Bai’s acute senses were tingling. Her nose twitched. Her eyes glinted. She felt alive, as though the earth itself was pulsing with arcane energy. She savored the feeling, gripped the ground with her toes and let it fill her.

            She was ready. The hunt was on.

            She ran. Bamboo leaves cut her face, but she did not care. She was gaining ground, nothing could stop her. Her prey was in sight. Would he try to hide? Continue running? These questions added to the thrill of the chase.

            Years of practice made Bai aware of the exact second her fleet-footed evader was in range. Precise calculations were reduced to instinct in this game.

            Bai felt it, like an electric shock. She pounced…

            Skin smacked skin, and two bodies tumbled into the dirt, writhing, each trying to get the upper hand. Bai twisted and pushed her opponent to the ground. The fight was over.

            “Not fair!” Howled Amsi. “You always win!”

            Bai stuck her tongue out at her captive. “Hush, little brother. I’m just a better hunter then you.”

            Amsi pouted. “I’m littler then you. You should let me win at least once.”

            “Ah, but that would be cheating.” Bai unpinned Amsi. “But come on, it’s time we get home anyway.” She glanced up at the purple sky. “It’s already getting light, and Father says it’s not safe for us to be out in the day anymore.”

            The pair ran towards home, like two colorful birds fluttering erratically through the bamboo thicket. Bai was engaged with thoughts of tomorrow already. Home was nice, but only exploring could hold her attention. Perhaps she would try to find the outer edges of the bamboo thicket that completely surrounded her home… if there were edges. She had never known anything but home, and the seemingly endless bamboo thicket. But Father told stories of the land outside. He told of strange beasts and odd contraptions and other things that Bai couldn’t even begin to understand. Beauty, adventure, and danger. Bai hungered for it.

            Amsi was far ahead now, probably already home. Bai slowed to a trot as she approached the edges of the bamboo forest, licking her lips in anticipation of her dinner. But something was wrong. Something foul and suffocating swept across her face, making her cough. Smoke? Why?

            Bai sprinted into the clearing that held her home. Plumes of smoke gushed from the windows of the tiny structure, and the straw roof was already impregnated with sparks and threatening to set ablaze.

            A shadow moved, to the side of the structure. Bai whirled.

            “Amsi?” She called. “Amsi, come to me!”

            The shadow stood. It was not Amsi, but instead a man. A black cloth obscured all but his eyes.

            He held a torch.

            Bai howled with fury and lunged at him, but before she could dig her nails into his throat he flitted away. He melted into the bamboo, smoke.

            “Come back and fight, coward!” She screamed. There was no answer. Bai lay in the dirt, sobbing.

            She only found the strength to move her body, which felt like a sack of coal, when she noticed sparks settling in the perimeter of bamboo. She considered letting the impending fire overtake her… but no.

            Bai climbed to her feet and ran.

            She wandered. Time didn’t matter. It slipped through her fingers like water, sometimes fast, sometimes slow.

            All that was left of the bamboo thicket were ashes and a few blackened spines of bamboo, crumpled but still standing. It was like a field of faceless statues, thought Bai as she said a final goodbye. Faceless, nameless, statues. Like me. No family to recognize my face, no name. Just my senses, to untangle a new land with. My memories, and myself.

            Her loneliness, at first a pain so sharp it made her want to curl in on herself and whimper, faded in time to a dull ache in her belly.

            She wandered.

The land she found beyond the bamboo was strange indeed. There were plants and beasts of all kinds and sizes. Structures were huge, and showed more range in style then Bai could have imagined. She played it safe and spent most of her time hiding.

            One day, she found a marsh filled with an unknown plant. The tall stalks reminded her of her native bamboo, and made a good hiding place for a frightened outcast.

            A man came every day. This creature didn’t look like her, but she was not frightened of him. He tended the plants. Bai heard him call it papyrus. He seemed so gentle. Sometimes, he would cut some stalks down. While he did this he sang softly, reassured his crops. It’s love, Bai realized. It’s beautiful. For the first time in many weeks, Bai felt unafraid.

            This will be my home now, she thought.

            Jendayi shivered. It was cold in the temple. The only cold place in the village, upon which the desert sun generally beat down ten hours a day. The entire building was made of thick stones, and much of the structure was underground, so cold air continuously cycled up from the lower levels.

            There was an important purpose to this. Books and sacred scrolls would quickly deteriorate in the thick heat.

            Brother Hushiren was in a stranger mood then Jendayi had ever seen him. He had always been a quiet, reserved type of man. Now he was authoritative, somehow more present.

            The village was gathered in the temple at Hushiren’s request… well, more like command… to discuss what to do about the monster. The tattered body of Wafalon lay  on a low table, pulled to the center of the room. Jendayi had made her reservations about this known.

            “A body?” She had said. “In a sacred place? In the alter room, no less? Brother Hushiren, a dead body, especially a recently dead one, is impure. An affront to the Gods themselves. I do not approve of this.”

            Hushiren had shrugged. “’Tis the only room in the village practical for holding a meeting. And the village deserves to know what it is dealing with. You must trust me, Jendayi.”

            Jendayi had frowned, but pressed her lips tight and said nothing more.

The locals had reacted to the body with a mixture of fear and anger. Presently, many of them called for blood.

            “Wafalon may have been a drunkard,” said Nassor the farmer. “But he was a good man.” Nassor was shaking his head, a small frown drawing his features down.

            “Yes,” said another, Osahar. “Whatever did this surely is evil.”

            Brother Hushiren was squatted in the corner, the tips of his fingers pressed together and his head bowed. He frowned, but not in distress. He appeared to be in deep thought. As always, his face was a smooth mask of serenity. Now, he stood.

            “It was the creature that lives in Djehuti’s papyrus field,” said Hushiren. “We must find a way to exorcise the beast from our village, as a surgeon cuts out a tumor.”

            Next to Jendayi, Djehuti stirred uncomfortably.

            “We will set traps for it,” said Brother Hushiren. “We will need strong men, competent with a spear. Ottah, the trap-maker, can show us how to set nets for the monster. Once it is entangled, we will slay it.”

            “I do not like this,” Djehuti said to Jendayi afterwards. “Who knows what damage this plan will do to my papyrus?

            Jendayi shook her head. “Brother Hushiren’s mind is set. And so is the mind of the village. I suspect you’ll have little luck in dissuading them.”

             They sat on the floor across from one another. Djehuti was weaving wet strips of papyrus into what would eventually be dried and pressed and become papyrus paper. Jendayi crouched across from him, watching him intently. It made him uncomfortable, and more self conscious then he cared to admit.

            Jendayi’s presence had always been somewhat of a conundrum for him. She was a good customer, to be sure, buying more papyrus then anyone else. Her conversation was pleasant, too. But something about her was troublesome for Djehuti. Perhaps her eyes. Djehuti had always equated eyes with mirrors. They were impenatrable slivers of silver, sealing him out. Until Jendayi, that is. She was different. Her eyes were more like deep wells.

            Then there was the contradiction of her beauty. She was pretty, but not astoundingly so. Her nose was a little bit too wide-set, her chin too proud. But Djehuti found her rather beautiful. It was confusing, jarring, complex.

            And he liked things simple. Like papyrus. If you cared for it and gave it all it needed, it would grow strong and make good paper. Simple. Until now.

            It wasn’t fair. Why would this… thing… choose his field to live in? There were plenty of nicer fields in the village, owned by wealthier farmers who could afford to have their have their work disrupted this way.

Djehuti sighed heavily. It was looking as though he didn’t have a choice.