The Auburn Prince

by Adam Zmarzlinski

  “What about you two?” Clementine asked. “You have color, what are you doing here?”

  “The same thing you are,” the gecko said.

  “Which is?” the fox said.

  “We travel to see the Soundsmith,” Nir said. “We need his aid and advice. He sees beyond the exterior of beings, he can see the malicious curse in us and, if we’re lucky, he’ll help us regain our past.”

  “Great!” Clementine said with a smile. “You two should join us. It’s always better to travel together, especially in a strange land such as this.”

  “No way,” the fox protested. “We don’t know them, Clementine. They are complete strangers to us.” Quickly, he ran up to her and whispered, “For all we know they are allies with the huntsmen.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, “but sometimes you just feel somewhere deep down that someone is good. You don’t know you just feel it, here in the belly.”

  “Do you want to take that chance?” the fox asked. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “What if I’m not?”

  The fox’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t answer a question with a question,” he said and she gave him a sarcastic smile and an eye roll.

  “Be less critical of others,” she said. “Marcus Aurelius says—

  “What did I say? Enough with the quotes,” the fox interrupted.

  She turned toward Mika and Nir. “Well what do you say,” she began. “Travel companions or no?”

  “Yes!” Mika barked excitedly and after a few skips stood next to the fox.

  The fox grew annoyed and angry with Clementine’s decision.

  “We travel together,” Nir said and gave off a hearty laugh. “As the old F’Quareerian saying goes: all travelers are children who wish never to go home. Let us journey onwards.”

  “Great!” Clementine said.

  The fox mumbled a curse under his breath. Clementine scorned him with a look then smiled at their new companions, turned and reached for the gray satchel. A plume of smoke and ash burst out of the bag, blinding Clementine, who fell back on her behind. Out from the satchel emerged a dozen long black insect legs. A loud shrill pierced the air and a loud ringing dammed all outside noise from entering their ears.

  Out from the satchel emerged a smoke engulfed creature with a flat, segmented body, long antennas and a hundred legs. Their color flowed into it, making it grow large and thick like a tree trunk. The shadow centipede shrieked once more and attacked Clementine with its long venom filled fang. Before it could pierce Clementine, the fox jumped up on the creature’s back and bit its antenna, tugging it back and knocking the creature off balance.

  The centipede arched its back and dislodged the fox, who fell awkwardly into a bush. Quickly, the creature stood over him. It wrapped its legs around his body and with one mighty throw whipped him against the nearest tree. With a loud thud, the fox fell to the ground unconscious. Clementine stood up, her ears still ringing; she searched for a weapon, a fallen branch, something, anything. She found nothing.

  The centipede quickly skittered toward her. She dodged its initial leg swipes but became overwhelmed by their number and fell back down. The creatures prepared for another attempt to poison its prey and just like before, it was stopped. Mika bit into the creature’s underside, pulling it back and tearing a large chunk of its black armor away. The centipede gave off a whining sound and swiped at the beagle who was far too quick for the arthropod. She bit in and tore off several more pieces of the creature’s armor before tearing off one of its antennas.

  “Get out of here,” Mika told Clementine, who heard the dog’s voice faintly.

  Clementine stood up and noticed the unconscious fox. She tried to reach him but the centipede’s thrashing body cut her off. She turned west to see the turquoise thing run past. She followed it with her eyes as it vanished into the distance, where she noticed a large fallen tree branch, a weapon. She ran toward it. Mika continued assaulting the centipede, which, without most of its armor, resembled a soft gray worm.

  The creature saw Clementine running and, like a serpent, it spiraled around Mika, getting past her, and focusing on its prey. Before Clementine could reach the tree branch, she felt a heavy kick on her back. She flew forward a few yards, hitting the mossy forest floor hard. While turning sideways the centipede struck: it pierced Clementine’s jacket. The girl felt immense pain surging from the left side of her abdomen.

