Translating Shadows
by W. F. Albone
Story and characters © 2013 W. F. Albone
Serpentine shadows slithered across the underground chamber, invading Sam's peripheral vision and slicing through her concentration. Lighting the dig site was challenging enough when the generator was working but with only torches available the environment deteriorated dramatically. The red fox twitched her tail as she tried to focus her attention on the wall carving she had unearthed. Directing her own torch back to the wall, she set about attempting to translate the inscription.
“These characters make no sense,” she muttered, “the combinations just don’t work together.” The fox’s tail twitched again, her frustration beginning to show. “Either this carving is written in some local dialect or it was made before the written language was standardised. But that would date it to 200BC at least and we've had no finds anywhere close to that era and the architecture doesn’t line up but maybe we're just not digging in the right locations or maybe the whole temple was built around this wall. But then if it was so important wouldn't it have been moved above ground to the main building?”
Sam could feel a growl building in her chest, forcing it into a heavy sigh as she turned away from the inscriptions. If she was going to have any success at translating this carving she needed Jenna. Although Sam was practically fluent with the standard tongue, Jenna had mastered the dozen or so dialects in current use, both spoken and written, as well as several others that had died out centuries ago. Sam began to scan the dig site in an attempt to locate the badger.
The chamber itself had been found by one of the research assistants a little over a week ago, when the team were still focussing much of their efforts on the more grandiose, yet historically barren, areas of the temple left above ground. The room was about the size of a school sports hall and domed, a narrow walkway of plain stone lined the outer edge of the chamber, connecting the entrance to the carvings at its rear.
At its heart was a dais, inlaid with intricate swirling patterns of jade and amber yet free from any objects. Honeycomb cells spilled out from the platform, covering the temple floor, carved directly into the bedrock and large enough to hold a person. Those closest to the dais had been filled with dirt and covered with stone slabs baring the same jade and amber patterns as the platform itself. The first of these to be excavated had uncovered the remains of a wolf, the second a bear. With each unearthing came the remains of another species. The open cells were little better.
Their walls were covered in deep scratch marks. The floors littered with broken claws and teeth. There was no evidence of any food waste and no pottery. Daggers were found, flawless and still sharp, their handles again inlaid with the same jade and amber patterns. The cells holding these daggers were often in the best condition free from scratches, claws or teeth.
Ordinarily, Sam wouldn't have had any trouble finding Jenna but the shadows were playing tricks on her sight. She couldn't rely on scent either. The lack of ventilation and close working proximity of a dozen archaeologists of different species made it impossible for Sam to sift through the fug.
“Tre,” Sam called out to the raccoon working in one of the nearby cells, “have you seen Jenna this afternoon?” The raccoon poked his head up from the cell, one eyebrow raised.
“Didn't you just ask her to check on how much longer the generator’s going to be out, like, five minutes ago?”
“Would I be asking you where she was if I had?” Sam said, her tail swiping a challenge to Tre's raised eyebrow.
“Trust me, I overhead the two of you. You sent Jenna up to check on what's happening with the generator. I don't know why you didn't just send one of the research assistants though, that's basically what they're here for,” Tre said flashing a grin to the fox as he ducked back down into the cell.
Sam's tail was swishing rapidly now, her ears laid back. She hissed, “Trevor Reuben Wilton,” a snarl creeping across her muzzle.
Tre popped his head back out of the cell. "All right, put your fangs away,” he said, half-whispering as he looked around the chamber, hoping the other archaeologists were paying little attention to the fox. Lifting himself out of the cell he glided across the tops of the narrow cell walls towards Sam. His lithe figure and natural agility allowed him to navigate the walls with ease but he kept his pace deliberate, giving Sam a moment to calm down as he approached. The snarl was gone and her ears had raised slightly, but the tip of her tail continued to twitch.
“Come closer, and turn around,” Tre whispered, “people are starting to look and will be wondering what exactly's going on.” Sam glanced around the rest of the chamber, there were now several heads creeping out from different cells looking in her and Tre's direction. Sighing once more, she turned back to the wall carving, dragging Tre with her.
Despite being huddled together the raccoon continued to whisper, “So, what exactly is going on? I believe that you don't remember asking Jenna to check on the generator, what with full-naming me and everything, but I definitely heard the two of you talking. You can hear pretty much everything that's happening in this room from those cells – though up hear it all sounds kind of muffled.”
