by Jim Galford
“Are you ready for the gathering tonight?” asked Alafa, suddenly at Estin’s side.
He nearly jumped, but tried to appear unsurprised.
“Gathering?”
“The feast of the fallen,” Feanne said, her eyes on the flames. “When one of the pack’s members dies, a feast is thrown in their honor. The unofficial hope is that a celebration will bring about at least as many new children as the number that was lost that day. It is an old and vulgar custom that most truly enjoy…perhaps too much.”
“It’s great,” babbled Alafa, bouncing up and down, which reminded Estin suddenly of a female version of Sohan. “Everyone’s trying not to be sad, so they have more fun than usual. It’s always best for those who are unmated. Like us. Just saying.”
Estin immediately grabbed Feanne’s arm and just started walking away, not saying a word. They were well into the line of tents before Feanne stopped and pulled her arm free.
“Problem, Estin?”
“How does this affect my training?”
Feanne laughed and glanced back towards the fires, where Alafa was still standing, watching them and fidgeting. Giving the girl a little wave, Feanne grinned viciously as Alafa darted away.
“If you take a mate, it will slow down your training I am sure. As will children. Aside from that, it changes nothing.”
“I am not taking a mate!” he snapped, more harshly than he intended. “The girl just showed up. Maybe if I knew her, but having some random doe drag me off to be mated just because your father decided I need something to do on slow nights is not what I was expecting after watching a friend die.”
Feanne grinned that evil smile of hers and nodded, ushering him into a slow walk away from the fires.
“I am aware. My father’s usual style, I’m afraid. He considers himself a matchmaker. If you ask the child, I’m sure she believes you fought off the Turessian on your own and should be lauded as the hero of the pack. No doubt she believes you to be well on your way to pack-leader. My father wields such stories the way you wield swords in hopes of boosting the morale of the pack. This is one of the many reasons I enjoy living outside his reach.”
“What do I do about it?”
“You have some fun tonight,” she offered. “Other than that, there is little to be done. Enjoy the fame while it lasts. He may well have seeded several others in case she was not of your liking. Given that you are the only one of your breed here, he has probably picked an assortment that will pounce on you at various times in the hopes that one…or several…catch your fancy. It is an easy way for him to keep our numbers high.”
“That…that is sick, Feanne. I don’t mind the attention, but I don’t like the idea of someone breeding me.”
“You dislike that he did this without saying so, or because the little doe is intimdating?”
“A little of both…I wasn’t exactly able to spend a lot of quality time with female wildlings over the last few years. I’m pretty sure humans and wildlings don’t act anything alike.”
“At least Lihuan has only attempted to find a female to bed you. Consider yourself lucky that he had not attempted to arrange a life-mating without asking you.”
“Would I know if he had?”
Feanne hesitated and then shrugged.
“I will come for you after the gathering. I will give you plenty of time to find whatever enjoyment you wish in the meantime. Once it is well into night, I will return to camp and find you. Bring your weapons, if you desire.”
She did not wait for him to answer, before turning north and taking off at a light run through the tents. It took only seconds and she was gone.
Alafa appeared as though summoned in her place.
“What do you like to eat?” she inquired, ears twitching nervously.
“I…I eat mostly fruit, but sometimes bugs, frogs…”
“Thanks!” the girl exclaimed, then raced off in almost the opposite direction of Feanne.
Estin stood alone in the deserted section of the camp, looking back and forth between the directions two females had gone. He was starting to understand why when he had once told his father, “Girls are icky,” and his father had instead replied, “No, girls are not icky…they’re just scary and eat souls.” He had laughed at the time, but now he was regretting his doubt.
The remainder of the day Estin spent in his tent, mostly avoiding getting himself into further predicaments. He sat on the ground, rubbing oil onto his sword’s blade, both for something to do and to strip the last of the blood from the weapon. Black tarry blood had stuck to it after attacking the Turessian the night before and wherever it had been left on the metal, small spots of rust now marred the blade.
His second weapon had been waiting for him in the tent when he returned, likely brought back by whoever had brought the ogre’s body in. This too, was badly rusted and needed a great deal of care.
So focused was he on scraping off the nicks in the blade’s edge and cleaning away every last little reminder of the fight with the Turessian, that he very nearly lost a finger when Alafa abruptly started talking behind him.
“They are starting to dish up soups, vegetables, and some fruit,” she said, as though there was no reason to announce herself. “You may want to hurry. The Keeper is threatening to mix meat into all the pots. Deer meat.”
“Did she say that to everyone, or just you?”
Alafa snorted and Estin swore he heard her stomp her hoof behind him.
“She just told me. I was asking her to please move away from the stew pots. It’s just common sense that you don’t let one of them near our food.”
“One of…them?
“Predators!” the girl said, going even more wide-eyed. “I’ve seen the way she pushes you around. It’s how they all are. We’re just lucky that Lihuan’s so good to everyone. I’ve heard that some packs actually claimed they would let our kind in, then just killed everyone without fangs and claws.”