  The centipede gave off a horrid screech. Clementine looked up at her attacker to see a whiteness spread from the creature’s head, across its body, to the tip of its back legs. The centipede thrashed around before fading away into a cloud of ash, leaving large chunks of coal behind on the forest floor.

  “Are you all right?” Mika asked running up to her.

  Clementine sat up. She observed the moving pieces of coal and said, “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “What happened?” Mika asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Clementine said. The beagle observed the girl’s face before turning and sniffing the smoking coal chunks. Clementine looked down at her jacket, where the centipede struck. She put her finger through the hole to feel something hard on the other side. Out of her jacket pocket, she pulled out Meditations. A large hole sat in the right corner of its cover. She flipped open the book, to see the hole end where the handkerchief sat as a bookmark. The moving lines gave off a soft glow. After checking her side, where a large bruise was forming, Clementine understood, smiled and placed the book back in her pocket.

  “Thank you,” she said and stood up. Across from her, carved upon a tree sat the words, “Of the evil that you do not see, there are always three.” She stared at the text for a moment, trying to recall where she had seen them before but when nothing came to her, she walked up to the carving and traced it with her fingers. A chill ran up her spine and she felt that someone was watching her. Quickly she spun around and scanned the woods. A deep ambiance of loneliness permeated each tree. The outside world seemed distant and Clementine felt an all-encompassing inadequacy stemming from a sudden belief that no matter how far she was willing to travel, she would never reach her goal.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” a whisper sounded from beyond the trees.

  Her heartbeat quickened, her palms grew sweaty and goose bumps scurried up her arms. The world grew dark then in the distance, standing between two sycamores, she saw a strange boy in torn clothes, a soft kaleidoscopic light permeating from him. The boy stared at Clementine. His eyes were like static-filled TV screens. Panic consumed her. She stepped back, her hand touched the tree and utter hopelessness flooded her being. A streak of bright turquoise, like thick paint on canvas, flashed before her. Then boy was gone. The darkness faded, the sense of panic and hopelessness left her.

  “The turquoise thing is out there,” she said.

  The trees watched her.

  “The centipede thing is dead,” Mika said startling Clementine.

  “Good,” Clementine said and they walked back to where the fox lay. Clementine knelt by her friend and gently roused him. He opened his eyes; his world spun.

  “Mr. Fox, how are you feeling?” Clementine asked. Dazed, he looked around.

  “Where did that thing go?” he asked her.

  “It’s gone,” Clementine said. “It left behind only coal and ash, like the scorpion.”

  “This has happened before?” Nir asked.

  Clementine nodded. Mika and Nir’s eyes met and the dog quickly ran up to and examined the bag, after which she brought it back to Clementine. “It doesn’t smell like anything at all, Papa,” she said.

  “You don’t smell coal or smoke, maybe a scent of rot?” Nir asked.

  “Nothing,” Mika said. The gecko frowned and said some incantations. Color flowed from him onto the bag, which made it sparkle. “My cleansing spell didn’t pick up anything vile,” Nir told Clementine. The fox regained his composure and sat
up.

  “We should get moving,” he said. “The sooner we reach the Soundsmith, the safer we’ll all be.” The others agreed. Clementine offered her shoulder as a ride for the gecko who took the bid with a gracious, “Thank you.”

  A primeval forest consumed the sycamores. The trees grew rough: aged by time, their crowns wild, trunks thick, roots dipping in and out of the ground. Little light got past the dense canopy, but every so often, there stood large clearings of light whose centers were populated by hundred-year-old firs. Coarse woody debris littered the forest floor, which did not bode well for Clementine’s feet.

  They stopped on two occasions: once so that Clementine could take off the fox’s reed boot, which began to bother him, the other to pick and feast on some plums, which grew in the middle of one of the fir clearings. After stuffing Clementine’s satchel with plums, they journeyed on, circling around a part of the forest that lay completely wrecked: fallen trees stretched off into the distance.

  “Must have been a great storm that swept through,” Mika noted.

