12 Miles Below

Kres soared above the purple treeline, wings spread wide as he caught an updraft. He'd been hunting those down anywhere he could find them, the heavy machine parts on his back weighing him down. The recent events weighed just as much. It was a chance to save everything. The mites had offered a possible path out of the abyss, and they had been everything legend had known them as.

The recent events played through his mind as he scanned the forest below for any sign of the greyroamers. This large winding mountain offered good visibility on the vale near the peak, and with the infestation cleared out, they should have far more leisure time. The pack should be around here. He just had to keep an eye out for any terrain that looked like natural shelter. Greyroamers were drawn to those places like flies to fruit.

It didn't take long to spot them. Small ditches dug into the ground, covered with one fur patch for each. Tradition among them is to keep their most prized kill's fur coating as a nest to sleep on. A few were currently sleeping, while the rest were busy rolling up and rotating out.

A center slab of stone ran red with wet blood, where the carvers were busy stripping off skin and bone from what the hunters gathered up. Kres felt a little queasy at the sight. They were awfully skilled at their work, tails wagging away to a rhythm of general happiness and semi-focus. But they did eat a lot each day, several times what Kres would need for a week.

He banked left, circling lower, aiming for a treetop with clear enough branches that wouldn't get snagged on his bag. Howls and yips came from below, where he found Silverfur and others gathered around, scratching long lines on the ground with a careful paw.

Kres recognized it as a greyroamer map. Likely of the area. Small rocks dotted the area, landmarks of some kind or another, but Kres wouldn't be able to map those. They had scents rubbed on them that matched the same as the location they belonged to.

Silverfur gave a few careful nose twitches, his tail swishing back and forth. "We'll send Bluepaw, Bluepaw, and Bluepaw to scout if there's any movement. The humans were deadly, but they were only thorough when the enemy was penned. Once they're done rolling their packs and eating, they're to leave immediately."

Naming conventions still eluded Kres, he knew the three being sent were different greyroamers who were closer together as kin, but there was more than just the vocal growl to denote each individual. The Icon taught them the human workaround - keeping it all in words. Forced them to have multiple elaborate names just to be specific, and there were still the occasional naming overlap, but they generally worked it out due to how rare it happened.

Greyroamers almost all had the same name since scent, nose twitch, and growl were all intermixed to differentiate them - it was beyond annoying to deal with. At least they didn't change that name up.

Silverfur gave an annoyed huff. "It is not any one creature it infests. It is the sum of all, so long as even one rabbit remains alive with tainted blood, it will spread again. The human war golems could kill an army, but how easy would it be to escape with one rat? No, better to assume it still lives, wounded, and keep it trimmed until the Odin has completed his mission."

Kres was always impressed by greyroamers when it came to mental focus. They didn't ask many questions on what his quest had been for. All they knew was that it was a chance to defeat the infestation. And they'd come out here to fight.

But greyroamers were nomadic, if the danger here grew too much, they would simply move away. To them, they would remain up until it was time to leave. Silverfur knew that, and so he was taking steps to keep that danger level low.

Kres chose this moment to announce his presence, letting out a loud squawk. The pack turned as one, ears perked and eyes wide.

"Odin!" Silverfur barked, his tail wagging in the rhythm of amused greeting. "You've returned. How goes your task?"

No question of how long his task would take, only the current progress. Very much like them. "There is still more to discover, but I believe the humans that were sent here are part of it. The worldshapers clearly intended this in some way."

Silverfur waggled his tail to the rhythm of curiosity. As did most of the greyroamers under him. That emotion often spread like wildfire among them. "You've met them then?"

Kres fluttered down from his perch, coming to rest on a fallen log. "I've made contact with them, and I could speak their language."

Curiosity spread even further among the pack. Other greyroamers were padding closer from the outside, the entire den waking up from his crows. Even the butchers took a break, ears turning his direction.

