Now, I’d been sent away by his heir to travel the long chain of mountains for the first time since I was a child. My send-off was unexpected and cruel because I was given little with which to survive outside my innate skills.
And I was alone.
During the last ten cycles I’d headed slowly south, sure that I would be called back at any moment. Or caught, perhaps. Because I didn’t feel free. I felt tired, and scared. How was I supposed to survive on my own? How could I turn my hunt into a way to find easy prey? How could I keep myself safe long enough to reach my destination?
These questions rose in my mind again as I stared up through the leafy canopy stirring in the cool breeze above me. My Magick was useful to a point, but it couldn’t find food for me.
Sighing, I slowly rose to my feet. From my carry-pouch, I pulled out a bone from my last catch four cycles prior. It was already empty, no marrow or fat was left clinging to it, but I felt better putting it into my mouth and trying to work my teeth against its knobby ridges in an effort to get the juices flowing in my mouth. It was the last piece I had left, making it even harder to set aside.
Maybe I’ll start a necklace of bone like my mother had.
The sun was starting to set and it was time to continue traveling. I started forward, making my way past tangled brush and thorny vines with ease. The ground sloped downwards, making it easier for me to scamper along. Just as the shadows faded into true black and the last light of Rising disappeared, I smelled a delectable scent.
Water!
Hunching down on my knees, I put my nose to the ground. My eyes closed to sharpen my focus on the wispy trail as I shook my head back and forth to sense which direction would lead me closer.
There. The smell strengthens in that direction.
I opened my eyes and sped into action. As I drew closer, my ears caught the splashing sound of water trickling over rocks. I started following the sounds in earnest, moving more quickly as my thirst seemed to increase with the closing distance. My eyes widened to allow me to see better in the dark. A seeming wall of foliage faced me, appearing daunting until I finally detected a break in the leaves. I slowed down and stopped, peering around the edges for sight of any animals or other predators. So focused on the water, I had completely closed off the possibility that other life might be there before me.
I caught an old scent of tangy blood – coppery, but thin – human, I thought. But it was almost gone. Perhaps a hunter with an injury? I shook my mind and kept concentrating, holding as still as possible.
Nothing.
I finally edged around the break and saw a wide stream weaving its merry way down the slope, glinting here and there under the pale blue-yellow light of the moons. Thirst overwhelmed my remaining cautions and I flung myself halfway into the brook, gasping at the ice-cold touch of its mountain-fed water. I drank for a few moments then withdrew my mouth. I knew better than to put too much in my stomach, as that would only sicken me. And I could not afford any more weakness. This might be my first time in the wilderness, but there were a few bits of lore my mother had managed to pass on to me.
Even so, I allowed myself a few more gulps before I decided to travel along the curving length of the stream as it flowed downwards. I knew it would eventually run into other potential meals who, like me, needed water to survive. Water and meat.
It will always be a predator’s world.
I smiled grimly as the words of my daughter’s father echoed in my head. He had been right about so many things.
But not about my daughter.
I pushed away the futile desire for revenge and kept moving. The air started to warm slightly, despite the lack of sunlight, and I started humming to myself again. It was much easier this time and I was tempted to sing more loudly. But that would only warn my future meals away. So I strode along in near-silence, rolling melodies around in my head as the Falling waned.
Near sunrise I reached a small valley. Unsure of whether or not it was already inhabited, I thought about skirting around its edges. But I was unwilling to leave the stream so soon, especially as I still hadn’t caught any food. Water at least gave me enough strength to keep looking.
I’ll stay in the shadows, I reassured myself.
When I was nearly halfway across, I found a tree over a hundred hand-spans tall. Its ancient roots were large and twisted, creating arches under which I could crawl. My fatigue had gradually been trying to push me down, and the tree’s appearance offered me a chance to rest safely. I stopped at one of the wide roots and closed my eyes. I listened carefully for the sound of any animals resting under its trunk. I heard the scurry of a few small creatures – chittering m’leps eating nuts and giggling, furry negeils swinging from branches. I hadn’t realized I missed their voices until they caught my scent and quickly ran away. I sighed.
