Sudden activity to my left forces me to crouch down, and I try hugging the rock, making myself less visible.
“He says to check out the yards and holler if there’s any trace.” I peer down below and see a somewhat short and thin greble—by greble standards—using a long staff to balance himself as he stands. Next to him is a dirty, gray-haired meeple, who from the looks of it, has seen many a year.
The meeple glances wearily over the scenery. “In my opinion, he
’s losing it. That plan of his scares me to death.” The meeple grunts loudly, and the greble nods his head, assuring the meeple he indeed feels the same. They both turn around, walking back in the direction from which they came. “Damn Devoten. Whatever haunts him must be something nasty, making us walk all the way out here because he ‘feels’ something. Yeah, let him
feel
my foot up his butt!” They both laugh and continue on, not seeing the redhead perched up above them like a cardinal in a tree.
I make a judgment call and decide not to search the area. My lame attempt at soulsearching—even if subconsciously—a failure. I prepare to travel back quickly, but before I leave, I can’t help but notice a figure in the distance—a figure I quickly recognize as a deathman. It stands as still as can be, just staring directly at me. It grins, and I take this as my cue to return from whence I came.
As I travel, it dawns on me that I just did once again what Gunthreon said no one ever does: traveled within Renhala.
Chapter 39
Pitiful
The elephant I suddenly find myself perched upon moves slightly as I appear on its back. Its trunk comes near me, and it sniffs me, tickles my ear, then blows snot at me.
“Gross!” I yell, gripping firmly with both hands. “Why on top of an elephant?”
Its elderly, gray-furred owner laughs as he watches me gripping the elephant for dear life. He’s rattily dressed in dirty old clothes, but his fur is combed back neatly as he lovingly pets his elephant. He laughs merrily to the point of tears. “I’m not gonna ask where you just came from,” he says. “I only want to say, thanks so much for the laugh. Haven’t had one in months.”
“Kailey, get down from there this instant!” Lupa has her hands on her hips, resembling Gunthreon for a brief moment. “You’re going to fall and kill yourself. How did you get up there?”
Conner turns his attention to me and starts laughing when he sees the
goop all over my face. Jenna joins in the laughter.
The elephant owner and Bu help me down. The tissue Lupa hands me barely makes a dent in the sn
ot.
“Glad you
’re back,” Gunthreon states, his face clearly revealing the sarcasm spoke. I cringe. Gunthreon pets the elephant’s trunk. “Kailey, were you searching for your mother?”
“I didn
’t mean—” I say as he puts his hand up.
“You haven
’t seen her in a while. Any luck?” I shake my head. “I’d probably be defying me, too, if I could,” says Gunthreon, “but Kailey, it’s important that you stop. As of right now.” My nod satisfies him. “Let’s keep walking.”
Lupa stops in front of a bunch of mooncats
preparing a substantial amount of brown stew over a large fire. She sniffs the air. “Excuse me,” she says to a rather tiny little thing, something resembling a Siamese cat. “Are you using mountain fern?”
The cat smiles. “You have a discerning nose. Well done. I
’d offer you some, but the rules are no tasting until later.”
“Totally understandable. Thank you for sharing your herbal secret.” Lupa bows to the Siamese. The cat stirs the stew in the kettle, and I gasp when I see a pair of green eyes disappear into the depths of the broth. The eyes had a familiar glare to them.
Lupa turns to us. “Do you have any idea how rare that is? I feel like royalty! I wonder how they came about such a huge quantity of mountain fern.”
“Or how they can eat their own kind.”
Lupa gasps as the words exit my mouth. “Why would you say that?”
I tell her that I saw a pair of eyes that we met the other night. “I
’ll leave it at that,” I state.
“It
’s dark, and your eyes are playing tricks on you,” says Conner. “Mooncats are not known cannibals.”
“Thanks, Mr. Walking Encyclopedia.”
“He’s right,” declares Gunthreon. “They eat flesh, but never their own.”
Conner pulls a “me,” sticking his tongue out in my direction. As I make a stupid face back at him, crossing my eyes and all, I trip over Cheeto, who has been walking as close as possible. My body gains momentum, and I
then trip over a rope holding up one of the tents. My hand lands on a grill covered in roasting rats.
“Ow! Damn! Ladimer!” My hand screams at me, and I can see the blisters forming already. The pain is excruciating.
