Luna had a problem.

Well, it actually had several, but one was more pressing than the others stacked together. And growing worse by the day.

Luna's initial assessment had been correct. One unfriend gifted Knowing had become two. Two later became three. And three, unfortunately and independently of Luna's will, were becoming many.

Too many to easily hide and remain safe from prying eyes.

It hadn't expected its efforts to prove so successful, so quickly. The beastmen were enthusiastically bringing more of their own to Luna to turn, and Luna didn't have enough venom for them all. It had to learn to gift it drop by drop, and offer very little Knowing to each new comer. Just enough to become aware of them, but not for them become aware of themselves like the first did. Even so, making enough venom was a strain.

But it made the unfriends happy enough to obey Luna.

Soon Luna would need to abandon the nest it had made of the human dwelling and leave to seek out a more spacious warren. It would only be a matter of time before their muster attracted the attention of the creatures flying overhead day and night. The big human nest next to which they hid had stopped burning. Now there was constant traffic to and from the place, and Luna watched it from the hiding space.

Such wondrous creatures came and went. Some looked like that which its friends had called dragon, but smaller. They carried cages slung beneath.

Luna forced its mind away from the looming threat of the fortress, and considered the information it had and what it could do with it.

Two things had been unexpected entirely. The first was how willing and eager the beastmen were to talk about themselves once they gained speech.

Luna had adopted the beastman name from friend Vergil, but the Knowing-gifted referred to themselves as fyaras, and they came from a place named Lamurr, now long dead and deserted. They had fled a great catastrophe in their land and were brought here by the White Ones, to fight the war that would gift them a new land to call home.

The White Ones had lied. The crossing was done. And now the fyaras were only needed to serve their second role, which was to be food for the great monsters crossing the portal. This realisation did not sit well even with the simplest, most dimwitted of the fyaras.

Luna understood their fury. It wasn't hard to. The library spiders had also been hunted by the false mother's brood for an age. To be betrayed by your own, even if against their will, was a bitter morsel.

The first that Luna had gifted with Knowing, that goat-headed fyara, named himself Tharamor of the Split Peaks, spawn of Thauld and Gawra. That one grew brighter by the passing day, the Knowing taking deeper root in him, much deeper than in those that came after. Luna had given him more venom than the rest and it showed.

With success came the second problem: Luna needed to feed its fledgling tribe. Well, it didn't need to feed them. They could eat one another for all it cared, but there was safety in numbers, and Luna desperately needed safety. At least for long enough that it could put together a plan of escape that blighted land and, maybe, follow friend Vergil.

Now it could actually conceptualise the idea that it could reunite with its human friends. Three days prior, Luna had felt friends Vergil and Sil again. The feeling was faint, thin as silk, but definitely real. It felt their presence for only a fleeting moment, but it heartened Luna to know its friends were still alive and, by how the connection came and went, they were travelling.

It didn't grudge them leaving. It knew this because when it sat huddled in its attic, thinking through the issue of the fyaras, it also thought deeply on its feelings about being alone once more. Luna wasn't upset. It understood how impossible a task it would be to try and find a camouflaged spider in the Cauldron amidst the chaos of that terrifying day of slaughter. Friend Vergil would have risked himself needlessly if he had lingered.

So Luna basked in the joy of knowing its friends were well. It marked the direction in which the feeling travelled before snapping.

Now it sat. Observing. Thinking. Planning.

It had been at it for three days. All the while Tharamor brought more of the fyaras to Luna for the gift, as he called it. Luna had no gift to give. It took a long, long time to produce the Knowing venom, but the other fyaras didn't seem to need it.

A mood lay across these frightened unfriends. While they snapped and growled at one another, broke into sudden and vicious bouts of violence, they were frightened and upset. The smell of dead hope clung to them.

They felt as beasts do, powerfully and simply. In some way, Luna preferred not to take that away from them, especially as it began noticing Tharamor's increasingly despairing scent. He, through no fault of his own, was understanding what they'd done and how they'd been used.

Would he remain useful? Or should Luna kill and eat him? It was another conundrum to add to the increasing volume that occupied Luna's mind.

One of them being that Luna needed to eat. It had put off the hunger for as long as it had dared. But its transformation from eating the unfriend appeared to have run its course, and so had the surplus of energy it had gained then. Now Luna stood large enough that it would topple friend Vergil if it clung to him.

Or maybe not. Friend Vergil was quite strong.

But Luna would definitely topple friend Sil now. Not to mention how, if it reared up somehow on its hind legs, it would be nearly as tall as friend Sil.

All that mass had built off of the strange meat of the unfriend.

And now Luna was starving.

"Mother." Tharamor's thickened voice made Luna jump. Hidden away in the dark, its mind occupied, it hadn't heard the fyara come into the hovel.

"Yes," it replied. "What is it you need? This one cannot gift Knowing." And would not be able for a long time if it didn't get something to eat.

"Food, Mother. We have found food."

