2
The Onics
Stutki awoke with a start to distant thunder fading away. She could have sworn she had felt her body jolting out of sleep, as it does when you dream of falling. She sighed deeply to soothe herself. The next few moments of silence were filled with the soft, slow sound of her breathing as she waited for her mind to clear. Glimpsing through the crack between the wall and doorway hide covering her humble wooden cabin, dawn had started painting the black sky dark gold, dusted with streaks of ashen blue, stars fading. It was a reassuring scene. Stutki heard voices murmuring outside, unusually early for her band to wake. The Summit would rise and retreat with the sun, but their days wouldn’t typically commence this soon.
She shrugged, stretched, sat up and began her morning ritual with her band’s pattern: The Art of Focus. She always felt grateful, in the mornings, to be a member of the Power Up faction. Even more, she was proud of belonging to a band whose pattern energizes and sharpens the mind. Like a true Summit, her practical dexterity, keen eye for details and acute focus made her a master of her craft. Some would say Stutki possessed the most refined skill of her people. The other bands, far and wide, knew of her name and sought after her works, with the promise of goods at the highest quality and longevity.
Not long after she had started her morning practice, she felt interrupted by a sense of urgency as the voices outside picked up in number, volume and pace. Already feeling sufficiently focused from the Summit’s pattern, she decided to head out of her cabin to see what was happening.
Almost half of her band were awake, slowly flocking at the Summit Circle, the bonfire surrounded by benches at the center of their camp. Embers from the previous night’s fire still smoked, not yet extinguished by the morning dew. Some were standing, others were sitting, all were engaged in what looked like serious talk. As Stutki stepped closer, she sensed tension lingering in the air, like the smoke from the fire. She could make out their words,
“Did you feel it?” “Yes, it seemed far.” “It was definitely powerful.” “Should the Onics assemble?” “How quickly can we gather?”
At the edge of the throng, Stutki spotted her best friend Naino. He stood isolated, observing and listening intently. Like her, Naino was more introverted than the rest of the band. Normally grounded and calm, she had never seen him look so concerned before. She felt alarm prickling her skin as she headed straight towards him. When he reached to embrace her, she noticed fear in his eyes. “What’s going on?” She whispered.
“The Earth shook. Didn’t you feel?”
Stutki recalled the way she woke with a jolt. She thought it was just a dream.
She opened her mouth to answer him, but before she had a chance to reply, she suddenly caught sight of a large flock of ravens high above them, their caws faint, sweeping forwards from behind her. They seemed to be heading inland from the coast. Frowning, she craned her neck up. More and more birds followed - other birds, tiny birds, birds of prey, cascading and rippling across the sky, headed straight past her in a North-Easterly direction, away from the sea. She leaned slightly to the left to watch them go, past Naino’s head. This was unusual behavior.
Glancing back to her friend’s face, her body went cold.
He was frozen. His eyes were wide, his jaw had dropped. She turned around to follow his gaze, where the birds had flown from - and her legs went weak. Stutki almost fell to her knees as she took in the horizon - with no ocean. From this altitude, at this time of the morning, the sea should have been a giant body of warm, glittering honey. Now, there was nothing but miles and miles of pale, dry sand.
The band gradually began to notice their horror. Some gasped. Others screamed. All of them remembering the obscure legends passed down through generations over the campfire. Stories of ancient ancestors who endured the distant, angry shaking of Earth, followed by what can only be described as an apocalypse so deadly, one can hardly imagine it. She recalled the elders concluding the story, time and again, with absolute conviction: “Only the mountain people had a chance to survive.”
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