  “Must have,” the fox said. He sat on a fallen tree for a moment observing the shattered trunks and splintered branches that desperately reached up into the sky hoping for someone to save them from their earthly agony. The sky scrutinized their cries with cold indifference.

  They stopped here as well when they found a clear spring. Clementine saw distinct brown colors move between the gray trees and went into the thicket to investigate. Past a rotting tree trunk, she saw a family of deer: a slender doe with an admirable coat, a stag with thick caramel antlers, and a pied faun with a vibrant sunburned back. “They’re majestic,” Mika said, as her, the fox and the gecko emerged from behind Clementine.

  The doe and the stag looked at them. The faun dragged its hoof along the ground. Clementine sensed something was wrong and she carefully walked toward them. “What are you doing?” the fox said. Clementine ignored him and walked up to the deer, who curiously observed her.

  “Hi little one,” she said, kneeling before the faun, petting it on the head. She examined its front legs and found a snare wrapped around its front right hoof. “I see.” The stag gave of a threatening grunt only for the doe to nudge herself between him and Clementine. The girl loosened the snare and slipped the fauns hoof through. The little one hopped around in joy and joined the doe. The deer’s color grew more vibrant. Clementine stood up and the family walked up to her. After she pet each of them, they wondered deeper into the woods.

  “If there is a snare, there are people,” the fox began. “We should go.”

  The turquoise thing watched them from the thicket.

  Trekking on, the fox lead the group along. He did not do so out of a sense of duty, but simply out of the need to be alone. He grew annoyed with Clementine and Nir’s conversation on Meditations, Marcus Aurelius, and literature in general. Although interested, he thought it better to focus on the scouting of the road ahead for potential dangers than to get lost in a conversation of distractions. Mika’s presence also irked him. She seemed to possess an infinite supply of energy, constantly sniffing and hopping around him.

  “Your tail is nice,” Mika told him. “It’s super fluffy. Not like my tail. Mine just wags and wags; yours has an aura of grace to it.”

  “That’s nice,” he said.

  “I like your ears, too,” she said. “I like how they perk and stand upright unlike my floppy ones. I can’t move my ears around like you can. Look, you see. They don’t even move. I wish I had your ears.”

  “That’s nice,” he said.

  “I like your snout. It’s gradual, slick, almost regal, not like mine. Mine is fat and wobbly. Look at my lips! Look at them. You see how flabby and puffy they are. Not like yours, yours are well placed, as if you were a puppet fox and not a real one at all.”

  “That’s nice,” he said.

  “Is it?” she asked.

  The fox stopped and turned to her. “You talk about your tail, and ears and snout, and how much you envy the look of those things on me. You need to stop doing that, stop comparing yourself to me. You have a lifetime ahead of living with yourself, don’t get caught up in the appearance side of things because oftentimes, what looks good on the outside is not so good for us on the inside. Strive for happiness, because joy and its cousin, confidence have the biggest impact on our physical appearance. Do you understand?”

  “I like the way you say things,” she said. “You have this eloquent way of explaining how it all works. Not like me, I’m all over the place. Sometimes I talk about this, other times I talk about that. You know, it’s like how do I explain the difference between stuff and things to people? I don’t know, but you’ve got it down. I wish I had your speech skills.”

  The fox sighed. “That’s nice,” he said and walked on.

  “You really like to repeat yourself,” she said. “You’ve repeated ‘nice’ a few times now. Is that your favorite word? Mine is mellifluous. It means ‘sweet-sounding’ or ‘flowing with honey.’ Do you get it? Mellifluous, sweet-sounding. That’s funny, huh? Well if ‘nice’ isn’t your favorite word, then why repeat it so many times?”

  The fox gave off an annoyed grunt.

  “Is something wrong?” Mika asked. “You know that grunting is associated with pain? Is your paw still hurting? Maybe Clementine should wrap it up again. What happened? Did you fall? Or maybe you twisted it while walking on some stones? Or maybe that’s just your way of walking, you know, it’s like your style of walking? As a fox, you’re pretty stylish. You like fashion or no?”

