The Glacian's howl dies down to a whimper, and Nyyrikki's life continues much as it had before. The ptarmigan are drawn back to the metal shards left behind from the daemon trap, but after snow covers them, they move on. And where their prey moves, so too does Nyyrikki. They track the flocks across the sky, moving between hill and vale - but always, always digging out a shelter before dark.
Except tonight. The ground kept trembling, making building a stable shelter near impossible. Worse yet, a slide had filled one of their backup rock crevices, so they were picking their way around a patrol base, trying to find somewhere to hide before the temperatures dropped any lower
The sounds of a creche of snaga echo up the rocks as they try to descend a steep escarpment, and they freeze, one foot dangling in the air, halfway to a foothold. The chattering ebbs and builds, but doesn't get any closer - so Nyyrikki dares to ease down a cramping leg to the foothold. Snow crystals squeak but the snaga noises continue at the same pitch and distance.
Undetected, for now.
The rest of the descent is just as nerve-wracking - Nyyrikki's eyes are good, but they aren't quite good enough to make out more than the high-lighted towers of the base off in the distance, even from the top of the ridge. Now, with every inch of their body straining to move stealthily to the bottom, they were incredibly stressed.
The bottom of the escarpment is splinter-sharp, and slick with a rime of ice. Nevertheless, Nyyrikki sprawls out, heaving breaths that puff bright and sparkly. Soon it will be absolutely dark, and their eyes will be less than useless. That, and there's an entire creche of snaga in their way.
Their parents had only told them once, "don't fight a daemon, child. you won't come out the winner." And given that they'd seen MTs with frankly scary weaponry go down against even half a creche? Nyyrikki took it to heart.
Slowly, painfully, they crawled over the rubble to the snow - and then shifted to a slumped over, deathclaw-like walk to wade through the knee-deep snow. As Nyyrikki rounds the corner they see the creche backlit by the fort's spotlights - they're just out of range of the moving spotlight, but what's very visible is the large daemon trap with multiple entries.
If the bussemand couldn't break into a daemon cage, then maybe that means that they can't appear inside them either. And perhaps they're too small for a snaga to crawl out of... or into. The only trouble remains in trying to reach the damned thing without getting torn to pieces.
Nyyrikki flexes their hands, and winces at the ache - apparently the MTs have been using the escarpment for target practice, and their hands throb with the pain of a thousand little cuts. Their purloined handgun will be less than useless if they can't squeeze the trigger.
They squint, peering closer at the creche of snaga. They seem to be circling something on the ground - occasionally darting in before jumping back, chattering all the while. Nyyrikki has an awful feeling that it's one of the soldiers - but since the snaga are occupied, it's as good as an opportunity as they're going to get to make a break for it.
But between them and the (relative) safety of the cage is a massive open field of driven snow.
The snaga chatter and whistle around them, but even these daemon's clever fingers and supernatural strength can't pry the solid metal sheets loose. Instead, Nyyrikki sits against freezing metal, hands over their face, breathing slow and deep to try and warm up the air. The box they're trapped in is tall, but narrow. Sized just right to keep a bussemand standing, but not quite small enough to stop an undersized human from curling up down the bottom.
The chattering picks up in pitch - and there's the sound of small bodies moving quickly over snow. Ah, Nyyrikki thinks dizzily, dawn is here. They've not slept for over a day, not eaten for three. Time moves wonkily, but they suppose that it's a while before the sound of an airship's whine cuts through the utter darkness of the cage.
Smart. Daemons may linger in deep shadows, but wait until mid-morning and even the strongest will melt away. The snaga shriek, slamming themselves against the cage walls at the scent of prey, rocking the whole construction back and forth. Human voices echo outside, and near-frozen metal shrieks as something is pulled open and then slammed closed.