That got Luna to uncurl from its corner and creep to the broken hole that separated the two levels. Three fyaras slept fitfully below, with Tharamor standing between them. It regarded Luna with bright eyes, their square irises glistening with newfound intelligence.

"And you haven't brought it here why?" Luna asked as it regarded its first—

It was tempted to think of Tharamor as its first child, but Luna didn't dare commit such disrespect to Mother. Luna could lay no eggs, make no children, carry no ideal of rule and leadership. Thought it did need a new classification for Tharamor and his kin. They were no longer unfriends. They were shackled to Luna's will, and thus weren't friends. It understood the concepts of slavery and subjugation, but those had been the false mother's tools and Luna wanted nothing to do with them.

Maybe allies? Though they weren't. Not until bloodied and proven.

Or—

It shook itself, aware how its mind wandered too far from the need of the moment. Had Tharamor answered? It looked expectant at Luna.

"Repeat," Luna said. "This one's mind is busy."

The goatman let out a scream. Luna knew it didn't do it on purpose. Tharamor himself had no idea why it screamed as it did. The other fyaras jumped at the sudden noise, then slumped back into fitful sleep.

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"Food towards the gate," Tharamor said, gesturing in the direction away from the human ruin. "In forest. Much space."

Luna considered that. It had heard speak from the humans about the forest. They called it an evil place. A dangerous place. But was it any worse than anywhere else in the Cauldron?

"What food did you find?" Luna climbed the wall and lowered itself down on a rope of webbing. The web it could now spin was far stronger than anything it had ever done before. "And why haven't you brought it here?"

"Meat, Mother. Living meat. Much meat. Hiding. Hidden."

Luna wasn't aware of animals living in the forest. But it wasn't aware of much about the Cauldron, and expected anything left of the human knowledge would have been scoured from wherever it lay hidden within the walls of the Rock.

"Describe the meat," Luna demanded as it settled on the floor. Tharamor was quick to kneel and set his rusted axe at Luna's feet.

"Four legs. Small. Skittish. Other fyara chased but meat quick. Ran away into the forest. Fyaras chased. Found big place in forest. No trees. Grass. Many meat. All ran and hid. Fyaras found burrows. Many. Found tunnels. Many. Good place. No White Ones there."

The description meant little to Luna. Four-legged animals that lived in the forest could really be anything. Luna was no hunter, but it needed food that wasn't touched by the fyaras' masters. It didn't want to risk another growth spurt that would change it even worse than the first.

"You saw this?" it asked, suspicion blooming.

"Saw," Tharamor said. "Saw and chased. Lost in burrows. Burrows like homes of White Ones. Others like Mother there, but small. Small."

Spiders. That didn't surprise Luna, but it didn't expect any Kin here. Heading into the forest did offer possibilities. Staying in the old human dwelling, with fyaras gathering at all times of day and night, felt like a risk that would invariably lead to catastrophe.

But… that was a reactive solution to a problem Luna could be done with if it chose. It could simply demand Tharamor and the other awakened—that was a good word for its brood—chase off the feral ones. It wouldn't solve the inherent risk of being discovered, but it would lessen it.

Is this how friend Tallah felt? Luna wondered at the red-furred terrifying human. Always having to choose in order to move forward, always risking disaster in one form or another. It regretted not having the courage to spend more time around that one and learn from her. Too late now.

Some of the fyaras in the room finally stirred awake from where they slept in tight huddles. They uncoiled and stared about, bleary-eyed, drool hanging in thick strings from their mouths. They weren't of the awakened but of those that had received just the barest communion with Luna. How they would fare for their mother remained to be seen.

Luna realised its thoughts ran in circles and drew them tighter together. This state of affairs could not continue. It needed to eat. Its allies would either aid or desert it. Friends Vergil, Sil, and Tallah were gone away and unlikely to return. Staying in one nearly burnt out hovel next to the fortress walls would not help Luna. The time was ripe to move.

"Night approaches fast," Luna said, daring a look at the strange overcast sky. The red glow from the heart of the Cauldron still painted the mountain horizon in bloodied colours, but the coming of night was unmistakable. "Where are the White Ones? No flyers in the sky all day today."

Tharamor rose and walked next to Luna, looking through the missing door at the high walls. "No flyers," it repeated. "Much screaming. Much fyaras inside. Many eaten. More White Ones coming around forest."

"What of Mol'Ach?" Luna demanded. "Where is that one?"

Tharamor shook his head. "No see. None see. Eyes around forest no see Mol'Ach move."

Last Luna had heard of that creature, it was passing through the Rock's gates. It hadn't emerged back out, but that meant little. The Rock was connected to the other abandoned human nest, and to the Cauldron itself through the tunnels. Curiosity about Mol'Ach's similarity to Mother burned beneath Luna's shell, but it pushed that question aside.

The hunger gnawed at its patience. It could eat one of the lesser fyaras, though that would likely not endear it to the others if their former masters were already doing the same. And just then, Luna had made the decision to keep the creatures. It would need them.