Sam looked back at Tre, her ears had swivelled back. “Oh, Tre, I'm sorry, I know you don't like having your full name out there.”
“Yeah, Trevor Reuben doesn't really fit my image but, still, you've not told me what's going on.” Tre flashed another quick grin at the fox.
“I don't know. Since we found this chamber things have just been spiralling. I should be pleased that we've found such a unique site but actually being in here... it's disturbing. All the remains that we've uncovered and the state of some of those cells. I almost don't want to know what happened here but I'm an archaeologist and I'm here, leading a dig for the first time and it's my job, everyone's job, to find out what happened here.
“And now there are these carvings that could give us some idea of what was going on here and they're just complete nonsense, they make no sense and the one person that might be able to help decipher them is apparently out checking on the generator, on orders that I have zero recollection of giving, and I'm fed up with all these shadows coming from every direction because we're using bloody torches!”
Her body was trembling and she could feel pressure building behind her eyes. She looked away from Tre but the wall was writhing with shadows: twisting, dividing, multiplying. Sam shut her eyes tight.
Tre took her paws in his and turned her so she was facing him. “Look at me,” he said, gently. Sam slowly opened her eyes to look at the raccoon, swivelling her ears back further, feeling the tears leaving trails in her fur.
“It'll be okay. You're doing a great job leading this dig. We've only got about another half hour or so until we'd have to pack up for the day anyway so why not finish early for once? We can go take a break from this place, find Jenna, then get something to eat, okay?” Tre pulled her into a tight hug, nuzzling into the soft fur under her chin.
“Yeah, okay,” Sam whispered back, “but let me just photograph these carvings first.”
With that, she broke the hug. Tre shook his head slightly and gave her another grin as she did so but said nothing, holding his torch up to the wall to help light the picture.
***
Finishing early for the day proved to be a popular decision for everyone working on the dig. There was still about an hour until dinner, allowing the crew to unwind somewhat before reconvening in the large dining tent.
When Sam arrived for dinner, about a third of the team was there, a few heads turned as she entered. Grabbing a tray, she made her way to the camp cook, received a portion of lasagne, helped herself to a side salad and glass of water before seeking out Tre.
The raccoon was sat at the far end of the tent. The only other person at his table was one of the research assistants, a petite tiger. The tiger (paying much more attention to whatever Tre was whispering into his ear than his surroundings) jumped when Sam pulled out a chair and sat down opposite them, before blushing furiously and focussing his attention solely on the empty plate in front of him.
Tre wore a wide grin, “Apparently some of the research assistants overheard what I said about them earlier and are feeling a little undervalued.” The raccoon paused, the tiger’s blush deepening in the silence. “So, I was just offering Aron here the chance to see how valuable research assistants can be,” he said, drawing a claw slowly along the tiger’s forearm, tracing the stripe and eliciting a squeak from Aron.
The tiger muttered something about needing to write up some notes and hurried away from the table. “I’ll see you later,” Tre called after him, still grinning as he turned back to Sam.
Sam just shook her head, “You’re terrible,” she said around a mouthful of lasagne.
“I know, but I do need something to keep me occupied. Maybe you should give it a try, take your mind off this whole situation.” He scanned the tent. “How about the rabbit, two tables left of the entrance, play up the whole predator-prey thing?”
“I can’t do that,” Sam hissed after stealing a brief glance at the rabbit, “I’m his boss, it’s beyond unprofessional, and if word got around that I was using my position to sleep with the assistants, well, I won’t be leading another dig any time soon.”
“Alright then, take up with one of the locals, they’re not goin’ to run and report you to anyone at the university for some sort of sexual harassment nonsense.”
“That still doesn’t seem like a good idea,” she replied, frowning and turning back to her food.
Tre stifled a growl, “Suit yourself. Did you manage to find Jenna before you headed over here?”
The fox shook her head, “She wasn’t in her tent when I checked and the wolf working on the generator hadn’t seen her either. Hopefully I’ll be able to grab her when she comes in for dinner.”
Tre raised an eyebrow and looked down his muzzle at Sam, “If she wasn’t with us in the chamber, and she wasn’t in her tent, where is she?”
Sam shrugged, “Bathing? I don’t know.”
The raccoon stared at her, bewildered, “Why are you being so calm about this? Of everything that’s happened today, this seems like the thing to deserve a legitimate freak-out. She wasn’t with us in the chamber. The wolf working on the generator, just outside the temple, didn’t see her. She’s not in her tent. She’s not at dinner-”
“Not at dinner yet,” Sam interjected.
