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Calm, be calm, tranquility. She had woken before the bang, but did not think she had triggered it. Lazily, her head turned to here she had heard her brother's voice, "Here, brother." And she did not bother to go and meet him. They looked like shadows, she thought, their skin a thick, inky black. Impossible to find for the most part. When she closed her eyes she was nothingness, an empty void. She liked closing her eyes, did it often. This world, she thought, as she rose to her feet, was an interesting one. Feet dug down, deep into the earth, a fragile one. So, so, fragile. There was the faintest smile on her face, but it was for only a moment as she faced her brother's direction once more.

"What is it, brother?" She often referred to him as that, brother, not Midnights Shadow. She just preferred brother to that, for only she could call him brother - save her other siblings. Anyone could call him by his given name, anyone, but brother, so much more pocessive, brother's was hers to call him. She liked that.

Questions, he always had questions. And while Skyeater was inquisitive like her twin brother, her own puzzlements were more reserved, silently portrayed in her eyes. Silence, in that she found piece, in it, there was comfort. The mere being of stillness, it was so innocent…so absolutely venerable. Her brother, she figured, was chaotic, unpredictable. But in his sister there was a malicious feeling stirring in her heart, one that had yet to come out, one that was not quite sure of itself, but it was a strong feeling – and one that would only become stronger as her affinity to the shadows grew. For now, however, she was still just a child. Her eyes blinked slowly, to an unknown rhythm, as she listened patiently to the flood of words emerging from her brother’s mouth.

“The noise…” She repeated softly, for she was naturally a quieter being than her twin, “Yes, I heard the sound, too, brother, and I do not know what it is.” Another pause, looking from side to side, “Its vocalist is not evident, or not obviously so…” She murmured, slowly taking in the details to this mystery. She stood, a bit shaky, as she attempted to find her balance. “So, then, it is a mystery…” She knew she was killing him, prolonging what he wanted to here. He was a runner, but the gun would not shoot and he could not dash. She wasn’t sure if she was enjoying this teasing or not, but either way her gut – and perhaps her own youthful desire for adventure – told her to put an end to it, “What say we go solve this mystery?” She finally suggested, her voice eerily happy. It would only be a matter of time before the happiness trickled away from her, but for now, she would savour it – though perhaps subconsciously.

The balanced each other out, she decided, he was impulsive, she was strategic, he was adventurous, she was cautious, he was loud, she was quite. All the traits had their positives and their negatives, but together, together they were a strong pair, evening each other out, covering up the weaknesses of the other, concealing them in the darkness. She was bound her brother, since the time she had spent in the sac with him. She was forever bound to him, though the strength of this tie had yet to be tested, she was confident that it would become a lasting one. She could not imagine a darkness without her brother sitting in the shadows with her.

Love, did she love him? She could not wrap her mind around that word, could not dive into its complexities. She wasn’t sure if what she felt for him was love, but whatever it was it was strong. And Skyeater knew, at the very least, that her brother was the only creature she’d be willing to risk her life for, the only one who perhaps held as much value in her mind as herself. Some loved, or felt deeply for one another just because they shared blood, but she did not love him because of that. Not because of his title – “Brother” – rather for him, who he was and more importantly, who he was to her.

There was the smallest of grins as her four strange eyes, four dots of red in the darkness, blinked slowly, taking in this world. Her breath was sharp, the air smelt of moist leaves and murky ground, of night and shadows. It was somewhat comforting, though why she could not say. She was cautious as she stepped, her pace slower than her brothers, but only by a few steps at most. She would never be that far from him, and both of them knew that fact well.

“There is so much silence,” she commented, eyes blinking, voice dull. Perhaps there was the tiniest bit of surprise from the youth’s mouth, she wasn’t so sure herself. But, where had the sound gone to? For it seemed to have escaped.

