A New Night

Making Prison Pals

I gasped as I fell unexpectedly into the dark pit—with smooth black stones serving as the walls—and fell into the muddy ground below. Fortunately, the mud was only about an inch deep, and I realized how much worse it could have been had it been raining since I entered the jungle. When I frantically looked up at the entrance where I’d been dropped from, the tails quickly flew out the entrance—along with the weight of their presence.

Even though I was now scared at being imprisoned in a pit—with what looked like claw scratches on the stone and a few clumps of variously colored fur on top of the mud—it was still a relief to no longer be surrounded by shades carrying me to an unknown fate. My fate was known now … even if it wasn’t particularly pleasant. I no longer felt their seemingly-psychic influence. I felt like the previous limits to my vision were gone, along with the sense that someone was poking around in my head. However, I was stuck down here, and the creatures would likely return.

Too tired to deal with inevitability, I tried to get my brain working. I looked down and said, “Are you alright, Romalla?”

“Yes,” Romalla replied, though her voice was gargled and very dry-sounding. “There was a lot of movement. Did you smite the demons?”

“No,” I said with a heavy sigh. I took one last look at the top of the hole to make sure there were no tails and then finally allowed the chassis in my torso to open. “We were captured.”

Romalla hopped out quickly. She looked wary at first, glancing all around. When she seemed satisfied that there was no imminent danger, she slouched tiredly. Slowly, she stretched her wings and then her legs. Finally, Romalla looked up at the top of the hole—about ten feet above my height. A fanged smile appeared on her lips, and she pointed up with a hooked claw. “Those fools. I could easily fly through there.”

“Yeah, and then you could bring me a ladder,” I said. My tone wasn’t exactly sarcastic, just pessimistic and dull. “I’d probably need a crane. And I don’t think those mind-controlling creatures will help you get one, even if you asked nicely.”

“I would never ‘ask nicely’ to demons,” Romalla said with a frown. “Still, I think you are right. Stupid as they seem, they may have enough base intelligence to try and wait for me to fly through the top. Perhaps they think they can snatch me that way.”

“Good point,” I said and scratched where my chin should have been … which was not very satisfying without an actual chin.

The pit walls were made of four enormous slabs of dark stone—leaving no grooves I could grasp to climb. I extended my hands toward the wall of the hole and formed my fingers into claws. I noted with a bit of sadness the ripped state of my rubberized fingertips from how the creatures had manipulated my body earlier. Not that I suddenly cared about my mechanical form, but they had been one of the few parts of me that mimicked the body I should have had. I sighed heavily and forced myself to focus on something else when I sensed a vague emotional stinging sensation in my glass face.

I huffed impatiently at myself and then pulled away the shredded remnants of rubber—exposing only permanent metal fingertips with claws now extracted. I tried to press them into the wall to climb out. However, my claws could not penetrate the dense stones like they could concrete.

I turned to say something to Romalla when I saw a black cord snaking into the pit.

I dashed to grab to tail! Surprisingly, my hand managed to grab hold before it could escape. I had … succeeded. But what had I succeeded in doing? I didn’t have a plan, but I knew I wouldn’t get another opportunity like this. So, I pulled gently and firmly to not deliberately rip the tail off the creature it belonged to.

A feline howl echoed off the stone walls as a small, black shadow fell from above. The creature, which was a third of my size, had hardly landed when it began to claw ferociously at me.

I took special care to protect my face from the onslaught of four claws slashing at my arms, chest, and legs—scuffing the metal more than I thought possible.

Romalla let out a threatening hiss of her own—baring her teeth and getting close. I felt fairly confident that she could do some damage if I didn’t get the situation under control quickly!

After another minute or so of struggling, I managed to grab hold of what felt like the scruff on its neck with my right hand and then lift it off its feet.

The creature fought and tried to strike me with its elbows and feet for several moments—until its movement became sluggish, and it began to pant heavily. I then carried it to the middle of the hole, where a little bit of morning light shone, so I could finally see it.