"Clear!" It's the metallic buzz of a MT unit. Nyyrikki has heard it this close once before, when they still had a house. The metal noise, unbearably loud. "Clear!" Those compartments aren't clear, though. They're full of snaga. The metal noise. "Cle--argh!" Even as the snaga's death shriek echoes, there's the sound of gunfire and ragged breathing. There's a sound of something being dragged over snow.
A pause.
The metal noise. "Clear!" The cycle starts again. Eventually it works its way around to Nyyrikki, who's given up on warming their air in favour of covering their ears from the awful noise.
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pt 3
Except tonight. The ground kept trembling, making building a stable shelter near impossible. Worse yet, a slide had filled one of their backup rock crevices, so they were picking their way around a patrol base, trying to find somewhere to hide before the temperatures dropped any lower
The sounds of a creche of snaga echo up the rocks as they try to descend a steep escarpment, and they freeze, one foot dangling in the air, halfway to a foothold. The chattering ebbs and builds, but doesn't get any closer - so Nyyrikki dares to ease down a cramping leg to the foothold. Snow crystals squeak but the snaga noises continue at the same pitch and distance.
Undetected, for now.
The rest of the descent is just as nerve-wracking - Nyyrikki's eyes are good, but they aren't quite good enough to make out more than the high-lighted towers of the base off in the distance, even from the top of the ridge. Now, with every inch of their body straining to move stealthily to the bottom, they were incredibly stressed.
The bottom of the escarpment is splinter-sharp, and slick with a rime of ice. Nevertheless, Nyyrikki sprawls out, heaving breaths that puff bright and sparkly. Soon it will be absolutely dark, and their eyes will be less than useless. That, and there's an entire creche of snaga in their way.
Their parents had only told them once, "don't fight a daemon, child. you won't come out the winner." And given that they'd seen MTs with frankly scary weaponry go down against even half a creche? Nyyrikki took it to heart.
Slowly, painfully, they crawled over the rubble to the snow - and then shifted to a slumped over, deathclaw-like walk to wade through the knee-deep snow. As Nyyrikki rounds the corner they see the creche backlit by the fort's spotlights - they're just out of range of the moving spotlight, but what's very visible is the large daemon trap with multiple entries.
pt 4
Nyyrikki flexes their hands, and winces at the ache - apparently the MTs have been using the escarpment for target practice, and their hands throb with the pain of a thousand little cuts. Their purloined handgun will be less than useless if they can't squeeze the trigger.
They squint, peering closer at the creche of snaga. They seem to be circling something on the ground - occasionally darting in before jumping back, chattering all the while. Nyyrikki has an awful feeling that it's one of the soldiers - but since the snaga are occupied, it's as good as an opportunity as they're going to get to make a break for it.
But between them and the (relative) safety of the cage is a massive open field of driven snow.
Shit.
pt 5 (timeskip whee)
The chattering picks up in pitch - and there's the sound of small bodies moving quickly over snow. Ah, Nyyrikki thinks dizzily, dawn is here. They've not slept for over a day, not eaten for three. Time moves wonkily, but they suppose that it's a while before the sound of an airship's whine cuts through the utter darkness of the cage.
Smart. Daemons may linger in deep shadows, but wait until mid-morning and even the strongest will melt away. The snaga shriek, slamming themselves against the cage walls at the scent of prey, rocking the whole construction back and forth. Human voices echo outside, and near-frozen metal shrieks as something is pulled open and then slammed closed.
"Clear!" It's the metallic buzz of a MT unit. Nyyrikki has heard it this close once before, when they still had a house. The metal noise, unbearably loud. "Clear!" Those compartments aren't clear, though. They're full of snaga. The metal noise. "Cle--argh!" Even as the snaga's death shriek echoes, there's the sound of gunfire and ragged breathing. There's a sound of something being dragged over snow.
A pause.
The metal noise. "Clear!" The cycle starts again. Eventually it works its way around to Nyyrikki, who's given up on warming their air in favour of covering their ears from the awful noise.