by Cindy Lin
“I—I didn’t,” Nezu stammered.
“Whoever you claim to be, you’re not welcome here,” said the hermit angrily, giving his club a shake. “I’ve managed to stay alive this long and I won’t have you younglings exposing me.”
“Forgive us, sir,” said Inu, shooting a glare at Nezu. “We haven’t presented ourselves properly.” He gave their names and ruling animals to the hermit. “You don’t have to believe our claim of being Heirs, but we’re trying to stay away from the Blue Dragon’s men—just like you. We don’t mean to intrude like this, but we didn’t expect anyone to be here.”
“I wasn’t going to show myself until I was sure you weren’t one of his,” the man admitted. He grinned, exposing a gap-toothed smile riddled with brown-stained teeth.
Saru bowed. “We only mean to stay at the lake for a few days. We’ll make sure not to disturb you, and wouldn’t mention your existence to anyone—as long as you do the same for us.”
Yunja barked a laugh. “Who would I tell? You’re the first people I’ve laid eyes on in five years.” He turned his gaze to Usagi, who squirmed and looked down at her rope slippers. They were soaked from the dripping moisture in the cloud forest, mud caking her toes.
The hermit grunted. “Is she an Heir too?”
Saru put a hand on Usagi’s shoulder. “This youngling isn’t an Heir, but she does have talent. It’s rough and undeveloped. We’re hoping to change that.”
“Hmphf.” The man scratched his neck, dislodging a patch of crusted dirt, and pointed ahead through the thick foliage. “Follow my boys and they’ll take you down to the lakeshore. There’s decent fishing and a few spots where you can stay pretty dry.” He half growled, half yelped at the three wild dogs, made some clicking noises at the back of his throat, then abruptly turned and disappeared back into the trees.
“That was unexpected,” Nezu commented. He eyed the dogs. “Think there are any more like him hiding on the island?”
Inu slung his bow over his shoulder. “Hermits with powers? Who knows? In all our missions, he’s the first we’ve ever come across.”
The dogs trotted ahead, looking back from time to time to make sure the Heirs and Usagi were following. Inu would occasionally rumble at them and get a huff or a shake of the head in response.
“According to the dogs, Yunja’s been their master for five winters—since they were pups. They’ve never seen any other people up here,” Inu reported.
Usagi wondered what it would be like to live alone for years at a time, with no one to talk to but a trio of dogs. She couldn’t talk to any animals—not even rabbits. If she’d stayed in the woods outside Goldentusk and avoided all people, she probably wouldn’t have lasted very long before craving company. She’d been lucky to have her sister and Tora. Sighing, Usagi shifted her pack and leaned on her walking stick. Her sore shoulders throbbed and every muscle in her legs cried out for a break.
“Spirits be praised!” said Saru. “I can see the lake.”
The steep pitch of the path veered downward, and the waters of the lake glimmered through the trees. The sun was sinking, and the red glow it cast across the sky was reflected on the lake’s surface, throwing a rosy light over everything. “Beautiful,” Usagi breathed.
The dogs watched as they set up camp in a little clearing by the lake, then trotted away into the cloud forest as Inu barked at them. Usagi looked at him curiously. He shrugged. “Just telling them thanks.”
They left their packs beneath a bower of trees, and went looking for food. Saru found a stand of fig trees, the branches heavy with fruit—and an entire troop of golden monkeys clutching half-eaten figs in their sticky paws. The monkeys shrieked and bared their teeth at Usagi, but Saru swung easily into a tree and waved her arms, hooting until they scampered away.
“You’re not the only monkeys around here,” Saru shouted after them, and laughed. She tossed fig after fig to Usagi until they’d gathered a whole sackful.
Usagi couldn’t resist sneaking a taste, sinking her teeth into the honey-sweet flesh of a juicy purple one and crunching on the tiny seeds. She’d never had a fresh fig before—only dried ones, and even those were worth their weight in gold. Next to this, sugarcane was as bland as straw.
Uma would love these. Usagi’s heart twinged as she remembered how her sister would carefully divide up any precious sweets they found, always making sure everyone had at least a taste of honeysuckle nectar or wolfberry. Even that shriveled piece of sugarcane Usagi scavenged for her—Uma had given it away to Jago. How were they faring now?
