“Why didn’t you let me help?”

  “You were having nightmares.”

  “But that was probably to do with the burrowers.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Dad—” she began, but he cut her off.

  “Look, Ry. I’m sorry I didn’t let you go out with the search teams. I should have, and I’m sorry, but I can’t go back and fix that, now.”

  “It’s okay, dad,” she said, then asked, “So, are we?”

  “Are we what?”

  “Going to look for mum?”

  “No, Rylie. Look, I…” He paused. He had been going to say that he didn’t think Mariam was coming back, that he’d brought Rylie out to show her something else she needed to be careful of, but he stopped.

  “I hadn’t meant to,” he managed, after a moment, and the orsovite gave a curious ripple beneath him.

  “Do you think they know?” Rylie asked, and Joaquin knew his mount hadn’t been the only one to react to his words.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “Well, Big Blue was her favorite,” Rylie told him, naming the creature he rode, then indicating her own, “And Little Blue is the first wiggle she helped to raise.”

  Wiggle. Usually the term made him smile, but not today. What Rylie was saying was true, Big and Little Blue had been the first orsovite Mariam had grown attached to. He guessed if he hadn’t been out looking for kess blooms with them, she’d have taken them on her helical hunt, and maybe things would have been different.

  “Wasn’t she looking for helicals?” It was like Rylie was reading his mind, and Joaquin pondered that for a short moment. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was sure there was something in that. Before he could isolate why it might be important, Rylie repeated her question.

  “Well, wasn’t she?”

  “Yeah, she was.”

  “Is that why you’ve never let me try to find some more?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We need them, you know.”

  He knew. Helicals were annuals. They grew rapidly from the first thaw to mid-summer, and then they bloomed. The orsovite adored their nectar, swarming over each of the thirty-foot tall tangles of vine to reach the half dozen drooping flowers that unfurled toward the end of the season.

  Every year, he watched Rylie hold her breath, as the orsovite disappeared into the centre of the purple petals, and saw her release it only when they re-emerged, swollen with nectar, and with the pollen sacks on their hindquarters stuffed full to bursting.

  He needed more of them, because he had trouble getting their pods to germinate, and had lost more seeds than the plants he’d been trying to replace.

  While Joaquin had managed some success by softening the seed pods in a mild acid bath, they were down to their last twenty or thirty plants. Come next spring, he’d have no more helicals to put in the ground, and he wondered how the orsovite would fare.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “We need to go this way.” Again, Rylie distracted him from his worries, and he glanced up to discover she’d maneuvered past him to take the lead.

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “Mum’s diary,” she answered, waving a small book, bound in a flame-red cover.

  Joaquin had forgotten he’d given it to her after they’d held the memorial. Now, he wondered if he’d regret it. He also wondered if he should have invaded Mariam’s privacy, and stolen a peek, when he had the chance, but after her disappearance, there just hadn’t seemed to be a point.

  “Hey! Wait up!” he yelled, noticing how far ahead his daughter had gone. He repeated the order a second time, and Rylie pulled her orsovite to a halt.

  “What dad?”

  “I… it’s just we’re about to go into the trees, and there are critters there that only come in autumn.”

  “What sort of critters?”

  “Well, they blend with the leaves. They’re orange and red and brown, and they have scales or fur or something that hangs off them in just the same way the leaves hang off the trees.”

  “So?”

  “So, I saw one take down a schliva.”

  “Full grown?” At least Rylie had the sense to look worried.

  “Full grown. Right out of the air. One minute the schliva was flying toward a vera bloom, and the next this critter reached right out of the trees and grabbed it.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure. I only caught a glimpse of it. It had two long forearms that folded. It took the schliva out of the air with those.”

  “And you think it was one of those that took mum?”

  Did he? To be honest Joaquin couldn’t be sure.

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you think so.”

  “Yeah, I think so,” he admitted, and was more relieved annoyed to see she didn’t believe him.

  “Okay, I’ll keep an eye out. Now, can we go?”

  “Which way?”

  Rylie led them along the main trail into the forest, not pausing until she came to a stand of vera vines.

  “Is this where you saw the whatever-it-was?”

  “No, not here. Further in.”

  “Okay. Mum left the trail here. She used the vines as a guide and says we should swing left. She’d thought she’d found a tangle that might be helicals, but she had to wait until it flowered to be sure.”

  Which is why Mariam had been so excited when she’d left that morning, Joaquin thought. She’d known the only way to tell the vera and helical vines apart was when they flowered. She’d been down to inspect their own helical tangle and come back to tell him the flowers were starting to open, and then she’d headed into the forest.

  Joaquin had almost called her back, but he still hadn’t been sure how to describe the creature, he’d thought he’d seen take the schliva, wasn’t sure he’d seen it at all, and he’d let her go without saying anything.

  Rylie guided Little Blue to the left, the terrain unfamiliar to Joaquin’s practiced eye until they reached a small stream. Something about the way the trees grew down to a natural fjord jolted his memory, and he turned his head.

  “Ry, ease back,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  She did as she was told, and glanced around, before suddenly throwing herself flat against Little Blue’s neck. Movement flashed in the trees above her head, two scythe-like appendages whipping through the space her body had been.

  Her orsovite gave a chitter of alarm, and surged forward and away. It splashed across the stream and up the opposite bank, jinking suddenly wide around the base of another tree before vanishing from sight.

  “Ry!” Joaquin shouted, and urged his mount toward the stream.

  But Big Blue refused to move. It propped, bracing two of its long multi-jointed legs against the trees ahead, and refusing all his signals to move ahead. And, ahead of them, the forest rustled, and he saw sections of canopy moving like clouds of red and orange leaves, but moving separate from the trees.

  Parts of it flowed after Little Blue and Ry, and parts of it moved uncertainly back and forth over the trail. Big Blue braced against the trees and hunched in on itself, raising one of its hind claws to press Joaquin close to its back.

  He obeyed, suddenly realizing that to follow Ry and Little Blue would have meant racing to his death. Tilting his head so he could watch the ruffled trees, he lay flat across Blue’s shoulders and waited. When an entire flurry of branches detached itself from the tree and dropped to the ground. Joaquin held his breath.

  The creature was beautiful—and terrifying. It stood on the hind two pairs of its legs, with the front pair tucked against its chest. Now that he could see it clearly, Joaquin recognized it as some form of mantid. He’d seen something similar in the catalogues from Earth, albeit on a much smaller scale.

  This creature was half the size of Big Blue, its skin a base of bronzy gold, with the leafy attachments hanging from every surface. Joaquin was surprised to see that this one’s eyes were the color of rubies touched with gold. Another flurry joined it, and then a third, and a fourth.

  Joaquin’s eyes widened as another descended to stand on the path, swaying uncertainly with the rest. He hadn’t known they hunted in packs.