{"id":13,"date":"2007-06-24T00:00:05","date_gmt":"2007-06-24T04:00:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/?p=13"},"modified":"2022-11-29T11:07:07","modified_gmt":"2022-11-29T16:07:07","slug":"time-of-the-grnarpart-ii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/articles\/time-of-the-grnarpart-ii\/","title":{"rendered":"Time of the Gr&rsquo;nar&mdash;Part&nbsp;II"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"serial-posts-wrapper\">\n<h3 class=\"serial-posts-heading\"><span class=\"serial-post-text\">Read more from this serial.<\/span><\/h3>\n<ul class=\"serial-posts\">\n<li class=\"serial-posts-list-item\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/articles\/time-of-the-grnarpart-i\/\" title=\"Time of the Gr&rsquo;nar&mdash;Part I\">Time of the Gr&rsquo;nar&mdash;Part I<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"serial-posts-list-item current-inactive\">Time of the Gr&rsquo;nar&mdash;Part II<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/div>\n\n<p class=\"section\"><span class=\"dc\"><strong>T<\/strong><\/span>he usual spew of blue dust fled from the approach of Jacob Matson\u2019s hovercycle as it neared the ground. The sun was halfway across the sky, but still the rancher had seen no traces of Chad. The patriarch had moved across Twin Feathers in an orderly fashion, making a methodical sweep of his land. Frustrated by the lack of results practicality was producing, Matson swung his cycle around, heading south instead.<\/p>\n<p>It had suddenly dawned on him that on the day before, Joseph and Stewart had been heading for the southern watering hole to look for Chad when they had been sidetracked by the discovery of the bones and the bizarre tracks. Checking the level on the waterhole had been one of Chad\u2019s duties the day before.<\/p>\n<p>Not exactly rational, Jacob, the back of his mind whispered to the elder rancher. Why the water hole? With a grim note of despairing finality, Matson told himself;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cEven monsters have to drink.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Another thirty minutes put the rancher within visual range of the waterhole. Light reflecting above the water line told Matson he was on the right track. He sounded his cycle\u2019s horn on the way in, but no response was forthcoming. As he neared, he could see that what he had spotted was a hovercycle. This one seemed to have hit an outcrop of rock near the waterhole, then flipped over backward and fallen into the pool.<\/p>\n<p>The rancher slowly circled the remains of the hovercycle twice. Once he was certain that it was his son\u2019s vehicle, and that no one was pinned beneath it, he backdropped his own cycle to the shore, unholstering his bolter as he landed. The half dozen kison ranged along the shore continued drinking, undisturbed by neither the machine nor its rider\u2019s approach.<\/p>\n<p>At first Matson inspected the ground near the edge of the waterhole, hoping against hope that he might find some tracks that would give him a clue as to what had happened. As he expected, the ground, long baked by the dry winds constantly coming in off the Junsuka offered nothing in the way of information. With a long sigh, Matson waded into the warm water to retrieve the downed cycle, hoping it might offer some sort of explanation.<\/p>\n<p>Halfway there, his boot came in contact with something hard\u2014something that hadn\u2019t been on the bottom of the waterhole long enough to be sucked down into its grasping, muddy bottom. Jacob Matson closed his eyes, his chest jumping involuntarily. His mouth a thin, tight line, he bent toward the water, his head shaking softly as his fingers closed on whatever he had kicked. When the rancher finally opened his eyes again, he stared at the object in his hand\u2014a dripping, human skull stripped of its meat.<\/p>\n<p>Sinking to his knees, Jacob Matson cried the tears for his son that the day before he could not find for himself.<\/p>\n<p class=\"section\"><span class=\"dc\"><strong>A<\/strong><\/span>lan Sanders rode nearly a half a kilometer out in front of the sheriff and his deputies. While those following him were maintaining a safety height of some thirty feet, Sanders stayed less than four feet from the ground, his cycle barely skirting the high grass. The hunter was searching for clues, true enough, but it was not the reason he was doing so in such a risky fashion. Sanders was a hunter. A decade earlier he had left his family and friends and all he knew behind on Earth to seek the thrill of tracking new and different life forms. He lived for the hunt. It was his life, his reason for being.<\/p>\n<p>Sanders did not necessarily have a need to kill those things he hunted. It did not bother him, of course, spilling the blood of brute animals, but slaughter held no great thrill for him, either. Plunging into oceans, ranging across mountain tops, tracking all manner of beasts in forests, lakes or through the skies, it was the chase that filled the hunter with passion. Rooting them out, finding them no matter how they hid themselves, beating creatures designed by the whimsical natures of a thousand different worlds at their own games\u2014that was what Alan Sanders lived for. It was why he had come to Byanntia in the first place.<\/p>\n<p>This is it, he thought, his lips unable to keep from curling into a smile. The old rummer was right. This is going to wrap the past in a ball and trash it. The whole droking universe is going to know my name after this.<\/p>\n<p>Sanders could not forget his good fortune. Months earlier he had run into one of the few Kuzzi warriors that had ever left Byanntia. For the price of three drinks, the old alien had told the hunter the story of the Gr\u2019nar. Sanders had not been certain he believed the trembling sot, but he was a good judge of beings\u2014human or not, sober or drunk. Even if he was being misled, Byanntia had promised to hold enough new creatures to at least give him some well\u201d\u2018needed practice. Zoos, scientists, collectors\u2014there was always someone looking for something different. He knew he could force a profit out of any new planet. Then, on his second day on\u201d\u2018world, he had been called by the local lawman who had shown him the footprint\u2014a mark revealing design characteristics common in creatures possessing both strength and speed. The footprint screamed to him\u2014carnivore. Predator.<\/p>\n<p>And, he speculated, if even half of what that wrinkled drunk told me is true, this is &#8230;<\/p>\n<p>Sanders stopped speculating, his mind going instantly on the alert. Something still and bright had caught his attention, something living, but motionless, perched halfway down a sloping ridge off in the distance. The hunter raised his arm to indicate to those following that he had found something, then gunned his engine heading straight for it at top speed.