Kin of Jörmungandr

Pulped berry juice drips from the end of my tail over Scia’s slightly ajar mouth. The fruits are tiny, even to my smallest size, but to the miniature bat it is a feast. Well, it would be if half of it didn’t dribble down the sides of her muzzle.

When she doesn’t immediately wake, doubts enter my mind. Was I wrong? Is it not because she’s been starving, but something else? The consistent heat of the Magma Ocean might have left permanent damage I cannot visibly observe. Damage that a bit of water cooling couldn’t heal. How can I fix that?

I move to pull my tail away, but the little pink tongue darting through Scia’s lips stops me. She remains blissfully asleep as she licks at the berry juice. After a moment, it’s all gone. She smacks her lips, looking for more. I bring my tail tip down, still coated in chunks of berry flesh. Scia latches on immediately, her teeth biting, but unable to scratch my scales.

She fumbles for the pieces of berry while licking up the juice. Each moment, becoming more animated. Eventually, all remnants of the fruit are gone, cleaned off my scales, and Scia’s eyelids snap open.

She stares up at me. I stare back. Her surroundings finally register as she becomes more aware, but she remains still. Scia tilts her head, then glances at another fruit besides us. While obviously hungry, she makes no motion for it.

I take my saliva drenched tail tip and curl it around the bundle of berries, snap it from the bush and bring it to Scia.

Scia stares at the offered bundle dumbly, eyes flickering between it and me for a few moments before bellowing a chirp with a radiant smile. Quicker than I can react, she snatches the bundle in her mouth and blinks upon my snout, wings spread as wide around my scales as they can go.

I watch her, confused but not unhappy that she’s up and moving around. A berry already fills her mouth, juices flowing readily down her maw and over my scales, but she seems far more focused on clinging to me.

Sluggishly, she chews, slumping before my eyes. The cluster of berries, despite being half as large as Scia, rapidly disappears. She seems satisfied. Thankfully, my choice wasn’t wrong.

When she finishes her meal — uneaten fruit falling to the underbrush below — Scia doesn’t move from her spot. Her breaths calm and she slumps. If not for her eyes watching mine, I’d think she fell asleep again.

Even at my absolute smallest size, her body still fits snugly in the space between my eyes and snout. Plenty of other creatures flit through the surrounding trees, but besides bugs, none are as tiny as her. Most are larger than myself. It only entrenches the thought of Scia’s weakness in my mind.

I’ve known she lacked strength since I found her caught in the pincers of a centipede. Known she was essentially the weakest of the weak. Despite that, I’ve not considered the danger she has constantly been in. Not until now.

The slightest change in environment was enough to make her unresponsive. Whether because of hunger or heat, her life was put at risk simply passing through spaces I never considered even slightly threatening.

I’ve always known most creatures are weak, but I’ve never had to think about what that means beyond the competition of predator and prey; beast and rival. All I’ve ever cared about is what directly relates to myself. As far back as my memories go, I’ve never faced hardship because of environment. Not until recently. The only thing of import to me… has been me.

But that is no longer the case.

Scia has changed things. She has changed me. This recent scramble in her unconsciousness reveals her weakness. A weakness I thought I understood, but clearly didn’t. No, now I realise; the simplest of mistakes could leave Scia’s life threatened… and not only from the threat of other creatures.

I’ve already resolved myself to keep her by my side, but to do so, I need to be far more careful with my actions. She does not share my resilience, so I cannot continue with my carelessness.

This… was my mistake. Scia’s condition is fault of mine. Thankfully, all is right now, but I must prevent any repeat in the future.

While that’s easy to say, there could be any number of things I’ve taken for granted that are deathly threats to the little one. Best thing I can do is remain observant. If Scia shows pain or discomfort, I cannot ignore it as I did over the Magma Ocean.

With all motivation to continue my search sapped, I slither along the branches of a soft-barked tree. Scia clings to my head, letting out frequent happy chirps as I allow myself to hang from the solid support. Usually, I prefer my loops in space to rest, but right now, I need to be closer to the world of these lesser creatures.

I don’t sleep, and neither does Scia. She watches me, and I watch the world, attempting to view threats from the perspective of the bottom tier.

Occasionally, some critters or unimpressive predators approach, but each are scared off with the slightest application of my presence. As small as I am, any being that feels it will know I’m too much for them.

Much as I try to place myself in the perspective of a creature as small as my partner, I can never seem to think of any new threats. Everything around just appears like little more than a fleeting nuisance. I watch the steam rising from a crevice below and wondering whether it is a threat to any form of life, and how. My attention doesn’t last long, soon turning to the waterfall crashing down through the centre of the cavern.

Eventually, I find myself glaring at the greenery before my eyes, daring it to reveal its secretive threats.

It is only when I scare off another rodent with a barely cognised hiss that I finally realise my folly.

No revelation will make itself known to me while I’m actively treating these creatures like pests. To discover the inconsequential dangers of the world, I must first treat everything as a danger… which is impossible. My eyes follow the squirrel as it races down the tree, running through three bends the trunk grows through. No matter how hard I try, it is simply impossible to consider the rodents so much as a challenge, much less a threat.