The cat seemed much smaller than the shapes I had seen glances of in the stone city. I supposed that meant that he was young. His body structure was somewhat blocky and muscular, again much like a jaguar. But there were also differences. His ears were considerably more prominent than an average cat’s, reaching down to its chin, almost like a cobra’s hood. His paws had short but opposable thumbs, complete with black claws on each finger and toe—which he gradually retracted. He had a pattern of even darker black circles on his black fur.

The cat let out another horrible screech. “Let me go now, or the Queen will kill you!” he hissed. I noticed that he did not speak with his mouth except to punctuate his words with hisses and growls. Instead, he flicked his tail, ears, and eyes. This made me feel a bit dizzy at first, and I could feel his words being placed in my mind.

I looked up to see if any other tails were reaching down. Surely, they had heard his loud screech for miles. However, nothing was coming down into the pit. I then noticed the creature’s shivering … and his darting eyes. He looked terrified. I began to doubt that any sort of rescue would come.

Seeing the terrified … child … made me feel a weight where my stomach should have been. I felt a little sickened at myself as I realized that he was almost definitely in fear for his life. So, gently, I asked, “Why is nobody trying to help you?”

“You are stupid! The Queen and the other Hunters will kill both of you for daring to lay a hand on me. Let me go! Let me go, now!” He struggled feebly and with much less energy than before. This was when I noticed that he looked very thin compared to large cats and to the picture of his kind I had seen etched in stone. His features were abnormally sharp for his square frame. And his ribs poked out noticeably, even through his thick fur and muscles.

Malnourishment. And from somewhere in my lost memories, I recognized his telltale behavior of neglect. It was no different than a human child threatening that their alcoholic father who beat them was the strongest in the world. He was definitely bluffing—nobody was coming for him.

Again, I felt a wave of emotions. Though terrified of the larger ones of his kind, I still wished he was right about his parents being willing to fight me to rescue him.

I sighed heavily and asked, “What’s your name?”

“I am Scraa of the Hunters,” the small creature said defiantly. “And I will destroy you!”

It occurred to me that my small hope of escaping by capturing one of the … Hunters … was dashed to pieces. However, this seemed like the lesser of the two tragedies compared to the state of this Hunter child named Scraa.

“Well, I would like to let you go…” I began to say.

“Even though the demon wishes to eat me!” Romalla asked incredulously.

“Yeah, that is the problem,” I said, slumping my shoulders. Letting a starving giant cat free with Romalla around was definitely not the best idea. So, I looked at Scraa and said, “Don’t try to eat my friend again, or I’ll have to pull off your tail.”

Scraa peered at me carefully, and I could feel a much more muted version of his kind’s psychic power pressing into my thoughts. This did seem to be an actual ability that the Hunters had … and at varying levels. The first Hunter I had spoken to had been extremely powerful, and the others who had captured me had been a bit less so. This child seemed to be the weakest yet … which made sense if the skill had to be learned. I wondered if I could use some mental trick to keep the Hunters out of my head.

Finally, with assurance, Scraa said, “You wouldn’t pull off my tail.”

“Well ... maybe not,” I said, a bit annoyed that I was being called out for my lack of determination by this rambunctious kitten. I released him but kept a hold on his tail. “But I would pull you back down if you grabbed her.”

Scraa took several steps away from me, keeping his back turned, and then gave a furious hiss over his shoulder. Was he throwing a temper tantrum? I was pretty sure I’d seen housecats do the same thing in some past life. Finally, he said, “I am hungry,” and looked resentfully at Romalla.

Romalla bared her teeth with clear disdain.

Scraa reluctantly added, “But … she does not seem like she would taste as good as the other fruit bats I’ve seen.”

“That’s because she’s feisty and full of sharp bits,” I said. Then I thought about it and added, “And I don’t think People of the Night would be particularly nutritious. Lots of boney bits … plus they eat a lot of bugs.”

Scraa scrunched up his face and finally turned to glare at me. “You talk a lot.”