<\/p>\n<p>As he drew nearer, the distance setting of his goggles focused on the object. It was a blonde woman in a yellow jumpsuit laying face down in the scruff. Sanders studied the terrain as he closed on the unmoving figure. His instincts told him it was safe to approach. He could feel that nothing was lurking nearby waiting to pounce.<\/p>\n<p>The hunter rolled the woman onto her back, brushed the hair out of her face. Her pulse was normal. She was alive, but her breathing was shallow. Fearing she might be in a coma, Sanders pulled his canteen from his cycle and splashed her face, washing away the caked blood smearing her forehead.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIs she alive?\u201d asked Duncan as he set his hovercycle down next to the pair.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d acknowledged Sanders. Pointing toward the woman\u2019s head, he said, \u201cAs best I can see so far, she only has a single wound on her left temple\u2014here\u2014as if she was struck a blow. She\u2019s lost blood, but I her color\u2019s good, so I don\u2019t think it was much. She\u2019s probably not too badly off.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWas it the thing?\u201d asked Pete.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo,\u201d answered the hunter. Pointing up the slope, he said, \u201clook at the scuff marks. That\u2019s her trail. She slid down over the edge from above. Probably fell during the night. She got here on her own, then collapsed.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duncan sent two of his men up the hillside to see where the tracks came from. The two started up the gradual slope carefully. The hillside was a mixture of baked clay and sand. One wrong step would send a climber sliding back to the bottom in an unstoppable rush. Knowing it would take his men a few minutes to make their ascent, the sheriff turned his attention back to the others. As he did, the girl suddenly responded to Sander\u2019s ministrations. She sat up quickly, then yelped as she winced from the pain in her head.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019d better take it easy,\u201d cautioned the sheriff.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt killed them,\u201d she said simply in a quiet monotone. \u201cTore them all to pieces. Threw them around like dolls. It smashed them and cut them and, and, and it, it &#8230;\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Then the blonde woman went silent once more. Leaning against Sanders, she stared forward unblinking, either lost in thought, or in the avoidance of it. The hunter asked Duncan, \u201cAny idea who she is?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDelilah something or other,\u201d answered the sheriff, searching his memory. \u201cSquatter. Bunch of about thirty came out together from Earth a couple of months back. Romantic idiots, in love with the notion of the Old West, or something. Thought they were all goin\u2019 to be range kings in six weeks. Mostly they\u2019ve just been sort of a nuisance to the real ranchers. This one don\u2019t have any family if I remember correctly.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBrave kid,\u201d said Sanders, sympathetically, \u201ccoming out here on her own.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFrom what I hear tell, she didn\u2019t have much choice. Step\u201d\u2018father back on Earth taking advantage, mother not sticking up for her &#8230; just decided one day that anything was better than that, and she joined up with a group that needed another body to tally their bulk passage.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Sanders did not feel the same level of disdain for the girl that the sheriff obviously did. With a modicum of admiration in his voice, he said, \u201cStill, when you\u2019re in a bad situation, it takes guts to do something about it instead of just taking it. Even running away is better than doing nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt came into our camp last night,\u201d the girl said in a droning voice. Still unblinking, unmoving, she rambled, \u201cIt killed everyone. Everyone. Blood everywhere.\u201d Then, she turned her head, her eyes seeming to focus on Sander\u2019s face.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe couldn\u2019t do anything to stop it\u2014stop the blood. Nothing can stop it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDelilah,\u201d Sanders spoke slowly and clearly in a friendly, fatherly tone. \u201cWhy couldn\u2019t you stop the creature? Was it too large? Too strong? Too fast?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou don\u2019t know what, Delilah?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t know how big, or fast. Don\u2019t know anything about it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The sheriff\u2019s eyes closed to slits. His look caught Sander\u2019s eyes, but the hunter did not turn his attention away from the girl nestled against his arm. As she continued to look up at him, Sanders asked, \u201cWhy, Delilah? Why don\u2019t you know anything about the creature?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCouldn\u2019t see it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBecause it was so dark?\u201d suggested Duncan.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo,\u201d answered the girl calmly. \u201cPlenty of light from the fire. Just couldn\u2019t see it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Suddenly the sheriff\u2019s attention was drawn to the top of the ridge. His men had reached the top and were signalling frantically for the others to join them. Duncan headed for his hovercycle, calling up to his deputies as he walked across the plane.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat is it? What d\u2019ya find?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s a camp, sheriff. What\u2019s left of one. There\u2019s bodies everywhere. Bones, too. Human. Lots of \u2018em. It\u2019s pretty fierce up here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe couldn\u2019t see it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Sheriff Duncan stopped and spun around at the girl\u2019s voice. Angrily, he growled at her, \u201cListen up, you little fool. Start makin\u2019 some sense. What the hell attacked you people? What was it? Tell us, for God\u2019s sake. You said there was plenty of light. Well, if there was plenty of light, why couldn\u2019t you see what it was that killed all your friends?!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBecause,\u201d answered Delilah in the same cold, absent voice. \u201cIt was invisible.