For the first time in a hundred heartbeats, Qama allowed themself the luxury of a slow blink. It happened in two stages. First the left lids closed, the lashes briefly touching with more delicacy and less urgency than the antennae of two insects exploring each other before the eye was fully opened once more. The process was repeated a moment later on the right, and the mildly uncomfortable dryness previously felt in both eyes was now felt in neither. A trick Qama had invented rather than learned, it allowed uninterrupted and only slightly compromised vision. Not for an instant was the target unseen. After a hundred more heartbeats Qama might do the same again, if no other action became necessary in the meantime.
Even if a slight wind had not been making the leaves of the tree Qama was sitting on rustle lazily, and if the young antelope had not been concentrating on eating the greenest of those within easy reach, detection would have been extremely unlikely. Qama was almost motionless, breathing no more deeply than the circumstances required, on a branch twice the height of the antelope’s head and twenty paces distant, in a place where their scent was drifting away from the animal rather than towards it. A normal blink would have caused hardly any more of a disturbance than the one Qama had chosen to perform, but they always left a wide margin of safety. It was better to do this than to risk being attacked, or failing to make a kill.
In another tree on the far side of the antelope a monkey suddenly caught sight of something unspeakably awful, or thought it did, and screamed in alarm. Other monkeys joined in, and within moments a dozen of them were leaping from one branch to the next and the next. Very soon they realised that the enemy, if it existed at all and had not been conjured up by the first monkey’s too-active imagination, was no longer visible. After a decrescendo of chattering, normal life was resumed.
The monkeys were now a little way from their original positions. Qama and the antelope had disappeared entirely. As soon as the screaming started, the antelope had run away as quickly as it could. Qama immediately followed, no longer caring about making a noise since this would certainly be drowned out by the nearby commotion. As the monkeys settled down, the antelope forgot its panic and began to investigate a new source of leaves. Qama, once again cautious of being heard, took up a new position similar to the one they had chosen before.
Predator and prey were now a few paces from a small clearing. Very slowly, Qama detached a bow from their belt, took one of twenty arrows from its quiver and aimed it at the antelope. The arrow sizzled through the air, hammering – thanks to an adjustment Qama had made at the very last instant – into the trunk of a tree at a point two hand spans above where the animal had been when it was scared by the sound of impact into a new flight. Qama had eaten recently, and was in no need of another meal now. This hunt had been merely for practice, to ensure that Qama’s skills remained at the highest level and that inevitable death in the unconsciously cruel forest could be delayed for as long as possible.
Quickly but calmly, Qama climbed down their own tree and walked softly to the one in whose trunk the arrow was embedded. Pulling it out required a substantial amount of effort. The antelope would certainly be dead now if Qama had intended to strike it down. They were satisfied by this, but also pleased that the antelope was able to survive a little longer. Taking a life was acceptable only if it helped to prolong another life. There was no other justification.
A sound of rock hitting bone, then one of a body collapsing to the ground. A cheer of triumph. Qama turned and saw the so recently alert antelope lying in the clearing. Three young men, all about the same age as Qama, ran towards it, followed more slowly by a female friend. They wore Luxalian clothes but were probably visitors from the Transition; it was not impossible that anyone would have walked all the way from Luxalia for what appeared to be a casual stroll, but it seemed unlikely. The loudest of them reached the corpse first, picked up the bloodstained stone used for the senseless murder, threw it in the air and skilfully caught it before it fell back to the ground. “Yes!” he cried as he held it straight up at arm’s length. The other men shouted their approval. Ignoring them, the woman knelt silently beside the antelope and gently stroked the delicate fur of its long neck, trying to ignore the hole in its skull.
“Leave it,” said the murderer. “It’s dead.”
“It’s beautiful,” said the woman.
“It’s still dead.”
“It’s still beautiful.”
Bored with this discussion, the man turned to the one standing next to him and rubbed the rock along his cheek, leaving a smear of blood and perhaps some fragments of antelope brain. The other man expressed amused disgust, wiped off the mess with his hand and attempted to transfer it to the hair of the third, who ran away laughing. There was more play of this kind until the first man noticed he had an audience. He stopped and walked towards the still and silent figure at the edge of the clearing, stopping when he was ten paces away.
“Who are you, boy?”
“I’m not a boy.”
“You look like a boy. What’s your name?”
“I am Qama.”
“What age are you?”
“I am nineteen.”
“No you’re not.”
“I am.”
The other Transition men had now joined them. The woman stood a little way back from the others.