  “Both,” the fox said.

  “Both?” she said. “What an odd answer? You know that you can’t answer both if the choice was an or? But if I said and then…”

  The fox sighed and tried mighty hard to ignore the beagle.

  Clementine and Nir were ignorant of the fox’s annoyance. Trailing behind the fox and the hound, they conversed about the fact that all four of them had color in Mundialis.

  “We travel the land of the Other,” the gecko explained, “a land of selfishness and singular desires. People only look out for themselves here. Only the ‘I’ matters in Mundialis. Color is the opposite of ‘I’. It’s a representation of ‘we,’ it’s the cooperation of hues to form a beautiful whole. Scholars say that the existence of color in Mundialis is based on love. And because color is a very valuable commodity here, much like oil on Earth or fresh water in Mirgoza, love is just as valuable. Color is joy, it’s pleasure, it’s everything that Men desire in the simple form of a hue.

  “Mika and I have color in us because we love one another, as a father loves his daughter and vice versa. You see Clementine, a person who only loves herself is a person draped in gray. Color and love always come in pairs. Love feeds on love and love alone. Nothing else can feed it. Nothing! That is why it’s so strange that both you and the fox are aglow with so much vibrancy, so much love. Unless it’s philia, the enduring love between lifetime friends. During which each friend strengthens the love given off by the other, creating a pool of adoration to share in and enjoy together.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I’m not quite sure about anything since arriving here. You know, I just don’t know.”

  “Of course, you don’t,” the gecko chuckled. “You can only know of one thing at a time; however, you are always aware of a lot more.”

  Clementine smiled. “You seem like a wise lizard; do you remember who you were before the curse?” she asked.

  “Sometimes,” he said. “Most of the time I’m stuck trying to figure out who I am now.”

  At midafternoon, they stopped at a barren clearing near a stream to pick gray gooseberries off a colorless bush. Resting, they silently listened to the stream’s soothing melody as the water softly rolled over the flat pebbles. The fox rallied them back on the road. Growing bored with his lack of responses to her, Mika accompanied Clementine.

  “I really like your jacket,” the beagle said. “Sometimes, when my memory flows back in, I remember all
the interesting and nice things I used to wear as a girl: colorful sundresses, elegant hats and cute shoes.”

  “I don’t care much for stuff like that,” Clementine said. “But it’s nice to dress up once in a while. It makes you feel pretty, boosts your confidence.” She glanced at the green of her jacket and the yellow of her shirt. A memory of a time when Alice bought her a lime-green sundress with flower prints swirled about in her head. At the time, she did not like the dress: its color was garish, its prints too girly. She fussed over having to wear it out in public, going as far as throwing a tantrum once or twice, and yet deep down, Clementine was thankful to her mother for gifting it to her. “I should have been a bit more grateful,” she thought. In retrospect, she longed for the gifts her parents gave her, no matter how unusual they had seemed to be. Now, she would have been more than happy to wear the lime green flower print dress. “Mom would have had the biggest smile on her face,” she thought and became melancholy, her thought growing philosophical, “Often, we appreciate more the warmth that accompanies the act of receiving than the item that we were given. We care more about the thought than the thing.”

  She recalled making a card for her mom’s birthday, drawing flowers and tracing a horse from a nature magazine. “It was so childish,” Clementine thought. And yet, Alice hugged her tight and they spent the rest of the day searching for seashells off the Thai coast. The memory of the sensation of warm sand on the soles of her feet made Clementine smile and when it faded and she mentally returned to the present, she fell right into Mika’s story, one of her remaining memories of skipping stones off a lake.

  With her tongue flailing about, the beagle looked up at Clementine and said, in a matter-of-fact tone, “You know, I know all there is to know about nothing.”

  “Is that so,” Clementine said, smiling. “Can you be called insightful then, if you know all there is to know about nothing?”