This new thought stunned him. Was he somehow part wolf?
Again he felt something stir.
Trueborn! Inhuman!
Ash held still, not even breathing as he absorbed the import of the Seer’s words. The old woman had known this future. Couldn’t she have told him more? He shook his head. Mother Latnok’s gift was incomprehensible. She might have known but had been unable to alter a thing.
Ash relaxed in a languid sort of lassitude. He smiled. Pain killers. Wonderful. The mysterious questions caused by the Seer no longer seemed important. He found he wasn’t hungry but took a flask of water out of his pack and drank deeply.
“Well, girl?” he said to the wolf that lay before him.
Seeta looked at him, expectant.
He lay down beside her, his good arm across her back. Seeta’s soft, thick fur gave way to the weight of his arm. The position felt natural and sweetly familiar. He felt a little pang as he remembered his wolfhound, Tynan. Ash had spent many happy hours in just such a position, lying next to the soft warmth of his childhood friend. Breathing deeply he shut his eyes and relaxed. As easily as stepping through a door, he made contact.
“Hello, Seeta. We can talk to each other like this.”
She greeted him, radiating pleasure. Then: “Sorry about the woman.”
Ash’s thoughts darkened. “Thank you for saving her. I’m sorry about your cub.”
Seeta’s tail began to beat the dirt on the floor of the cave, thumping with pleasure. “You are my cub. I will nurse you and you will grow safe and strong and well.”
“I don’t need to nurse,” Ash thought, rejecting the idea. “I have food and water.”
Seeta’s distress was obvious. “The other cub did not nurse and died. You must nurse. You need me.”
Ash remained silent. He projected gentle, loving concepts, nothing specific; meanwhile he continued his touch deeper and deeper into Seeta’s mind. He was surprised by what he discovered: not really the facts of the discovery, because those he had guessed, but by the implications of what he found. Seeta was ill, suffering from the deep psychic distress of the Dark Sankomin. Using mind-touch, Ash tried to share her burden. He let her know that he understood her loss and despair, but somehow it wasn’t enough. For an animal, apparently, seeing was believing. She needed him to nurse, and grow strong with the milk from her body. To not nurse him would cause her psychic pain.
Ash sighed, resigned.
He could heal her. He was sure of it.
Seeta had saved his life. It occurred to him that as the Prince of Delian he had done many disagreeable things in his short existence and with much less of a good reason.
He thought, “Yes, Seeta. Of course I need to nurse. I am a cub after all. Don’t worry. I’ll grow healthy and strong.” To himself he decided that he would only need to nurse for two or three days, no more.
Ash opened his eyes and projected, “Happy now?”
Seeta was unable to answer. Instead she put a paw on his leg. When his reverie was broken, he could still project, but she hadn’t yet learned how to reply. Never mind. He could tell by looking at her what her answer was.
She whined and nuzzled him, wanting him to lie down.
Ash swallowed, feeling queasy. I can do this, he assured himself. Hiding his disgust, he lay down beside Seeta to nurse, to let her help him, so that the loss from the death of her cub could be healed.
To Ash’s dismay, it was twelve weeks before Seeta allowed him to stop nursing. During that time the red winter sky gave way to the darker pine forest hues of spring, and then to the light greens of summer.
Ash lay in the dark of the cave, waiting for sleep to come. The soft sound of Seeta breathing was soothing as she lay next to him. He wasn’t close enough to touch her, but he could feel her warmth radiating in the dark. The heavy musk smell of the wolves had been disturbing at first, but he had learned to enjoy it. Even the biting, bitter scent of Long Fang’s urine, marking his territory, now only made Ash smile. All these things were associated with safety and Seeta. While he still felt uneasy and often uncomfortable around his adopted wolf father, he had no such reservations with his wolf mother. Seeta loved him.
Ash’s arm had healed miraculously. He was amazed by his swift recovery and his ongoing vitality. All that chill winter air and he hadn’t even gotten a cough. In the weeks he had been nursed by Seeta, he had grown over an inch and put on weight. For the first time in his life he didn’t feel ill or weak. He was stronger than ever before, his body an intense, burning flame, more like a bonfire than the flickering candle it had been previously. Was it because of the regenerative properties of wolf milk? Or due to some peculiar healing powers inherent in the atmosphere of Opan?
