Lumz staggered back from the lip and dropped hard onto his haunches, his short tail thumping behind him. His breath caught in his throat. No. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t what he’d seen. The basket hadn’t really gone over. It couldn’t have.

  Below, the basket contents struck the stone outcroppings, thudding, scattering, and tumbling in a broken cascade of impacts that echoed up the crevasse. The sounds grew fainter and fainter until the dark swallowed them completely.

  He rushed to the edge and gripped the stone, leaning out over the drop. The glow lamps above cast long shadows down the chasm, but he saw nothing, no movement, no shapes, no sign of his friends.

  “Teko…?” The name slipped out in a thin, cracking whisper. “Tava…?”

  Only the last fading echoes drifted back up to him.

  His chest hurt. He forgot how to breathe. The dark below felt too big.

  He should hear them.

  They should be calling back.

  They weren’t.

  Lumz did not remember deciding to run.

  One moment he was at the edge, the next his legs were moving on their own, small feet slapping wildly against the stone as he tore along the well worn paths between the rounded structures of Skalehaven. His stride pitched forward, uneven and frantic, as if the run itself were dragging him along.

  He clipped the corner of a low water basin, sending a splash across the path. A startled elder hissed and jerked her hands back from the washing she was doing, but Lumz barely heard her.

  He darted past two juveniles carrying a bundle of dried fungus stalks. One yelped and dropped half the load as Lumz brushed past, but he didn’t stop. His breath came in sharp, broken bursts. His thoughts tangled.

  “The basket, the basket, I didn’t, I didn’t mean…!”

  Two Trapwardens stood ahead, greeting each other in low voices as they compared the route they meant to take today. The implements of their trade clinked softly at their sides with each shift of their weight.

  Lumz didn’t slow.

  He clipped one Trapwarden’s leg as he passed, stumbling sideways. The adult jolted, reaching down instinctively.

  “Easy there, little one, are you hurt?” the Trapwarden asked, concern edging into his voice.

  But Lumz had already scrambled upright, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He bolted forward again without answering, feet slapping the stone as the Trapwarden called after him.

  But Lumz was already gone, veering off the main path without thinking, cutting between two dwellings where thickly woven cloth hung from a drying line.

  Teko and Tava’s Broodmother stood there, arms raised as she pinned another dripping section in place.

  Lumz barreled straight into her.

  The cloth sagged, her claws slipped from the pin, and she caught him instinctively before he could bounce off her legs and fall. “Lumz, easy now,” she said, steadying him with both hands. Her voice was soft, even a little amused at first, the way adults often were when a hatchling came tearing through a place he had no business running. “Slow down, hatchling. What is all this…”

  Behind her, Teko and Tava’s Broodfather stepped out from the doorway, still dusted with soil from the fields. He was wiping his hands on a cloth and gave a short laugh when he saw Lumz tangled in the laundry. “Careful there, Lumz. You will knock the whole line down at this rate.”

  Then he saw Lumz’s face.

  The amusement faded. He moved closer to his mate, posture tightening, eyes narrowing with concern.

  She had already noticed. She looked down at Lumz again.

  His trembling. His wide, unfocused stare. The way he held his arms tight against himself, as if bracing for something he could not name.

  Her crest lowered.

  “Lumz… what happened?”

  He tried. He really did. But the words came out in a frantic tumble, half sob, half confession.

  “The basket, it tipped, I didn’t mean it, I was helping, it just, it just went, it went over…!”

  Her scales paled beneath the lantern light.

  The Broodfather stepped in closer, voice no longer playful. “Show me,” he said, low and tight.

  They did not waste time with more questions. Both adults turned sharply toward the main path, moving with a sudden, urgent purpose. Others nearby, hearing the strain in their voices, followed.

  Lumz trailed after them, legs wobbling, breath hitching, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

  They reached the edge of the crevasse.

  The Broodmother leaned out first, lantern light trembling in her hand. The Broodfather braced her with one arm, his crest rising as he scanned the darkness below.

  There was nothing. No movement. No sound but the faint settling of debris far below.

  A sharp, pained noise escaped the Broodmother’s throat. The Broodfather’s jaw tightened.

  Only then did the alarm truly spread.

  Voices rose in confusion and fear. Lantern light bobbed as adults rushed toward the edge, their words tumbling over each other, questions, rope, someone shouting for more hands. Lumz could not see who shouted what, he only saw hands reaching past him, gear being pulled from hooks, harness loops shaking as adults checked them with quick, anxious tugs. Kobolds tugged at the old climbing harnesses, tightening loops and testing knots, making sure each line would hold before anyone dared the descent.

