“Hold on a minute.” I run back to where the ceetchan was and do not find her. I hurry back. “Just thinking something. Sorry, let’s go.”
We continue walking, and after a half mile, I hear something behind us again. I turn around quickly with my monk’s spade in hand.
Behind me and Fannie is the fattest, cutest pregnant ceetchan, a patch of white hair over her eye. I walk to her, and she lets me pet her head. “No way.” I immediately wipe my hand over my pants. She feels like a dog that hasn’t been bathed in years.
“Don’t pet it!” spits Fannie. “You don’t know what diseases that thing is carrying. It’ll bite you, and I will not heal you.”
“I know her.”
“What do you mean, you know her?”
“Just that. I’ve met this ceetchan before,” I explain. “Actually, partially in Abscondia.”
Fannie’s eyes squint for a brief two seconds. “There are hundreds of thousands of those things around,” she says. “Maybe you saw one similar to this one.”
“You don’t think it’s strange she let me pet her?” I say. “And why is she here?”
Fannie furrows her brow at the creature, and it growls at her.
“You’re just mad because she doesn’t like you,” I say. I pull a piece of beef jerky out of my pack and let her eat it. I take a piece also, then spit it out, as I somehow got bug lotion on my tongue. My tongue begins feeling numb as I try wiping it on my sleeve. “Blah!”
“And you’re going to waste your food on it, too! Neda save you, Kailey,” yammers Fannie. “We need to keep walking, because everyone else is far ahead of us, and we don’t want to be alone here right now.”
I hold up the ceetchan’s head and look into her eyes. “You need a name. I’m gonna call you Cheeto!” I say. “Why are you here, sweetie? Have you been following me this whole time?” Cheeto just stares up at me, clearly wanting more jerky, so of course I slip her another piece.
“You’ve really lost it. Come on!” Fannie runs forward, and then I realize it’s just me and Cheeto. I start running, too, and Cheeto does her best following me, waddling as fast as she can. I guess I can assume I’ve attracted another party member. Gunthreon is going to just be so happy, I’m sure. I decide to divert his attention.
As I catch up to him, he sees the ceetchan. “Gunthreon, I have to tell you that I traveled last—”
“I see you found another forest friend, eh?” He stares at the ceetchan. “A pregnant friend. You know she may hold you back if you get attached to her.”
“Don’t worry, Gunthreon. About my traveling—”
“I was wondering where you went last night,” says Gunthreon. I saw you were gone and was quite happy when you reappeared. Where did you go this time?” He peeks up at me, inquisitively.
“Amber’s place. Russell was there, too.” Gunthreon’s eyebrows rise slightly. “And?”
“Ummm... ”
“She’s pregnant,” he blurts.
“You knew?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me? How did you find out? Aren’t you supposed to wait three months before telling people that? Why am I always the last to know!”
Gunthreon smiles a quirky smile at me. “He is my grandson, you know,” he says. “I really wouldn’t know about the three-month thing you speak of.”
“I hate to say this, but are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I say.
“That Lupa is especially beautiful this morning?” he says with a giant smile, looking in her direction.
“Yeah, she’s awesome,” I respond, quickly, “But no!” I feel a bit embarrassed, but need to express my doubt to Gunthreon about Amber’s fidelity. “You know, it’s only been a few weeks that they’ve known each other, and Amber’s not...always ‘exclusive.’”
Gunthreon actually smiles. “Let’s just say, that, Russell, being what he is, is extremely...capable. Extremely. And I’m sure he’s captivated her.” My eyebrows scrunch, questioningly. “He’s potent!” Gunthreon says, his embarrassment evident by the redness in his cheeks. “Let’s leave it at that, Kailey. I no longer desire to speak on the matter.”
Definitely radiating discomfort, Gunthreon “humphs” and I decide to change the subject for both our sakes.
“Oh! Then what was it he wanted me to tell you?” I say, puzzled. “It seemed urgent, but Amber interrupted us.”
“Keep your eyes open. We are near an encampment and you don’t want to miss anything,” says Gunthreon, brushing off Russell.
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll see. Preparations.”
