I held my breath. It was still a long way till dusk, too early for most beasts of prey to be hunting. What could this be?
My grip on the sword hilt tightened. Cautiously, I inched closer to where the tip of the grass rustled and twitched, keeping my steps soundless. Bai Ye did the same, moving silently behind me, and when we were within reach of the thing, I slashed my blade forward, cutting through the undergrowth.
Though my sword stilled when I saw my target beneath its covers.
It was a lion cub, only a few months old, curled up in the grass like a little golden fuzzball. The slash of my sword must've caught its attention, but it didn't seem scared when it fixed its bright orange eyes on me and opened its mouth in a yawn.
It looked … too cute. My hand holding the sword lowered. "Hi there," I whispered, trying my best to sound non-threatening.
Its little ears twitched, and it opened its mouth again, letting out a soft meow.
Bai Ye heaved a sigh of relief behind me. "It's too young to see us as a threat," he said. "But don't get too close to it. The mother must be nearby and might mistake your affection for ill intentions."
He knew me too well—I had always loved fuzzy little animals since I was young, and I was most likely going to bend down and pet the cub if he didn't remind me. "I won't," I said. But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, the little thing straightened its front paws forward in a big stretch and walked up to me, rubbing its nose against my leg and purred.
"…" I looked back at Bai Ye. This really wasn't my fault.
He chuckled. "It likes you." Though the look on his face slowly grew pensive. "Autumn is late for lion cubs this young … And why is it here out of all places? Caves aren't typical locations where their prey would gather—"
As if to prove his suspicion, a low growl suddenly sounded from the dense shrubs behind us, echoing throughout the low canopy of the forest. I almost jolted, my hand snapping back onto my sword, and we turned simultaneously towards where the sound came from.
With a heavy thud of footsteps, a large beast emerged from behind the thicket. Golden fur, orange eyes. But even though I knew this must be the mother of the cub, all their similarities ended there. Whatever was in front of me might have the face of a mountain lion, but it was three times the size of a typical one, with a pair of antlers on its head and … wings on its back.
This was no lion. This was a bixie, one of the guardian beasts from ancient myths that I had only read in books before. I never knew they existed in real life.
We hadn't used any spiritual power yet. How did we attract these beings to us?
"Qing-er, stand behind me." I heard Bai Ye's sword unsheath with a shing. "Bixie is one of the strongest guardian beasts. You aren't its match quite yet."
I heeded his advice, starting to move carefully towards him while keeping my eyes on the mother beast. But just as I lifted my first step, the cub mewled and followed, rubbing its face against me and blocking my path as if it was sad to see me go.
The mother growled again and bared its teeth at me. I winced at the sight of its sharp fangs as long as my fingers. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Bai Ye raising his sword, ready to attack at any moment if the beast decided to leap.
I had no doubt that he could slay a bixie without much effort, but a different thought crossed my mind. My eyes darted to the cub, and my steps halted. If we killed the mother … what would become of the cub?
"Give me a moment," I said suddenly. I didn't need to look to see the surprise on Bai Ye's face, but when I heard no objection, I knew he was giving me the chance to do what I wanted to. Very, very slowly, I lowered my head, moving my gaze away from the mother bixie, and bent down my body low.
"We mean your child no harm," I said to it softly. I wasn't mad enough to think that a beast could understand me, but when I was little, my parents had taken me on hunting trips, and I had learned that animals could tell people's emotions from the tones of their speech and their body language. Bringing myself into a submissive position and speaking softly might help convince the mother bixie that I wasn't a threat to its cub.
I lifted my leg in the same painstakingly slow motion, and when the cub squeaked at me in protest, I didn't stop. "Go back to your mother," I coaxed.
Another sound escaped the mother beast's throat. Still low and guttural, though it no longer sounded as aggressive as before, and for a split second, I thought I understood from the tone that it was telling us to leave.
"We will leave your territory," I said. "And we won't disturb you again."
I probably was mad after all—I thought as I started inching back—to imagine that I could understand a beast. But the next thing that happened was beyond my comprehension. The mother bixie growled again, and this time, I clearly understood every word of it: "You will not find yazi's venom in my territory. Don't return, and don't get near my child ever again."
My shock was so immense that I forgot to keep my submissive gesture. I looked up, wondering if I would gaze into a pair of human eyes, but the mother had already turned back with the cub on its side, and the two of them disappeared into the shrubs.
Was what I heard real? Had I just talked to a guardian beast from the legends?
And what was that about yazi's venom?
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