I was very lonely.
I reached out and pushed back the covering screen of hanging leaves and vines. There was a dark, damp, nicely sized hollow under the trunk that would serve as a sleeping nest while the sun was in the sky. As I crouched and worked my way inside, I immediately spied the glowing sprouts of f’rek-mushes. Their short white stems and button caps were considered a delicacy by some species, but I couldn’t stomach them. I stared at them wistfully for a moment, feeling the hole in my belly pierce at me again, before sitting down. I swept aside some of the black, silky dirt and make a little depression for my body. I settled into it, curling onto my side and falling into a restless, hunger-filled sleep.
Long, angry screams broke into my slumber. I roused, groggy and weak, and tried to orient myself.
The valley... the tree.
The cries interrupted my thoughts and I shook my head to try to wake myself up more fully. I rose up to a crouch from my curled position and stretched. A yawn split my face and I nearly fell over with the tiredness it produced it me.
I crawled my way to the source of the ragged sounds, peering through the shadowed folds of the tree. The sun was still high and I wondered how long the crying had been going on. I flicked my eyes back and forth and caught a flash of creamy white. I poked my head out a little further, trying to understand what was making that awful noise.
A baby… a human baby!
I crept out a little farther, wincing as the glare of the sun caught in my eyes. I squinted in an effort to relieve the ache. I widened my nostrils and cocked my head, but I didn’t catch any hint of other humans nearby. At least, not for several hours, perhaps even since sunrise.
Why have they left their child out alone so long?
I stood and walked around to the screaming bundle, checking the area around me nervously. Everything was still. I looked down at the baby.
“I suppose you scared everything away.”
It wailed on, oblivious to my presence, and I took a moment to examine it. Its face was red and blotched, its body thin and wasted. It had obviously been carefully placed on the tree because jugs and flowers decorated the base. A rough blanket lay under the child, but the body itself was completely unclothed and exposed to the elements except for the barest covering around its waist. One of the tiny, waving fists caught my attention and I looked more closely. Instead of five fingers, it had only a thumb and another short stub on the other end. I quickly checked the other hands and feet, and found each one deformed in some way. One of the feet was barely shaped and curved in on itself.
So they sacrifice to the Balance in order to spare other children the same fate.
I looked at the pathetic little creature. It would surely die soon.
Just then, the breeze picked up and a luscious smell wafted out from one of the jugs to my nose.
Beinaa-honey!
I reached over the baby and picked up the jug. Quickly, I dipped my hand in and pulled out a large glob, plopping it into my mouth. The spicy-sweet taste filled my nose and burned its way gleefully down my throat. I reached for another jug and saw that it held old wine. As I poured the cool liquid down my mouth as well, I felt a rush
of dizziness the exquisite tastes were bringing me. But the best prize was in a modestly-sized bowl. It held a chunk of raw meat, red and flowing with juices. The flesh was cold but I reached for it hungrily, tearing away huge bites and chewing quickly. The taste of blood burst inside of me and I sagged in ecstasy.
As I savored the food, the human child started screaming again, more loudly than before – which I hadn’t believed possible. I looked over at the tiny hump. Its eyes were open and fixed on me. They were ordinary human eyes, brown and expressive, and they begged me to help. I looked away, knowing I couldn’t afford to be distracted. But the cries wound themselves inside my head and I thought of the last screams I’d ever heard from my daughter.
Maman!
I looked at the baby speculatively.
Maybe…
I was tired of being alone. Having a little one near would give me a sense of purpose; would help me begin to rebuild my sthilisth. I looked back down.
“Very well, then. I’ll keep you for now. But I need to give you a name.”
I peeked under the sodden waistcloth. A girl! Now I knew I was on the right path.