The realization then sets in as to what I just said.
Fannie is beside me before I even have the chance to be dumbfounde
d. “You better shut up,” she howls, “or else you’re going to get me killed!” She pulls me by my hair as the mooncat manning the grill watches us with squinted eyes. The cat, a cheetah and definitely male, flips his rats methodically, keeping his other hand on a chef’s knife a little longer than I’d like.
“I have some salve for that, if you
’d like,” says the cat, pulling a small metal container out of a bag.
“Yes, th
at would be so kind of you,” replies Fannie. “Your food smells scrumptious!” Fannie holds out my hand as the cat man puts the salve onto the burn. I hope he doesn’t notice that Fannie is squeezing all the blood out of my hand, or that my nail is trying to burrow itself into her finger to get her to let up a bit.
“Just keep this dry, and you shouldn
’t have a scar.” Cheetah man winks at me. He’s kind of cute. I blush.
“Thank you. I
’m Kailey.” I shake his paw with my good hand. He responds a bit awkwardly, but I don’t know the cat equivalent of shaking hands. As long as it doesn’t involve smelling his rear, I can handle it. He then licks my hand and I blush, again, and giggle.
“And I
’m Fannie.” Fannie does not shake the cheetah’s paw.
“Conner.” Conner does a guy-nod.
“I am Leon,” purr
s the cat. “Sorry I couldn’t catch you in time, but you fell so quickly! Your little friend here believes you will keep her safe, eh?” He stares down at Cheeto.
Fannie says, “Stupid animal h
as grown attached to our clumsy... ”
“And flirty,” says Conner.
“... Kailey,” Fannie finishes, ignoring Conner.
Leon checks all of us over, head to toe. “Do not underestimate an animal
’s intuition,
Fannie
. That could prove to be stupid in itself down the road.” He pauses. “You folks enjoy the pre-show and we will see you tonight. I gotta get back to the cooking.”
“Thanks again.” I hold up my blistering hand.
“Any time.” He winks as Conner and Fannie start walking away. I blush again, then run to catch up with them.
Cheeto catches up to me and rubs against my leg, then looks up at me with her big eyes. I lean down, scratch behind her ears, and tell her how cute she is. She smells my hand where I burned it and starts to lick the wound. It hurts, but I let her anyway. I always believed the claim that a dog
’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s, so maybe it’s the same for a wild raccoon with fangs.
When I catch up to my friends, Jenna is jabbering away in Gunthreon
’s ear. It puts me in a brighter mood, because he actually let her talk rather than demean her or talk over her.
“They are always ready for a party,” says Gunthreon, “but I do have to say, this one seems especially extravagant. Imported food, rare animals, handmade silks, and tapestries—it must be costing them a fortune.” As we continue forward, Gunthreon stares at a showcat whose headdress, from the look of it, could very well be made of real emeralds and sapphires.
I turn to what I think is Bu’s direction and soon find that he’s nowhere in sight. “Guys, where’s—”
My words abruptly stop as I stare at a
horrible scene before us. Lupa buries her face in Gunthreon, Conner gasps, and Fannie and Jenna are wordless. Even Cheeto growls and bares her teeth.
I turn away, no longer able to look. Conner puts his arms around me. “
How—how can they do that?” I cry, into his shoulder.
“I don
’t know,” Conner replies, solemnly. As he holds me I sense his emotions—a faint sense of hopelessness mixed with pity, and I don’t like it.
Pity
.
“Shouldn
’t we do something? Shouldn’t
someone
?” I sob, pulling away from him and scanning the huge crowd surrounding the abomination while everyone simply stares, murmuring to each other, and thanking their gods that it’s not them.
“We are a bit outnumbered, and we
’re in their territory, Kailey,” states Gunthreon. “They have their own ways of doing things here. We cannot do a godforsaken thing.”
Lupa sobs loudly, but tries to hold it back for Gunthreon
’s sake. He hugs her and whispers in her ear. She wipes her tears from her face and turns to me.
Memories
instantly flood back.
Defenseless and soon hopeless. It’s what he’s hoping for—I can sense it. My pleas only serve as satisfaction—satisfaction for the fact I broke. I held on for so long, after so much blood shed, but there’s
always
a breaking point. Humiliation can break one just as easily as immeasurable physical pain.
