by Avi Silver
“Then say you’re Minhal.” Sohmeng shrugged. “If anyone gives you trouble, I’ve got your back. Phase-mates are supposed to stick together, right?”
Eakang lurched forward to try and hug her—which Sohmeng promptly shut down with a forearm. It was like training hatchlings with this one. Even still, they beamed at her, and the look was enough to make Sohmeng straighten up a little. There was no harm in performing extra self-assurance. Both of them needed it right now.
Soon, Polha Hiwei called for them. It had not been terribly long since Sohmeng last entered the main hall of Sodão Dangde, but the novelty hit her again all the same. The shape of the houses, the smell of the air—and now her father, reborn from the ground below.
The adults had moved the batengmun somewhere private and cleaned up the remains of their final darkened hearth. All that was left was a peculiar stain, and a sense of loss that Sohmeng was not sure would ever fully go away. Pangae and Mochaka were setting up a cooking fire while Tonão prepared fresh ingredients for dinner. Long as their journey had been, it was far from over. They would need to eat something before facing the next challenge.
Sohmeng smiled to hear her father humming as he worked with the delicacies of the mountain: overgrown armour bugs, sweet edible moss, meaty fungi from the high walls. Silently, she helped him with the ingredients, basking in the miraculous normalcy of it all. One more sit down, one more meal, and she would return this feeling to all of Ateng.
“It’s good to have you home, Dad,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“It’s good to be home, little trouble.”
Loss had changed everyone, and time had forced them to grow. Sohmeng couldn’t unbreak the Sky Bridge, but she could rebuild it stronger. She could love Ateng both for what it once was and what it could become moving forward. With a fresh fire and laughter warming the long-quiet halls of Sodão Dangde, Sohmeng believed, for the first time since she was very young, that her home could be something wonderful.
Breathe. Mind your feet.
Ahn exhaled slowly, repositioning himself. The gap between the Third Finger and Sodão Dangde was wide—not impossibly so, but enough that he had to make each practice shot count. It would be harder when the entire party was staring at him; better to perfect it in advance. This was his fourth attempt.
Don’t make your body fight to center itself.
The wind whistled in his ears, tickling his scalp with cool air. Ahn’s brow creased at the sensation. Between the wind conditions and the distance, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to open his stance or square it. He’d consult Schenn, but Ahn had always been the better archer of the two.
Doubt invites failure. Make a choice and stand by it.
He swallowed, exhaled deeply to slow his heartbeat. To invite elegance into his skill, shape mastery from acquired grace. He had done this so many times before. The blade was his most recent paramour, but his early days of Conquest had begun with the bow and the critical eye of his masters. This was not so different.
Your grip, Ahn—don’t torque the bow. Hand to your jaw, tip of the nose to the string. You know this. What, you nervous now that your sister’s watching?
His fingers twitched, releasing the arrow in a spark of tension that set it off course. The arrow struck low on Sodão Dangde, its thin rope line fluttering like a kite string.
“Relax,” he muttered to himself in Qiao Sidhur. Disapproval burned in his gut like bad wine.
Ahn crouched, tugging firmly on the rope. The arrow released easily from the mountainside, which he took as further indication of the poor quality of his shot. He knew he was just being harsh on himself; all he really needed to do was land the arrow accurately at the mouth of the cave. Then it was up to the rest of the party to do the long labour of pulling the weight of the attached bridge across the chasm and securing it inside.
The process was completely foreign to Ahn. All of the bridges he’d ever seen in Qiao Sidh were made of stone or wood, meant for crossing broad rivers. No matter how many times Tonão Sol had described it to him, it was still challenging to visualize. It was easy to imagine all the ways his small mistakes might lead to colossal failure. He pulled up the line, fishing the arrow from the open sky. His first two practice shots had landed well. There was no reason he couldn’t do it again. It would be fine, it had to be—
“Ahnschen.”
Ahn jumped at the sound of his name, quickly looking over his shoulder. “Sorry, what?”
Hei was crouched behind him, staring. They clicked at him, frowning.
