The Princes, Book III, Unknown Chapter [Misskef] “What is he?” “He is different than the Gods that came before.” “He is large, but has the features of a boy.” “Perhaps a Godling.” “He came in a column of fire, is he the Sun God’s child?” “You watched with me during the night, he was unable to make fire though he tried for hours. I would think the Sun God’s child would be able to produce fire.” “He held his arms up to the moon as a child would to a mother, perhaps he is the Moon Goddesses son and lost, begging for his mother to find him.” “That would make sense; he seems to be blind in the light of day.” “Yes, he is unaware of the Great Tooth one hunting him.” “There is nothing we can do to help him, the beast is nearly on him now.” The two hunters lay on the edge of the cliff and watched the unusually large boy God below. Everyone had seen the flame that brought him, and then the hunters of the tribe had watched from hiding as the strange Godling staggered about as one just born. Prince Mischief stumbled over a rock and fell to one knee, his hand held over his eyes. The yellow sun of this solar system was blinding in contrast with the dim red giant of the Demonian solar system or the distant blue dwarf of the Kitsune home world. It had been a mistake to try and explore during the day, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. He had enough food and water in the escape pod to last for years; he shouldn’t have wandered away from it. A twig snapped, barely audible even for his ears, he spun and something descended, a blur of movement in the blinding light, and the weight of it struck him and he was pushed down to the ground. He heard a growl… a beast? Something attacking him? There were no wild animals on Kitsune, having become extinct countless thousands of years ago. Something bit into his shoulder and if not for the unusual crystalline cell structure of his Demonian heritage, he would have died right there. Mischief yelled in pain from the crushing bite and drove a fist up into the animals jaw. The creature’s head jerked back from the onslaught, not expecting what looked like one of humans it had hunted before to be capable of inflicting pain. The beast, a Smilodon, later in history to be nicknamed the Saber Tooth Tiger, raked it’s claws along the prey in an attempt to rip the throat and stop the pain this two-legged creature was delivering. Mischief felt the claws dig into his arm and penetrate the skin of his forearm and if not already blind from the punishing yellow sun, the pain would have surely blinded him. He punched at the attacking beast and then in a moment while the sun was blocked by the beast, saw it’s massive head and the two fangs as large around as his own arms. Mischief grabbed for one of the fangs and twisted, the beast’s head followed and with a sickening crack the fang off at it’s base. Mischief pushed with his feet and the creature was off him, roaring in pain. The beast shook it’s head, this fight was more than it had bargained for and jumped away to flee from this prey that was not prey. “I have never seen anything like that before.” “He is injured, his arm is bleeding.” “It takes eight hunters to face the Great Tooth, and even then we often lose one doing so.” “Then we have learned the strength of the godling is that of eight full grown men.” “I do not think we have, he fought that creature while robbed of his sight by the Sun God, in the night under the light of his mother he may be even stronger.” “Strong, yes, wise, no.” “I agree, he moves about like a child that knows nothing.” “How long can he survive like this without the protection of his mother?” “What do you want to do?” “What terrors would the Goddess bring upon us in the night if she discovers we could have protected her child while he was lost and did not?” The two hunters rose from their place where they watched and began to make their way down the lose rocks to the base of the cliff. The younger man followed the older man, the leader of the tribe that lived in a cave not too far in distance from here. The older man was not his true father, but since coming here with his mate, the older man had been as a father. The ground was still wet from melting snows, only a few weeks into the new season some snow still remained sheltered against the melt in the shadow of the cliff. Mischief kept his eyes shielded and headed towards the base of the cliff he had seen, he needed to get out of this blinding light. The temperature fell abruptly as he passed into the shadow of the cliff, he had seen snow on Kitsune before, but the chill of it was painful on his Demonian skin. Only his Kitsune heritage had made the trip to see snow with his father and brother made the frozen water bearable. Mischief laughed to himself thinking of his brother wrapped in a thermal suit while they had experienced that first snow. Malice had not liked the snow at all and swore he could still feel the chill through his thermal suit. Mischief was wearing a lighter version of the thermal suit right now and keyed the heat up slightly. It