She resolved to try for another peek in the Mirror of Elsewhere. Ever since she’d had the chance to see her sister through it, Usagi had pestered Inu for another look. If she could, she’d be checking in on Uma every moment of the day. But the Dog Heir had refused.
“If you’re not careful, you start spending all your time looking Elsewhere, and stop paying attention to your actual surroundings,” he’d told her. “The 19th Dog Warrior was forced to step down after he stopped eating and drinking—he wasted half away from doing nothing but staring into the Mirror.”
At the campsite, they showed their pickings to the boys, who’d come back with a couple of fat ducks. Nezu soon had a cookfire going, and set about wrapping some of the figs in meat and spitting them on sticks to roast. Usagi took off her shoes to dry near the heat of the flames. She held up a foot in the warm air and wriggled her mud-crusted toes.
“Oi, get your muddy paws away from dinner,” Nezu grimaced. “Wash off, will you? Unless you’re going for the hermit look.”
Usagi waggled both feet at him. “Maybe I am! It’d save me the trouble of bathing.” She ducked as Nezu threw a handful of feathers in her direction.
“I’ll come with you,” Saru said. “You too, Inu! A swim would do you good.”
Inu finished cleaning his hunting gear, then stretched. “All right,” he said, and ambled behind Saru and Usagi as they made their way to the shore. A gibbous moon rose, glowing three-quarters full, and brightened as it drifted higher in the sky, its light bouncing hard off the lake’s glassy surface.
Dipping her hands into the cool water, Usagi briskly rubbed her arms and face. It felt so good to wash off the dust and sweat of their travels. She noticed a motionless, dark shape in the lake. From this distance it looked like a whale floating on the surface of the water.
She pointed it out as Inu and Saru sloshed in. “What’s in the middle of the lake?”
Inu squinted. “Wolf Snot Isle. A big rock, really.” He took a breath and dove briefly beneath the surface, popping up a few seconds later. “Gods, that does feel good.”
“Funny name,” Usagi commented.
Saru laughed. “It’s from the tale about the Wolf and the Wind God. Each night the Wind God would throw the moon through the heavens for his loyal companion to catch, until the Wolf dropped it on this spot, where it stuck fast. The Wolf pawed and pawed till great hills of earth rose up all around the moon, but still it wouldn’t come out. When the sun appeared for daytime, there was so much light that everyone nearly went blind. The seas began to boil, crops couldn’t grow properly, and no one slept a wink. The Wind God had to put the moon back in the sky and promise the other gods that the Wolf would never play with it again. It made the Wolf so sad that his tears filled the hole left by the moon, turning it into this lake. But the gods would not be budged. To this day, the full moon will set a pack of dogs howling.”
Inu waded over and splashed Saru. “That’s enough of the old yarns. One of these days I’ll tell the story of how the Monkey caused so much mischief that he was banished by the gods to clean up after the horses in their stables. To this day, a monkey will still throw poop when he’s angry at you.”
Saru flung some water back at Inu, and before long the three of them were kicking and splashing at each other, laughing and screaming, until they were neck-deep in the lake.
Usagi heard Nezu’s voice in the distance. “We’re being called for dinner.”
Inu cocked his head. “I don’t hear anything.” He sniffed. “I do smell something though. Meat’s definitely done.”
Back at the camp, they found the hermit Yunja seated by the cookfire, tearing into a skewer of roast duck while his three dogs sat at a polite distance, drooling. The hermit barely stopped to wave, so intent was he on his meal. Occasionally he would stop and throw a morsel at one of his dogs, who would snatch it out of midair with a flash of sharp teeth and a slavering gulp.
“He stopped by to check on us, so I invited him to share our meal,” Nezu said cheerfully. “You might want to hurry before he eats everything.” He frowned at the three of them. “You’re soaked. Were you trying to drown yourselves?”
Smiling, Saru lifted her arms. “A little help, if you please, Water Rat.”
“Hold still,” Nezu commanded, and raised his palms. Furrowing his brow, he circled his hands slowly in the air. With a sudden flick, he threw his arms wide.