“One of my many charming qualities,” I replied tiredly and sat down against a wall next to Romalla—tail still in hand. My thoughts turned again to how hungry he must have been. Unfortunately, I had no access to food for him. The only thing I could think of was my makeshift fishing pole from earlier. Which … brought a certain loathsome cliché about teaching someone to fish to the forefront of my mind.

I asked, “Do you like fish?”

Scraa turned to look at me. Before his powers allowed him to steal the innermost thoughts from my brain, I began to play the most annoying tune I possibly could. Some ditty from my subconscious memories, without any words.

Scraa looked confused at first and then doubly annoyed because of the song. But he must have decided that I was telling the truth because he said, “Yes … but you do not have fish.”

I shrugged nonchalantly, “I could show you how to get fish really easily. If … in exchange … you promise not to try to eat Romalla.”

Scraa thought about this for a moment, peering at me with his disdainful glare. Then, finally, he said, “How does one promise?”

I tried to think of the best way to explain a promise in a way he could understand. The Hunter I had spoken to in the jungle talked a lot about power. Perhaps that was the foundational value of their people.

“Well, I guess you touch hands... er, claws. Then you, as a powerful predator, affirm that you will honor your agreement. Because you’re not so ... prey-like … that you would need to back out of it.”

Scraa thought about this for a moment and then walked to me. His shoulder twitched, making me think that he had almost lifted his hand to put it in mine. But then he stopped and said, “I am not yet a powerful predator.”

I resisted laughing at the cleverness of his implication. It seemed that he thought the whole promise thing could not apply to him. Or, on a more devious level, that he could back out of the promise if it was not technically perfect. A lawyer in the making.

I thought about this momentarily and said, “You gain power by doing a powerful thing.”

Scraa flared a nostril and studied me dubiously.

I thought quickly for an example of someone strong. Before anyone else, Romalla was the first person to come to mind. With a tiny bit of nervousness that I couldn’t explain, I indicated at her with a head movement and said, “Like Romalla. She, uhm, is doing a really powerful thing by going to the dangerous Sky City. So she can help her people and become a more powerful priest, as she’s promised. Keeping a promise makes one stronger, too.” The words came out surprisingly sincere and even a little emotional. I blushed for a moment—causing a brief pink glow to illuminate the pit a bit more.

Romalla seemed a little surprised too. She subtly reached down to scratch between her toes with a wrinkled expression. Then she gave a slight nod and looked back at me, standing a little taller than before—sort of like Krogallo during his storytelling.

“Besides,” I continued. “You don’t really want to eat Romalla anyways. Not more than you want to eat a fish ... or lots of fish.”

A little bit of salivation dripped from Scraa’s mouth to the ground. He lifted his paw and then touched my metal hand. Then he said, “I will not eat your bat, for I am a strong predator that does not require to back out on his promise.” How he said it, with attempted formality and shifty-eyed awkwardness, made me believe him.

Romalla gave a small snort. “You’re lucky that Bassello, God of the Night People, did not smite you like he did the Golem.”

Scraa hissed at her.

“Alright, take it easy,” I said, shaking my head at them both. I released Scraa’s tail and said, “Now, to teach you, I need some items. Go and get me some worms and strong, thin vines. Preferably one with a crooked thorn in it.”

Scraa gave me a distrustful side look for a moment … but eventually nodded. He pressed his tail firmly to the ground and then leaped—gaining much more height than I thought possible for something his size. He bounced up the wall like a kung-fu master in a wire-fighting film. The weightlessness he achieved with his tail was about as surreal as everything else that the Hunters managed.

Once he was gone, Romalla huffed and asked, “Why are you helping that demon?”

“I thought the giant yellow serpents were demons,” I said glibly, looking at the light scratches that Scraa had left on my armor. Unlike my rubber fingertips, I thought the scratches added a little character. I hoped that all my scuffing and damage would at least make me feel like I wasn’t just a robot duplicate among many once we reached the Sky City.

