Kin of Jörmungandr

I slowly wrap my tail beneath Scia’s wings and pull her off my scales. She squeaks in surprise, but I don’t stop. I place her in the mist, protected from the heat. The moment I let go, she blinks back to my back, only to grip me harder.

I’m not about to abandon you. I simply need to search the magma without placing you in danger.

Despite my intentions, I have no way to share my thoughts. Scia stares up at me with panic as I move to wrap her in my tail again. She even pretends to limp on her formerly broken limb, but it’s a pointless effort. Her wing has recovered. She can fly again, and doesn’t even need her ability to form spatial bends to stay away from the magma, but she thinks I don’t know.

Her whining moans ring in my ears as she stares up at me with a look of betrayal.

Why must she look at me like that? This will be a brief separation; less than a single sleep. I’ll be back soon enough when I’ve either found a safe path forward, or have given up on this border. This is better for her; it’s not like she can swim through molten rock like I can.

But again, as I let go, she blinks to my back, crying a wailing screech as she buries herself into my scales.

I sigh a despairing hiss. If I hadn’t tried so hard to abandon her until she saved me, would she still distrust me this much? Obviously, I can’t turn around my efforts and pretend like they never occurred… even if that would make this so much easier.

Strange how I can never seem to be happy with how Scia sees me. First, she trusted me too much. I found that unnatural and foolish. Now, she doesn’t trust me, and that somehow stings. Like the ache of eating something poisonous.

Do I deserve it?

I regret trying to scare her off now, but even looking back, there was nothing wrong with what I did. In fact, I still think Scia is the one in the wrong, forcing herself into my company like she did. But… I can’t hate her for it.

Because, despite the troubles, I have enjoyed her presence.

Well, if she’s so determined to stick by my side, she better be prepared to face some harsh environments. Just because she refuses to stay behind for a while doesn’t mean I’ll halt my search of this Magma Ocean.

I slither through the air, removing us from the thermal protection of the mist, only to throw us into a nearby hole. Three holes later, we arrive within another safe swathe of dispersing water to cool Scia down.

This way of searching the Magma will be slow — incredibly so — but it’s better than abandoning the search entirely. Without being able to dive into the magma, I doubt any possibility of finding a path, but it’ll have to do.

Scia’s cries stop quickly once I give up on trying to dislodge her from my back. Unfortunately, my attempts have brought up memories for her. She now does her best to stay awake for as long as I’m still moving. Which isn’t good. I tend to push through my need for rest; something she isn’t that great at.

The few times I do find a spatial loop to sleep in, she takes advantage and rests with me, but it’s clearly not enough for her.

Eventually, it gets too much. As I slither around an incredibly pressurised waterfall exploding from a rift to the Crippling Depths, Scia finally collapses on my back. She may have passed out from exhaustion, but as always, the claws of her feet continue to cling tight, so there’s no worry of her falling.

I watch with interest as the massive waterfall continues to blast the surface of magma. The liquid rock churns from the contact, while the water bursts into steam that fills the air. An island of black glass forms in a ring around the impact site, with the central point continually shattering from the high speed of water.

In a constant cycle of intense forces, the glass island fractures and continually reforms wider than before with the new cooled magma that is added to its mass.

I wonder if the black rock will remain when the rift finally collapses under the strain, or if it will melt as soon as the water is gone. I’m sure this happens rather often, so I’m more inclined to say it melts again.

While Scia finally gets the rest she needs, no longer needing to constantly lick her wings or spread them wide to cool off, I continue the search. It’s not going well. Plenty of times, I’ve found holes and rifts that appear to lead somewhere promising, but they are almost always in an area that may very well kill Scia instantly. Some, I’m not even sure of my own safety.

So, I continue on. Hopping between pockets of mist and waterfalls.

After some time, Scia still hasn’t woken. She’s remained unconscious far longer than necessary to rest, even considering her recent lack of sleep. A gnawing ache in my stomach grows with each moment she remains unmoving.

Eventually, the churning in my chest grows too strong. I take her through a hole to a cavern with a lake and turn to scrutinize her.

She breathes and pants in her sleep, yet she barely tosses.

The first thing I do is submerge her in the water. Despite being dunked beneath the surface and ripped out in a moment, she doesn’t wake. Why is she not? She couldn’t be so tired to need to sleep double her typical resting time and still be so deep in slumber she can’t wake.

What is the problem? It’s clear there is a problem, but what could it be? I’ve already cooled her down, so it shouldn’t be that, right? Maybe there’s something else?