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"section\"><span class=\"dc\"><strong>S<\/strong><\/span>helby Matson and her sons flew through the entrance to the Valley of the Twelve Peaks. Ahead of them, two Kuzzi tribesmen stood guard over the narrow passageway. Even after more than twenty years on Byanntia, Shelby still felt her breath catch at the sight of the native warriors. The pair on guard were typical specimens\u2014both roughly eight and a half feet tall, with short coats of horizontally striped fur covering their bodies.<\/p>\n<p>The blue, black and grey markings were a natural camouflage that blended well with the alien landscape. The male\u2019s heads were surrounded by a thick and glossy black mane. A single stripe, usually black, parted their foreheads and muzzles while other colors varied across the individual Kuzzi\u2019s faces. Their chins and jaws were covered with the longer black fur of their mane, setting off their muzzles which were accented by hard, blue lips.<\/p>\n<p>Most Kuzzi males had very broad shoulders as well as chests that rippled with layers of muscles. They were generally short\u201d\u2018waisted, with powerful, backward jointed legs. Their forward facing feet were quite human in design, save for their feline toes and claws. Their hands followed along much the same lines.<\/p>\n<p>The two Kuzzi on guard were using their hands at the moment, holding their purjungs\u2014long spears with multiple curved blades\u2014to the ready. Shelby and her boys knew what their poses meant. Dismounting their hovercycles, translator headsets already adjusted and in place, the trio bowed formerly, then Joseph and Stewart stood back as their mother addressed the guards.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI am Shelby Matson, come with my sons to seek an audience with Chief Bollatu. We desire his council on a most important matter which not only concerns us, but the Kuzzi nation as well.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWait here,\u201d answered the taller of the guards who turned and walked into the valley. The other warrior\u2019s nostrils twitched. He sniffed the air, seeking clue about the visitors\u2019 intentions. His yellow and black eyes never strayed from the trio. He knew the human woman\u2014had seen her in council with Bollatu more than once. Her familiarity meant nothing to the guard, however. Humans were not to be trusted without caution. It had been a hard\u201d\u2018learned lesson years earlier for the Kuzzi. There were none who wished to learn it anew.<\/p>\n<p>Shelby pretended not to notice the guard\u2019s examination, choosing instead to look upward at the white and clear crystal peaks stretching hundreds of feet upward there at the edge of the valley. Sunlight was pouring through the massive quartz\u201d\u2018like formations, creating a dazzling abundance of rainbows throughout the valley. The refracted light help disguise the entrance to the Kuzzi\u2019s fortress home, just one of the natural defenses that had made the valley the perfect shelter for the Byanntian natives for countless centuries.<\/p>\n<p>The first guard returned after several long minutes. He waved Shelby and her sons inside, then escorted them through the valley to the Kuzzi marketplace. Female Kuzzi, the races\u2019 artisans and merchants, were on all sides of the quartet, buying, selling and bartering their wares. Byanntia\u2019s indigenous sentient females usually ranged from seven to eight feet in height. They were similarly marked as the males of their species, but they did not share their mates\u2019 manes or massive shoulder structure. Their smaller bodies were still layered with sinewy muscle, however.<\/p>\n<p>Stewart stared at several of the females for a moment\u2014specifically at the three pairs of small breasts that lined the chest of each. All Kuzzi went naked throughout the year, their short fur being all they required in the way of protection from the elements. Even the jewelry they crafted was mostly cerimonial and reserved for only certain times of the year. The human custom of clothing oneself confused and amused the Kuzzi. The only material used by the natives, for their pouches and litters and their great nomadic tents, came from the skin of a colossal fish that lived mostly in the northern seas. The Kuzzi word for the leviathans was unpronounceable by nearly all humans, so the Firsts had settled for renaming the great fish Melvilles.<\/p>\n<p>Joseph studied the draping walls of the tent to which he and the others had been lead, looking for the telltale vein lines in the fabric. Like most humans, his contact with the Kuzzi was limited, and the idea of living in fish skins had always fascinated him. He turned his attention to their host, however, as they all entered the main chamber of the tent.<\/p>\n<p>Shelby and her sons were led to the center of the room where a number of Kuzzi\u2014male and female\u2014sat in a circle on round mats woven from various wild grasses. As one the natives all stood and faced the ranchers. Shelby and the boys made the proper bow to which the Kuzzi responded by bowing in return, then returning to their seats. At that point, a female stepped forward from behind those seated and approached the Matsons.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWhat wisdom do you seek from great Bollatu?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe seek several things. First, of greatest importance to me, we are searching for my son, Chad Matson. He has been missing for more than a day. We were hoping some member of the great Kuzzi tribe might have seen him.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>At that point a male\u2014older, larger than the others\u2014stood and approached Shelby.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo Kuzzi see your cub these past two suns, Shelby Matson.\u201d As the rancher made to interrupt, the male continued. \u201cNo Kuzzi leave the summer lodge since beginning of the summer cycle.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBut,\u201d questioned Joseph, half\u201d\u2018confused, half\u201d\u2018suspicious, \u201cthe Kuzzi always hunt heavily in the summer months. What\u2019s so different about this year?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThis,\u201d answered Chief Bollatu, \u201cis year of the Gr\u2019nar.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s a grrrr\u201d\u2018nar?\u201d asked Stewart, repeating the foreign word as best he could.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGr\u2019nar is evil god of the Junsuka. He come forth every eighth handful of cycles.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Joseph did the math quickly in his head\u2014the Kuzzi\u2019s four\u201d\u2018fingered paws had lead them to create a numbering system in base eight. Every sixty\u201d\u2018four years, he thought.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe harmony of the plains is destroyed at his approach. Blood flows. Terror fills the skies as tears flood the plains.