She surveyed the battlefield in front of her. One of her kin was still alive, laying not far from where she stood, his breathing pained and rasping. She walked up, looked at the wound at his neck. There was no way to save him. Two firm claws thrust through his eye sockets into his brain ended his suffering. She moved on, slowly, to avoid stepping on the dead. The crunch of bones beneath her feet no longer amused her. Another survivor, this one also beyond saving. Same deal. She continued. Two more of her kin she found: one died as she was approaching, the other she had to help on the way. None of the humans still lived. Perhaps that was for the best; most of them were in pieces. A body stirred ahead of her. She titled her head, watched the headless body twitch. No, not the body. She walked over, lifted the carcass and threw it aside.
	One of them did survive. She looked down at the human. A man, by the looks of him. Injured. Broken arm, maybe broken ribs. Shallow cut by his shoulder. His nose was leaking, eyes wide in terror. She bent down, put a large hand on his chest to keep him in place. If he moved he could make his condition worse. She studied him. He wouldn't find her appearance reassuring, she knew that, and she had no way to communicate her thoughts. The speech of these humans were not something her throat could produce, even if she would have known their language. She didn't know what to do. Her kin didn't care for their young beyond a short time of nursing. They needed meat to grow strong, and to catch meat one needed to be fearless. A mother's caring touch didn't make one fearless. Yet a mother's touch might be needed her, if he was ever to trust her. She had seen that things were different among the humans. Mothers and fathers alike caring for their young, children playing without drawing blood, laughing and carefree. Weak. Weak - yes - but only for the moment. The battlefield around her showed what humans were capable of, if given enough time to grow.
	She put her hand on his broken arm, saw the pain in his face, ignored it and felt for the fracture. It would heal, even in a human. She put some pressure on his chest, felt that at least two ribs were broken. That, too, would heal. He was crying, but not spitting up blood. No internal damage, then. He was lucky. Someone else killed his attacker; he merely got caught beneath. She looked around. The legs of another human were close by. She reached out, effortlessly ripped the tough fabric of the leg-cloth with her claws. She took a few long strip and put them by his head. Perhaps he would see and understand. She reached out for a weapon lying just out of reach, possibly belonging to this human. A long, unwieldy thing, but a thing to fear nonetheless. She snapped the wooden base from the metal part with her thumb, put the piece of wood by his broken arm. She crouched down, putting her knee on his waist. Not too much weight; humans are fragile, she reminded herself. With some difficulty - her rough, large hands not meant for such delicate work - she tied the wood to his arm in the manner she had seen among the humans. It would stop him from moving his arm so it could heal, or so she thought. Humans didn't have the mental fortitude to bear the pain until it subsided - until the body was stronger for having been broken. But this would help. Probably.
	He had stopped crying. His face was still wet from both eyes and nose, but at least he was quiet, looking at her with fearful disbelief rather than pure terror. She took her knee off his body, leaned in and lifted him up. His unbroken arm started flailing, nearly hitting her eye; his legs were spasming, aiming weak kicks against her thighs. She pressed him against her, locked him in place, forced his face against hers, stared into his eyes. He went limp in her arms. Dead? No, she could feel breathing. Sleeping? Too sudden. Humans are weak to fear, she recalled, and this one must have been overpowered by it. Perhaps she should have done things differently. Perhaps moving fast, though prudent in these circumstances, hadn't been the best course of action. Perhaps she had been too quick in coming here. If she would have waited longer, studied the figures and learned what they meant first, she could have conveyed her intent and she wouldn't have scared him so. Humans used those figures to convey information when talking wasn't an option, she knew, and that's what she would have needed here. But it would be long before she understood them, and many more would have to die in the meantime. No, this was better. He might not like it, but he would learn to accept it. Humans value life - especially their own - that much was clear. And he could teach her the figures. Yes, that would speed things up.

	She made her way back toward her cave, carrying the unconscious human in her arms, making sure to take the long way around. The cliffs loomed high ahead of her, brightly lit by the sky-fire even as it had started its decent. The sand beneath her feet dragged a bit as she walked over it, but was soon replaced with firm rock. She knew she could take her time, as his wounds wouldn't kill him, and that the real danger was her kin. If they saw or smelled a human they'd come after him for sure. And this human smelled worse than what she had anticipated. Perhaps she should put him into the moving water first, have him clean himself off. If he awoke, that is. She wouldn't mind washing her body either, the smell of death still lingering around her. Yes, the stream first, then the cave. She adjusted her course, climbed the passage in the sand-colored rock to reach the fork where it lead down the other side toward the water.