“Have—have you been calling me?” he asked, cheeks burning. Practicing was just supposed to pass the time, he didn’t realize how caught up in it he’d gotten. “I’m sorry, I was lost in my thoughts, I didn’t—”
“Stop.” Hei sighed, scooting over to help him pull up the loose line. “Stop with thinking, and stop with arrow. Watching you is...makes me...” They wiggled their fingers with a frazzled growl, and Ahn laughed despite himself.
He hadn’t realized how much pressure had built in his chest until he felt it begin to loosen. Hei was probably right—he wasn’t doing anyone any favours by getting all wound up. They reeled in the rope together until Ahn had the arrow back in his hand. Another chance.
Looking over the side of the mountain, Ahn shivered to see the scope of Gãepongwei. He had never been up so high before, and while the experience had been initially disorienting—especially on the back of a rambunctious sãoni—he found that he was adjusting to the altitude with unexpected ease. Hei appeared to be handling it calmly as well, their awe given away only by the dart of their eyes across the landscape, as if they were committing it to memory.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” Ahn asked, sitting back against the side of the mountain. Enormous birds soared by, the melody of their calls splitting the vast sky.
“Beautiful,” Hei agreed. They sat beside him with a wince, poking at the bandage around their thigh. Green Bites really took a snap at them. Newfound comfort with the colony aside, it had been a relief to send the sãoni back down the mountain.
“Is your leg bothering you?” he asked.
“Small bite.” They shrugged at him, rolling their eyes. “Family.”
Ahn laughed a little, thinking of his own siblings. Their poison fans and their riding accidents. “I know the feeling.”
Up close, Ahn could see a few small scars on what was visible of Hei’s skin. Old wounds grown over, gone shiny with years to heal, bite marks from past power struggles in the colony. It was incredible that they were so fearless with the sãoni—though he supposed this was how they had learned to be. His eyes landed on their bicep: another imprint of Green Bites’ teeth and the dark line of where his own hot blade had once cut through. The claw scratch they had left on his chest that night in the rain was nothing compared to the scar he had marked them with.
Ahn leaned his head back against the mossy rock, feeling the tug of the old slash across his chest. The poets all agreed that love was the concession to be marked by another, but he did not think that had to be taken so literally anymore.
“I see up high with my grandmother.” Hei cleaned under their nails with one of their sãoni claws. “When I was being small.”
Ahn hesitated, unsure of what to say. Rarely did they offer any personal information. “Um...sãoni grandmother, or human?”
Hei’s mouth twitched in a smile. “Human. She is dead now.”
“Oh. I’m, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Long time dead,” Hei said, turning their claw over in their palm. “Long time since I see up high. Looks big.”
Their voice was slightly stilted, but Ahn couldn’t say if it was the Dulpongpa or something else. Emboldened by their unexpected openness, he asked, “Do you think you’ll come see it again, after the bridge is fixed?”
“No. What I care for is below. Eiji.”
“What about Sohmeng?”
Hei paused, considering. Ahn was growing accustomed to t
heir long silences; he only hoped that the question had not been too forward. The two of them were so rarely alone together, he still was unsure of what they felt safe sharing.
“I do not think Sohmeng stays in Ateng,” Hei finally said, eyes meeting the mountain across the great divide. “Also I do not think Sohmeng stays always with me in Eiji. Sohmeng go where Sohmeng go. Both. All.”
Ahn was amazed by the ease with which they said this. It was clear how much the two of them cared about each other. It was unthinkable to imagine them apart. “Doesn’t that trouble you?”
“No trouble, Ahnschen,” they said, amused. “Just com...compri...?” They growled in irritation, looking at him expectantly.
“Compromise?” he offered.
“Compromise.” Hei nodded, giving him a little Sãonipa chirp of gratitude. “Her choice is hers, but I not worry. Sohmeng loves me. I love Sohmeng. We compromise, make life for us. Maybe hard, but good.”
