Chapter 16: 16: The House of Canidae

“He’s not going to listen to you with that look on your face,” Ember said. 

Naz huffed, and her already steaming expression darkened further. “He’d better listen.”

With a defeated sigh, Ember turned to face the entrance to the mammalia dorm, a pathway bordered by snowy-white aspens. Beyond was a conglomeration of smaller structures, stacked against each other and interspersed with vegetation. Platforms and rope ladders lined the trees, leading to houses for the arboreal species. It was a feat of environmental engineering, but Naz took off down the path before Ember could really admire it.

The usually gentle pisces walked purposefully through the complex, leading Ember down steps, under tree roots, and over raised bridges. With every ounce of her usual shyness converted to anger, she was a force to be reckoned with, and her inflamed stomping earned them a few odd looks. 

They finally stopped in front of a multi-story wooden building that used two trees as support. “This is where the male canines stay,” Naz spat, and before Ember could say anything she raised her fist and knocked. 

A Linnaean with yellow fur and floppy ears pulled the door open, tilting his head as he considered them. “Who are you?”

“We need to speak with Carn,” Naz replied.

He shrugged, gesturing inside. “If you say so. He’s upstairs, first door on the left.”

Ember stepped reluctantly over the threshold. The inside of the house was unclean, with half-eaten food and bottles of alcohol strewn about the living areas. A handful of Linnaeans reclined on a straw-stuffed couch, smoking something green wrapped in a paper roll. Ember recognized several of them from the club, and they eyed her suspiciously—but, luckily, they seemed too preoccupied to physically intervene. 

Naz kicked a pile of dirty clothes aside and headed up the stairwell. The door to Carn’s room was slightly ajar, and they opened it without knocking, startling him and his roommate. Naz stopped in the doorway, staring at Carn, and Ember indicated for the other canine to leave with a jerk of her head. 

Carn sat up in bed, his face flushed and feverish. “You look terrible,” Ember commented.

“What are you doing here?”

Naz stalked over to scrutinize him more closely. “So it’s true… you’re off the treatment.”

“I’m just sick.”

She let out a strained laugh, looking around the room in disdain. “I don’t think so. Why would you risk your life for this?” 

“You don’t understand anything,” Carn snapped. “This pack is my family. Besides, the counselors prescribe us way more treatment than we actually need. Do you think the athletes would be that developed if they followed those guidelines?”

“But you’re not an athlete,” Ember said quietly. “It’s clearly making you ill.”

“Maybe this is what it takes.”

“What if you’re caught?” Ember asked, “You’ll be expelled.”

“This is ridiculous,” Naz interjected. “We can help you. If you talk to an advisor now, you’ll have medical amnesty. They’ll prescribe you a higher dose of the treatment to stop things from progressing further.”

“For the last time, I don’t need help! Can both of you just shut up?”

A slap rang out as Naz hit Carn across the face. Ember stepped forward, gently pinning her arms down. “Come on, this isn’t like you,” she murmured. 

Carn turned to face them slowly, his cheek already swelling in the shape of a handprint. “You need to leave.”

Naz stared at him with disbelieving eyes, then turned her back and walked slowly toward the door. Ember watched her worriedly, knowing that the interaction must have left her in shambles. She stepped closer to Carn, lowering her voice. “Look, I know we haven’t known each other for a long time. But Naz sees you as family. If you let her go now, she might not forgive you.”

He shook his head slowly. “I need this.”

Ember held his gaze steadily. “Then I hope you can make peace with your choice.” She turned and left the room, looping Naz’s arm in her own on the way out. 

Their trek back through the dorm was subdued. Naz trembled in Ember’s grasp, her face downcast with dejection and rage. They stopped at the pathway of aspen trees. “Let me walk you to your dorm,” Ember said. “It’s not safe to cross the forest alone.”

“W-will you stop with that?” Naz asked, her voice shaking as she tried to hold it together. “It’s been a week; I’d bet that the rogue sighting was a hoax to begin with.”

Ember sighed, seeing straight through her friend’s pretended courage. “Come on,” she said evenly. “I’m going back with you, and that’s that.”

You are reading story Class Reptilia (Progression Fantasy) at novel35.com

***

Ember's stomach lurched as she looked down the tree trunk at the hundred-foot drop. “You’re only halfway to the canopy!” Hickory bellowed from somewhere above. “You won’t get any data from there!”

“To hell with him,” Morgan spat, her complexion unusually green. “He’s a goddamn tree frog.”

Ember swallowed, gathering her courage and grabbing the next rung in the rope ladder. It swung to one side, scraping her knuckles against the ribbed bark. The harness that served as her only failsafe pressed against her stomach and legs uncomfortably, but she was grateful for the reminder that it would—probably—catch her if she fell. 

She pulled herself up rung by rung, placing each hand and foot carefully. Nothing existed but the fibers of the rope against her palm and the bark in front of her eyes. She counted each step in a desperate whisper, trying to establish a rhythm. It was rigorous work; her breath burned in her throat, and her limbs soon grew heavy with exertion. 