was fortunate that both boys always wore the light thermal suit while on board the Battle Carrier. The ship was always cold and the suits gave them enough warmth not to stand with their teeth chattering all day. Now, the light suit he wore under his garments may very well be the only thing to keep him alive if the snow fell here. He had been so absorbed in thought he had not seen them and nearly walked right into the men standing in front of him. Mischief panicked and trans-jumped back thirty-feet, the two men didn’t move, but they did speak to each other. The language sounded simple, one and two syllables, he could decipher the language easily enough with a week of observation. “Stay still,” said the older man. “We’ve seen him do that once before.” “I think it must be a child god’s defense when frightened,” replied the younger hunter. “The other Gods did not do that.” “Yes, he is a being of immense power, but still just a child lost in a place he doesn’t understand,” said the older man. “Any other tribe would have attacked him or run away,” replied the younger hunter. “We have seen the Gods before and they did not harm us,” reminded the older man. The younger hunter looked up at the sky and wondered what the land of the Gods must be like. Do the godling children play and dance among the stars? The young man had always felt a connection to the stars, their mystery and their beauty, as they hang from the sky. He had noticed patterns in the stars and imagined he could see bears and even a Great Tooth running across the night. Mischief could see better in the shadow of the cliff and carefully observed the two humanoid creatures in front of him. They stood on two legs, and had arms, eyes, though smaller than his, and they dressed in something hairy. Both the men held a long wooden spear but kept the tip pointed in the air and the butt of the spear resting on the ground. Mischief wasn’t frightened of a spear; he had spent many hours practicing with the Carinian Trident in its many configurations, the spear configuration being only one. But these two men did nothing aggressive and he decided to approach and try communicating with the two natives. The older man waited patiently with the younger hunter beside him. The child godling approached them and stopped… the older man thought the godling was judging the length his spear and staying just far enough away to stay out of its reach. “Garn,” the older man said and pointed at his own chest. The godling pointed at himself and said, “Miisscheef.” Garn tried to pronounce the name but the odd word stumbled over his tongue, “Meeseef?” The godling shook his head and tried again. “Meekef?” repeated Garn. Mischief gestured no and tried again. “Miskeef,” Garn tried to pronounce the name. The godling was clearly frustrated and slumped his shoulders, sighing, and then smiled and pointed at himself again. “Zam,” said the Godling. The older man easily pronounced this word. Mischief realized these people’s language was still too simple for them to comprehend complicated words, but the one syllable name was within their ability. And it was his name, sort of. What harm could it do to use his make-believe super hero name? Zam saw the younger humanoid become excited and pointed at his chest and gave his name. “Nam,” said the younger humanoid. “Nam?” asked Zam. Well, it did make some sense, thought Zam, how many combinations of one syllable names could be available for these primordial humanoids. “Nam… Nam,” the younger one nodded his head. Zam looked closer at the younger of the two, the one that called himself Nam. The young hunter couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty years old, maybe younger, and his hairy clothing was different than the older one. Zam held his hand out and walked towards the younger humanoid, his curiosity was getting the better of him. What was this hairy clothing he wore? Zam had never seen anything like it before. Nam became nervous but Garn laid a hand on his shoulder and he let the godling approach, though having a celestial being so close was making his knees feel weak. The godling touched his fur outer garment he wore over the buckskin shirt. The godling stroked the fur curiously; had he never seen fur before? Then disaster struck. Zam stroked the fur trying to figure out what the hairy cloak was made from, then he realized and trans-jumped away. The hairy cloak was the skin and fur of a dead animal. Zam gagged and came out of the trans-jump throwing up; animals had not been used for clothing in thousands of years and the thought of wearing a dead creature’s skin was too much. Zam ran away into the blinding mid-morning sun, he had to get away from those cannibals. “What did I do?” asked Nam. “I am thinking on it,” said Garn. “He was fine until he touched your cloak, then he became upset.” “My cloak is made from a wolf’s hide,” said Nam. “Do you think the wolf is sacred among the Gods?” “I do not know,” said Garn, “but we must follow him or suffer the wrath of his mother, the Moon Goddess.” Zam ran and stumbled, he could