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Joseph did not believe a Kuzzi god was killing his father\u2019s kison\u2014but it was a big universe. It was possible something lived on Byanntia the settlers did not know about yet. Something that followed a longer cycle than the seasons of the year.<\/p>\n<p>That means, thought Joseph, if Bollatu is onto something here, the last time this happened was sixty\u201d\u2018four years ago\u2014decades before the First arrived.<\/p>\n<p>Shelby\u2019s commlink hummed. She punched the uplink button, announcing, \u201cShelby Matson.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s Jacob, sweetheart\u2014you got the boys with you?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, we\u2019re at the Kuzzi summer lodge.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGet back to Twin Feathers\u2014<em>now!<\/em> I\u2019ll explain everything when I see you at home. Keep your guns handy and stay high off the ground. The shield will be up at the ranch, so give a drop\u201d\u2018call at the perimeter.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cJacob, I don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m with Duncan and his deputies\u2014we met up out at the south waterhole.\u201d His command voice softening, Matson explained, \u201cThere\u2019s something loose on the plains, Shelby. Something murderous. Warn the Kuzzi, but leave now\u2014please.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe Kuzzi already know.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Shelby Matson\u2019s commlink went quiet for a moment. Then her husband\u2019s voice returned, colder than before.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI should have thought of that,\u201d he said cryptically. \u201cYou go home\u2014take the boys with you. Tell Bollatu to expect me. I\u2019ll be there in twenty minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Shelby\u2019s comm went quiet once more.<\/p>\n<p class=\"section\"><span class=\"dc\"><strong>S<\/strong><\/span>anders moved across the range by himself, his spectrum goggles constantly shifting the available light bands. Now that Duncan and his men knew the creature was invisible the hunter saw no reason to continue pretending he did not know, either. Not that the lawmen realized he had come to Byanntia equipped with prior information. Sanders had not pulled the goggles out until he was alone. The sheriff and his men had been tied down by the discovery of the slaughter at the squatters\u2019 camp. As much as the sheriff might have wanted to continue on with the hunter, his duty held him at the disaster site. The terrible attack had to be investigated\u2014the dead catalogued.<\/p>\n<p>Duncan had ordered Sanders to remain on\u201d\u2018comm, however. The hunter was to report any sightings, as it were, of the thing that had left the barest remains of some thirty human beings on the plain above the spot where Delilah Carter had been found. The lawman had not veiled his threat of taking action against the hunter if he did not comply.<\/p>\n<p>Sure, Sheriff, thought Sanders with a smirk, I\u2019ll get right to you, as soon as I\u2019ve got an invisible carcass to take off this rock with me.<\/p>\n<p>It had been some hours since the hunter had set out on his own, following what few tracks the thing had left behind. They had faded quickly, however, leaving Sanders to simply guess at which direction the horror might have taken. So far he had not found any indication he was getting closer to the monster of the plains. Delilah\u2019s story had put the attack on the squatter camp more than half a day previous, making what few claw prints and broken grasses Sanders had found to follow an extremely cold trail. The hunter did not mind, though. He had a plan.<\/p>\n<p>The information Jacob Matson had commed to the sheriff had helped Sanders immensely. The hunter had been told by the old Kuzzi warrior that his tribe moved away from the desert into the northern mountain canyons whenever the Gr\u2019nar was to return. Generally, the creature preferred to hunt where it was warmest. The slaughter of the squatters had taken place at an extreme southern latitude from the Twin Feathers ranch, close to the Junsuka. Matson had confirmed that his son had been killed at an extreme southern latitude from the Kuzzi summer lodge. Which meant that the creature had moved east, away from the Kuzzi lodge\u2014toward New Dodge.<\/p>\n<p>Interesting, mused the hunter. With the Kuzzi safe in their lodge for the duration, could this mean the Gr\u2019nar knows about the changes that have taken place in its world since it last went to ground?<\/p>\n<p>Spotting a shattered copse of stinger trees, Sanders dropped his hovercycle down to investigate. In the center of the ruined grove he found what he expected\u2014the glimmeringly clean skeletal remains of half a dozen kison.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou sure are one hungry son of a bitch,\u201d said Sanders aloud as he surveyed the carnage. The monster had eaten tons of meat in the last few days. Bending over one of the larger piles of bones, he asked, \u201cWhen the hell do you stop for a breather?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>More to the point, wondered the back of the hunter\u2019s mind, when do you take a dump? Where does this thing leave its spoor? Does it ever? And how does it move about? It always leaves tracks at the kill sites, but nothing you can follow anywhere. It just shows up, kills, eats, and &#8230;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDisappears.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Sanders\u2019 mind dragged him back to the bar where he had met the elderly Kuzzi. That was what the alien had told him. That was why he had left Byanntia. The Gr\u2019nar came every sixty\u201d\u2018four years. It ate everything in sight\u2014slaughtered every living thing in its path until the summer ended\u2014then disappeared for another sixty\u201d\u2018four years.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBut he said you disappear after every attack, too.\u201d Sanders spoke aloud to the fields all around him.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSo how do you do it?\u201d he called out as he stood up from his examinations. \u201cWhat\u2019s your secret? Do you fly? Burrow? Swing through the trees? Curl up into a ball and roll across the land\u2014what? What\u2019s your gimmick?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And then, suddenly, the ground beneath Sanders trembled slightly. As grains of sand bounced between the blades of grass, the hunter stepped quickly to his hovercycle. Pulling his over\u201d\u2018sized Hoffman Brothers Wide\u201d\u2018Bore from its sheath, he tabbed the sideprime calling for explosive rounds. Doing a rapid but thorough perimeter swing, Sanders scanned the grasslands in every direction, looking for some sign of the great beast.