She wondered, briefly, if it irritated her brother to walk so slowly, as he grew more and more fidgety and perhaps impatient, as time wore on. Her mind and concerns were put at ease as she decided that it was good for him to learn patience, or at least to control himself. Yes, that was a valuable lesson. There was an eerie feeling lurking in the air, hiding in the valleys that the spikes on her back – cliffs – made, a prickle down legs. There was something out there that she was sure of, but she would not run from it – rather she was intrigued by it, wishing it to come out. How gruesome could it be?

She trusted the darkness because it was familiar, she trusted the shadows, for they wove stories for her, but today there were none of those. Today the dark was different, something poisoning it, but, that thing, whatever it was, was also a friend, and it too wore the shadows as its cloak, so that suddenly they had an affinity with one another, but one Skyeater could not locate, one she did not trust. Perhaps it was her brother that alerted her to it – didn’t twins often share thoughts? – Or perhaps this feeling was so blatant and while the one emitting it was hidden, the feeling could not hide.

However, suddenly she stopped. A feeling surged through her, her hooves planting into the ground. Red eyes blinked slowly, ears swerving to listen carefully… Still, she could not place it. But then she inhaled, air rushed into her lungs, but it was filthy air, reaked by a revolting – and somehow morbidly comforting – smell. It was one that reminded her of blood but also of sick, of rotting. She was still for a few, brief moments and then, slowly, carefully, her body moved in the direction of the smell.

“Come, brother.”

Her body weaved slowly, a snake dancing through the night, she was relying on her senses to guide her, a compass inside of her. But she did stop, eventually, her legs had not yet grown weary, and she still had plenty of breath, but something about the journey or perhaps it was the place – and the now overbearing smell – that made her feel tired, weak.

“Brother…” She whispered, as her eyes fell to the ground, “I think…perhaps…this heard the thud too…”

Her body froze, only her eyes moved, scanning the body on the ground, another of their kind, an adult, a male. Though he was not of the same design they were, not cut from the same cloth. His eyes were shut, but tightly, his mouth contorted in pain. He was of a deep rusty orange, browns and reds with flecks of gold, not the black they were. Skyeater imagined his eyes to be bright and radiant, not the frightening red that theirs was. His eyes were also normal.

One hoof pawed at him, boldly, and when he did not react that confirmed it. He was cold and lifeless, strange, a new experience to Skyeater, at least. She looked silently from the corpse to her brother, and though her mouth opened slightly, she did not speak a word.

The more she stared at those lifeless eyes, the more natural, normal they became. And her shock and fear was slowly dulled into the same calmness he emitted. A dead, unfeeling sort of emotion, that, like a parasite, burrowed through her, eating at her being and taking nest in her heart, her mind, her soul. She wondered if she was feeling this deceased kimeti, like she felt her brother’s mind… Though, she doubted that somewhat, her brother and her, they were special. And yet this kimeti could still touch her, reach out to her…and he didn’t even have to breathe.

The stink of the corpse became more and more natural as well, as she breathed it in. Rotting became oxygen, just as day became night. She could not explain any of this; it was just how it was to be.

“I have no answers,” she breathed, red eyes blinked slowly, Shallow breathes were quite, almost as dulled as the silence that surrounded them. And yet, it was as if the life of the late swampgoat echoed around her, drawing her in, a secret, a story. “Only more questions…”

“I think he needs a name, it’s rather sad for one not to be blessed with one, of course, he must have had one, a dream, a spirit but still…” She said each word slowly, as if she was listening, not speaking, “I think he has lost his name.” Could you do that? Loose your name? If no one knew it, did you not have one? Of course, he had been given one, but perhaps, a corpse deserved another name, “Silently-he-rots, that is what we shall call him.” Perhaps the naming of him wasn’t all that natural either, but what had been today?

She had lost herself in inspected the features of the kimeti’s face, not truly listening to her brother. She thought that perhaps he had been a peaceful buck, a handsome one; perhaps he had been blessed with a mate or young ones. The thought revolted her more than the corpse. He looked so natural on this side, as if nothing had happened

“Turn him over then,” she finally whispered, though her voice was rather hoarse, like a hiss, perhaps, “perhaps there will be more clues there.”

