Rabbit
Chapter Four

Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Henrik finds yet another piece to Rabbit’s puzzle, but what does it mean?
Notes:

Days slowly turned to weeks, and finally months. Rabbit healed as the long summer dragged on, much longer than its earthly counterpart. The grass became dry and volatile, the animals moved on, and the temperatures climbed. Rabbit spent most of his time in the bottom of the river bed, lying in the mud left by a listless trickle of water. At night he prowled back into the arboretum to sleep in safety on the pallet he had made beneath some of the trees growing there.

He had begin to excavate a hole of sorts, pawing away large piles of earth and busily forming what appeared to be a den. He was making an absolute disaster of the place, but Nikki was thrilled to be able to watch him engage in what was likely common daily behaviour. He dug a round pit about three feet deep and at least fifteen feet across, then lined it with enormous armloads of long dried grass. Once the floor was done he would vanish for days at a time, returning with branches and fragrant leaves from trees that the explorers knew grew over two hundred miles away. As Rabbit worked on his little house one sunny afternoon, Henrik and Nikki watched.

“What he is doing is not possible,” said Henrik.

“It’s just a little house, said Nikki.

“No I mean the distance. Do the math. Those trees grow two hundred and fifteen miles away. He’s getting there and back in less than six days. That means he’s travelling roughly seventy-two miles a day, both ways. Marathon runners don’t cover that much ground.”

“No but he’s a lot taller and leggier than a human,” said Nikki. “I mean look at him. He’s an apex predator. He’s built for speed, distance, and endurance. If you had a set of lungs and a pair of legs like his chances are you could cover some serious ground too. Of course there is another explanation. Maybe there is a group of those trees a lot closer that we just haven’t seen yet.”

“Yeah well the next time he tears off for more branches I’m going to follow him in the ultralight.”

“Bring a camera. Because if he really is covering seventy miles a day, I would love to see it.”

Rabbit pawed at something in the dirt floor of his new house, then lowered his head. There was a shattering sound, and pieces of the metal sprinkler system set up for the plants flew out, landing near Henrik’s feet.

“Looks like we’re watering by hand, now,” said Nikki, as Rabbit began industriously chewing on a huge cable.

“What has he got?” asked Henrik.

“I have no idea,” said Nikki. “Rabbit stop that! Bad alien! Dammit I’ve had puppies that did less damage.”

There was a loud comical noise as the cable broke. Nothing immediately fell apart, and Rabbit continued to use his formidable jaws to rip the thing out of the ground. Satisfied at last, he suddenly dug furiously into the earth, then pounced on something. He came up with what looked like a gigantic beetle larva. Nikki and Henrik watched in horror as he tossed the nine inch insect back with glee.

“I am so gonna hurl,” said Nikki.

“I’m going go find out what he ripped out of the ground,” said Henrik. “I don’t think it’s anything vital but we need to know.”

“Oh sure, leave me here to watch him… what is he doing?” she asked as Rabbit began snorting and rolling in something.

“Isn’t interpreting alien behaviour your job?”

“How the hell would you interpret rolling in a nest of gigantic bug larvae and then eating them?”

“Easy. He has to tenderize his dinner somehow, and he hasn’t invented the hammer yet.”

Rabbit rolled and snorted with obvious glee, then began munching down the quasi-mashed bugs.

“I don’t wanna interpret aliens anymore,” said Nikki.

“Maybe if you’re nice he’ll share.”

“Don’t you have a flag to salute or something?”

Henrik left Nikki to figure out why Rabbit was rolling in his snack and checked the schematics of the arboretum to see what Rabbit had chewed through.

“Crap,” he whispered. “Crap crap crap…”

He walked over to the ship’s intercom and paged Geoff. “We have a slight problem.”

“And what would that be?” asked Geoff.

“Rabbit the Wonder-Alien has bitten through that emergency cable we sank in case the generators ever died and we had to run on the ship’s battery for a while.”

“Okay, that’s a pain in the ass, but hardly life-threatening. We’ve got more cable, we’ll just disconnect that one and lay a new one. It will take a couple days.”

“He’s also bitten through the arboretum sprinkler system.”

“Then he’ll get a hell of a surprise when it goes off in forty seconds, won’t he?”

Curious, Henrik walked into the arboretum, and watched as Rabbit sat in his now-unusable pit, delightedly biting at the sprays of water that shot up from the middle of his floor, and occasionally rolling in the muddy water. Once he was suitably soaked and filthy, he left his house-turned-swimming-pool and began industriously tearing up a new hole in the floor.

