Dawn of Stillness - A Zio story

Posted on Thu Jan 15th, 2026 @ 4:46pm by Patin
Edited on on Thu Jan 15th, 2026 @ 4:47pm

1,178 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Character Development
Location: Bajor

Dawn did not arrive all at once in the middle-southern jungles of Bajor. It seeped in, cautious and low, like something unsure whether it was welcome. The fog clung to the ground as if it had roots. Leaves held their breath. Insects finished their night songs one by one, as though counting themselves out.

Zio was awake before any of it changed.

She sat on a stone at the edge of her camp, rifle resting across her knees, eyes half-lidded not from sleep but from listening. The prosthetic leg was already locked into its morning calibration, the faint internal resistance familiar as her own pulse. She adjusted the straps once, not because they were loose, but because ritual mattered. It reminded her that everything worked because she made it work.

The jungle did not care about rituals. It cared about patterns.

She breathed in through her nose, slow, controlled, and counted the spaces between sounds. A leaf drip. A distant bird correcting its pitch. The almost-there rustle of something heavier moving upslope and then stopping. Nothing alarmed her. Nothing surprised her. Surprise was what happened to people who believed peace stayed once it arrived.

Behind her, a branch shifted under careful weight.

Zio did not turn.

Rhenai stepped out of the fog first, compound bow already strung, her posture alert but tight. She had her mother’s shoulders and her father’s habit of leaning forward when thinking. At nineteen, she carried confidence the way some people carried knives, visible, ready, and occasionally dangerous to the one holding it.

Tovan followed more quietly. He always did. His plasma hatchet was secured at his side, powered down but warm from being handled too often. His steps were measured, softer than necessary, his gaze moving not where danger was likely but where it could be. At fifteen, fear still lived close to the surface of him, but it had learned how to keep its voice low.

Zio clocked all of it without looking.

They’re awake early enough, she thought. That’s something.

She rose, smooth and economical, the prosthetic compensating without complaint. The stone was left as it was. Nothing here was marked as owned.

“Today,” she said quietly, “we hunt.”

Rhenai’s grip tightened on the bow. Tovan’s shoulders eased a fraction.

Zio turned then, her eyes moving between them, measuring. Not love. Not worry. Measurement came first. Love could wait until they were safe.

“We’re not chasing hunger,” she continued. “We’re chasing stillness.”

Rhenai frowned slightly but said nothing. Tovan nodded once, already listening for what wasn’t being said.

They moved into the jungle single file, Zio leading, not because she needed to but because first steps set tone. The undergrowth thickened quickly. Broad leaves brushed against their clothes, releasing sharp green scents and damp earth. Zio adjusted her gait subtly, letting the prosthetic leg take the heavier load on descents, easing pressure on the intact one. The children watched her feet more than her hands.

Good, she noted. Watch what keeps you alive.

They reached a rise overlooking a shallow game trail etched into the mud. The tracks were fresh, wide hooves with a drag on the outer edge.

“Kava’tel,” Zio murmured.

Rhenai’s eyes lit. She had studied these. Everyone had. The grazer that pretended at peace until it wasn’t. Thick muscle, short temper, and a habit of charging what startled it.

Zio knelt, running two fingers just above the track, never touching.

“Wind?” she asked.

Rhenai lifted her chin, closed her eyes for half a second. “From the east. Slight.”

Zio nodded. “Again.”

Rhenai tried again, longer this time. “Shifting. Downward.”

Zio said nothing. She shifted her gaze to Tovan.

“From the roots up,” he said quietly. “It’s rolling.”

Zio allowed herself a thin smile.

They moved off-trail, Zio placing each step with care, the children following. The jungle grew quieter as they advanced, the way it always did when something large was nearby. The Kava’tel grazed ahead, half-hidden by brush, its thick hide dappled with early light. It tore at leaves lazily, unaware.

Zio raised a fist. They froze.

She slid back beside Rhenai, adjusted the girl’s stance with two fingers at the elbow and one at the hip. Rhenai stiffened instinctively.

“Relax,” Zio whispered. “You’re fighting yourself.”

She leaned closer, her voice barely air.

“Your breath is your loyalty,” she said. “Your aim is your truth.”

Rhenai swallowed, nodded once. She drew the bow slowly, the compound pulleys whispering. Her breath hitched.

Zio placed two fingers lightly against Rhenai’s back, just below the shoulder blade.

Breathe with the jungle, she thought, not aloud. It won’t rush you.

The Kava’tel lifted its head suddenly. Its ears flicked. Its nostrils flared.

Zio’s hand tightened slightly on Rhenai’s shoulder.

Wait.

The animal stomped once, testing the ground. Its muscles coiled.

Rhenai’s draw wavered.

Zio felt it before she saw it, the moment panic reached for control.

“Hold,” Zio breathed.

The Kava’tel charged.

The ground shook. Leaves exploded outward. The sound was enormous, sudden, violent.

Zio did not move.

Rhenai nearly released. Nearly.

Tovan stepped forward, plasma hatchet humming to life with a low thrum that vibrated through the air. He stopped himself an instant before breaking cover.

Zio’s rifle came up smoothly.

She fired once.

The shot cracked through the jungle, sharp and final. The Kava’tel dropped mid-stride, momentum carrying it forward before gravity claimed the rest.

Silence slammed back into place.

Rhenai’s breath came in ragged bursts. Tovan’s hands shook around the hatchet grip, then steadied.

Zio lowered the rifle.

That was close, she acknowledged privately. Too close.

She stood and approached the fallen animal. The children followed, slower now, the adrenaline draining into something heavier. Zio knelt beside the Kava’tel, placing her hand on its flank. It was still warm.

“We thank it,” she said.

Rhenai hesitated, then knelt. Tovan followed.

They worked together to dress the animal, Zio guiding with short, efficient corrections. Blood soaked into the soil, dark and quick. The jungle absorbed it without comment.

As they worked, Zio’s mind drifted, unbidden, to another morning, years ago, when the jungle had been louder. When voices had tried to be calm and reasoned.

Her husband’s voice, steady even then.

They’ll listen, he had said. They have to.

She pushed the memory aside before it could root.

When they finished, Zio stood, wiping her hands clean. She looked at her children, really looked this time.

Rhenai’s eyes were bright, unsettled. Tovan’s gaze was distant, thoughtful.

“They won’t understand today,” Zio thought, watching them shoulder the burden together. But they will.

The jungle resumed its sounds as the light strengthened. Birds called. Leaves shifted. Dawn settled fully into place.

Zio turned them toward home.

Behind them, the jungle remembered everything.

TBC

 

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