by Taki Drake
Trey had obviously been thinking about this obstacle. When he came up to it, instead of jumping into the water, Trey flew down and picked up one of the elephant ear leaves that had been used by the otter in the first heat run. Dragging that back to the beginning of the water obstacle, Trey stuck his claws in the leaf enough to lift it and entered the stream, riding in the leaf as if it were small boat.
Dascha found yourself on her feet yelling encouragement to her friend. His intelligent selection of strategy was impressive. No one else had thought to float down this the stream. Trey had turned some of his disadvantages into advantages by this strategy. When Dascha thought about it, the lightness of his body was an advantage to floating on something down the stream, rather than trying to compete in the same obstacle by the same rules as those familiars with sturdier bodies.
Coming down to the end of the stream, Trey thankfully left the streambed and flapped over to the entry into the ground. Dascha could tell that he was worried, his crest was drooping and he had to visibly gather himself before heading underground. To Dascha’s surprise, Trey chose to walk into the tunnel rather than attempt to fly through it. Again, he made an unusual choice of strategy but one that had a lot of evaluation and intelligence behind it.
There was no visibility as to what was going on in the tunnels. All the spectators could do was wait. Dascha found yourself pacing nervously in small circles. The tension was unbearable and the group of friends were worried, terribly worried, about Trey. Dascha glanced over at the judges. They were clustered around a bowl that was set on a small table in their midst.
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Dascha’s tension kept ratcheting up. She felt like even if her nerves got just a tiny bit tighter they were going to snap. How long were they going to wait? What if he was hurt and unable to get out?
The judges ceased to huddle around the scrying bowl. They returned to their seats and focused on the exit to the tunnels. Dascha drew in a deep breath as Trey’s bedraggled body made its slow way out of the tunnels.
The firebird’s left-wing was obviously injured. It hung half open along his body and he walked with exaggerated care. He made his shaky way to the base of the next obstacle and collapsed for a short period of time. In obvious pain, he carefully preened and groomed his injured wing. Once again, Dascha was impressed by her friend. This is not a decorative, beautiful bird. Instead he showed another side of himself to everyone there. That of a fighter, someone to depend on.
He only had two more obstacles to go, but Dascha could see the exhaustion in every movement that he made. How he could keep going on, she had no idea. All she knew was that Trey was not going to quit.
When the course had been changed to eliminate the rock arch, the fifth obstacle have been changed to both an up and down over the rocky heap. Trey, with his injured wing, was looking at the horrendous jumble of sharp and jagged rocks. Without strong control over his wings, he would be walking that, something that birds were not designed to handle.
Dascha wondered why Trey didn’t simply try to smooth out the passage up and down the hill with a series of gliding hops. She knew that there was a reason, but at this point she didn’t know what it was.
Trey carefully began to pick his way up the hillside. Sometimes hopping, sometimes walking, the firebird made slow progress up the hill. The thought foremost on everyone’s mind was why the bird didn’t fly.
The answer to that was made clear with a speed that startled and frightened most of the spectators. Snapping up between the rocks were snakelike heads with glistening fangs. Arising out of the rocks as if they had lived there forever, the snakelike entities were armored and eyeless.
A murmur of surprised realization washed over the spectator group. What they had not known, because they could not see it, was that the fourth obstacle did not have the impairment. Instead, the impairment had moved to be resident in this obstacle. Trey had realized that and was acting cautiously by husbanding his energy and his capabilities.
Forcing his tired body to exert more effort Trey launched himself into the air and flew just out of reach of the snapping heads. He could not fly very far, but he was aiming for places to touch down where he would be safe.
What ensued then was something similar to what happens when water droplets are flicked on a hot griddle. Trey would come in for a short landing. If any of the heads were there snapping, he would abruptly change direction and keep flying. Forcing his damaged wing to obey him must have hurt incredibly. But he managed to get all the way up the hill. Now he needed to come downhill. There was no sign of the snapping heads on the downhill side but everyone there knew that that could be deceptive. The descent side of the obstacle did not have a specific pathway marked for. Instead, there was simply a landing point where they had to arrive.
Launching himself into the air, Trey aimed for that endpoint. Fighting against the wind that came up out of nowhere and airborne dust that made seeing difficult, he headed down the hill.
He made it. One more obstacle to go. This is the one that it almost killed the otter. Go up a tree, jump from branch to branch and end up coming down a taut rope to the end of the obstacle course. Obviously, steeling himself, Trey did not rest long but pushed on to the last part of the trial.
Into the tree without a problem. His flight was somewhat labored, but he appeared to be in control. Scooting out on the branch before jumping to the next one, Trey carefully followed each of the red-marked pathways. At home in the air, he didn’t exhibit difficulty in completing this portion of the challenge but it was obvious that he had run out of energy and that his stamina was falling rapidly.
He was at the point that there was only one more rope between him and being done. Looking at the Firebird, Dascha’s concern increased. His head was hung low and his wing wasn’t pulled back against his body at all. It hung there limply like a rag, to hurt to control. Dascha was convinced that he had overstressed the wing and it might not do him any good at all.