No matter how many times I jostle her body, she refuses to wake, and no clues make themselves known. If not for her breathing and the blood pumping through her veins, I’d think she was dead. It isn’t natural to be this unresponsive. Even for Scia — who’s proven that what is natural isn’t applicable to all creatures — this isn’t right.

What could it be? Besides the heat of magma, what could have caused her issues?

Wait… when was the last time she ate? I can go a long time without food, but I know most other creatures cannot go even a quarter the length I do without a full meal.

She’s not touched anything since we began searching the Magma Ocean, but I also don’t remember her leaving my side for even a moment since our encounter with the Ōmukade. Definitely not enough time to find a feast for herself.

Has she been so worried about sticking to me she forwent eating entirely? I know she’s always been foolish, but even for her, that is too much.

But I have no other ideas.

I cradle the tiny bat with the narrow tip of my tail as I whip off the ground again, only to pause. What does she eat? Not meat. She didn’t touch the bugs of the caverns beyond the Labyrinthine Passages. So I assume plants of some kind, but as I’ve never eaten them, how can I know what is safe and what isn’t?

Never have I paid enough attention to her to learn what she eats. Scia is susceptible to many things I wouldn’t consider dangerous at all. The generations of bilbies I watched over were at least able to look after themselves. They were self-sufficient. I never interfered. Now that Scia is incapacitated, she is reliant on me to help her… but I have no idea how.

It makes me realise that despite my age, despite the many thousand hunts I’ve lived through, I know nothing outside of that which directly affects myself. Such a long life, and nothing of my past can help in this moment.

What am I doing? Regrets won’t help Scia.

My head twists, and the moment I find an environment of flourishing plant-life, I flick forward. The first thing I notice once I’m through the hole is the massive waterfall in the middle of the chamber. It crashes down into a fissure through the ground that splits three ways. Heat of lava billows up the deep fissures that spread to the walls of, what would be, a semi-spherical cavern, if you ignored the warped space.

The place is incredibly humid, likely from the water flowing down into a magma pool below the ground. Not a single surface isn’t overflowing with plants. Tall trees both rise from the ground and hang from the ceiling. Those that grow through permanent bends in space benefit by the counteracting gravity to prevent themselves being torn from the roots as they hang.

Between the trees and along the walls, root-like grass grows. Fruits everywhere and burrows plentiful. The humidity gifted by water and heat provide no better place for life to flourish. Bugs and critters hide in their own little corners. I even see a few sizeable predators prowling through the undergrowth.

Whatever Scia can eat, I should find it here.

It would be so much easier if she were awake to choose for herself, but we wouldn’t be in this problem if she could wake that easily.

My best guess would be the small berries growing in the bushes along the walls; they are just the right size to fit in her mouth. But I can’t be sure they aren’t poisonous to her or something. How can I check their safety?

My eyes land on one of the lesser creatures running along the branch of a suspended tree. That should do.

I snap forward, snatching up the squirrel in my mouth. I am careful not to sink any of my teeth into the small critter; the last thing I want to do is kill it before it’s fulfilled its purpose.

The rodent squeals, but only for a moment. As soon as it feels the presence I layer down on it, any thought of resistance flees its mind; too shocked and terrified to do anything more than freeze.

With subject in jaw, I swim toward the berry bush, ignoring the thousands of other creatures either fleeing or stiffening in terror. I saddle Scia further up in a loop of my tail, as I use the tip to guide a berry to the squirrel’s mouth. The lesser creature, still paralysed, doesn’t react.

Hissing in annoyance, my teeth sink past the skin and the rodent wakes from its petrified state. Whether it opens its mouth to shriek or do as I want, I don’t care. The moment it is open, the berry is shoved down its throat.

It nearly chokes on the berry, but eventually, it swallows before scratching and squealing at the corner of my lips, desperate to escape. An ever so slight dose of my presence silences it again.

I watch the squirrel for the next little while, just waiting for it to start puking or to curl over and die. When nothing happens — besides Scia’s motionless form returning to my sight over and over — I spit out the rodent. It lays there for a few moments before it realises I’m no longer biting it and scampers away.

If I had more time, I would test with more than just the one creature, and I would wait longer in case it’s slower acting, but I don’t. The longer I wait, the more my chest writhes at the lack of movement from Scia. So, despite the risk, I lay Scia on my back, and crush a berry over her lips.

This better wake her up; I’ve never put so much effort into someone else.