"What were they like?" Silverfur asked. He clearly could tell they'd been friendly, since Kres and himself had survived speaking to them.

"As a people? More discordant than the Odin. There are two, and both seem to hate each other, respect each other, and grudgingly work with each other."

"They are solitary in nature then?"

"No. The two explained themselves as enemies prior, only working together to return home for now."

That got a small war howl from the pack, out of reflex. Questions started to bound everywhere, but Kres only had ears for Silverfur's question.

"Will these two help against the infestation?" He finally asked, barking down the others into silence.

"They will. I have traded favors with them." A murmur of excitement rippled through the pack. "They fought the mite fountain god, and chased him off. But while their armors and skills as warriors were formidable, the guardian was even better…" A pause came across the pack. Kres let it continue for a beat more. "...at hiding."

Annoyed gruffs and yips of laughter came out at that. Kres shook his tail feathers to the best impression he had of jest and bickering, then wagging it back to the slow rhythm of a more serious conversation. "In truth, it had planned to bleed them to death, slowly starving them off, since it could not defeat them in direct combat."

"Cowardly act for such a being." Silverfur mused. "The humans must be overwhelmingly powerful to force a god into such a strategy."

"They are. You were not exaggerating their ability to fight. And the god did not match against both of them working together. They hunted the guardian down, but it outran them." Kres said, "The god hid from their sight, but it did not bother to hide from mine. So they requested that I find their prey, that way they could kill it before it could kill them. In exchange, I found my chance and requested their assistance against the blight. They agreed."

Howls came around at that. Small yips of approval. Or laughing. Kres could never tell the nuances. A bark could mean so many different things depending on the situation. And they had a lot of different names for amusement.

He told them more of the fight he'd seen, how they moved and fought. Magic... was going to be a bit more difficult to explain, so he glossed over that part. Adding that into the story would make it seem more like a story rather than actual events being retold. Let the humans show that themselves when they met. One thing at a time.

He turned to his bag, and drew out a small silver piece with one deft snap of his beak. Perfectly shaped for jewelry decoration. Of all the pieces he'd gathered, this one looked the best. He waved it at them, forced to move his entire body given the size of the piece, "A piece of the guardian, as proof." He croaked, not wanting to drop the piece anywhere on the ground, lest it get bit and taken by one of the greyroamers. He carefully returned it to his pouch instead.

Astrid would likely have his flight feathers plucked out for having the gall to take only the good looking pieces rather than anything she could study the inner workings of - but the guardian machine had been massive. The parts that made it move and twist were so widely huge, he suspected even the humans with their golem armor couldn't carry it all with them.

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So that bird would have to just sulk and go fly around herself. If the body was still there, it was hers to do as she wished with it.

He did still get some things he suspected the Icon could use. Small circuit boards he'd had the human Keith cutaway for him. For a warrior, that human seemed to know about as many mechanical items as Astrid did. Understandable, the humans fought machines all the time according to him. Know thy enemy.

Silverfur gave him a respectful grin, "You will have a hard time sleeping with such a harsh prize. But, I am certain an Odin could figure something out."

He wasn't going to sleep with metal of course… but he might put it in his nest in a way that the light would reflect well off of it. Close enough analog to what the greyroamers did with their own prizes.

Kres gave them a quick tail waggle to the rhythm of victory. That was all he needed to say for the entire den to start baying and barking out songs.

It took a few minutes for them to settle. He returned his attention back to Silverfur. "They wait at the cave I had been studying, the one I mentioned I'd found a worldshaper structure. We can organize a more thorough cleanse of the infestation here, and they'll help us eradicate it back a few decades. It is a good time for you to meet them once more."

The greyroamer let his tongue lull out of his mouth, a sign of friendship. "I had tried to speak to them before. But… I am not an Odin. I have not learned how to speak to them yet. I look forward to having you at my side to translate this time."

"And not having an angry machine god in the area nearby, I assume." Kres said.