Usagi felt a pulling sensation and then a spray of water shot from her in all directions. The clammy wetness against her skin disappeared. She looked down, then checked behind her. She, Saru, and Inu were standing in a circle of damp earth, and their clothes were bone-dry. Usagi touched her hair. Also dry, and no longer plastered to her forehead. “What a useful gift,” she marveled.
“Oi,” spluttered the hermit from behind them. “That’s a nice trick you got there, but you could have directed it away from me.” Yunja was covered in a sheen of water that beaded on his hollow cheeks and dripped off his mud-smeared beard. He shook himself, flinging muddy water from his tangled locks.
“Sorry,” laughed Nezu. He lifted his hands and made a sweeping motion toward the lake. There was a sizzling sound, and the water he’d pulled from Usagi and the others flew out of the clearing like a cloud of steam, leaving the hermit and the ground dry once more.
“That’s better,” Yunja grunted, and resumed eating.
“How old were you when you first knew you had a gift with water?” Usagi asked Nezu, replaiting her braids.
He stroked his upper lip, thinking. “I was about three when I came down with a bad fever. My mother had to stay up all night to tend to me, feeding me sweetened ginger water from a cup. At one point she fell asleep. I was so thirsty, I made the water rise out of the cup and come to me.” Nezu reached out an arm and crooked a finger to demonstrate. “But I was so surprised at what I’d done that I dumped it all over me. I didn’t get to drink any of it, and my crying woke my poor mother. She had to clean up the mess I’d made and calm me down.” He shook his head.
“Our poor mothers indeed,” Saru said with a wistful smile. “My mother found me high up in an old cypress tree when I’d just turned two. She said an enormous wild boar was scratching itself against the trunk, shaking the tree while I screamed from the branches. But it wasn’t until a few years later that I began climbing up high whenever I could—on the roof, trees, anything I could get my hands on.”
Inu scoffed. “At least your mother didn’t threaten to cane you if you didn’t stop sharing everything with the family dog. She put up with me eating from the same bowl as the dog for a while, but she put her foot down when I started peeing on the trees around our house.”
As they all laughed, Usagi thought of her own mother and how her wide brown eyes, so like Uma’s, had lit up when Usagi first complained that frogs in the forest had kept her up all night with their croaking. “Your talent is showing itself,” her mother had said, beaming. Usagi swallowed a sudden lump in her throat, and saw that the others were lost in thought as well.
The hermit broke the spell. “Oi, if you’re going to tell stories all night,” Yunja hollered, “d’ya mind if I eat the rest?”
They helped themselves to sticks of roasted duck and figs, which had turned out beautifully. The figs were cooked into a jammy sweetness that oozed out with each bite, and the duck skin was crackling crisp. It was the first fresh meat they’d had in a while, and they ate until not a single morsel was left.
Nezu gave a groaning sigh and began combing and replaiting his rat-tail braid. Inu gnawed on the sticks for the last bits of meat. Saru leaned back against an old stump and licked drippings of fig juice off her fingers, her pale face pink in the light of the fire. Usagi couldn’t remember the last time she felt this full.
The hermit let out a loud burp and wiped his mouth daintily with the ends of his matted hair. “Gods’ guts, that was delicious. I don’t know if it’s because it was a meal cooked by another . . . or . . .” He stopped and cleared his throat, then started to sniffle. “Or because I didn’t eat it alone.” A strangled sob escaped him and Yunja hunched over, hiding his face in his hands.
One of the wild dogs whined and pushed up against Yunja. “Oh, you know what I mean,” the hermit choked, burying his face in its flank. “With people!”
“You’re certainly welcome to eat with us as long we’re here,” said Saru. Her eyes glistened more brightly than usual.
With vigorous nods, Usagi and the boys voiced their agreement. “Please do,” Usagi urged.
“Can’t let good food go to waste!” Nezu said, his voice cracking.
“You know this place so well, we could use your guidance,” Inu added.
The hermit lifted his head and dragged his face against a ragged sleeve, wiping away the mud. His eyes were still wet. “That’s mighty kind of you younglings. Mighty kind. I must say, since the war, I’ve wondered if I’d ever come in contact with a friendly soul again.”
