by Jim Galford
“Do it. I’m not going back, just to be banished.”
The claws fell faster than he expected, but Estin did his best to fall sideways, letting his hands be in the way of the attack. As Feanne’s claws neared his bonds, the plants snapped free and raced away, allowing him to slide out from under her, taking only one painful slice across the back of his wrist where one claw caught him.
“Now that,” she told him, watching him from the corner of her eye, “was clever.”
She turned to fully face him, her hands shrinking back to normal size. Raising her hands slightly, she displayed her claws to him.
“Can you fight me like this?”
Estin checked around in the trees for any other tricks, but saw nothing.
“I can try.”
Feanne wasted not a second, leaping into him, bowling him over. She slashed his chest three times with her claws, then rolled backwards, raking him once more with her toe-claws as she escaped him. She stopped herself in a crouch just outside his reach, her grin making her white teeth look wicked in the moonlight.
Grunting in pain, Estin pushed himself back onto his feet, feeling blood warm and sticky in his fur. Raising his fists, he tried to face off against her again, but Feanne stayed in her low crouch, watching him move.
“You cannot fight like this if you expect to win,” she teased, slowly easing herself to standing. “Walk up to me and strike me, if you can.”
Estin approached cautiously, expecting her to strike. Not a muscle twitched and her eyes were calm. She gave him nothing.
He punched at her face, but Feanne leaned out of the way, grabbing a handful of his side’s fur and flesh in her claws.
“Right now, we have a problem, Estin. If I wished, I could open your side and you would bleed to death before anyone from camp found you.”
Twisted in a position that gave him no easy reach to strike at her, Estin gasped for air as her claws dug deeper into his side. He could drive his elbow into her arm, but that would only further the problem.
“Say it. Say that you will yield. Asrahn’s whim is not worth your death.”
Feanne’s other hand clamped down on the back of his neck, claws finding his spine.
“This can only end two ways. You need to choose quickly.”
Immobilized and feeling the tips of her claws cutting through his flesh, Estin was nearly delirious with pain. As he attempted to twitch his way free of either grip, his tail slid across her feet, which she appeared not to notice.
Summoning the last bit of strength he could muster, Estin hooked his long tail around her knees, throwing off her balance. As he had hoped, when Feanne began to stumble, she lost her hold on him, allowing him to backhand her and spin free.
Hitting the ground hard, Feanne lay where she fell, laughing. Estin, though, stood still, waiting for the next attack.
“Will that do, Asrahn?” Feanne called out loudly. “Or shall I beat on him again?”
The elder stepped from behind a nearby tree and glowered at them both.
“Not quite the trial I had in mind, child. I just wanted to know if he can be taught. What think you? Can he be a warrior and a healer?”
Feanne back-rolled onto her feet so that she was facing Estin again.
“I can teach him,” she replied, her eyes on him and glittering with humor, “but I do not think he likes my teaching style.”
“What is this?” Estin demanded, letting his guard finally fall. Pain screamed through his side and chest, dizzying him. “All of this was some kind of test?”
Asrahn approached him, eyeing his wounds as she told him, “When I was younger, I learned that there are two ways of a healer. The first is to wait for the injured and to heal them when they come to you, or are brought. That was what my father wanted of me. My mother was a warrior, always rushing into combat if she could find the excuse…something Feanne seems to have inherited.”
Feanne looked up from licking her claws clean, but kept silent.
“I preferred the more active role in a battle,” Asrahn continued. “I am old now and am relegated to that which I hated as a youth.
“You have the desire to be a warrior, yet you weep over the fallen. A true warrior cannot let themselves grieve. Ulra would not do so. She would rush into battle and kill as many as she could manage with no remorse. If her allies fall, she cares only that they died doing their duties. Beyond that, she will not allow herself to grieve.
“That is not who you are.”
“No,” he agreed nervously. “I can’t shake the memories of every death I’ve seen.”
“I wish you to learn to stand in the face of bloodshed and heal those who fall so that they can continue fighting right then and there,” the elder told him, stepping nearly face-to-face with him. “You will fight alongside them, but ultimately will support them. This requires a different mindset, which I hope that you possess.”
Asrahn set her hand on his shoulder, near his neck, then clamped her claws into his skin.
“There is also the matter of concentration.”
Estin yelped, falling to his knees as she cut into his shoulder, her claws as sharp or sharper than Feanne’s.
“If you cannot concentrate on the magic while being cut, burned, or beaten, you will never survive as this type of healer. You need to be able to focus on the magic while fighting. As such, I need you to answer two questions correctly while I will continue to hurt you. Answer by any means you can manage.”
Estin was in tears as her claws cut into muscle.
“The walking stick that the dwarf scratched his backside with,” she said calmly, trying to keep him looking her in the face. “What was the animal’s fur on the head?”
His thoughts were a scattered mess as he tried to think past the pain. Blood was dripping off his fingers and his arm was limp, but he struggled to remember what he had seen back in the tent. The delicate carvings were easier to remember, but the head…
“Crow…feather…,” he gasped.
“Correct.”