“Isn’t it time we let him loose to run free with his own kind?” said Henrik.

“I’m starting to think his own kind don’t want him around,” said Nikki. “Not if he does to their huts what he’s doing to our arboretum.”

A wave of dirt struck them both.

“I’m going out to chart some more buried village,” said Nikki. She then paused, and looked to Henrik. “That reminds me – I wanted to know how much trouble it would be to set up the DSP.”

“Well it’s a pretty complicated piece of machinery, it would take weeks,” said Henrik. “Why do you want it?”

“Well we brought it to scan for things in the ground if this place turned out to be a rock, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well we found an entire village right outside our front door. With the Deep Soil Pulse we can see everything without disturbing it. We can see the houses, the goods, if there are people buried here… everything! We can do in a couple of months what would take a lifetime with conventional archaeology. The machine will tell us what’s wood, bone, metal, what kinds of wood bone and metal…”

Henrik held up a hand to stop her. “You talked me into it. I’ll start setting it up first thing in the morning.”

Nikki pounced on Henrik and hugged him. “Thank you!”

“No problem. It will give me something to do besides pretend I’m patrolling the area for dangerous monsters for you to observe.”

Nikki turned her head to look at Rabbit. He was once more in the pit he had dug for his house, wallowing in the water and searching for things in the mud.

“Yes, well, the trouble is I have no idea if I am observing normal behaviour.”

“Well… he’s playing, isn’t he? Isn’t play normal behaviour for intelligent creatures?”

“Play is very normal; all higher life forms play,” said Nikki. “But we don’t know if this is play or if it’s play-like. Animals in small enclosures in zoos will exhibit repetitive behaviour that to the untrained eye can look like the creature is playing, but it could in fact be stress, frustration, psychological breakdown… any number of things. We don’t know how long he has been alone. Rabbit could be deeply disturbed and we would have no idea because we have no others like him to base conclusions on.”

Henrik watched Rabbit dig in the mud and snap at the spraying water, munching down the broken bodies of the larva as they floated to the surface.

“So this could be like… highly abnormal.”

“It could be anything,” said Nikki. “He might not even like us, but we’re close enough to his own kind that he puts up with us. Bad company is better than no company.”

“Well that’s comforting, I always wanted to live with a mentally unbalanced killing machine.”

“I think if he was going to hurt us he would have by now,” said Nikki. “He’s had ample opportunity. I think he’s just… strange.”

Rabbit shoved his head under water and remained there for quite some time, eventually coming up with another larva.

“I’m gonna go start setting up the DSP. Why wait until morning?” Henrik was about to leave the room, when Nikki grabbed his arm. “What is it?” he asked.

“Go warm up the ultralight, he’s getting ready to head out. I know his routine by now.”

“Okay. Get me one of the cameras and if he does anything interesting I’ll record it for you.”

By the time Rabbit was ready to move out, Henrik was as well. The little ultralight had been designed with the idea of not disturbing the local wild life, assuming there was any wild life. It was solar-powered and silent, and most creatures paid little attention to it. He got into it and started it up, and was rising into the air as Rabbit broke and ran.

“Okay big guy, let’s see where you are going…”

Henrik followed, glancing at his compass, frowning in thought. They were bearing north-west. What the hell was north-west? He picked up the radio and contacted Geoff.

“Hey Geoff, what’s north?”

“Santa Claus?”

“North by north-west of our location, dip-wad.”

“Small lake with a huge pile of rocks dead in the middle of it, and a grove of those little trees that smell like camphor. We haven’t really explored that area. But he can’t be heading there.”

“Why not?”

“That lake is two hundred and fifteen miles away!”

Henrik glanced down at the figure on the ground, pace measured and determined.

“There’s nothing closer?” asked Henrik.

“Just grass between here and there.”

“Then that’s where he’s heading. I’ll keep you notified.”

Henrik followed, watching as Rabbit made a determined beeline for the lake, and its scented trees, and strange formation of stone in the center, loping along at a steady pace.

“You can’t possibly be heading for the lake,” he whispered. “Not just for sticks.”

By the time Rabbit finally slowed, then stopped, the day was coming to an end, and they had cleared fifty-three miles. Although, to be fair, they had got off to a late start. Henrik set down the ultralight, and walked over to the lean form lying in the grass, panting.

“Tired big guy? Yeah I bet you are.”

Rabbit huffed. Henrik got his bedroll out of the ultralight and spread it on the ground, and was about to dig into his MRE, when Rabbit stood up. Henrik groaned.

