Free Rift by Kay Kenyon

down the cliffside.
    Eiko was far ahead, striding across an expanse of marsh dotted with tussocks of short, reddish reeds. The reddish clumps of the mudflats were a sullen reminder that they must find meat today.
    Red was the color of old Lithia. Her palette was brownish and dark here in the scattered saltwater reeds, knee-high and fluttering in the wind. On higherground the old hues broke out in blood red, crimson, and dark wine, where centuries-old pods and seeds found new purchase in the changing nursery of Lithia’s soils. Sometimes they followed chemical seams in the ground, or sprouted on the rotting mats of Terran meadows. Other times, a blanket of burnt umber would simply wrap around a still-living Terran tree, the two of them living together, yet apart.
    But however it erupted, Lithia’s red always meant the same thing: poison. Its toxins killed quick or slow, but the end was never in doubt. Nor could the claves raise any red thing at all, including tomatoes, berries, beets, cherries, or apples, lest their red mask Lithia’s intrusions.
    A briny wind slurred through Nerys’ hair as she hurried to catch up with Thallia. Though she put little store in religion, she made a quick prayer for a good kill and prompt departure from these flatlands, so exposed to enemy eyes from the surrounding cliffs. They had seen no evidence of their pursuers for two days, but it wasn’t just their own clave they had to evade—any other clave would also draw hasty conclusions from women traveling alone. Hatred of the orthong was reflexive. Their monstrous aspect and viciousness, along with the defection of human women, combined to inspire a virulent hate, tainted with the revulsion of bestiality. Nerys suspected that an even stronger—if unspoken—anger welled from jealousy. Those who ran to the orthong would eat well, and they would live. For that, neither the aliens nor the women could be forgiven.
    She scanned the high bluffs. Twisted trees rose in black silhouettes against the rising sun. Nerys reached into her pocket and fingered the hard, vermilion berries she and the others kept in case they had need to choose a quick death.
    Ahead, Eiko and Thallia had taken up their posts amid widely separated clumps of weeds some hundredfeet from the salt lick alcove. No sign of deer. Nerys hunkered down to wait.
    The sun was high before they spotted a group of six does emerging from a path in the headlands. The animals paused at the base a long while, as though reconsidering their venture. Finally they began a dawdling procession toward the alcove.
    Nerys couldn’t see Thallia and Eiko, but she was sure they were gripping their spears as hard as she.
    The plan was for Eiko and Nerys to run forward at each edge of the cove, forcing the deer straight out the middle, where Thallia would be waiting. Eiko would sound the cry, and on that signal Nerys would rise up, forming the left-hand flank. Thallia carried two spears in case her first missed its mark, but her first throw was likely to be her best.
    The does were in the gentle arm of the cliff, licking salt. On her right, Nerys saw with dismay that Eiko was stealing forward to a closer patch of weeds; foolish move, but it put her in a better position to block their southern escape, and the deer did not take alarm. Nerys matched her advance, but froze when one of the animals abruptly lifted its head. In an instant, all the does reacted, heads snapping up in spring-loaded readiness.
    Eiko charged. It was a bad move, with Nerys still well back of Eiko’s position. The deer pivoted in unison from Eiko, and seeing an opening between Nerys and the cliff, they sprang for it, with Nerys’ desperate spear throw falling a full twenty feet short. The women gave pursuit, but soon the deer had far outpaced them and disappeared up the defile from which they’d come. Eiko’s curses spoke for them all, but the only sound Nerys made was her stomach registering a gurgling reproach.
    Panting, they rested