To her surprise, her hands touched not rope, but wood: she had reached a rest platform. She pulled herself through the hole, kneeling and making sure that the rigging was intact as she waited for Morgan. Not long after, the other Linnaean came up beside her, dry-heaving over the side of the platform and cursing Hickory’s name. “I’m a land animal,” she groaned, “I’m not built for this.”

She fell silent as she struggled to catch her breath, and for the first time, Ember allowed herself to broaden her perspective. The platform was dauntingly high: three-fourths up the tree, and at least two hundred feet off of the ground. The tree moved underneath them, swaying and pulsating in the breeze. It was sunnier near the canopy, and the brightly-colored fall leaves glowed like a vibrant sunset. All around them was the chattering of animals, the rustling of leaves, and the sharp whistle of the wind. 

As she took it all in, her heart thumped inside her chest with a mixture of fear and elation. “It’s kind of beautiful, isn’t it?” 

Morgan whipped around to face her, appalled. “You’re crazy.”

Without responding, Ember righted herself on the platform and gripped the rungs again. This time, she let herself accept her surroundings. She made every step with certainty, and soon, the swinging of the ladder and the upward motion felt almost as natural as walking. Each time her muscles started to shake again, she found another burst of strength to take her just a little higher. 

It seemed like just a moment had passed before her hands touched the wooden planks of the main platform. She pulled herself through the hole and stood up against the tree, disconnecting her safety line. Far below, Morgan was still fighting to reach the top, and on the nearby redwoods, many of their peers were struggling parallelly. 

The platform on which Ember stood wrapped around the tree about twenty feet below its crown. She skirted the trunk—which was at least twenty feet in diameter—and took her first look at the aerial research station. It was a glimpse into the world far above the forest floor: an assortment of bridges, ziplines, and tree houses that spanned hundreds of feet in either direction. 

Although it was still before noon, a few Linnaeans were already checking nests and doing maintenance, as well as keeping a watchful eye on the students. For the day's assignment, Hickory had tasked them with observing three arboreal species in their natural environments. It was relatively simple, explorative work, designed for them to experience just a portion of what the station had to offer. 

A rustling sound disturbed the momentary peace. “I’m here,” Morgan gasped, collapsing on the deck near Ember’s feet. 

“Finally,” Ember teased, unclipping her from the rigging and helping her to stand up. “Let’s go west, to the edge. We’ll see more animals with fewer people around.”

“The only place I want to go is down,” she muttered, but she followed Ember as she set off across the station. The path was precarious, more closely resembling an obstacle course than a workplace. They wrote down their observations as they went, stopping to rest and to watch red squirrels chase each other across the branches.

As they moved further from the center, the platforms became narrower and the crossings more harrowing, with some consisting of just a few pieces of foot-long logs strung together. Ember had to coach Morgan across, shouting words of encouragement and promising that they had almost reached their destination. 

The last gap before the edge spanned over thirty feet. A thin zipline hung just above Ember’s head, the only manner of traversing the chasm. She clipped the safety line to her harness, and before Morgan could stop her, she grabbed the trolley handles and pushed off from the platform. 

She gasped as the metal cable bounced, dropping her a couple of feet and then propelling her back up again. The sound of metal grating against metal rang out over the trees, startling a handful of starlings from their perches. The forest floor sped by dizzyingly fast, far enough below that a fall would result in not only death but complete obliteration. 

The platform rushed closer at a breakneck pace and Morgan shouted a warning behind her. She raised her legs in a pike position, hitting the wood hard enough to feel the shock all the way up her body. She stumbled forward a few steps, gripping the trunk and the safety line to stop herself from falling over the edge. 

She doubled over, wiping her brow and taking a moment to calm her nerves. Adrenaline like she had never felt before spread through her chest and head like liquid fire. “Come on, Morgan!” she shouted, “It’s all right!”

Her partner looked at her from across the gap with her arms crossed. “I’ll just wait over here!”

Rolling her eyes, Ember turned away from the zipline and looked to the edge of the station. It was slightly eerie—no one else was around, and the platform dropped off suddenly just past the nearest tree trunk. Nestled above Ember’s head was a sizable tree house, accessible by a set of wooden steps. 

Curious, she climbed up the staircase and onto the short deck. The windows to the house were open, and inside Ember could see glass vials and insects pinned to corkwood. It’s an insectarium. After a quick glance around, she grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. It swung outward too easily, and she realized that it had been left ajar.

An uneasy feeling took hold in Ember’s chest. Every Linnaean scientist she had met was particular about their work and would have never left specimens exposed to the outdoors. She passed through the doorway warily, ready to call for help at a moment’s notice. 

It was dark and messy inside the room, and a jar that had contained a preserved stink bug lay broken on the floor. The tiny, beady insect eyes seemed to watch her as she stooped to investigate. 

She tightened her jaw. Around the pieces of shattered glass was a trail of dark red blood that led back the way that she had come. She traced it with her fingers, realizing that it was too much to have come from a simple cut. 

There was a struggle here… and someone was seriously wounded.