"Wake up!" A deafening roar and a tug on his leg jolted Draa Stone from the sweet embrace of dreams.
The young man yawned as he rose from his bed and walked to the window, ignoring the whitish appendage that disappeared into the crack in the floor. Draa pushed aside the transparent, solid circle and let in the bright and cheerful light of the rising sun. Along with it, the bleating, growling, and screeching of the Nest's awakening inhabitants flew into his window.
Ignoring the cacophony, Draa gazed at the shiny wall, the brown fabric of his blanket reflected on the floor. No bed had been able to support his impressive weight for several years, but the young man had no objections to sleeping on a familiar metal floor. Draa stretched, hearing the soft clapping of tendons straightening and feeling the pleasant tingling of pain that signaled the bones returning to their former position.
The broken display, as Dad called this mirror, reflected the young man. Dense, sturdy, and able to withstand even claws, gray bone growths covered his entire body. They shaped his limbs into irregular rectangles, and the uncomfortable shoulder pads that grew on Draa's shoulders limited the mobility of his arms, preventing him from reaching the middle of his back to scratch, no matter the itch. The bone plate over his left ribs was slightly thinner and paler, but had not been painful for some time. There was black skin between the joints, mottled with tight muscles.
Two faint, beaded dots in the mirror flickered faintly with the joy of a new morning from deep within the hollows of the bone shell that had grown around his skull. Draa cracked his clawed fingers, working carefully through each phalanx, lest the joints dare harden again. Each Malformed bore their own unique flaw, and his was that his body was trying to solidify into a single lump.
Draa quickly punched the air thirty times with his fists and exhaled in relief that his elasticity remained the same. His smile widened when he noticed a bucket of water by the bed. Mom had quietly brought it over, doing his part of the chores. The young man washed his body, using only half the water.
An underground river carrying clean water ran deep beneath the Nest's catacombs, and thirst had never been a problem here, but Draa knew how difficult and stressful it was for Mom to step outside their lair for any reason... He shook his head sharply, banishing the horrible memories. The day was too good to spoil with his grumpy attitude.
Talk about a good day. Draa knelt, shoved aside the plain stone he'd used to plug a hole in the wall, and stuck his hand inside. His fingers fumbled for a thin book, the most precious of his treasures after his family, and then found several round balls. These were yummies, made from sweet mushrooms found far in the depths of their home. He slipped them under a bone vambrace and went to meet everyone.
No matter how hard he tried, Draa's feet always dented the metal floor, creating an uneven surface throughout the house. But the family ignored this minor annoyance. Since they'd settled here, the scruffy walls had been cleaned from any traces of rust and congealed vomit, gaining a relatively clean color for a few years before his little sister and brother colored them brightly with crayons.
The pleasant smell of freshly cut meat led the boy into the kitchen, where a bundle of pale tentacles instantly coiled around him.
"Morning. Good," cooed Nuergh Stone.
Mom traversed on all fours, the slit of her mouth reaching her round and sensitive ears. Despite eating regularly and abundantly, Nuergh always had a haggard appearance about herself, her green skin literally glued to her bones. Pale appendages, each longer than her body, wriggled from a flower-shaped bulb on her back, peeking out from the slit of her leather suit.
One of the appendages held a frantically buzzing Euka. The little sister's membranous wings beat furiously, wanting to lift her yellow-green body to the heavens, her six thin, needle-like legs pressed against the appendage, and the faceted eyes glared pleadingly at her brother, who shrugged guiltily. The kitchen window was open to let out the stench of cooked giblets, and Euka didn't yet know how dangerous it was outside. Nor had the others any idea how deadly the venom of his sis' sting was.
"Morning, Mom." Draa kissed her forehead and grabbed Euka, cradling her gently against his chest. "And good morning for you too, little one. Don't be a hooligan, okay?" He handed his little sister back into his mom's embrace, despite the despairing look and the spurt of a scent mark accusing him of betrayal.
His little sister hadn't gained the ability to speak yet, but the grinding tone coming from her mandibles conveyed to Draa everything she thought of him. He waved at her.
"Get. William," Nuergh uttered with difficulty and returned to the table, deftly preparing portions of food for the family and sprinkling them with tasteless but supposedly salubrious mushroom spores.
"Get Daddy?! As in, get on his nerves?" laughter came from the ceiling. "I can do that; send me!"