	As she stepped our of the crevice the sun was already setting. During this brief moment of the day the otherwise dull world around her took on color: the air itself seemingly on fire, stretching from warm to cold as it reached across the sky, its flames licking the ground, leaving pillars of soot behind as the world was lowered into darkness. She enjoyed this time, but now it also signaled something else: she had spent too long on the battlefield. To delay was dangerous. Her kin already avoided her, and had they seen her walking among the bodies without eating they might turn hostile next they met. She was only alive because they were afraid of her. She knew this, and it saddened her. They had feared her every since she came back from that hunt, the one near the metal tree, when they finally found a way to break the false rock and enter the man-cave. There had been more humans there than they had thought, and weapons much stronger than usual. They had been unable to get past a certain wall, losing most of their pack to only four humans who were left guarding it. But even after the humans had been killed the wall remained where it was.
	A rage had burned within her then, stronger than anything she had ever felt before. When the wall wouldn't budge she had thrown herself at any other surface she could found; smashed everything she had seen. She had torn into the bodies of her kin just to feel something break under her claws. After that, one of the walls she had thrown herself against had broken, and she tumbled into a smaller man-cave, devoid of humans. This one was very different to the last, much brighter and with lots of gleaming metal. It had made her even angrier, somehow, and she wanted to destroy it all. Then the pain reached her. It was subtle, but it drew her attention and she stopped, her anger monetarily forgotten. She felt odd, suddenly aware of herself, and looked down to see the half transparent, half metal piece stuck in her foot. She tries to get rid of it, but her movements felt shaky and she couldn't quite reach it. Her vision had changed, falling away as if she was moving backwards, until the room had melted around her, replaced by strange colors and flashes of light. Her eyes lied to her and she wanted to tear them out, stop this feeling from overtaking her. But she couldn't move. Her body was still there, the small pain steadily growing within, but it didn't listen to her anymore. Slowly, every so slowly, that pain had grown to become her world. Taken over her senses, one by one, until all she could do was scream - scream, even as she now were; without a voice to bear her anguish.
	She had no idea what had happened afterward. Suddenly she woke up, every muscle in her body aching, blood seeping from multiple shallow wounds. She had look around her, seen little metal objects on the floor, the cause of her injuries as her body had thrashed around while her mind had gone blank. She had grabbed one, looked at it; analyzed it. The handle was meant for grabbing, the point and sharp edge were designed to penetrate and divide. There was thought here; someone had made this - created it to serve a purpose. The realization shook her. Why had she never seen this before? The weapons of the humans - they weren't something found in the world; they had been forged for a purpose! She could imagine the mechanics: throwing tiny stones at terrifying speeds to rip flesh and shatter bone. The sudden influx of thoughts terrified her. Her mind was filled with ideas and observations; feelings and wants; facts and fears, all jumbled together where only moments ago there had been nothing but instinct.
	She had fled. Fled! Valued her life. Like a human... The others were dead. The humans were barricaded behind their wall, refusing to come out until they knew it was safe. They were smart - and her kin weren't. Never had she felt such terror as the one that was caused by this realization. It spurred her on as she ran, snapped at her back like hungry jaws. She left the man-cave, fleeing without a goal, her body acting out of pure instinct despite her awakening. More thoughts assailed her as she escaped, thoughts of the ground she ran on; the air she breathed; the dry heat of the wasteland; the sheer cliffs ahead. It was all so much more than what she had thought. No longer just ground or not-ground; safe passing or unsure footing; warm or cold. She wanted to reach shadow, her body hot from running and from fear, and she knew why she wanted it. She wanted to drink water, find a safe place to rest, lick her wounds, sleep and recover strength. She wanted to distance herself from this day and its terrifying implications. And so she had kept running until she was too exhausted to keep thinking.
	Yet that had only been a momentary respite. The next day had dawned, the sky-fire rose as ever and she awoke, lonely and afraid. She wanted to return to her kin, but she was afraid of what they'd think of her now. She was hungry and wanted to eat, but the thought of hunting a human terrified her. What if she faced the same weapons as last night? Her kin's supremacy was no longer guaranteed. It had never been guaranteed - only assumed, in moments of hunger and rage. She had stalked this world as one of its strongest, only to realize in an instant the depths of her weaknesses. No, she had to stay away from humans. There were still beasts roaming the plains, even if the humans had culled their numbers and taken many more for themselves. She would eat of those and stay hidden. Then she would find a way to warn her kin. There had to be a way to avoid another confrontation.
	She had spent the day hunting smaller beasts, finding a certain respite in the act. Yet when the night came she knew she had to make her way home. It had been difficult, trying to imagine how her kin would react. How to convey what she had realized. The usual sounds weren't enough. Danger, food, faster... How could such simple directions ever hope to communicate her current thoughts? How could she ever hope to change the way of her kin? The hunt was in their blood. It's why they lived, why they grew strong and why only the strong mated. Without it, what was there? Was her kin already doomed without knowing it? Were the humans going to kill them all, one by one, until none remained? There were so many of them, and they always came back - no matter how many her kin hunted. And yet she had to try. There was no other way, even with these new feelings tearing at her insides. She never wanted to see another day like yesterday, never again feel such pain. Something had to change, and she was the only one capable of making it happen.