Estin held up his hand, showing his thick claws.
“Those aren’t the same. Those are for climbing. That’s why you use that.”
She tapped the blade of the sword, but flinched away at the ring it made.
“I suppose,” he noted, wiping the loose oil off the weapon, then sliding it into the simple sheath that he had pieced together for it. He looped a knot in the belt he had fastened the sheaths to, then turned to follow Alafa out of the tent.
As she had said, it was nearing time for the gathering. The sun was disappearing behind the mountain peaks, casting long shadows in its passing.
Throughout the camp, the scents of many different foods being prepared lingered in the air, along with the hanging scent of basic stews that must have been in large abundance to not only feed the camp, but to occasionally overpower the smell of cooking vegetables and meats.
It all made Estin’s mouth water, even more so as he realized that his last meal had been at dusk the night before. He had not even thought about eating. It had been a very hard day and food was rather low on his list of priorities. Given what random beatings Feanne had in mind for the night’s training, he doubted he could risk not eating much longer.
“You look really hungry,” Alafa said, giving his arm a tug. “Lihuan’s making us all eat in the middle of the camp, so we’ll just have to find a good spot where there’s real food and not a big pile of dead things.”
Estin felt as though he were being dragged around by an invisible leash as the girl grabbed his hand and practically pulled him off his feet towards the middle of camp. It took him most of the way to the gathering to begin to understand why Alafa was getting under his fur. Spending so much time in the city had taught him to depend on himself to survive…everything about the girl made him think that she was a hazard, likely needing the protection of the pack to survive, whether she believed it or not.
He did not have the heart to break it to her that after living in a city for most of his life, he had grown quite accustomed to eating beef and chicken, even if
fruit and such were still his preferred meals. As such, the scents of cooking meats were making his mouth water very nearly as much as any other smells. He guessed that Alafa not only would not be happy about the idea, but might well run in a circle screaming if he so much as mentioned a chicken stew.
He thought that perhaps he could keep that as a backup plan if she continued obsessing about him.
That reminded him that he needed to have a long talk with Lihuan before things got any more uncomfortable. The last thing he needed while trying to fit in among the camp was more young females believing that he was actively looking, or that he was intending to breed anytime soon. Not that he had any real problem with the idea of random females throwing themselves at him, but the thought that strangers actually wanted to have children with him after just meeting him left him with a stomachache.
He watched Alafa bound along in front of him and genuinely wondered if he would ever be ready for that. Back in Altis, he had not exactly been given opportunity and so had not given the thought much time. He had been with women…not wildlings…but women nonetheless and had been unmoved by any desire to settle in with a life-mate and have a tent full of little ones, let alone with a perfect stranger.
At that moment, Estin had a sudden thought of ringtailed deer bounding through the trees and very nearly burst out laughing. Thankfully, Alafa must not have heard him choke on the laugh.
They soon came out into the open middle of the village, with its burned-black center where the funeral pyres had been blazing for much of the day. Now, they were large piles of ash that had been wetted down to keep from blowing too far.
“I need a minute,” Estin said, prying his hand free of Alafa’s.
Without waiting to see her reaction, Estin walked towards the piles of ash, feeling the radiant warmth from them even before he began to feel the heated dust underfoot. Kneeling at the edge of the pile, he lowered his head in reverence before the fallen, feeling the ash and crumbling bits of wood crunch under his knees.
“What are you doing?” hissed Alafa, tugging at his arm. “We need to go.”
“Give me a moment to say goodbye,” he snapped, refusing to be moved. Every time he managed to work up the images of the deceased, the girl tugged at him again.
“We don’t do that!”
Estin lifted his head and glared at her, losing patience quickly. Though most of the other wildlings were ignoring him, a few were staring at him like Alafa, giving her statement some credence. Apparently, he had made some kind of error in the village.
“Why?” he inquired, though he did not stand. “Why do we not mourn the dead?”
Alafa looked to be on the verge of genuinely waving her arms and yelling in some kind of fit.
“We…we just don’t. It’s not right. They’re dead and we need to move on.”
“What she means,” stated Feanne on Estin’s other side, having appeared silently yet again, “is that they consider it bad luck. Many of the pack members are superstitious about the dead and believe that acknowledging the dead will inhibit pregnancy.”
Alafa squeaked and dove behind Estin, physically using him as a shield between herself and Feanne.
“It’s true,” Alafa whispered near his ear, her fingers clinging to the back of his vest. “Did you know that she hates males? I heard it from all the females.”
“I also eat cubs. Oh, I forgot,” Feanne exclaimed, tugging at the leather clothing she wore, “I also skin plant-eaters for my leather and the occasional snack. Estin, could I see you alone near that pile of knives over there?”
Squealing as though she had been struck, Alafa fully hid behind him now, nearly dragging Estin off his knees as he tried to remain at least moderately dignified.
“Make her go away, Estin!”
“Ladies, this is not going to work. Isn’t there supposed to be a feast? I can’t exactly join in with the two of you bickering.”
