On the Felixes of Lumaria

“What. Is that.” Satha was the first to speak, as usual.

Before them, aground on shore, lay the huge canoe the matriarch had called a ship. It was bigger than anything they could have imagined.

The thing was a wooden monstrosity, great and terrible. It was thrice as big as their largest longhouse, with masts as thick and tall as tree trunks sprouting from its deck. From it, scattered across the beach like a blight, was a dump of miscellaneous wreckage, most likely from which Thrawn extracted the blade.

“I have never seen anything like it.” Kyra, her third, couldn’t help but mutter.

The huntresses hid amongst the trees, not yet daring to reveal themselves and traverse the open shore. The ship’s sight had sent them into a fearful shock, and there was no way to know who or what was on it if they were watching, or what kind of danger they posed. True, Thrawn made it there and back again, but he did not venture into the ship itself, or represent the same threat they did; they could have very well have let him go.

“It’s never too late to back down. Let the sea have its walled canoe back.” Nya huffed.

Myrrha sighed; Nya despised their mission. Myrrha knew this and had even offered her to stay behind, but Nya refused, citing that “I am a huntress of my tribe. I go where it sends me.” That, however, did not stop her from complaining the entire trip, something that Myrrha was having quite enough of.

“Nya and Dinka, you stay here and cover us. Satha, Kiri, Mira-”

“Guard duty? I am your second, not the cadre runt!” Nya spoke out.

“I thought you were a huntress of your tribe and did as she was told, was I wrong?”

Nya bit her tongue, “No.” She clarified, “but… Myrrha I need this. True, I would much rather we just torched that thing from afar, or even better leave it be, but if we are to face this, I want to see my enemy in the eyes. I deserve that much.”

Myrrha watched her, searching for deception, but found none. She considered it; Nya wanted blood over what happened to Thrawn, that much was clear, and while a little bloodlust was always a joy to see, it could not impede their quest. They were here for answers, not vengeance, at least not yet. Then again, Nya was her friend most trusted huntress – or as trusted as could be – leaving her behind would all but shatter that.

“You do as you are told and if not then it is I who will want blood. Is that understood?”

“Always.”

Myrrha nodded. “Very well. Sutra and Dinka, you stay here and cover for us. The rest, with me.” They all nodded, and like shadows, the selected huntresses emerged from the tree line, rushing towards their goal in a cautious dash.

The ship had torn a scar in the shore, parting its sands like a spear. It was partly sunk now, with the rising tide, but still firmly stuck. The structure was dark and inert, its floorboards creaking as they shrank and settled in the night’s chill.

Reaching the side of the boat, Myrrha popped out her claws and lunged onto the ship, digging them firmly to its side. The others did the same and, together, they began to climb. Myrrha stopped when they reached the ledge, her ears perking up once more to sense any signs of life before jumping aboard with her cadre in toe, ready for battle.

Only for all to be nearly floored by the putrid smell. Before, it was masked by the ocean breeze, but now that they were on deck, it was unavoidable. It emanated from within the ship, streaming out from a bust open door that led deeper.

“Yuck.” Kiri wrinkled her nose “Rotten flesh.”

“But of what?” Myrrha kneeled next to the door. It was small and narrow, but they could squeeze through. The smell would pose a challenge, though.

“Here, Look!” Satha called “There is blood all over here.”

Myrrha left Kiri watching the door and joined Satha. She kneeled next to the reddish floorboards, brushing a finger across it before tasting it. “Stale, but it still comes off, it’s less than a week old at most.”

“What is it blood of?”

“Monkey, judging by the taste. Without it being fresh it’s hard to tell.”

“Where is the body then?”

“Probably carried off.”

“But by what?” Satha scanned the deck before her eyes settled on the pitch-black doorway.

“Or who.” Myrrha corrected; her eyes fixed on the door. “We will find soon enough. You and Nya, with me, the rest stay here, see what else you can find.”

“But it reeks in there!” Satha snarled, her brave exterior faltering against the unknown.

