THE JEALOUSY OF JALICE

Annilasia crept along behind Mygo, both of them searching the forest for any sign of movement. More than once she’d sworn there’d been something just out of eyesight, but no amount of speed ever helped in glimpsing those elusive phantoms. No sound filled the air aside from the timid caress of their boots padding the ground. The noise thundered in Annilasia’s ears like a cretaceon killcry.

Dawn eased across the sky, yet somehow, the light didn’t quite filter into the forest as it should. Rather, it appeared somewhat bent and faded as if drained by an unseen thief. Over the past three days of their four-day journey, the forest had descended into worsening states of decay. The changes had been subtle at first, but taken together, they were quite glaring—a decline in the number of trees, a complete lack of underbrush, a silence that betokened something dreadful lurking out of sight. At times, Annilasia wanted to shout, even simply speak, to break this tension that lingered around them. But the possibility of a nearby flayer always banished this urge.

Annilasia glimpsed something falling from her waist to the ground. She lunged down to snatch the object and tuck it away before Mygo had a chance to turn around. Her heart pounded as she took long strides to close the distance lost in the interruption.

Pain seared across her shoulder, which only drove her to plunge her hand deeper into the pocket. Paper crunched beneath the weight, trapped between the fabric and her balled fingers.

She couldn’t let Mygo see the ripped page—or any of the loose papers she’d polluted her pockets with. If he happened to glimpse them, though, she’d simply cut him down. No eyes but hers could bear witness to the secrets scrawled across them.

Annilasia regretted tearing out pages of Korcsha’s book to carry along—too much risk of losing one—but the idea of leaving an intact book behind at camp with the others only spiked her panic. Someone might have stolen its secrets if she’d left the pages in the book. Or the book might have been damaged. That wouldn’t happen now with the pages safe with her. This way she could read them and reread them however many times she needed.

Inzerious had insisted on this. And she couldn’t ignore the dokojin any longer. She’d quickly learned it didn’t take kindly to disobedience.

Her most prized discovery from the book lay in the opposite pocket of her new trousers—a lone card, stained with smudges of dirt and scarred with a bent upper corner. Under any other circumstances, she’d have tossed it aside. A child could have made it for all she knew. Its construction was simple enough: a blob of ink placed in the center, the card folded in half to create a meaningless, symmetrical design of curves and indistinct shapes.

But Inzerious had gone manic over it. It’d screamed and clawed at her back, swearing it’d tear her to pieces if she didn’t retrieve it from the book and hide it away. Since then, she’d snuck it out on several occasions, mystified by how the ink design changed every time. The cryptic splotches spoke to her too—darkly strange whisperings that aligned cruelly with Inzerious’s own instructions and musings.

Mygo halted abruptly and stared intently ahead. Annilasia stopped and watched him. His left hand shot up, and he flashed his fingers in a quick sequence of signals.

The man’s message was clear, one she could easily interpret. Tree marked, forty feet ahead.

Annilasia observed the trail across the forest. She stiffened. Four distinct slashes cut the bark of one tree farther ahead. She glanced back at Mygo, who’d already begun to form a new message.

Stay alert, the man signaled.

Mygo resumed steady strides forward. Annilasia found the stocky man’s agility remarkable. She’d never have pegged a man of his build as able to stalk through the forest as skillfully as any trained tillishu.

Mygo halted a few feet before the scarred tree and threw his hand up for Annilasia to stop as well. She came up beside him and followed the direction of his pointed finger.

Tracks. Humanoid prints with distinct claw indentations circled the base of the tree and continued west. Although relieved, she wondered why the beast wasn’t directly following the group’s trail.

Mygo approached the tree and ran his fingers inside the deep cuts streaked through the bark. He scrunched his face.

Annilasia snagged his attention with a hand signal to ask what troubled him.

Mygo afforded her a quick response before looking back at the markings. Fresh, he signaled. Close. Why no attack?

Annilasia pondered this now that Mygo shared her own thought. Mygo had distributed a mix of animal secretions between the group as a way to confuse the flayers, much like he had on the night she and Mygo had first met. Perhaps the precaution had worked its purpose.

Mygo stood and trotted farther away while Annilasia followed on his heels. She careened into him when he froze like a statue no more than three strides in. She regained her balance before catching a glimpse of his face. His typical scowl had vanished, now replaced with shock. Annilasia waved at him, but when he remained frozen, she followed his gaze.

Her blood ran cold. They were everywhere—dozens of overlapping tracks, all of them flayers’, heading in the same direction. West.

Mygo twisted on his heels and flashed a quick phrase. Cut us off. He broke off in a mad dash in the direction they’d come, back towards the camp where they’d left the rest of the group.

Annilasia darted after him, his confusing message circling in her head as they rushed past the dead trees. Mygo offered no further explanation to his warning and quick retreat. He didn’t break pace until they arrived at the camp. Both staggered to a stop. Annilasia bent over and steadied her hands on her knees as she gasped for air.

“We have to go,” said Mygo between deep breaths. “They’re trying to cut us off ahead.”

The others stared at him in shock. Annilasia straightened up and stumbled over into his line of sight. When his eyes met hers, she shot her hands through the air.

Why are you speaking? she signaled.

“It’s no use,” he said. “They already know we’re here.”

“Are you talking about the flayers?” Elothel asked, faer voice tipping towards panic.

“Why haven’t they attacked, then?” Jalice asked incredulously.

“I don’t know,” said Mygo. “They’re acting . . . unusual. If even one of them had caught our scent, it’d have been on top of us with no hesitation.” He shook his head, moving towards his belongings. “But instead they’re working to try and cut us off. Like they’re suddenly smart pack animals.” He started frantically gathering items and slinging them into a bag.

When he realized no one else was doing the same, he scowled at them. “We have to go, or they’re going to cut us off!”

His words shook the others into action. Annilasia stood frozen for a moment, trying to grapple with Mygo’s deductions about the creature’s drastic behavior change. Finally, she sprang over to Mygo, already swiftly disassembling his tent.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Are they smart enough to suppress their kill instincts in order to stop us? They’re beasts.”

Mygo stopped what he was doing and turned to her. “You saw the markings. You saw the tracks. You got a better explanation about why they got that close and didn’t hunt us down? Or why the tracks cut across our path ahead? They’re circling whatever it is that lies at our destination.”

Annilasia grunted and shoved her hand into her pocket to grasp the card. It was still there. Her fingers flipped the card’s bent corner back and forth. “Have you ever seen such behavior before in all your time studying them?”

Mygo opened his mouth but was cut off by a guttural howl that reverberated through the trees. Annilasia and the others turned towards the sound and froze like statues as its echo dissipated.

“Sahruum’s stars,” Elothel breathed.

“It’s a race now,” said Mygo. “I don’t think we’re going to win.”