The planet of Opan had a strange twist to it. Ash felt it must be something to do with the sun’s rays, or how light was filtered. All the flora and fauna seemed to be an unusual color. For example, the twill bird was a vivid orange, and the wolves were bright red. Trees and plants, instead of green, were violet, purple or blue. Those colors just couldn’t be, Ash reasoned. He was sure that the plants survived through photosynthesis and chlorophyll.
Researching Icom he found why. In the atmosphere of Opan was a proliferation of a totally unique aerobic microorganism called hardicoribi. Harmless to plants and animals, its chemical properties had an unusual all-pervading effect. While the sun’s rays came from a normal yellow star, upon passing through hardicoribi each wavelength of light was diffused and altered. It was this that caused the unusual colors. Hardicoribi was inert during low temperatures, its inactive composition creating the red sky and red snow in the cold winter months. In warmer weather the sky became green, reflecting active chlorophyll, again unique to hardicoribi. The result was quite beautiful, but also disturbing. It would take some getting used to, he decided, observing the light green sky.
He was never bored, not with all the animals on Opan to mind-touch. Sometimes he’d spend the entire day in contact with one animal, living and learning everything about it.
There was the simple twill, the orange flightless bird, which had such a huge, ungainly shape. Male twills could weigh up to a hundred and fifty kilograms. The female could lay up to sixty eggs at a time. Ash licked his lips. Twill eggs. Yum. They were quite filling, with a high protein content and a sweet mustard flavor.
Like all birds, the twill had excellent vision. Icom informed him that the native twill had proportionally far more light receptors in the retina than mammals, and many more visual nerve connections. These birds had the ability to perceive beyond normal human range, and were able to detect both ultraviolet light and infrared. Ash found it quite disorienting initially to look through their eyes, to fully view such vibrant colors. Vision from within a twill covered a full spectrum, including the ability to perceive incremental changes of temperature. Heat, surprisingly showed as brilliant white, while colder temperatures registered in light grays, graduating darker and darker until the freezing cold of black .
Ash smiled, remembering. After overcoming the initial vision problems present when mind-touching a twill bird, he was eventually able to make sense of what he was seeing. The twill was always good for a giggle, with its odd body and its even more peculiar thoughts. Thinking for the twill was profoundly slow. Any thought it finally had was almost always based on an entirely incorrect assumption, and usually resulted in an equally ridiculous conclusion.
He had laughed on and off for days the time he had been in contact with a twill and it had come upon the red bush berries. Bush berries were good eating for all animals; even the wolves consumed them if they could find nothing else. The red berries not only tasted good, but they were nutritionally satisfying. This particular day the twill had found some berries that had been warmed by the sun. Usually they grew in the underside of the bush, but in this case some other animal had eaten the normal covering away.
Looking down through the twill bird’s eyes, Ash and the twill had both noticed the berries simultaneously. The b
ird thought with its unbearably slow mental processes, “Berries … berries are for eating.” It radiated pleasure. Ash felt the bird’s gullet move in anticipation. But then it became aware of the warmth in the berries; they radiated a grey-white heat. This was unexpected. Instinctively, the twill became alarmed by anything out of the ordinary.
The creature paused, wondering if it should be afraid.
After a moment’s hesitation, with the certainty of experience, it thought once more: “Berries … berries are for eating.” But then it was once again aware of the unnatural gray-white heat from the berries. Red … red … is … the … color … of … the wolves!” Fear. Then it thought: “Red means wolves, wolves mean death. Terror. Red berries! Quick! Run! They are going to eat me!” And with that the Twill had sped off as fast as its two legs could carry it.
Ash gave a low chuckle, and shook his head. Those poor twills. Hopelessly moronic and not even able to fly. It was lucky that they were able to multiply so rapidly, because they were forever being eaten.