Ahn’s time in Gãepongwei had introduced him to the ever-moving, ever-changing nature of Eiji. He supposed it was only natural for Hei to have inherited some of the land’s mutability. Still, it was not something he had expected from them. He hadn’t known what to expect, what with how little the two of them had spoken. Though it shamed him to acknowledge, he had to admit the part his own bias had played in that.
Hei’s emotions ran deep, though they were not always easy for him to understand. He had accepted their private nature with little trouble, but he had not stopped to consider the breadth of their inner life. They weren’t just driven by feelings and instinct—they were thoughtful, intelligent. Brilliant, even.
Be good, Ahn, he thought to himself, frustrated by his carelessness. Arrogance. Be better. Be better than this.
Beside him, Hei hugged their arms, a small tremor going through them. Ahn started, worried that he had upset them somehow, but then realized that they were shivering.
“Oh—you’re cold, aren’t you?” He sat up, suddenly aware of the temperature difference on the mountain. It hadn’t bothered him much; he had grown up with snowy winters. But for Hei, even this slight change must have felt extreme. He looked around for a coat he knew he did not have, trying to figure out how to help. “There has to be something...”
With a little grunt, Hei inched closer to him. They stared at the space ahead, not saying a word as their sides pressed together.
Ahn bit his lip, trying not to smile. He didn’t want them to think he was making fun. After a long moment, he gingerly placed his arm around them. Hei tensed at first, but as their skin warmed with the heat of his own, they clicked quietly, their body slowly relaxing.
For a while, neither of them spoke, adjusting to one another. Ahn had no idea what Hei was thinking and did not dare to ask. For his part, it simply felt nice to hold someone.
Hei was the first to break the quiet, and with words Ahn truly did not expect: “You like Sohmeng.”
“Yes.” His throat felt very dry. “She’s my—my friend.”
Hei hummed a single laugh, shaking their head. “No, Ahnschen. Yes friend, but you have other like—big heart like. How you say last night. Faith. You have faith with Sohmeng, want Sohmeng to feel same.”
Cuddled close as they were, he wondered if Hei could feel the way his heart was pounding. This was not how he wanted this to go—if he’d had it his way, neither of them ever would have found out at all. But there was no use backtracking and trying to hide it. “Yes. I suppose I do.”
“Why you do not tell her?”
Were it not for the previous night’s conversation, the question might have sent him into a far greater panic. Instead, all he could do was be honest. “I don’t know.”
Hei’s fingers took hold of his earpiece. Ahn froze, unable to breathe. They must have seen the fear on his face, but they didn’t let go. “Him?”
“I, I don’t—”
“His?” they repeated, examining the knucklebone. Ahn could only nod. After a moment, they let go. Their voice was unexpectedly gentle. “Hard losing people.”
It was not the response he’d braced for. He rested his hand on his chest, trying to ground himself. Trying not to run too quickly from the feeling. “It is.”
“No lose Sohmeng, Ahnschen,” they said. “Not with me here.”
The matter-of-factness of their voice made him smile in spite of everything. Their devotion was something to behold. “May I ask how you knew? That I like Sohmeng, I mean?”
Hei snorted, making a ridiculous face at him. It was comically maudlin, entirely unlike anything they had ever—oh no, it was an impression. An impression of him, however exaggerated, and how he must have been looking at Sohmeng.
Well. It was official. Though he would carry no honour into the bilateral realm, it was time for Ahn to die.
“Sohmeng knows, too,” he said, feeling dazed. Hei clicked an affirmative, sounding quite pleased with his embarrassment. While he knew his anxieties were mostly a matter of culture clash, he felt the need to check in. “And you’re... you’re alright with this? That I like Sohmeng.”
Hei shrugged, chirping quietly. “I like Sohmeng. Good taste, Ahnschen. But—” They finally met his eye, looking at him with their old intensity. It was almost comforting to see such a familiar look in such a strange circumstance. “You talk to her. No more hiding. Choice together.”
Ahn nodded quickly. “Of course. I—yes, of course.”
“Sohmeng says yes? You are new mate? You be good.” Hei poked him hard in the chest, their words deadly serious. “Be good with Sohmeng. Be good with Sohmeng’s human family. Be good with sãoni. Or you leave colony. Maybe alive, maybe not.”