The marking on the guide that defined a required pathway colored the rope most of the way down. That meant that Trey would have to keep in contact with that rope as he moved down. This would be much harder than skimming along the rope. With his damaged wing, Trey didn’t have enough control to hold the rope and fly. Instead, he would have to walk down the rope using his wings only minimally for balance.
This is a very difficult thing for a bird to do even when they were energetic and healthy. Dascha knew this was going to be a major test of Trey’s abilities and his determination.
The firebird stepped out onto the rope. His useless left-wing hung down and he began to carefully sidestep down the rope. There was no wind, thankfully. Step by trembling step, Trey moved down the seemingly-endless rope. His progress was watched by the thousands of people that weighted in the spectator area of the trial.
At last, Trey came to the end of the marked red guideline. He looked at the last 3 meters of the rope and then looked down toward the finish circle, obviously choosing which strategy to implement. Apparently, his exhaustion was such that he decided it was better to try to go quickly. Doing the best he could with his left-wing, Trey pushed off of the rope heading straight for the circle.
His flight was wobbly, his navigation crooked, but Trey managed to land in the circle before he collapsed.
The spectators rose in a roar of sound that combined individual voices and congratulation from everyone. Dascha added her voice to that sound but continued to watch Trey with concern. The firebird had not moved after he landed. Only the rapid rise and fall of his little chest told Dascha that her friend was still alive.
The old storyteller approached the circle where Trey was lying and carefully reach down and lifted the exhausted and injured bird into his arms. With a nod toward the judges, the old man headed back toward the aid and repair a
rea of the trials.
Resolving to check on Trey as soon as her trial was over, Dascha set herself to watch the two candidates that were supposed to follow Trey. Dascha had not been pleased to find out that she was going to be the last candidate to run, but knew that it was a random chance. She was just going to have to live with it. At least, she would have some time to settle down before it was her turn.
That was the plan but it didn’t turn out to be the reality. The two candidates between Trey and Dascha decided to bow out after seeing what happened to Trey. The tension was too much for them and their confidence in their abilities eroded as others failed repeatedly to complete the course.
There was no penalty for dropping out of any particular trial. Candidates were expected to only come forward when they thought that they could pass. If they changed their mind, obviously they weren’t ready. The judges allowed the two candidates to drop after a simple request was made.
Chapter 15 – Running Adaptation
It was push comes to shove time. Dascha was up and she heard the tiger give permission one last time to a candidate to run the adaptability challenge. Her heart was pounding and her muscles trembling with leashed energy. She was scared, excited, and a whole bunch of other emotions that she didn’t know how to name.
The small cat could hear her friends shouting her encouragement as if they were right next to her. She took heart from them and then blocked everything out. It was only her and her objectives. Drawing a deep breath, she ran.
Moving as quickly as she could, Dascha sped her way up the first obstacle. Pausing not even for a split second, she jumped off of the branch lowest to the ground and made her way down the rocky hillside. Instead of traveling all the way on the ground like most of the other candidates had done, she chose to leap lightly from rock to rock. Many of the other candidates had been injured or wore themselves out on the descent and she had vowed not to make that same mistake.
Now it was the waterway. While she didn’t hate water, it was not her favorite medium. She never actually learned how to swim but sliding down to the stream was something she thought she could do. To borrow part of Trey’s idea, she had seen a branch that had spherical seedpods. She knew that they were light because she had seen them out walking with Zhanna. Her witch had called them Chinese lanterns or something, and she also knew that they floated in the water. Grabbing a couple of branches of those, she jumped into the water holding the branches to help her keep afloat.
Keeping her body as relaxed as possible, Dascha floated down the stream on her back. The balloon-like seedpods added just enough of buoyancy to keep her head clearly above the water. The third obstacle had been navigated with success.
Climbing out of the small pool at the bottom of the stream, she shook herself thoroughly to get rid of the excess water. That was the last thing in the world she needed to carry with her. More weight would slow her down and the uncomfortable feeling of wetness would bother her and break her attention.
Approaching the fourth obstacle Dascha saw that the hedgerow was still looking like a contained whirlwind. The sand and debris inside that space would make visibility very difficult and the wind buffeting would tend to pull her off track. Pausing briefly to consider options, Dascha noticed that there was a thick green energy thread that ran straight to the wall. Closing her eyes, she could still see the imprint of that thread through her eyelids.
It was a chance, something that might work well. She didn’t think she could get through this without a strategy. She decided to go with her instinct.
Taking a deep breath and crouching low to the ground, Dascha entered the wind barrier. The violence of the wind was everything that she had expected and more. It pulled the breath out of her body and disoriented her. It kept trying to catch portions of her body and flip her over so she dug her claws into the ground and bent even further down.