We come upon the top of a hill with, despite the darkness, a wonderful view of the valley below. There are plenty of fires lit, and several mooncats roasting numerous foods over them. We can see hundreds of mooncats scattering hither and thither.
“What’s going on? This can’t be just for us?” My blood pressure rises and I can hear Bu’s heart beating even though I’m standing six feet away from him.
“They only have a few hours to get ready for the party,” says Gunthreon. “They sure know how to do it up.” He squints, apparently trying to see more of what’s going on below. All I can see is that there’s an elephant involved. “We might as well start trekking down there.”
“What?!” I exclaim, an alarm going off in my head. “Maybe they don’t want us to see them preparing. Let’s just be surprised tonight.” I imagine us walking into an ambush of wide-open feline jaws, slashing cat claws and thousand-pound, stomping elephant feet. My imagination dances without rhythm, and it’s an ugly dance.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea Kailey,” agrees Fannie. Clearly, she doesn’t want to walk right into their hands—claws—either.
“No,” says Gunthreon, having none of it. “We are going down there, whether you like it or not. Would you rather have a glimpse of what they are preparing for us or be entirely shocked when it’s spread out before us tonight?” From the look on Conner’s face, he agrees with me and Fannie, but he isn’t going to speak up against Gunthreon, who happens to be standing hands-on-hips.
Jenna appears beside us, returning from her scouting mission, and suddenly, bares her teeth again, this time at Cheeto, who shows her own teeth. “What is that thing doing here?” says Jenna.
“She’s under my watch, so leave her alone,” I howl. “Hey! You were also under that watch once, too, weren’t you?”
“But it’s a ceetchan!” Jenna stares at Cheeto, her hands on her hips—mirrored image of Gunthreon. “You making it your pet now?”
“I guess you can say that,” I say. “Her name is Cheeto.”
I see the disgust in Jenna’s eyes. “You named the ragged mutt?”
Cheeto’s big eyes turn up at Fannie as she wags her tail.
“She likes you now. Look.” I caress her head and remove my hand, and pat her head, briefly, twice.
Fannie grunts. “Well, I don’t have to like her. She probably only likes me now because she senses what I am.” Under her breath, she says, “Everyone wants something.” She walks off.
Our little woodsprite friend says “whatever” with her body language—hands dropped, and a wave of her hand towards me and Cheeto, and turns her attention back to the current situation. “I’m scared, but I agree with Gunthreon,” she says. “I took a quick look down below, but really, we all need to go to assess the situation. Hopefully, we can figure out what to expect from tonight’s festivities.”
My, my, Gunthreon’s made himself a brave little detective.
Gunthreon decides to not wait for our approval and starts the descent with Lupa. “They know we’re here, so be on your best behavior,” he says. “Don’t appear as shocked as you may feel at the sight of their festivities.”
As we start our journey, I turn back and see that Bu is still at the top of the hill. I walk up and stand beside him. I lay my hand gently on his and look up into his face. He then turns to me and simply says, “For Haren.”
Then, I am then the one being led downhill. The
firmness of his grip on my hand is that of a boy facing his darkest challenge with adult-like dignity, but also a shitload of fear. Cheeto follows us as closely as she can. As we approach the bottom of the hill, I find myself walking very slowly, but Bu keeps his own pace and lets me fall behind. I can smell the lilac powder as he walks to the others. Gunthreon, Fannie, Lupa, Conner, and Jenna have already reached the encampment, and are greeted, or, I should say, sniffed, by several mooncats.
Just before I continue, a random thought of my mother races through my head and the anxiety I feel from not being able to check on her safety floods my current anxiety from the situation below. I close my eyes and take a breath, holding it, and imagine her standing before me, smiling—simply for comfort. Then, I imagine the feel of her energy—that kind of humming that goes on in your head when you’re around someone else—which also possesses its own kind of texture, at least to me. I send out my feeler, letting my energy call out to her, and wait for her energy to respond.