Romalla was not so easily deterred from her disgust. “I tried to understand the harmless, stupid fruit bat. But you are now helping demons that are as bad as the Golems. You are supposed to be the Sleeping God of the Night People.”

“But … Scraa isn’t that bad,” I replied, feeling a little like I had betrayed her.

“He tried to eat me,” Romalla said, her eyes half-closed in a glare.

“Well … he was starving,” I said, knowing immediately after that this would not sound like a great justification to her.

Romalla’s face remained frozen in a hardened stare. She then let out a frustrated sigh. “So ... why do you want demons to not be hungry but are okay with almost killing a Golem?”

“Uh …” I said, feeling cornered and unsure how to reply. “I … don’t think the Hunters are like the Golems. The Golems are ancient beings who hurt the Night People even though they didn’t need to. The Hunters kind of need to be that way. There isn’t as much food for them here.”

Romalla scratched her toes, at least seeming to think about this.

“And Scraa, he isn’t a demon at all. He seems more like a child … in the body of a starving, psychic killer … who happens to have knives for fingers.”

“Then he is a demon to be,” Romalla said. “Why not just kill him before he becomes a killer and destroys his spirit?”

“Because that wouldn’t work,” I replied with a sigh, feeling frustrated with myself for not being able to explain this issue that felt more simple than it was turning out to be. “Remember how we talked about fruit bats not adapting here and how that made them into something very different from the People of the Night?”

Romalla nodded, shifting her eyes to the right and left to avoid eye contact. It was clearly still a sore issue for her.

I softened my tone, trying to get her to see what I meant. “Well, the same goes for any living thing. Creatures adapt to the world around them. If you put them in a terrible jungle where snakes try to eat them, they must be more terrible to survive. And if you try to kill them, the ones that survive will just get stronger and more terrible still.”

Romalla was silent for a moment. She scratched her toes a bit more and then asked, “Then … you think that if life were nicer, they could be nicer. Even though they are demons.” She still looked unhappy about this but seemed to understand.

I nodded, thinking that this was probably true.

“Until the fiercer demons killed the nicer ones,” Romalla replied, her tone grim.

“Uh...” I said and lifted my index finger. For some reason, her words stirred something old inside me—a feeling from the time before. My body felt it as well, feeling hot and wired with energy. I shook my head and tried to force these feeling out. “I’m sorry, I just … don’t know.”

I leaned back against a wall. It took a while sitting there for me to calm down, and then I was stuck in silence for several more awkward moments even after.

After a few minutes, Romalla hopped over to me and said, “Please forgive my impatience. I know you will have the answers once you return to the Realm of the Gods.”

I gave a hopeful nod … that at least somebody could explain things better than I could.

“Also,” Romalla said. She was staring at one spot on the ground and did not seem able to look away from it. Finally, in a formal tone, she said, “Thank you for what you said … about me doing a powerful thing.”

“Oh,” I replied and let out the slightest pink glow. “I … uhm … really meant it. You’re, uh, the strongest person I know.”

I thought I saw Romalla’s mouth open in the tiniest smile possible. She nodded and sat on all fours beside me.

For a few minutes, we just sat there in silence—with an entirely different kind of tension than what had been there before. It was a nicer kind of nervousness, even if I didn’t know what it was.

Finally, it was Romalla who broke the silence. “Bassello...” she said and pointed down at my foot.

I looked down at my feet and saw that I was scratching between my toes. Huh … weird.

-O-

Even though Romalla had been in the storage compartment for a while, she was visibly tired by the time noon came about. She closed her eyes frequently and gave several yawns every few minutes. While I didn’t want to bring up the thought that had occurred to me about sleep, I felt like I had no other choice.

“Do you think … it would be safest to sleep inside?” I asked and pointed at my chassis.

Romalla wrinkled her forehead but then gave a slow nod. “That would be safer against the demons and their tails.”