“It will reek of your carcass soon enough if you don’t do as I say!” Myrrha put her down. She was in no mood for banter, not tonight, the ship was bigger and more terrifying than she had expected, and the body-less blood trail did little to calm her down. She realized that maybe she was too harsh without reason, but apologizing would be too complex.

Satha was silent after that, but Myrrha knew she wouldn’t stay that way. Death was a constant presence, and one often jokes about it in the same breath they cause it. It was a passing threat, Satha would get over it in the blink of an eye and go back to being the living picture of the arrogance of youth, much to Myrrha’s frustration.

“It’s a tight fit, we will have to hunch down. It will be difficult to move there. It’s risky.” Nya stood beside the doorframe, easily dwarfing it.

“It is, but we must reach the heart of this wooden beast to find answers. The goddess meant for us to find something, and so we shall. Let’s go.” And with that, Myrrha took the lead, hunching down significantly to fit into the reeking corridor.

It was horrible.

Myrrha was used to tight spaces. There were areas in the deep jungle in which the vegetation grew so thick that the pathways were all but clogged with green, making her resort to crawling through narrow spots while being hugged by roots, vines, and trunks from every side as she squeezed through. The ship’s corridor was not nearly as tight a fit, but it was somehow worse. It was the smell, she and her huntresses were used to the fresh clean air of the jungle, not this putrid stale blanket that enveloped them. It reeked of death, and Myrrha caught herself holding her breath more than once.

Yet, they persevered and delved deeper, immersing themselves in the bowels of the ship, their eyes gleaming in the dark, reflecting the little to no light there was. In their incursion, they found hammocks, barrels of contaminated water, weird holes sticks, and even determined where all the bodies were likely stashed, although the smell warded them off. So far, there were no signs of life, which was a relief.

Finally, they reached a blocked door, which Myrrha made quick work of by busting the lock as silently as possible, freeing the way.

The trio rushed into the new room, checking every corner. It was distinctly different from the rest of the ship; it had a fluffy rug with intricate patterns and lavish furniture the likes of which they had never seen. Nya immediately went looking for threats, while Satha indulged herself, playing with a wooden closet and accidentally breaking its handle.

“Sorry.” She blinked, but that blunder did not deter her curiosity, judging by how she soon took another chance by sitting on a couch in the corner. The seat felt child-like against her frame, but still comfortable, judging by how she all but sank into it

“Quit slacking. Enemy territory” Nya blinked furiously at her.

“All dead. Enemy dead. Safe.” She shot back.

The two argued on while Myrrha’s attention drifted to the large bed on the other side. They had sleeping mats in the tribe, but nothing like this. She caressed the sheets, which were so soft the feeling sent shivers down her spine, but she let go when she noticed Nya’s gaze upon her. As far as her second was concerned, those were enemy sheets, enemy chairs - enemy comfort.

She had to concede, however, that Nya’s impatience was justified. They were not here to indulge; they had a mission to accomplish. “Spread out. Seek out. Find out.” Myrrha blinked and the other two left the room, going deeper into the ship, Satha being almost giddy about it by now. Myrrha was about to do the same when he heard it: a hollow.

It happened when she stepped over a floorboard and heard the creaking sound echoing beneath her. That was no floor, but a hidden space! She jumped out of it, landing silently on the other side of the room before turning to face it. Then, with care, she knelt and placed her ear against the floor, closing her eyes to focus.

She heard a cough.

The life-sign sent her back onto her feet and she retreated, her ears perked and tail stuffed. There were survivors.

She did not know how to feel about that, what would she even find hiding beneath that trapdoor? Would it even be like them? She had heard stories of sea creatures—none pleasant—but had never truly believed them. Tales of monstrous, scaly, tentacled fish-people with dagger-like teeth who would drag you to the depths if you swam too far. This ship came from the sea, was that what she would find down there?

She kept her slit pupils fixated on the door. She couldn’t leave, running off to find Nya and Satha would leave it unguarded, although, breaking the silence to call them out would also bring its own set of risks, but she supposed it was unavoidable. “Nya, Satha! To me, now!”