  In the middle of the noise, two kobolds hurried in from the far side of the settlement, guiding the Clutch Keeper toward the gathering crowd.

  She moved slowly, leaning on her carved stick, her long crest hanging dull and thin down her back. Her scales looked soft with age, almost dusty in the lantern glow. Adults pressed close to her at once, speaking in hurried whispers, pointing toward the edge, toward the ropes, toward the dark below. She answered them quietly, her voice low and steady. Lumz could not hear the words, only the way the adults nodded, the way their frantic movements shifted into something more focused. She touched one kobold’s arm, gesturing toward the harnesses. She tapped her stick lightly against the stone, and another adult hurried to fetch more lantern poles.

  She did not tell anyone what to do. She simply stood among them, speaking softly, and the chaos bent around her.

  Spears, dusty and rarely touched, were taken only after the decision was made. They were preparing to descend.

  Lumz stood among the growing crowd, small and shaking, unsure if he had explained anything clearly or if anyone understood how it happened. He only knew he had to stay close.

  Because Teko and Tava were somewhere down in the dark.

  And he was terrified he would never see them again.

  Adults closed in around him, a wall of legs and tails he could barely see past. Lumz tried to stand on his toes, craning his neck, but all he could see were shifting lantern glows and the edges of bodies. His world narrowed to knees and elbows and the press of movement. A wet snot bubble puffed from his nose as he sniffed hard, fighting to hold the tears back.

  His broodmother spotted him struggling and scooped him up onto her hip. Lumz clung to her shoulder, twisting to look past her arm, insisting he needed to see. His broodfather stayed close, pulling one of the harnesses straight and giving its knots a sharp, testing tug.

  Around them, the village churned in frantic motion.

  Lumz watched rope coils pass from claw to claw, watched adults fight with stubborn harness loops that would not sit right. Sharp voices overlapped… adults talking too fast… too loud… tripping over each other’s orders. He heard Teko and Tava’s broodfather muttering under his breath as he checked knots and lines, the words tight and angry, though Lumz could not make them out.

  Time stretched in a way Lumz did not understand. Every moment felt too long, too slow, the adults moving in circles while his stomach twisted tighter and tighter. His broodmother’s arm tightened around him more than once, as if she felt it too.

  Only when the last harness was secured and the final lantern pole readied did the crowd shift again.

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  The armed kobolds fanned out in a rough semicircle, bristling with their stone?tipped spears. Lumz’s broodmother stepped back with the others, holding him tight against her hip. Lantern light wavered over the adults’ shoulders and spear shafts, throwing long, trembling shadows across the stone.

  The Clutch Keeper stood just behind the semicircle, leaning lightly on her carved stick. Her long crest hung past her shoulders, its edges dulled with age, and the lantern glow softened the worn look of her scales. A few adults near her murmured in low, tight voices. She answered in the same calm tone she always used, her eyes fixed on the lip of the chute. She did not raise her voice. She did not step forward. She simply watched, steady as stone, and the semicircle held its shape around her.

  Lumz felt his broodmother’s grip tighten around him again.

  The crowd quieted.

  Every breath waited.

  They did not have to wait long.

  A small fur?covered paw reached up over the lip of the refuse chute, claws hooking into the stone. Another paw appeared beside it, then a twitching pink nose pushed into view, whiskers quivering in the lantern glow. A pair of black eyes followed, wide and shining. The creature hauled itself up, small and dust?streaked, ears round and large against its narrow head.

  Another climbed up beside it, then another, each one pulling itself onto the stone with careful, deliberate motions.

  Then a larger paw rose into view.

  Much larger.

  It dug into the stone with thick, curved claws, the fur along the forearm bristling as the weight behind it shifted upward. Lantern light slid across a heavy shoulder, then a broad head pushed into view, whiskers splayed, ears round and large, eyes catching the glow with a steady, unblinking shine.

  Gasps rippled through the semicircle of kobolds.

  The creature was enormous, as broad as two adults standing side by side. If it stood upright, it would have towered over all of them. It did not stand. It crouched low instead, keeping its body close to the stone, movements slow and careful. The smaller creatures clustered around it at once, settling near its flanks, ears flat, bodies tight and still.

  The giant one settled back into the same low, watchful posture as the other rats.