But… it’s not true that I have never felt fearful or threatened. Just because I can’t see the local inhabitants as anything concerning, doesn’t mean I can’t imagine myself in a similar position.

The Titan. If I was constantly surrounded by beings of equal standing as the Titan, then how would I react? No… how could I even live? The thought is unsettling, but doesn’t help with my initial intent at all. It doesn’t allow me to see my surroundings for threats to Scia, it only makes me imagine something horrible.

The world collapsing under the all-engulfing battle of incomprehensible beings.

A squeak distracts me from my thoughts. Scia holds her head high, ears swivelling at a sound I cannot hear. I watch curiously as she clambers upright, head searching, but unable to pinpoint a direction.

We both hear it at the same time; a shattered shriek. The sound is high pitched, but not loud. Strangely, it registers almost as if hitting my ears in reverse. Wherever this screech came from, it is entrenched within an area of high-density spatial bends.

Scia’s head snaps to the right, ears rigid. While I may not be able to discern direction of sound, she has no such qualms. She jumps to her feet, turns to me with wide eyes and gapes. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she collects herself and chirps at me, turning to point her head to our right.

Scia’s claws cling to my scales while she flaps her wings, as if her efforts have any chance to drag me along. Doubtlessly, she could go follow the noise herself, but she wants me with her.

Hissing out my reluctant agreement to her darting gestures, I uncoil from the branch and swim through the air, following Scia’s directions. The bat is insistent. When my movements are too sluggish for her, she yips at me to move faster. Only Scia can act like she’s in control of me without my pride retching. How strange.

Soon, we are outside the cavern where water meets the lava fissures. Steam billows out through these tunnels, so the plants are still thick and lush, but the more bends we pass, the less prevalent it becomes.

A flicker catches my eye. I focus, but see nothing. Again, the flicker emerges a short distance from the first. Suspicious of what avoids my gaze, I turn off Scia’s directions. She squeaks in surprise, and immediately tries to angle me back on track, but her ears flicker toward what caught my eye and settles down. I guess she gives permission.

It appears again, and I realise I’m watching another sciacylch. Like Scia, it blinks through space by creating bends around its body. It flickers in and out of sight rapidly, moving faster than I’ve ever seen Scia. The combination of flight and its own distortions create impressive synergy.

I stare down at Scia. She really should take up flying again. It’s not like she’s injured any longer, so why does she still prefer to cling to me?

Why is this other sciacylch running so rapidly? It’s almost like it’s being chased.

Just as that thought filters through my mind, an owl glides through a bend with speed. Not travelling through the bend, no, the bird with feathers that wisp outward like mist passes a spatial distortion as if it were never there. It passes another, and I watch as its form travels a distance before disintegrating entirely. A fleeting existence.

An irritated hiss echoes from my throat.

An Ascalaphus.

The damn owls were frustrating. Faster than air, and more difficult to follow than an echo. One moment, they would seem as solid as any creature. The next, they distorted like the space around us.

Over my hunts, I’ve grown more intelligent; incorporating plans to catch those faster than myself. But these Ascalaphus remain impossible to catch. Worst of all; they know just how untouchable they are.

The owl soars out from another bend — this time actually being carried through the distortion — far closer to the fleeing sciacylch than before. Despite the tiny bat’s immense number of bends, the Ascalaphus’ speed is too great. Their distance closes rapidly.

I don’t even need to lower my gaze to feel Scia’s pleading. She wants me to help. Fortunately for her, I need little convincing to strike at the arrogant owls.

Without wings or a sciacylch’s ability to form bends, I am slower. I rely entirely on natural formations, but there is no use lamenting; I must simply make my approach smarter.

I slowly slither through the air, analysing the choices the sciacylch makes in its escape. It passes through a natural hole and considering the bat can only create bends that carry it a limited distance, I know it is trying to follow one of three paths. All others are simply too inefficient to have chosen the bend it did. When it creates another distortion around itself and appears before a bend in the opposite direction of where it looked like it was going, I figure out its target.

I spin in midair. It’s slightly annoying, but it’s simply quicker to go back the way I came.

The Ascalaphus gets fooled by the sciacylch’s backtracking and I watch as its body slowly collapses into ripples of mist and air. Any time it does that, I lose track of the creature, but searching around quickly reveals it again. The bird is heading in another direction now, intending to cut off the sciacylch, but I know it will fail. The bat will double back again after the next hole it reaches, and the owl will only be further away.

I continue slithering through the air, picking up speed. Unless I’m wrong about the little bat’s intended path, I’ll reach it first. Once I am, I’ll be in the perfect position to cut the owl off.

As expected, the sciacylch loops back on its path and comes my way. The Ascalaphus will still catch up, but not before the bat reaches me. Scia’s kin is now in a series of tunnels and spatial bends where the only option is to either come my way, or flee back toward the owl. I have not shown hostility, so it is obvious which it’ll choose.

Both the bat and owl have noticed my presence now, but neither pays me much mind. They each come toward me, so I simply wait patiently for them to reach me.

Only, the bat turns away. It blinks to the other end of a chamber, leaving itself nowhere to run. Why? Now there’s no chance I’ll reach it first.

Hissing in annoyance, I snap forward. Are all sciacylch as… dim as Scia?