Draa turned around just in time to catch the boy jumping at him, and the brothers laughed. Akrn Stone was four years younger than Draa and traveled on a single, large, sole-like foot that was capable of sticking to any surface. A protective hood of plates formed of keratinized skin kept his back safe from harm while mischievous, pale red eyes prowled Draa's body, wondering where to slap with two long tentacles ending in pincers.
"'Sleepyhead!" Akrn accused Draa at last. "Your snoring was disturbing my sleep."
"My bad." Draa yawned.
"Not that important!" Akrn blurted out. "I need to go over a few things with you. Super important! Can't wait!"
"Can wait. After breakfast," Draa promised him, sensing his mother's gaze on the back of his head. Nuergh was a wonderful, caring person, but a rather brutal flogging awaited any of her sons who dared to overstep their boundaries and not helping out.
Draa tossed his brother back up to the ceiling and headed down the corridor. Few in the Nest had lairs as extensive as theirs, where each member of the family had their own room instead of huddling with the others. And only the very rare, weird, or desperate Malformed dared to settle in the upper part of their town, unafraid of the passing storms.
But few Malformed were as strong as William, and none of them were as distinct in terms of character.
William had come to the Nest from the Softskins. Born a mutant, one of those who were despised and hated by their own kind, he was lucky enough to be permitted to stay with his parents instead of being cast out to die in the desert like the rest. Dad's eyes had a strange expression when he talked about studying at school and the friends he had among the Softskins. He had honestly admitted to Draa that he missed his former life, but he would never trade his family for a chance to go back.
One day, William's mutation had changed him even further, and he was banished. The lone man had traveled to the Nest and asked for shelter, and the chieftain, in a rare act of kindness, accepted him into the herd and gave him a wife. William had opened his own tannery, shared his repair and construction skills with the other Malformed, and lived a quiet life, secretly teaching his kits little more than the chieftain permitted. From him, Draa learned the importance of concealing things.
Draa opened the door to the workroom, and the pungent smells of feces, urine, grease, fresh and soaked leather hit his nostrils, easily overcoming Dad's best efforts to organize proper ventilation. He quickly slammed the door shut before the stench filled their entire lair and the figure shuddered near the table, stopping stitching the cusack's hide into a six-armed jacket.
"Draa?" William set aside his needles. "Did something happen? Why are you awake?"
Standing in the middle of the rolls of skin drying on the ropes, the mutant looked like a walking thorn. Dark brown spikes and cracked slabs of hardened skin that had taken on sharp angles covered every millimeter of William's body, creating a horrifying image of a brutally flayed man. He had two knees bent backward on each leg, and his arms had extra elbows. The span of his shoulders surpassed even the chieftain's, and his height reached three meters. Despite his appearance and the pile of sharp blades sticking out of his body, William's eyes, the eyes of a Softskin, looked at his son with warmth and a little confusion.
"It's morning, Dad." Draa checked the workshop and whistled at the pile of finished suits. "Were you up all night? You sure you're okay?"
"So-so." William grimaced, the blades around his lips scraping against each other. "Been thinking about one thing. Everything's fine."
"Then let's go eat or Mom will be mad!" Draa grabbed his father's hand, dragging him along before his non-Malformed brain would confuse him again.
William was a bit of an oddball. He was stronger than most Malformed in the Nest, yet he never raised his hand or voice at his kits, and even now he tried to twist his wrist to avoid scratching his son. It was weird. No other parents treated their offspring like that; even Mom had been whipping them plenty. Draa loved Dad for that tenderness. But he didn't let go of his hand. He was a tough lad; a few notches was nothing to him.
"Meh!" Akrn whined when Nuergh placed the clay plates with their portions on the table. Akrn and Draa had spent an entire day making them in accordance with Dad's lessons. "Again cusack's liver, mushrooms, Insectoids' grub, and fat. I want meat of Softskins!"
"We don't eat their flesh in this house," William said sternly.
"But I want to! Their meat is soft, tender, juicy..."
"Meat. Juicy!" Mom's appendage grabbed a piece off her plate, bringing it up to her son's eyes, and Akrn swallowed convulsively from hunger against his will. His pincers lashed out, pulling the piece away and shoving it into his mouth.
"Fair. Juicy. But not the same..." Akrn stammered, mouth full.
"Son, sometimes we have to restrain our desires." William sighed and placed his hand gently over Nuergh's.