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCome on, I know you\u2019re here somewhere,\u201d whispered the hunter, his nerve ends tingling with his favorite thrill. \u201cIt\u2019s all over now, Gr\u2019naree. So, why don\u2019t you just come on out and make this easy on both of us so I can head back to New Dodge and start buying rounds of drinks for the house?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>With nothing moving in any direction, Sanders closed his eyes for a moment\u2014listening. He threw his senses outward in all directions, straining to catch some tiny scrape or tread or whisper that would identify his target. The hunter could tell the creature was somewhere nearby\u2014could <em>feel<\/em> the proximity of his target as he had hundreds of others on a score of other worlds. Licking his lips, he opened his eyes and whispered;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSo where are you, you bastard?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And, as if in response, the ground beneath Sanders opened and massive, invisible fangs separated the hunter\u2019s legs from his body.<\/p>\n<p class=\"section\"><span class=\"dc\">\u201c<strong>D<\/strong><\/span>amn fool,\u201d cursed Duncan. Staring down at Sanders\u2019 stripped remains, he asked the stark scatter of bones, \u201cDamn, greedy, arrogant stupid son of a bitch\u2014how\u2019s it feel to be dead?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>When the hunter had not responded to any comm messages, Duncan had traced the retrieval signal from his rented hovercycle. Communicating with Jacob Matson on his way to search for Sanders, Duncan invited the rancher to meet him along the way.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHow\u2019s the interrogation going, sheriff?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t start on me, Jacob,\u201d snarled Duncan. \u201cBad enough everything else that\u2019s happened. Now I got me a dead offworlder. If you think I want a squad of Rim agents pokin\u2019 around here, you\u2019ve been punchin\u2019 kison too long.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMight be welcome,\u201d offered the rancher, spreading his hands to indicate the carnage all around them. \u201cConsidering &#8230;\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe\u2019ll handle this ourselves,\u201d snapped the sheriff defiantly.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYeah,\u201d answered Matson with a weary sigh, \u201cwe\u2019ve been doin\u2019 a bang\u201d\u2018up job so far.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duncan stared at the elder rancher, but said nothing more. He knew Matson was not blaming him for anything. The old man only wanted to see dead the thing that had murdered his son. Deciding that continuing his investigation would be more profitable than further bickering, the sheriff returned to studying the bones of Alan Sanders. Scratching at his head, he noted;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m not sure what this means, Jacob, if anything\u2014but did you take any notice of the fact that this yahoo\u2019s legs are far off from the rest of him?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Matson had noticed that, but had made nothing of it. Now, at the sheriff\u2019s questioning, he turned his attention to it once more.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAll right, so the thing took his legs off first,\u201d said the rancher. \u201cSo what? What\u2019s that tell us?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m not sure it tells us anything.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cEverything we see tells us something. The question is, is it anything we need to know? Like, did you check his weapon? Did he get a shot off at this thing?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNope\u2014the entire clip still registers solid.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Matson took the weapon from the sheriff, turning it over in his hands. Making a gesture with his eyes that indicated he did not know what to make of the loaded weapon, the rancher slid it into the side sheath on his hovercycle. After that, both men stopped to think. The creature was invisible\u2014it was possible the hunter never had a chance to frame a shot. But still, even if the thing were quiet enough to sneak up on Sanders, it might have taken a chunk out of his back, or taken off his head, or possibly an arm in its attack. But his feet?<\/p>\n<p>Jacob Matson went slightly pale. Turning to Duncan, he ordered the lawman to mount his hovercycle even as he did the same. As the two men took to the air, the rancher explained.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLook for a depression, in the ground, I mean. A hole, or burrow &#8230; anything that looks like it was just recent filled in.\u201d It only took the two men a moment to find what they were looking for\u2014a sunken spot in the ground nearly two feet across. Sand and loose soil had already begun to blow over it. Indeed, if the range grass had not been somewhat smashed in that area, the men would not have noticed it. As the two landed near it, Matson said, \u201cWhen you reached me I was out at the Kuzzi lodge. Wanted to question them about this thing. Figured they should know more about it than we do.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The rancher broke out the short utility shovel from his hovercycle\u2019s tool bin. As he started to dig into the depression, he said, \u201cDamn furheads didn\u2019t know shit, really\u2014or at least they weren\u2019t sayin\u2019. But one thing struck me funny. Whenever they referred to the thing, the translator would spit out the word \u2018snake.\u2019 I didn\u2019t think much of it then &#8230;\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Suddenly, Matson\u2019s shovel hit something mixed in with the sandy soil. Less than two feet from the surface, a black core of manure began, one filled with bits of cloth.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell,\u201d said the rancher, his eyes narrowing to dark slits, \u201cnow we know why it doesn\u2019t seem to leave too many tracks.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"section\"><span class=\"dc\"><strong>M<\/strong><\/span>atson returned to Twin Feathers alone. Duncan had been forced to stay behind with Sanders\u2019 remains\u2014an offworlder\u2019s death meant plenty of United Rim paperwork to be processed before the next Enforcement ship made port.<\/p>\n<p>Well, that\u2019s his concern, thought the rancher as he landed his hovercycle in the main stable yard of his spread. I got other things on my mind. Like takin\u2019 care of the son\u2019va bitchin\u2019 thing that killed my son.