A Pug's Journey (Cultivation Starts with Breathing)

Death stopped making men talk. But pain and fear opened their mouths. Slow pain, drawn out until it crossed the line between pride and self-preservation.

It was the youngest hijacker who broke. He was shaking so badly he could barely hold up his hands. He had a bruise blooming across his jaw and tears streaking the blood on his cheek.

"W-we were hired," he stammered. "Didn't know who at first. I-It came through the blackmarket handlers. Someone put out a bounty, and the job got passed down the line. We were paid upfront and w-we'll also get a reward after we got the job done."

I waited for him to continue.

The leader thrashed under my paw, still fighting, teeth bared. He spat curses at the youngest, voice muffled as I pressed him harder into the blood-slick deck.

The youngest hijacker was shaking so badly he nearly collapsed.

He glanced at his captain, but the man could barely breathe. I pushed my paw down a bit more. "Continue."

He swallowed, eyes darting. "T-The Silvanth forests. They t-told us to fly past the usual travel routes, w-where the patrols don't care about some falling debris. We w-were supposed to let the ship drop."

As he spoke, I recalled what I'd read of Silvanth, an elven forest of strict laws and numerous treaties. The outer forests were almost welcoming: tourist lodges, walking bridges, craft markets that spanned between living towers of glass and green.

But further in, they became stricter. Airships could fly above, but never dip below a certain altitude without express permission. No outsiders were allowed past the warded areas unless sponsored by a native house or directly invited by their king.

Even minor incidents, such as trash being dropped, or a slight off-course airship, were met with fines and investigations.

Silvanth's own rangers kept the peace. In this enchanted forest, their word was law, and the forest itself rarely gave up what it claimed.

The youngest hijacker tried to explain himself. "We're just hired hands. P-Please. I've got a y-younger sister."

The leader clawed at my paw, eyes full of hatred, as if he'd throttle the boy himself if he could.

I shifted my weight, making him wheeze. "Who paid you?"

He continued to tremble. "It a-all came through tokens and runners. Word around i-is that a High Sunmirean Priest w-was seen."

I let go of the leader's head, letting him cough and gasp for air. I looked outside. We were still too far above the clouds for me to see anything. I didn't know where we were.

The young hijacker stared at me, eyes wide and desperate. "Y-you'll let me live, r-right?"

The leader snarled, voice guttural, "You fucking coward!"

I was tired of the noise. I raised my paw and brought it down, swift and precise. My claws sheared through his neck. The head rolled away from his shoulders, eyes still glaring at his subordinate. The deck was quiet now except for the young man's shaking breaths.

He crumpled against the wall, pressing his hands together, barely able to look up at me. He was the last one alive.

"Course back to Sunmire," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "Take the helm. Now."

He scrambled to the controls, dragging his broken leg and tripping over bodies as he moved. His hands shook as he started flicking switches, turning the wheel, murmuring prayers to gods who would not listen.

Then something started making noise.

—Beep.
—Beep.
—Beeeeeeep.

A high, shrill note. Then more, louder and faster.

My ears flattened. I turned toward the leader's body, blood still leaking from the stump at the neck. The noise came from inside his vest. I tore open the cloth and saw the glint of a rune, deeply etched, smoldering with dull red light.

A dead man's rune, connected to others and designed to send a signal on the death of its carrier.

I had only seconds to think. "Get down!" I barked at the boy, but it was too late.

A series of explosions ripped through the airship. I felt the metal shudder beneath me, bulkheads twisting, glass bursting. The shrieking alarms were joined by the sound of tearing steel and the rush of wind. The cabin tilted, throwing me against the navigation console. The youngest hijacker screamed as he was hurled out into the open air.

The floor buckled. My claws tore into the planks, trying to hold myself upright. Another explosion roared, even closer, filling the bridge with smoke and sparks.

The world shook as the nose of the ship dropped, and gravity yanked me toward the window. Outside, the clouds whipped by, and below them I could see only green—a blur of treetops stretching for miles on end.

The ship was descending too fast. The engines were gone, the hull was splitting. I braced myself, trying to plant all four feet against anything I could get my paws on.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Just as we dropped toward the tallest line of trees, something struck us head-on. It felt like the ship slammed into an invisible wall. There was a deafening crack, a burst of blue light, and the airship jerked to a stop mid-air, splinters and metal flying.

The ship then continued to drop at a slower speed now, hitting the ground and destroying the trees surrounding it.

In the outskirts of Silvanth's Glass Quarter, three children stopped in their tracks, staring up in disbelief.

Sali, the tallest of the group and self-proclaimed leader, widened her eyes. "Did you see that? It hit the Aegis Array!" she shouted, voice shrill with awe.

"It's going to crash!" the boy, Ennor, said, also with eyes wide. "Come on!"

The three darted off the trail, twigs snapping under their feet, giggling as they went running—Elven children with no fear of what the adults might say until they were right in front of them, hearts beating with the thrill of seeing something forbidden.

Sali led the way, her braids bouncing. Ennor trailed after, slower, breath hitching as he dodged brambles. Mira, the youngest, tried to keep up but tripped on a root, earning a chorus of snickers from the other two.

"You're so slow!" Sali teased, sticking her tongue out.

"That's because Ennor's so heavy, he made the ground shake," Mira shot back, quick to defend herself.