“Aw come on, I thought we were d…”

Rabbit let out a loud long mournful call, rising up to end in a questioning note, then listened. Henrik made no sound as Rabbit called into the darkness, his cry echoing over the plain, and finally falling silent. At last Rabbit huffed, as if telling himself it didn’t matter, and lay back down on the grass. Henrik just watched him.

“Where are all your buddies?” he whispered to the enormous creature. Like Henrik, Rabbit did not seem to know.

***---***

Henrik slept in his sleeping bag. Rabbit slept close beside him, using him as a heat source throughout the cold prairie night. When morning came Rabbit got up, and, leaving Henrik to struggle his way through pre-packaged food, went off to catch himself something in the grass. Henrik watched as Rabbit pounced on a snake and downed it, then engaged in some inexplicable rolling, shoving himself along the way dogs do when they are drying off before getting up and shaking.

“You are a really weird guy,” said Henrik. “Seriously. You are. You get up, eat a snake, roll around in the grass and you think this is just all perfectly… now you’re gonna eat my food. Well that’s just special.”

Henrik watched as Rabbit helped himself to an MRE and began eating it in a speculative manner, in some cases wrapper included, eventually leaving only a gnawed plastic spoon and the flameless ration heater. He had almost tossed it back along with the napkins and toilet paper, but some sense seemed to tell him that might be a bad idea. Instead he spat it at Henrik before gleefully chowing down on a package of cocoa.

With breakfast consumed, Rabbit set off once more, and Henrik followed, feeling his amazement grow as the miles were left behind. Rabbit just loped on, seeming at times to almost go into a trance, leaving his body to function like some sort of machine. By the time he began looking for a place to sleep, they had a total of covered ninety-eight miles from the time they had left base. Not too much for the ultralight, but astounding for a bipedal creature on foot. They would be at the lake sometime early tomorrow evening.

They spent the night on the silent prairie beneath an endless sky of indigo, illuminated by one main moon and two tiny satellite moons, each travelling in their own halo of light through a glittering pattern of constellations, and the only sound was the gentle song of small insects. The slow night passed, and when morning came they once more resumed travelling. Their destination was close.

The lake appeared in the evening like some strange shrine that was left by a forgotten civilization. The lake was a massive basin scraped into the stone bones of this land by glaciers millennia ago, into which the run-off from ground water would collect, creating a small, beautiful mirror of water. What made it so unusual was the huge pile of stones in the center of it, as if some bored god had idly heaped boulders into the water to create a shrine to itself and then forgotten about it. There was simply no reason for the stones to be there, and they were of truly monstrous proportions.

Henrik landed the ultralight, shutting off the engine before getting out of the small craft. He walked slowly down to the lake, staring at the massive pile of enormous stones, many of them fifty feet high or larger. They were positively gigantic, but where the hell had they come from?

Rabbit walked into the water. It was shallow, and the summer sun made it warm. Henrik watched him play in the clear shallow water, a mere twenty feet at its deepest point. After a few moments, he decided to join him, stripping down to his shorts and undershirt and wading into the warm, clear water. He laughed as he saw a sudden rush of sleek, silvery bodies.

“Hey there are fish in here!”

Rabbit had noticed that as well, and dove in after them. He didn’t catch anything, or at least he did not seem to at first, but Henrik noticed a lot of silt being churned up from the bottom. Moments later Rabbit prowled out of the water, carrying in his mouth what had to be the single largest, and for that matter the angriest, lobster he had ever seen.

Suddenly mindful of his toes, Henrik dove beneath the surface and began searching for his own lunch. MREs were all well and good, but not when he could have a lobster…

The beast lunged up from behind a rock, claws brandished, feelers waving menacingly. The creature had to be over three feet long from tail to claw, and highly disgruntled. Henrik distracted the monster with one hand, then managed to grab hold of its back. Clutching his pissed-off prize, he surfaced and waved it.

“Hey Rabbit! Mine’s bigger than yours! Nyah!”

Rabbit failed to be impressed. Grinning, Henrik sloshed out of the lake, then realized he had a problem. He had no way to cook the thing. A three foot lobster required a little more preparation than an MRE, and if he put it down it would run away back into the water. He paused for a moment to watch Rabbit eat his own.

“Yeah, see that’s the problem, I don’t have great big rib-cutting shears in my mouth. Hmmm… what can we do…? Ah!”

Henrik put the angry crustacean on his jacket and tied it up in the heavy fabric. Satisfied his prisoner was detained, he jogged back to the ultralight to get his bowie knife and lighter….