“Fine, we will just throw the doe in the stew and have a proper celebration.”
Alafa let out a full scream right in his ear, nearly deafening Estin, then raced away.
“I’m guessing that’s not approved behavior by your father?”
Feanne snickered and wagged her tail amusedly.
“Rarely do I do things my father would approve of. However, it is all talk. I would not harm another member of the pack. Besides, how can I be faulted? The girl’s practically screaming, ‘Feanne, come eat me. I’m such a tasty little morsel.’ The only way she could make it worse is if she got all her friends together and then ran screaming as a group in front of me after I had not eaten for several days.”
“Just go easy on her, please?”
Feanne’s eyes glittered amusedly, but she said nothing further.
Standing slowly, Estin gave one more sad nod at the piles of ashes, then prepared to follow Feanne. Instead, he found himself staring in surprise as she took a knee, touching some of the ash to her forehead, then rose and walked away.
Estin followed Feanne as she made her way towards a row of large pots, sitting atop small fires. Asrahn, Ulra, and nearly a dozen others were dishing out the stews to each pack member who approached.
His nose twitching as he attempted to identify the contents of the pots, Estin approached the lines of wildlings. It took a moment to determine which end was which, but there were several of the breeds that he knew the diet of, allowing him to guess at which pots contained vegetables and which had meat.
Estin began to move towards the disorganized group that was waiting for vegetable stew, fruits, and other delicacies. As he made for the back of the line, he froze when Alafa approached, two older deer wildlings at her back. He recognized the markings on their fur as most likely her parents. The girl was bouncing about and pointing at him and smiling, then pointing at Feanne and glaring as she talked. He could almost imagine every word she said, based entirely on the erratic gesturing.
For the briefest of moments, he considered putting up with the insanity just long enough to get at the food, but when he saw the doe bounce uncontrollably up and down staring at him, he found himself completely unable to force his feet forward. The girl somehow terrified him, destroying the small amount of self-respect he had left.
“Shall I have someone take your food to your tent?” mocked Feanne, standing at his side. “I do believe you are not making it out of there again this evening. Does put a damper on Asrahn’s training, but I do applaud you for at least learning to enjoy yourself around here.”
“Let’s get in line,” he told her, turning left and approaching the other group.
Nearly two dozen wolves, bears, coyotes, foxes, and mountain lion wildlings turned and stared at him. Though he did not want to look, he guessed there was a similar reaction from the other line.
“Not your best choice,” Feanne whispered, looking shocked and a little uncomfortable. “Are you somehow trying to make fun of me? If so, I do not get the joke. Please go with the other fruit-eaters.”
“I’ll eat meat today, until I figure out how to shake off Alafa. It doesn’t bother me too much.”
Feanne gave him a horrified stare, then frantically looked around at the others milling about them. She grabbed his arm and started to drag him from the line.
“What are you trying to do?” she demanded quietly. “Omnivores get vegetables and ask someone else to grab them some meat. You put yourself in the meat-eaters’ line and there really is no going back. They are going to think you are some kind of crazy person…it’s like a cow eating steak…you just do not do it. It is not right and a lot of the pack members will have a very big issue with it.”
“What kind of issue?”
“The kind where you disappear one night and Lihuan gets very angry.”
“Why is this such a big deal?”
Feanne seemed genuinely afraid or shocked by the whole situation, glancing over her shoulder at the others, who were starting to go back to what they were doing before.
“Imagine a pack of wolves t
aking down a buck near a water-hole. They set to feeding, only to realize that another deer has not only walked up and stood among them, but begun eating part of their food. How long do you think that deer would last once the surprise wore off?”
“So that’s why you are so willing to attack me to teach me?” he demanded, his temper flaring. The dream of the night before rose to mind and he felt acutely angry at her. “You see me as your prey? Can you even name my breed, because I can’t? Maybe my people hunt yours.”
Feanne released his arm and took a step away, lowering her eyes slightly.
“Estin, I am sorry, but a predator can always spot prey. You could be as aggressive or brutal as you want, but your breed somehow just announces itself.”
She snatched his hand, turning it over so that his claws were pointing upwards. Holding out her other hand, Feanne showed her claws the same way, the sharpened tips shining in the light of nearby fires.
“Yours are for climbing. Strong, but only slightly sharp. Mine are for cutting and tearing. There is no simpler way to show you.”
“And just what,” he asked, yanking his hand away, “do you intend to teach your prey in the woods tonight?”
Feanne looked hurt, as though he had slapped her.
“I intend to teach you how to be more than your breed. How to protect yourself and others, using the tools you have at your disposal. If that is too much…”
“No. I…I just don’t really feel hungry right now.”
Estin turned and walked away, his stomach growling in protest, even as he made for the woods. He walked quickly, not bothering to look back for the reaction of others. Right then, he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
Striding out of camp, he paced through the dense trees for a little while, trying to cool down before having to confront Feanne and all the hostility she represented.