<\/p>\n<p>Leaving his flier where he landed, Matson headed into the stables. Going straight to the last stall, the rancher called out to his favorite horse.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOkay, girl\u2014I\u2019ve got a job and a half for us today. Are you ready?\u201d The large, grey and tan saddle horse gave a nod of its head that coaxed a thin smile from Matson. As the rancher pulled down his no nonsense working saddle, he congratulated himself once more on insisting in the early days of their expedition that horse embryos be included in their cargo.<\/p>\n<p>Most of the other members of the First had been happy to rely on groundcars and hovercycles, but Matson had known better. Despite their programmability, mechanical transports were not the answer to every problem presented by ranching on Byanntia. The kison were often easily spooked by machines of any kind, and hovercycles had proved disastrous on inclines of any great steepness, let alone inside the cool, but narrow range passes the kison headed for whenever the summer temperatures began to climb.<\/p>\n<p>As Matson finished with his saddle\u2019s cinches, he whispered to the mare, \u201cBesides, you\u2019re smarter than any damn computer, ain\u2019t ya, girl?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Again the horse nodded. Matson\u2019s mouth drew to a tight line, his smile grim, lips pursed, as he nodded in return. Grabbing up Alan Sanders\u2019 Hoffman Brothers Wide\u201d\u2018Bore, he slid it into his saddle\u2019s sheath even as he hung a good length of plas\u201d\u2018hemp line over the horn. Then, throwing himself up into the saddle, he headed south out into the open range\u2014ready to end things one way or the other.<\/p>\n<p class=\"section\"><span class=\"dc\"><strong>I<\/strong><\/span>t did not take Shelby Matson long to piece together what was happening from the clues she had. When she saw her husband\u2019s abandoned hovercycle in the main yard, then discovered his favorite mount, Dancer, missing, she knew Jacob had ridden out to track the beast. What she did not understand was why he would trade his flier for a horse. Getting Sheriff Duncan on the comm had explained that to her. Instantly she called her remaining sons to her.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cStewart, I want you to get the hands together. Tell them that thing is still out there and moving toward New Dodge. I want Twin Feathers on triple watch tonight\u2014every man on a cycle and scatter patrolling\u2014full lights.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSpit,\u201d answered the boy. \u201cThat\u2019s a lot of credits. Cheaper to run the shields at full.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBesides being invisible, apparently the damn thing travels underground, Stew. Shields won\u2019t stop it. Tell the men to be prepared.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>As both boys adjusted to the new information, their faces showing their obvious discomfort, Shelby told her oldest boy, \u201cYour father\u2019s ridden out to find the creature. I think he &#8230;\u201d her voice catching, her words clogging in her throat, the woman veered off from her thought, saying instead, \u201cyou and I are going after him.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDad won\u2019t like us interfering with whatever he\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cJoseph,\u201d snapped the woman as she pulled her personal bolt thrower from a drawer in the living room desk, \u201cI\u2019ve been interfering with your father\u2019s plans whenever I damn well felt like it for a hell of a lot longer than you\u2019ve been around to warn me about it. And right now he\u2019s got a pulling long lead on us, so if you want to see your father alive again I suggest we get moving.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And with that, Shelby Matson headed for the front door without bothering to look to see what her boys were doing. She knew them both. She knew what they were doing. Just as she knew what she was doing.<\/p>\n<p class=\"section\"><span class=\"dc\"><strong>A<\/strong><\/span>ll right, you damn bastard, thought Matson, where the Hell are you, anyway?<\/p>\n<p>The rancher sat atop Dancer while the mare drank from the southern water hole. Matson frowned that Chad\u2019s flier was still there, uncollected.<\/p>\n<p>Well, why not? the rancher asked himself sadly. My boy\u2019s remains are still here. What difference does it make if his cycle is still here?<\/p>\n<p>Matson had ridden the northern edge of the Junsuka for several hours, waiting for the Gr\u2019nar to show itself. His assumption was that the creature had stumbled across Chad at the water hole by accident. It had wanted a drink and had found a meal instead. Chad was the only victim who had been airborne when killed. The various kison, the squatters, Sanders\u2014all of them had been on the ground when attacked.<\/p>\n<p>Duncan and his deputies and Sanders, the bunch flew over the whole area all day without a stir. But, the hunter lands for five minutes and he\u2019s dead. That damn thing can hear through the ground.<\/p>\n<p>Matson pulled back on his reins, forcing Dancer to rear, making the mare stamp the ground several times hard.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou want something to hear,\u201d he said, \u201chear that.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The rancher repeated the maneuver several times. Then as he paused to listen, Dancer suddenly backed off from the watering hole. The horse began spinning in short, nervous circles, throwing her head this way and that. Matson smiled. Taking the reins in one hand, he snapped them meaningfully, starting the horse toward the blue outcropping nearby.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cKnew you\u2019d sense the damn thing, girl,\u201d he said soothingly. \u201cKnew you wouldn\u2019t let me down.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The rancher lead the mare up onto the sloping pancake\u201d\u2018shaped rocks, hoping he was getting the beloved animal out of harm\u2019s way. Then, he slid out of the saddle, pulling Sanders\u2019 Hoffman Brothers Wide\u201d\u2018Bore from its sheath. The weapon held two hundred rounds, ammunition that could be primed to different functions as required. Assuming he needed real stopping power, Matson tabbed the sideprime calling for explosive rounds.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Then, he dropped to one knee and waited.<\/p>\n<p>The rancher kept his eye to the weapon\u2019s roving sight, watching the ground for movement. He nudged the viewfinder\u2019s automatic scanner to its highest setting, waiting for the slightest unnatural tremor in the grass. The seconds ticked by, forming one minute, then another. Matson let his eyes dart to the side for an instant, looking at Dancer. For a moment he wondered if he had misread the animal\u2019s panic. Then suddenly, he knew he had not.