Yeah and what was he gonna cook the thing in? There were no pots in the ultralight. He had wood for a fire from the small fragrant trees, but he didn’t know if risking even a little campfire in the middle of a sun-dried grass field was such a wise idea. The smallest spark would send flames blazing across the landscape in moments.

“Dammit… gonna have to eat it raw. Well if Rabbit can then I can.”

He ran back to the lake shore to find his supper slowly cutting its way out of the jacket. Henrik raised the knife and was about to stab the beast… and suddenly Rabbit snatched it away. Surprised, Henrik blinked at him.

“Why did you do that?”

Rabbit gave him the sort of look one might give a child who was about to do something foolish when they should know better. He then bit the lobster in half before giving the pieces to Henrik. Puzzled, Henrik accepted it, then sat down to eat, gazing speculatively at Rabbit.

“Why did you kill the lobster for me?” he asked.

Rabbit ignored him, prowling back to the water to dig in the silt for things of interest. Henrik watched him for a while, then resumed eating his lobster. Even raw, the meat was sweet and succulent and firm. Cooked, with butter and lemon, and it would be positively orgasmic. Henrik made up his mind to bring a few back to the base.

He glanced over at Rabbit, who had his head underwater and appeared to be trying to bite something in the mud. He was so very odd – cold, insular, and unsmiling, even during play; just living his life in a manner that had nothing to do with the people around him, alone on the planet figuratively as well as literally.

“You’re not human at all, are you?” said Henrik softly. “We keep expecting you to behave as we do, but you’re not human, you’re a wild animal dressed up in a people-suit.”

Rabbit continued to pay no heed to Henrik. He had things to dig out of the mud. Leaving him to his digging, Henrik continued to eat, looking out over the lake at the enormous pile of gigantic stones piled there, like…

Like a spilled-over tower of Lego bricks.

Henrik slowly moved his head to the side, studying the stones, and suddenly the entire picture seemed to wink into view. It was a gigantic tower; or rather it had been once upon a time. But something had knocked it over like a child’s toy make of blocks, and spilled it into the lake.

“What... the… fuck?” he whispered, slowly standing up.

He stared at the tower for a long moment in the failing sunlight, then, after hastily wrapping up what was left of his lobster, he waded into the shallow water, walking until it became too deep then began swimming. He made his way over to the stones, and pulled himself out of the water, climbing onto a block whose surface was only a few inches beneath the water. He stood up on it, and looked over the stones, trying to determine how dangerous the heap of stones may be. Deciding the blocks, which had to weigh thousands of pounds apiece, were unlikely to tip over too easily, he began to carefully climb on them.

There were traces of mortar on the blocks, as well as what may have been bits of pigment. He felt a rush of excitement as he found decorative carvings – damaged and dirty to be sure but there nonetheless.

“Simon’s gonna flip,” he said softly.

He scrambled off the tower, diving into the lake and swimming to shore, and jogging over to the ultralight. Snatching up the radio, he contacted the base.

“Henrik to Geoff.”

“Geoff here.”

“You will not believe what I found. You know that pile of rocks in the lake? It’s not a pile of rocks. It’s a collapsed tower. It’s man-made.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not. Someone built a tower in the middle of that little lake and over the course of the centuries it fell over or was destroyed. I found mortar between the blocks, I found traces of pigment, I even found decorative carvings. So now we have evidence of two civilizations, Rabbit’s people and whoever built this tower.”

“Well how do you know Rabbit’s people didn’t build the tower?”

Henrik looked over at the massive form bounding through the water, churning up the mud and pouncing on fish.

“I dunno, Rabbit just doesn’t strike me as a build-a-giant-tower-for-the-glory-of-our-people kinda guy. Anyway let Nikki and Simon know, and if you’re good and eat all your vegetables I’ll bring you a present.”

“Is it another black man? Because I’m getting tired of having to pull out a mirror every time I want to have an intelligent conversation around here.”

“Sorry, no, haven’t seen any black people, just big-ass lobsters.”

“That’s a really poor substitute but I’ll take it.”

Henrik laughed. “See you in a couple days, Geoff, take care.”

“You too. Especially you. You’re pretty far away and there is a lot of wildlife out there we know nothing about. Don’t get bitten or eaten or stung.”

“Will do. Later Geoff.”

“Later.”

Geoff signed off, then looked over to Rabbit. He was out of the water now, and sizing up the saplings. He left the smaller trees, as well as the adult ones, finding the trees that were the most flexible. Then he simply pulled the ones he wanted out by their roots and laid them together in a bundle on the ground, getting them ready to transport back to the base before finding a place to sleep for the night.