The swirling, driven debris try to make its way up her nose and inside her eyelids. Her hearing was muffled by the sound of the wind and the impact of the dirt and sand hitting her sensitive ears. Bending her head down, the small black cat focused her mind and managed to catch sight of the thread. Her closed eyelids were no barrier to being able to see it, so Dascha began to creep forward.
From the outside of the barrier, it had looked very thick. Being inside with the wind and its disorientation, it seemed like a longer distance. Doubts bubbled up in Dascha’s mind. Perhaps she had turned in the wrong direction. Perhaps she was going backward. No! I am going to do what I decided to do. Focus! I need to focus!
Clinging to her stubborn determination, Dascha pushed onward. The abrupt cessation of the wind surprised her so much that she tripped and fell. Opening her eyes through the caked-on grit, she could barely see the quiet air. Gasping and spitting, the cat cleared her mouth and nostrils of the sand and grit that have been forced into them. Licking her paws, she took time to clear her eyes.
A random thought percolated through her mind that made her pause and chortle in laughter. My mother always told me grooming was everything. Now I can actually say that she was right!
Dascha stood up and stretch slightly, taking a quick inventory of her energy levels and capabilities. She was a bit tired, but not exhausted. There been no major damage to her body and she felt ready for the next obstacle.
This one was worrisome. There was no way of knowing what was underneath in the tunnels. Trey had not come back to their group before Dascha had to take off. And none of the other candidates had made it through the tunnels. Once again, Dascha steeled herself to proceed and moving at a rapid but cautious pace started down into the warren.
The first part of the journey was not too bad. The tunnels were fairly straightforward although they did head downward. For the first hundred or so feet, there was enough light leakage that Dascha could still see. As visibility became less and the darkness rose, a feeling of being closed in started to clamp itself around Dascha. She could just imagine how difficult it would’ve been for Trey to come this way.
Every bird that Dascha knew loved the open air. The freedom to move around in the sky that was their birthright. This tunnel would’ve been his worst nightmare. It was not so bad for her, but his bravery in keeping going through the warren made Dascha vow to be equally brave when her worst moment came.
The Russian Blue familiar had not thought about the random impediment, even though it was supposed to appear and ratchet up the danger of an obstacle. She was focused on just what she was facing. That tunnel vision made her vulnerable to surprise and she was caught unaware when the course changed in an instant.
Dascha had very little warning before a crushing wall of water slammed through the warren and smashed her into the side of tunnel. There was no fighting the power of the water. It pummeled and spun her around.
She was helpless before it.
Her lungs started to burn and the desire to take a deep breath became overwhelming. Dascha refused to give into panic. Remembering a stray conversation between Zhanna and her Baba about someone who had been tossed out of their boat in a storm, the small black cat allowed the force the water to push her to the side of the tunnel and scrambled her way up toward the top surface. There was a small pocket there of air and Dascha sucked it in greedily.
I have to think! I cannot stay here because the air will go away. How can I get out of this? Dascha looked around to see what she could see. There was no light in the tunnel at this point. The sound of the water rushing around created strange echoes in the small air pocket. Dascha noted that the violence of the flowing water had toned down. Apparently, the initial release of water into the tunnel was responsible for most of the smashing. The water was calmer now but cold.
Dascha could feel the chill of the water stealing the energy out of her body and knew that she couldn’t stay there very long. She had to get moving.
Closing her eyes, Dascha stretched the rest of her senses. Her hearing was acute and she could hear the difference in the pitch of the sound when the water w
as going past her little pocket of air. She was also surprised to see a faint blue line, a thread of magic, that seemed to run through the tunnel.
Could she follow it? Could she use it as a guide to get out? Dascha didn’t know. But her alternatives were not good and she was determined to finish this course.
The small black familiar thought about the memory share lessons that she had experienced the previous day. The memory of the wolf stuck in her mind. How he had adapted as his mage got older and how his contribution had changed as his abilities changed. Perhaps that is what she needed to focus on. What did she have to work with and how could she apply it?
The ability to see the threads was part of her arsenal. Refusing to give in, refusing to just curl up and die, Dascha closed her eyes, took one last deep breath of her little pocket of air, and dove down into the water. The water was now relatively still with no current. Dascha had never learned how to swim but some instinct took over and she found her limbs moving in a bizarre way. It felt strange to her but it seemed to be propelling her through the water.
What her lungs started to burn she would listen for the odd echo in the sound that told her that there was an air pocket someplace by nearby. Three times she scrambled to find an air pocket and stopped momentarily to draw frantic breaths in each one.
She kept going. Dascha focused on a stubborn goal. She would finish this course. Nothing was going to stop her, nothing.
She was so intent on her goal that she lost some of her situational awareness. Dascha was shocked when she realized that there was a growing light around her. She put on a last burst of energy, swimming her way toward the light source. Abruptly, she was out of the water and lying on dirt. Dragging in huge gasps of fresh air, Dascha almost cried in relief. Never had breathing felt so good. Using her claws to grab the earth, Dascha dragged herself out of the tunnels. The warming touch of the sun outside of the cave mouth was like a benediction and a reaffirmation of life.