<\/p>\n<p>A trilling roar echoed up out of the ground. As Matson wheeled in the direction of the muffled growl, the earth split open, a wide spew of soil and sand flying outward on both sides of the cavity. Closing one eye, the rancher tightened his finger on the trigger.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDie.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Five rounds erupted from the Hoffman Brothers rifle. Matson spaced them out along a line at roughly one foot intervals. Only two of them missed their target.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGreat, jumpin\u2019 Jesus &#8230;\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The air filled with a wild series of shrieking bellows. Spews of dark fluid erupted from seeming nothingness, splashing up and around in all directions. Dancer screamed with fear, scrambling futilely in an attempt to gain higher ground. Earth and rocks flew through the air in response to the creature\u2019s thrashing. A sizeable chunk of stone slammed into the side of Matson\u2019s head, knocking him over. The rancher did not let the injury stop him. Crawling to his knees, he fired another series of five shots. With the creature now out of the ground and thrashing wildly, only two shells of the second volley found their target.<\/p>\n<p>The explosive rounds blasted huge slabs of muscle and fat out of the creature\u2019s sides. The Gr\u2019nar began to take shape as its blood coated its body, giving Matson a rough idea of the thing\u2019s form. Its body was elongated, punctuated along the sides by a series of jointed legs. The forward\u201d\u2018most legs seemed to have the ability to lift off the ground, as if they could be used as pincers, putting the rancher in mind of an Earth scorpion.<\/p>\n<p>Having a definite target, Matson fired again, carefully lining up his shots, pumping round after round into the beast. Each explosion rocked the creature, sending it staggering backward. The rancher did not shoot rapidly, but calculated each blast, firing slowly, savoring his revenge. He purposely did not fire for its head, preferring to draw out the thing\u2019s suffering. That was a mistake.<\/p>\n<p>As the rancher paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, the Gr\u2019nar threw itself to the ground, rapidly digging its way beneath the surface. Matson fired off thirty rounds in less than a second, but it was too late. The creature had disappeared from sight.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDamn!\u201d shouted Matson, cursing his reckless actions. \u201cGoddamned stupidity. Idiot.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Not smart, Jacob, he thought. You had that thing\u2014had it cold. Now what are you going to do?<\/p>\n<p>Indeed, he wondered. What could he do? Dancer was still clawing away at the porous stone wall behind him, wild with fear. Could the Gr\u2019nar dig its way upward through the rocks? Could it reach them from below? How fast could it heal? Had he done it serious, permanent damage, or had he only blown away excess outer layers\u2014an action that might only madden the beast?<\/p>\n<p>For a moment the rancher considered following the Gr\u2019nar down its hole, but that avenue was denied to him. The walls caved in behind the creature as it retreated, explaining why none of its other burrows had been discovered without a search.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAll right,\u201d he whispered, \u201cThat won\u2019t work. So what else can we try?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Remembering Chad\u2019s downed hovercycle, Matson decided to see if the flier was still operational. He stared at it from his position high on the outcropping. The hovercycle was still out in the waterhole, resting on its back. The rancher stood, only to go dizzy from the action. Touching the side of his head, he found it horribly tender and covered with blood. Clutching desperately to consciousness, Matson grabbed the loop of rope hanging from Dancer\u2019s saddle. Taking one last look out over the surrounding area, he hopped down to the ground in four short, careful leaps, then staggered lightly to the edge of the pool.<\/p>\n<p>The front of the cycle was crunched inward, but the body of the flier seemed intact. Matson stood still for a moment, listening for the Gr\u2019nar. No sound reached his ears except that of the hot wind washing over the prairie. Even Dancer had begun to calm down. Carefully, Matson stepped out into the pool, heading for the hovercycle. Reaching the craft in only six steps he grabbed onto its starboard runner and pulled, testing to see if it had become mired in the bottom.<\/p>\n<p>Not yet, he thought as the cycle rolled over, responding fairly easily to his efforts. Checking its control array, Matson could see that the flier may have crashed, but that it was still workable.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t know how much life you\u2019ve got in you,\u201d he told the dripping machine, \u201cbut I\u2019m willin\u2019 to bet you might be able to help me out here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>A touch kicked the starter to life. Bringing the hovercycle up to only a few inches above water level, Matson maneuvered the flier to the shore. Then, he set to work rigging his rope out as a snare. The rancher worked carefully, stopping every few seconds to pause and listen for his enemy. He was fairly certain the monster was not yet moving, but he could not be sure. The ringing in his ears was growing worse, his vision blurring.<\/p>\n<p>Mopping the blood on the side of his head with his shirt sleeve, the rancher grabbed the hovercycle\u2019s remote control, then stepped away from his trap. Slowly, he raised the flier to a height of ten feet off the ground. Satisfied the hovercraft could hold its position, he returned to the rocks where a now quiet Dancer waited, eyeing him cautiously.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t blame you, girl,\u201d he said slowly, hearing the dangerous slurring in his voice. Ignoring his injury, Matson sat down heavily on the blue rocks and once more took up the Hoffman Brothers wide bore. Tabbing the sideprime, he switched to small caliber rounds. Then, the rancher took careful aim at the center of the noose he had spread out on the ground.<\/p>\n<p>A trigger pull and a small spray of sand lifted in the center of Matson\u2019s trap. The rancher counted to five then fired again.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCom\u2019on, you bastard. Com\u2019on up.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Again he counted and fired. Counted and fired. Again. And again. He ignored the slick feel of blood dripping from the side of his head to his shoulder. Paid no attention to the feel of it sliding down his back.