"Show cowardice, you mean," Akrn stated.
"No," William corrected. "Controlling your desires or instincts is not cowardice. Think about the instinct of self-preservation. It's a good thing, but when you see a friend in trouble, in a quicksand, for example, your instinct urges you to stay away, to stay safe, but you rush to help anyway."
"Depends on the situation, but I agree," muttered the six-year-old.
"Now for the Softskins' flesh." William smiled. "To get it, you have to hurt or kill a person. A living, thinking being who might have a family waiting for him at home..."
"I don't want to kill anyone!" Akrn interrupted his father. "Why hurt them? The Softskins are boring, dumb, and crazy. They die in sandstorms more often than Insectoids. A bunch of corpses are hauled in every day; what's wrong with eating those? They don't need their meat anymore! Waste not, want not, I say!"
"It instills the habit of indulging your darkest desires. Akrn, you don't want to kill anyone. Never, ever?" William clarified, and the boy nodded, narrowing and widening his leg to swing back and forth. "It is a very noble wish. But the wrong one. Unfortunately, there will be times when you will have to fight back..."
Draa snapped his fingers swiftly, catching Euka's attention while Dad preached about morality and what was right and wrong. The boy pretended to drop a piece of meat and slipped off his steel chair, accompanied by the construction's relieved groan.
There was a time when they all ate off the floor like the rest of the Malformed, but after Mom had heard stories of the Softskins' parenting methods, she overcame her fear and left the lair, bringing back broken planks of wood or a torn-off steel plate that she later rolled into tubes. Within a few weeks of her travels, the family had a simple, high black table and several chairs.
Draa didn't enjoy these things; he hated the way he had to bend his knees to keep from pushing the table away, and the fact that they always hurt afterwards. But to please their parents, the kits agreed to accept the change.
Euka's black, bottomless eyes faced Draa's under the table, and the boy smirked, pulling out the delicious yummies. His little sis' mandibles opened in delight, and she grabbed the treats greedily, popping each one and sucking out the juices before grinding them into mush. Draa patted her on the head. Euka was unusual, even for a Malformed. She was already three years old, but she still hadn't spoken a word. The little wonder wasn't stupid, but a certain otherworldliness, stunted development, and strangeness in her. She avoided her brothers, tried to fly outside, didn't really listen to her parents, and communicated with everyone through scent marks.
Akrn was the first one who managed to interest her, introducing her to the crayons that Draa had acquired for him. Euka spent the entire day coloring her room and was very upset when she ran out of crayons. Draa then gave her a yummy, and it was the first time she accepted the food from his hands. After that, she let him snuggle her, and Draa tried to pamper her whenever possible to make Euka feel like a member of their family and not a stranger in their lair.
Whitish tentacles wrapped around their waists, and the siblings were yanked out from under the table.
"Spoil. Appetite." Nuergh paused, attempting to recall the speech, and stopped William with a sweep of her appendage. "Don't. Euka's. Main. Dish. Eat. Then the pranks." She smiled, pleased to be able to say the whole sentence herself, and Draa returned the smile warmly and finished his portion.
Scum. Bastard. Filth. If I had just been stronger! If only I could have stopped him... If he had been stronger that day, if he had been born bigger, tougher and blessed with power... If he wasn't a coward, he would have lunged at that thing from behind and strangled it until its neck snapped. Some things could not be changed. Draa suppressed the hatred within himself. A man could not reverse a sandstorm, raise the dead, or stop this monster. He would only add to Mom's grief if he tried or, worse, ruined the whole family.
But it was so painful. Helplessness tormented him, but for Mom and Dad's sake, he held on, never daring to talk about those days. Mom was getting better. He was sure of it.
After the breakfast, Dad returned to work, and the brothers secluded themselves in his room.
"What did you want to talk about?" asked Draa, dodging a pincer aimed at his face.
His brother's tentacle moved like a living whip, but unlike it, Akrn deliberately held back the blow aimed at the junction of the bones between Draa's pelvis and torso at the very last second, redirecting the attack upward, hoping to catch him off guard. Draa responded with a swift thrust at his brother's spine, but missed as Akrn pushed off the floor and landed on the wall.
This scuffle wasn't serious. Dad didn't like them hurting anyone in the herd, and so the boys had been having play fights at home, practicing and preparing for any surprises. Akrn's tentacles whipped through the air, his pincers snapping ferociously as they approached Draa from the back and stopped abruptly as Akrn leapt into his brother's arms.