I feel my movement, and my eyes slowly open as I quickly brace myself, discovering that I just traveled. I find that I’m standing on a rather tall rock, and not on a level plateau, but on the peak. My foot slips, and I grab onto the rock with both hands, regaining my balance and keeping myself from falling to my death. I do my best to see into the distance all around me, but I do not see my mom, let alone any living creature. A puddle of green goo at the foot of the rock lets me know exactly where I am: Gernwood. Why I repeatedly show up here, I do not know—especially if this was a semi-involuntary act of soulsearching.
Sudden activity to my left forces me to crouch down, and I try hugging the rock, making myself less visible.
“He says to check out the yards and holler if there’s any trace.” I peer down below and see a somewhat short and thin greble—by greble standards—using a long staff to balance himself as he stands. Next to him is a dirty, gray-haired meeple, who from the looks of it, has seen many a year.
The meeple glances wearily over the scenery. “In my opinion, he’s losing it. That plan of his scares me to death.” The meeple grunts loudly, and the greble nods his head, assuring the meeple he indeed feels the same. They both turn around, walking back in the direction from which they came. “Damn Devoten. Whatever haunts him must be something nasty, making us walk all the way out here because he ‘feels’ something. Yeah, let him feel my foot up his butt!” They both laugh and continue on, not seeing the redhead perched up above them like a cardinal in a tree.
I make a judgment call and decide not to search the area. My lame attempt at soulsearching—even if subconsciously—a failure. I prepare to travel back quickly, but before I leave, I can’t help but notice a figure in the distance—a figure I quickly recognize as a deathman. It stands as still as can be, just staring directly at me. It grins, and I take this as my cue to return from whence I came.
As I travel, it dawns on me that I just did once again what Gunthreon said no one ever does: traveled within Renhala.
Chapter 39
Pitiful
The elephant I suddenly find myself perched upon moves slightly as I appear on its back. Its trunk comes near me, and it sniffs me, tickles my ear, then blows snot at me.
“Gross!” I yell, gripping firmly with both hands. “Why on top of an elephant?”
Its elderly, gray-furred owner laughs as he watches me gripping the elephant for dear life. He’s rattily dressed in dirty old clothes, but his fur is combed back neatly as he lovingly pets his elephant. He laughs merrily to the point of tears. “I’m not gonna ask where you just came from,” he says. “I only want to say, thanks so much for the laugh. Haven’t had one in months.”
“Kailey, get down from there this instant!” Lupa has her hands on her hips, resembling Gunthreon for a brief moment. “You’re going to fall and kill yourself. How did you get up there?”
Conner turns his attention to me and starts laughing when he sees the goop all over my face. Jenna joins in the laughter.
The elephant owner and Bu help me down. The tissue Lupa hands me barely makes a dent in the snot.
“Glad you’re back,” Gunthreon states, his face clearly revealing the sarcasm spoke. I cringe. Gunthreon pets the elephant’s trunk. “Kailey, were you searching for your mother?”
“I didn’t mean—” I say as he puts his hand up.
“You haven’t seen her in a while. Any luck?” I shake my head. “I’d probably be defying me, too, if I could,” says Gunthreon, “but Kailey, it’s important that you stop. As of right now.” My nod satisfies him. “Let’s keep walking.”
Lupa stops in front of a bunch of mooncats preparing a substantial amount of brown stew over a large fire. She sniffs the air. “Excuse me,” she says to a rather tiny little thing, something resembling a Siamese cat. “Are you using mountain fern?”
The cat smiles. “You have a discerning nose. Well done. I’d offer you some, but the rules are no tasting until later.”
“Totally understandable. Thank you for sharing your herbal secret.” Lupa bows to the Siamese. The cat stirs the stew in the kettle, and I gasp when I see a pair of green eyes disappear into the depths of the broth. The eyes had a familiar glare to them.
Lupa turns to us. “Do you have any idea how rare that is? I feel like royalty! I wonder how they came about such a huge quantity of mountain fern.”
“Or how they can eat their own kind.”
Lupa gasps as the words exit my mouth. “Why would you say that?”
I tell her that I saw a pair of eyes that we met the other night. “I’ll leave it at that,” I state.
“It’s dark, and your eyes are playing tricks on you,” says Conner. “Mooncats are not known cannibals.”
