fury.
V wasn't afraid of the drawings. He loved them. The animals' simplicity of design had power and
grace, and he liked to place his own hands up against the palm prints. Indeed, it was of comfort
to know that there were those who had lived here before him. Perhaps they had had it better.
V hid the diary between two of the larger depictions of bison, in a crevice that provided an
accommodation just wide and deep enough. During the day, when all were reposed, he would
sneak behind the partition and set his eyes aglow and read until his loneliness was eased.
It was a mere year after he found them that Vishous's books were destroyed. His only joys were
burned, as he had always feared they would be. And it was no surprise by whom.
He had been feeling ill for weeks, approaching his transition, though he knew it not at the time.
Unable to sleep, he had risen and ghosted to the hide pile, settling in with a volume of fairy tales.
It was with the book in his lap that he fell asleep.
When he awoke, a pretrans was standing over him. The boy was one of the more aggressive
ones, hard of eye and wiry of body.
«How you laze whilst the rest of us work,» the boy sneered. «And is that a book in your hand?
Mayhap it should be turned in, as it keeps you from chores. I could get more for my stomach by
doing so.»
Vishous pushed his stack farther behind the hides and got to his feet, saying nothing. He would
fight for his books, just as he fought for the scraps of food to fill his belly or the castoff clothing
that covered his skin. And the pretrans before him would fight for the privilege of exposing the
books. It was always thus.
The boy came in fast, shoving V back against the cave wall. Though his head hit hard and his
breath rushed out, he struck back, slamming his opponent in the face with the book. As the other
pretrans rushed over and watched, V hit his opponent over and over again. He had been taught
to use any weapon at his disposal, but as he forced the other male to the ground, he wanted to
cry that he was using this most precious thing to hurt someone else. He had to keep going,
though. If he lost the advantage, he might well be beaten and lose the books before he could
move them to another hiding place.
At last, the other boy lay still, his face a swollen mess, his breath gurgling as V held him down by
the throat. The volume of fairy tales was dripping blood, the leather cover loose on the spine.
It was in the ragged aftermath that it happened. A strange tingling shot down V's arm and
tunneled into the hand that held his opponent to the cave floor. Then an eerie shadow was
suddenly thrown, created by a glow coining from V's palm. At once, the pretrans under him
began to thrash around, his arms and legs flapping against the stone as if his whole body were in
pain.
V let go and stared at his hand in horror.
When he looked back at the male, a vision struck like a fist, rendering V stunned and sightless. In
a hazy mirage he saw the boy's face in a stiff wind, his hair blown back, his eyes fixed on some
distant point. Behind him there were rocks of the kind found on the mountain, and sunlight shone
upon both them and the pretrans's motionless body.
Dead. The boy was dead.
The pretrans suddenly whispered. «Your eye… your eye… what has been done?»
The words came out of V's mouth before he could stop them: «Death will find you on the
mountain, and as the wind comes upon you, so shall you be carried away.»
A gasp brought V's head up. One of the females was close by, her face drawn in horror as if he
had spoken to her.
«What goes on herein?» came a booming voice.
V leaped off the pretrans so he could get back a ways from his father and keep the male in view.
The Bloodletter was standing with his breeches undone, having clearly just taken one of the
kitchen females. Which explained why he was in this part of the camp.
«What have you in your hand?» the Bloodletter demanded, stepping closer to V. «Give it unto me
this moment.»
In the face of his father's wrath, V had no choice but to proffer the book. It was snatched up with
a curse.
«You used this wisely only when you beat him with it.» Shrewd dark eyes narrowed on the
indention
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