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The Mountains were quiet on this early morning. The wind had yet to pick up and carry the song of ringing pickaxes striking at the earth's flesh, hopeful miners yearning for the Mountain's gifts so that they might provide for the tribe. A chorus that began in the morning and ended once the sky had gone dark. But there would be no singing this day. The world was quiet here. Only Ghosts took residence on this side of the mountain.
Light crunching of gravel started a steady rhythm, a low and slow dirge of footsteps carried on by one soul as she continued on her path. The Xaela woman carried little, save for a small pouch and the clothes on her back. A hooded cloak covered her features, though she doubted would dare come near. Altanai had only been to this place once. Once was all she needed to remember. The sun warmed her back as it started to set behind her, but there was still enough light in the day to reach her destination. Strange how much longer the journey felt when she was a child.
The change of time had erased any sign of life that would travel the mountain pass. She remembered taking this particular pass many times in the past when she was but a child. She remembered her mother's smile and kind words of encouragement, her father's steady hand as she hung on while he pulled her up a ledge she couldn't climb. A ghost of a smile appeared beneath the hood as the Ghosts walked alongside her, memories that played out in front of her eyes. The memories faded as she got closer, just past the incline.
A landslide blocked the way forward, but she didn't need to go any further. Altanai knelt at the base of the rubble, wordlessly picking up rocks and pebbles with care and stacking them. The sun's light was merely a sliver now, no longer needed. Her vision adjusted well to the dark, now that she was changed. Her hearing had improved as well, listening to soft footsteps that approached from behind. The figure that had stalked her all this way had no way of knowing that Altanai was aware of him the moment he began to follow. She continued on, undeterred by the silent guest that watched her carefully. She didn't even flinch when she heard the soft cling of metal sliding from a sheath.
"The Ghost shouldn't be here."
The figure was male. Old. One of the Ura, because no other tribe traveled this far in the mountains. This one knew her when she was young. He was there when she became a Ghost. There would be no other reason for calling her one.
"I fear the Mountains no longer, Elder." Altanai remained, still carefully plucking stones from their rest and stacking.
There was a belief with the Ura about the mountains. The Mountains gave life as well as took it away. Every life lived in debt to the Mountains. So the Ura toiled, gracefully accepting each gift so that they may trade for food, supplies, survival. In return, the Ura protected the Mountains from outsiders that would steal the gifts. Dying of old age on the Mountains was a great honor, finally being accepted and thanked by the Mountains for their service. But should the Mountains or another outside force end a life too soon, it was weakness. Altanai remembered the Elders and their claim that her parents had been weak, to be crushed by the Mountains themselves. It was a shame. They were weak, and Altanai would be a Ghost- a life the Mountains should have claimed, for it did not deserve to live.
A silence echoed in the darkness, interrupted by the flickering of a torch being lit that illuminated Altanai's backside. The two cairns were nearly complete now, her shadow framed by them. She rose and turned to face her pursuer. His face hadn't changed since she was young, save the addition of new wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. Blue-gray skin that appeared paler in the torchlight with long white hair tied back, strays that floated above chiseled forehead and cheekbones. She had never learned the Elder's names, but she knew this one that stood before her. The same abhorrence in his expression confirmed her suspicions.
"A demon, then." The glint of a dagger shone briefly as the elder took a step closer. Altanai stood still.
"You would not dare spill blood on the Mountain. I know your kind too well, Elder. You prefer to send your youth to swindle other tribes, lie and cheat your way to obtaining precious supplies. I witnessed it on my own journey here. Saw a young Oronir try to reclaim what was rightfully his, traded little more than ore fragments and lumps of coal. How the Ura have fallen, resorting to banditry. Do not back away from me, Elder. I know the shame of your tribe, and those fools' blood has already been spilled as punishment for their sin. The Mountains will not claim them. The Mountains will not claim you. For you bring shame. Your blood is weak, and your soul is forfeit.” She took a step closer while he took a step back. There was a taste of fear in the air. It was almost intoxicating, how she could smell only a sliver of it and have it be enough to spark a hunger she had been ignoring since she left the bodies in the valley to rot.
Altanai was a blur, lunging at the elder with fangs already sinking into flesh. She toppled him, feasting with a fury she had kept at bay for years, a lifetime of grief and anger finally revealing its truth. The elder's hands, too weak, tried to pull her off, only for her to grab at them blindly and squeeze until she heard the crunch of breaking bones. He screamed. Oh, how he screamed. The horror of his situation was a symphony for Altanai, drinking in his cries and the blood that sprung forth from her gnashing against his flesh. His body flailed beneath her, unable to fight and unable to escape. He thought to try turning his head to fight back with horns, until Altanai's hands came to rest on those to keep his head still. With a sharp snap the tips of the horns were broken off, causing another pained scream. She drank the body dry, the last of his noises moving from screams to cries to whimpers and finally, one final weak breath that gargled with blood.
Altanai stood up, wiping blood from her face that resulted in just smearing more from the blood on her hands. A delightful mess she had made, looking down at the corpse with eyes frozen open. She could almost swear they were starting directly at her, a final condemnation from the elder. Cleaning up the body would be a waste of time. Instead she took a spare cloth and wiped her hands, returning to the cairns. They both needed one last finishing touch.
Wordlessly, Altanai opened the pouch at her waist and pulled out its only contents. An onyx pebble, a gift from a friend before she made the journey, and a small chunk of silvergrace ore, the first she had mined on her own. For her mother, she topped the cairn with the onyx. For her father, the ore. She would like to think her mother would be happy that Altanai had friends, that she wasn't alone in the world. Her father would be proud that she could provide for herself and survive in the world. Reminiscing brought another small smile to Altanai's now blood-stained lips. She would savor that kill until the Mountains themselves were nothing but dust.
Altanai knelt once more, settling herself on her knees and bowing her head in prayer. What would she pray for? She knew her parents souls had long passed from this world, back to the Lifestream. Would she pray for herself? Forgiveness for righting a wrong made so long ago? No, she thought not. Perhaps she would just pray, but to whom? Azim? Nhaama? Oschon? Hydaelyn? She remained until the torchlight had burned out and the light of morning crept over the sky. Soundlessly, Altanai pulled her hood back over and began the journey back down the mountain, stepping over the body. No one would return to this place. That thought alone did bring some comfort.