Then there were the whitehawks, with wingspans twice as long as he was tall. Wonderful, cunning birds, whitehawks lived only on freshly killed meat. Flying or hunting with them was the most incredible experience. Their vision, again far superior to human, was sharp from unbelievable distances and from their point of view everything they saw belonged to them. He sighed. After mind-touch with a whitehawk it was always difficult to come back to his heavy, wingless form.
When not engaged in mind-touch, hunting, or finding a meal, Ash spent time learning Opan Basic on Icom. It was spoken with a unique accent, and he was trying to duplicate it so that he would fit in.
The wolves of Opan were living in a World Park area, in theory safe from humankind. There was a small settlement, a town nearby across Deep River. From what he could tell, commerce was flourishing. There were fringe dwellers near the town, commonly called Ferals. These people were “off the grid.” Few if any had had Icom and for various reasons they did not subscribe to the more normal lifestyle. Ash had seen them from afar and had touched some briefly.
Ash was entirely dependent on his adopted wolf family for survival. With the mountain temperature warmer, hunting had not been difficult for the wolves. He planned to visit the fringe and see if he could trade animal pelts for clothes, solar light and heating, and numerous other items he needed.
He was making a mental Icom list of things he might be able to trade, when he finally fell asleep.
It was warm in the den as the wolf family woke to another day. Seeta waged her tail with pleasure, thumping the earth, while Long Fang sat on his haunches, complacently waiting. Ash dressed and gathered his stave.
“Hello, girl,” Ash said to Seeta. “And hello to you, Long Fang,” he added with a polite bow. Long Fang remained motionless, his cool reserve apparent.
Ash’s adopted parents did not reply. Ash knew that they had little patience for his incessant chatter. Wolves were far more aware of subtle changes in physical stance and expression. To a wolf an entire tapestry of information could be transmitted with one tiny shift of an eye: “There, did you notice that bush rat? It is high to the left. You circle, and together we shall flush it out and eat it.” A wolf didn’t need to say these things. Wolves just knew what was meant from a thousand different minute bodily shifts.
To the wolves, Ash’s constant communication was tactless, childish and gauche. It was as if he was of a lower, uneducated social class but they tolerated him anyway. Ash giggled. He was probably the only one in the entire Freeworlds who knew and appreciated how funny the wolves’ attitude toward humanity was.
Silently, the three left the den, moving out into the crisp, still morning air. It was early, yet the sky was clear and green, showing the promise of warmth for a summer day on Opan.
Long Fang studied the cub as they moved off into the forest to hunt. The man-cub was thriving, but was proving useless in the hunt. It had qualities that were at once unfamiliar and yet still had the stamp of Pack. He understood why Seeta wanted the pup. There was a “rightness” there. But what was it? Long Fang sensed the strange blue stones that the cub had on his thigh. They gave off blue light and they were alive yet at the same time dead. Long Fang felt no ill will toward the Delian talisman. There was a “rightness” to those stones, too — but this was not the rightness he felt when he considered the cub.
Long Fang loped far ahead, and sat down on a rocky outcrop. The man-cub followed, lumbering after him, careless and loud. It was stupid. Could it even be trained? He continued his scrutiny, seeking an answer to the unknown. His senses twitched and the hair of his ruff rose. Yes, there was something there, something not human: something animal. Still, Long Fang could not free himself of the thought that this cub was a threat. The man-cub seemed to know what he was thinking. Was the cub aware of his secrets? The idea unsettled him.
Long Fang recalled his first cub. The cub had been born weak and ill. It would not have lived and its drawn out death had caused Seeta pain. There was only one thing to do. While Seeta was out, Long Fang had gone into the den and had lain on it, until it could breathe no more. The sick cub had been too weak to put up an extended fight.
Long Fang had never told Seeta. He had acted correctly. Was it not causing his mate distress? Would it not die anyway? Yes and yes. The cub was better dead sooner than later. But now this man-cub had come. What was it about him? The way the pup looked at him … as if he knew.
