Tide of Shadows and Other Stories by Aidan Moher Page A

she'd lived and I'd died—she'd be on this ship, full of piss and fucking vinegar."
    "Beautiful and fierce," Rummage said with a full smile. "She's a lot to live up to, Sligh."
    "I know," I said, more forcefully than I'd have liked. I dropped her hand, started dry-washing mine anxiously. "Don't you think I know that?"
    "I meant for me, Sligh. Your mother would be proud of who you are, you know. Not because you're here, fighting for Uwe'hhieyth, but because you're sweet and smart, and you work hard."  
    She silenced my protests with a finger pressed to my lips.
    "And the way you touch me, the way you brush your lips softly against mine before we kiss, shows how much you can love."
    I took her hand again, feeling like an idiot.
    "Tell me more about her," Rummage said.

    There was no first contact between us and the shadowborn, at least not in a traditional hey-you-let's-pretend-to-be-friends-before-I-slip-a-knife-in-your-back political sense. First contact happened on a morning, right in the midst of the rainy season.
    One moment, we were alone on our new home planet, top of the food chain and slowly recovering from our arduous trip between stars. It might be suitable to think of it as a calm between storms, but I prefer to think of it as the morning-after period for Uwe'hhieyth—hungover and hunched over a greasy plate of breakfast, trying to keep it together, reliving the highs and lows of the night before. The world was sluggish and slow around us.
    The first concentrated strikes of the shadowborn crippled us, cutting off communications with the smaller settlements like my own. The attacks on these communities were smaller, less focused. Shadowborn rolled over settlements, swarming my people in such quantities, and with such mindless ferocity, that we stood no chance.
    I was outside with my mother, collecting river water to feed our family garden, when I first heard the screams.
    At first, I thought the screaming was laughter coming from my friend next door: a girl who was rambunctious and kept a smile on the lips of almost all of the villagers. Then the scream was joined by a chorus of others, and the child's call cut short, left a ringing absence in its place. My mother moved with all the speed and instinct of a hunter. She grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me onto her back. She carried me back to our house and stopped only long enough to grab her spear and the bag of medicine and emergency supplies that she kept by the door.
    At a run, the nursery was only three or four minutes from our home, but it felt like an eternity. Each strike of my mother's feet against the hard-packed footpath sent jolts through my whole body. I tried to say something but bit my tongue instead. She held me tighter, her strong arm like steel around my chest. I could feel her heaving breaths, each bellow timed to a footfall.
    Outside the nursery, my mother put me down. I tried to fight back the tears that were crawling their way up from my stomach, caught as a lump in my throat. I was so damn scared. She crouched down to my eye level and put her hands on my shoulder. Her fingers were stronger than the fear that coursed through me. She looked me straight in the eyes. "Listen to me," she said. "Whatever happens, listen to me. Do what I say. No questions."
    I nodded. The first tear escaped and trickled down my cheek.
    "I love you," she said. She kissed me on the lips. So much love passed from her. "So much," she said. She hugged me.
    The door of the nursery opened. My aunt stood just inside the threshold, several children of varying age huddled together behind her. They looked as scared as I felt.
    "What is happening, Tsetse?" she asked. She didn't have my mother's steel.
    "I don't know," said Mother.
    My aunt was silent, at a loss. All their life, my mother had always known what to do, how to make the best decision.
    "Take him," my mother said, nudging me towards my aunt. "Take them all to the sky pod and go. Now."
    "No!" I yelled. I didn't