Silverfur gave a mild waggle of bemusement. "I fear nothing. But machines…"

They all knew the answer to that. Machines are not to be messed with. No one ever survives that. But if the humans could fight the strongest of their kind, and survive, then the rest of the machine nests in the area shouldn't be a threat.

With the important question of the blight settled, that seemed to break some kind of unworded hesitation among the pack here. Questions of all types flooded out. "Do they really stand on two legs like the legends say?" One wolf asked, head cocked to the side.

Another yipped, snapping near his ear. "Of course they do, we told you already, they ran balanced on two legs while killing the infestation. None of the party out there saw them even once put another leg down besides the hind legs."

Another gave a similar cutting yip, "Nonsense, I saw them use their front legs as springs, just once. Jumped right into the ground and sprung back up, like a startled rabbit, only far more controlled. And whipping a blade around faster than Silverfur could."

More talking came out, some claiming the humans could fly like the Odin and just kept grounded from the heavy metal they wore. Those were quickly put down, since the rumor spreaders hadn't been there to witness the fight directly. They moved gracefully on the ground, but by no means did that suggest they were flying. Kres confirmed that one himself.

If the humans could fly, they would have. And if they could, they wouldn't have needed to make the giant star and air ships they'd made in the past.

"Are they golems? Or part machine?" Another asked.

Kres gave a waggle of disapproval. "Their armor makes them look like walking statues, but there are living beings beneath."

"What do they look like under the armor?" Another wolf questioned, nose twitching with curiosity. "What color is their fur?"

Kres ruffled his feathers, considering. "They are furless." Which he knew was hard for the greyroamers to understand. "They look like molerats would." That was easier for them to understand, but he could see the mild revulsion from a few nose twitches. To imagine beings that could kill machines, looked like tiny molerats under the armor they wore.

"They do have some fur, a patch on top of their heads. Black, blond and sometimes red or orange. As they age, the fur turns white. And for the males, some have fur near the lower jaw of their faces." He paused, then immediately added "But humans weave artificial fur from their kills and wear those instead. That's how they stay warm."

The greyroamers could understand that better. Trophies worn were often part of their culture, and if they could wear the fur of their prized kills instead of just sleeping on them, they likely would have. But running with two sets of fur would burn them up far too fast.

"What do they smell like?" A smaller wolf asked from the back.

Kres gave that one a very pointed look. Silverfur took care of that with a mild paw bat at the questioner. "Odin cannot smell like we do. Kres wouldn't have an answer to that at all."

"They might smell like machines, I assume." He tried imagining it anyhow. "Their armor is made of metal, like machines are."

Other questions came at him fast, and without any rhythm. How do they smell if they're wearing a metal plate? What are their dens like? How far can they run on two legs before having to drop back down?

"You'll have to ask some of these yourself." He finally ended it, wings flapping back into place. "We've spent enough time talking, we should be off."

Silverfur was the bastion of reason for this, giving a few gruff orders for the pack to assemble and move. One gleaming eye turned back to Kres.

"That looks heavy." He said, nodding towards Kres's bag filled with machine parts.

Kres felt his feathers puff up defensively. "Why do you ask?"

"You wish to travel with us, yes?"

"...I do." Kres admitted, his wings drooping slightly. He knew what was coming.

"I assume there is no point in helping you with your bag."

"Why would I need help?" He asked, doing his best to appear non-chalant.

Silverfur wagged his tail to the rhythm of amusement. "Odin are all one of the same feather, never fails to amuse me. Very well, I can wear a harness and you can carry your loot yourself."

"I would… appreciate that." He didn't tell Silverwolf the humans had offered him the same choice before. His pride wouldn't let him give up his treasures so easily.

Around him, the greyroamers dug out their items and planned their trip. They'd be done in minutes, their kind had always been fast with such things. Especially veteran warriors such as the ones Silverfur led. There were no pups here, no den mothers or upcoming greyroamers still learning how to hunt and survive in the forest.

