The Last Dragon of the East

Chapter 29

29

B amboo forests are few and far between where I’m from, cleared out centuries ago to make room for sprawling rice paddies and fields of wheat. The bamboo here is excessively dense, sprouting up out of the cold ground every few feet. It’s difficult to navigate through, which I’ll admit does not aid our search. Thankfully, we have Jyn’s keen sense of smell working to our advantage.

She’s discreet, flicking her tongue out to taste the air only every few minutes. She sniffs silently, too, facing away from the huntress when she does so.

“This way,” Jyn says, tugging me… north? I dare not let go of her hand, afraid that the search party will have to look for not one, but two lost souls.

The huntress follows. Our own personal specter.

It’s unnerving. She hasn’t spoken a word since stepping into the forest with us, always making sure to stay a few arm’s lengths behind us. I’m beginning to doubt that she has any interest in finding the missing child, given how intent she seems on catching me and Jyn off guard.

“Anything?” one of the villagers calls to the group, which has now fanned out to cover more ground.

“Nothing yet!” I shout back.

All around us, the light of day slowly fades, bringing with it a chill that seems to seep into my very marrow. It’s not long before I can see my exhales rise in silver clouds, my teeth chattering despite all the layers I’m dressed in. I can only hope we find the child before the cold does.

“This is takin’ forever,” the huntress utters as she nocks an arrow to her bowstring.

“There’s no need for such a weapon,” I point out, exasperation leaking into my tone.

“Ye can never be too careful,” she says, with a pointed look in Jyn’s direction. “Ye never know what beasts lurk in the shadows.”

Irritation flickers at the nape of my neck as a protective instinct stirs within. It’s only when I feel Jyn’s hand graze my own that I remember myself. Now isn’t the time to lose control. I must play no part in confirming the huntress’s suspicions.

“Let’s try this way,” Jyn says, marching off at a brisk pace.

An eerie stillness has fallen over this section of the bamboo forest. There’s not a hint of light nor sound, including the gentle rustle of the breeze. We have traveled so far that we are completely removed from the village. The ground is soft beneath our feet, this landscape untouched by human presence.

“Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?” I ask, knowing full well that I’m already terribly turned around.

“I don’t understand,” Jyn says. “Her scent is so strong here, and yet—”

The sharp cry of a child pierces my ears, the sound so sudden and shrill that it sends a chill down my spine. The little girl cries and sniffles, hidden somewhere near.

“Mei?” I call out. “We’re here for you, little one. Let’s take you home.”

I step forward only for the huntress to yank me back by the arm.

“Wait,” she hisses, drawing her bowstring.

“What are you doing?” I snap.

“No, she’s right,” Jyn says hastily, her eyes wide with concern. “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you me—”

Before I can finish the thought, a gargantuan mass charges forth out of nowhere. I have never seen a more grotesque creature, which is truly a wonder, considering I have recently come face-to-face with a fei and a murder of three-legged crows.

It has the face of a person, but the body of a feral ox, with the slimy tongue of a snake reaching out to us in a winding curl. Its human visage is covered in all manner of warts, its skin wrinkled and rippled and pulled back awkwardly as if it’s a mere mask of flesh. When its mouth falls open, the sound it makes mimics that of a crying girl.

That was no child we heard.

The beast has lured us into a trap.

“Move!” the huntress shouts, shoving me out of the way as she lets her first arrow fly.

It screams through the air but misses its mark. Incensed, the beast snorts from its bulbous, misshapen nose, charging with murder in its eyes. It comes straight for me, its hooves digging up the earth as it runs. I turn on my heel and sprint away, leading it as far from Jyn as I’m able.

“What is this thing?” I shout over my shoulder, grabbing onto a bamboo pole and using my momentum to slingshot myself into a different direction.

“A yayu,” I hear Jyn breathe as she chases after us. “I thought they were extinct.”

“Clearly not!” Feng roars, nocking another arrow before letting it fly. This one nearly nicks me, the fletches sluicing past my cheek. Were I not so preoccupied with running for my life, I would be concerned that she was aiming at me on purpose.

No matter how hard I dash, the yayu remains well within sight, driving me deeper and deeper into the forest. My lungs burn, my legs cramp. How much longer can I keep this up? Will the huntress be able to kill this foul creature before it devours me whole? I realize exactly how much trouble I’m in when the fog rolls in, thick and gray and severely limiting my vision. I can no longer see Jyn or the huntress behind me.

I run and run and run—

And very nearly tumble over the edge of a sharp cliff. I flail my arms to keep balance, thankfully falling backward onto solid ground. My heart leaps out of my chest when I make the mistake of peering over the ledge. The drop is so long that I can’t see the bottom, the endless pit dark and unwelcoming.

I turn slowly. The yayu stares me down, stamping its front hoof as it prepares to charge. There’s no escape for me. This time, I’m on my own.

With an ear-shattering shriek that curdles my blood, the yayu runs forward at full speed. I brace myself, waiting until the very last moment before leaping out of the way. I manage to dodge, but not before its tail winds back and whips me across the stomach. The impact throws me off-kilter. To my great dismay, I tumble over the edge of the cliff.

I scream.

Or at least, I attempt to.

My voice is caught in the back of my mouth. The sensation of the fall ties my gut into impossible knots. I plummet—down, down, down—with no end in sight. The air claws at my skin, through my hair, down my lungs. I am weightless, adrift and untethered. It occurs to me, many seconds in, how much falling feels like flying. Were it not for the morbid fact that I will soon meet my painful end—bones crushed, skull caved in, flesh splashed across the earth in a wet heap—I might have enjoyed the sensation a while longer.

As the earth draws closer and closer, a great regret lances me through the heart.

I do not want to die.

Not again.

As I stare death in the face, something miraculous happens. My life flashes before my eyes. Not just this life, but all the previous ones. They hit me all at once and with great force.

As the ground comes up to meet me, I relive every single one.