So, the best option became to migrate into the forest. Luna was decided.

"Where are Gorebiter and Howler?" Luna demanded. Those were the other true awakened, the ones who directly followed Tharamor. Gorebiter was a wolfman, while Howler was a lizard creature, utterly silent except for when she fought. Luna had tasked them with exploring the areas around the Rock in search of food and any information that could be gleamed.

"Forest," the goatman replied.

"Call them back. Come night, we migrate all to the forest." Luna felt a slow shiver start in its core, then travel up its segments to the tips of its legs. Excitement mixed with fear. It revelled in it. "Trickle. No groups. Spread out the word. You, Gorebiter, and Howler will accompany this one. Protectors."

Tharamor stood straighter at that, then bowed his head and rushed back out into the afternoon light, leaving behind a miasma of excitement and pride. The other fyaras followed him silently, each bowing to Luna in turn.

First safety. Then food. Then…

Then what? Luna couldn't follow its human friends. It knew the direction, but it would be foolish to cross the mountains in its current state. But the White Ones would probably choose to do that at some point. Where friend Tallah had taken the others, the White Ones would probably follow. The Cauldron could not be Mol'Ach's final goal. It wasn't, if Mol'Ach's meeting with the shadow woman meant anything.

Luna and its awakened would follow the White Ones once they began their move out of the Cauldron. It was bound to happen. All Luna needed to do was wait and continue building up its tribe. If they found food in the forest, then they could be self-sufficient until the moment to leave ripened. And Luna could plan more.

Patience was its highest virtue. Only hunger assailed, so Luna would prioritise feeding. A hungry body leads to a wandering mind.

This was settled. The storm of its thoughts quieted. It had the beginning of a plan, so it was at least one step closer to reuniting with friends and Kin.

Tharamor returned late in the evening, just as darkness began creeping across the empty plain in front of the fortress, to pool against its walls. Fires raged inside the Rock and painted the lonely peak above in dancing light. Even the night itself was barren there, the dark stained red by whatever it was that happened at the heart of the Cauldron.

"All here." Tharamor was followed inside the hovel by Gorebiter and Howler. They were all bloody. Luna didn't ask. "Many sent forward. Opening the path. Making safe. Can go now."

A shiver of excitement set Luna's senses aflame. It squeezed out into the night chill and drank deep of the scents dancing on the air. The sky threatened thin rain, and the chill was threaded with wisps of warm air coming past the mountains.

Fires blazed atop the Rock's walls. Screams drifted down from the fortress, all of them terrible. Whatever the new occupiers were doing, Luna would rather not learn.

Gorebiter strode past it, one long sword in its right hand, one hooked hammer in its left. It let out a low growl and Howler fell into step besides it. Both of them were large, muscular, and full of scars. They'd survived much to reach the Cauldron. Here they'd dragged one another from the ruinous path of the Red Horror.

Tharamor remained at Luna's back. No other fyaras joined them, as Luna had ordered.

It was an odd feeling to walk through the night flanked by three bodyguards. Luna quite liked the safety. It could well get used to this, to having some that would care for its needs. It decided, finally, that it would not eat Tharamor. Nor Gorebiter or Howler.

The Cauldron, away from the screaming walls, was a place of black shadows and odd silences, broken only by the heavy sounds of other, less stealthy things braving the dark. Fyaras, most of them. Some were even of their brood. Most just lost, hungry and frightened of what awaited them once the White Ones found them again.

More creatures than just these had come when the humans ran. Many prowled the open fields. None, to the best of Tharamor's ability to observe, had gone into the forest and come out. Many of the White Ones' creatures avoided that place.

Luna could understand why as the forest moved into view. It didn't remember the forest being quite so close to the walls, or so high, or so dense. The forest had moved and it had grown, very much like Luna itself.

Did it feed on blood? There was no shortage of that.

The dark beneath the trees was absolute. But Luna didn't feel direct danger coming from the forest. There was a bristling as Gorebiter and Howler approached, then a calm as Luna did.

Something moved in the shadowy canopy. A small light came alive. Then more. They descended the trees in a gentle trickle and bobbed expectantly as Luna's group approached.

Gorebiter and Howler tightened their grip on their weapons and hunched forward, ready for a fight.

"No," Luna said, all eyes on the fireflies. It felt a shiver of danger at the display of hostility. It passed when the fyaras drew aside for it to approach. "Follow. Do not attack."

"Mother," Gorebiter said. "Forest kill White Ones. Saw this."

Luna passed him, still watching the lights. "Were you attacked by the forest?"

"Yes."

"Did you try and hurt it first?"

"Yes. Cut way through."

Luna's senses were aflame with a call from within the woods that it was finding hard to deny. It had only needed to approach to begin hearing it, and now it was unmistakable.

"We are being invited. Do not attack. We will not be harmed."

Several flowers bloomed on branches, their petals opening like eyes. Luna felt watched as the fireflies led the way.

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