  It shifted its weight, turning just enough for the lantern light to catch the larger sling strapped across its back. The patchwork sling sagged unevenly, its contents pulling it to one side.

  Slowly, the creature reached back with one forepaw. Lumz watched it work at the straps, careful and deliberate, removing them one by one. The kobolds nearest the ledge muttered in concern, their spears trembling but not rising.

  The last strap slipped free.

  The giant rat eased the sling off its back, lowering it with both paws until the fabric touched the stone. It set it down gently, then backed away at once, returning to its low, still posture beside the others.

  No one moved. No one spoke.

  A few of the adults leaned forward, their lanterns tilting. The light shifted across the sling’s surface.

  The fabric moved.

  Lumz could not see much from where his own broodmother held him, only the way the gathered adults leaned forward, spears lifting again, lantern light trembling across their scales.

  A small hand pushed through the opening.

  Gasps rippled through the crowd. Lumz craned his neck, trying to see past elbows and lantern poles. For a heartbeat he saw nothing but shifting shadows and lantern glare.

  Then Teko’s snout appeared, dusty and streaked.

  Lumz’s breath caught. A tiny, shaky sound escaped him, half gasp and half laugh, pure relief bursting up before he could stop it. Teko was there. Teko was alive.

  But then Teko dragged the sling’s covering down farther with a trembling arm.

  And Lumz saw the limp shape pressed against him.

  Tava.

  She was not moving at all.

  The relief in Lumz’s chest collapsed so fast it hurt. His claws curled into his broodmother’s shoulder, and he pressed himself tighter against her, eyes wide and stinging.

  Teko and Tava’s broodparents reached the sling before anyone else. Their broodfather dropped to his knees so fast Lumz heard the scrape of claws on stone. Their broodmother fell beside him, arms wrapping around both children at once, pulling them in tight, all four of them pressed together in one shaking knot of limbs and tails.

  Teko’s voice came out thin. “She… she will not wake up.”

  Lumz felt his own broodmother’s grip tighten around him. Teko and Tava’s broodmother cupped Tava’s cheek with trembling claws.

  “Tava… Tava, sweet one,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You are safe now. Wake up for me.”

  She brushed her knuckles along Tava’s jaw, then gave her a small shake. When Tava did not move, she shook her again, harder. “Sweet one… open your eyes… please…”

  Their broodfather’s arms tightened around both children. Lumz could see the way the older kobold’s shoulders shook.

  A low chuff sounded from the giant rat, soft but carrying through the quiet.

  Lumz’s eyes snapped toward it. The huge creature had been pressed almost flat to the stone, but now it lifted itself a little, slow and careful, as if trying not to startle anyone. Its shoulders rose first, then its head, whiskers trembling. Several kobolds tensed, spears twitching upward again.

  The rat did not move toward them.

  Instead, it turned slightly and reached back toward the sagging sling on its side. Lumz watched its paw disappear into the folds of fabric, rummaging with small, deliberate motions. The creature’s ears stayed low, its posture still hunched, as if trying to show it meant no harm even while it searched.

  After a moment, its paw emerged holding something small.

  The rat lowered itself again, easing back down until its belly nearly touched the stone. Then, with a gentle push of its claws, it set the little object on the ground and nudged it forward.

  It rolled slowly across the stone, wobbling a bit, until it bumped against Teko and Tava’s broodfather’s knee.

  From Lumz’s angle, it was just a small round thing, no bigger than a fruit, its surface uneven in the lantern light.

  A spear?holding adult stepped aside, shifting just enough to clear a narrow path. The Clutch Keeper moved into it at once, hobbling forward with small, careful steps. The hardened mushroom stem cane she leaned on tapped softly against the stone as she came closer to where the broodparents knelt.

  Lumz watched her lower herself to her knees, slow and deliberate, her joints trembling as she reached out with both hands to lift the little object from the ground.

  She turned it over in her palms, tracing the tight seam where the two caps met. With a careful breath, she eased her claws between them and gave a small, testing tug. The seal parted just enough for a glint of thick amber to show inside, catching the lantern light.

  Her breath hitched. “Nectar of the deep.” She lifted her gaze, startled, and met the giant rat’s eyes for a brief, searching moment.

  She pressed the caps back together, firm and precise, sealing the bundle again. Then she held it up a little, tilting it in her palms, studying the way the two caps sat flush against each other, as if grown that way.

  Only after that quiet inspection did she speak, her voice low with a kind of measured respect.