Henrik let his gaze wander back to the tower, an eerie monument to a past civilization. Who had put it there? Where did they go? Had they been wiped out in some act or war, died from plague, or simply moved on? Did Rabbit’s people leave with them?

Had Rabbit’s people built the tower after all?

Henrik looked over at Rabbit, who was curled up on the warm grass in the evening light, sleeping. If he really was as old as the ink in his tattoos suggested, then he probably knew who had built that tower and what had become of them. For that matter he had probably seen it built.

“You’re a living piece of history. If only there was a way to unlock you. What do you know, Rabbit?” Henrik whispered. “What have you seen, and lost?”

The wind blew softly, ruffling Rabbit’s long hair as he slept. Henrik sighed and went to the ultralight to get his bedroll.

***---***

“Sniffing here, sniffing there, sniffing everywhere,” chanted Smudge softly to himself. “Sniffing this, sniffing that, sniffing the other. Sniffing… OOH! ECH! What’s that?”

Seven young Plains Elves paused, raised their heads, and sniffed, completely unaware of their current resemblance to a family of meerkats.

“That’s the dead pig down by the rocks,” said Streak, who was Smudge’s sibling. They were twins, both ice-white, and both with matching streaks of black on their faces, as if they had been caressed by someone with inky hands.

“Does the pig count?” asked Smudge.

“No,” said Hawk. “Sun Raven sniffed that yesterday.”

Following the youngsters was an extremely large, and extremely old, Plains Elf. He was scarred and tattooed, and seemed out of place among the youngsters, but he was keeping an eye on his young betrothed. Ta’Na Yar’s Sia Snow Fire was adamant that his child would not bind one hour before his one hundredth birthday. That was six years off, but Wolf Hunter did not mind. He was quite enjoying his time getting to know his young lover and the ways of his new clan. His age and status meant he could choose any position in the band he liked, and he had taken over as Guardian, wearing the pearl and abalone armband that marked him as such. It was now his job to keep an eye on the almost-grown youngsters, helping them to learn the skills they would need to be productive members of their community, and running off any outcasts who may be lurking around, hoping to lure one of the youngsters away for a few hours with false promises of love.

He was also learning the rules to his beloved’s current favourite game; sniffing.

“So what is the point to all of this?” Wolf asked.

“You have to find the worst smell you can,” said Ta’Na Yar. “But it can’t be a stink someone has already smelled.”

“Like the dead pig?”

“Or the rotting auroch excrement in the old swamp,” said Smudge. “We already found that one.”

“And smells you make yourself don’t count,” said Weasel.

Wolf chuckled. “Delightful.”

Yar smiled at his massive lover, looking slightly ashamed of himself to be engaged in such nonsense. “Well, it passes the time,” he said.

“Oh no need to apologize, my little raven. I’ve played similar games in my life, and some of them frightfully recently.” Wolf raised his head and searched the night air. “Well there’s a fascinating reek coming from that hill over there.”

“Skunk!” said Smudge. “Skunks count!”

“One point for Wolf,” said Weasel.

They prowled on in quest of new stenches, their journey taking them past the enormous yurt where Wolf Hunter was staying with his two oldest and closest friends; both of whom were so ancient as to have worn out several names. In Plains Elf society, once one passed a certain number of, not centuries, but millennia, one acquired a name related to the movements of the planets and stars above. Their current names were Eternity’s Guide and Star Weaver. They lounged upon their rugs and watched their friend slowly prowl around their campsite, apparently searching for something.

“What are you doing?” Guide finally asked.

Wolf cast him an aloof look. “I, sir, am sniffing.”

Guide and Star glanced at each other. “Sniffing what?” Star finally asked.

“If you must know, I am playing a game. First person to find the worst smell wins.”

“Then I win,” said Star, casting a glance at his friend.

Guide looked affronted. “I told you that was not me, it was a passing badger.”

“An invisible badger, who had clearly been eating the red beans off that vine.”

“Very nasty creatures, invisible badgers.”

“Yes, well, if you plan on binding with me during my next cycle then you had best be rid of them, or at least take them someplace out of sniffing range.”

Wolf paused and looked at the two. “Binding?” He looked from one to the other. His friends were both of truly gigantic proportions, one as massive as the other. “And… you expect Guide to be able to pick you up to complete the dance… how, exactly?”

“We are still contemplating the logistics of the coupling,” said Guide.