Tre checked his watch, “Not at dinner with ten minutes left of service. This isn’t a big camp, people don’t just go missing.”
“Exactly,” she replied, pointing her fork at him to emphasise the point, “this isn’t a big camp, someone will find Jenna and we can start working on translating those carvings.”
The racoon stood, staring down his muzzle at the fox. “I honestly don’t understand you sometimes,” he sighed. “I think I’m going to take my own advice and let my mind wander to other things.” With that, he raised a paw to Sam, gave her a brief smile and headed for the entrance, leaving the fox to the remnants of her uninspired lasagne.
***
Sam jumped as the camp's lighting flickered into life, cutting through the dense gloom of the night. The wolf must have gotten the generator running again, finally. The fox was sat on the floor of her tent, surrounded by textbooks and print-outs of the wall carvings – there'd been a brief period after dinner where the generator was operational. Crumpled scraps of paper littered the remaining floor space, each containing a failed attempt to translate the symbols.
Jenna still hadn't turned up by the time Sam had been asked to leave the dining tent and now her mind kept spinning back to Tre's concerns. Where was Jenna? It was beginning to look ever more likely that the badger had gone missing, but she wouldn't just wander off into the jungle, would she? No. Besides, the wolf working on the generator hadn't seen her leave. What if she was still in the temple, fallen into some hidden chamber, trapped, alone?
The return of the light had brought with it the shadows to dance mockingly across the tent's canvas. Patterns formed and dispersed, formed and dispersed, elusive and illusive. Sam shivered, her fur bristling; chilled in spite of the stifling heat and humidity of the jungle. The gnawing unease from the temple returned.
A group of shadows broke off from the pack, coalescing into a single shape across the entrance flap. Sam gripped the tent floor, claws piercing the canvas, eyes wide. The shadows continued to grow, taking shape, ready to birth something from the darkness. As they grew they brought with them a scent: earthy, musky, tangy, almost feline but not quite.
Sam panicked. Shadows did not have smells.
She scrambled on all fours deeper into the tent: knocking over the stacks of books, sending papers flying, trying to put as much distance between herself and whatever was coming for her as possible.
An arm detached itself from the shadow, reaching out for the entrance flap. “I'm coming in,” the shadowy figure hissed. Sam froze, whatever it was it was here. With no wait out except through the front flap, instinct took over. Claws and teeth bared, she drew herself into a crouch, ready to pounce on whatever was about to come into her tent.
The flap opened. A silhouetted figure stepped through. Sam leapt, jaws clamping down between shoulder and neck, claws raking through thick chest fur. A blow to the ribs surprised her, forcing her to bite down harder, tasting blood. The intruder yowled.
A second blow struck Sam in the stomach, harder than the first, her grip faltered. The figure grabbed the fox's shoulders, shoving her to fall winded on the floor.
“What. The. Fuck!” it yelled, only now it wasn't an it, it was a raccoon. Tre was stood in Sam's tent, shirtless and panting, one paw clutching the bite wound. There were no shadows. Tre’s blood coated her muzzle and mouth, the taste and smell overwhelming her.
She spat out what she could but needed water, desperately. She tried to get up but fell backwards, still winded, landing awkwardly on her tail, tears blossomed and she curled up on herself, sobbing, ears flat to her head, face in her paws.
“Jenna's in her tent,” she heard the raccoon say gruffly. The tent flap opened and closed and Tre's footsteps disappearing into the night.
She stayed curled up on the floor of her tent for, what had to have been, hours, sobbing to herself. The chill of the night crept into her tent, stealing the day's overbearing heat and making her fur puff up. Eventually, the camp's lighting flickered and went out. Whether the generator had died or it was simply late she didn't know. She couldn't taste blood anymore but she could smell it, feel it, dry and crusty on her muzzle.
A whispering breeze blew through the camp rousing the fox. She fumbled for her torch and turned it on. Emptying a bucket of excavation tools and grasping a brush in the process, she filled it with water, somewhere between lukewarm and cold, from one of the bottles she kept in her tent. Sam dunked her entire head in the bucket, scrubbing ferociously at her muzzle and paws, desperate to shed the dried blood and tears from her fur.
Moderately satisfied with her efforts she turned to the rest of the tent, scouring wherever she could smell blood. After some time Tre's scent became less noticeable, but without proper cleaning fluids Sam couldn’t eradicate it completely.