Long Fang rose to all fours, his mind made up. The man-cub was dangerous. Seeta had recovered. She would get over the cub’s death without the distress she suffered before. They would have another cub.
He moved ahead, nose to the ground, searching for scent. The cub followed, clumsy and slow on his pathetic two legs. Nearby, Seeta called to him.
“All right, I’m coming,” Ash replied. “I’ll catch up.”
Long Fang had difficulty concealing his irritation from his sharp-eyed mate. The cub held them back and always would. He was slow and weak, even with the scent of animal upon him.
Long Fang knew that the life a wolf leads would kill the man-cub. This interloper would perish through his own weakness, his inability to survive. The time would come and he, Long Fang, would be ready when it did. Soon. Soon now the cub would die. Resolved, Long Fang trotted off to begin the hunt.
They traveled for some hours, stopping at a stream to drink, resting often and moving slowly, at a pace that Ash could manage. Long Fang’s nostrils quivered. Ah, a snout. Perhaps now was the time. The snout was a dangerous foe. This one was hidden down in a nearby thicket. Long Fang stopped. “Seeta,” he said, touching noses. “There’s a snout in that gully.” He nodded in the opposite direction to the thicket. “You and I will kill it. We will leave the cub here.”
“I thought I scented the snout over near the thicket. Could there be two?”
“No,” Long Fang snapped, displaying his teeth. “Come.” He trotted off.
Seeta gave Ash a long look communicating, “Stay.” Then she obediently trailed behind her mate.
Ash stood near some blue-leafed trees and bushes. A soft breeze tickled his long black hair across his face, so he pushed it back behind his ear. He would have to cut it soon. A few white clouds billowed across the light green Opan skies. Blue, green and white. Opan was not unlike Delian, except on Delian the sky was blue and the trees were green. He didn’t even want to think about the reds of winter. The air was crisp and fresh, but he felt warm in the last of the clothes he had taken with him in a pack from Assurance. That was another thing he would need to get, more clothes. Particularly as he was rapidly outgrowing these.
The wolves had evidently scented something, and they wanted him to stay here. Their physical communications were tremendously subtle, but he was catching on. Ash had been jogging steadily for some time and he was happy to rest. Hunting had built up his muscles, but no matter how strong he became, he was never able to keep up. With winter over, the pack had disbanded, returning to their family groups.
Today it was just Ash, Seeta, and Long Fang on the search for fresh meat.
With nothing to occupy himself, Ash did what he often did with his free time. He moved to the purple trunk of a tree and, rested against it. Then he shut his eyes and began to search for some animal to mind-touch.
Ash smiled, fleetingly contacting Seeta. She was excited and looking forward to a meal of snout. From the pictures in her mind it looked like boar. Good. It would be a change from an old stringy twill bird, yellow rat or pig-dog. Would it taste like Delian swine?
Ash recoiled in surprise — he had touched something different, but what was it? With reaching mental fingers, he took hold.
Contact.
His hands gripped the tree convulsively. Ash felt huge, strong and powerful, the master of his territory. Had he mind-touched the snout? It was certainly an animal, and it was mad. Disoriented, Ash focused, attempting to see though the eyes of the animal he inhabited.
The animal thought: “Something is in my territory. Small and weak, it may make good eating. It stands there unmoving. Why?” A burning fury consumed him, starting within his chest and spreading throughout his flesh, down to each of his four limbs. Ash swelled and tingled with anger. “It stands still: it is taunting me. I’ll show it who the Master of the forest is.”
Ash swayed with the effort to maintain contact. The boar’s rage was so fierce! Fighting for control, he finally saw through the animal’s eyes. The animal was staring … at him. It was going to charge!
Ash broke contact with the boar instantly.
“Seeta!” he projected, “Save me!”
Ash swung around and saw the snout bearing down on him. The Opan swine was enormous, over twice the size of Long Fang. It was a light blue color with muscles that bunched under its smooth coat. Four gigantic pinkish tusks pointed straight toward him, long enough to run him through. Powerfully built, it was moving with incredible speed for its size, like a full-grav freightship during re-entry.
WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) Page 20