Wolf looked from one to the other again, then said; “I recommend you go to the meat smoker’s hut and borrow his winch.”

Star clicked his blades at his friend. “And while he is winching me up, you can go teach your current love how to count on his fingers and toes.”

“I already have. He can count all the way to twenty-one.”

“Begone, flea,” said Star, while Guide laughed. “Go smell something.”

Wolf laughed and moved away from the yurt, finding his young lover with his friends. Yar was not amused at the conversation.

“I realize I am young, but I am not a child,” he groused.

“Oh pay no heed to them,” said Wolf.

Wolf nuzzled Yar, nudging him. He wrapped his jaws around the back of Yar’s skull, loving the way he instinctively froze, wanting to be taken. For their people, binding was not about acts or rituals, it was an emotional response, instinct and hormones acting in harmony with the heart. They had no need of public formality; their union was already sealed in their hearts. Yar grinned, letting his head fall back as his lover began nibbling his shoulders.

“If you get me pregnant, my Sia will have a fit.”

Wolf laughed quietly, but had a feeling the first one to get pregnant in this pairing would not be Yar. Wolf’s body was already making preparations for him to have his first cycle in centuries; further proof that they were already bound. And Yar was not unaware of his beloved’s changing condition. They began slowly circling each other, then, reluctantly broke off.

“I am not going to be able to wait another sixty years,” said Yar.

“I’m not certain I can, either,” said Wolf.

“You’d better,” said Smudge. “I would not want to be the one who brought Snow Fire the news. He’s small but he’s fast, and he is a most formidable protector of his children!”
Yar ignored Smudge and drew close to Wolf, breathing in his scent, nipping his throat, then kissing him. He growled in frustration as Wolf gently pushed him back. Reluctantly the pair resumed their game, though Yar could think of something he would rather sniff than bad smells. He wanted to sniff Wolf, wanted to chase him all over the land, to finally catch him, and…

And a traditional binding dance was out of the question because there was no way he was going to be able to lift Wolf. Well, he was certain he could work out something. He was a clever elf. Yar glanced over his shoulder as Guide walked up, followed by Star. Both had a look of distaste on their faces.

“What in the name of Titalinia is that stench?” asked Guide.

The Plains Elves, young and old, raised their heads and sniffed, once more resembling a colony of meerkats.

“Eyew,” said Freebird. “Oh… EYEEEWW! Oh that is NASTY! What is it? Smells like… burned urine.”

“And vomit!” said Grey.

“And… and… oh what is that stink?” Yar sniffed, casting his head back and forth. “Whew! Oh that is truly awful! I have never smelled anything like it!”

“Nor I!” said Sun Raven. “Ooooooooooo…. horrid!”

The seven youngsters and three seasoned veterans snorted and sniffed and snuffled, but could not name the truly dreadful aroma.

“Well,” said Wolf, “only one thing to do. We must go see what stinks.”

The pack of Plains Elves began loping in the direction of the horrid stench, moving with the eerie silence of their kind. Then as they drew close to the cause of the reek, they slowed and fanned out like a pack of wolves, approaching cautiously, uncertain if the stink was dangerous or not. They came through the grass to crouch in the darkness, and stared forth at the long row of carts, hauled by great aurochs being led by beings Yar had never seen before. The beings were short and squat, but obviously of great power, and had faces not unlike a frog’s. Their eyes were huge, baleful and yellow, and their downward turned mouths suggested there was no joy in life, only toil. They led their beasts slowly over the plain, heading for the small shining lake of clear water that the Thrayre-Iyre called Titalinia’s Mirror. Yar looked to Wolf.

“Who are they? Where did they come from? Why do they have those auroch bound to the carts?”

“Why do some have great lumps on their chests?” asked Smudge. “Why do they not smell like us?”

Wolf shook his head. “I do not know. I have not seen their like before. Certainly I have never smelled them.”

“Should we greet them?” asked Smudge.

Yar gazed at Wolf as he narrowed his yellow-green eyes, and knew there was something about these people that the ancient elf did not trust.

“Nay little one. If they are travelling at night in silence then they wish for no visitors, and we shall give them none. Come. Let us get home. It is late, and we’ll not find a worse smell for our game no matter how long we look.”

The group slipped away, unnoticed, heading silently back to their camp.

Disclaimer:

All original fiction and the characters, places and situations with them are copyright Alyx Shaw, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

The characters, places and situations described in these stories are fictional unless otherwise stated in the story headings.

(C) 2008-2012 Alyx Shaw