Thank you, great Balance.
I reached down and folded the blanket around the shivering form. I picked her up and cradled her to my chest. She was light, weighing hardly anything, and she instinctively cuddled against me for warmth. Her body was cold, nearly frozen. I rubbed my hand against her, thinking how much a fire would help.
“That’s it. I’ll call you Delaak. It means ‘brown’ in my tongue.”
Delaak cried again in response, more weakly this time. I knew she was hungry, so I decided to spare a little of the wine. I tore a piece of the blanket and dipped it into the jug, then brought it up to dribble into her mouth.
“Come, my little one. We need to get you healthy and strong. You must be bigger to help me rebuild my family.”
She slurped greedily at the wine, reminding me of my own thirst, and I took a long swig of the jug. She lay there quietly as I swiftly packed the meat and honey into my empty carry-pouch and slung it around my back. Then I reached for Delaak, pulling her closer to my warmth. Cradling her in one arm, I grabbed the wine in the other and started moving away from the tree.
My eyes still watered from the glare, but I thought it best to put distance between us and the site of the humans’ sacrifice. The motion of my body must have soothed the little girl, for she soon drifted into an exhausted slumber. I walked on, the food in my belly giving me the strength I needed to make my slow way out of the valley.
As I walked, I studied the face of the little girl. It was squashed and small, but not unattractive. My little Delaak had not been fed, probably since she was born, at least two or three cycles prior. I inspected the rest of her body, but other than her unfortunate hands and feet, she seemed normal enough.
Human customs are strange.
At the exit of the valley, I paused. I caught of whiff of humans – men, it smelled like. I felt my pulse flutter with excitement. More humans meant more food. I followed the scent until I could see wood smoke in the air. I began to crouch down. At my bosom, Delaak moved in sleepy protest.
The baby.
I knew it was too soon to leave her alone, but I was afraid my abilities wouldn’t be able to mask her cries should she awaken and find me gone.
Unless…
Yes. That would do nicely.
I knew there would be too many men to take on at once, but I thought I might be able to figure out a way to trick them, thus providing me with better sustenance.
Moving away from the men, I searched for a place to securely leave Delaak. There was a tree I’d passed earlier laden with sharp branches. I thought I would be able to break a few to both cover and protect the child while I was away. Sure enough, I found the tree surrounded by several dead limbs. I gently set down Delaak, rearranging the thin blanket around her small frame.
“There now, I’ll be back with more clothes for you soon, little one. Just be patient.”
I untied my pack and placed it next to her. I dipped the torn cloth back into the wine and left it wound around her deformed hand. Then I stepped back and placed several sharp sticks around her. Satisfied, I turned away and left to go back to the men’s camp.
As I neared, I focused my thoughts outwards, letting down the natural barriers of my mind. I was searching for some image that might make the men less suspicious of my appearance. I couldn’t really reach deeply into another mind and read its innermost secrets, but I could hear the surface thoughts and emotions of most creatures, which allowed me to flow naturally into shapes most pleasing to them.
Their guilt layered the air in dirty, gray-green tones. I surmised they must be the men who had left my little Delaak out to waste away under the elements. Or get savaged by some stray animal.
Such waste.
I delved deeper into their remorse, trying to find common threads that might better serve to cajole them. As I searched, I felt my flesh begin rippling in response as the Magick in me stretched into full wakefulness. My bones shortened, my hair grew, and my face twisted. The process was quick, if painful, but I had changed so often in my life I paid the sensation little attention.
When I was finished, I wondered exactly how I could trick them into sharing with me. I looked around for inspiration and my eye was caught by the glowing shape of the f’rek-mushes. They were small shoots, too young for humans to eat.
But if they were accidentally swallowed…
I darted forward and picked a large handful. There were several leaves lying fallen on the ground, and I used one to wrap the mushes in a broad leaf before tying the bundle around my waist with a length of vine. I pushed my glamour out over it, studying the image carefully to make sure it was secure and hidden.
