Page 14 of Alien Hunter's Prize

Then I stepped forward slowly, ensuring my empty right hand was clearly displayed -- the universal sign of peaceful intent among all Nyxari clans across Arenix, a tradition dating back before the Great Division.

"Kin of the High Peaks," I called out, pitching my voice to carry clearly but without aggression, using the formal, archaic dialect reserved for rare inter-settlement communication.

"We come bearing the token of Kozlan, who sought aid from the Eastern Settlement. We mean no harm."

For several tense heartbeats, there was only silence, broken by the sighing of the wind through the narrow canyon. I could feel Jen's tension beside me, a low thrum of anxiety. I focused on projecting calm, a steady reassurance flowing back towards her.

Then, not one, but three figures emerged from behind the rocks, materializing from the landscape like spirits of the mountain. Aerie Kin hunters, unmistakably.

Their clothing was different from ours -- rougher weaves in muted earth tones, adorned with Shardwing feathers and small, polished bones that served as both decoration and perhaps tools or talismans.

They carried spears tipped with razor-sharp obsidian rather than the forged metal we favored in the East, and beneath their emerald skin, their golden patterns pulsed with agitated energy. Their eyes, the same startling gold as my own, were narrowed with deep suspicion.

They approached cautiously, spears held ready but not immediately leveled, their movements fluid and wary, like predators assessing potential threats.

The lead hunter, taller than the others, his face weathered by sun and wind, etched with the harsh lines of mountain life, fixedhis intense gaze on the token in my hand. He raised a hand, and a small, polished crystal he wore pulsed briefly. Moments later, two more figures emerged from the rocks further up the canyon.

When they drew close enough to verify its authenticity -- the unique carving style, the specific wood grain known only to their clan -- the tension in their postures eased fractionally, though the suspicion remained palpable in their narrowed eyes and the tight set of their jaws.

"You are from the Eastern Settlement," the lead hunter stated, his dialect archaic but understandable. His voice carried the distinctive resonant quality common to those who spend much time at high altitudes, a vibration that seemed to hum in the thin air. "Kozlan reached your people."

"Yes," I confirmed, keeping my stance non-threatening, my hands open and visible. "He recovers from his injuries under the care of our healers. He spoke of a disruption affecting the Shardwings and your people. We were sent by our Council to offer assistance, if it is welcomed."

The hunter nodded grimly, accepting this information without comment. Then his gaze, and those of his companions, shifted past me to Jen, who stood slightly behind me as instructed.

Their reaction was instantaneous and visceral. Expressions morphed from guarded suspicion to shock, then to outright alarm and hostility in the space of a single breath. Their lifelines flared beneath their skin, jagged pulses of gold signaling deep-seated fear and aggression.

"What is this creature?" the lead hunter demanded, his voice sharp, his spear tip instinctively shifting towards Jen, no longer held in a neutral position. "It is marked, but not Nyxari! An outsider! An anomaly! A bad omen!"

"Abomination!" hissed the second hunter, shorter but broader, taking a hasty step back as if Jen carried contagion, his spear held defensively across his body.

"Why is it here?" demanded the third, younger but equally hostile, moving his spear slightly, angling it towards Jen. "The old songs warn of false-marked ones bringing imbalance! Its presence defiles these sacred peaks!"

I positioned myself more fully between Jen and the hunters' spears, creating a physical barrier. My tail held rigid, angled slightly downward—a clear Nyxari signal of defensive readiness these strangers should be able to read, no matter their clan. My protective instincts flared hot and sharp.

"She is no abomination," I stated firmly, my voice ringing with conviction that surprised even myself, holding the lead hunter's hostile gaze.

"She is human -- one of the sky-fallen people who arrived on Arenix recently. Her markings appeared after her arrival, a result of Arenix's energies interacting with her physiology, not a corruption." I needed them to understand this crucial difference.

"They grant her unique perception. She hears the mountain's voice, the Shardwings' distress, in ways even your tenders might not."

My words, invoking the mountain's voice and referencing ancient resonances, seemed to give them pause, tapping into their own deep belief systems.

They exchanged uncertain glances, their ingrained hostility warring with generations of reverence for the mountain's mysteries. The concept of 'sky-fallen' people was likely as alien to them as Jen herself, challenging their understanding of the world.

"The mountain accepts or rejects," I pressed, deliberately using their own logic, their own framework. "She has walked these paths, navigated the disruptions that guard your territory,disruptions that likely stem from the very imbalance affecting your Shardwings. Has the mountain rejected her? Has she fallen? She stands before you, unharmed."

This clearly struck a chord. The spears lowered slightly, though the suspicion in their eyes remained, deeply ingrained.

They were warriors, protectors of their isolated home for countless generations, and ingrained caution warred with ancient protocols of hospitality and the undeniable evidence of our safe passage through territory they knew to be dangerous.

Before the lead hunter could formulate a response, a small group of Aerie Kin children, drawn by the commotion or perhaps simply by insatiable curiosity, approached cautiously from a side path hidden among the rocks.

Their large golden eyes, replicas of their parents', were wide with wonder and a distinct lack of ingrained prejudice as they stared openly at Jen.

"Why is your skin that color?" one small female child asked bluntly, pointing a finger directly at Jen's face. Her simple hide wrap was adorned with tiny, iridescent Shardwing feathers, marking her as the child of a tender.

"Where is your tail?" asked a slightly older boy, circling boldly behind Jen, crouching low as if expecting to find the missing appendage tucked away somewhere. "Did it break off in the fall from the sky?"

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