Setting the torch down on her camp bed Sam picked up the bucket and left the tent, dumping the bloody water at the edge of the encampment. The sky was dark, unnerving, starless and moonless and free from clouds. The camp too was pitch black and still. Sam strained her ears but could hear nothing: no movement, no snoring, no late night chattering.
She swivelled her ears back slightly, tail bristling out, bucket held shield-like, as she padded back to her tent. The only tent with a light shining from inside, only not the concentrated beam of a torch but a soft glow, radiating through the entire structure to cast stark shadows on the canvas walls. Still shadows of piles of books and archaeological equipment, the camp bed and something, someone, sat there.
Sam's grip tightened on the bucket, her pace dropping but still moving towards the tent. One paw continued to clutch the bucket as she slowly, gingerly, pulled back the entrance flap with the other. Nothing glowed inside the tent and her bed was empty, save the torch. She stepped in and picked up the torch with her free paw, shining it into every corner. Everything was as she'd left it.
She headed back outside, torch and bucket still in paw. The tent flap closed, nothing glowed. Gentle snoring perked Sam's ears from one of the neighbouring tents, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Her jaw dropped, eyes widened, ears flapping in fear and confusion. She dove back into her tent, dropping the torch and bucket, leaving the tent dark once more. The fox dove under the blankets, tail wrapped around herself, her head buried under the pillows.
***
The sun rose, pulling humidity from the ground until beads of water clung to every surface. Sam kicked off her blankets, creating a fine mist that dusted her fur and day-old clothes. She breathed in deeply, savouring the dewy scent of the morning, the iron tang of blood now just a background note under the smell of earth and (slightly damp) fox.
Rolling out of bed, Sam stretched. Her stomach was still a little tender from the punch and her tail stiff from the fall. She quickly changed into a clean set of clothes, pulled on her tool belt and left the tent. Eyes down, tail still, Sam walked through the camp. She had to find Tre, and Jenna. “Jenna’s tent’s closer,” she muttered to herself, still not ready to face what she had done to the raccoon.
The faint smell of cooking bacon drifted across the camp as the cooks began their breakfast preparations, but it was early enough that most of the crew weren’t up yet. She reached Jenna’s tent and scratched at the canvas, calling softly to the badger. There was no response.
She called again, louder this time but was still greeted with silence. Sam pulled open the entrance flap and let herself into the tent. The smell of badger was strong and the dishevelled bedding told Sam that Jenna had slept here but was now gone again; presumably on her way to breakfast or bathe.
Sam’s tail began to twitch, unease gripping her painfully once more, partly from invading her friend’s tent without permission, though there was something else. Some intangible force surrounding her, funnelling worry, panic and fear into her mind until that’s all there was.
A chink of sunlight fell onto the pile of discarded bedding, hitting something metallic to send reflections skittering across the inside of the tent. Tentatively, Sam pulled back the blankets and sheets to reveal a dagger. The intricate amber and jade swirls of the temple danced along the silver blade and ebony handle, changing partners at will.
Sam felt herself sink to her knees, head in her paws. A whine left her lips, kit-like in its purity. “What is this even doing here?” she whimpered, moving her paws to tug at her ears as she stared back at the knife. Falling to her knees had blocked the light, killing the reflections, ceasing the swirls’ dance. She shifted to allow light back at the blade but it stayed as it was: the patterns still, unmoving.
Sam reached out, holding the dagger by the handle to bring it close to her face, studying it hungrily, inhaling the scents of cold, pure steel and oil and badger. “This can’t be one of the finds,” Sam whispered, “it’s condition, it looks new, not hundreds of years old, and Jenna’s not recorded any finds like this that I know of, she’s been helping identify remains and she couldn’t of gotten it from one of the other archaeologists because every find goes straight to cataloguing so just where did this come from?” She was panting slightly and could feel her pulse in her ears. Taking a deep breath, she tucked the dagger into her belt and left the tent. She made a mental note to check with the old weasel in charge of cataloguing later.
The makeshift bathing tents were empty, as was the dining tent, save for the cooks. “Where is she?” Sam muttered to herself as she continued to pace through the camp. “She can’t have disappeared again and if she has she can’t have gone far, her scent was still too fresh in the tent and Tre must have seen her last night before…”
Guilt bore down upon her as she though about the events of the previous night but at least she knew where the raccoon would be. Sam spun round and marched back into the centre of camp, drawing several questioning looks as other members of the dig were beginning to make their way to breakfast.