  “…clever.” She extended the bundle toward the broodfather. “Take one cap off, and squeeze the drop into her mouth.”

  Their broodfather swallowed. “Is it safe?”

  The elder nodded once. “Safe. And strong. It will rouse her if anything can.”

  He took the bundle from her, hands shaking.

  Lumz watched as he pulled the caps apart. A thick bead of amber nectar stretched between them before snapping. A warm, sweet scent drifted out, sharp enough that even Lumz caught it from where he clung to his broodmother’s shoulder.

  Both broodparents looked toward the giant rat.

  The creature dipped its head once, slow and steady. Its whiskers twitched, nothing more.

  Teko and Tava’s broodmother eased Tava’s jaw open with her thumb. Their broodfather tilted one cap, squeezing its leathery edge until the bead of nectar slid free, slow and golden, rolling into Tava’s mouth.

  Tava swallowed.

  Her scales brightened almost at once, a faint flush blooming beneath the dust. Her breathing deepened. Her fingers twitched.

  Lumz held his breath.

  Tava’s throat worked again. Her eyelids fluttered. The pale nictitating membrane slid back first, then her true eyes opened, drifting without settling.

  She blinked once. Twice.

  “Tava…?” her broodmother whispered.

  Tava jolted suddenly, a small gasp escaping her.

  Her broodmother caught her, folding around her with a sob. Their broodfather leaned in too, arms wrapping around all three of them. Teko pressed his forehead to hers, his small frame trembling with leftover fear.

  Tava blinked rapidly, her eyes drifting from shape to shape. Her voice came out soft and thick, like she was still waking up. “Broodmother…? Broodfather…? What… what happened? Why is everyone…? Why is the Clutch Keeper here…?”

  The elder shifted slightly, her voice warm and steady. Lumz could see only the top of her head and the curve of her shoulders from where he was held.

  “Well now,” she murmured, “it seems you made some friends, little one, and they brought you home.”

  Tava’s brow pinched. “Friends…?”

  Her parents loosened their hold just enough for her to turn.

  From Lumz’s vantage point, he saw her head turn first, then her eyes widen as she spotted the giant rat and the smaller ones behind it.

  She went still, breath catching, not in fear but in surprise, her gaze hazy and unsure.

  The Clutch Keeper lifted a calming hand. “Easy, young one. These creatures carried you back from the crevasse below the rubbish drop. They are called Depthstalker rats, and from what we have seen they mean us no harm.”

  Tava stared at them, not shrinking back, only watching, wary and confused, her breathing steady but quick.

  Her broodfather leaned closer, his voice breaking in a way Lumz had never heard from an adult. “They carried you up from below, Tava. You… you fell.”

  Tava’s head snapped toward him. She looked at Teko next, as if checking whether he was really there.

  “But… everyone says if you fall off the edge you die,” she said, plain as anything. “Why am I not dead.”

  Lumz felt a sharp pang of guilt as he watched her say it.

  The Clutch Keeper gave a soft, surprised chuckle at Tava’s bluntness.

  “Well,” the elder said gently, “your new friends healed you, young one.”

  Tava blinked at that, slow and puzzled. Her gaze drifted back to the rats, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of it all.

  The Clutch Keeper shifted her weight and stepped forward. Lumz watched her move past the nearest spear holder, her cane tapping softly against the stone. She stopped a short distance from the giant rat, then bowed her head, her hands resting lightly on the top of her cane.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice steady and clear.

  The giant rat did not move, only watched her with its whiskers trembling in the lantern light.

  Around them, the spears lowered. Not all the way, but enough that the points no longer aimed at the creatures. Shoulders eased. A few breaths escaped the adults, quiet and shaky, as if they had been holding them for too long.

  Lumz felt his broodmother’s arm loosen slightly around him. Not much, but enough that he could shift and see more clearly.

  The smaller rats behind the giant one settled too, their bodies sinking closer to the stone. One of them gave a soft chirring sound, almost curious.

  The Clutch Keeper straightened again. She turned her head just enough for her voice to carry to the gathered adults.

  “They brought our young ones home, and healed them,” she said. “A debt we should repay.”

  A murmur moved through the crowd. Not agreement exactly, but something softer than before, something that made the lantern light feel less sharp.

  Tava leaned a little against her broodmother, still blinking slowly. Teko kept one hand on her arm, as if afraid she might vanish again if he let go.

  Lumz watched all of it from the safety of his broodmother’s embrace.