Fowlhunter [GL]

Ennanis decidedly did not like mining.

She had the muscle to handle the laboriousness of the work. That was not what bothered her; rather, it was the monotony of it. Where during the interview, Ennanis had had the satisfaction of showing off how quickly she could sort through a bucket in a minute, the actual job itself had her chiselling at a single square metre of rock from dawn to dusk. If she was lucky, she would manage to unearth a single chunk of ore, but most days she would be facing dirt, earth, rock and stone. Ennanis had always lived a life of glory and action, and this was the furthest thing from it.

“You got see the latest discus match between Wataron and Kanch? Crazy eh, I tell you!”

“Oh, I got no time yet. I was preparing my kakak’s birthday celebration…”

“Shit, how’s she going? Haven’t seen her since that time at the pasar malam…”

The workers often kept a lively stream of chatter going, but they all talked about things beyond Ennanis’ grasp. They also spoke in a gravelly Kancha accent—from throats and lungs developed to withstand the smoky air of the region—and mixed in words from their local language. Ennanis had picked up a few words from past missions, but she was rusty now. And the angel had never been good at chatting in the first place.

At least she wasn’t here for the workplace culture; she was here to investigate. But there was another problem. It turned out to be far more difficult than expected to find openings to discreetly run off. As a new recruit, she was under the close watch of her supervisor at all times, as well as those of the workers around her. There was never a chance for her to wander freely. For the duration of her work, she had to stay standing in front of that square of rock. When she took breaks, she sat down drinking water from her bottle in front of that square of rock. When they were dismissed, they had to march in a single file through the tunnel, flanked by other lines of workers and the supervisors, straight out of the mine and through the wire gates.

It reminded her of being a cadet again. Ennanis scowled at the marked-out wall in front of her. It was deeply gouged-into compared to the other squares of rock that the workers adjacent to her had worked on, an indicator of her exceptional progress at it. Had her old mentor, Amanita been here, she would’ve already been singing praises about how unusually patient Ennanis was being. For her efforts, she had been hoping for a promotion, more freedom, but it never came.

And the work itself didn’t make her feel satisfied when this wasn’t what she was here for. On the first few days, she had coordinated with Asha and Jemi; Jemi informing Asha of the general direction of the entity, Asha’s position lit up by the communication charm that Ennanis had placed on her. Now she no longer needed it; Ennanis had the position of their marker practically burned into her memory. But knowing the position didn’t help if Ennanis couldn’t head over there at all.

And Ennanis really hated working in the mine. It was cramped, dark, and musty, an environment which an angel could never enjoy. Her wings, flattened to her body by a cheap corset, further increased the claustrophobic feeling.

Gnashing her teeth, she raised the pickaxe again and smashed it into the wall in front of her.

Then blinked as the pickaxe splintered in her hands. In her frustration, she had misjudged her strength and angle, which had snapped the flimsy wood handle of the pickaxe in half.

All Ennanis honestly wanted to do was hurl the pickaxe at the wall and storm off. Briefly, she considered it—this job wasn’t getting her anywhere, after all. Maybe blasting a hole open in the mountainside would work better. But it was then that the worker beside her said,

“Oh, Prometheus! Are you okay?”

It was… a girl. Ennanis blinked at the sight of her. Ennanis hadn’t paid much attention to her surrounding workers, as lost in her mind as she had been.

“Um. Yeah,” Ennanis lied. She stared at the girl who had spoken. The girl had straight, soot-black hair tied back. Her eyes were hidden behind the same safety goggles that every worker had to wear, reflecting the dim lanternlight of their station. Unique to her, though, was a ventilator over the bottom half of her face, which she breathed evenly through.

The girl might have smiled, but Ennanis couldn’t tell with the ventilator. She pointed to her nametag, a scratched and half-faded plaque of plastic pinned to the pocket of her fluorescent vest. “My name’s Capri.” She squinted at Ennanis’ nametag. “Nice to meet you… Eh-neh… Ee-nah…”

“Eh-neh-niss,” Ennanis pronounced gently.

“Okay, Ennanis. Yeah. I noticed you don’t talk much,” the girl Capri said. Then she raised her palms frantically. “Uh, but that’s okay! I understand what it’s like to be quiet.”

“Oh,” Ennanis acknowledged disinterestedly. She beheld the pickaxe in her hands, then turned on her heel, muttering something like, “I have to get this replaced.”

“Just leave it, the supervisor will get you a new one.” Capri’s eyes followed Ennanis. “Uh, where are you going?”

“To find the supervisor,” she said.

“But that’s the wrong way…?”

Ennanis ignored Capri, but she made it barely around the bend before she got a tap on the shoulder. It was the supervisor himself, an extremely fussy little man. Not one thing out of line would be tolerated by him, and so Ennanis was sure that he absolutely hated her. If he’d had the jurisdiction to fire her he would’ve done so a long time ago—alas, he didn’t. She could see his eyebrows twitching with a positively ill fury upon the sight of her.

“Where are you going?” he barked at her. “Why are you going into that tunnel again?”

Ennanis balefully held out her pickaxe halves. “I needed to replace these, sir…”

“I already told you we only stick to the tunnels up to the third fork,” he shook his head angrily, scribbling away in his notepad.

“It’s hard to see, sir, and there’s just so many tunnels. It’s easy for a person to get lost.”

“Easy if they’re a dumbarse like you,” the supervisor spat. “How many times have you gotten lost already?? Do you ever learn? These tunnels lead to dangerous places. You could get yourself killed down there!”

“Sorry, sir.” Ennanis found herself wishing this supervisor cared less about his workers’ safety.

“Sorry this, sorry that—just open your damn eyes when you’re walking, will you? And don’t stand there looking stupid, get rid of that pickaxe already, we’ll get you a new one.” He turned away from her, still muttering to himself.

Ennanis feinted going back, then attempted to shimmy towards the left tunnel. But she couldn’t hide the sound of her heavy boots scraping the rocky ground. Ugh. If only she could hover.

“Where are you going!” she heard the supervisor cry, exasperated.

“Getting rid of the pickaxe, sir.” Ennanis maintained her best ‘I am an idiot’ face.

The supervisor looked like, if he could, steam would’ve been rising out of his ears like the amethyne clouds from the mine mouth. He snatched the pickaxe halves from Ennanis’ hands. “Honestly, you workers have so much brawn, but nothing ever gets through your skulls!” he raged. Then he personally escorted Ennanis back to her square of rock, and told Capri beside her: “You keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t move an inch!”

Capri nodded, and for the rest of the time, she dutifully made sure Ennanis stayed where she was. And Ennanis felt helpless. Her new pickaxe arrived, and she had to go back to chinking laboriously at the rock.

Silently, Ennanis looked in the direction she was supposed to be going. So close, yet so far away. She had to get there somehow… but how?

She took a deep breath… and closed her eyes.