She paused briefly outside Tre’s tent. There was a good chance the raccoon wouldn’t want to see her after last night. Sam didn't care. She was going to give her apologies and attempt an explanation whether the raccoon wanted to see her to or not.
“It’s Sam, I’m coming in,” she said as she pulled back the entrance flap and let herself into the tent. The stale scent of raccoon and feline musk filled the tent, eliciting a small cough from Sam, but it was hours old at least. “He’s not here,” Sam gasped, a hint of desperation and panic creeping into her voice. At least she couldn’t smell blood, which was probably a good sign.
Stomach growling, she left the racoon’s tent and roamed the camp wildly in search of either Tre or Jenna before conceding to her hunger and heading to breakfast. She needed food and coffee and sitting in the dining tent would allow her to corner the raccoon and badger, assuming either of them showed up.
Neither of them did. She was able to interrogate the tiger Tre had been talking to at dinner yesterday but he wasn’t much help (he’d headed back to his own tent after ‘having discussions’ with the raccoon). As the breakfast service finished, Sam followed the other archaeologists back to the dig site.
Sam edged her way along the outer wall of the chamber, heading back towards the wall carvings as the other members of the dig made their way to their allocated sections. She spared a quick glance at the inscribed stone she had been studying yesterday before moving on to the next part of the wall and laying out her equipment. Diligently, she set to exposing the remaining sections in the hopes that she could find something to help decipher the inscriptions.
Sam made good headway, finding the process of simply unearthing and cleaning texts that hadn’t been seen for hundreds of years somewhat therapeutic, even calming, when not concerning herself with the text itself. Inevitably, after about two hours, the strings of lights flickered and went out as the generator died once more, plunging the chamber into darkness.
Keeping hold of the brush she’d been using in one paw, she fumbled for her torch as her eyes adjusted to the blackness. Flicking it on, she directed the torchlight to the dirt smear she was focussed on removing, scarlet in the concentrated beam of light.
The darkness brought with it an unrelenting silence that burrowed into Sam’s skull until she felt as if she’d been submerged in water for far too long. After a moment’s more scrubbing the smear fell away. Sam took a step back to check the morning’s progress. Before resuming her work, she glanced behind her to check on the rest of the dig and paused.
Unbroken blackness filled the chamber. Turning slowly, she ran her torch around the dig site, searching for the rest of the crew but found no-one and no equipment save the taunting, unpowered lights. A dim glow filled the chamber as torchlight hit the dais. The jade and amber patterns seemed to feed on the light, illuminating a single figure, stood perfectly still at its centre, their striped face distorted by the coloured lighting.
“Jenna!” Sam gasped, jerking her arm, breaking the light’s connection and bringing the darkness back for a moment before angling the torch back to the dais floor. “Jenna, what’s–”
“Shhh,” Jenna raised a finger to her lips, silencing the fox, beckoning her forward with her other paw. Keeping a tight grip on the torch, Sam inched forwards along the narrow cell walls, making sure to keep the torchlight in contact with the glowing floor patterns.
Pain blazed through Sam’s ankle. Light flooded her eyes and a yowl tore into her hearing. Blinking at the rapid lighting change, it took Sam a few seconds to make sense of her surroundings. She found herself muzzle to muzzle with a dingo, both of them panting heavily.
“Get off me,” he growled, shifting out from underneath Sam. She pushed herself backwards to lean against one of the stone walls enveloping them on all sides.
“What the… where did… how…” Sam spluttered between pants, rubbing at her ankle.
“Ya fell on me!” the dingo snapped, his hackles rose a little as he attempted to control his anger.
“But there was no-one here, it was just me, and then Jenna was on the dais, and it was dark except for when I shone my torch at the floor and everything glowed but even then—”
The dingo raised a paw, stopping Sam’s rambling. “I don’t know what you’re talking ’bout,” he began, “but if you’re not goin’ to apologise for fallin’ on me, jus’ get out of this cell so I can go back to work.”
“Oh, sorry, I… it doesn’t matter,” she said, shaking her head, “Sorry.” Cautiously, she lifted herself up, testing that her ankle could support her weight. She found her torch against one of the cell walls, no longer working – the bulb must have broken in the fall. The dingo had a small set of folding steps which Sam used to make her way out of the cell before making her way gradually back to the chamber entrance.
