Thanks to Li Wei’s warning, I’m just barely able to grab Zhang Jing and dodge out of his path, though it knocks her and me to the ground. The soldier swings his swords where we stood and then pauses in his escape to regard us menacingly. Before he can decide what to do next, a bronze pixiu swoops down and intercepts him, carrying him off, only his screams ringing behind him. I hurry to help Zhang Jing stand. It is unclear what place will be the safest, and then I remember Li Wei’s voice. I search in the direction it came from and see him standing over by the mines, where the majority of our people have gathered. He waves at me through the pandemonium, and, taking Zhang Jing’s hand, I begin making my way toward him.
It’s complete disorder, almost a repeat of when I was trying to cross the village’s center earlier today. At least now no one is targeting me specifically, but danger still abounds. Everyone is so concerned with saving themselves that they pay little heed to who’s in their way. The soldiers don’t hesitate to use weapons and force to clear their paths, fear making them even more desperate and brutal. The pixius are coming for them, and they know it. I hear their screams, and they are awful, heart-wrenching sounds—even though I regard these men as my enemies. It makes me wish for silence again, and I wonder how soldiers can stand to devote their lives to war. Who could live with such confusion and despair on a regular basis?
At last, Zhang Jing and I join the rest of our people standing by the mines, and Li Wei puts his arms around me. Because Zhang Jing is still clinging to me, he ends up hugging us both. We huddle together with others by the mine’s entrance and watch the scene around us. Most of the soldiers are gone, either dead or having escaped. A couple became trapped here in the clearing, and when they are spotted by pixius, their end is quick and bloody. One soldier, seeing a pixiu coming for him, chooses an alternate ending: throwing himself off the cliff.
Around me, the mood is conflicted, and I share in that mixed emotion. We are all glad to see the soldiers removed, but there is a deadly edge to the pixius’ beauty. When there are no more soldiers in sight, the pixius make a few more circling flights before turning their attention on us. They land in the center of the clearing in one great, glittering herd and approach us on foot. Li Wei’s arm is around me, and I feel him tense. Fear shines on the faces of my people and Nuan’s, and a few terrified individuals seek the safety of the mine.
I share their anxiety, looking over the approaching pixius and wondering what is to stop them from turning on us. For all I know, they saw the soldiers as the immediate threat and eliminated it before turning to easier prey.
The pixius come to a stop only a few feet away from where I stand. I hold my breath. They are so close that I can see all the multifaceted strands of fur that make up those rippling, metallic coats. Their claws glitter too—some are wet with blood. All of them have blue eyes, something the stories never mentioned. It is a clear, azure blue, like the sky they descended from. It is fitting, I decide. Those beautiful eyes watch us all solemnly now, as though they too are waiting for something.
From their midst, there is a stirring, and one pixiu steps out toward the front of the group. She—somehow, instinctively, I know this one is female—is one of the largest and has a coat of mixed silver and white strands. She shimmers like moonlight as she moves, and her beauty makes me weak in the knees. At the same time, I also experience that sensation again—that tugging in my chest that makes me feel like someone is summoning me over a great distance. It grows stronger and stronger as she approaches, until that sense of connection practically burns within me. Her eyes hold mine, beckoning. Unable to resist, I slip out of Li Wei’s arm and step forward. He signals to me in my periphery.
Fei, be careful. You’ve seen what they’re capable of. They have a taste for blood.
I nod in acknowledgment and move closer to the herd until I’m just a few feet away from the silver female. Both humans and pixius seem to be holding a collective breath, waiting to see how this drama will unfold. The silver one shifts and comes right up to me, and I hear a few gasps, as my people expect her to attack. But she doesn’t.
Instead, she kneels.
I reach out and rest my hand on the side of her face, letting out a gasp of my own as my mind is suddenly bombarded with pictures and scenes. It’s like having another sense. Images—hers, not mine—play out in my head, and I suddenly find myself witnessing memories from a time long, long ago. Pixius and humans—my ancestors—lived in harmony in these mountains. It was before the passes were blocked, and the village had access to fertile valleys and trade routes. The pixius draw strength from precious metals, and our ancestors would mine small amounts of ore as tokens of friendship to the pixius. In return, the pixius protected my ancestors from outside threats and also imparted an aura of energy and healing that prevented the toxins in the mines from causing harm.
But those serving the king of that time developed weapons capable of harming the pixius. Their armies came into the mountains, hunting the pixius both for their coats and to gain access to the rich mines. This last pixiu pride, weak and depleted, managed to elude its hunters and seek refuge in a magical hibernation within the mountain. They needed that sleep to recover their strength, even though it meant abandoning the humans they’d bonded to—humans who then became trapped and enslaved when avalanches closed the passes.
This female, alone of her pride, has sought a human she could share her dreams with—a human whose mind was as visually stimulated as the pixius’. It was she who reached out to me in my sleep, bonding to me, and that connection imparted the pixius’ healing upon me, restoring my hearing. She was the one who showed me what I must do—raise the voices of my people—in order to wake the rest of her pride and remind them of the bonds they once had to our ancestors.