Ennor rolled his eyes but didn't argue, too busy trying to keep up. "If you two weren't so loud, the rangers wouldn't hear us every time!"

The bickering faded as they drew closer to the crash site. The smell of scorched metal and sap grew thick, mixing with the ordinary scent of moss and earth.

The ground trembled slightly underfoot, a sign of how hard the Array had worked to slow the airship's fall.

By the time they reached the edge of the clearing, the adults were already there. Elven rangers in their green-black armor fanned out around the burning wreck, faces hidden behind mirrored masks.

"Great," Sali muttered, scowling. "Now we won't see anything. Mira, this is your fault for tripping."

Ennor elbowed her. "You always blame me. You just don't want to admit you're scared."

"I'm not scared!" Sali hissed, crossing her arms.

Ennor snickered. "Then go poke a ranger and see what happens."

None of them dared. Instead, they crouched behind a cluster of violet ferns, watching the rangers work. Adults shouted orders, searching through the wreckage, checking for survivors, or more likely, making sure nothing had entered Silvanth without permission.

A few moments passed. The excitement began to wear thin, replaced by the old fear of getting caught. "We should go back," Ennor whispered, casting nervous glances over his shoulder. "If we get caught, we'll be grounded until midwinter."

Sali hesitated, but then nodded. "Fine. Let's go—"

Whimper.

But Mira stopped, ears pricked, eyes wide. "Wait. Did you hear that?"

They froze, listening. They could hear something crawling on the ground near them. Mira crept closer to the sound, peering through the ferns until she saw it.

A small, black animal, slightly bigger than their feet, was trembling as it tried to crawl. Its face was flat, almost squashed, and it stared at her with round, glossy eyes. Blood seeped from a cut at its shoulder. It looked extremely pitiful.

"Guys," she called softly. "Come look."

Sali and Ennor joined her, gazing in surprise at the little beast. Sali crouched, reaching out with slow, careful fingers. "Is it dangerous?" she whispered.

Ennor shook his head. "I don't think so. It looks like a baby. What animal is it?"

The animal whimpered again, pawing at the ground.

"We can't leave it here," Mira insisted, already grabbing the animal gently.

After a moment's debate, Sali carried the trembling creature in her arms. Together, the three children slipped away from the crash site.

The impact was too much for my body. The fall had sprained my paws and left a deep, stinging cut on my shoulder. Blood had matted the fur there. I could feel the dull, heavy throb behind my left ear, likely something had hit my head hard. Everything ached.

I could hear voices outside the wreck. Elven rangers, if I could guess.

Orders echoed between them as they circled the airship.

However, I did not want to be found. Silvanth law was clear—no outsider, even by accident, could be allowed to wander in the inner forests.

So I forced myself to shrink. Qi folded my body into its smallest shape. This caused me to grow even weaker, but I gritted my fangs and pressed forward, crawling through splintered metal and glass.

I crawled under what used to be the navigation console, then squeezed through a jagged hole in the hull. My claws left marks on the ground and I could barely keep my breathing quiet. I slid into the brush, pushing through roots and fallen leaves.

The pain got worse. My vision blurred at the edges, but I kept moving, deeper into the shadows. I don't know how far I went. The trees grew closer, thicker, the ground soft and cold under my paws. Every step made my head swim.

I remember the world spinning, the taste of blood in my mouth. I kept crawling. And then I fell unconscious.

When I woke, it was dark. I was lying on rough boards. The air was old, full of dust and moss.

My body ached but the gash on my shoulder had been cleaned, and it smelled sort of herbal with hints of green mashed leaves around it. My paw throbbed if I moved it. But I still tried to stand, and dizziness pressed me back down.

I looked at my surroundings. I was inside a house, if you could call it that—a half-collapsed cottage, wood warped by age and weather. The ceiling had a hole large enough to see the stars. Strange charms hung from the walls: feathers, stones, scraps of colored paper.

The only light came from a single, flickering lantern.

Then I noticed that someone was beside me. An elven child, no older than nine or ten, with hair braided and ears too large for her head. She was sleeping with her head on her elbows.

I tried standing up again, but this must have woken her.

Her eyes snapped open and she stared at me for a long, silent moment. Then, without a word, she scrambled to a basket near the hearth, fumbling inside it.

She returned with a handful of berries and some small, hard nuts. She poured a bit of milk into a chipped wooden cup, set it before me, and then looked expectantly into my eyes. When I didn't move, she tried to pick me up with surprising care for one so small.

That was enough.

I squirmed in her grip and gave her my most dignified glare. My voice came out rough but clear, every syllable deliberate.

"Unhand me. I desire meat!"

She dropped me instantly, nearly stumbling backwards. Her mouth fell open and she stared at me as if I had turned into a dragon.

"You… you can talk?!"

I sat up, my body hurting again from being roughhandled and looked her dead in the eye. "Yes. And if you wish to keep your fingers, do not try to feed me berries again."

The child's shock lingered on her face. She opened and closed her mouth, eyes wide. Then, voice trembling, she asked, "Are you a spirit? What type of beast are you?"

I was too tired to argue or scold her further. I simply looked away, feeling the pain in my shoulder throb, and muttered, "Just get me meat."

The night outside was quiet. I realized, with a faint sense of humiliation, that my survival now depended on a child.