“He says he isn’t a boy.”
“I think he is.”
“And he says he’s nineteen. Did you ever see a nineteen year old who looked like that?”
“He must be lying.”
“I am not lying,” said Qama.
“Yes, you are.”
“Why did you kill the antelope?”
“Because it was fun.”
“Why do you think killing is fun?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? I could kill you for fun too.”
“I do not think you could.”
“Really? Do you want to find out?”
Before the Transition man realised what was happening, Qama had put another arrow in the bow and aimed it straight at him.
“Okay, okay,” said the man nervously as he backed away, raising his hands to show Qama there was nothing in them. “There’s no need for that.”
Without any change of expression, Qama slowly lowered the bow. This man was no longer in a mood to talk, so the one whose cheek had been smeared with blood took over.
“You’re not really nineteen, are you?” he asked in a kinder and less aggressive tone of voice than his companion had used.
“Yes.”
“I think you’ve lost count. If you were nineteen you would look like a man, and you really don’t. And why is your voice so high? You can’t be any more than fourteen.”
“I am not a man.”
“Then you must be a woman, but you don’t look like one of those either.”
“I am not a woman.”
At this, the first man forgot his fear and began talking again, as belligerently as before.
“You’re either a man or a woman, whatever you look like,” he said. “There’s no other choice. Everyone is male or female. Which are you?”
“Nearly everyone is male or female. There is no need to choose one or the other. I have not done so.”
“Luxal made the choice for you before you were born.”
“I do not believe in Luxal.”
“Don’t you?” asked the third man in surprise. He had never heard anybody say such a thing.
“You’re disgusting,” said the first. “You’re a freak.”
“Am I? I need to eat. I work at being able to do so. When I am neither eating nor working, I sleep. You do the same. So does everyone. I am not a freak. I am just like you.”
“You are not like me! You’re a disgusting, sexless freak.”
“I did not say I am sexless. I have a body you would consider normal.”
“A boy’s body or a woman’s body? It’s difficult to tell.”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?”
“Never mind why. Are you going to tell me what kind of body you have or are you going to make me find out for myself?”
“I am not going to tell you.”
The man hurled himself at Qama, who fell under his weight. The man began to punch and kick, but Qama, with no sense that they were at serious risk, defended calmly without attacking in return. This made it appear as if the man was winning, which encouraged his friends to join in the fight.
“Stop!” cried the woman, but in their excitement the men did not hear her. They thumped at the little body beneath them and grabbed at Qama’s clothes. There was no doubting their strength, but they were not agile, so Qama simply continued defending while waiting patiently for an escape route to appear. When it did, Qama rolled over, stood up and aimed an arrow at the pile of bodies on the ground. Now wearing only a few torn remains of their clothes, they were revealed beyond all possible argument to be at least physically female, though their short hair, boyish figure and loose clothing did not normally make this apparent.
“Go,” they said quietly. “Go now.”
The men stared up at them but did not move. With astonishing speed, Qama fired an arrow less than a pace to their right, reloaded, fired another the same distance to their left, reloaded again and aimed yet another straight at the chest of the nearest man.
“I told you to go.”
There was no emotion in Qama’s voice, but the men knew they were beaten. They stood up and walked away, turning round only when they felt they were at a safe distance to shout, “Freak!” which Qama ignored. The woman began to follow, but then stopped, turned round and stared at Qama with a look of interest and puzzlement. Qama, still aiming an arrow at the men, ignored her too.
“Perens. Let’s get out of here.”
Perens continued to stare at Qama for a moment longer, then turned and ran to catch up with the men as they headed out of the clearing on a path towards the Transition.
Chapter 1: It’s still beautiful
Chapter 2: Luxal
Chapter 3: The most interesting person
Chapter 4: Losing a leader
Chapter 5: In the palace
Chapter 6: Every part of it
Chapter 7: I live here
Chapter 8: The fish
Chapter 9: The fire in the forest
Chapter 10: Death of Salara
Chapter 11: The old man
Chapter 12: Trabiaq’s invention
Chapter 13: The farm
Chapter 14: A kind fisherman
Chapter 15: Over the horizon
Chapter 16: We will build a hut
Chapter 17: Five nights
Chapter 18: Incomplete information
Chapter 19: Perhaps for longer
Chapter 20: Strawberry pie
Chapter 21: Because they are my friend
Chapter 22: The most heroic of us all
Chapter 23: Happiness
AI image generated with Deep Dream.
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