Sweltering hot, simmering breath emitted from Vadeen's open mouth. He shuddered with each deep breath, savoring the liquid heat pooling in his abdomen. It was an arousing, tilting sensation not unlike that from a budding orgasm. The forceful thumping of his heartbeat thrummed in his ear, resounded through his mind, dominating his hearing. With painfully heightened senses, he detected the approach of his prey. He instinctively dodged the fist that went for his abdomen, then grabbed the outstretched arm and gave a twist.

His prey screamed from a broken limb, the sound an echo in his psyche. Without losing momentum, he threw the body overhead and slammed it into the ground. Before it could recover, he grabbed its neck; his kind always went for the neck. His prey squirmed and fought against him; he could sense that much. Its kicks and punches with its free arm didn't harm him despite how intensely it fought, and he licked his lips with a croon as fear permeated his flaring nostrils.

Slinging his arm back, he rammed a single punch to its face, and it immediately slackened. The smell of fear faded. His lip twitching, he growled and threw the body aside for the fourth time that day.

Weakling, a voice hissed from deep within.

He rose predatorily to his feet, stumbling and teetering. Licking bloodied lips, he searched with his exterior perceptions for the intoxicating scent of bloodlust or fright—or both.

A smirk formed on his face at the delightful thought of either. His very genetics demanded that he salivate at the mere thought of fear seasoned with the scent of blood, shudder and softly moan at the waves of arousal that washed through him. As an irratai barely out of his 80s, he bore his curse with juvenile restraint.

Around him, the sounds of feet thumping resounded through his body. Years of experience with this sensation told him the voyeuristic crowd sang praises to his display of animalistic combat.

His head snapped toward the direction where a threat dripped with bloodlust. A maniacal smile of pleasure spread his lips as the being thumped toward him at top speed.

He crooned to the demand in his psyche to maim it, neck cracking as he ticked his head to the side.

He reacted too late, causing a hard, coarse fist to meet his face. His head snapped to the side in a way that should have damaged him; he knew what a single punch could do to someone.

Yet, he stood still, shivering from yet more heat welling inside him. His tongue slid over bloodied teeth, and chills of delight rolled down his spine when the undeniable scent of fear emitted from his new prey. With a soft moan, he shuddered.

His fist rammed into a taut abdomen. Blood splattered on his face, and he licked it from his lips with a breathy purr. Something wrapped around his neck, choking him as a prehensile tail forcibly pulled him away. The smell of bloodied saliva alerted him to his prey's approach. Knuckles jammed into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs.

The tail released him as he flew back, and he quickly recovered, skidding over the ground in a crouch. He coughed, but the taste of blood in his mouth eased the pain, muddled his focus.

Brought back into a stupor, he sluggishly rose from the moist ground, arms limp and head lowered. Like a willow in the wind, he lithely dodged the oncoming attack. Vision red, unfocused, and relying on his senses, he lunged forward to tackle his prey to the ground with his hand around a thick neck.

The momentum sent them tumbling, and with its aid, he threw the large body aside. Before it could fly too far, he snagged its tail. With it in hand, he slammed the body into the dirt. Leaping over, he reached for and grabbed a fistful of hair before proceeding to send a volley of punches into its face.

He felt each painful punch to his sides from the writhing body beneath him but it failed to unnerve him. Even once the form went still, he continued striking until the smell of potent panic subsided. He slowed, then stopped. Head cocking to the side, he sniffed at the body, chest heaving hard with deep breaths.

Weakling! the voice sneered.

Slowly, he moved to his feet. Blood dripped from his nose, the corner of his mouth, and his forehead. When the dark bronze fluid reached his lips, he licked them. The taste sent the familiar shivers of pleasure through him, tickling something yearning for it inside his body. The echoes of the voice, just as pleased as he was, brought an elated, drunken smile to his face while the thumping around him increased tenfold.

He abruptly collapsed to his knees, blinking red out of his waning vision. After several long minutes, he sensed someone familiar approaching and finally closed his eyes, falling into the bloodied dirt.

The familiar soft coos of a bird stirred him back to consciousness. Muttering, he reached out, and the shifting of material brought his attention to his right. A large, calloused hand took his, familiar and gentle. He inhaled deeply and smiled at the scent of metal, licorice, and alcohol.