<\/p>\n<p>Again he counted and fired. Again. He blinked to drive away the blurring creeping into the corners of his vision. Then he fired again. Waited and fired again.<\/p>\n<p>The ground split asunder in the center of the noose. The Gr\u2019nar broke through the surface of the ground, biting and snapping, hunting for the prey the bullet\u2019s impacts told him was there. Matson fumbled for the hovercycle\u2019s controls, instantly depressing the preset control that would lift the flier straight into the air.<\/p>\n<p>The Gr\u2019nar screamed as the noose jerked tight around its body. As the creature bellowed, the hovercycle ascended, dragging the horror up out of the ground and suspending it in the air. Dropping the flier\u2019s remote control, Matson again raised his weapon to his shoulder. The sideprime switched back to explosive, the rancher took aim as best he could and fired. His first round blasted into the body of the Gr\u2019nar, dragging more monstrous bellows from the terrible thing. Another round followed, then another\u2014ten more.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s for my boy, you piece of shit,\u201d screamed Matson. Tears filling his eyes, he screamed, \u201cfor Chad!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He fired again, but this time no explosion met his ears. He had missed. Blinking, working desperately to focus his failing eyes, Matson saw why. Unable to escape his bond, the creature was climbing the rope upward to the hovercycle.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, Goddamn it!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Matson fired again and again, but he missed the beast with most of his shots. It was moving too furiously. With much of its previous blood and soil coating scraped away when it had retreated underground the rancher could not get a bead on it. The creature was not nearly as exposed as before, and Matson\u2019s vision was clouding over. The rancher knew he might slip into unconsciousness at any moment.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo,\u201d he growled defiantly. \u201cIf I go, you come with me!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Then, raising his weapon higher, Matson took aim on the hovercycle\u2019s engine and put two rounds into its power chamber. The flier exploded with a roar that shook the countryside. Burning metal and plastic rained everywhere. The Gr\u2019nar was ripped through in two score spots by the explosion. A black and purple cloud blasted across the skies as the remains of the hovercycle fell from the air, dropping the Gr\u2019nar to the ground. Jacob Matson did not witness the event, however.<\/p>\n<p>A large section of the flier\u2019s stabilization unit had struck the rancher in the chest. Matson went down on impact\u2014hard\u2014six ribs cracked, two shattered. Blood poured over his lips, slashing down across his chest. The rancher floundered on his side, trying to right himself. Pain tore through his body, clawing at him, dragging him back toward unconsciousness once more. Pushing the urge to surrender aside, however, Matson began to make his way slowly to the monster\u2019s side.<\/p>\n<p>Wandering through the broken wreckage of the hovercycle, the rancher reached the Gr\u2019nar only to fall to his knees when he arrived. Biting back the pain, he stared at that much of the hateful creature as was made visible through its coating of blood and dirt and soot. He was not afraid to get so close to the monster. The Gr\u2019nar\u2019s bellows had been reduced to quiet whimpers. The thing was dying\u2014helpless.<\/p>\n<p>Matson stared into the thing\u2019s face, trying to read its expression. The rancher lifted his weapon once more while at the same time the Gr\u2019nar made weak scrabbling motions, trying to dig its way back beneath the surface. Matson cocked his weapon. The creature responded to the audible click, staring up the barrel of the Hoffman Brothers special.<\/p>\n<p>Matson hesitated, staring back at the beast. His legs shaking under him, he held his fire for a long moment, then finally he lowered his weapon and spoke softly to the Gr\u2019nar.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGo on,\u201d he croaked, his hate draining quietly away. \u201cGet out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Then, the rancher turned his back on the bleeding, dying horror and slowly made his way back to the outcropping where Dancer waited. Matson sat down heavily, his weapon slipping from his fingers\u2014forgotten.<\/p>\n<p>The Gr\u2019nar was finished. He knew it. He could see in its eyes that it could only return to its hibernation in the hopes of being reborn again in its next cycle.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGo ahead,\u201d muttered Matson. \u201cWith me dead, this place is gonna need some kind of son\u2019va bitch in the background to keep it from goin\u2019 soft.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Maybe he was crazy, he thought, but life needed adversity. If he could handle the Gr\u2019nar, so could whoever held Twin Feathers sixty\u201d\u2018four years later.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd if you can\u2019t,\u201d he spat a wad of blood defiantly into the sand, \u201cthen you don\u2019t deserve her.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The rancher could hear the whine of his wife and son\u2019s hovercycles approaching just before he passed out.<\/p>\n<div id=\"serial-posts-wrapper\">\n<h3 class=\"serial-posts-heading\"><span class=\"serial-post-text\">Read more from this serial.<\/span><\/h3>\n<ul class=\"serial-posts\">\n<li class=\"serial-posts-list-item\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/articles\/time-of-the-grnarpart-i\/\" title=\"Time of the Gr&rsquo;nar&mdash;Part I\">Time of the Gr&rsquo;nar&mdash;Part I<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"serial-posts-list-item current-inactive\">Time of the Gr&rsquo;nar&mdash;Part II<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/div>\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Conclusion to the two part story, Bruce Gehweiler &amp; C.J. Henderson bring us a shared-world of Byanntia. &mdash;<em>ed. N.E. Lilly<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":11,"featured_media":725,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[3,5],"tags":[18,16,19,17,20],"media":[299],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/11"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1215,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13\/revisions\/1215"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/725"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13"},{"taxonomy":"media","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?post=13"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}