"Teach me to read!" the kid asked.
"I don't know how," laughed Draa and sat down, leaning against the wall of his room.
"Liar," Akrn stretched out the word and shot his eyes at the rock plugging the hole. "I saw you pull out a paper thing and read it." Draa stared at him, stunned. "I won't tell anyone, honest. Teach me? Please?"
Draa sighed and craned his neck as far as it would go, studying the ceiling. "No. I don't know how to myself." He sat his brother down beside him and pulled his treasure from its hiding place, opening the book to a page where a figure in a supposedly bright red and gold tight-fitting suit used a bolt of lightning to burn a hole in a metal machina that was threatening the children. Time had faded the once vibrant colors from the illustrations on the paper, but his imagination sufficed to fill in the blanks. He pointed to the black symbols inside the white cloud. "See? Those are the words. I memorized them when Dad was reading the story." His brother sighed, and Draa asked. "So why do you want to learn to read?"
"I found some strange canisters in the tunnels under the lair..."
"Akrn." Draa placed his hands on his hump and tried to speak calmly, despite the fear threatening to break his voice. "You can't leave the lair. Not even through the tunnels in the walls. If you're spotted, you'll be..."
"Squashed, yes." The boy nodded seriously. "Listen, Draa. I'm not stupid, I'm not weak, I'm not slow, and I never take risks. Because I know you're a crybaby and would weep if something happened to me."
"As if." Draa frowned, took a seat next to his brother, and then smiled broadly. "Well, maybe a little."
"Will you read it to me? This book."
"For someone who doesn't hold the Softskins in high regard, there's surprisingly a lot you want to know about them!" said Draa and leaned over to his brother. "Want to know a secret? They're just like us."
"A load of dung!" Akrn laughed. "They have no claws, wings, scales... Nothing! And they kill us."
"And we don't?" Draa asked seriously, wrapping his arms around his legs. "Dad was raised by them, so I'm sure I'm right, because for a long while he was of them. And..."
"And?"
"Don't tell anyone," Draa asked. "When I leave the Nest to hunt, I occasionally go to the steel platform in the south. I'll show it to you next year, if you finally grow past baby size."
"Go screw yourself." Akrn took offense.
"You first." This time Draa didn't dodge the blow, and his head jerked from the slap, accompanied by a slight tingling in his cheek. "Sorry. Nervous. The Softskins visit this platform regularly. We often pick up the mutant children they leave there to... To." He was silent, hating this knowledge and his inability to do anything about it. Not everyone was lucky. Why couldn't humans act like humans? Like their family?
"I will never ask for that meat again," Akrn paled, and Draa scratched the top of his head.
"But at that time, an unusual thing happened. A group of ours were about to take away a crying baby girl when the Softskins showed up. I thought it was a trap to lure us out, but they rescued the girl, gave her water, carefully placed her in a strange box to protect her from the sun, and headed for the distant settlement." Draa picked himself up by the jaw and confessed. "The group wanted to attack and tear the Softskins apart, but I stopped them." He showed his brother his fist, recalling how he had ripped a piece of skin from the hunter's muzzle. "The chieftain didn't like that."
"Is that why he did it?" Akrn nodded at his brother's side. "I thought he was just a sadist."
"Worse than that. Imagine the worst, the most disgusting thing you know. The chieftain is more horrible than that." Draa shuddered. "Never, ever anger him. I do not regret what I did. Chance... We're all the same, and somehow, we think we're different, hating, murdering." He closed his eyes. "Stupid. But I think the group that snitched on me and demanded that I be killed regretted it. The chieftain did punish me. And eradicated weakness. Just not in the way they wanted to. Dad has never read this book to me since that day. He probably thinks I'm weak."
The two of them sat together in silence, while Draa remembered that terrifying moment when he had met Draa on the street and grabbed him by the neck. Thank the Planet, Dad wasn't around or the family might have lost a member. The chieftain wasn't angry. That was what burned into the boy's memory the most. That monster talked cheerfully, ripping the bone plate from Draa's rib along with the muscle and skin. He had asked Draa how the boy was doing in the Nest, if everything was to his liking, if he had any requests...
While Draa screamed in pain, listening to that obliging and mocking voice, unable to break the grip around his neck.