“Poor Yunja!” Saru reached out and patted his back. “Of course you would. You’re not alone.” A determined look came into her eyes as she looked around at everyone. “Those of us with zodiac powers must take care of each other.”
That night, after everyone had collapsed into their bedrolls, Usagi waited, wide awake. When Inu began to snore, she tiptoed over and quietly felt around his pack, searching for the Mirror of Elsewhere. After a fruitless hunt, she remembered that he kept it close. Gingerly, she slid a hand beneath Inu’s pillow.
His eyelids popped open. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m sorry,” Usagi whispered. “I can’t stop worrying about my sister. Please, can’t I look in the mirror? I swear I won’t ask again if you let me.”
Inu groaned. He reached inside his tunic for the bronze disk. “Make it quick.”
“Thank you!” Usagi took the mirror over to the dim light of the dying campfire. Peering into the polished surface, she waited till her sister came into view. She caught her breath. Uma was sleeping. Usagi couldn’t make out much more since she appeared to be in a darkened room, but her sister looked peaceful. She stifled a sob.
“Soon.” Usagi touched the image of Uma’s face. “I will come to you soon.”
Chapter 9
Humble Weapons
USAGI WIGGLED HER TOES IN her new slippers, admiring the intricate pattern of the sturdy straps in the late morning light. They were a gift from the hermit Yunja, woven from reeds and grasses he’d gathered, and the soles were remarkably thick and springy. In the few days they’d been at the lake, resting and preparing Usagi for the climb up Mount Jade, he’d become a regular fixture at their camp. The hermit brought fruit he’d picked and game his dogs had brought down, and shared all his meals with them. In the evenings, they swapped stories by the campfire. The Heirs even unpacked their instruments, and together they sang “The Welcome Song” and others in their repertoire, while Yunja’s dogs howled along. He’d brought over the slippers last night, and smiled a delighted gap-toothed smile when Usagi pronounced them a perfect fit.
In these shoes, she might just manage to make it to the shrine. Provided she didn’t get crushed by boulders, fall off a cliff, get eaten by a wild animal, or worse. Checking on her sister in the Mirror of Elsewhere had been a relief. Even if she didn’t know exactly what was happening with Uma, she’d appeared to be in good health, and that had eased the knot of worry that sat in Usagi’s chest. But the Heirs’ warnings
about the Running of the Mount made the knot tighten up again.
“Everyone who ascends for the first time is tested by Mount Jade in different ways. The mountain will bring out your strengths, but also your weaknesses.”
“Make sure you practice your leap—you’re going to need it. Pity you haven’t trained in swordplay or archery.”
“You’ll be forced to use every talent at your disposal, and your wits as well. People have been known to lose their minds on the climb.”
Talk like that made Usagi quail. Maybe attempting to go with the Heirs up Mount Jade was a bad idea. But what else could she do? Stay here with old Yunja and his dogs? Return to Goldentusk? Go to the capital on her own—straight into the Strikers’ cages?
No. If she made it to the shrine, the last Warrior of the Twelve would teach her to master her talents. She’d have a better chance. Usagi had to try.
She glanced over at the Heirs’ walking sticks, which they’d left behind while they were off hunting. With cautious fingers, Usagi examined one. She could see the line where the two parts of the stick joined. She tugged it open to reveal a few inches of sharp blade. Nezu’s sword. It’d be handy to have such a blade inside her bamboo pole. Or maybe Nezu would let her borrow his. But with her luck she’d probably trip and slice her own leg off. And if she leaped with it and wound up in one of her clumsy landings . . . Usagi shuddered. She put Nezu’s stick back and picked up her own.
Her ears pricked at the sound of panting and rustling through the cloud forest’s undergrowth. Yunja’s dogs were coming. A rusty voice hummed tunelessly over the chirp of frogs and chatter of monkeys. Before long, Yunja’s mossy frame shambled into the clearing, swinging his club.
“Hullo there, Rabbit Girl,” said the hermit. “Where’d your friends go?”
“Hunting,” she replied. The dogs gathered around and licked her hands.
Yunja showed her several fish as long as his arm, with fat silver bellies. “Look at these monsters,” he said proudly. “Won’t they make good eating? I thought we could eat some fresh and smoke the rest for you younglings to take on your journey.”