Lessons That Bleed Quietly - A Zio Story ptII

Posted on Fri Jan 16th, 2026 @ 6:00pm by Patin

1,038 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Character Development
Location: Bajor - Jungle

The jungle smelled different after first light.

Sap warmed and thinned. Damp earth released a coppery tang where blood had soaked in earlier. Insects returned cautiously, testing the air with short, tentative clicks. Even the leaves sounded altered now, less brittle, more forgiving, as if the world had decided the night’s dangers were finished.

Zio knew better.

She moved deeper into the southern canopy, where the trees grew closer together and the light fractured into narrow, uncertain bands. Her prosthetic leg adjusted automatically to the uneven terrain, internal gyros compensating for roots and sudden drops. She felt the faint resistance in the joint, the soft corrective pressure that kept her balanced.

Pressure tells the truth, she thought. Pain lies. Silence lies. Pressure never does.

Behind her, Rhenai and Tovan followed, not as closely as before. Zio had spaced them deliberately. Distance revealed habits. Distance revealed mistakes.

Rhenai moved with confidence now, shoulders looser, bow cradled across her chest. Her boots brushed leaves she could have avoided. Not careless, just eager. The smell of her sweat carried faintly forward, sharp with adrenaline and youth.

Tovan was quieter. His breath stayed low, timed with his steps. His hand rested near the plasma hatchet’s grip, not gripping it, just remembering it was there. His eyes kept drifting to the canopy, then back to the ground, mapping vertical space.

Zio let them lead.

The jungle thickened. Vines tangled low, forcing detours. A humid weight pressed against skin, turning clothing heavy and damp. Somewhere ahead, a sharp crack echoed, wood splitting under deliberate force.

Zio stopped.

The children halted seconds later, not perfectly together. Rhenai first. Tovan after.

Zio crouched, fingertips brushing the soil. The ground here was disturbed, scuffed leaves, shallow gouges in the loam.

“Shadeclaws,” Rhenai whispered.

Zio nodded once.

Rilak Shadeclaws were not fast in the way Kava’tel were fast. They were patient. Intelligent. They tested. They circled. They learned.

Just like soldiers, Zio thought, and felt the old memory stir, not fear, not anger, but recognition.

She gestured silently, indicating a slow advance. Rhenai moved ahead, scanning left to right, bow half-drawn. Tovan lagged, watching their rear, his body angled for sudden turns.

A low chitter rippled through the underbrush, not loud, not hidden. A sound meant to be heard.

Zio felt Rhenai tense. Her draw tightened.

Too early, Zio noted. Too loud inside.

The chitter came again, closer now, answered by another from the opposite side. Leaves rustled with deliberate care. A scent cut through the humidity, sharp, musky, predatory.

They were being measured.

Rhenai shifted her weight, boot scraping lightly against stone.

The jungle answered immediately.

A Shadeclaw emerged from the brush ahead, long-limbed, slate-furred, its eyes reflecting faint amber light. It did not charge. It watched. Its head tilted slightly, calculating.

Another moved behind them. Then another.

Zio raised a hand.

Freeze.

The children obeyed.

The air felt thick enough to press against the lungs. Zio could hear her own breathing, slow and controlled. She could hear Rhenai’s, faster, uneven. Tovan’s breath barely registered at all.

Good, she thought of him. You’re listening.

The Shadeclaws crept closer, pads soundless against the soil. One snapped its jaws softly, testing reaction.

Rhenai whispered, tight, “We can take one.”

Zio did not answer.

She studied the angles, the spacing, the way the pack shifted in response to the slightest movement. They could kill one. Maybe two. And then the rest would come.

This is how it starts, she thought. This is always how it starts.

She lowered her rifle.

Rhenai’s head snapped toward her. Confusion flickered, then anger.

Zio met her daughter’s eyes, calm, unyielding.

“No,” Zio said softly. “We withdraw.”

“What?” Rhenai hissed. “We’re ready.”

“You’re loud,” Zio replied. “And they’re patient.”

The Shadeclaws edged closer.

Tovan’s gaze flicked between the predators, then back to Zio. He swallowed.

“They’re waiting for us to commit,” he said quietly.

Zio nodded once.

She backed away slowly, never turning her back, signaling the children to follow. Step by careful step, they retreated, bodies tight, breath measured. The Shadeclaws advanced just enough to keep pressure, then stopped.

They did not pursue.

The jungle exhaled, not relief, but acceptance.

Only when the canopy thinned and the sounds of smaller creatures returned did Zio allow them to stop.

Rhenai spun on her, frustration sharp and immediate.

“We could’ve won,” she said. “You taught us how.”

Zio studied her daughter, the fire, the certainty, the dangerous belief that capability demanded use.

“Yes,” Zio said. “You could have.”

She stepped closer, her voice low.

“And then what?”

Rhenai faltered.

Zio looked past her, into the trees, where memory lived thickest.

“There was a man once,” Zio said, “who believed words were stronger than weapons.”

Tovan’s head lifted. Rhenai stilled.

“He wasn’t wrong,” Zio continued. “But he believed everyone else wanted peace as much as he did.”

Her jaw tightened.

“They didn’t.”

The jungle creaked softly around them, branches shifting as if adjusting to weight long gone.

“He tried to reason with monsters,” Zio said. “They taught him what failure looked like.”

She did not say his name. She did not need to.

Rhenai’s hands curled into fists.

“So what?” she demanded. “We just run every time?”

Zio met her gaze steadily.

“No,” she said. “We choose.”

She stepped back, adjusting the strap at her prosthetic knee. The familiar pressure grounded her.

“Loyalty without thought becomes obedience,” Zio said. “Obedience is how monsters get helpers.”

Silence settled between them, heavy but necessary.

Tovan looked down at his hands, then up again. “You didn’t run,” he said quietly. “You decided.”

Zio inclined her head.

The jungle shifted as a breeze cut through, carrying the scent of rain not yet fallen.

They’re learning, Zio thought. Slowly. The only way that lasts.

She turned them back toward camp, the path different now, less direct. Lessons rarely took the shortest route.

Behind them, the Shadeclaws melted back into shadow, unchallenged but not victorious.

The jungle remembered that too.

TBC

 

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