Finally, I was ready.
Keeping my head hanging down and altering my gate to reflect my tired appearance, I moved in a staggering gait towards the fire. As I did, I added a glamour that gave me rags for clothes and the smell of old sweat. Then I started stumbling loudly through the brush and hiccupping loudly, as if in fear.
“Ma- ma- ma,” I chanted hysterically just as I fell through the brush in the midst of their campsite. The men – three of them – sprang back in startlement. I looked up at them from the ground in teary wonderment.
“Help me,” I whispered. I collapsed down and the men unfroze, leaping to assist me.
“Here, now, little one,” the oldest man said. “It’s all right. We’ll help you. Come here, closer to th’ fire.”
His warm hands reached out, gently grasped me, hauled me upright, and led my quietly sobbing self closer to the light of the fire. There was a log lined up in front of it and the old man helped me sit against the ridged trunk.
Another man, this one in his prime, came up and offered me some water.
“Now, now, lassie, this’ll help you feel a little better.”
He proffered me a cup of beaten metal and I took it with shaking hands. I slurped at it, grateful for the taste of cold water. The wine had been a long time ago.
The third man – more of a boy – waited patiently behind the one offering me water. He had a bowl in his hand. From the smell, I guessed it to be some kind of stew. As long as it had some meat in it, I would be able to keep it down.
The man next to me turned his head and said, “Okay, son, gimme that bowl now.”
Of course, I thought with a twinge of sorrow. A great-father, father, and son. A family… sthilisth.
As the son offered me the soup, I took a moment to spy out the pot from which the soup came. It had been taken off the fire to cool, but still bubbled hotly only a few paces away. I took an experimental sip of the soup. I grimaced a little at the taste of barley and rice, but I caught a piece of fat in it and pulled it into my mouth.
It tasted wild and fresh – Meat from a m’lep – I thought. I ate it hungrily then slurped at the soup, trying to avoid as much grain as I could.
The men nodded around
me in sympathy.
“Poor little thing. Hasn’t eaten in a long time,” the father said.
“Da,” the boy asked, “how did she get out here alone?”
The two older men were silent. I felt them examining me and I tried to subtly display my hands and feet. As they looked, I felt their guilt surge back out into the air.
I reminded them too much of their lost child.
Excellent.
To their surprise, I hobbled to my feet and made a few stumbling steps to the pot of stew. They reached out to try and help me but I pretended to trip, thus avoiding their hands. As I fell, I quickly pulled the rolled leaf from my waist and tossed it into the still-boiling soup. I concentrated on covering the sound of its landing with my glamour, but just then, a loud wailing broke out, echoing through the clearing.
Delaak! She must have woken up.
The men cowered, turning and reaching for their weapons. As the scream faded, I took my cue and began babbling.
“Good sirs, it’s chasing me. It won’t stop chasing me. It’s the lost soul of a poor baby and it wants to steal my body.”
I started crying again.
The men turned to look at each other in consternation. I felt their anguish build as they each took my words to heart, thinking it was the soul of the child they left behind, lost and afraid and departed from her already-dead body.
A hand patted me softly on the shoulder and I jerked away.
“It’s alright. Da and Granda will keep us safe.”
I nodded and sniffed to myself. The two men were talking between themselves. They decided to keep watches that night.
“Son,” the father called. “Come here.”
The boy turned and walked to his father. Delaak’s cries, though gentler, continued to echo around their words.
“You will have first watch. I will take second and Granda the next. Understand, boy?”
“Yes, Da.”
“Good.”
I took that moment to reach for the pot again. They turned and the boy came running back to me.
“Here, I can get that. I was just about to serve everyone.”
I nodded in thanks, eyes lowered, and made my way back to the log. As the men settled around me, I wondered how long I would have to wait.
After eating two bowls, the son stood up and told his father, “I’m gonna start my guard duty.”