Her claws tightened again and Estin swore he felt the grinding of their tips on the bones of his shoulder as he almost fell over. Her claws literally held his weight and he managed to stay on his knees.
“Next, you must draw me the slaver’s mark from my shoulder. Here is a stick. Draw it. When it is drawn properly, we can move on.”
She put a twig into Estin’s usable hand.
Estin fought his memories, trying to sort out the lines that he had paid little detailed attention to. At first all he could see were the scar patterns down his and Feanne’s arms and legs. Gradually, through the haze of pain, he began to vaguely remember the pattern, which he traced onto the ground.
“No, not quite. Keep trying.”
The claws tore at him still more, eliciting a scream he had fought so hard against.
“I…don’t…remember.”
“That will not suffice, child. Find a way, or I will not train you, which in turn means that Lihuan will banish you. I’m afraid once I’ve convinced him of something, it is very hard to change his mind.”
Estin groaned and looked around for any escape. In doing so, he realized that Asrahn’s arm that held him in a bloody grip was the one with the marking. Unfortunately, her doeskin tunic covered the scars completely, keeping it from his gaze. Using his good arm in any way would require dropping the stick, which he did not want to risk.
“Think more quickly!” she snapped at him, getting her face closer to his. “Lives are lost during delays!”
Estin gasped for air as he glanced over at Feanne, who was watching intently, her legs folded under her. As he looked directly at her, she smiled and made a show of sweeping her tail around onto her lap.
His tail.
Estin felt like an idiot for having not thought of it sooner, but he flipped his tail arouond, flicking Asrahn’s sleeve out of the way, exposing the thin bare lines of the mark. He quickly recreated what he could see on the ground with the stick.
�
��Well done.”
Asrahn released his shoulder and Estin collapsed, clutching at the bloody wounds.
“Now,” she said, kneeling with a groan beside him, “this is what it means to properly heal a fresh wound.”
At her touch, Estin flinched, but felt instant relief of his pain. He was hesitant to let her touch him at all, but when he allowed her to lay her hand fully on his arm, he could actually feel the wounds begin to close. In seconds, every wound he had suffered that night was closed and even the fur had filled back in somewhat.
“He is all yours, Feanne,” Asrahn announced, struggling back to her feet. “Teach him to fight. I will deal with him when you are done. A warrior-healer is rather useless if he cannot fight properly. Try not to break him.”
From where he lay, Estin swore he saw Feanne’s malicious grin again, but he could not be sure.
Chapter Five
“Wildlife Divisions”
A new dream started that night. I cannot say it was marginally better, but it was certainly not as hopeless.
This time, after the screams of our neighbors, my waking within the dream, and the sounds of the burglar entering our home, things would begin to change. I knew, even asleep, that this was not really how it had happened, but it was as though my mind was trying to work around the pain of my lifetime to come up with a new answer.
I really was not good at seeing a new life in my dreams just yet.
I found the courage to venture from my bed and creep on all fours to the small opening that led to our family’s main room. As usual, I looked out into the main room.
My mother had that long chain around her throat…how I seethed with hatred at the foul thing. She lay at the feet of a robed man who was collecting bones from a meal that had not been cleaned up properly, giggling and holding up each little animal bone with glee.
I rushed out this time, long before my father would enter. In my mind, I would save her this time. Father would be so proud. The Turessian would fall and mother would live. That was how it all should have happened.
My claws hit the robed man and went right through as his body fell apart, the robe collapsing around me as I struggled to stand. When I finally got it off me, I was alone in the room with mother. She was so very still, with that chain wrapped around her neck.
I checked on her, knowing that I now had the knowledge and training to save her. I could heal at a touch, giving her back what the intruder had taken from her. It was to be my shining moment…the completion of my training as a healer.
As I reached for her, mother rolled over, staring up at me with cold dead eyes. She grabbed at me, trying to drag me down into undeath with her. I fought to get free, but her hands were stronger than mine, pulling me down into the floor, where I knew I could never escape. If I could not free myself, I would be just as dead as mother and no amount of training could save me.
I cried out for help and saw Feanne standing in the window of the house, just watching. I called again and again, but she just watched me as I was dragged down.
I swear I saw her smile as the grave took me.
Estin woke the next morning with a start, finding himself safe in his tent. His remaining sword lay beside him, along with the bags he had taken from the wagon the night before. Several collected or gifted trinkets lay strewn about as reminders of the good things he had found in the pack since his arrival, including a tiny silver earring that a mouse child had given him in passing the day after he had first arrived at camp.
He rolled over and sat up, gazing upon the stark emptiness of the tent. In doing so, he tapped his head on another gift—a clay sculpture from Ulra that vaguely resembled the sun. She had told him that all things are better when you have the sun overhead to warm you. He had happily hung the piece of clay from the center of his tent’s “roof” so that the sun was indeed always over him.
“Good morning,” said a female voice softly, just behind him, near the tent’s entrance flap.
Estin nearly dove out of the tent’s wall in surprise as he spun, finding himself facing a young deer wildling, who watched him with large eyes as she sat cross-legged against one side of the small tent. Estin could not remember ever having met her, let alone bringing her into the tent. His mind raced, trying to remember if he had done something rash and blocked it out of his memory, but nothing came to him.