She scanned the dais and crew several times on her way but Jenna wasn’t there. Tre was still absent too. At the entrance, she turned to address the team.
“I’m feeling rather unwell and going back to my tent. I don’t expect to be back for the rest of today,” she called, “if either Tre or Jenna show up, they are in charge of the dig, otherwise keep doing what you’re doing. If the generator goes down for any significant amount of time, feel free to call it a day and make your way back to camp.”
She received a few nods of acknowledgment from some of the nearby archaeologists before turning around and heading back to her tent, replaying the encounter with Jenna repeatedly on her way there.
She flopped down on her bed, still thinking of the events of that morning and last night. It wasn’t long before sleep took her, in spite of the heat and humidity of the full day sun.
***
Sam was woken gently by the sound of rain pattering against canvas, a paw stroking her cheek and a voice whispering her name into her ear. Her nose was filled with the peppery male scent of the person next to her. Blinking, she found herself staring into the black facemask of a raccoon.
“Tre?” she asked. He nodded, smiling, his paw still stroking her cheek. “Oh, Tre, I’m so sorry.” She pushed herself up off the bed to hug the raccoon, her eyes prickling with tears.
He hugged her back, “ ’s okay, you didn’t actually do much damage, see.” Holding her at arm’s length he rotated and flexed his injured shoulder, seemingly free from pain. “Besides, you remember that bunny I pointed out to you at dinner?” Sam nodded. “Well, I bumped into him after you bit me. Turns out he knows first aid and so he ended up looking after me last night,” he said with a wink.
A derisive snort drew Sam’s attention to the tent entrance, “Fuckin’ rabbits.” Jenna was lounging against the tent wall, grinning broadly at her double entendre.
Tre chuckled, “Jealous, Stripes?”
Jenna snorted again, “Hardly. Come on Fox, get up, you’ve slept enough for one day.”
Sam stared back and forth between the raccoon and the badger in disbelief. “But, Jenna, what happened to you yesterday? Tre said I sent you to check on the generator but you never came back and then I couldn’t find you in the camp and…”
“You’re rambling, Sam. Listen, it doesn’t matter where I was, I’ve been working. Now, I’ve gotten started on translating those carvings and they mention a secondary chamber below the dais and how to get into it. So if you wouldn’t mind getting out of bed, maybe the three of us can go find it.”
All three of them were grinning now and Sam’s tail was thumping into the camp bed. She got up and strapped on her tool belt. Her paw brushed the handle of the dagger still tucked there but she didn’t want to mention it quite yet. Her two friends were back, she could leave that awkward discussion for later.
Sam smoothed down her clothes. “Okay,” she said, “let’s go.” She gestured towards the exit and the three of them left the tent. “Do either of you have a spare torch?” the fox asked, “I broke mine this morning.”
“Nah, sorry, but we should be fine. Not been a problem with the generator all day,” Tre said. “So, what happened this morning? People are saying you were scampering around the cell walls and then fell on a dingo.”
Sam recounted the morning’s events as they made their way through camp. In the silence that followed, Sam went on to tell them of the previous night. “So, you’re hallucinating then,” Tre said, “do you think it’s from stress or some weird jungle disease?”
The fox grunted, “Neither, I wasn’t hallucinating. I know what I saw and smelled.” They were just beginning to descend into the underground chamber, the electric lights glowing brightly overhead, stretching their shadows into spindly, unnerving proportions.
Silence greeted them as they entered the chamber, broken only by the slight tapping of their claws as the trio edged their way around to stand before the wall carvings. The entire wall was exposed now – someone must have finished cleaning it after Sam had left.
“The section you started on this morning,” Jenna said pointing at the wall, “gives instructions of how to access the sub-chamber.” Jenna began to read the inscription under her breath, quietly enough that, even through the silence, Sam couldn’t hear what she was saying. The lighting flickered but stayed on, causing Sam to jump backwards into Tre.
“Easy, Sam,” Tre said. The fox set about smoothing out her tail which had bristled up when they entered the temple.
“Alright, I think I know what to do. We need to get to the dais. Don’t fall into any of the open cells, that would not be helpful,” Jenna said as she shepherded the other two onto the cell walls, Tre in the lead.
There were around six cells they needed to cross to reach the dais. They’d traversed two when the lights flickered again. This time they went out.
Panic gripped Sam. “Tre! Jenna!” she shouted into the blackness. One of Tre’s paws grasped hers from in front as Jenna gave her shoulder a squeeze.