“Thanks, Mr. Walking Encyclopedia.”
“He’s right,” declares Gunthreon. “They eat flesh, but never their own.”
Conner pulls a “me,” sticking his tongue out in my direction. As I make a stupid face back at him, crossing my eyes and all, I trip over Cheeto, who has been walking as close as possible. My body gains momentum, and I then trip over a rope holding up one of the tents. My hand lands on a grill covered in roasting rats.
“Ow! Damn! Ladimer!” My hand screams at me, and I can see the blisters forming already. The pain is excruciating.
The realization then sets in as to what I just said.
Fannie is beside me before I even have the chance to be dumbfounded. “You better shut up,” she howls, “or else you’re going to get me killed!” She pulls me by my hair as the mooncat manning the grill watches us with squinted eyes. The cat, a cheetah and definitely male, flips his rats methodically, keeping his other hand on a chef’s knife a little longer than I’d like.
“I have some salve for that, if you’d like,” says the cat, pulling a small metal container out of a bag.
“Yes, that would be so kind of you,” replies Fannie. “Your food smells scrumptious!” Fannie holds out my hand as the cat man puts the salve onto the burn. I hope he doesn’t notice that Fannie is squeezing all the blood out of my hand, or that my nail is trying to burrow itself into her finger to get her to let up a bit.
“Just keep this dry, and you shouldn’t have a scar.” Cheetah man winks at me. He’s kind of cute. I blush.
“Thank you. I’m Kailey.” I shake his paw with my good hand. He responds a bit awkwardly, but I don’t know the cat equivalent of shaking hands. As long as it doesn’t involve smelling his rear, I can handle it. He then licks my hand and I blush, again, and giggle.
“And I’m Fannie.” Fannie does not shake the cheetah’s paw.
“Conner.” Conner does a guy-nod.
“I am Leon,” purrs the cat. “Sorry I couldn’t catch you in time, but you fell so quickly! Your little friend here believes you will keep her safe, eh?” He stares down at Cheeto.
Fannie says, “Stupid animal has grown attached to our clumsy... ”
“And flirty,” says Conner.
“... Kailey,” Fannie finishes, ignoring Con
ner.
Leon checks all of us over, head to toe. “Do not underestimate an animal’s intuition, Fannie. That could prove to be stupid in itself down the road.” He pauses. “You folks enjoy the pre-show and we will see you tonight. I gotta get back to the cooking.”
“Thanks again.” I hold up my blistering hand.
“Any time.” He winks as Conner and Fannie start walking away. I blush again, then run to catch up with them.
Cheeto catches up to me and rubs against my leg, then looks up at me with her big eyes. I lean down, scratch behind her ears, and tell her how cute she is. She smells my hand where I burned it and starts to lick the wound. It hurts, but I let her anyway. I always believed the claim that a dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s, so maybe it’s the same for a wild raccoon with fangs.
When I catch up to my friends, Jenna is jabbering away in Gunthreon’s ear. It puts me in a brighter mood, because he actually let her talk rather than demean her or talk over her.
“They are always ready for a party,” says Gunthreon, “but I do have to say, this one seems especially extravagant. Imported food, rare animals, handmade silks, and tapestries—it must be costing them a fortune.” As we continue forward, Gunthreon stares at a showcat whose headdress, from the look of it, could very well be made of real emeralds and sapphires.
I turn to what I think is Bu’s direction and soon find that he’s nowhere in sight. “Guys, where’s—”
My words abruptly stop as I stare at a horrible scene before us. Lupa buries her face in Gunthreon, Conner gasps, and Fannie and Jenna are wordless. Even Cheeto growls and bares her teeth.
I turn away, no longer able to look. Conner puts his arms around me. “How—how can they do that?” I cry, into his shoulder.
“I don’t know,” Conner replies, solemnly. As he holds me I sense his emotions—a faint sense of hopelessness mixed with pity, and I don’t like it. Pity.
“Shouldn’t we do something? Shouldn’t someone?” I sob, pulling away from him and scanning the huge crowd surrounding the abomination while everyone simply stares, murmuring to each other, and thanking their gods that it’s not them.
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