Then she takes one final look toward Kitai. She nods confidently and makes a down-handed gesture to indicate that he should stay low, that everything is going to turn out just fine.
Senshi moves into the next room, spinning the cutlass in her hand, whipping it around in a figure eight pattern. Even as she does this, she is speaking in low, sharp tones to what Kitai realizes are other Rangers. She is bringing them up to speed, telling them that she is about to engage an enemy and that the sooner they arrive there, the better it’s going to be for everyone involved.
That is when Kitai sees the creature enter the adjoining room.
He cannot make out very much of it. What he is able to discern is that it’s huge, moving forward slowly on its six legs. At least that’s how many he is able to count in the shadow. It is growling low in its throat, seeing its enemy, ready to strike.
Senshi is still moving her cutlass as it darts up and down, back and forth. She spins it so quickly that Kitai can scarcely follow it, and so he is sure that the Ursa is having the same problem.
That is when Senshi suddenly lunges at it. She is endeavoring to make a quick strike, to drive it out of the room, out of the apartment.
The Ursa, at least as far as Kitai can determine, doesn’t fall for the maneuver. Instead of striking at her, it drops back several feet. A quick thrust from one of its legs sends furniture crashing about.
Senshi sidesteps, allowing the furniture to tumble past her. At the same time the Ursa tries to move in on her. Senshi pivots, jabs. The creature knocks the point of her weapon aside but fails to knock it out of her hands.
For long, awful seconds it goes on, the give-and-take, the thrusting and the jabbing. Then the Ursa bunches its powerful hind legs and lunges for her—and Senshi goes low, bringing up her cutlass in a move that is certain to impale the creature.
But it doesn’t.
Instead, the Ursa lands clear of the cutlass. It is a moment that Senshi wasn’t expecting, and she tries to bring the cutlass back around so that she can slice into the beast’s body.
Whether she is too slow or the creature too fast is something that Kitai would never know for sure. All he is certain of is that the Ursa lashes out with its clawed foot, striking out at his sister. Its claws catch her right shoulder, and she cries out in pain, stumbling backward beyond the creature’s reach.
Or at least that is her intention. Her backpedaling is too slow, her movements clearly impaired by pain.
Kitai still cannot see the monster clearly, hidden as it is behind the cloth between the rooms. But he can hear. Oh, God, can he hear. He can hear as Senshi tries to thrust forward with the cutlass, and he can hear as the cutlass is struck from her hand, landing noisily on the ground. He can get a brief glimpse of her shadow as she tries to move toward it and can hear the triumphant howl of the Ursa as it intercepts her.
Another claw lashes out, and the sound of flesh, his sister’s flesh, being torn from her body is so deep and so loud that Kitai wants to do nothing but scream in terror. And he hears Senshi’s high-pitched shriek of agony. Kitai can briefly see an image of her clutching at some point of her upper body, wherever it is exactly that the Ursa has struck her. Then, suddenly, just like that, she goes down, and that is when Kitai realizes that the Ursa has knocked her feet out from under her.
It lunges forward then, the Ursa does, and it lets out a deafening roar that mingles with Senshi’s terrified shriek.
In the distance Kitai can hear rushing feet, the shouts of Rangers. He tells himself that they’re going to be in time, that they’re going to rescue Senshi. Everything is going to be just fine, and years from now they will laugh at this time when Senshi almost died squaring off against an Ursa to protect her kid brother.
It is at that moment that Kitai wants to leap out from his enclosure and go up against the Ursa. He heard Senshi’s cutlass fall away, and he can see that it is lying not all that far away. All he has to do is emerge from his enclosure and grab it, and he can attack the Ursa himself. He is completely positive that he can take the creature out. He can attack, thrust forward with the cutlass, and strike the monster where it’s not expecting any sort of attack.
He can do it. He can take the creature on. He can defeat it. All this he knows with absolute certainty.
Instead he does nothing. He lies paralyzed within the enclosure, and hot tears roll down his face. Kitai cannot move. He is terrified.
Then there is a final crunching noise, and he can actually hear Senshi. She doesn’t sound like a Ranger at all. Instead she sounds like nothing but a terrified young girl, and a single word passes through her lips.
“Dad,” she says softly.
And it’s not because he’s just entered to save her.
Kitai knows that his father is nowhere nearby, that he’s on a “mission,” wherever that meant. Maybe Senshi is saying “Dad” because she is seeing him in her own mind, or maybe she’s apologizing because she has somehow let him down. Or maybe she’s just scared.
Then there is more crunching and a final gasp from Senshi, and just like that, she is gone and Kitai is alone in the world.
The Ursa grabs Senshi’s unmoving body with its teeth and lifts it up to within range of the nearest window. Senshi’s shredded form is thrust into view, and Kitai can hear Novans screaming in the distance.
The Novans are as fearful as Kitai, perhaps even more so. Kitai can hear their footfalls as they run, can hear the growling and derisive snort from the triumphant Ursa. Then it drops Senshi’s corpse right before Kitai’s eyes.
Senshi’s body lies on the floor, her face turned in Kitai’s general direction. He sees her stare at him in what appears to be accusation, and he wants to turn away from her. Instead, all he can do is continue to look at her, his eyes wide and horrified, for what seems like a long, long time. Finally, he manages to look away, but even then he feels as if he’s abandoning her somehow.
The Ursa leaps out of the room then to go search for other prey. Kitai lies there within the cabinet, no longer staring at Senshi but instead deeply into the narrow wall that constitutes the makeshift shelter Senshi has shoved him into.
It takes nearly an hour for the Rangers to find him. It’s nobody’s fault in particular, except perhaps Senshi’s, for she had told him to stay there until a Ranger showed up. And that didn’t happen until the Rangers who arrived had done everything they could to try to bring Senshi back. Only then did they entertain the off chance that someone else in the apartment might have managed to survive.
Until then, Kitai had had to remain there silent and immobile, his tears drying on his face.
It is not until Kitai’s mother’s arms are wrapped securely around him that he finally starts crying again. He keeps saying the same thing over and over: “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He blames himself for what has happened, but no matter how much he says it, his mother refuses to accept his apology—because she is certain that she might well have had two children die this night.
Oddly, knowing that doesn’t make Kitai feel any better.