How could there be so much life in such dead eyes? Was it possible that the sleeping knew more than those who still had breath to waste? Skyeater was no longer sure. How odd was it, so soon from their waking they encounter the dead… Was that to be a sign? Again, there were so many questions and so little answers – only silence. There was comfort, staring into eyes…eyes that knew more than she did, eyes that had seen more than she had, eyes that would not judge her for the four that blinked silently, not that she cared what anyone thought of her, but still, to know that someone thought a little better, someone was a little more open, to think that there were more to confide in then just her brother gave her hope, happiness. A feeling that made her insides will the tiniest bit sick.

Skyeater supposed she should’ve helped her brother as she watched him struggle, and valiantly succeed, in the labour. Perhaps it would’ve gone smoother had she been there to assist him. The thought soon left her without any bit of guilt, he would do the brute strength, she would use her mind, a fair sort of tradeoff, she thought, anyways. And with nothing left to shake from her soul, she stood and approached the other side of Silently-he-rots, not waiting for her brother – he’d come when he’d come.

Four eyes blinked as a hoofed limb traced the…wounds? Where they cuts she wasn’t sure? Something had turn open the buck’s flesh, but all the holes – for that was what their were, quite literally, holes and tunnels – were neat, clean…Except for one, a largest tear in the middle, where a few strands of skin and blood still swirled, but otherwise, beneath it was unnaturally clean, empty. Skyeater’s head turned slightly to a side; it looked like a design, a fancy sort of pattern. And why was he hollow? It was as if someone had taken all his innards and guts right out…how odd.

“A design, see, brother?” she whispered, still puzzling over the peculiarity of this event, “And he has been hollowed by whatever attacked him…” She let a silence fall over them, so that they might reflect better on these events, “But, note, brother, how peaceful he looks…” Shouldn’t such a process invoke pain, one that would course through your entire body? One that would be displayed, so grotesquely on every since feature one had to display? So many questions…

“I think it is logical…” She muttered, more to herself than her brother, “to assume that, the thud we heard was him, perhaps as he fell to the ground. Of course, there are other possibilities and this one fails to explain why he is so peaceful, unless, this hollowing did not hurt him…” Still, she followed the design, over and over again, and once more after that, until she had a solid picture of it in her mind, something told her it was important, or would grow to become so.

Spiders? Well, she supposed perhaps it was possible, regardless of whatever size it would need to be, after all, this was exactly a usual case, was it. Still, there was comfort in ignorance, she supposed. Comfort in thinking that spiders could not do this, that spiders were not this dangerous. If insects were that large, were that lethal, surely it meant trouble for them all, not just this buck, not just Silently-he-rots. For if it was spiders then soon they would all rot. And so, it was also comforting to think that Silently had been picked off for a reason, that he had brought this upon himself. It was naively comforting to think that you were safe.

Why? Why was such an endless word, so much to offer, so much to uncover. Why this buck? Was it intentional or just a fluke? Why were they to find him? Destiny, fate or pure chance? Who, it was a bit more limited, not as endless, but still so long. Who? Or perhaps it was a what? Who knew? Certainly they didn’t, they were in the dark… Something that was once their friend, something that was their friend. But today the shadows were hiding something.

She turned her head slowly towards the hole, the presumed tunnel and let out a soft snort. Could the answers be there? Buried under the earth? Logic nagged at her, told her to just walk away from this, to be safe. But, what was safety? Four eyes blinked, dim glows in the darkness, movement in the silence…And then a low nod, “Fine.” And that was all to be said about it. She rose to her fours and, tracing the pattern once more, the last time perhaps, she maneuvered to the hole and crouched in, diving first. This way, her brother would be able to see over the spaces she didn’t fill.