a mother and her ilk

“A wraith came through this place once,” Anansi said, tail tucked primly over his claws. “Or maybe the devil.”

Anansewa giggled at the drama of it all, but their father wasn’t laughing, so she stopped quickly.

Behind her, Hiaena’s soft laugh heckled in mirror to hers. That was her way. She couldn't help it, Anansewa knew, but it didn’t make it any more comforting.

“I speak the truth,” Anansi continued. “It was before any of you were even in the shell.”

There had been no preamble to the story, and it was only now that Kankas settled beside her, his soft hatchling skin warm against hers. The only warning they’d gotten of the tale was the way their father had suddenly stopped, staring out into the distance. He only did that when he was going to tell a story, but usually, he was more excited about it, she thought. Now, all he was doing was looking into the mist-laden valley, as if waiting for the grey morning to show him something.

Eidolon appeared beside the nest a moment later, while Anansewa was waiting for their father’s next words. He never seemed to make a sound when he moved, his pale skin simply unfurling into the shape of him wherever he stopped, unnoticed in his movement. 

Eidolon’s was strange skin. None of the rest of the family had it. They all had their fathers rough, sandy scales, but his was silky smooth, and glossy. Like the snake he had killed once and brought for their midday snack, the one that Anansi had ripped away from them in a fervor.

She wasn’t sure what was wrong with it. Anansi said there had been death in its teeth.

And behind them, as always, was Hiaena, lurking in her quiet way. The flock was assembled for the story, the way Anansi liked it.

“Long ago, before you were born, and soon before Eidolon and Hiaena, the pack was much smaller. It was only me, and your aunts and uncles. There were no hatchlings, no extra mouths to feed. The valley only belonged to us, and we were in a position to offer hospitality to those passing through.”

A weak beam of light pierced the overcast sky in the distance, shimmering over a mountainside on the far side of the valley. The valley had been Anansewa’s only home for as long as she’d lived, and she knew that her mother did not live here- she had left, Anansi had told her, soon after the hatching. It was not her manner to stay, and so she left her two hatchlings in their fathers charge. Anansewa didn’t mind- she’d never known a second nest-watcher-life-giver, and there were enough relatives around to not feel lonely, certainly not with Kankas at her side and her strange older siblings at her back.

But one day she would like to leave, she’d always thought. Not for good, but for an adventure, or a few. She could come back in between.

She felt Kankas’s ribs contract with a quiet, derisive snort. He could always tell what she was thinking- and right now, he knew she was musing on her future adventures. He’d always thought it was a silly thought.

“Quiet,” Anansi insisted, not looking back. He knew their attention had wavered- it always did. “Now. where was I.”

“It was an ordinary day when the devil came to visit. She brought with her two of her children, two little demons, and she did not bend even for them. They were all like wraiths, pale skin with even paler markings.”

At this, Anansewa saw Kankas cast a look over at Eidolon, who seemed unphased as always.

“They came from the north, and their road led them south, but it was the tail end of winter, and food was scarce everywhere they’d been except for our valley. All they wanted was a place to rest their weary bodies, for a few weeks, until the prey began to run again, and then they would be on their way, continuing to wherever they intended to stake a territory.”

We let them stay. It was no harm to us, they were only three mouths, and we were small in number. The extra claws were of great help when hunting, and more than made up for the lost food. They brought with them tales of the places beyond the valley- places I have no desire to see, but it was pleasant to hear of, nonetheless.”

But they were not like us. They were vicious, silent killers. The Devil’s tail was like a snake in the grass, long, thin, unnoticed until it struck you.”

Anansewa’s own eyes drifted over to Eidolon at this. His tail was coiled around their claws. She had never noticed quite how long it was.

“She would hunt her prey like a normal sharpclaw, but then, with her children called to the fray, she would use her tail to slash the eyes out of her quarries. She took pleasure in it, I think. I remember one day, she blinded a young spikeface. She watched it stumble around for hours before they put it down.”

Anansi stopped talking for a while. None of the fledglings moved, though Hiaena did resettle herself. Anansewa looked at her sister, who was curling up on the ground. Hiaena yawned, wide, showing her rows of needle-sharp teeth. Her jaws closed with a clap.

“I’d like to meet this devil,” she mused, an idle claw coming up to scratch at the feathers around her neck, another strange trait not shared by her siblings. “She sounds interesting.”

“She would gut you,” Anansi said flatly, and Anansewa blinked.

Kankas wriggled his shoulders. “I could take her on,” he sniffed. “I’ll be taller than you some day, I bet she won't stand a chance.”

“She would,” Anansi snapped. “You wouldn’t.”

They fell silent.

“We lived in reverent terror of the devil and her children for two turns of the moon,” he said finally. “Their overstayed welcome was never discussed. When they finally left, we swore to remember her. If we ever saw her ilk or likeness here again, we would not let it in this time.”

He turned to his assembled flock at last. His pale eyes fixed on Hiaena and Eidolon.

“Do you understand?”

Anansewa did not understand, and said nothing. Hiaena and Eidolon just stared back.

Anansi broke the gaze first. He only lost staring contests to those two, Anansewa thought. Everyone lost to them.

Anansi stood, and the story was over. He left for the main flock nest, probably to scrounge up a meal for himself, and left his children in his wake.

Anansewa was confused.

“I don’t get it,” she said, and Kankas straightened beside her. He didn’t get it either, but he would never admit that.

Hiaena grinned and stood, forearms on the ground as she stretched, long and lithe.

“You didn’t understand because the story wasn’t for you,” she laughed, unkindly. “It was for me and Eido, of course. The Devil is our mother.”

“What,” barked Kankas.

Anansewa turned her eyes to Eidolon. He was no trickster, even if she sometimes felt he would let her fall, if she stumbled on a cliff. He didn’t lie.

His pale head dipped, that narrow, whip-thin tail flicking.

“Not your mother,” Hiaena scoffed. “Yours was a soft-bellied thing from the east.”

At this, Kankas bristled. “Take it back!” he hissed, because if there was one thing Kankas felt was his duty, it was defending the idea of their errant nest-watcher-life-giver.

“It couldn't be all that bad,” Anansewa interjected, knowing it would only descend into a scuffle if she let it continue. “She sounds so scary- but you aren’t scary!”

It was only half of a lie. Her siblings were terrifying, but there was an unspoken Knowing that said they wouldn’t hurt her unless she gave them a reason.

Hiaena grinned. “Aren’t I?”

“Whatever,” Kankas snapped. “I still bet I could take her. Spooky or not, she’d still bleed.”

Hiaena’s laugh, high and piercing, made Anansewa wince, but thankfully nothing escalated. 

With a sigh that sounded like the death rattle, Eidolon stood. He melted back into the tall grass, slinking off to who knew where. Hiaena watched him go for a moment. Then she shrugged.

“It doesn’t change anything,” she said, then coughed a giggling laugh. “If he wanted to stop us from being like her, he would have had to have stomped our eggs. Or let a bird get us when we first hatched. There's nothing he can do now.”

Anansewa couldn’t help but feel like that was a threat.

“And I like it here well enough,” Hiaena said. “For now, at least.”

Hiaena left a few minutes after that, and it was only Anansewa and Kankas.

“I don’t think it was really a devil,” said Kankas. “I think it was just some weird sharpclaw. She probably wasn’t even that scary- Father doesn’t like how Hiaena and Eido act sometimes. It's probably just a story to keep them behaving.”

Anansewa shivered. 

“I don’t know,” she said, and thought that maybe, if she was going to explore outside the valley, if things like that were out there, maybe she would wait until she was a full grown.