I trust, I have made my point clear? Stay in line, hero.
Draa didn't feel like a hero. Not after that night. Heroes acted in spite of their fear, and he was too cowardly for that.
Fuck him. Draa picked up a book and began reading his brother a story about heroes, about people who were far better, braver, and wiser than he was. They had almost lost track of time when Dad knocked on the door and Draa jumped up, hiding his treasure and promising his brother to read to him next time if he would listen to Mom and avoid sneaking into the tunnels.
It was time to do his share of the chores around the lair. Draa tried to help with the cleaning when he could, but Mom was stubborn and rarely shared the work. Frustrated and wanting to help, Draa visited Dad, seeking to learn leatherwork. This undertaking was accompanied by varying degrees of success. The kid became proficient at drying and soaking material, but the embroidery and cutting done by his hands often ended with very mixed results, though no one complained about the shortened suits.
Draa couldn't just sit around doing nothing for the family, and William had given him the honorable task of carrying the crafted items to Paarfu, the owner of the service shop. Today's burden amounted to eight bundles, and after stowing them on his shoulder, Draa ventured outside, stepping into the shadows that covered the entire circular stone staircase leading deeper into the Nest.
No one knew exactly what had happened to the mountain that served as the foundation of their city. Mountains often had cavities, cracks, but they were never hollow. The Nest had a gaping void in its center, a near-perfect line that ran from the nonexistent peak to the caverns serving as pathways to the depths. Chunks of metal, broken pipes, torn wires, and shiny mirrors lined the Nest's walls, some of them piercing through the stone and protruding from the outside.
The Malformed rejoiced at such a find. A perfect fortress whose depths dripped an unknown liquid from huge cisterns. The stench of this liquid attracted the Insectoids, and mushrooms grew around the puddles of iridescent liquid. Their previous chieftain immediately had set up his lair near the largest of the pools, crunching the Insectoids with pleasure, while the Malformed had established their lairs and a small dungeon in the dark depths.
The weak, the unimportant, the wounded, and the useless made their lairs within the walls of the mountain. The higher the lair, the less influential its inhabitants were, and the more often the warriors of the depths came to harass them, often beating them and demanding food for protection. But no one had the guts to hurt their family, except the chieftain. The last one who had dared nearly died when William broke his arms. Had it not been for the mercy of Dad, who fed the dishonored soldier for a month, the wounded Malformed would have starved to death.
Draa liked it upstairs. The adults on the lower levels were rowdy, arrogant, and often spiraled into mindless violence at the slightest provocation, not caring who they maimed or killed. But there was comradery at the top of the Nest, and families often exchanged gifts, jokes, or simply helped one another to survive harsh times.
"I'm telling you for sure, I saw a flying mountain!" The Malformed bleated, choking on his own saliva. Years had wrinkled his skin, and someone had torn off the spike that served as his arm, but the old man moved easily, carrying the Insectoid scraps to his lair.
"You drank that stuff from below again?" His mate wrinkled his nose, brushing the stump of his proboscis. "Mountains can't fly, old man."
"This one flew, dipshit! I saw her when the storm caught me outside two days ago. She was like a spear of steel, lit by a hellish glow from…"
Draa ignored the nonsense and moved on. Age was playing tricks on the older generation. No stone flew by itself unless it was thrown. Luckily, there were no warriors around, or they would have beaten the poor old man.
The path down was a pile of boulders and metal plates collected near the mountainside. On the chieftain's orders, the strongest of the Malformed had literally built the base of the road into the rock, and the others had secured it with ropes and found wires so that no one would have to climb down. One of the few good things the bastard had done.
Surprisingly, the road was almost empty. No one was fighting; there were no attempts to tear apart the weaker ones, and Draa hissed at the small kit trying to slip out of the lair. The four-legged asshole hissed back at him but returned to the dark tunnel from where a roar came. Kits were not allowed outside, that much was common knowledge. Too often the larger warriors crushed them with their feet, heedless of their parents' begging howls.
Draa quickened his pace when he heard the thud of a punch bouncing off a shell and the familiar laughter coming from not far from Paarfu's shop.
"How many times must I tell you not to dare let that louse into the streets?"
Three youths surrounded the long, six-legged Malformed, who was covering his small sister, hiding between his legs, with his claws. Black carapace covered his entire body except for his bruised, pale, long neck and head. Eshtu tried desperately to shield his neck from the blows of the black scorpion tail, and tears streamed from his red eyes as the bullies jumped around him, daring him to fight back.