"You realize, if the machines are coming for their body parts, it wouldn't be any more safe in your bag than it would on the forest floor. Or if you do find a place for it in your nest, would it be any safer then?"

Kres puffed up his feathers intentionally this time. "What are you implying?"

Two other greyroamers came just then, carrying the pack's gear and supplies. This part was for Silverfur. He let them strap him up with gear and his blade, looking back up at Kres in between. "Nothing." The greyroamer said. "Nothing at all." His tail turned to the other next to him. "Get me the Odin perch as well."

They obeyed and soon Kres was riding among them, glad it didn't take that much more to convince the greyroamers to carry him.

That bag was getting very heavy, and he felt extremely conflicted about that. On one wing, the parts were invaluable, a treasure trove of knowledge and history. On the other, they were weighing him down immensely. But he couldn't bear to part with them. Not yet.

One of the older wolves, scarred from many battles, raced slightly closer to the pair. "Can they be trusted?" he asked, his voice a low rumble among the sounds of leaves and dirt being crunched under the pack's gait. "What if they turn their power against us once the infestation is dealt with?"

Kres met the wolf's gaze. "I believe they can be trusted," he said firmly. "They have no reason to deceive us, and much to gain from an alliance."

He waggled his tail feathers to the rhythm of conviction, best he could while still holding onto the chaotic perch under him. Fortunately, they'd been rational and open to negotiations, unlike the feral creatures in the wilds.

Though he was terrified of the idea that the infestation might claim the two humans for itself when he considered it. That would be apocalyptic. But they were immune due to their armor and magic.

He thought.

But what if they weren't?

It was a bioweapon built to kill humans, from what the Icon had told him directly. A fungus of some kind.

But if it had been designed for that purpose, it clearly hadn't worked. Keith and Drakonis were alive and well, along with a massive human society further beyond. The humans hadn't cured the bioweapon, they'd simply beat it down with pure might.

They should be safe then.

Kres felt himself spiral down into deeper thought while the greyroamers raced ahead.

What if the reason the humans beat the infestation all that time ago, was due to numbers? Just two humans might not be enough. Perhaps sending them into the fight may very well see them return insane.

"The Odin will be swallowed by the blight soon enough, yes?" Silverfur said, as they rode out.

He swayed with the loping gait of the greyroamer, holding onto the perch. He'd spoken of his worries to the pack leader, the worry too much for him to hold alone.

"Yes." He admitted. "Soon enough, they'll overwhelm even the Icon. Maybe not in my lifetime, but in my children's without doubt."

The wolf huffed, taking a particularly large leap over a log, the rest of the pack rushing soon after him. "Then why worry? If the humans are not strong enough to fight off the blight and succumb to it, then what has changed for you? You will still need to run, as you already do. Find a new home. And a new one after that too, if the humans are compelled by the blight to follow after."

"How far can we run?" Kres said. "Humans are very fast. Absurdly fast. And they do not tire."

Silverfur chuffed, a sound of mild amusement. "You can fly. They can't. Perhaps further out into the wildlands, you will find a large enough floating rock to settle. And how long do they live? All things die of age, even hosts infested. The Odin can outlive any threat, so long as you leave that den you are so fixated on. You are being silly friend, there are many ways to escape."

He… had a point. Kres wished he could have that sense of constant optimism. Greyroamers just didn't worry like the Odin did.

Except for Astrid. She may as well be part greyroamer. She did like to bite things just as much come to think of it.

But the Icon was too important to give up without a fight. If they were already doomed, two humans controlled by the infestation would finally force their hand in migration like all the other tribes had. Perhaps that was the goal of the worldshapers.

Who knew?

"I believe the humans will be strong enough." Silverfur said. "I've seen them wade into the center of the infestation, remember? They took scratches and bites, but so long as they remained encased in their armor, they were under no threat. They are an ancient race that survived even to this era.

They won't make mistakes against the infestation."

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