He knew she was young, but probably three to five years, so somewhere around maturity. Aside from her breed’s common brown fur, she had thin white lines of fur that ran up across her nose, around her eyes and up her forehead.
Unlike most of the more predatory wildlings who wore deerskin leather, she wore a simple shirt and loose pants of thin fabric—which somehow made Estin utter an internal sigh of relief at not having to justify her wearing her namesake breed’s skin for clothing.
The girl’s ears shot back nervously as he panicked.
“Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you,” she cooed, raising her hands in what should have been a calming manner, though her eyes seemed to hint that she nearly ran away herself. “Lihuan asked me to check in on you and introduce myself. I’m one of the pack’s tailors and a scout, but I hear that you’re going to be the next pack healer. It’s so good to have one of ours in an important job like that, so when I heard, I wanted to meet you right away.”
“One of ours?”
“Plant eaters…the safe people. Oh, can I help you in some way? You look like I’ve done something wrong.”
Estin did not feel particularly frightened of the girl, but stayed away anyway, trying to figure out what was going on, having apparently been fast asleep when she snuck in. He started to answer, when he realized he was undressed—having been alone when he bedded down—and tried to subtly shift his tail to cover himself. He had been told by the others that nudity was more of a human concept, but having lived among humans his whole life, it was somewhat of a concern for him.
“No…I think I’m fine. Who are you and why did you sneak in on me?”
“Alafa. Like I said, Lihuan asked me to come by. I forgot to ask him when he wanted me to come by, so I decided I should do it right away. You weren’t awake and Lihuan did say you had a rough night, so I really didn’t want to wake you up. Did I do right?”
The girl blinked at him and leaned forward slightly, as though hanging on his reply.
“You did…fine,” he fumbled, sliding over his leather clothing from the corner of the tent. With a sinking feeling, he realized it was all deerskin and decided instead to slide it out of sight behind him.
“I’m sorry. You seem bothered about not having your clothes,” she noted, tipping sideways a bit to see where he had slid the pile of leathers. “I don’t understand the city customs…would it help if I was down to just fur, too?”
“No, not really,” he snapped at her, trying to modestly shove her towards the tent entrance. “If you could just leave…”
“Did I upset you?”
“No Alafa, it’s fine. Just wasn’t ready for guests.”
“Oh good. I’ll see you tonight, then.”
With that, the girl practically skipped away from his tent and into the eastern part of camp, her short white tail disappearing into the maze of tents.
“That was…different,” Estin said to himself, pulling on his loincloth and jacket quickly.
“Busy night?” asked Feanne, who was leaning on a sapling near his tent, watching him through the open tent flap.
“Been standing there long?”
“Since she arrived an hour ago. I was coming to wake you for morning meals before Ghohar’s passing ceremony, seeing as it’s noon already, but it looked like the girl had everything in-hand. I thought I would wait it out. You have missed the meal.”
Estin flinched at her words and grabbed his belt and sword, fastening them on as he climbed out of the tent. Sure enough, the sun was high in the sky. The night’s fights had exhausted him more than he had thought.
“Feanne, she wasn’t…”
/> “Old enough to take a mate? Wrong there, she turned four last month. She’s an eligible adult now.”
“No, I meant what happened in the tent…”
“Was not my business, Estin. What happens on the south end of camp is none of my concern. I barely pay attention to the north, where I belong.”
Feanne turned and walked away, leaving Estin to catch up with her quick pace, but Estin did note her sharp swishes of her tail…she was annoyed with him. Not the way he wanted to start the day.
They navigated towards the center of the camp, where Ghohar’s bier had been paired with a second, which held the ogre’s body. Already, various villagers were applying oil to the wood that bore the two bodies. So far as Estin could tell, every member of the pack was present, including Alafa, who was watching him. He made a point of not acknowledging her.
“As you all know,” announced Lihuan, who stood at the head of the biers, giving Estin a sharp look as he came into the gathering, “last night, two of our own fell in the woods nearby.
“Our community is made up of about every breed of wildling that walks the lands and for that I am proud. Despite that, today I must honor the death of one who was not of our kin, but stood with ours until his last moments, defending the pack as his own. For this, we will offer him the same passing as we give our own. We will miss the tender watchfulness of the ogre of the woods.
“Also, we have lost one who was with us from the time we first began calling ourselves a pack. Ghohar of the wolven people died at the hands of the same foe that felled the ogre of the woods. Ghohar stood with me when we defended this pack through years of attacks and would be proud to have died patrolling on our behalf.
“Despite these losses, there was a survivor of the attack. For every life that is spared, there is reason to be thankful. The pack will continue on.”
Lihuan took a torch that was offered to him and flung it among the wood, which lit instantly, rapidly growing into a blazing column of flames.
Estin stood there, watching in wonder as the flames raged and consumed the bodies, even as an elder squirrel wildling stood atop a tree stump nearby, waving her arms in some semblance of magic to guide winds to scatter the smoke so that it was less visible at a distance. The whole assembly remained silent throughout, watching the fires burn.