Age of Asango: Book I

Ch 1.1 The Boy in The Woods

It troubles me to hear so many call Cassian Asango "The Great Demon." When we first met we were both boys and I was just a savage in the wilderness. Cassian treated me with respect. He could be ruthless and conceited, yet he also had a deep sense of compassion. Cassian was the most remarkable person I have ever known, and I shall only ever think of him as my friend.

--Kota of the Forest

Kota stood in perfect silence upon the wet grass as the cool night air blew gently against his skin and fur. His silver eyes were fixed upon a large stag forty paces ahead. His left hand curled around the grip of his bow while he delicately rolled the shaft of an arrow between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. If he delivered a perfect shot just above the creature's front legs, he would rupture the heart and lungs and it would die quickly, with very little suffering.

He had tracked this creature for half the night, catching its scent far back in the forest and following it to the tiny stream from which it now drank. Kota would savor its flesh. He had not had meat in days.

Ever so slowly he set the notch of his arrow against the cord of his weapon and took aim. It was then that the tips of Kota's ears twitched. He held his breath. Far behind him a faint clopping sound echoed through the trees. He knew instantly what the sound meant. It was the hoof beat of a horse moving in his direction, and horses carried the dangerous creatures known as humans.

Kota glanced back over his shoulder. The sound grew louder as brush and dead twigs snapped under the weight of a horse. His gaze shifted back to the stag, which pricked its head up and looked around. After a moment's hesitation it darted away. Kota tensed in frustration, but he did not dare make a sound. Humans were known to hunt his kind, and he was alone and only a boy. He looked around for a place to hide, and his eyes fixed immediately on a large tree with branches thick with leaves.

Kota returned his arrow to the quiver draped across his left shoulder and slid his right arm through his bow. He dashed across the soft, wet ground to the tree and called upon his blood. The yellowish, pointed nails on his fingers and toes extended into thick, hooked claws as he leaped up the trunk. He dug them into the bark to keep his momentum going through quick, agile movements until he was safely up within the branches. Then Kota perched upon a thick branch and drew his weapon once more and nocked an arrow. There he sat silent, invisible, and deadly, as a shamalak should be.

The clopping grew louder and louder until a very large horse emerged carrying what seemed to be a boy. Kota peered at him through the shroud of leaves and guessed from the strange, pale features that this human was perhaps fifteen or sixteen winters old—two or three winters older than Kota himself. From what his senses told him, the young man was alone.

Kota aimed his arrow at the boy's chest. He had no wish to harm a human, but he would defend himself if necessary. He watched as the human rode his animal in a slow trot closer and closer, gazing around as if looking for something. He pulled his horse to a sharp stop at Kota's tree and looked upward.

"Hello," the boy called out.

Kota tensed. He could scarcely believe it was possible that the boy could see him, shrouded as he was by leaves. Kota had heard that humans had far weaker eyes than the shamalak, particularly at night, yet the boy continued to look right at him, waiting.

"I no enemy," Kota called out uneasily. His grandfather, who had been captured and spent many years as a slave to humans, had taught him a great deal of their language, though it felt strange to be attempting to speak it to an actual human.

"I know," said the boy, and there was the slightest touch of humor in his thin face. He held up gloved hands, palms raised and said: "I have no weapons. I am not seeking a fight. I only want to speak with you. Will you come down?"