dug back into the first aid kit. He swallowed a couple of painkillers, washing them down with the last of the water. “There. That should tide me over until we get back.”

“Okay. I’m sorry I don’t know any healing magic. It’s tricky, and… well, we have people for that. It would be like training to become a doctor just for your own personal purposes when you don’t plan to work as one.”

“No, that makes sense,” Malyn said as they started walking back into the woods. “There are tons of things that I technically could learn how to do, but like… it would take me years, and for what? Humans can do some cool shit. Play piano and do backflips and paint beautiful landscapes. I’d like to be able to do those things, but everything takes time and work to learn. Most people pick just one or two things to focus on.”

“Yes, it’s quite like that.”

“How do you do it? Magic, I mean.”

“It’s like… mental patterns? You have to be able to go through the pattern in your mind and put intention behind it. Patterns can be longer or shorter, simple or more complex. Making arrows for you is short but complex. I can do it quickly, but it took me a long time to memorise the pattern behind it.”

Malyn shot him a smile. “Thanks for learning for me. I like that we get to work together as a team.”

“Me too. You were fine before I got here, so I know you don’t need me, but I’m not much of a fighter on my own. I think I work better as support.”

“I need you in order to be what I am now, and what I am now is better than what I was without you. I mean, no pressure or anything, if you do decide you want to move on…”

“We’re a long-lived people. I’m in no rush to go anywhere.”

Getting the dogs into the garbage bags was… an experience. The one Tyla had blasted in half was particularly messy business. Tyla kept apologising for going so overboard on it, but Malyn was just happy his arm was relatively intact. He’d have some gnarly scars, but that would be the extent of the long-term damage.

They hauled the bodies back to the bike one at a time and strapped the heavy, black-plastic-wrapped bundles to the back with a spiderweb of bungee cords.

Malyn climbed onto the bike, wincing as he put weight on his injured arm to grip the handlebars. He smiled as Tyla tucked in close behind him, his arms circling Malyn's waist in that familiar, comforting way. “Let’s go collect our bounty.”