I willed my chassis open, and she climbed inside. Once it was shut, Romalla did not seem to move. I couldn’t imagine how tired she was … and hungry … and sick of the terrible chassis that carried so many painful memories. I tried not to move as I sat alone in the pit that was brightly lit for the first time. I let my mind wander. First, I thought about my conversation with Scraa and then with Romalla. I noted how much I wished I could be eloquent in the way I spoke instead of always being nervous.

Then I thought about the pictures I had seen … the one of a human and the Hunter with a short tail. I didn’t know what to think about it, only that it had stuck in my mind. So, I didn’t notice when Scraa crept overhead and silently fell in front of me—making me jump.

He looked at me and said, “I brought what you said.” He dropped the vines and the worms he had dug up. I noticed that he had impaled his paw lightly on one of the thorns, which had gone through the thick-skinned pad.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“I am hungry,” Scraa replied, looking confused by my question.

I nodded, knowing that he would never let me bandage his paw. So, instead, I took the vine. With it in hand, I imagined climbing out … and emotionally convinced myself that I would climb out of the pit. My claws extended, meaning I had successfully tricked my body. With my claws out, I was able to strip the plant of most of its thorns—except for a few on the thin end, which would be cast into the water.

Once finished, I took a worm, impaled it unhappily on the most bent thorn, and then handed it to him.

Scraa studied the makeshift fishing line for a moment and then began to swish the contraption from one side of the hole to the other.

“Just put the hook and the worm in the water,” I said, pantomiming an imaginary fishing pole in my hands. Then I picked up the remaining worms and sealed them in my hand. “When you feel a fish bite the worm, pull so the hook embeds itself in the fish’s mouth. It may take you a few hours to get it the first time.”

“What were the other worms for, then?” Scraa asked, pointing to the other ones he had brought.

“Those are for Romalla to eat,” I replied, feeling quite clever.

“She does not feed herself?” Scraa asked, scrunching his face in absolute disgust. The way he asked it was very telling. I wondered if Hunter parents were not expected to feed their children.

“Most of the time she… has been,” I answered, not wanting to let her lose respect in the Hunter’s eyes if this was a standard for how his kind perceived strength. “But she’s kind of stuck if she doesn’t want to fly out and become lunch for one of the other Hunters. I don’t think they are aware of how bad she would probably taste.”

Scraa turned his head slightly and studied me with one eye. Then, he looked upward—clearly about to leave.

“Uh, can I ask you something,” I said, lifting a hand awkwardly.

Scraa turned and eyed me distrustfully.

For a reason I couldn’t explain, I suddenly felt embarrassed to ask the question that had followed me into the pit. “I … just wanted to know about the picture. The one on the rock just outside the hole, with a Hunter with a short tail and another … person with them.”

Scraa stared silently for a moment, no doubt trying to decide if telling me something would benefit him somehow. Finally, he said, “The Mother Hunters.” He then leaped to the top of the hole again and vanished.

The Mother Hunters … like foundational figures for their people? Or were they deities or legends of some kind? I wondered if Scraa even knew the answers to these questions. Maybe none of the Hunters did. Perhaps it had been lost with whatever civilization had built the early stonework in the city. I sighed discontentedly.

I let my mind wander again … slowly and at everything that had happened thus far. Hours passed, and I found myself again wishing I could sleep.

… sleep …

I thought about the word and found that my mind seemed stuck on it. All other thoughts felt … sluggish. My energy felt like it was being drawn from my body at the speed of molasses. This went on for … an amount of time that I wasn’t sure of.

When I finally noticed a black tail dancing in front of me, it was too late to feel surprised. I thought absently that this one was much larger than Scraa’s. Sleep overcame me.

I don’t know how long I remained like that. All I do know is that I awoke to my name being shouted.

Immediately, I noticed an airy hollow in my torso. It was open! All my tiredness was gone in an instant! My inner alarms sounded, and my blades unsheathed immediately. I looked around to see if she had just popped out to rest, but I was alone!

“Romalla!” I screamed and knelt to the ground, ready to jump and grab onto anything that might let me escape.

Before I could, a soft but powerful blow from behind knocked me onto my knees. Then I heard the familiar click of a gun.