"Qīkā," he murmured.

"Yes, Vadeen." Another hand, coarse but tender, caressed his forehead. "You're back in Faifelethēsa."

He muttered incoherently, causing his mother to chuckle. After a moment, he managed, "Lanad?"

"He brought you back," she said, continuing to stroke his forehead. "He said you were completely out during the attack."

His eyes fluttered open as he frowned. His mother's gem-green gaze looked upon him with an easy, maternal smile. She sat beside him in a backless chair and wore her silver captain's uniform with its large hood lowered, revealing her long brown hair. Several strands of grey tresses framed the right side of her face, her signature feature.

A glance confirmed he was lying in bed in his room of the 22nd military bracket. His eyes briefly closed, only to open when a large raven jumped from the arm of his mother's chair to cuddle beside him. He placed a hand on and stroked its crown, then focused on her. "What do you mean, 'attack'?"

She moved her hand, leveling her gaze with his. "You and Lanad were attacked after leaving the slums."

"What?" He sat upright. "Is he okay?"

"Yes. He sustained some mild injuries. There were three perpetrators."

"Indrahti?"

"They used dendromancy. They have to be."

He frowned. It was obvious to him, then, that they were attacked by indrahti, but..."You don't sound certain."

She exhaled deeply, standing from the chair. Her long cape fluttered behind her as she took some steps away, running a hand through her hair. "Something doesn't feel right. It's nothing I can prove nor can I rely on…"

He moved so his feet touched the low stool at the right side of his bed and examined his body. Someone had washed, bandaged, and dressed him in a simple blue tunic and loose, matching pants. Reaching up, he felt his damp hair and briefly twirled a lock before letting the reddish strands go.

"Nian-Gyōśing is tomorrow."

He focused on his mother when she turned to look at him. It took him a moment to register that she was talking about the annual year-end military procession. "Wait, how long have I been asleep?"

She softly chuckled. "A whole day."

"Shit…" Resting his elbows on his thighs, he covered his face with his hands. "I'm sorry, Qīkā."

"Don't apologize, Érsuko." She neared and placed a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to lower his hands and meet her gaze. A soft smile flashed at him. "You exhausted yourself. Do you feel better?"

He nodded, rubbing his neck. "Yeah. Where is Lanad?"

"Out and about," she said, beckoning towards the doors of the large room, "and barely showing signs of injury."

"How bad were they?"

"Some wood pierced his leg. He barely made it away with you in arm. The culprits were strong, stronger than the terrorists from Jiiol last month."

His brows furrowed in thought. "Does the Sanyerō know?"

She winced at the mention of the military's General Commander. "Not yet. I'm not sure if I should inform her."

"Why?"

"There's…no known motive for going after you, much as I hate to say it. It's what makes this unusual…" She slightly glanced away.

He observed the expression of deep contemplation on her face. After a moment, she caught his gaze and shook her head.

"We are investigating, but as things are, this is a family-only matter."

Something on her expression told him she withheld information, causing him to narrow an eye at her.

A slight crease formed between her brows as she noticed his scrutiny. After a second of contemplation, she made a resigned sigh. "Lanad said they were after you specifically," she said, with an edge in her voice, some of her shark teeth peeking from between her lips.

"Me?" He glanced away in thought. "Someone from the slums, maybe?"

"Suicidal as it is, it would at least make sense if so, but…"

"Dendromancy. Right. Why would indrahti go to the slums?"

She shook her head. "For now, don't worry about it. Finish resting. I think your raven's been trying to tell me that."

Said raven softly cooed, rubbing its crown against his side. Smiling at it, he sighed, "Alright. I could use more sleep."

She made a soft sound of agreement, bringing his eyes back to her in time to watch her approach the double doors. "I'll see you soon, Érsuko." A green eye glanced back at him.

He nodded, then watched her leave and close the doors behind her. After listening to her footfalls fade down the hall, he softly groaned and shifted to lay back on the bed. His raven hopped on his chest, ruffled its feathers, and sat atop him. He idly brushed its silky plumage, smiling when it cooed.

After several moments in the quiet of his room, he gently drifted to sleep.