“We’re still here,” Tre said reassuringly. Two beams of light pierced the darkness as the badger and raccoon turned on their torches.
“T-try focussing them on the dais floor. It glowed this morning. It might give us enough light to see where we’re going.”
As their torches found the amber and jade swirls, the floor began to glow, consuming the light and diffusing it back into the chamber in disturbing patterns of green and orange. Sam felt Tre’s grip tighten on her paw as they began to inch their way to the dais, slower now in the unnatural light.
Jenna kept her paw on Sam’s shoulder, not squeezing, but letting her know the badger was still there. When they finally made it to the dais, Tre let go of her paw, taking a few steps forwards before kneeling down to stare at the inlays, coruscating with torchlight.
Sam felt Jenna’s paw shift, falling to ensnare her by the waist, pulling them close as the badger’s paw began to rifle along Sam’s tool belt.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Sam exclaimed, struggling to break away from the badger’s grip but found her immovable. Jenna responded by freeing the dagger from Sam’s belt. In a single motion, the badger drew the blade, reversed the grip and sliced downwards, cutting through the tendons behind Sam’s right knee.
Yowling in agony Sam collapsed, clutching at her now useless leg, tracks of tears rolling down her cheeks. Her vision swam as she hovered at the edge on consciousness.
Looking up, she watched Jenna approach Tre, the badger’s fur glittering now with the same jade and amber swirls of the dais. The raccoon tried to get up but his legs gave out from under him. He was shuffling backwards as Jenna swept down upon him.
Sam heard him give a short, sharp cry, followed immediately by the overpowering scent of blood. Jenna rose, shaking drops from the blade and turned back to face Sam, her expression blank.
A cacophony of Sam’s ragged gasps and sobs echoed through the chamber as Jenna approached her once more. Their eyes met as the badger knelt beside the fox: Sam’s brown and shivering with tears, Jenna’s a cold swirl of amber and jade.
With her free paw, the badger cupped Sam’s cheek, her thumb rubbing at the trails left by her tears. The other kept a tight grip on the dagger, bringing the tip into position beneath the fox’s left breast. Sam cried out as the blade slid into her, angled to avoid the ribs, piercing her lung.
Overwhelmed by pain, Sam slipped into unconsciousness.
***
Sun bathed the camp in a warming orange glow as the archaeologists headed to breakfast the next morning. When she was satisfied that most of the camp had arrived, Jenna rose to address them.
“If I could have your attention for a moment. We received an urgent call from Castleford this morning and both Sam and Tre have had to fly home to attend to matters back at the university. This leaves me in charge of the dig. Please redirect your attentions to opening any of the remaining cells covered by stones slabs. When all the cells have been opened and properly excavated, feel free to return to your previous assignments.”
She sat back down and returned her attentions to the scrambled eggs and toast in front of her, leaving the crew to do the same.
The dig progressed well for much of the day with most of the remaining closed cells being opened and catalogued. For her part, Jenna spent much of the day overseeing the work from atop the dais.
Midway through the afternoon, Sam noticed a tiger, Aron, traversing his way along the cell walls toward the dais.
“What is it?” she called.
“You’ll want to see this,” he replied, “we’ve just opened a new cell and found something super unusual.”
Sighing, Jenna raised herself from the dais floor and followed the tiger back to the cell he’d been excavating.
“Well?” she asked as they reached the cell.
“Look! Two sets of remains, two different species and the cell wasn’t filled with dirt when we opened it,” Aron said, lowering himself back into the cell. “And there’s something different about the bones too, they’re super clean and they don’t smell like anything we’ve found anywhere else in the temple,” he continued, handing Jenna a femur to exam.
“Right, well, make sure you get everything catalogued properly, we’ll get a specialist to look at these bones if they do indeed prove to be incongruous with the rest of the finds.” With that she handed the leg bone back to the tiger and began to pad back to the dais.
“Don’t you think it’s odd though?” Aron called after she’d taken a few steps. “At a glance, the skeletons look to both be canid but the skull shape and feet are wrong on one, which makes me think it’s a raccoon, and the long snout and tail bones on the other look like it’s a fox. Like I said, it’s kinda weird, don’t ya think?”
Jenna shrugged, “I guess, now stop over thinking trivial matters and carry on with your work,” she said turning once again and continuing on her way back to the dais. She sat down, the swirls of amber and jade mirroring her eyes.