Near the scene of the fight stood Tigfy, a skinny girl whose ribs pressed hard against her thin skin, covered in yellowish, black-striped fur. Her reddish eyes were so dim they seemed black. She clenched her fists, maybe enjoying the scene or resenting it. The other Malformed passing by simply chuckled, pleased by the misery of a weaker member.
"Perhaps if we break your leg, you'll learn to hear?" The green-scaled Vyfka asked, placing a clawed paw on the joint of Eshtu's leg. A disheveled lock of her black, unwashed hair was pulled back into a bun, and the girl's violet eyes shone.
"That's enough!" roared Draa. Eshtu's father had been shot by a Softskin a month ago, and the young boy was doing his best to raise his sister alone. Mom had offered Eshtu to stay with them, but the fool had refused. Whatever his reasons, Draa wasn't going to stand by and do nothing while a harmless kid was abused.
Ignoring his cry, Vyfka raised her hand and aimed her claws at the soft skin of Eshtu's knee. Draa lunged at the girl, knocking her helpers off their feet with the sheer weight of his body, and punched her in the nose. He held back the blow to avoid breaking the cartilage, but the force of the blow still sent her reeling, nearly knocking her off her feet.
"What's the big idea? Tired of living?" Vyfka roared, holding a hand over her bleeding face. The tips of her claws left deep scratches on her jade scales, but she didn't seem to care.
"Leave him alone," Draa said calmly, steadying his nerves. His instincts were screaming, demanding him to tackle the smaller girl and then tear and maul her until she and her gang submitted to his superiority. Vyfka felt the same way; he was sure of it and tried to offer her a way out. "Get out of my sight."
"Are you and that fatherless thing friends, bonehead?" Her lips curled into a smile. "Or lovers? Maybe I should pay him a visit at night and find out more..."
Eshtu whimpered in fear, and Draa stepped closer to Vyfka, ignoring the flash of uncertainty in her eyes and the bubbling poison on her lips. This was dangerous. If she spat that stuff, it could blind him.
"If I notice a scratch or a broken limb on Eshtu, I will visit your lair," Draa promised. "And break you. Finger by finger, limb by limb." Carefully lowering himself, he picked up a stone and squashed it into the sand flowing between his fingers. "Want that? Think I'm lying? Test me, you motherless cur."
"At least I know who my father is, you bastard," Vyfka said slowly. The color of her upper lip changed to white, her hands trembling with restrained aggression. Draa didn't push her. "Bah, I have no time for this nonsense. Let's go hunting!" she barked to her uncertain friends.
Draa watched her go. The stupid asshole was always looking for trouble on her ass, scaring those who dared to break the unwritten rules. It was a miracle she hadn't maimed or killed anyone yet. And why did Dad think Vyfka wasn't that bad?
He exhaled, letting go of his anger, not surprised that Tigfy was no longer in sight. It was regrettable to the point of annoyance. Dad had long since asked him to have the chat with the girl, and Draa himself wanted to know a little about that appearing and disappearing mystery. It wasn't safe for the women to be outside their lairs. The Malformed weren't known for restraining their urges, and Mom had maimed several warriors who thought that Dad was too much of a coward to fight back.
Tigfy and Vyfka were safe for now, but both would soon come of age, and then… He. That monster will happen. Draa closed his eyes, chastising himself for hating Vyfka. Sadness and a terrible fate awaited her; no wonder the girl was so crazy. But at least she had friends. No one even knew where Tigfy lived, and judging by her protruding ribs, she wasn't eating well. He had to find a way to offer her a safe place to go.
"Thank you, Draa!" Eshtu picked up his four-legged sister and bowed, pressing his forehead against the stones. "I will pay you back! What do you want, meat or…"
"Stop being stubborn," Draa said bluntly. "How long will you survive here alone? A month, two? Eshtu, if not for your own sake, then for your sister's, go up. If you don't like our lair, there's an empty cave nearby. We'll help you get comfortable."
"But." The boy thumped his tail nervously on the ground. "Ma and Da fought so hard to get the lair here! And the height..." He lowered his gaze.