Ahn caught their hand in his own. They let out a low growl, but did not pull away, instead looking at him with wary curiosity. “If Sohmeng will have me, I promise I will be good to her and those she loves. Including you.”
Hei’s shoulders crept up slightly, their eyes darting over his face. Had their cheeks gone a little pink beneath their charcoal? “Good to me.”
He nodded, squeezing their hand. “Whatever you want it to mean, I will be sure to be good to you.”
Hei made a few Sãonipa noises, glancing away from him as they processed his words. Ahn stayed quiet, wanting to give them space to respond.
“...warm is good,” Hei finally muttered. “Good to me is warm.”
They tucked their body back against his, snuggling under his arm. This time, Ahn let himself smile, holding them as close as they asked. “I can do that.”
For a long time, they simply sat together, watching the colour of the sky change with the sun’s long journey to the west. Ahn loved his long conversations with Sohmeng, the way they would trip over each other’s sentences when they both got excited, but he found a sense of peace up on the mountain with Hei. Together, they sank into an easy sort of quiet, without demand or expectation. Now and then, Hei would point at something—the shape of a cloud, or a colourful bird—and Ahn would ask a brief question or two. They opened up more saka fruit, tossing the discarded skin over the side of the cliff.
At one point, Ahn realized he had started humming. He stopped, not wanting to disturb Hei, but they urged him to continue. The humming turned to singing, and the morning passed with ease into afternoon.
Then, fire.
Above the entryway to Sodão Dangde, the batengmun’s lantern glowed to life. Ahn stood quickly, smiling to see Sohmeng and the others cheering across the way. Ateng’s lanterns were not a part of Ahn’s own traditions, but he couldn’t help the pride that flooded him to see the flame restored. It was a promise, Sohmeng had told him. A promise that everyone was alright.
With a whistle from Tonão, Ahn picked up his bow. He had checked the line with Hei twice over, and examined their stretch of the Sky Bridge as best they could, looking for any damage that had come with age. They had it piled in a massive roll beside them, ready to be pulled across the way. With a final tap to Schenn for luck, Ahn set his eyes on Sodão Dangde.
He foc
used on the placement of his feet, his knees, his hips; drew his attention to his back, his arms, his breath. His knuckles were solid against his jaw, the string of the bow tickling his nose. This time, he heard no voices in his ear, not from memories of his sister or his own internal doubts. Nothing even from Schenn beyond.
Inhale. Exhale.
Behind him, a sound: Hei, clicking once in Sãonipa. Not a question, not even a reassurance—an acknowledgment. A witness. I see you. Without a single thought of how he might sound, Ahn returned the noise.
Inhale. Exhale. Feel the wind, feel your breath, guide your eyes with the arrow. Focus on feet, knees, hips, back, shoulders, arms, hands, fingertips, relax, release—
The arrow flew in a long and perfect arch, the line trailing behind it like a comet. A seeking star given flight, come down to grace them with its findings. Ahn watched it wordlessly, his heart serene despite all that was at stake.
It struck perfectly at the mouth of the cave, soundless from where Ahn stood. Sodão Dangde exploded into cheering, everyone jumping in place and hollering their praise across the chasm. Ahn lowered the bow, a sob of relief escaping him as he stared at the line. A connection made, long overdue. A second chance.
All that remained was a single step.
Well, no, that was a bit of an exaggeration—after the first step came another, then another, until the entire party made it across the full expanse of the Sky Bridge. Not to mention the rebuilding that came after that. But as Sohmeng ran her palms over the taut railings of the rope bridge before her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her entire life had led up to this breath, this heartbeat. This single step.
It had taken the work of every single person to raise and secure the bridge to Sodão Dangde. Sohmeng’s muscles were burning from effort, her stomach in excitable knots from anticipation. The ties were checked and rechecked until Tonão was satisfied, the bridge itself examined as best as it could be from a distance. It was not frayed from lack of use; the people of Ateng had long since mastered their craft.