barely see, the sun was too bright and only became brighter as the day progressed. He looked around for a place to shelter from the brutal yellow sun, but everything was desert and rocky hills. Was this entire planet a desert? He needed to find his way back to the escape pod; he would be safe in there. Finding the pod again was more difficult than it seemed, he had wandered too far and wasn’t sure of the direction. The sun grew brighter and he had no choice but curl up on the ground and try to cover his eyes. How did these humanoids survive on this barren world? None of the planets in the Empire had a sun so bright; he was the result of thousands of years of specialized breeding and genetic manipulation to produce the perfect humanoid, but the scientists and Hatching Mothers hadn’t thought to give him eyes that could withstand such a bright environment. Zam lay in the dirt shielding his head with his arms when a shadow passed over him and he looked up. The two natives had followed him and now held that cursed skin of a dead animal over him to block the sun. Zam closed his eyes and covered his face so not only to not see the animal skin, but also to hold himself from gagging again. He was helpless on this world and was going to die. Zam gave up; there was nothing he could do. The two hunters held the fur over him until night, the relief from the sun easing the growing headache from behind his eyes. He vowed he wouldn’t ever leave the safety of his escape pod again, if he ever found it. The moon was bright and round, only one moon, how odd that this planet should only have one moon. The older man said something and motion for him to come over. Were they going to take his skin now and wear it? Zam edged over and watched, the man was kneeling on the ground clicking two rocks together. Sparks flew from the two rocks and a small flame licked up from the timber the man was lighting. Fire. Zam almost laughed to himself. He had tried to light a fire the night before and failed miserably at it. All the tools he needed to survive were in the escape pod and he hadn’t thought to take any of them with him when he had set out to explore. The fire grew and the two men laid their furs out around the fire and… Zam rushed off into the dark to throw up again. The older man had produced a dead snake and was now cooking it over the fire. Nothing had prepared Zam for survival on a primordial world, he felt even sicker as the smell of the burning snake reached his nose. Zam walked a short distance away and looked up at the night sky. “I’m here father!” screamed Zam. “Find me, please.” The two hunters split the snake and ate their dinner while watching the godling cry to the heavens. “Is he crying for his mother?” asked Nam. “I believe so,” replied Garn. “He will not eat, will he?” asked Name. “No, not yet,” said Garn. “He may be a godling, but I think now they have limit to even their power, he will grow hungry in time and eat.” “Can his mother not see him here crying?” asked Nam. “I have given that some thought,” said Garn. “When a hunter reaches his thirteenth season he must go away from the tribe for a month to prove he is worthy.” “You think the Goddess has sent him here to test his worthiness as a God?” asked Nam. “I think that very thing, and he is failing,” said Garn. “I also think she put him here in front of us so that we may gain favor with her by giving him guidance, we have been chosen, my son.” “What do you think he is the God of?” asked Nam. “That name he told us that I could not say, it must be his God name, but I am not so sure he is a God, or godling, now,” said Garn. “What then?” asked Nam. “A God is something like the Moon, or the Sun, but he is none of those. He can be in one place, and then another, but he has limits, as we saw when he was injured fighting Great Tooth. And emotions, the Gods do not have emotion, they are forever one thing; the Sun God is warmth, and the Moon Goddesses is night; but this child cries with grief. I do believe he is the Moon Goddesses child, but I believe he may be a Spirit.” “Like the Horse Spirit, or the Wolf Spirit?” asked Nam. “Yes, that name he said, I think he is the Spirit of Misskef, whatever that may be.” “You are wise, father,” said Nam. “My brother was the Crow Shaman of our tribe, he died long before you came to us, we used to have long discussions about the Gods and the Spirits,” said Garn. Zam sat on the little hill and watched the two hunters talking between themselves and imagined they were probably discussing the best way to cook him for breakfast. But there was little choices and he didn’t want to sleep alone in the dark. Zam stood and walked back to the campfire and lay down. The night was cool and he reached into the fire and grabbed one of the burning embers and cuddled it close for warmth. The two hunters watched, wide eyed, as the little Spirit drifted off to sleep with the flames licking at his face. Garn wondered which God was father to this Spirit that fire had no other effect against his flesh than to provide comfort and warmth while he slept.