They were soon upon her.

“There, it’s a secret door. There is breathing there.” The revelation shook them to their core, and they turned to her for instructions. “Get in position, Nya, you will open it-”

“What?”

“You will open it,” Myrrha repeated, her tone leaving no room for discussion. “Satha, you are with me, claws out, get ready for anything.

Both nodded, taking positions. Nya could not find a handle, so she punched through the wood and made her own. It was noisy but necessary. Nya then spread her legs to the sides for a better pulling angle, looking at Myrrha one last time for confirmation before yanking it open.

On cue, Satha and Myrrha advanced with a roar, ready for anything, but what they found down there: curled up unconscious in a ball with a bloody, badly bandaged, wound on its shoulder had no scales, no fangs, and definitely no tentacles. In truth, it looked remarkably like them: furless skin with two arms, two legs, and so on.

At the bottom of the hidden trapdoor, there was a man.

Satha leaned down, squinting to get a better look, “Is that a kitten?”

“Then where is its tail?”

“Maybe ripped out? It happens.”

“No.” Nya interposed once she had a better look. “It’s no kitten. Smell it, it’s an adult. Besides, look at its ears, they are round, like a monkey’s.”

It was true, Myrrha had not even noticed that, but the creature’s ears were not only in the wrong place – at the sides of its head instead of at the top – but were also round and lobe-ish, much like the ones of the tree-fairing monkeys they occasionally had for supper.

Without a word, Myrrha dropped down the hole, kneeling beside it. It wasn’t so scary now; its small frame about the size of a kitten and not as lithe. Besides, it was wounded and seemed to have been deprived of food for days, its bony ribcage rising and falling meekly as his body kept him asleep in a desperate bid to preserve energy.

“What are you waiting for? Slit its throat and let us go, this place gives me the shivers.” Nya called from above.

“No,” Myrrha whispered, more to herself than anyone. “We were supposed to find something – or someone, I think this is it.”

“Myrrha, you cannot be serious-” but Nya stopped when Myrrha gave her a look that made clear that the next time she spoke up it would be her with a slit throat. She then turned to Satha, “Help me, see about his wounds.”

“I am no tribe mother.” The girl sneered.

“Do you renounce your mother that much? She must have taught you something, just take a look.”

Satha grunted, but acquiesced, reaching down “Pass him to me”

Myrrha nodded, picking the man up and passing his light form to Satha.

The younger took him, setting him down on the bed, and unveiling the bandages on his shoulder, clicking her tongue at what she saw. “It’s not lethal, or at least wasn’t supposed to be, but he is too weak. He needs food and fresh bandages… a bit of sun also wouldn’t hurt.”

“Can you apply new bandages?”

“No, this is beyond my skills, he needs mother – I mean – the tribe-mother.”

“Myrrha…” Nya began, allowing Myrrha the opportunity to stop her before pressing on “This is a creature we know nothing about. He could be dangerous, need I remind you of what happened to Thrawn?”

“No, you don’t, but then what do you suggest we do?”

“If you don’t want to kill him, leave him be, let nature run its course.”

“I mean, I am kind of wondering if it tastes good,” Satha tried interjecting but was silenced by the more experienced huntresses.

Nya approached Myrrha, whispering in her ear. “I won’t pretend that I speak for the moon, but when I look at him, I see trouble. Besides, even if we do bring him with us, what then? Look at him: so small and frail. The jungle is going to gobble him up.”

“You first say he is dangerous and then propose he is too weak to survive, which one is it?”

“Whichever you prefer as long as you leave him here.”

Myrrha pondered, looking at the sleeping monkeyish creature. Nya was not completely without reason, maybe she was putting too much stock on the matriarch’s ramblings. However, the title given to her by the older female still haunted her, and if this creature could help uncover the truth behind it, she had to take the chance.

“We take him.” Myrrha states “And if he is dangerous, we just kill him. Worst case scenario we win a free snack.” She pats Satha on the shoulder.