"It's not fair. And scary, I agree," Draa lied, putting a hand on Eshtu's shoulder. Heights never scared him. "But one must live, not survive." He glared at the adults, who did nothing to help the boy or the little one. They didn't give a damn. "You or she won't find happiness here. You won't be able to guard your sister and hunt and keep yourself in shape. Above, my parents will help you. It's better when your back is covered. Doubly better if it is done by a friend."
He patted the boy's shell and headed below, spotting Paarfu outside his shop. The long and thin Malformed was dressed in a neat suit made by William; his shoulders were adorned with chitinous plates, and a belt of multicolored glitter wrapped around his waist. Small, pinkish feathers covered the body of the service merchant, the tips of his long nails touching each other in front of his beak.
Paarfu traded in comforts. Whether it was a leather suit, food, or a rare toy, the merchant had it all. He accepted payment in either things or favors. Carnal pleasures didn't interest the old merchant, but he paid well for clearing the tunnels of Insectoids that tried to infiltrate his store or for punishing non-paying customers.
Draa gulped convulsively, noticing the hanging carcasses inside the shop and smelling the sweet odor of rottenness. Softskins. All the kits had either secretly or directly tasted this exquisite meat. Its taste was unforgettable, and his stomach rumbled at the sight of three decapitated bodies hanging from clean hooks. The blood on their tanned skin had stiffened in the cold. Paarfu was old, but his power gave him the gift of creating zones where the heat could not penetrate, and several idiots who had tried to forcefully take away the merchant's wares had died in horrible agony as Paarfu drained the warmth out of their bodies.
The kid closed his eyes and counted to five. It helped; he no longer wished to break the promise. Draa tore his gaze away from the corpses and made his way to the merchant, bowing in respect.
"Good morning, Paarfu. There are hardly any warriors on the road today; you have any idea why..."
Draa stopped, noticing what Paarfu was looking at. A massive steel gate barred the visible entrance into the Nest. The Malformed never opened it; there was no need. Lightless tunnels and crevices provided sufficient means to leave their city. But the gate was seen as a silent threat, and today the links of the chain gleamed in the morning light.
A body dangled in the air, like a fly caught in a web. It was a Malformed, his face bitten off, his entire body covered in horrific lacerations so deep that broken bones were visible in the torn flesh. The man did not die easily; each of his limbs had been broken several times, his eyes eaten out, the flesh torn from his back, and his spine half gnawed away. The killer had devoured the marrow, then driven cruel hooks into the body and hanged the wretched soul for all to see.
"He tried to tell the chieftain no when he decided to visit his home," Paarfu said with a stony expression. His finger struck the belt twice. "The poor guy yelled all night while the chieftain... Hmm. Never mind. The caravan was sighted on our border. Our glorious leader led the warriors to punish the idiots."
Been thinking about one thing. Sometimes we have to restrain our desires. Draa remembered Dad's words. He knew. The boy didn't blame him for doing nothing. No one. No one in the entire world could stop the beast responsible for it. The previous chieftain had tried, others had tried, and all had fallen, because when people, no matter how evil, cunning, strong, or clever, challenged the demon, there could only be one outcome. They had little choice but to endure and live.
How long will you justify your weakness? Whispered a voice in his head, triggering those memories, and Draa bit his tongue.
"If you're hungry, I have a stale piece in my shop. His family will pick him up," tossed Paarfu.
"I wasn't going to. Here, from my father." Draa handed the goods to the merchant. "Look, Paarfu, I know this is unusual, but could you give the payment yourself? I need to leave town for a while."
"I'm running a business here, not a charity," the merchant said, studying the suits. "But Vyfka has been scaring away visitors, and since you spooked her, I'll do you this one favor. What's on your mind?"
"Thank you." Draa's smile didn't touch his eyes. The service of chasing away annoying visitors was much more expensive than a simple delivery. "Do you have any more candy left? You know, the ones we snatched from the Softskins."
"Conquered," the merchant corrected him. "Yeah, half a box. Quite a popular product."
"Super! I'll get you a sand lion for the rest."
"Acceptable." Paarfu leaned quickly toward the young man, his beak almost touching Draa's nose, and lowered his voice. "And you'll get a look at the platform, right?" The merchant hummed in response to the surprise. "I have eyes. You, on the other hand, may not have them soon if you're not cautious. Draa, you don't disgust me. Don't do anything to draw the chieftain's attention again. There may be no mercy the second time."
"I will be careful," Draa promised.