	As she reached the water's edge, the human still sleeping in her arms, she thought of what to do. She knew this place was relatively safe: humans never came here, fearing her kin; her kin only came here after hunts, and today's hunt had left no survivor. She put down the human, gently, and stepped back to look at him, and to think. The cloth would be in the way for the water, but humans needed cloth to stay warm. The heat of the day was already subsiding, and night was cold. Even in her cave. She leaned in, sniffed him. The smell was strongest around the leg-cloth. This wouldn't do - other cloth would have to be found and these discarded. She thought back to the battlefield, but it was too late now - her kin would be there, scavenging the remains. They would have to share body heat for tonight, as her kin often did. It should be enough until more cloth could be found.
	She approached him slowly, a single claw stretched out. Starting at his neck she carefully tore through the cloth, traveling down his chest until she could fully strip him of his coverings. The smell got worse as she lifted him out of the torn shreds and she kicked some sand over the pile, taking care to cover it, before carrying him over to the water as it leveled out after flowing down from the cliff above. As she lowered his limp body into the cold water he suddenly awoke. His eyes locked onto hers, the terror from before was back in full force. His muscles froze in her grip and went as stiff as those on a not-quite-fresh corpse. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and his hands were gripping her wrists as if he was afraid she'd drop him. She was amused by how his knuckles turned white from the effort. The thin not-scales of humans held a strange allure to her - an almost-beauty in its fragility, like a layer of leaves meant to hold back a rockslide. They didn't even have the fur of the weaker beasts, forced to cover themselves in cloth to protected themselves against the elements. And yet their cloth displayed something else: their knowledge of creation. Yes, that is what separated humans from her kin. That is what she wanted to learn. What she had to learn, if she was going to stop the pain and the killings.
	As she stood there, holding the human above the moving water, his feet touching the surface of it, he slowly relaxed his muscles. Whether by exhaustion or because of her inactivity, he slowly regained his breathing and his limbs went limp again. She was able to sit him down in the water, letting him go so that he could wash himself. The cold water rushed over him, but beyond an initial grimace he didn't complain. Confusion started creeping into his expression as she took a step back, mingling with the fear as his body was kept in state between rest and high tension, sitting like a child watching his mother for a sign of when to attack. She bent down, touched the water, ran her hand back and forth in it. Looking at him again, she splashed some water on her other hand, holding it up to show it dripping of her scales. She started rubbing her hands together, noticed that he winced at the sound of her claws scraping against each other, stopped.
	A moment passed in silence. He sat motionless in the water, frustration started to get to her. Finally she splashed some water on him, the cold making him jerk as it touched his skin. Yes, the cold. He had to be quick before the cold of night would overtake them. The sky-ember didn't bring any warmth and it was still some time until they would reach her cave. She splashed him again, this time putting her hand on his back where the water hit. He jumped again, more so by her touch than the cold. She could feel that his skin was rougher now, almost scale-like in some weird way. She wondered at it as she rubbed his back, bringing in new water when necessary.
	She took a step back, looked at him again, and finally he moved. Slowly, as if unaware of his actions, he started to wash himself. She jerked her head up and down, having seen humans perform this gesture to each other many times; it seemed to convey agreement or approval. It looked as if the meaning reached him, and he starts moving a bit faster and with more deliberate motions. Finally. She watch him for a while, in between glances at the sky and the darkening cliffs. After a while he was done, as clean as he was likely to get, pink skin revealed from under dirt and caked blood. Yet he remained sitting, shuddering slightly in the cold water. She lifted her arm, motioned upwards with her hand. He slowly stood up, put his hand in front of himself as if to cover up or hide away. She found this gesture amusing, wondered at it, but motioned for him to get out of the water all the same. He obeyed and she took his place, quickly washing off the dust from the day's walking.
	As she turned around he was standing there, eyes moving as tiny, scared animals looking for cover. The night was now upon them and the cold was setting in. Her thick scales would not allow it through, but his thin skin was already failing him. He was shuddering, trying his best to remain still even as his teeth were make a sound like a snake shaking its tail in warning. They would have to be quick now, and she couldn't expect him to follow where she intended to go - not without much hardship and delay. She grabbed him again, ignored his feeble protests and pressed him against her chest with one arm, making sure not to put too much pressure on his broken ribs. As the sky-ember was rising, casting its cold light on the tops of the cliffs around her, she set off toward her cave. Climbing the cliff side until reaching the cleft from which ran the path she wanted. She kept the human close, as much to keep him warm as to make sure she didn't drop him, one arm around his waist. His good arm was holding on to hers, and he struggled between leaning into her to ease his pain and leaning away, as if trying to escape. She let him do as he wanted, focusing instead on the road ahead as she made her way through the dark.