I wonder if
she
broke.
My monk
’s spade burns my back, and I grab a hold of it and take it off, only set on finding the one responsible for her pain. No defensive moves this time, but a willingness to hunt—to track the very soul who took pleasure in the humiliation. I suddenly swell with confidence as I swear to avenge.
As I march forward, I hear Gunthreon calling to me—his persuasion calling, calling me back—but I
’m full of an unstoppable energy, even to him.
Fannie steps in front of me, and says, “Calm down. She
’s simply a mooncat who could have easily turned on you at any moment, Kailey. You hold no allegiance to them, so why defend her? Maybe she deserved—” she stops as she looks into my eyes, now realizing my motivation. Fannie steps aside.
“Wh
o is responsible for this?” I ask, as I scan the crowd, searching for anyone who might reply. No answer. “
Who
?” I grab my spade with both hands and try to control the anger that flows through me and into my weapon. Then, I walk to the beautiful creature that has been dismembered and hung from a tree in a hammock. I cut the hammock down, and Fannie helps me lay her on the ground gently.
“Oh, Nayla,” I whimper
. The loss of beauty makes me cry, and my tears glow as they streak my face. Her body is motionless as I touch the tender area where her legs were once attached, now sloppily sewn up with butcher’s twine.
To make it worse, the legs are on giant skewers, dripping her blood into the fire pit below them. The cuts
are fresh, and I turn to Fannie who has put her hand on Nayla’s brow, and Fannie’s eyes rise slightly. This is my clue there is a chance. Fannie rips a piece of her shirt and uses it as a tourniquet around one of Nayla’s legs where the stitches have ripped open.
“This was done w
hile she was still alive!” I exclaim as I bury my hands in Nayla’s slick fur and feel a slight electric current, and below that, her own energy, barely pulsing. I keep my hands on her and somehow, intuitively know that the current I sense is from her assaulter. I raise myself off the ground and send out my feeler toward the crowd; nothing coming back to me.
Everyone is motionless, and silent, waiting for a response from us. It makes me so angry that I push the feeler out even further, and that
’s when I feel it: a tiny response from an energy distancing itself in a hurry. As I embrace my find, as well as my knowledge of the power inside me, a small tear drips from eye, and I am no longer broken.
I turn to Fannie. “Take care of her.”
“Kailey, I can’t without them knowing. I’m sorry. I can lessen her pain, though.” She looks down at Nayla with compassion.
I inhale and grab Fannie’s chin, gently, turning her head toward me.
“Help her for those you couldn’t save in the past.”
I take off running before Gunthreon or anyone can stop me. I run toward the familiar pulse, responding to my own energy. I never even see the rocks I sprint over or hear the hissing of the cats around me. My mission controls me, and I am bound to find the respondent. The feeling grows stronger, and I sense the presence of the one who owns the energy I seek. I approach a tree with a huge hole in the side—perfect for hiding.
“Come out. I know you’re there,” I spit. My grip on my monk’s spade is as tight as I can make it, and I am prepared to use it. “I will give you a fair fight.” The sudden laughing I hear from the hole in the tree makes me shiver to my bones, but I hold tightly to my anger. “Come out so I can see your yellow belly before I kill you.”
The laughing grows louder. A voice filled with immense power responds. “Who do you think you are? You are nothing but a child with a sharp toy. You do not even know how to use that spade, so why bother? Devoten is foolish for keeping you alive. You should have been the one in that damn cat
’s place.”
I am instantly overwhelmed with the feeling that I indeed do not know how to use my spade and that I am not worthy to hold it. I drop my weapon to the ground, but hold my ground firmly. “No matter who she was, no living creatu
re deserves something like that,” I say, with a bit less confidence.
The meeple steps out of the darkness of the tree
hole and laughs at me. It sits on its haunches, pretending to sharpen its talon against the bark of a tree, breaking off huge chunks as it does so. It is then that I see a quick movement above us.
“Oh, is this just too close to home, Kaile
y?” the meeple teases, smiling. “Are you seeking out revenge for your own misfortune, perhaps?” I swallow as I hold my tears back. I will not allow this miserable creature a chance to humiliate me. It’s clear it knows what happened to me, and I question how, but I’m choosing to fight, and fight with all I’ve got. I see movement once again from high above, and cannot wrap my mind around what I think I saw.